Title   : Retrieval
Author  : YS McCool
Rating  : PG-13
Date    : 28 June 1999
Series  : Upgrade # 28
Warnings: None
Summary : Byron meets his destiny in an unexpected place.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Sentinel characters, nor do I
make a claim on them.  Established characters are the
property of Pet Fly Productions and UPN.  Original
characters are the sole property of the author.


                          Upgrade # 28
                           Retrieval
                          By YS McCool

Daryl helped the elderly couple down the ramp with their
carry-on luggage so they could concentrate on their walking. 
His father, in full battle armor, was waiting for him at the
bottom of the ramp.

~Dad?~ he sent.

~Not now, Son.  We need to be secure,~ his father responded
without his face betraying anything.

"Thank you so much, young man," the apple-cheeked man said
as Daryl placed their luggage in the transport cart.

"It was my pleasure, sir," Daryl responded.  "Welcome to
Cascade."

"Such a handsome child," the older woman remarked as Daryl
walked away.

"You've always had an eye for men," the man responded.

"I know.  That's how I got you," she said saucily.

Daryl smiled but kept walking.  His dad was on alert and
hard to read from casual contact.  "Hi, Dad."

"Welcome back, Son.  Is this all of your luggage?"  Simon
looked at the lone backpack.

"Yeah, Jim re-packed for me," Daryl explained.  "By the time
he was finished winnowing it all down, I could have stuffed
the rest in my pockets."

His father chuckled.  "But I bet he was right."

Daryl nodded.  "He was.  The first thing they did was make
us lift our bags fifty times."

Simon laughed.  "Another reason I was never in the
military."  The captain led the way to his assault vehicle.

Once they were in flight, Daryl decided to get into whatever
had his father so tense.  "It's not the twins, is it?"

"Oh, no.  The girls came home this morning and are doing
just fine," Simon reported.  "Cute as they can be.  They
look so much alike, but Jordan is almost an inch longer than
Barbara."

Daryl let out a sigh of relief.  It was stupid to think that
just because he hadn't been there something would happen to
his new nieces.  But he still worried.

"Then what is it?"  Simon took a deep breath, let it out,
and took another.  "You're killing me here, Dad," Daryl
complained.

"Okay, here goes.  Right after announcing the arrival of the
twins, Blair was called away to attend a young sentinel they
had brought in from the Haskell Rings Station," Simon began.

"Okay," Daryl said slowly.  "So far, so good."

"The young man had escaped from a military post on Camelot,
and the ship he was on crashed.  The kid was alone for about
six months."

Daryl whistled.  "Poor guy."

"It gets worse."  Simon slowly banked the car as they headed
toward their neighborhood.  "He was overloaded at the
station because he had been in solitude so long."

Daryl nodded.  "That's understandable.  So what are you not
telling me?  Why would he have to *escape* from a military
post?"

"He's not supposed to exist," Simon reported.  His voice
dropped.  "He's Jim's clone." 

"$#%##$!!!"  Daryl released an explicative that would have
had his Great-Aunt Esther washing his mouth out with harsh
soap.  "Jim must have flipped."

"Daryl, don't ever use that phrase again," Simon warned. 
The captain took another deep breath.   "Yeah, Jim was
upset, but mostly he's angry.  He's had a kid all this time
and never knew it.  Now Byron's nineteen-years-old, and
there's no way to get those years back."

Daryl gently brushed his father's mind with affection.  He
could have wasted his time trying to touch him in all that
armor, but why?

"Byron?  Hmmm.  I can't wait to meet him," Daryl stated.

"We're rallying close on this one.  The generals Ellison are
due tomorrow.  Steve and Brandy came in last night.  Mario
and Tanya are due this afternoon," Simon ticked off.

"What do you think the military will try to do?" Daryl asked
in a worried tone.

"Skirt blame, then do whatever it takes to cover it up,"
Simon responded bitterly.  "Most of all, we're worried that
they'll try to get Byron back."

"Not from our family," Daryl said with assurance.

"That's the spirit, Son," Simon said proudly.  "We all need
to be there for Byron and Jim."

Daryl nodded.  Poor Jim.  What must Jim be feeling right
now?

###########

Blair was ready to pull his luxuriant hair out by the roots
and howl in frustration.  He had thought he had years to get
guides ready for Jim's offspring.  Now he had a 19-year-old
full-fledged sentinel with no guide.

Every candidate was either too old or too young.  The ones
who fell in the middle didn't have any common ground with
Byron.  The young man would need special handling and a lot
of love.

For the right candidate, Blair was willing to relocate an
entire family.  Money was not his concern, Byron was worth
Sandburg's last dime.  What he needed was someone with the
skills and patience necessary to help this wonderful young
man.

Just thinking about him made Blair want to wrap Byron in his
arms and never let go.  Sandburg shook himself.  "Jim is
your sentinel, Blair Sandburg, not his son."

Blair turned back to his lists and psychological profiles. 
He couldn't let down the young man who had been let down all
of his life.

Jet slipped into Blair's study armed with a steaming mug of
tea.  "Hello, love," she whispered before kissing her
husband's lips.

"Bless you, sweetness," Blair purred before taking a sip. 
"How was your day?"

"Six retrievals and a marriage proposal," Jet reported.

Sandburg put down his mug.  "Who is this soon-to-be-dead
man?"

"Relax, pet," Jet said as she rubbed the tension out of
Blair's neck.  "My would-be paramour is all of five-years-
old."

Blair snorted.  "I remember what a holy terror I was at that
age.  I'm not turning my back on this kid."

Jet laughed and kissed the top of Blair's head.  "Back to
*real* concerns, love.  How is your search going?"

"It's not," Blair reported.  "I can't find anyone compatible
with Byron."

Jet settled herself in Blair's lap.  "Some people, not
anyone who really knows you, think that you and Jim are
incompatible on paper, but look how well you work together."

Blair was stunned.  On the surface, he and Jim had little in
common.  But that was only the surface.  Underneath, they
both had an urge to help and protect people.  They had a lot
of the same personal goals.  

They had seemed on the opposite sides of a deep chasm when
they met, but they had found common ground and flourished on
it.  Jim was his Shield, for heaven's sake.  That was not a
title you purchased in a catalogue.

Blair looked back down at the lists and tried to see with a
less clinical eye who he had to work with.  What could these
tests do to quantify the bond that formed between guide and
sentinel?

"Thanks, Jet, for putting it into perspective for me."  He
nuzzled his wife's soft neck.

"That's what wives do, love," Jet whispered before sharing a
long kiss.

"You know, I only married you for your mind."  Blair gently
stroked his bride's back.

"I hope you remember that when my figure's a thing of the
past."

Blair sat back and looked deeply into his wife's eyes. 
"Jet, you will always look like this to me."  He kissed her
nose.

Jet smiled.  "I love you, Blair Sandburg."

###########

Daryl rang the doorbell and waited while Hawthorne threaded
his way through the knot of Guardian pups who favored the
cool marble floor of the foyer.  The man was broadcasting
his every move and thought to Daryl.  It was totally
unintentional, which meant Daryl could not mention what he'd
heard.

"Welcome back, young mister Banks.  I trust all went well in
Liverpool," Cecil greeted warmly.

"Very well, Hawthorne.  You're looking at an official
civilian cadet of the Space Corps, Far Space division,"
Daryl responded as he clapped the older man on the back.

"Congratulations, sir."  He held the door wide so Daryl
could step over the pups.

"Is Byron here?" Daryl inquired.  "I wanted to meet him."

"I'm afraid not, sir.  He left with his uncle Steve and his
future aunt Brandy to do some shopping."  The older man led
the way to the family room, which was currently Guardian-
free.

Daryl was surprised.  Steve and Brandy were still planning
their elaborate wedding and honeymoon.  Banks expected them
to remain locked up in their home and have their meals
delivered at least for the next two months.

"That was nice of them," he said as he flopped down on the
couch.

"I expect them back at any moment," Hawthorne reported. 
"Would you care to stay for lunch?"

Daryl could have made himself lunch, he wasn't helpless, but
only an idiot passed up one of Hawthorne's meals.  "Sounds
like a winner."

Hawthorne smiled.  "I'll be serving as soon as they return
with Byron."

Daryl knew he wouldn't just be left to relax on the couch. 
As soon as he was spotted by a couple of the juveniles, the
books and the audience arrived in force.  How could he
resist reading to the little guys?  They loved it.  Besides,
he could send mental pictures to illustrate the stories. 
However, Banks didn't have Jim's skill with sound effects.  

Daryl scanned the house.  Jim was not home.  He was probably
working his charm on some of his military contacts.  Ellison
could be very charming when he wanted to be.

Banks shuddered.  He hoped that Jim didn't *charm* someone
into the hospital or the grave.

#############

Lieutenant Colonel McMahon nearly got the door closed before
Ellison put his weight and strength against it.  "You're
only pissing me off," Jim warned.  "I'm already at the
*livid* level on the Ellison Scale of Explosions.  Don't
make me raise it again."

Jerry relented.  He knew for a fact that Ellison was strong
enough to kick the door down, and the man might have kept
kicking until Jerry was dead.  "What do you want?"

Jim got up into the larger man's face and snarled.  "Imagine
my surprise to find out that I have a grown child, Jerry."

"Congratulations," McMahon said with forced sincerity.

"I don't think you understand where I'm coming from here,
Jerry.  My kid was raised without his father or his mother. 
He's been a *prisoner* of some covert nonsense.  He's not
supposed to exist.  But he does exist, Jerry, and I know you
know that."  He lifted the larger man off his feet.

"I don't know what to tell you, Ellison," McMahon grunted as
he struggled against the RO.

"Start with the truth.  We can wing it after that."  Ellison
shook the younger man for emphasis.

"Put me down and I'll talk."  Ellison lowered McMahon to the
floor.  Jerry worked his neck, relieved to find that it was
still attached.  But not for much longer if he tried to
stall James "Yes, I am going to destroy you" Ellison.

"I'm waiting," Jim prompted with an entire convoy worth of
steel in his voice.  

Jerry cleared his throat.  "They knew about your sentinel
heritage, but you never showed any sign of enhanced senses. 
Since you had all the right genetic markers, they figured
that your somewhat... stiff parents would have made you
suppress anything that would have made you appear to be
enhanced."

Jim nodded.  "I see.  Being enhanced back then would have
been bad."

Very bad.  A Riverworld Overlord tried to conquer the planet
of Beltiz with an army of "morally and physically superior"
soldiers.  It was a bloody war.  Beltiz, known for its
planetary mottoes of love and peace, was like a cornered
tiger when it came to defending itself.

When it was all over, Riverworld was booted out of the Human
Sphere, almost three-quarters of a million people lay dead,
Beltiz became a military power, and the overlord and his
entire staff were executed.

"So who cooked this cloning thing up?" Jim demanded.

Jerry knew the answer was classified, but keeping military
secrets didn't make a good epithet.  "Admiral Linda
Poindexter."

"Where is she?" Ellison hissed.

"Dead.  She was assassinated about eighteen years ago." 
Jerry shook himself.  "In fact, every time I find a name in
this mess, I find a corpse."

"Oh, it was going to go down that way now that I know,"
Ellison promised.  "How many are left on your list?"

Ellison was RO now and lying to him was just plain suicidal. 
So Jerry would tell the truth, just not all of it.  "Just
two--Brigadier Norton Oliver and Colonel Lee Brackett.  Both
are listed as missing in action."

Ellison knew that dodge personally, and his expression told
Jerry that not only did the older man not believe him, Jim
was planning to bust him up pretty bad.

"What are your orders regarding Byron?" Ellison asked.

"Find out where he is and what allies he's made.  We're
hoping he'll return to the center voluntarily.  It's all
he's known," Jerry reported.

In an instant, Jim grew two feet taller, put on three
hundred pounds, and became a cannibal.  "And if he doesn't
want to go back?" he snarled.

"Then it's out of my hands," McMahon admitted.

"Jerry, I'm going to give you some useful career advice. 
Quit.  Run.  Change your name."  Ellison left the office.

Before the door finished closing, Jerry flipped on the
system that would leave a hiss in the RO's head from white
noise directed at his chip.  It was very effective without
doing damage to the chip.  Satisfied that Ellison could not
listen, McMahon ran to his desk and extracted his gun.  

With the weapon held tightly in his hand, Jerry got a secure
line to his superior's office.  "Brigadier Oliver, we've got
bigger problems.  Ellison not only knows about the kid, he's
protecting him."

Oliver made a dismissive sound.  "He may have been one of
the best when he was a Deep Space Ranger, but today he's
just a forty-three year old boy scout with delusions of
grandeur."  The colonel paused.  "I know I don't have to
tell you that we have to contain this thing.  Ellison is
nothing.  We need the kid back now.  He tricked us, and
that's not suppose to happen."  Jerry could hear the older
man's teeth grind.  "Keep me informed."

McMahon closed the connection and tapped in a code to get
him a strike force.  Their target was a private home.  What
chance did they stand against professional soldiers?  He
waited for the secure connection.

Jerry's door flew off the hinges, smashed into the wall, and
broke into hundreds of pieces.  McMahon was so shocked that
he hesitated to raise his gun.  That was all it took. 
Ellison shot him in the head, directly between the eyes.

~~~~~~~~

Jerry was thoroughly surprised to find himself alive. 
Ellison was not known for his mercy factor.  Perhaps being
an RO all these years had softened him.

He was in a cell.  Jerry was guessing that it was a civilian
cell.  "Hey!" he shouted.  "Hey!"

A Guardian stepped up to the bars and snarled. ~Silence,
human.  You are a prisoner and being transported to Camelot
to face formal charges.~

"Camelot?  That'll take days."  What the hell was going on? 
When did Guardians start transporting prisoners?

~Nine days at our present speed,~ the Guardian corrected.
~But we must make several stops on the way.~

McMahon rushed the bars.  The Guardian didn't so much as
blink.  "You have to give me access to an advocate.  You
can't just hold me!"

The Guardian gazed at Jerry with undisguised menace.  ~A
stealer of cubs should have to make the trip strapped to the
*outside* of the ship.  That, to me, would be justice.~

"I have rights!" McMahon shouted.

~So did the child of the Vigilant One.  Your advocate has
been alerted to your arrest and will be waiting for you on
Camelot.~ The Guardian pressed his face close to the bars
and reminded Jerry why so many people were afraid of the
beasts--they were just damn scary.  ~Now silence yourself
before I am *forced* to use you as a training device for our
young.~

The beast strolled away.

Jerry knew he wasn't getting out of this mess alive.

###########

Byron kept a careful eye out for lounging Guardians as he
brought in their purchases.  

"You're clear," Brandy called.  His almost-Aunt Brandy was
all of five years older than himself, and five years younger
than his stepmother, Claudia.  

Brandy had purchased him an earring to mark himself as
unmarried.  Not that he expected the subject to come up
anytime soon.  The girls he had grown up with were only
interested in duty and the corps.  There was nothing else.

Byron flinched at the thought of the punishments he had
received for "daydreaming" in class.  At least he'd had
dreams.  So many of his classmates didn't have their dreams-
-something, anything that wasn't part of the compound or
training grounds.  Something to cling to when he was alone. 
His old friends were probably happily training for the next
war.

"Luncheon is served on the patio," Hawthorne announced.

"Sounds good to me," Brandy said as she took Byron's arm.

Byron liked Brandy because she was easygoing and fun-loving. 
He'd often wondered what kind of family he had.  Now he
knew.  They were an eclectic bunch with interests as diverse
as art to theoretical star shifts that wouldn't happen for
millennia.

But for all their differences, once they knew Byron existed,
they had rallied around in an unbreakable wall of support.

Byron took a deep breath and allowed Brandy to lead them to
the patio.  In the back of his mind, the young man knew all
this couldn't last.  When the military moved, it would
strike quickly and efficiently.  They wouldn't be deterred
by something as insignificant as a two-year-old girl,
Guardians, or even a beautiful old house.

For all their love, with the exception of his father, none
of these people stood a chance.  If he really cared for his
new family, he would make a run for it so they were no
longer targets.

"Byron Ellison, this is your cousin, Daryl Banks," Steve
announced.  

Byron looked over at the young man his uncle was pointing
toward.  He was taller than Byron, about 6' 4", with thick
brown hair, dark brown eyes, and an intelligent and handsome
face.

"Good to meet you, man," Daryl said as he held out his hand. 

Byron took the other man's hand to shake it.  Once their
flesh touched, it was as if he had been hit with a bolt of
static electricity.

Suddenly, Byron felt naked.  It was as if Daryl could read
everything about him and know everything about him.  From
his pitiful nights of crying for a mother he never knew to
the shameful times when he had broken into the kitchens for
food because he had been so hungry.

Daryl didn't let go of his hand, and Byron didn't have the
will to remove it.  

"You're a sentinel.  Can't have too many of those in the
family, cousin," Banks said in a friendly manner.  His gaze
was intense, penetrating actually.  The other man seemed to
resonate with power.

"Thanks," Byron mumbled.

Blair and Jet came down the stairs and headed to the patio. 
Byron found he had once been very aware of where Blair was
at all times.  But now, he had trained his senses toward his
cousin Daryl.

"Hey, Daryl.  How did it go in Liverpool?" Jet asked.

"I'm in," Banks announced.

"As if there were *ever* any doubt?" Brandy asked.

"Bureaucrats have been known to make a mistake or two,"
Daryl said gravely.  He turned back to Byron who still
couldn't release the other man's hand.  "Byron, you can let
go.  I won't leave you."

You could have heard a pin drop, in a pre-school, six blocks
away.  A total stranger with a tenuous, at best, familial
connection to him, had sworn to not leave him.  It wasn't
that he meant he was staying for a day or a week, but that
they were in this thing together.

"Thanks."  Byron was deeply moved.  The room was silent. 
What were they thinking?  What did they think Daryl meant?

"Right under my nose," Blair muttered.

"Come on, let's eat.  Then you and I can go to my house and
talk," Daryl pulled the shorter man along and secured them
seats at the end of the table.

Byron filtered out most of the conversation as it centered
around the upcoming wedding of Steve and Brandy, the design
of the new nursery for Baby Ellison, and how long they would
have to wait before Robert and Maxine would allow them to
babysit.

###########

Jim swept into the house, searched for his son, then relaxed
when he realized Byron was across the street at Simon and
Helaine's house.  Daryl must have returned home.

"Blair?"  Jim hung up his coat while waiting for his guide
to make his way from his study.

"Hey, Jim.  Did you find out anything?" Blair asked.

"Yeah.  Looks like this is one of Norton Oliver's projects,"
Jim reported.  "McMahon is taking the slow ride to Camelot
to face formal charges.  Hopefully Quake won't space him
before then."

"What's our next move?" Blair asked.

Jim centered himself by touching his guide's arm.  The 
emotions of the last two days had him uneasy.  He was
grateful Sandburg was so near.  Ellison lowered his head and
thought. 

His son.  His wonderful, loving son had never had a guide. 
How had he survived?  What was the military thinking?  Did
they think guides would weaken military sentinels?  His
anger rose up again, but Blair automatically soothed it
away.

"Military Intelligence is in it now.  There was no getting
around them."  Jim sighed.  Intelligence had proven itself
to be incredibly clever at times, but would this be one of
those times?

"Is that good or bad?" Blair asked seriously.

"I'm debating," Jim responded with equal seriousness.

Blair slipped an arm around Jim's waist.  "I've got some
good news."

"I could use some good news," Ellison admitted.

"Byron has a guide," Blair announced complete with fanfare
sound effects.

Jim nearly jumped and clicked his heels.  A guide, his son
had a guide.  "Who is it?  How far will they have to come?" 
Ellison gave not a moment's thought to the cost of such a
thing.  He would ask Blair, Claudia, Steve, Helaine, and his
in-laws for the money and get it.  While he would never ask
for himself, there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect and
nurture his son.

"His name is Daryl Banks, and he can walk across the
street," Blair announced.  The younger man was smiling.

"Daryl?"  How was that going to work?  Daryl was studying
medicine and psychic whatevers.  He had very little private
time.  Plus, in two years he should begin taking courses at
the academy.  When would he be able to guide Byron?

"Chief, Daryl is an excellent young man, but he has a
schedule that would break most people.  When would he have
time to help Byron?" Jim asked, sounding as worried as he
felt.

Blair did that "I'm smarter than you" smile.  If Jim ever
told him about the expression, the smaller man would have
been horrified.  "Jim, Byron is an incredible physical
specimen who has spent the last thirteen years of his life
training to be a soldier.  Now he wants to expand his mind. 
Rainier can do that for him.  He and Daryl will be at the
same place most of the time."

"What about the Far Space program?  That's Daryl's dream!?!"

~~~~~~~

"I passed the tests with flying colors.  Once I have my
medical degree, they won't pass me up if I have to delay
entry for a while," Daryl explained as he laid out the chess
pieces on the table in his sitting room.  The college
student's suite included a large bathroom, and access to the
upstairs parlor, the sunroom, and a balcony that overlooked
the backyard.

Byron looked at his cousin and sighed.  "Daryl, it will
affect your rank.  There'll be people ahead of you with less
skill and talent."

Daryl chuckled.  "You forget, my dad is an RO captain.  I
know for a fact that there are less talented, less
intelligent people who outrank my dad.  It's just life.  I'm
not worried."

Byron reached over and touched the taller man's hand.  "What
about the 'Children of a Single Mind'?"

Banks looked into Byron's eyes.  "They will still be there
when I make it out into space."  He increased their mental
contact.

"I can't believe you'd give up your dreams for someone
you've just met," Byron admitted.

Daryl smiled.  "Dreams and goals change, man.  Besides,
you're not just someone I've met, you're Jim's son.  Our
families have been tied together for a long time."

Byron couldn't believe this guy.  There was no one he knew
back at the base whom he would have given up his goal of
freedom for.  Not a single person.  

The young sentinel looked around the nicely cluttered room. 
On the desk was a rotating cube with baby Maria, the twins,
and Victoria's images on it.  He had only met Victoria so
far.  

He could safely say to himself that he wouldn't have escaped
if he had to leave Victoria behind.  They had only met that
day.

"It's a big first step," Daryl said, breaking into Byron's
thoughts.  "Welcome to the family."

###########

"Bad news first," Colonel O'Neill ordered.  

"I can't find out where Brackett is hiding," the young
captain reported.  "My best guess is he's planning a full
strike on the Ellison house to take back the kid."

O'Neill started laughing.  "Oh, dirt," he moaned.

"What, sir?" Hollis asked.

"I know for a fact he can't get a team strong and diverse
enough to take out that family," O'Neill declared.

"There's just the two RO and maybe a few untrained
Guardians.  That's not much to go up against a strike team,"
Hollis insisted.

Angus O'Neill shook his head at the naive captain under his
command.  'What were they teaching these kids?'  He cleared
his throat.  "Captain Hollis, I need a clean-up crew in
Cascade before sundown.  I can't let this get into the
press.  That's just not an option.  We protect the kid and
the secret until we have someone for the press to eat
alive."

Captain Hollis saluted, then rushed out of the office. 
Angus O'Neill sat down at his desk and made some notes. 
There really was no telling what kind of collateral damage
this could involve.  Ellison's home was in a circle of the
wealthy and influential.  They were the kind of neighbors
who could not be intimidated into silence.  So his people
would have to move quickly and remove the bodies.  Assuming
Ellison and his family left anything to gather.

############

"Sorry, honey, but I have an emergency.  One of my patients
has just come into the emergency room," Claudia apologized
over the buzz of the medical personnel behind her.  "Just
save me a sandwich for later."

"I'll defend you a small portion, but I'm not making any
promises," Jim said.  "I'll see you when you get home."

"Love you," Claudia said before closing the channel.

Jim disconnected the call and turned to his father.  "Sorry,
Dad.  Claudia has a patient to attend."

Joe Ellison shrugged.  "It's not like we're leaving right
away," he said as he swirled his wine around his glass.  "I
just wanted to hug her."

Jim smirked.  "The Sandburgs have ruined you, Dad."

The general chuckled.  "True.  Just a few years ago, I would
have merely saluted her for giving me a grandchild."

Jim laughed, then sobered.  "What did you find out?"

Joe ground his teeth, then finished off his wine.  "Jim.  I
can't believe they would do this.  I just can't believe I've
served with some of the very people who knew about this." 
He threw himself down into an overstuffed chair. 
"Everyone's trying to cover their butts instead of closing
the base down.  They did dispatch Colonel Angus O'Neill's
team from Callisto to protect you."

Jim nodded.  "I remember him.  He's a good man, but why not
someone from Earth?"

"That way they can provide you the protection they should
but delay long enough to cover themselves when heads are
needed for the chopping block," Joe reported.

"How many kids do they have?" Jim asked.

Joe let out a long sigh, and looked very, very old to Jim. 
This must have been really eating the man up.  "As near as I
can tell, they have six others besides Byron."  

"Have you found Carolyn?" Jim asked, dreading the answer. 
In his nightmares, she was dead.  Dead women can't be yelled
at.

"Yes, she's at one of our not-supposed-to-exist research
stations."  He leaned toward his son.  "Jim, take it easy on
her.  She spent several years in therapy after losing her
son."

"A son she never bothered to tell me about," Jim growled. 
"That's something I won't forgive."

Joe patted his son's hand.  "I know, Jim, but we need to
focus on Byron now."  He leaned back, regarded his empty
wineglass, but did not refill it.  "How can a medical
student be a guide?  I thought they had to be
anthropologists."

Jim chuckled.  "No, Dad.  With the right skills, a guide
could be a baker.  With Blair's help, Daryl might actually
be a better guide than we could have ever hoped for."

"How so?" Joe asked.

"He's fully psychic with some real daunting skills.  He's
athletic like Byron, just four months older, and the two of
them are a lot alike in temperament.  Best of all, Daryl
will be gentle and patient with him."

Joe nodded.  "Like Blair was with you?"

Jim was surprised at his father's insight.  Ellison rarely
talked about those early days when he could hardly leave
Blair's side for fear of his sentinel gifts overwhelming
him.  "Yeah, like Blair was with me."

Ellison and Sandburg had eaten together, read together, and
when Jim was really shaky, slept together.  The first night,
Jim had slept on the floor despite both Hawthorne's and
Blair's objections.  The following morning, he was stiff and
sore.

Sandburg made him a solemn vow that he wouldn't take
advantage of Jim if he shared the same mattress.  

"I know you fear me, Jim, and rightly so," Blair said
sincerely, "but as your physician I swear not to knock you
around and have my wicked way with you."

Jim had laughed his very expensive orange juice out of his
nose.  That night he shared the bed with his friend and
never again had a problem about going there when he needed
it.

"Alert, alert!" Jet called, breaking Jim out of his
memories.  "Military hush-jet coming in over the
neighborhood."

A hush-jet could carry up to twenty people in total silence
and was virtually undetectable, but thanks to the timely
upgrade of their systems--courtesy of Merry Sandburg, Shelly
Rosenberg, and Joyce Vecchio, they could detect them.

The household shields went up to full strength, expanding
out to cover the entire backyard.  Once the youngest
Guardians were inside the house, the shields would shrink to
only cover the house.

After Jet's alert, the place was silent except for the sound
of scurrying young Guardians.  Exactly as planned, the
nineteen members of the strike team dropped on the house and
were immediately shocked for their trouble.

Some were tossed as far as the street, while others simply
slid down the side to lie in the gardens.  Some of the
attackers were nearly impaled on the decorative wrought iron
fence, which protected the herbal garden from the
enthusiastic digging of young pups, when they landed on it.

Ellison moved out into the now unoccupied backyard and let
the shield pull back.  A singularly *strange* feeling.

Four shots from his cannon brought the hush-jet down into
the streets.  He took fire from six separate shooters, but
his Bailey armor deflected it.  

Jet rushed past and took out two shooters.  Five adult
Guardians came bounding over the fence.  They were moving so
quickly that Jim was unable to put a name to each of them by
their markings.

Ellison ignored the battle around him, and instead
concentrated on finding the one man he knew would be here--
Lee Brackett.

A prismatic field opened up to the right of his position. 
This would bend and deflect the house's shields in a small
area.  Ellison rushed forward because the man wielding the
device was Lee Brackett.

Unable to take a clear shot because of the closeness of
other combatants, Jim dove into the other man's back.  They
went tumbling into the kitchen, knocked over the breakfast
table, and slammed into the big picture window.  The glass
held.

Brackett set off some device to jam his chip, but it only
managed to piss Jim off.  How dare this monster come after
his child?  How dare they keep Byron from Jim in the first
damn place?

All the hurt, anger, and betrayal came pouring out as Jim
beat Brackett with his bare hands.  When Ellison finally let
the battered, disarmed, and defeated Lee fall to the blood-
slicked floor, silence had descended.

"Think about your next move," Brackett gurgled after
spitting out four teeth.  He pushed his palm against the
floor and activated a communications device.

"Jim, I have your lovely little bride and the child she
carries in my possession," a man said.  Ellison could only
assume that it was Norton Oliver.  "I will exchange her,
unharmed, for Byron.  That's quite a bargain--a kid you've
only known for a few days for your beloved wife and unborn
son."  The man chuckled.  "In case you try to screw with me,
I should tell you the child is a sentinel too, and I win no
matter which one I get."

Jim could hear his family gasping around him.  The coldness
of their adversary must have struck terror in their hearts.

Daryl reached over and grabbed Brackett's face.  The older
man struggled futilely against Daryl's assault, then sagged
with his eyes vacant and his mouth hanging open.

"Norton Oliver does have her," the psychic reported. 
"Taking her was the backup plan."  Daryl stepped away.



Daryl rushed out of the house and across the street.  His
sentinel was climbing into the assault vehicle.  Wasn't that
a strange phrase--*his* sentinel?

Daryl opened the driver's side and made Byron scoot over. 
"It let you in because you and Jim have the same
fingerprints, but your retinal scans will not match because
he is older than you and your pattern changes with age and
injury."  Banks stepped through the pre-flight as quickly as
he could.

"Daryl, you shouldn't be here," Byron protested.  Oliver
will kill Claudia if I don't give myself up.  I can't let
anything happen to her and dad's *real* baby."

Banks counted to ten while taking off.  "Byron, you are
Jim's *real* baby.  Don't ever think otherwise.  If anyone
tells you different, ignore them.  Parents aren't just some
trick of biology.  They're also about pure love and the need
to protect.  Jim feels like your father.  Jim is your
father.  That's all you need to know."

Daryl couldn't imagine what it would be like to grow up with
no family.  Alone.  A tiny island in a vast ocean.  It made
him queasy to contemplate such loneliness.  "Which part of
the ring are we going to?"

"How did you... Never mind.  Military adjunct 14.  I don't
know the name of the ship, but if we get close enough, we
should be able to figure it out."

Daryl nodded.  "Call home and tell them where we're heading. 
Make sure they know we'll update them and keep the ship from
leaving."

"Do you know anything about stopping ships?" Byron asked
sarcastically.

Daryl snickered.  "Are you kidding?  Doctor Vecchio spent
six weeks yelling 'don't touch that!' at me while we were
upgrading the Rock Hard.  I know what not to touch."

"Hello, Blair.  Daryl and I are doing a reconnaissance of
the military docking rings.  We'll call back as soon as we
have a location.  Bye."  Byron looked over at Daryl.  "He's
going to kill us when he gets a hold of us."

"He'll have to get in line behind my mother and father, your
father and stepmother, and my grandparents," Daryl
corrected.  "He can probably squeeze in just ahead of
Claudia's parents."

"Aren't you worried about what they might do?" Byron asked
softly.

"Byron, they will not send either of us away.  That's just
not going to happen," Daryl promised his skittish sentinel. 
"We're on a rescue.  We're providing the information they
might not be able to get on their own.  They're mad, but
it's not fatal."

Byron was silent.  Daryl could feel the man drowning in his
own guilt for being the cause of this whole thing.

"You know, if you want to lessen the impact, call Dorothy
'Nana', Claudia 'Mom', and Frederick 'Papa'.  Use the names
'Uncle Blair', 'Uncle Simon', 'Aunt Helaine', 'Aunt Jet',
'Aunt Naomi', and 'Uncle Marcus' *whenever* possible.  Jim
will mush out if you call him 'Daddy' when you apologize for
your heroic and abrupt departure."

Byron chuckled.  "There's no way that's going to work on
them."

Daryl snorted.  "You just have no idea, guy.  Opening up to
them, making yourself vulnerable by declaring your need for
affection, and asking for their strength will be the key to
their forgiveness.  The hugging line will snake around the
block."

"Are you sure it will be a *hugging* line?" Byron asked
suspiciously.

Daryl was really going to have to *hurt* whoever had made
his sentinel so fearful of disapproval.  "Byron, on my
honor, no one will ever strike you in this family.  It's
just not going to happen."

They arrived at the docking rings.  The assault vehicle was
designed for this kind of orbit but was rarely out of the
atmosphere.  Banks hoped that the noise of the air scrubbers
wasn't causing Byron any pain.

On the sixth ship they circled, Daryl could feel Claudia's
highly focused mind.  She was as mad as the mythical Tellian
were-tiger.  He could imagine her barely one hundred pounds
of fury prowling around her cage.

"Found her.  Call in our position," Daryl ordered.

                            . . . .


Colonel O'Neill's team arrived just in time to join in the
negotiations with the Guardians for the prisoners they held. 

"You don't want to keep that smelly human in armor," Angus
said soothingly to the Guardian known as Firestorm.  "I
could arrange for you to have some mushrooms."

~I smell no mushrooms in the area,~ the Guardian asserted.

"I would have to go and get the mushrooms," O'Neill
explained.

"Get this damn *dog* off me!" the soldier demanded.

Firestorm struck her prisoner.  The man shrieked.  ~Silence,
foul human.  It would be only a slight inconvenience to wash
your final blood from my mouth.~

O'Neill cringed.  This could get ugly.

Doctor Blair Sandburg came over and scanned the man whom
Firestorm was lying on.  "He'll live," he announced
unexcitedly.  "A full point to you, Firestorm.  Now let
these men remove this offal from my yard."

The Guardian let the prisoner be taken away.  O'Neill was
stunned.  ~I nearly had extra mushrooms out of this,~ she
complained.

Blair bent down nose-to-nose with Firestorm.  "You'll get
them anyway," he promised.

"Byron just called," Jim shouted.  "They've found Claudia."

"Where is she being held?"  O'Neill asked.

"The Mesopotamia.  It's a research vessel," Jim responded.

"How are we going to get aboard?" Catherine Ellison asked
while she applied pressure to her husband's bleeding nose. 
"You have to have triple-level clearance just to send that
ship an encrypted and encoded message."

"I can get you in," Joe muttered.  His voice was muffled by
the cold towel pressed against his bleeding nose.  "I've got
the clearance we need.  Consider it done."  He whispered the
codes in his wife's ear as his injuries would keep him out
of the assault group.

O'Neill knew the brass would take a dim view of General
Ellison parting with classified material or using it to save
his daughter-in-law and unborn grandchild.  As cold as that
sounded, the military could ill afford to place their
secrets in the hands of people who put themselves above the
interests of the Human Sphere.

Joe Ellison would probably be forced into retirement even
though he was on the short list to become the new commander
of the First Fleet.

###########

Over their heads, the launch bay doors began cycling. 
"They're moving Claudia," Byron announced.  "Oliver wants
her on a launch just in case they need to flee.  He doesn't
trust Dad to stick to the bargain of trading me."

"Fearing Jim is the only smart thing he's done so far,"
Daryl grumbled.  "We can't let them take her anywhere."  He
looked over at his sentinel.  "How do we get aboard?"

"You're not going to like this," Byron began.

"That's a given," Banks responded, "but tell me anyway."

"We get arrested."

"What!?!" Daryl shrieked.

Byron touched the taller man's hand.  "They have three or
four layers of security on every entrance.  The only way in
is to make them pull us in."  He looked over the controls of
the AV.  "We need to reduce the power signature and hide
some of the weaponry from their scans.  We'll have to either
blast our way out once we have Claudia or be able to hole up
in the AV until our rescue arrives."

"This plan has so many holes in it, it's virtually
transparent," Banks complained.

"That's the beauty of it.  It's simple."  Byron gave his
friend his most winsome smile.  It worked.

"I *know* I'm going to regret this," Daryl said as he
operated the console on the AV.  "I'm taking the AV into
training mode.  Since I'm not old enough for a civilian APV
license, they should assume that the AV will not authorize
weapons for me."

"Brilliant," Byron said in admiration.  He puzzled.  "You do
have a license, don't you?"

"No, even with an RO dispensed license, I *still* have to
wait until I'm 21 to get a civilian one."

Byron shook his head in puzzlement.  "They'll let you fly an
armored assault vehicle, complete with weapons, but not an
unarmed civilian vehicle.  That's insane."

"The law was never meant to make sense," Daryl responded. 
"How else would advocates earn a living?"

Byron chose the best attack vector and laid the course into
the co-pilot's computer.  Daryl accepted the coordinates,
and they were off.

They rushed the research ship and were caught in a tractor
beam.  The vessel fought valiantly before being pulled onto
the military craft.



Brigadier Norton Oliver smiled at the two handsome young men
being ushered into his office.  As soon as Doctor Ellison
spotted them, she scratched the face of the soldier holding
her and rushed to them.  The petite woman hugged the two
young men.

"Welcome, boys."  He grinned ferally at Byron.  The kid was
totally hopeless if he could be forced to give himself up
for a near stranger.  Now he had attached himself to a
pathetic little psychic.  Well, there were no 'Children of a
Single Mind' here to hear Daryl Banks scream from his cell.

"Load all three of them on the transport," Oliver ordered. 
"Ellison could be here any second."

The three prisoners moved away meekly.  Later he would
realize that should have set off every alarm in his head.


"Daryl, I can't believe--" Claudia began.

Byron nudged his stepmother into silence.  His partner was
concentrating, and it was up to Byron to keep him from being
distracted.

The collision alarm sounded, followed by the fire and
environmental alarms.  Byron snapped the neck of the soldier
who dared lay his filthy hands on Claudia, just as he had
been trained to do.  He dropped the man to the ground and
took his weapons.  Daryl did something to the other guard. 
The man walked forward and began shooting the place up.

Their little group ran to the AV and got in.  The dazzled
soldier continued to fire until members of his own squad
shot him down.

"End training mode," Banks ordered once the doors were
secured.  Byron strapped Claudia in himself before getting
his own harness on.  Daryl nearly squished him to the
ceiling as he dropped down one floor and began shooting up
the launch that would have taken them away.  The ship
exploded and left a large hole in the bay doors.  

The inside of a ship's doors were substantially weaker than
the outside because *all* of the ship's shields were on the
outer hull.  With the ship now exposed to vacuum, they were
able to fly out.

Daryl flew like a demon as they maneuvered away from the
ship and their pursuers.  They were just clear of the hull
when the first of the Arrow ships arrived.  Developed for
deep space missions, these prototypes were still in the
testing stage.  But since the Rosenberg family owned the
corporation, they had access.

Byron was shocked to the core when every bay door on the
ship opened.  How had they gotten the codes?  Byron had been
so convinced that the codes couldn't be broken he had
endangered his guide just so they could get inside.  

The young sentinel looked over at his guide who was moving
the AV back into the atmosphere and heading toward home. 
Daryl could have been killed.  He had risked his guide for
nothing.  Byron deserved whatever his father decided to do
to him.  He deserved to rot in whatever hellhole Oliver
wanted to put him in.

With no words spoken aloud, Daryl reached over with his mind
and touched Byron's sorrow.  ~You were right, Byron.  If we
had delayed, Claudia would have been gone by the time our
family got here.~

"Attention, attention," Claudia called over the
communications unit.  "This is Nightingale.  Byron and Daryl
have picked me up.  We're going home."  The doctor waited
for confirmation.

"Acknowledged, Nightingale.  Welcome home," Simon said.

Claudia looked over at Daryl.  "Do you think they'll break
off the attack now that they know I'm not aboard?"

The psychic cocked an eyebrow at Claudia.  "You've got to be
kidding.  They won't stop until the guilty lie at their
feet.  Hopefully begging for mercy through broken teeth."

"It would be unsound tactics for them to retreat," Byron
stated.  "It would just give Oliver's people the excuse they
need to try again."  He touched Claudia's shoulder.  "I
couldn't risk you like that."

Claudia kissed her stepson's cheek.  "You're so sweet."

                            . . . .

Norton Oliver crawled steadily through the shaft that would
take him to his "captain's yacht", which was secured
underneath the belly of  the ship.  Once he was there, he
was gone.  Later, if his contacts didn't dry up, he would
mount a rescue for Brackett and his team.

He wasn't worried about the Guardians who had come onboard. 
They were simply too large to make it down his escape route. 
An average man in armor would also be too large.  For now,
Oliver was safe.

As he was easing around the last juncture, far from the
sounds of battle, he felt someone or something grab his
ankle.  Trying not to panic, because he couldn't turn around
and see what had him, Norton kicked back as hard as he
could.

He was dragged backwards.  Norton's face began to bounce
along the ridged metal of the shaft.  When he had been
pulled back almost six meters, he was able to get a grip on
the lowest metal bar of the ladder of an upward shaft and
cling.

Oliver ventured a look over his shoulder and saw a metal
claw attached to his ankle.  Hooking his arm around the bar,
the brigadier withdrew his pulse cannon and fired.  The
metal grip snapped off, and Norton was free.

The brigadier scrambled back down the shaft toward his
escape; dropping down the tube and into the pilot seat with
minimum fuss.  Sitting in the co-pilot's seat was James
Ellison--the original one.

Ellison's fist seemed to grow to the size of a round
watermelon, which struck with the force of tri-steel. 
Oliver was slammed into the control panel.  Jim grabbed the
back of Norton's head and smashed it again and again into
the console.

During this beating, Ellison never said a word.  He made no
demands, voiced no accusations, and delivered no speeches. 
He just hummed "The First to Land," the official song of the
Deep Space Rangers, as he beat the crap out of Norton.

Oliver kept hoping for either a clean death or
unconsciousness.  Neither was forthcoming.  He struggled
against Ellison, but it was useless.  Every move he made,
Jim knew the countermove.  Every time he broke the other
man's grip, Ellison just applied another.

The last thing Norton saw before passing out was the hate-
filled eyes of the man he thought he could recreate.  Oliver
hit the cold metal floor as his own blood slowly outlined
his body.


###########

Nineteen days after the rescue of Claudia, Major General
William Joseph Ellison, VII was called before a military
board of inquiry.  It was a private hearing, unlike the
other matters concerning the case of the "cloned sentinels".

The media had leapt onto the story like it was the ultimate
low-calorie, high-taste meal.  Virtually no one escaped
their harsh scrutiny.  Several of Joe's colleagues were
facing prison time.  Many had been demoted or cashiered.

Lawsuits were being filed from every possible complainant. 
Death threats were being leveled at the guilty and those who
simply said nothing.

The only thing the family had managed to do was to keep the
names and faces of the young sentinels out of the media. 
The government owed them that much.

No amount of money could compensate the young sentinels,
though a large amount had been set aside for each child. 
How much is the first nineteen years of your life worth? 
What kind of dollar amount can you place on losing your
parents, your home, or your very identity.  Money had its
uses, but it could never be enough.

The board meeting was short and sweet.  He was charged with
breaching the security of the Mesopotamia.  They had him
cold.  It was his codes that had allowed the rescue party
inside the research vessel.  

Ellison knew the people sitting before him.  He knew their
characters, most of their flaws, and where their loyalties
lay.  While each and every one of them might sympathize with
Joe's position and actions, not one of them would let him
off.  That was as it should be.  Joe was a liability.  He
had gone soft.  

"I plead guilty," he said firmly.  Joseph Ellison, ninth
generation military man, was corps to his marrow.  He had
placed the job before his marriage, his children, and some
would say, his humanity, but he could not turn his back on
Claudia and her unborn son when they needed him.  

Joe Ellison had joined the military as soon as he was of
legal age.  Being a general was his greatest dream.  Just a
month ago, he had been privately assured that the rank of
Lieutenant General and the post of Commander of the First
Fleet were his.  Now he was out.

He had learned, perhaps a little late in life, what was
really important.  What he *truly* would be leaving behind. 
It wasn't his policies, which the officers who followed him
would change, or the ships he helped launch.  It was his
family who was his true legacy.  

The gavel fell, signaling the end of his military career. 
It wasn't that hard after all.

Ellison stepped outside to find his family waiting anxiously
for him.  His family.  His wonderful family.  Wife, sons,
grandson, near-son, daughters-in-law, future daughter-in-
law, and in-laws, all waiting to hear the verdict.  They
must have known, like he knew, that his career was over. 
The moment he handed over those codes and permitted a
security breach of one of the most top-secret research
vessels, William Joseph Ellison was finished.

Joe's eye fell on his newly discovered grandson.  As usual,
Daryl was close at hand to steady the young man as Byron
made the difficult transition from soldier to citizen.  For
Byron alone, it had all been worth it.

"Well, family, I'm going to be allowed to retire.  But I
*am* retiring."  No one said anything.  He hadn't expected
it.  Could they really say and mean they were sorry Joe was
no longer a part of an organization that could perpetrate
such a crime?  He slipped his arm around Steve's shoulders. 
"What was this about a standing job offer, son?  I need
work."

"Me, too," Catherine threw in.  "I'm retiring also."  She
kissed her husband's cheek.  "I can't let you have all the
fun."

"I have great benefits," Steve said.  "Not to mention
excellent salaries."

"I could always let Cathy support me while I write my
memoirs," Joe suggested.

"Once you cut out all the classified stuff, it would be
about two pages long," Jim quipped.

Joe nodded.  "But I'm sure all of you will give me something
to write about later."  With that thought, Joe Ellison took
his first step into his new life and didn't look back.

###########

Norton Oliver didn't listen as his lengthy crimes were read
into the record.  He didn't stop his doodling while the
witnesses testified against him.  He just didn't care.  

They had been so close.

The Sentinel Project had been the culmination of years of
hard work, but in the end it had failed.  Not because of one
young man who had escaped, but because once O'Neill's team
found the young sentinels, not one of the six wanted to stay
in the program.  The key?  Guides.

The one area he had dismissed as pure poppycock had turned
out to be his Achilles' heel.  With the proper training and
experience, no sentinel should have been dependant on a
guide.  He had staked the project on that assumption.  He
had failed.

Byron had found a guide once he had been reunited with his
father.  Now all the others wanted guides too.  Even the
most loyal of them had dropped the project once they were
promised guides would be found for them.

Oliver looked up as the sentence for Brackett was read. 
Twenty-five years?  If his assistant got twenty-five years,
how long was he going to get?

At last, it was his turn.  The judge was very solemn as she
read the sentence--forty years.  He would spend what could
be the last of his life working on some just settled planet. 
Oliver hid a smile.

The former military man had contacts, hidden assets, and a
slippery nature.  He would escape and start again.  This
time, he would clone both sentinel and guide.  Norton would
never make that mistake again.

###########

Jim placed the glass of iced tea in his friend's hand and
sat down on the teak bench with him.  "Are you sure you want
to do this, Chief?" Ellison asked anxiously.  "I can't
believe you're going to quit your job.  You love teaching."

Blair reached out and stroked his sentinel's face.  "It's
called a sabbatical, Jim.  I'm not quitting.  In fact, I
will be doing *more* teaching."  He looked out into the
backyard where young sentinels and potential guides were
meeting.  "This is going to take a great deal of our time
and skills.  I had to make a choice."

Jim seemed choked up.  He reached over and squeezed the
smaller man's hand.  "Thanks, Chief, I can't tell you how
much this means to me."

Blair squeezed his friend's hand.  "You don't have to tell
me, Jim.  I know."

Gentle Breeze padded over. ~Can I be a sentinel and Vicki be
my guide?~ she asked.

Blair looked over at the softly swinging hammock where
Claudia and Vicki were napping.  "Sorry, sweetheart, Vicki
is going to be Damien's guide."

Jim looked up, but did not seem to be surprised.  "Yes, she
will."

Breeze pouted.  ~But I wanted to play sentinels and guides.~

"It's not a game, Breeze," Jim said softly.  "For a
sentinel, nothing is as important as your guide.  Sometimes
they are your only anchor to the world."  Ellison leaned
over and kissed the smaller man's temple.

Blair smiled.  "I love you too, Jim."


                         End Chapter 28