THE GRAY LETTER

                   A Sonic the Hedgehog fanfic

                       by Daniel J. Drazen


     "I shan't be long, Mrs. Sommersby."
     "Exactly on time," thought Martha Sommersby as her husband,
Alec, took his walking stick in hand and approached the kitchen
door.
      The two of them had been living in what was once the Mobian
Royal Compound on the Floating Island for the past nine years. 
And for most of those years now, every day had been more or less
like the one before.  Martha would always rise about a half-hour
before her husband, then shuffle to the spacious kitchen as fast
as her advancing age would allow.  By the time she had finished
preparing breakfast she would be greeted by Colonel Alec
Sommersby, Royal Mobian Army, retired.  They would sit down
together at a small table, dwarfed by the large fixtures and
appliances which accommodated state banquets for hundreds back in
the days when the Compound was fully staffed and the Royal Family
was in residence.  Now the compound was silent.
     It was that silence that set the tone every morning, Martha
thought to herself, as they had breakfast.  If Alec ever asked
her to pass the salt she would have considered it to be lively
conversation.  This morning, he had been silent as usual.
     With breakfast finished, Alec rose from the table.  Dressed
in the same fatigue outfit that he wore when he was in active
service, he would then say the same half-dozen words he said
every morning before taking his morning constitutional: three
times around the perimeter of the compound, a trip that would
usually last an hour.  That would give Martha a chance to clear
away the dishes and to begin attending to whatever housekeeping
was needed that day.
     Today was no different.  She gathered up the plates, walked
over to the sink with them in her hand, then waited to hear the
sound of the door closing.  That was usually her cue to begin
running the water in the sink.
     This morning, though, she didn't hear the door close. 
Instead she heard Alec speaking.  And, what made her prick up her
ears and what froze her heart, someone was answering.
     Setting the dishes on the counter she walked toward the
doorway where her husband stood rooted to the spot.  She couldn't
make out what he was saying, and once she saw the one to whom he
was speaking it didn't matter.
     Standing not twenty feet in front of the doorway was a boy. 
He appeared to be about ten years old.  The clothes he had on   a
blue cape with a high collar and gold fasteners, a blue tunic and
knee-high boots   were dirty and torn.  They looked as if they'd
been through five days of hard travel, or one day in the life of
a ten-year-old boy.
     But this wasn't what caused Martha to catch her breath.  Not
only were the clothes familiar to her, but the face was as well. 
She'd seen that face, or ones very much like it, every day for
years now, having dusted the portraits of members of the House of
Acorn hanging throughout the compound.  There could be no
mistaking it.  He had the same look, he appeared to be the right
age, and there was no mistaking the birthmark on his exposed left
forearm: a black patch of fur in the shape of a star.
     Mrs. Sommersby thought she should be happy at this moment;
instead, she felt slightly dizzy as if the sun was coming up in
the wrong part of the sky.  In all the years that she and her
husband had been in retirement while serving as caretakers of the
Compound, there was always a question in the back of her mind,
one that had occurred many times to her husband as well: What had
become of Queen Alicia and her infant son, Prince Elias?  And
now, now here was the long-lost Prince and heir to the Throne of
Mobius.
     Martha didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do. 
Then she heard Alec pointedly clearing his throat after managing
to get down on one knee.  He then addressed the boy: "Your
Highness."
     "Your Highness," Martha said as she curtseyed.
     "Then this IS the Royal Compound?" the boy asked.
     "Indeed, Your Highness," Alec said as he got to his feet and
came to attention.  "Colonel Alec Sommersby, late of His
Majesty's Royal Guardsmen, at your service!"  He brought his
heels together with a sharp snap, saluting with one hand while
holding his walking stick under his arm as if it were his old
military baton.
     "Uh...hello," the boy said awkwardly, not sure how to return
the salute.  "Is anyone else here?"
     "No, Your Highness.  Rather a sticky situation back on the
home world.  No communication in years...."
     "Oh, for goodness sake, Alec!" Martha said as she swept past
her husband.  "There's time enough for that!  Have you had
anything to eat, dear...I mean, Your Highness?"
     "Not since yesterday, ma'am."
     "Well, then, breakfast should be the first order of
business.  This way into the kitchen, Your Highness."
     "Wherever you're from," Alec observed as the boy walked into
the kitchen, "you've learned manners.  Very good.  Where ARE you
from?"
     "I'm not supposed to tell, Captain."
     "That's 'Colonel,' Your Highness.  And who said you're not
supposed to tell?"
     "The ones who brought me up."
     "Are you referring to the natives of this place?"
     "Alec, please," Martha interrupted as she set a glass of
juice and two slices of toast in front of Elias.  "You can ask
him anything you like once he's had something to eat."
     "Not that they're all that keen on showing themselves,
anyway," Alec muttered as Elias quickly polished off the food set
in front of him.  With quiet efficiency, Martha prepared a bowl
of porridge topped with sliced fruit, more toast with several
kinds of jams, then she brought out a breakfast relish consisting
of chopped nuts and fresh berries.  Prince Elias ate everything
quickly.  Martha shook her head.  "They must not have fed him
very well," she thought to herself.
     Finally, Elias slowed down in his eating, and Martha noticed
the boy's head begin to fall forward.
     "Are you all right, Your Highness?" she asked.
     Elias looked up a her.  "I guess I'm a little sleepy."
     "Colonel," she said as she turned toward Alec, "where shall
he sleep?"
     "Master bedroom, of course.  That's what it's there for,
after all."
     "Good thing I aired out that room several days ago."  Martha
started to say something else, paused, then let whatever it was
go unsaid as she dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand.
     "I'll just be off, then," Alec said as he walked to the
door.  "I shan't be long, Mrs. Sommersby.  Your Highness," he
added with a bow.
     Elias was tiring quickly.  He heard little of what Mrs.
Sommersby said to him as she conducted him out of the kitchen,
down a long corridor, and into a large bedroom.  Dominating the
room was a large canopied bed, the comforter on top a deep blue. 
He sat down on the mattress and felt someone pulling the boots
off his feet.  He guessed that it was still Mrs. Sommersby; he
was too tired to open his eyes and look.  The next thing he knew,
he was sinking into the mattress and feeling the comforter being
drawn over him. 

                       *        *        *

     He was walking, putting one foot in front of the other, not
looking where he was, not thinking about it.  He didn't know
where he was going.  He only knew he had to keep going.  But now
he could go no further.  He didn't even have the strength to
collapse to the ground.  He stopped and leaned his hand against
the trunk of a nearby tree.
     It slowly registered in his mind that this tree felt
unusual, not like any tree he knew of.  It felt smooth, hard,
cold.  Very cold.
     He looked up.  With a start he realized that he was no
longer leaning against a tree.  Instead it was glass: he was
surrounded by the glass walls of a giant tube, a tube that seemed
to extend upward forever, past the sky.
     Suddenly he heard and felt liquid surging into the tube from
below.  The liquid was green, heavy as oil, and it chilled him
right through his boots.  He tried to move but his feet wouldn't
budge.  He tried pounding on the glass but it didn't do any good;
it didn't even make a sound.  The liquid was rising fast now and
would be up to his neck in a second.  It was so cold he couldn't
draw breath.  Looking out through the glass of the tube he saw
several shadowy beings gathered around, their faces strangely
glowing.  It seemed that they were waiting with anticipation. 
They were waiting for him to drown.  Then, despite the cold and
the wet and the panic that had been building inside him, he
managed to draw breath and let out a scream.
     "Your Highness!"
     Elias opened his eyes.  The first thing he saw was the face
of Mrs. Sommersby, eyes wide, biting her lower lip.  Then the
rest of the room started coming into focus: the elegant
furniture, the paneling on the walls, all of it wood and all of
it apparently hand-carved by masters at the craft.
     Just then there was an explosion of light.  Someone had
drawn aside one of the curtains that covered the windows. 
Outside was a green and peaceful world bathed in sunlight.  Elias
squinted.
     "Are you all right, Your Highness?" Mrs. Sommersby asked.
     "Course he's all right," her husband replied.  He was now
dressed in what he considered to be his everyday clothes: a blue
double-breasted coat and trousers, white shirt, red necktie. 
This was the "service dress" uniform of a Mobian officer, a
guardsman.  His sleeve rank insignia was the faintest of
memories, the outline barely visible from where the stitching had
been removed.  On the jacket he wore a gold-colored medal on a
bright yellow ribbon.  Epaulets fringed with gold braid sat on
his shoulders.  "The lad was near exhaustion when he came here,
but I dare say that a good rest has set him right."
     "What time...?" Elias started to ask Mrs. Sommersby.
     "Almost midday, Your Highness.  Are you quite sure you're
all right?"  With concern in her eyes, Martha reached out toward
the boy, as if to smooth down his headfur.
     "We'll have none of THAT, Mrs. Sommersby!" Alec said with
such an edge in his voice that Martha gasped.  She looked as if
she was about to say something to her husband, then checked
herself.
     "I ... I'd like to look around the place, if you don't
mind," Elias said as he slid out of the bed which was far too
soft for him, anyway.
     "Of course, Your Highness," the Colonel replied.  "If you'll
just wait out in the corridor I won't be a minute."  Colonel
Sommersby led him to the massive doors of the bedroom, then
closed them behind him once he was outside.  Instantly, Elias
pressed his ear to the door.  It didn't help much.  He was only
able to catch phrases, parts of sentences, spoken in a tone that
saddened him: "...know your place, woman ... no sense of
decorum...." "...he's still only a boy, Alec...." "...know full
well what he is..." "...a perfectly good bed in...." "...out of
the question!  And I forbid you to...."
     Elias pulled himself away from the door.  He looked down the
corridor and wondered whether he hadn't simply traded one large,
empty prison for another.

                       *        *        *

     The Royal Compound on the Floating Island was laid out in
the form of an open square.  Starting at the main entrance with
its spacious atrium, the King's Parlor was the square's southeast
corner.  Here the King of Mobius held court, received visitors,
and conducted state business while in residence.  Colonel
Sommersby pointed out portraits of past monarchs and rattled off
the dates of their reigns as Elias focused on other things in the
room: old arms and armor arranged decoratively along the wall,
and a number of banners suspended from the gilded ceiling.
     "What's that thin one?" he asked the Colonel, pointing to a
forest green pennant embroidered in gold with an acorn.
     "Ah, yes.  That's the Banner of Residency.  It's flown just
below the Mobian flag when the monarch is in residence.  Or it
should be, anyway.  Flagpole's broken.  Have to remember to see
to that now."
     At the southwest corner was the Ballroom, lined with gilded
mirrors and with a dozen chandeliers suspended from the ornate
ceiling.  It wasn't a large ballroom by some standards, but the
western corridor that continued north off the ballroom could be
opened up to allow for a greater number of guests.  Off this
corridor, doors opened out into the courtyard in the center of
the compound.  At one time it had been a formal garden; now it
was a well-manicured lawn.
     "Better that way, actually," the Colonel observed.  "Mrs.
Sommersby and I can't tend a garden the way we used to."
     The corridor that ran along the north side of the building 
was anchored by the kitchen at the northwest corner, the Royal
Bedroom at the center, and the Dining Room at the northeast
corner.  The Dining Room was all but closed off, its furniture
stored in a corner and covered with bed sheets.  The rest of the
north corridor was taken up by servant's and guest quarters. 
Elias noted that the Colonel did not hesitate to tell him which
room belonged to him and his wife, but the Colonel said nothing
at all as they passed the room next to it.  Elias quickly slipped
back behind the Colonel and tried the knob.
     Locked.
     He made a note of the door and caught up with the Colonel,
who was still talking about the history of the place.
     Along the eastern corridor off the King's Parlor was a suite
of offices for whatever officials and retainers the royal family
might need.  It was among these offices that the Communications
Room was located.  It held a bank of impressive-looking equipment
with many lights, dials, buttons and screens, but Elias seemed
pointedly unimpressed by the technological array and asked simply
"Does it work?"
     "Well, yes, I suppose it does, but...."
     "Can you contact Mobius with it?"
     The Colonel said nothing.
     "I asked you if you can contact Mobius!"
     "Your Highness ... that ... would not be ... advisable."
     "And why not?"
     Again, silence.
     "Colonel, if I AM the Prince I can order you to contact
Mobius, can't I?"
     "Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but what do you know of
Mobius?"
     "Almost nothing!  That's why I want to find out!"
     The Colonel's eyes widened.  "You mean you know nothing of
the Great War?  And what happened after?"
     Silence hung in the air.  Elias walked out of the room and
into the hallway.  He sat in one of the chairs against the
opposite wall, and spent several seconds studying the toe of one
of his boots.  The Colonel stood just in front of him, his hands
behind his back.
     "I know about the War," Elias told the Colonel, his eyes
cast down, "but they ... but I never really learned what came
after, not in any way that made sense."
     "Awkward business, this.  Very awkward.  Still, I'll tell
you what I know.
     "Mrs. Sommersby and I were in residence here when the War
ended.  Sort of in retirement even then, you might say, looking
after the place.  When we'd heard that the fighting was over we
fully expected the Royal Family to contact us with the news.  We
left the receiver on so that we could hear.
     "Next thing we know, some blighter calling himself 'Dr.
Robotnik' is all over the airwaves saying that he'd taken over
the government and everyone was to surrender to him to be
'roboticized,' whatever THAT meant.  Never heard such blather in
all my life!  What really bothered me was that he'd managed a
fair imitation of War Minister Julian, which took a lot of cheek
if you ask me.  Then everything simply went dead.  That was ...
let me see ... that was in 3224, just about three years ago.  I
turn on the receiver from time to time, but so far I've heard
nothing."
     "You probably shouldn't do that," Elias said quietly.  "I
understand now."
     "Understand what?"
     "The ... the ones who looked after me ... they tried
teaching me history but the way they taught it, it was all a
muddle.  Or maybe I didn't want to believe it.  But this Robotnik
WAS War Minister Julian.  He ... he betrayed Mobius.  He betrayed
my father.  I ... they never told me what happened to the king."
     Elias had never looked up the entire time he had spoken. 
Colonel Sommersby paced toward a window.  He stared out,
muttering: "Didn't want to say anything ... King's choice to take
him in and all ... Brilliant mind, for an Overlander ... but of
all the foul, black-hearted...!"  He turned to Elias.  "And just
what in thunder is this 'roboticizing' nonsense?"
     "It's not nonsense, Colonel.  Dr. Robotnik has come up with
a means of, well, of turning Mobians into robots, answerable only
to him.  They're his workers now, his slaves."
     "Staggers the imagination," the Colonel said softly.  "And
he's taken over all of Mobius?"
     "That's what they told me.  Guess I'm not Prince of much of
anything, am I?"
     "Nonsense, Your Highness!  You're ... you're the sole
surviving heir.  Has to count for something!"
     "But for what?"
     The Prince's question remained unanswered as they heard Mrs.
Sommersby walking down the corridor toward them.  "It's time for
tea, Colonel," she said quietly.  Alec nodded, and the three of
them walked to the kitchen.  There, the conversation continued
with many pauses as Alec told his wife what he had learned from
the Prince.  "Then," she said after another long pause, "then the
Great War ... it was all for nothing, wasn't it?"
     "It most certainly was NOT, Mrs. Sommersby!  Duty, defense
of the realm, never for nothing!"
     "But what's to become of the boy?"
     "The 'boy' is heir to the throne of Mobius, and starting
tomorrow he'll be learning just what that means."
     Elias looked at the two old Mobians discussing his fate as
if he wasn't even sitting at the same table with them.  "Some
things don't change," he thought to himself.

                       *        *        *

     Several days later, Elias sat back in his chair at the
kitchen table.  He was already tired of the new arrangement.
     The Colonel had decided that Elias desperately needed to be
educated in Mobian history and government.  He had pulled
together as many books on the subject as he could find in the
compound.  He was not, however, the best teacher for that subject
or any other one.  He gave Elias his assignments and expected
them to be carried out.  His wife tried a few times to intercede
for Elias, noting that Elias was still just a boy and not a raw
recruit to be ordered about on a parade ground.  The Colonel
would mutter something as if he understood what she was saying,
but he seemed incapable of altering his military manner.  After
two days, Mrs. Sommersby simply gave up.
     Now Elias's day had become routine.  He was awoken at a set
time and was expected to be at the breakfast table at a set time. 
Then there were set times for lessons in the morning and
afternoon.  It was worse after supper, for the Colonel seemed at
a loss to think of anything for Elias to do.  Wandering the
compound had gotten very old very fast.
     For Elias, it felt like more of the same.
     When he had left Haven after having been sworn to secrecy
about the place, it was with no regrets.  It had been the only
life he had known, the only life he could remember clearly, but
from his earliest memories he had hated living there.  True, he
had been fed and clothed and cared for by the echidnas living
there, but there was something unsettling as to HOW they went
about it.
     His days in Haven began when the overhead light in his
windowless room was switched on.  Squinting, he would look around
the room with its bare metal walls.  As usual, there was nobody
in there with him.
     Before Elias had learned how to dress himself, one of the
echidnas would help him.  His name was Sojourner, and he was
practically the only echidna who had anything to do with him. 
Elias remembered being fascinated by the odd metal plate that
seemed to be permanently attached to his forehead.  But for the
first few years, that didn't matter.  It was enough that there
was someone among the echidnas, who referred to themselves as The
Brotherhood, who was willing to listen to him if he felt like
talking about anything.  And Sojourner was also the only one
willing to engage the child in conversation.
     That all changed as Elias got older.  With each new task he
learned, the members of the Brotherhood put more distance between
themselves and the boy.  Finally, it got to the point where it
seemed that they were actually avoiding contact with Elias as far
as they possibly could.  Aside from their attempts at schooling
him they seemed to expect him to feed and clothe himself.  There
were days when the only time Elias saw any of the echidnas was
when he'd happen to look up and catch a glimpse of one of them
watching him through a heavy glass window.
     In some ways, that suited Elias just fine.  He had always
been more than a little frightened by some of them: Tobor with
his eyes permanently hidden behind his visor, Spectre with his
red eyes glowing in the shadow of his helmet, Sabre who only
seemed to know how to scowl from behind his monocle.  On the
other hand, Elias had never been intimidated by Thunderhawk's
appearance, because there was something silly about the way he
looked; it was as if he had become stuck halfway while turning
from an echidna into some kind of bird.
     The one member of the Brotherhood he couldn't figure out was
Locke.  Locke was the youngest of the group, or so Sojourner had
once told him, but he still looked prematurely old.  And he, too,
left the young prince alone more often than not.  Yet there were
times when he'd catch a glimpse of Locke staring at him in a way
that the others never did.  There was something sad and hungry
about the look in Locke's eyes.  That was the only way Elias
could describe it to himself.  He sensed that there was a part of
Locke that wanted to be a friend, at the very least, but there
was another part always pulling him away from the boy.  It seemed
to Elias that Locke was like someone caught between two doors,
unable to move forward and unable to move back.
     Soon enough, the only time Elias saw any of the echidnas was
when he had to take his lessons.  They were hard enough, and
seemed to have been planned with a much more intelligent pupil in
mind.  On more than one occasion Elias or one of the other
members of the Brotherhood acting as his teacher would give up in
frustration.  And when the lessons, which were mostly about
science, were finally learned, newer and harder subjects were
introduced and the maddening process started all over again. 
Nobody seemed to enjoy any of it.
     Elias only felt at ease was when he was alone in his room
reading his books.  Sojourner had given some books to the boy. 
They were old books, with dry paper that snapped when the corner
was bent.  Some had pictures, but most didn't.  That didn't
matter, because Elias could see what was happening in the books
clearly enough, in his imagination.  The books must have belonged
to Sojourner, for they were almost all about traveling to distant
places, to other lands and even other worlds.  Sometimes they
would be about Mobians, which Elias had been taught was where he
had come from.
     At the moment, Elias wished that he had one of those old
books as he sat alone in the kitchen, deciding that he could
never learn all the names of all the kings and queens of Mobius
as the Colonel had expected.  He had read for two hours, and the
only thing that had happened was that the words on the pages of
the books had become meaningless blots of ink on paper.  Maybe it
was fatigue, maybe it was the overcast weather outside, but Elias
rubbed his eyes and just wanted to give up.
     Nobody else was in the kitchen with him.  Mrs. Sommersby was
in the King's Parlor, cleaning the chandeliers.  That job took
hours.  Elias could hear the metallic echo of Colonel Sommersby's
voice as it came through the ventilation system.  He was
muttering to himself as he worked on the boiler, and Elias
guessed that that would take all day as well.
     Worn out from his reading, he walked out of the kitchen and
headed for the Royal Bedroom.  As he slowly walked down the
hallway, he passed some of the doors, giving each one a half-
hearted pounding with his fist.  The doors stoutly resisted his
attempt at an assault.
     Except for one door, which moved.
     Elias looked around, then at the door.  He realized, with a
start, that this was the door to the room that Colonel Sommersby
had passed by without explanation on his first day.  He had tried
that door several times since then, but it hadn't budged.
     Until now.
     Elias quickly looked up and down the broad hallway.  He
pushed against the door, very slightly.  It moved inward very
slightly.  He bit his lower lip.  He might not ever get another
chance.  He pushed at the door.  It opened and he quickly slipped
inside, closing the door behind him.
     It took a few moments for Elias to adjust to the darkness of
the room.  He didn't dare turn on a light or open the shade that
almost completely covered the window.  He'd be found out for
sure.  He looked around.
     What he saw in the gloom was what appeared to be a bedroom. 
The furniture was simple enough: a bed, a chest of drawers, a
night stand, a chair and desk by the window.  Yet there were
other shapes as well, shapes of things on top of the chest and
the desk, as well as on the wall.
     He stood still, letting his eyes adjust to the little bit of
light that filtered in through the closed shade.  After many
seconds he had to admit that it simply wasn't enough to make
things out in the room clearly, though he could read their shapes
well enough.  He started looking around.
     The walls were crowded with what appeared to be pictures,
some in frames behind glass and some apparently tacked up.  Yet
these squares and rectangles weren't all.  Elias's attention was
riveted by something close by.  It was long, slender, and hung
horizontally on the wall.  Even in the dim light, Elias knew that
it was a sword.
     There were plenty of swords on display in the King's Parlor:
swords with sheaths of finely detailed metalwork and with
elaborate handles, sabers with baskets of intertwining strands of
metal that looked like a nest of snakes, large naked swords so
big they must have needed two hands to wield them.  All were kept
free of dust by Mrs. Sommersby, all seemed to have some kind of
history, and all were mounted just out of Elias's reach.  The
Colonel had told him, when he had first been shown the Parlor,
that the swords and other weapons of Mobius's ancient history,
were not to be touched.
     But this sword, which appeared to have a kind of ceremonial
sash attached to the sheath, was only just out of his reach,
hanging on the wall near the dresser.  One step over and he could
touch it, perhaps lift it, hold it, take hold of the handle and
ease it out of its sheath...
     The temptation was too great.  Elias moved a step closed to
the wall, to the prize.  But just as he did so, there was a sound
like a bell ringing sharply and something brushed the tip of his
left ear.
     Startled in mid-step, Elias lost his balance and fell to the
floor in a heap.  It felt to him that he'd made enough noise to
give his position away even to the Brotherhood.  Holding his
breath and feeling his heart beating madly, he paused.
     The bell-like sound, he then realized, was now followed by
the sound of the Colonel muttering, a sound both amplified and
muffled.  He'd apparently dropped some tool and the noise had
been carried by the ventilation system.  Looking up, Elias saw
something swinging above his head.  From the outline it looked
like the underside of an old hover unit, only much smaller.  It
was only a model, suspended from the ceiling on slender strings.
     Still fearful of being discovered, Elias slowly got to his
feet.  He straightened out the oval throw rug on which he had
landed as best he could in the dark.  Then he turned the handle
and opened the door a crack.  It made no sound as it opened. 
Taking a chance, he looked out into the hallway.  
     It was empty.
     He quickly stepped out of the room, closing the door behind
him with as little noise as possible.  Then, his heart still
pounding, he started walking down the hall, away from the kitchen
where he could hear Mrs. Sommersby working, and toward the Royal
Bedroom.
     Elias tried to regulate his breathing, but he found it
difficult.  He was being pulled by two strong feelings he wasn't
used to: exhilaration and anger.
     Up until now, his life at the Compound had been ordered,
routine, and dull.  The Colonel seemed to prefer things that way. 
Now, having entered the forbidden room and made it out again,
Elias could feel a kind of energy roll through his insides like a
wave.  He had transgressed, he had risked discovery, he had
braved unknown consequences, and now he imagined that this is
what it must feel like when one has climbed a high mountain and
can see the whole world below and only sky above.
     Yet at the same time he found himself wrestling with anger. 
It was anger directed not at the Sommersbys but at himself.
     The locked room was no longer just a room.  It was a
mystery, one that demanded a solution.  Yet even as he had
carefully closed the door and heard the satisfying click of the
latch, Elias hated himself for having left in fear, the room's
mysteries unsolved.
     Throwing himself down on his bed, he tried to sort out what
he'd seen.  It wasn't much.  He knew that the bed was large
enough for a grown-up, though it was nowhere near as large as the
one in the Royal Bedroom.  The chest of drawers was full-size as
well, but he remembered that the desk was smaller, almost a
perfect fit for himself.  And the model that had brushed against
his ear was hung too low for that to be the room of a grown-up. 
It was hung to accommodate someone his own size.  Another boy. 
But what would a boy do with a grown-up's sword?
     These facts and questions swarmed through Elias's head as he
lay there, not able to make sense of them.  He tried dismissing
these fly-like concerns as he heard Mrs. Sommersby's footsteps
coming down the hall.  His questions would have to wait.
     As it turned out, the questions continued to plague him
through dinner, which really didn't matter; the Sommersbys didn't
communicate between themselves that evening, which was normal,
and Mrs. Sommersby's attempt to draw out of Elias an account of
how he'd spent his afternoon was soon abandoned in the face of
his resistance.
     What could he tell her: that he'd managed to enter the
forbidden room and that even after being in there in the dark for
a couple of minutes its mysteries were nagging at him so much
that they were tearing holes in his heart?  The two old people 
barely seemed to acknowledge the room's existence.  Reluctantly,
as he pushed a small amount of food back and forth across his
plate with his fork, Elias had to concede that he had lost his
chance for the day.  He could only hope that he would get another
chance, and he hoped that it would be soon.

                       *        *        *

     It continued raining for the next two days.  It was a
steady, depressing rain where the sky was a uniform shade of
gray.  That meant there's be no let-up for some time.  And,
typically on such days, those dwelling in the Royal Compound
began to get on each other's nerves.
     Of course the Colonel wasn't about to let anything like a
steady rain prevent him from taking his morning constitutional. 
Mrs. Sommersby would make a fuss about his going out in such
weather, even though Elias knew she could do nothing to prevent
him.  But on that second day, instead of only half-hearing his
wife berate him for going out and risking pneumonia because of
"some silly habit," he turned round to face her.  "I am NOT ...."
he began to shout in a voice that alarmed both Elias and Mrs.
Sommersby, before he collected himself, opened the kitchen door
and stormed out of the house in a bad temper.
     Mrs. Sommersby suggested that Elias do his studies in the
King's Parlor that day.  Elias was in no mood to argue.  He went
to the Royal Bedroom to collect the books he had left there the
night before.
     As he walk, he paused in front of the room.  Looking back
over his shoulder toward the kitchen, he could hear the clatter
of dishes in the sink as Mrs. Sommersby washed them.  He
wondered.
     No.  Mrs. Sommersby did her morning housekeeping in the
rooms in this corridor.  Besides, what if he were in the room
when the Colonel came back from his walk?  Their own bedroom was
just next door.  Better to wait until afternoon.
     Elias spent the morning fighting to stay awake as he read
one of the books the Colonel had taken from the King's Parlor. 
It was a very scholarly work about the socio-political factors
which had led up to the Great War.  The words washed over Elias
like waves trying to drown him.  He tried to follow what was
written but knew before the end of the first chapter that it was
hopeless.  So he settled in and just flipped through the pages,
looking for places where the Colonel would have made notes in the
margin.  There were quite a few of these.  Next to one paragraph
the Colonel had written the words "Utter rot!"  Well, Elias
thought, at least SOMEBODY wasn't bored to tears by reading this!
     At lunch, Mrs. Sommersby made more of a fuss than usual over
the Colonel.  She was convinced that the way he cleared his
throat at the table several times was the sign of an oncoming
cold.  The Colonel refused to believe her.  Neither did Elias; he
hadn't known the Colonel to be sick in all the time since his
arrival at the compound, but he didn't say anything about it.
     After lunch, the Colonel announced his intention to "take
care of a few matters" in the King's Parlor that afternoon. 
Elias knew what that meant: the Colonel would end up napping on
one of the ornate sofas in that room.
     Retreating to his bedroom, Elias waited.  He looked through
the Colonel's marginal notes in the Great War book again, then
setting it down on an end table next to the bed he slipped out
into the hallway and headed toward the room next to the
Sommersby's.  Putting his hand on the doorknob, he pushed
slightly.
     Elias caught his breath as the door started to move.  It was
open again.
     Pulling the door back slightly, not enough that it would
lock again, Elias walked toward the East Wing which led to the
King's Parlor.  It was a strain because as much as he wanted to
run he didn't want to give anything away in case the Colonel saw
him.
     He didn't have to worry.  Halfway down the corridor he could
hear the Colonel's snoring coming from the Parlor.  
     Turning back and again walking instead of running, he
reached the door.  He took a deep breath, opened the door,
slipped inside and closed it again.
     This time Elias knew better than to try and move about the
room before his eyes had had a chance to adjust.  They were the
same shadows he had remembered from last time, the same pieces of
furniture.
     After a minute, he felt confident enough to move about and
take stock of his surroundings.  The bed was made so well it
appeared as if it had never been slept in.  The dresser and desk
were simple, wooden pieces if furniture , whereas the furniture
he had seen in the other rooms of the compound was gaudy and
large enough to be used by an entire family.
     As much as he wanted to try taking down the sword again, he
resisted the urge.  It was just too risky.  Instead, he gingerly
walked around the bed to face what appeared to be the door to a
closet.  He carefully opened it.
     Nothing fell out on top of him.  Just in front of him was an
unusual row of footwear -- three pairs, all of different sizes. 
The first pair was no larger than those that might fit on a baby,
while a pair of dress boots polished to a high shine stood at the
other end.  In the center was a pair of extremely-worn sneakers,
so bad that they appeared ready to fall apart.  All faced toes-
forward toward Elias.
     Of all the shoes in the line he was most drawn to the
sneakers.  He picked one up to look at in the diffused light
coming into the room.  On the back of one of them, someone had
written the name "JACK" in block letters.
     "Is this Jack's room?" Elias wondered as he replaced the
shoes.  "And who IS Jack, anyway?"  Closing the closet door, he
looked around.  He then noticed a large book of some sort on top
of the dresser.  The cover was large and square.  There were no
words on it of any kind.  Elias didn't know why this should
interest him, but it did.  Carefully picking it up, he took it
over to the desk by the window, where he was closer to some kind
of light.  Carefully moving the chair so that it wouldn't make
any noise, he sat down and opened the book.
     Elias discovered that it wasn't an ordinary book.  It was an
album.  The first page was taken up by two items.  One was an
official-looking certificate documenting the birth of someone
named Clive Alexander Sommersby, son of Alec and Martha
Sommersby.  The other was a picture of a young bulldog couple, a
pretty woman with dark hair and a rather dashing young man
wearing a military uniform.  They were looking with happiness and
pride at something small, wrapped in blankets which the woman
held in her arms: a baby.
     "That has to be Clive," Elias thought.  "And are those the
Sommersbys?"  He couldn't bring himself to believe that the old,
careworn couple looking after the Royal Compound had ever been so
young, so alive, so ... happy!
     The subject of birth and babies was an especially
uncomfortable one back in Haven.  Elias recalled asking the age-
old question of where babies came from several times of the
various members of the Brotherhood.  None of them were very
helpful; the most they would do would be to direct him to access
some data file or other on the subject.  And on more than one
occasion the question resulted in his being hustled into his
bedroom while some or all of the Brotherhood would argue about
something for several hours at a time, and there would still be
such bad feelings between them in the morning that Elias thought
it better not to talk to any of them.
     But Elias sensed none of this as he looked at the picture of
the young Sommersby's.  He turned the page.
     The next few pages were devoted to pictures of the infant
Clive, only after the second page the captions that were hand-
written next to or below each picture referred to him as "Jack." 
A note in the Colonel's handwriting appeared next to one picture:
"Can't see him being called 'Clive' all his life.  Wouldn't be
merciful."
     Elias didn't quite understand what it meant, but at least
one mystery was solved: "Jack" was what the Sommersbys called
their son.  "Good thing, too," Elias thought, "Who'd want to go
through life with a name like 'Clive'?"
     He turned the pages, and watched as Jack went through the
usual stages of development.  Elias had learned something about
this from the data files in Haven, but like everything else he'd
learned about it as if the subject were at arm's length or behind
one of Haven's panes of glass.  Now there was an actual person
whose life he was following.  It seemed different, and not at all
boring.
     By Jack's third birthday, Elias could see some subtle
changes in the Sommersbys.  The Colonel appeared to be rising
through the ranks; the uniforms he wore now were fancier than
they had been.  Still, there was always something young and
vibrant in that bulldog face of his, something that came out
especially when he was with Jack.
     Elias turned the page, then stopped.  One page was taken up
by a drawing done in crayon and taped in place.  It was a wild,
childish splash of color and indistinct figures that could be
trees or people or flowers or anything.  And across the bottom,
printed in a way that gave the impression of practice rather than
proficiency, were the words: "I LOVE YOU, NANA."

                       *        *        *

     It was one more day in Haven.  Elias must have been about 4
years old or so, he couldn't remember clearly.  What he could
remember was his being seated at a console and looking through a
graphics data file, pressing the button that advanced one visual
image after another.  He could also remember that Tobor was in
the room with him, looking from a handheld device of some kind to
some displays on the wall and paying as little attention to Elias
as possible.
     "Who are they?" Elias asked.
     Tobor didn't even look in his direction.  "What does it look
like?"
     "Uh ... two streaking pashas?"
     "That's probably what it is, then."
     "But is that one the mommy and the other one the baby?"
     Tobor glanced at the screen.  It was hard to tell whether he
saw anything through his goggles.  "Maybe."
     There was silence.  Then, "Do I have a mommy?"
     "Of course you do, you little ...."  He could have gone on,
but stopped, hoping Elias would do the same.
     "Is she here?"
     "Who?"
     "My mommy!"
     "In a manner of speaking."
     "Can I see her?"
     "No."
     "I want to see her!"
     "I said 'No'!"
     "WHERE'S MY MOMMY?"
     By now the two of them were shouting at each other.  But
Tobor's reply to this statement was to walk over to Elias, seize
him by one ear, practically drag him out of his seat, and lead
him down the hall while he cried out from the pain.  They stopped
in front of a large door to a room Elias had never been to
before.  Tobor opened the door.  He then more or less shoved
Elias inside so that he bounced off something in front of him,
something large and glowing green, then fell to the floor.
     "There's your mother, boy!"  Tobor didn't say the words so
much as he spat them out.  Then he closed the door.
     In front of Elias was a large clear pipe or tube.  He
couldn't tell what it was exactly because there was no real light
in the room.  A greenish light, however, shone from the top and
bottom, illuminating the fluid inside.
     And there was something else inside as well.  It was a
person, with long hair moving in the liquid and with eyes closed,
the kind of eyes that suggested not sleep so much as a kind of
death.  Elias looked at what was in front of him for a second. 
In his mind, he knew exactly what he was seeing.
     "MOMMY!!"
     Elias leaped up and, tears streaming down his face, began
beating on the side of the tube as if to smash it and release its
contents.  How long he pounded on the tube between sobs he didn't
know.  It seemed like an eternity, and yet there was no movement
inside the tube, no sign of life.
     Elias was only dimly aware of Sojourner entering the room,
taking hold of Elias's upper arms, and carrying him out while he
thrashed and kicked and screamed and cried.  He was more or less
dumped back in his room where he pounded against the closed door
until, exhausted and whimpering like a cub, he fell asleep on the
floor.
     The next day Thunderhawk came into his room and spoke with
Elias.  Elias didn't listen to what was said, however, for his
heart was far away in a dark place.  He could only sit and let
Thunderhawk's words wash over him like a cold surf that would
drown him.  He just sat there, and he was still sitting there as
somewhere nearby the Brotherhood had the worst argument he had
ever heard from them.  It was so bad that Elias didn't even
realize he was hungry until late the following day.
     This was the memory that had washed over Elias as he looked
at the crayon scrawl in front of him.  Because as crude as it
was, it was still a message from one heart to another.  Jack had
drawn something to tell "Nana" that he loved her, as Elias wished
hard that he could tell his mother that he loved her.  And even
though he eventually came to understand his mother's condition
and her being in suspended animation, the longing in his heart
had never gone away.  And it still hurt terribly.
     Elias wanted very much to cry at that moment, but he knew
that if he did the Colonel or Mrs. Sommersby would hear.  He took
a minute to quiet his breathing and dry his eyes on his jacket
sleeve, then went back to looking at the album.
     Across the page from the drawing was a single picture of
Jack on the lap of an elderly woman.  Her wrinkled bulldog
expression was dour but Elias thought her eyes were kind. 
Underneath, in Mrs. Sommersby's handwriting, were the words:
"Nana's last visit," followed by a date.  Elias had a sinking
feeling that he knew what "Nana's last visit" meant.
     The next few pages were less somber.  There were many
pictures of Jack outside in all weather: sun, rain, snow.  He was
almost always active, practically a blur in some pictures.  Elias
started to envy Jack's freedom to be under the sun and outside, a
pleasure the Brotherhood never allowed him.  Most of the writing
on these pages were the names of places: "Foxborough Park" was a
name that was written more than once, as was "Clovis Garden." 
There was also a picture of Jack and the Colonel standing near
the edge of a cliff, with a spectacular canyon just in the
background that seemed nearly bottomless.  Under this picture the
Colonel had written: "Mother hated taking this picture; her fear
of falling."
     Elias paused.  Mrs. Sommersby was afraid of heights?  He'd
never known that.  Then again, the Compound only had one storey.
     Jack's school years followed.  There was a picture of him in
a uniform of some kind; he looked miserable wearing it.  Other
pictures showed him in more normal clothes; Elias guessed that
these were taken after school.  In one of them, Jack was
positively beaming as he stood surrounded by a half-dozen other
boys.  Jack's left leg, from his hip to his ankle, was in a huge
cast of some kind, covered with writing.  There was no indication
as to what had happened, only the Colonel's cryptic caption: "At
least Jack now knows who his real friends are."
     It continued on, page after page, year after year, Elias
hungrily following Jack's life as it unfolded.  All too soon he
was older than Elias, a teenager.  He was starting to look
handsome in a bulldog sort of way.  Much of what Elias saw he
didn't quite understand.  One picture in particular caught his
attention: Jack smiling broadly, standing next to a very pretty
girl about the same age.  But there appeared to be something
wrong with the picture itself.  At first Elias thought it was a
trick of the light.  Then he realized that the picture had been
crumpled up, then smoothed out again to be pasted in the album. 
Again, the only clue to what it meant was written by the Colonel:
"Seems Mother was right about that girl all along."
     Now Jack was finished with school and was pictured wearing
the uniform of a cadet, much like the one he had seen in one of
the books in the King's library.  It seemed to Elias that Jack
didn't smile as broadly in that photo as he had in others.  There
was a look in his eyes, a look of fear.  The pictures on the
facing page were again taken out of doors, and were all of Jack
with his father.  They were together yet alone, and they appeared
to be talking, seemingly unaware of whoever was taking the
pictures.  Elias ached to know what was passing between them.  It
looked serious.
     All too soon, he came across a picture of the Colonel and
Jack, who according to the caption handwritten by the Colonel 
had just graduated from the Royal Military Academy.  Jack was
holding a rolled-up piece of paper in one hand, and the sword
Elias had seen on the wall hung at his side.  He looked so much
like the Colonel had when he was younger that Elias could hardly
believe it.  The two stood shoulder to shoulder, both beaming
with pride and happiness.  Elias turned the page.
     The page was blank.
     He turned the page again.  It was also blank.  He turned a
few more pages.
     He stopped when he saw the envelope.  On every other page
the pictures and drawing and mementoes had been arranged
carefully, almost artistically.  This envelope, however, had
simply been tossed between two blank pages as if to be forgotten.
     Elias carefully opened the flap on the envelope and took out
the letter inside.  The paper was heavy and gray.  The seal on
the letterhead meant that it was from some place important. 
Elias read the words which began with "It is with deep regret
that we must inform you...."
     "You found it."
     With a start, Elias turned around.  He had been sitting all
this time with his back to the door, and had become so engrossed
with the contents of the album that he hadn't heard Mrs.
Sommersby open the door.  She was standing in the doorway, her
face showing not disapproval but sadness.
     "You found his gray letter," she said as she closed the door
behind her, crossed to Elias, gently took the letter out of his
hands, folded it, and put it back in the envelope.  "I don't know
when they began sending these letters on gray stationery.  The
Colonel might know.  It's some sort of tradition."  She was
speaking quietly, but not speaking to Elias, or even to herself. 
It seemed to Elias that she was talking simply to avoid the
silence.  "Military men do love their traditions."
     She inserted the envelope between the two blank pages open
before Elias and closed the album.  Elias expected her to put it
back on the dresser.  Instead, she sat down on the edge of the
bed, holding the album flat on her lap.  She looked ahead, at
nothing in particular.
     A hundred questions raced through Elias's mind, but all he
could think to ask was something he regretted almost immediately:
"Did he die in the Great War?"
     "No, Your Highness," she said softly.  There was a pattering
sound.  Only now was Elias aware that it had started raining
again.  "He never saw action in the War.  He died in the Great
Forest.
     "After receiving his commission, he was assigned to a
platoon.  They went out on night maneuvers shortly after he
arrived.  Jack was the junior officer; he took his orders from a
captain.
     "The captain ordered them to ford the Great River in the
dark of night, as part of a training exercise.  They were all
wearing full pack.  One of the men in the platoon wrote to us
later and said that Jack and some of the others had their doubts
about the order.  The captain replied that he'd forded the river
himself a mile above that point and that the current was not
swift nor the river deep.  There was still some reluctance, but
in the end the obeyed the order, with the captain leading the
way.
     "When they were about halfway across, Jack, the captain, and
two other platoon-members disappeared under the water.  Seems the
captain didn't know that a stream that joined the Great River
below where he had forded made it swifter and deeper than he had
thought.  According to the letter, Jack managed to get the
captain to shore, then he took off his field gear and went after
his platoon mates.  He rescued one other before ... He was found
an hour later, his ankle caught tight in the roots of a submerged
tree.  It was ruled to be an accident."
     Elias had been looking at Mrs. Sommersby as she told the
story.  Halfway through, he lowered his gaze, unable to keep
watching her.  Now, in the long silence that followed her story,
he looked up as he heard a tap of come kind.  Looking around, he
couldn't tell where it had come from.
     Then there was another tap.  He looked in Mrs. Sommersby's
direction.  She was still sitting on the edge of the bed, upright
and proper.  Then Elias realized that her lip was trembling, and
he watched a third tear run down her face and fall onto the cover
of the album where it made a soft tapping sound.  Mrs. Sommersby
took a deep breath and tried to sound as if she were making
conversation, but her voice still came out trembling and broken:
"It was all rather pointless, actually."
     Mrs. Sommersby then stood up.  Using the apron she was
wearing, she dried the cover of the album.  Not her eyes, Elias
noted; she didn't dry her eyes.  She then put it back on the
dresser, opened the door to the room, and Elias slipped out into
the hallway with Mrs. Sommersby following him and locking the
door.
     "I must start fixing supper," she said, again talking
neither to Elias nor to herself.  "I ... I don't even know what
to prepare ... something with onions, I should think ... so I
won't have to explain these eyes to the Colonel...."
     Her voice started to break, and she turned and walked back
toward the kitchen.  Elias watched as the door closed behind her. 
Then he wandered into the Royal Bedroom and slumped into a window
seat.  Leaning his head against a pane of glass, he watched
raindrops explode and chase each other down the outside.
     It all made sense now   terrible, sad sense.  It wasn't just
duty that kept these old people here.  It was pain, the pain of
losing their son, their only son since there were no brothers or
sisters to be seen in the album.  And while they had said nothing
to Elias about their son, yet they kept a room for him, almost a
shrine, for a son who would never return.  They were on the
Floating Island instead of Mobius because they had fled to this
place, running from their pain, yet they had taken it with them.
     Elias also understood the Colonel's discomfort whenever he
was around.  He wondered how much his presence reminded the
Colonel of his son; it certainly explained why he didn't seem
interested in spending any more time with Elias than necessary,
and why he insisted on treating the boy so formally.  Elias had
grown to hate that, and he wanted it to change.
     But how?
     That evening, Mrs. Sommersby said nothing about Elias being
in Jack's room.  Elias, in fact, had told Mrs. Sommersby, about
an hour after she had let him out of Jack's room and locked it
again, that he wasn't hungry and was going to bed early.  Aside
from the Colonel expressing a formal interest in Elias's health,
as well as commenting that Mrs. Sommersby had been too liberal by
half with her use of onions in that evening's meal, he said
nothing.
     The following morning dawned clear and slightly cool.  When
the Colonel came into the kitchen for breakfast, he saw that
there was no place set for Elias.  "Is His Highness still sick?"
     "No, Alec.  In fact, he insisted on having breakfast
earlier, before you woke up.  And after breakfast he left the
table and didn't tell me where he was going."
     "I can't say I approve of that," the Colonel said, with his
mouth full of toast.  "Better that things be done in order."  He
didn't speak again until he'd finished eating, risen from the
table and, with his stick in hand, started to open the door to
the outside: "I shan't be long, Mrs. Sommersby."
     Mrs. Sommersby, standing at the sink, waited for the door to
close.  And waited.  It didn't happen.
     Turning, she saw Alec standing just outside the door.  And
standing a few feet from him, in about the same place as the day
he arrived, was Prince Elias.
     "Your Highness?" the Colonel asked.
     "I'd like to accompany you on your walk, Colonel.  If I
may," he added quickly as he saw the Colonel's brow furrow.
     The Colonel was at a loss for words for a few seconds, then
squared his shoulders.  "I shan't slacken my pace for your
benefit," he said gruffly.
     "I wouldn't expect you to, Colonel."
     With that, the Colonel strode off at a quick march, with
Elias doing his best to keep up.  Martha could only shake her
head as she saw them walk off, then she closed the door and
returned to the sink.
     The Colonel returned to the house a few minutes ahead of his
usual time, with Elias panting heavily but still not far behind
him.  At the end of the path, the Colonel stopped and leaned
forward with his hands on his knees, breathing deeply.  When he
had sufficiently recovered, he walked back into the Compound
without a word to Elias.
     This kept up for three more days.  Elias thought that the
Colonel wasn't just running away from him; he was, in fact,
seeing what Elias was made of.  And Elias was determined to show
him.
     As it turned out, it was the fifth day that found the
Colonel and Elias returning at the Colonel's usual time.  This
time, they walked side by side.  When Mrs. Sommersby asked her
husband if anything had happened on their walk, he said nothing. 
Elias simply explained: "We talked."

                       *        *        *

     "Did you mean for me to go in?" Elias asked Mrs. Sommersby
one morning several weeks later as he sat at the kitchen table
finishing his homework.
     "I knew you'd want to find out what was in there. I suppose
all boys are as curious as ... as Jack was when he was your age."
     "Who was 'Nana'?"
     "My mother, Jack's grandmother."
     "Was that her name?"
     "No.  It's just what he called her."
     "Oh."  Then he closed the book in front of him.  "Mrs.
Sommersby, may I call you Nana?"
     Martha was startled by the question.  Her eyes widened and
she put one hand to her chest as if she had a pain in her heart. 
Then, a few seconds later, she managed a smile.  "I think I'd
like that, Your Highness."
     There was no question of his being as familiar with the
Colonel.  Elias was careful to refer to Mrs. Sommersby as "Nana"
only when the Colonel was out of the room.  He would have to find
another way to get past the Colonel's stiff propriety.  Then came
the day the Colonel decided to deal with the flagpole.
     One morning after returning from his walk and changing
clothes, the Colonel appeared with a shovel in one hand and a saw
in the other.  He announced to Martha and Elias that he was going
to attempt to repair and reset the flagpole, which had stood in
front of the Compound until a powerful wind had blown it down,
snapping it at the base.
     "Colonel," Martha protested, "that's too much of a job for
just one."
     "Doesn't matter.  The thing has to be done, and better
sooner than later."
     "I'm helping you!" Elias announced as he stepped toward the
Colonel.
     "Out of the question, Your Highness.  Work of this kind...."
     "I'm helping you," he repeated, in a tone of voice that said
he was in no mood to hear anything else on the subject.
     "Unheard of!" the Colonel muttered, "an heir to the throne
of Mobius doing ... but I suppose it couldn't hurt you to watch
and learn."
     Elias was prepared to do far more than just watch and learn. 
When it became clear that the Colonel was nearing the end of his
strength, Elias simply stepped in and took over, whether it was
digging a hole for the pole's new foundation, mixing the cement
to hold the pole in place, or sawing off the old pole above the
break.  The job took two days, plus another day of letting the
cement cure before the two together, with far more effort than
they'd expected, sank the pole in its place.  No sooner had they
done so than Elias dashed indoors, emerging a minute later with
both the blue-and-gold flag of Mobius, plus the green and gold
Banner of Residency.  The Colonel, who'd stripped to the waist
and was panting heavily from the exertion, found renewed energy
as he attached the flags to the rope and raised them.  A breeze
caught them and sat them waving.  It was a gratifying moment for
Elias, made even more gratifying when he felt the Colonel place
his hand on the boy's shoulder.  "Well done, lad," he said
quietly, "well done."
     In the months that followed, the feeling of the compound
changed gradually.  The Colonel could be as formal as ever, but
Elias had come to accept it as "his way."  But the Colonel wasn't
always mirthless and serious.  Especially around the kitchen
table, he could be loquacious and light-hearted, as the kitchen
became a place not just for eating but for conversation and even
laughter.
     The three of them were, in their own way, turning into a
family.  There was only one thing needed, Martha told herself,
for that to truly come to pass.
     It happened one Spring morning as Elias and the Colonel
finished breakfast and prepared to take their morning walk. 
Elias kissed Mrs. Sommersby on the cheek, something which the
Colonel had slowly but eventually accepted, and the Colonel
called out to his wife, "We shan't be long, Mother."  Then they
were out the door.
     Mrs. Sommersby paused.  Alec probably wasn't even aware he'd
said it, she told herself.  But it had been a life time, Jack's
lifetime, since he had called her by that name...
     That's enough, she thought to herself.  The dishes still
need doing.  Then perhaps she'd think about lunch.  Something
special, but with not quite as many onions as last time.

                             THE END

PAUSE FOR BOURGEOIS LEGALITIES: This story is copyright 2002 by
Daniel J. Drazen, based on characters and situations created by
Ken Penders for Archie Comic Publications' "Knuckles the Echidna"
comic.  Rabid distribution is freely encouraged so long as you
don't try passing it off as your own.  If you try to make a buck
off of it, you're going to be violating Title 17 of the U.S. Code
concerning copyrights.  A portion of this story was inspired by
the song "Waist Deep In The Big Muddy" by Pete Seeger.