Secrets of Fathers and Empires
Rycliff
Secrets of Fathers and Empires
By
Matthew Hallam
Copyright 2010
Contents
Secrets of Fathers and Empires
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
EPILOGUE
Prologue
July 13, 2002
“Jebidiah, please be reasonable.” Very few people know J. Edwin Whitten's first name and even fewer people can address him by it. Harrison Clayton is one of these privileged few. He and Edwin’s friendship started in their college days, way back in the '70s.
They attended the University of Texas together. After graduation, Edwin went into banking. He soon grew bored and came to hate working at his father's bank. So, he decided to strike out on his own. He now owns his own successful company and is considered moderately wealthy by most standards.
Harry studied him, at a little over six feet tall and 225 pounds Jeb is not an individual who intimidates easily. His piercing blue eyes give the impression that they can look straight into the inner depths of anyone he chooses to stare at. Harry had always thought Jeb could be a very successful lawyer. Whitten’s jet-black hair has started to show traces of silver starting at the temples and hinted at a receding hairline. His forehead is developing a furrowed look, but overall, not bad looking for someone who had recently turned forty-nine
Harry, as his friends called him, became a lawyer. He started in a big downtown law firm in Houston, as an associate. After about ten years in the practice of law, he was still a junior partner and moving more slowly up the career ladder then he had hoped. He decided that maybe politics was where he could achieve his goal of success. In his first bid at a political career, he ran for a minor seat on the Texas House of Representatives; He failed at winning a seat in the statehouse of representatives for two consecutive elections. Next, he ran for county judge and then-attorney general and lost both times.
In his first bid at a political career, his defeat came by his inexperience; he debated, with a polished incumbent. As a result, he came across as an uninformed and rather dull individual. The debate came back to haunt him in the second attempt, although this time it was because he refused to debate the other candidate. The voters thought of him as aloof and not informed on the issues. Once again, he lost by an overwhelming majority.
He decided to go back to practicing law and started a firm with a much older lawyer than him, Mr. Raymond Robison. Mr. Robison became his mentor and took Harry under his wing. Together with Harry's enthusiasm and Raymond’s experience the firm prospered. Now with the retirement of Mr. Robison, the firm was Harry's and he was succeeding at expanding his caseload and expanding the firm, by hiring new associates and taking bigger cases.
Whitten finally answered. “I don't need to be reasonable. Just make the changes I've asked you to make for me.” He sat there in Harry's office looking at the dozens of photos and diplomas as well as various framed front-page articles hanging on the “glory wall”. He reflected on the change, in Harry’s surroundings, Harry had been what people nowadays call a disadvantaged youth, his parents died at an early age, and he was forced to move to Houston and live with his maternal grandparents. He did have one thing in his favor, he was quick to learn, and worked his pants off. He received a full scholarship for college, and he took full advantage of it.
“Jeb, as your lawyer and friend, I'm telling you that what you're proposing lacks planning, and in my opinion doesn't represent your best interests. How can you invest in a little no-name company like Lunar Development Corporation? They show a very modest earning potential and their goal to colonize the moon is extremely ambitious, impossible is more like it. The company will be bankrupt if it fails at colonizing the moon. Why do you think it's going public? It needs the cash. It is trying to keep the office furniture from repossession, as we speak. Why, are you willing to invest all the inheritance from your father on it?” Harrison asked.
“They will succeed. This public offering and the company's plan to market itself will work.” Stated, Mr. Whitten. “Besides LDC has been in business for a while already and isn’t going broke any time soon. As for the office furniture being carted away, I know that it will never happen. This dream to colonize the moon is what counts. Can you imagine the enormous profits that will be had when they achieve that goal?” Whitten declared.
“Still, I'd be remiss in my duty to you, if I didn't point out the fact that some of these changes are a bit rash. Changing your will so all of your personal fortune goes to the Fertility Foundation, the Adopt a Child of America Foundation, and The Run-away Hot Line for Teens, is a bit out of the ordinary. As is turning your home and land into an orphanage for wayward youths, people will think you have gone mad. And are you forgetting Blaire, your daughter, and only child? Don't you love her? Don't you want to provide some security for her in the event of your untimely demise?”
“Yes, of course, I love Blaire; I'll never stop loving her. I'm not giving her a red cent until she comes to her senses and forgets this Irish gold digger of hers.”
“Jeb, Ian appears to be a great gentleman, and he truly seems to love Blaire, I know Blaire really loves him. Besides, what would Maggie say about your behavior and the way you've been acting lately?”
“You let my wife's memory rest in peace!” Jeb interrupted, slamming his hand on the desk. Harry jumped at the noise.
“I'm sorry about that; I was only trying to get you to think about this some more. Come on, do you believe that's all he wants, is just her money?”
“I believe he just wants to get money, and this way there's no money for him to get. Now make those changes immediately.”
“All right I'll make the changes to the will, and I'll look into LDC for you.”
“Do more than look at it. Buy it. I should be able to buy one million shares of LDC.”
“Oh, and Harry, buy it by using dummy corporations and offshore accounts. The last thing I want is a bunch of lawyers snooping around from the SEC and the IRS. I want this to be legal, but I certainly do not want to end up listed as a major stockholder. It may be useful later on down the road to be in control of a ten- percent block with voting privileges. Take care of the details and I make sure that I double my usual bonus I pay you.”
“Oh boy! Double of nothing, I'll be as rich as you are in no time at all.”
“I'll wire the money to you at 8:00 AM sharp tomorrow, wise guy. You still on for dinner as usual?”
“Of course! It's your turn to buy.”
Whitten was in the study having his customary drink of the evening. He drank only one thing scotch and soda. From 6:00 pm. until 7:00 pm. was Whitten's quiet time. No one who knew him well interrupted it.
He used this time to relax from the stress caused by running a multi-million-dollar corporation. Whitten Avionics Inc. was very successful, less than twenty - five years in business and already it had sales in the five hundred-million-dollar range. It had profits last year of 150 million, and he had a personal net worth of 200 million. All from a small factory, he had bought from an ex-air Force sergeant, who was going broke slowly, selling aviation electronics.
He thought back to the time he decided to try to acquire the business. Edwin went to his fathers' bank for a loan. He tried to convince his father that all the company needed to be profitable was, better leadership and a more disciplined approach to business. He also tried convincing his father that he could turn the company around in a short amount of time. His father decided not to give him the loan.
“It's too risky and you'll lose your shirt trying to make a living at it” He replied. “Besides I'm ready to retire and turn the bank over to you. Why take a chance on something that will never amount to anything?”
“Father, we've discussed this, I don't want to take over the bank, and I haven't even worked with you for years. Besides, I have a bank job now and I cannot stand it. I'm bored. What would I be if I ran a bank?”
“Secure and most likely rich like me. Why is it all the people of your generation are so set against doing anything that your fathers worked for?"
“Were not against everything you've worked for, and I want to be just as successful as you. I just want to do it on my own. Why can't you understand?”
Edwin got the loan from another bank. His father saw this as an act of rebellion. For the next twenty-four years, he never let Edwin hear the end of it. He constantly brought it up at every family gathering. Even after Whitten Avionics Incorporated was doing well, his father never recognized it for the success it was.
Edwin believed he would turn the company around. He did, in just three years it was in the black. He started by calling every aviation firm from Houston to Moscow. He succeeded by never taking a "no" for an answer.
Many times, he made personal appearances at the doorstep of every two-bit company in the area, just to scare up some sales.
On one such call, he came across a new company named Lunar Development Corporation, Incorporated. That was 10 years ago. Back then, it was just a small company that worked as an independent contractor for NASA. They did odd jobs ranging from simple charting and photography of the moon's surface to the complex, such as designing the mock-up of their lunar colony.
The problem for them, however, was that their contract stated all outcomes were the property of NASA. Now it was going public, and they were going to have a colony of their own on the moon by the year 2010. Something that if successful would be a real coup, considering NASA scrapped its plans, citing various problems. The main problem, of course, was that the federal government would not approve the funding for reasons all of its own. In Whitten's opinion, the government was afraid to lose valuable tax dollars, because many legal experts thought that the US government could not have legal jurisdiction on the moon. No country on Earth could truly claim it until they colonized it, but how can any government maintain control of an essentially autonomous group of people.
Whitten Avionics was one of a few companies that still supplied Boeing, Lockheed Martin, Grumman, and Raytheon; it even does business with Airbus. On occasion, it supplies NASA. Whitten wanted more, a lot more. He wanted to eat at the table with the grown-ups at Thanksgiving. If Whitten Avionics could get in on the ground floor and supply the moon colony then it would be the sky’s the limit he thought.
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice. Edwin felt like saying, "Go away, and wait until later." However, he knew that this situation eventually, must be dealt with and it might as well be taken care of now.
“Daddy, can we talk?”
“Have you decided to take the money for the abortion, and stop seeing this Ian Mallory as I've asked you? All this guy wants is money; he does not love you. Think about this logically and you will see him for the snake he is. Just wait six months when you are all belly. And he is long gone, with no forwarding address. Then you’ll be stuck raising a child all by yourself. Is that what you want? Don’t you realize if you have a child very few men will want to even think about marrying you then?”
“Don't worry your money is safe, Ian Mallory couldn't care less about all of your millteions. You know what? Neither could I. Another thing, I would never have an abortion. Ian will never stop seeing me. I can prove it, He has asked me to marry him, and I said yes. So, see you aren’t the ruler of the entire universe”
“Well, if that's your choice, I think you should know what the consequences of your decision will be.” Mr. Whitten continued, “I will pay for the wedding, and a modest honeymoon, which is my responsibility and I'll not shirk it. But that will be the last thing I do for you. Do you understand? This marriage should take place as soon as possible, which means a very small guest list. Second, I will not pay for your senior year at college. I will not give you another dollar of my money. You will have to find your place to live and fend for yourselves. Third, you should be ready to work your tail off, because raising a child today is going to be even tougher for you than it was for me. Lastly, I give your union a maximum of two years before it falls apart, I hope you prove me wrong, but I won't hold my breath.”
On July 28, 1982, the sun was shining, and the birds were singing, as Ian Mallory and Blaire Whitten were wed. Whitten was not all that heartless however, he gave Blaire her mother's wedding gown, and it fit, barely. She looked radiant in the white gown, and secretly Whitten was overcome with shame for his actions. His daughter was a beautiful young woman now, and she had her own life to live, no matter how rough a road it was.
It was a small ceremony with Edwin and Harry in attendance for the bride and Ian's parents in attendance for the groom. It was the first and last time Edwin met them, and they did not impress him at all. The ceremony was presided over by a Justice of the Peace. Since Blaire was pregnant; Edwin wouldn't ask a priest or minister to perform the ceremony, besides, he couldn’t get a church on such short notice
The honeymoon was, as advertised, modest. It consisted of a weekend in Galveston, in a pleasant but inexpensive motel near the beach, with little or no amenities. Ian and Blaire couldn't have cared a bit; to them, it was the greatest weekend of their young lives. They were together and they were married. No longer would they have to sneak around to see each other, they would be together for eternity.
On March 17, 2003, Baby Boy Mallory was born at 8:05 in the morning. He was a healthy baby, and he weighed eight pounds, eleven, and a half ounces. Ian was beside himself with joy, a baby boy and on St. Patrick's Day no less! Surely, the luck of the Irish was upon him. Ian knew what he wanted to name him,
“Let’s name our son, Ian Sean Mallory, Jr.”
“No! I do not want two of you Ian. How about a compromise, we'll name him Sean W. Mallory?”
What's the 'W' stand for?” Asked Ian, fearing that he already knew.
“We'll let it stand for 'W' just like the 'S' in Harry S. Truman's name. If anyone wants to read more into it, then it will be they're doing.”
Ian knew that this was a battle that he could not win. Even if he prevailed with his argument, he would lose in the end. It was the same argument his father lost. His father had wanted to name him something completely different, he wanted Sean Patrick Mallory, his mother wanted to name him after both of the grandfathers, and she won. It wasn't such a bad compromise to make, he thought. At that moment, he stared out the window and up into the evening sky and saw what looked like a shooting star. A sign of good luck, Ian thought. So, he agreed to Sean W. Mallory and signed the birth certificate.
Edwin was proud; Very proud of his grandson and too proud to admit he was wrong, even slightly. So, he sent a card to the parents attached to a very big model airplane for his new grandson. That's not all he did though. The next day he went to the law offices of Clayton, Robison, & associates.
” Harry, I want you to change my will.” Whitten boomed while stuffing a cigar into Harry's hand.
“What do you want it to say, Edwin?” Harry did not light the cigar; he knew Whitten could not stand them. The simple act of giving one to him was a testament to Whitten's character, he followed perceived protocols, but only when it suited him to do so.
“I want you to put my grandson's name on it. The only thing I want to be changed is this, now Sean W. Mallory is to be listed as the beneficiary of the Lunar Development Corporation, Inc. stock.”
“What about Blaire and...”
“Don't say it” Whitten interrupted.
“All I was going to ask is are you going to put a provision in the will in case you should die before Sean becomes of age?”
“No... I guess I won't be able to die until he becomes an adult. All right, put in this clause, he cannot take control of this asset until either he has received a college degree, or until he reaches his 25th birthday whichever comes first.”
“If anyone can take control over when he dies it would be you, Edwin. I will make the necessary changes and put them into legalese for you. It should be ready by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Tomorrow? Why should it take so long? It's just a simple little codicil.” Whitten complained. He always demanded that the results be immediate.
“Yes, it is, but you're not my only client. Don't worry I'll take care of it first thing in the morning. I promise.” Harry said trying to placate him.
Harry watched Whitten get up and leave and then started to think about his odd behavior. He always tried to make people do what he wanted them to do, Harry thought.
This was another example of Whitten following perceived protocols if he could just give his grandson the money, he would, but that would raise too much suspicion.
Harry wondered though about Whitten's relationship with his daughter. Whitten was hurt when she decided to marry Ian. Whitten still believed that all Ian wanted was a free ride, and that Blaire could give it to him. Never once did he realize they truly loved each other. Harry secretly wondered if that was because Margaret, or Maggie as everyone called her, died so young and Whitten had to be both mother and father to the child. Whitten didn't remarry because he was afraid of losing yet another person he cared for. Or at least that's how Harry reasoned it to be. Secretly, Harry wondered if that was the true reason behind Whitten's hatred of Ian. He hated him for the simple fact that he was taking his lifeline to his late wife. Then again, maybe it was because they would be happy together, and he didn't have a chance at happiness. Whatever the reason it appeared that the hatred would not be carried over to his new grandson.
Chapter One
The stillness of the night was broken by the high-pitched alarms, and screams of frantic calls of fearful men, by the thunder of the boots crashing against the decks by men purposefully running, trying to get to their emergency stations.
The announcement repeated, “All hands to emergency stations, core breach imminent. This is not a drill…” it droned. The captain, a senior year cadet, was finally awakened by not only the noise but by a junior officer, reporting that there was a serious malfunction with the containment unit and that somehow there was a contamination of the fissionable material.
Captain R’Yclif knew what that meant; the core would have to be dumped. Any hopes of passing the final exam were dashed now. It had been a difficult assignment, even for his crew, they were the top 1 percent of their class at the academy, and it was of course unfair. Unfair and simply a way of setting them up for failure, he believed that with every fiber of his being, first they were supposed to go on what was to be a simple patrol cruise. But they had changed those plans, now they were on an exploratory mission in the furthest reaches of the Obsidian Throne. To add even more stress, most of these areas, no one had been to in nearly two and a half millennia. They were supposed to update navigation maps, find the promise of new natural resources and show where the Obsidian Throne could expand its empire.
He got out of bed and put his uniform on. He consulted with the chief engineer J’Orgen, who as it so happens was also sleeping before the chaos began.
“Well, I believe we have no choice but the dump the core” stated the engineer matter of factly.
“Yes, I know that, but without the core, we have no hope of getting back to the Central Worlds.” Stated R’Yclif hoping he did not sound like a blathering idiot stating the obvious.
“Well we still will have impulse power and we will still be able to generate electric power and life support.
“Yes, but at impulse speed it will take us nearly” He stopped to think for a second, trying to grasp the number his mind had calculated…. Could that be right he thought to himself, 350 years?
J’Orgen confirmed it by finishing the sentence for him. “350 years plus or minus a decade.”
They shut the engines down and the crew performed the emergency dump of the core, knowing full well, that even though they were saving their lives, they were condemning themselves to a slow death in the cold darkness of space.
He and his crew, all ten of them were sitting around the conference table in the ship's meeting room. The noise had gotten out of control. R’Yclif shouted, and they all stopped talking and looked at him.
“We don’t need to start laying blame, and we know what happened was an accident. It was unavoidable. Yes, we can point out, it was preventable, but that is like saying the Ulster Wars were preventable. We all know what caused it, but we could not stop it. So on to a more productive discussion.”
Where can we find more Inothorzium 299? Where can we find a replacement for our core, so we do not have to die here in space? So, we can get home. So, we can have a chance at graduation, before we are old and gray.
A meek voice answered, well sir we could try to use the old survey charts for this region, they may be outdated, to the space traders, but I bet the information on minerals is at least usable. If we can find a sizable deposit of Inothorzium we may be able to find a way to mine it.”
“So, what we mine it. How are we going to refine it?” Another of the crew interrupted.
“Look here, now we will not start squabbling now.” The captain was nearly bellowing to be heard again. He took a breath to calm himself, I think P’Etison, has a good idea, someone downloads the computer banks and all available data on minerals in this region of space.
“Well, Captain we have found a few bits of good news,” P’Etison replied. The crew was once again assembled in the conference room.
“Please continue,” R’Yclif replied.
“Okay, what we have found is that there is a sizable deposit of Inothorzium which we then need to make into Inothorzium 299, it is located on a moon that orbits the 3rd planet in this solar system,” P’Etison said as he pointed to it on the charts. “The surveys of this sector of space indicate a very low level of technology and a very low level of intelligence, so going in and mining the material should not be too difficult. However, refining it may take a little more doing; we may have to build our stinmelg and atomic bombardment setup. Then we need to create an area where we can create the Isotope. Of course, the hardest part of the entire operation will be the re-crystallization of the mineral and making sure we can tune it to the proper harmonics, need to use it as a power source.
“Alright, then I suggest we start studying how to perform that task.” The captain stated. But he was interrupted.
“While it is true we will need to have this converted into a crystal for it to work properly, we may not need to worry about the harmonics that only allows us to achieve a higher fraction of optimal increase in the output as determined by a thrust to weight ratios”
Everyone stared at J’Orgen, the chief engineer. “What?” he replied, he was unaware of his effect on the entire crew.
“Well, would you like to repeat that in plain simple Standard?” stated junior officer P’Etison
“Okay, first you were correct, we do need to refine the Inothorzium and create the isotope, and reform it into a crystal. And yes, if we could tune the harmonics to provide an optimum level of thrust, i.e. giving us the ability to travel at multiples of the speed of light, and then yes it would save of a great amount of time. This, in turn, would help us return to G’Acrax quicker. However, as I also said, if all we can do is refine and re-crystallize the Inothorzium 299, then we can still get home. It will take longer, but not the 350 years we are faced with presently. Possibly three or at the outside five years, the worst-case scenario ten years, but in contrast is very acceptable.”
The others thought about this and decided that it sounded better than the alternative. They went about making the necessary arrangements for in-system travel. They decided to use a simple ballistic approach, with a small deviation. They decided that since they were in the area they might as well update their charts. This they figured could be a big plus, and maybe give them some extra credit; seeing as they were now going to be very late, in returning from their final exam. So, they were going to use one final big push, and try to slingshot around the big gas giant, in an attempt to give them more speed to reach the much-needed power source. The other reason was they could send out survey drones, of which they had plenty, and get an updated picture of this region of space. And then create new charts to use and turn in to the academy. They hoped they could at least salvage one positive experience from this big mess.
“Sir, I should point out that this mission to get the Inothorzium is going to take us some time, as many as 10 years possibly longer depending on other factors.”
“And?” the captain asked.
“Sir, we don’t have supplies for that length of time, we have at most a few weeks, and then only if we use one-quarter rations. And that doesn’t address water, sir. We can, of course, recycle our liquid waste and possibly give us a few extra days, but eventually, it will not be a viable option.
R’Yclif stopped in mid-stride, he hadn’t thought about the need for extra provisions. How would he solve this dilemma? He was only the captain because he was a senior and would be given an appointment into the Space Navy as a Junior Grade Lieutenant when he finally graduated. Granted he was the top of his class and he was the best suited for this mission, but that was when everything was optimal, not when it turned into a disaster. He was always afraid something like this was going to happen. He was not prepared to meet this kind of trouble, and he knew that if the mission failed it would be because he was not able to overcome the obstacles in front of him now.
“What options do we have?” R’Yclif finally asked.
“I have a couple of suggestions.” The cadet reported. “We could try to activate the suspended animation chambers. They would have to be jerry-rigged to bypass the safety lockouts; they are in a lockout condition, set by the academy because they did not believe them to be necessary for this mission. We would have to hack into the main computer and override the locks then set the computer to automatically send out the survey drones as we pass each planet in the system. Then inform the computer, to store all the information in a new file, so we can review the data later. That way we can update our charts. Of course, we would need to tell the computer to start the reanimation sequence as we enter the area of the Inothorzium deposit.”
“That sounds like a lot of work,” R’Yclif replied.
“The second option is not nearly as good and involves a lot of modifications to the recycler system.”
Tell me about it just in case. R’Yclif answered. He was not very optimistic, but he needed options.
“Okay, we start by setting the recycler up to change the consistency of the waste products into a more usable nutrient supplement.
“That sounds disgusting!” R’Yclif interrupted. “I’d rather not go and do that.” He continued.
“Ah well, neither would the rest of the crew.”
“So then, who can hack the computer system so that we can operate the suspended animation chambers?”
“Our best bet would be Cadet Ensign T’Orkel,” P’Etison answered.
“Isn’t he the same one who was on watch when we had to dump the core?” How do we know he didn’t create the situation we are in now?”
“Well there’s not much we can do about what happened, without a full-scale investigation, but we won’t live long enough to conduct it without his help.”
The decision was a simple one in the end; they needed to survive to do anything. So, they trusted T’Orkel to hack into the computer. He was successful, and he was able to bypass the safety interlocks and get the computer to set up a subroutine program allowing the suspended animation chambers to function. Then he programmed the computer to automatically send out a drone as the ship entered the system and, they decided to include a geological survey of every planet and major moon. This would be the basis for the new charts.
As R’Yclif entered the chamber his last thoughts were what if this doesn’t work? Then the injection device pricked his arm, and slowly he began to get sleepy. Within a few minutes, he was asleep.
The computer monitored the crew; all were within normal operating parameters. As the ship entered the Milky Way it started, it is preprogrammed in a systematic approach to the planet Earth’s moon. It turned on its monitoring equipment and sent the drone to conduct its survey. It noted time and date then made a comparison of the new data to that, which was stored in its database, a lot has happened in 2000 years
.
Saturday, June 7, 2021
The George Bush auditorium
The Graduation day for Clear Lake High School had finally arrived. Ceremonies were being held inside due to the heavy rain that had been falling all day. Many students were taking it as a bad omen. Even Sean W. Mallory was feeling that the gloomy weather seemed to match his mood. Even though he was graduating with honors, lettered in cross-country every year, and was a two-time national champion in wrestling and on the High School All-American team. He was vice-president of the student body government and on the debate team. Even with these accomplishments, he felt that he hadn't achieved enough. He was a very driven individual. “Second place was only invented to let the losers feel better,” was something he lived by. The proof of this was that no matter how well everyone said he performed, he believed that it could have been done better or faster and was never satisfied with it.
A “B” meant that he had somehow slipped up. That made him even more determined to get an “A” the next time. He was constantly doing extra credit projects to compensate for his self-perceived shortcomings as an academic. Of course, the same way he attacked his schoolwork is the same way he tackled athletics. He preferred individual competition, as compared to team sports, “Because you could only rely on yourself to succeed anyway,” as he always preached. He believed that if you could have your personal best, but the team still lost that night, you were still a loser.
So, he applied himself to the areas where personal achievement meant personal victory he was built for wrestling, his 6’3” 225-pound body could take as well as give punishment, and Sean gave much more then he received. He wore his wavy jet-black hair short and neat. His eyes were as blue and as cold as ice. Most of his classmates, when asked to describe him, would say meticulous, logical, calculating and distant, or cold. Only a few knew that what most saw, as indifference was insecurity. He didn't have many friends; he only had one Thomas Hardy.
He did not have a girl, not that he lacked for choices. It was not any girl who could live up to his high standards, which were measured against his mother’s striking beauty of her youth and his demands for the perfection of himself. This all added up to him having just three dates in high school, none of which was with the same girl.
The thing about graduation is that for those participating, it seems to move at an incredibly slow pace. The bigger the school, the longer it takes, for the real reason, everyone is there, which is to get their diplomas and get out of there forever. Sean, like most of his classmates, didn't have a clue as to his future. He knew, to get the high paying job with all the perks, the house in the suburbs, and the Mercedes Benz, along with the rest of the trappings of success. He would need to go on to a four-year university and complete his degree. Which was a field with a high demand for his skills, but what was it exactly he wanted out of life? That's where everything went to pieces because he had no idea of what he wanted to become.
He only knew what he didn't want. He didn't want to be his like his father. He considered his father lazy and unmotivated. Sean felt that Mr. Mallory should have started his practice, after all why become a psychologist only to teach theory to students all day. He could not understand it, he had asked his father on several occasions, why he just didn’t decide to stop teaching, and start a practice. He always got the same reply. “It is a noble endeavor to ensure that future generations of young people receive the best training I can give.” Sean thought this was a cop-out, and it always went back to the old saying, “those who can do, and those who can’t… teach. It seemed to fit the situation well, in Sean’s mind.
The ceremony finally got to the handing out of the graduates' diplomas.
When Sean's name was called out there was a silent cheer that went out from the back of the auditorium. It came from Edwin Whitten. He hadn't seen his grandson, other than for Christmas, for about eight years, every time he and his daughter were in the same room there were inevitably arguments. Whitten hated it, but he couldn't help himself, all he could do is thinking of how much more his beautiful daughter deserved, and what she was forced to accept.
To Blaire's credit though, she never once complained about how little Ian made. Nor, did she even think to ask for a single thing from her father, not because she thought he would deny her, but because she knew he would not. Ian was her husband and she would not demoralize him by running back to daddy every time the going got rough. When she finally got into the job market, she made sure that the money she made was comparable to her husband's, at least in the beginning. Now she made more than he did, but she still let him run the household finances.
Just as he was heading to his parent’s car, tap on the back stopped Sean. He turned around, and to his surprise, the person he saw was his grandfather.
“Grandpa, you made it, did you see me? I did it; I got my associate degree!”
“Yes, I saw, and I am very proud of you son, I hope you’re thinking of continuing your studies, it is very difficult to find a good career without a four-year degree,” Whitten said, trying to sound fatherly.
“Tell me about it, I have been all through the classifieds, of course I am only looking for a summer job. But there aren’t a lot of non-degree positions available.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something, you’re a resourceful young man.
“I just wanted to offer my congratulations and wish you good luck.” With that Whitten shook his hand.
He wanted to hug him, but he knew most young men Sean’s age would not appreciate such an overt gesture. He had originally decided to go to the party and give his present to him there. However, in an effort to avoid any arguments, he gave Sean his present here, it was a card, inside of it was a check for one hundred dollars and a gift certificate to a local computer outlet store.
Sean read the card and looked at the gift certificate and thought about the new laptop he’d been looking at, now he could afford to get it. A new laptop would be useful; especially with all the papers, he would be doing next year when he transferred to a four-year university, to complete his degree.
“Thank you so much for this,” Sean said holding up the gift certificate. “I am going to buy a new laptop, my old one is pretty well done for. I needed another one, but I didn’t know how I would get one. I was thinking I could ask mom or dad about getting me one for Christmas.”
The rain had stopped, the clouds cleared, and the sun started to shine down on the new graduates. They were able to get to the awaiting cars without getting their new sheepskins wet. Sean looked out the car window to the east and saw a rainbow. He tried to see his grandfather in the crowd, but it was impossible to distinguish anyone in the mass of people swarming the parking lot.
The drone had gathered a tremendous amount of information; it had transmitted its entire memory three times since it had been launched. The computer compared the new information to the old and noted a few minor differences. So, it updated the memory and then gave the command to wipe the data from the drone. It was coming up on the gas Giant, and it would require most of the memory space for just this planet and its moons. Major amounts of information would be devoted to whether a viable colony or military outpost, could be sustained here. As well as whether the gas giant could be profited from as well possibly as an energy source. This appeared to be more successful than originally anticipated. It started to send its findings back to G’Acrax. It had been previously programmed, by the High Command to do so if it had been tampered with and to provide reports. It was also recording and monitoring all the radio and television signals it was receiving from the third planet, which was previously believed to be uninhabited or inhabited by a species that was considered to be too primitive to be at this technology level. So, the natives had either evolved much faster than anticipated or more advanced people had conquered them. Information was power and the more information the computer gathered the more the High Command could use to its advantage.
The summer went by entirely too soon for Sean. Tomorrow would be the first day as an undergraduate student at Houston University. He decided that he would live in an apartment off-campus. He wanted do declare his independence from his parents; this was the day he'd been dreaming about for a very long time. He moved into an apartment a month ago, and as luck would have it, he talked to Thomas Hardy about being a roommate. At least he could count on one familiar person in the vast sea of anonymous faces.
He had known Thomas since grade school. If anyone was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, it was Thomas. His father owned Hardy Industries Incorporated, which is a Fortune 100 company, with its finger in just about every pie imaginable, from hotel chains to textiles. It created superconductor research facilities and oversaw the production of nuclear warheads for the defense department. Thomas Hardy didn't need college; his father would have given him a position in the Family business. Thomas wasn't ready for the “real world” yet. So, he decided to go to college. He had to go to Houston University though, or his father wouldn't pay for it.
Sean, however, was paying his way through college. He had saved enough by graduation to pay for the enrollment and he saved all the money he made over the summer to pay for books. At least for this semester, he was still a college student. The next thing Sean did was go to the student placement center, about a month before the first day of classes to enroll in the work-study program. He received a referral for a clerk position, in the operations department of Lunar Development Corporation, Inc. The pay was not great, but $1000 a month was perfect for Sean.
He learned quickly that most of the people in his department shuffled papers and projects from one group to the next hoping to make it look like a lot was being accomplished. He decided to take on the most unpopular, and the most time-consuming projects. Then see them to completion. This got him noticed by upper management. He was quickly earmarked for the fast track if he stayed.
Sean dove into his studies, and like in high school, soon was proving to be an adept student. He would work and then go home and study six hours for the next day of classes. Sean was going into a self-destructive cycle, constantly chasing his tail to maintain his school, and work, and it was taking its toll. He was not getting the sleep that his body needed, and he wasn't eating properly either. This prompted Thomas to invite him over to his parents for the Thanksgiving weekend.
Sean accepted the invitation, and when he arrived at the Hardy’s house, he was taken back to an age of innocent childhood. He could still remember the first time he had ever been invited to this house; he was seven years old.
The house itself was mammoth in size it sat on a full 20 acres of prime real estate. It sprawled out all over the place, almost as if the designer was a student of Picasso's "cubist's" period.
He still remembered getting utterly lost the first time he tried to find the bathroom and the near-disastrous results. He was in desperate need, and started going down the hallway, stopping at every door. He crossed his legs and open each door just enough to peek inside the open doorway. He’d look in to see if it was a bathroom, and when he saw it wasn’t, he quickly closed it and move as fast as he could to the next one. This happened repeatedly. Thankfully, the housekeeper saw his dilemma and pointed him to the nearest bathroom. There were seven of them in the house. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Sean used to envy Thomas until he realized how little time Thomas spent with his family.
Thomas Hardy Sr. was seldom at home. He was either at the office or away on business.
Thomas used to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with the Mallory's because his family was too busy to stop and celebrate. Things had changed though; Thomas Sr. had a massive coronary about three years ago and the doctor told him if he didn't slow down that he'd be dead in less than six months. It never seems to fail, the threat of death can accomplish more in a moment, and then a lifetime of pleading ever will.
Sean approached the front door of the Hardy’s house and rang the doorbell. Earl, the butler answered the door and showed Sean to his guest room and made sure that his needs would be met. Earl announced that the evening meal would be at half-past seven, and seeing it was, only a quarter past five that perhaps a brief nap would be advisable. Thomas had put Earl up to this rather unusual bit of advice. Normally Earl wouldn't have even dreamed of telling a guest that they needed a nap or anything else for that matter. Thomas was going to do his best to ensure that Sean relaxed all weekend.
Sean and Tom went to the arcade to play some virtual reality video games. Sean was especially good at "Lunar Survival." It was a game set on the moon's surface during a catastrophic meteor collision. The object was, the player had to find a way to keep safe of the impact and resulting moonquake, but he must also find a way to survive, and ultimately get off the moon to win the game.
There are many treacherous levels and a multitude of bad guys lurking in dark corners. However, the real problem is that you only have a limited supply of oxygen and you must find the emergency oxygen station. Then fight off those who are trying to do the same thing. Then, if you are successful at getting this far, the challenge begins, finding a way off the lunar surface and getting to safety. In the game, there are two safe havens, Earth and an orbiting space station. The space station is not as safe as the Earth and it has more dangers in trying to get there. The Earth, on the other hand, is much safer. But it is harder to get to, and, the player needs to steal a spaceship and pilot it to Earth. The problem with this is landing. Most scenarios end right here because 99 percent of the players crash.
Sean had already won the game by escaping to the orbital station. He stole a small private spaceplane. Its design did not take such abuse into consideration, nor was it intended for the aerial acrobatics Sean performed in it. It was a simple unassuming transport and Sean turned it into a stunt flyer. He flew it to the station. He didn't know how to properly dock, so he rammed the small plane through the docking hatch. He was lucky. The plane was able to wedge itself halfway through the station's hanger bay doors.
He got out of the fighter and the crash crew immediately, took him to the medical center and then the game ended with a congratulation screen. He was informed that he had won a T-shirt because he successfully survived. He was asked to enter his name and mailing address and his T-shirt would arrive in 4- 6 weeks. That was weeks ago and still no sign of it. He had not made a successful attempt at crashing into Earth.
The other part of the challenge of playing "Lunar Survival" was that there was no way to win the game the same way, ever, no matter what machine you used no matter where you were. This is because a satellite-linked all of the machines. All the data was transferred to the game's designers, where it was constantly updated. Your victory in the game actually meant you really achieved something grand. The rumor is that there is a conspiracy to make the game unable to be won, thus increasing the profits it could generate. The designer responded that there would eventually be a tournament and only the highest scoring "survivors" would be invited to try out their wits against each other instead of the computer. The time of this modem day duel has yet to be determined, giving the conspiracy theory more credit than it may have deserved. Sean had yet to win the game by escaping to Earth, although he played often. He was determined that he would be the first to win the game both ways. That would assure him a spot in the duel, if and when it ever took place.
“After you’re through crashing into the planet, why don’t we hit a movie?” Tom suggested. He liked video games just as much as the next guy, but Sean was obsessed with winning the unbeatable. Tom had tried Lunar Survival and had succeeded in killing himself in glorious new ways. He was there when Sean won, Sean got up out of the booth and started to whoop and holler and jumping up and down, it was infectious, and it was pure crazy. But Tom knew that if he ever won that infernal machine, he would probably do the same thing.
Sean, not liking to be interrupted mumbled, “yeah just hang a second, I am almost through the atmosphere…Damn!” “See what you made me do! I crashed! And it’s your fault.” Sean said with a hint of humor in his voice.
“Yeah sure it’s my fault, was it me who piloted the spacecraft?” Tom replied half-upset and half-laughing.
The weekend without work proved to exactly what Sean needed, however. He came back to school with a renewed sense of purpose and vigor. He was anxious for finals to be finished. Unlike many students, Sean did not believe in cramming for them. He was always studying towards that goal. So that when it came down to the last week of classes his strategy was a bit different instead of studying, he went out and lived a little. His strategy worked well for him, when the finals came around his head was clear, and he was ready to take them. He breezed through them, without any difficulties.
With his tests over, his thoughts turned toward the Christmas break and going home to see his parents, for the first time since he began classes in the fall. On the last day of classes for the semester, he received a letter in the mail. It didn't have a return address and it appeared to have been mailed locally, according to the postmark.
Sean recognized the stationary as his grandfather's. He opened it, expecting the same official invitation to Christmas Dinner. It was an invitation to Christmas Day dinner from his grandfather. However, scrawled at the bottom in Grandfather's writing was a note saying, "I look forward to your attendance, as well as that of both your parents." Sean hadn't seen his grandfather in almost a year. In fact, it was last Christmas.
"Look at what just came in the mail," he called out to Thomas when he got back to his apartment.
"What is it, Sean?" Thomas asked without lifting his head from his packing.
"It's my annual invitation to Christmas Dinner with my grandfather," replied Sean.
"What! You have to have an invitation to see your own grandfather, and on Christmas no less, sounds like a modern-day Scrooge," Thomas stated rather sarcastically.
"Grandpa Whitten isn't a Scrooge; he even invited my parents this year."
"What do you mean even invited your parents?" Don't they normally come?"
"Not really, every time he and my parents are in the same place there's always a huge argument over why my mom ever married dad. So, whenever Grandfather Whitten wanted to see me when I was a kid, he sent his driver to pick me up."
"Whitten, the name sounds rather familiar. What does he do, I know I've heard that name before.”? Thomas was getting interested; there were so many people that did business with his father, or his father's company that it was impossible not to overhear a name or two eventually. That name, Whitten, struck him as having had some connection to Hardy Industries, somehow.
"Let me think. Have you ever heard of Whitten Avionics Inc.?" Sean asked self-consciously, he hated to make himself look big; it wasn't a big deal to him that his grandfather ran a large corporation, so sometimes it irked him that everyone else made a big deal about it. It wasn’t like he was trying to show off if fact he refrained from mentioning it entirely if he could get away with it.
"Whiten Avionics?" Thomas questioned.
"Yeah, Whitten Avionics, it's not a big deal." Sean answered.
"You mean that your grandfather is J. Edwin Whitten and you never told me.”
“So? What's the big deal?”
“The big deal is that he is rich, that's the big deal. I knew that name. Whitten Avionics has done some contract work for my dad with his commuter airline; you know spare parts that sort of thing. Man, if I'd known you were loaded I would...”
“Number one, I am not loaded. Number two; you wouldn't have done anything differently because we've been friends since we were in grade school." Sean interrupted.
"So, are you going to go?" Thomas asked, pointing at the invitation.
"I don't know, maybe I will." Sean finally answered.
Sean arrived at his parent's house later that evening and rushed inside to greet them. When he got to the family room, he saw that his mother was crying and that his father was trying to comfort her. Sean asked, "What's happened? What's wrong?"
"Your grandfather has had a severe stroke, “replied Ian, "He is at Sisters of Mercy Medical Center downtown, and he is listed as critical and isn't expected to live past the night. We were waiting for you to get here before we left for the hospital. Do you want to come?"
"Yes, of course, I want to come. Why would you even ask a stupid question like that? I mean really, am I going to stand here and say, 'no I am not interested, sorry.' What kind of person do you take for anyway?" Sean exclaimed, unable to believe that anything could be as bad as they were making it out to be. Also, unable to believe how his father could ask such a question.
"I'm sorry Sean; it's just that it's been a while since you've seen him. We thought maybe it would be easier if...well just in case he doesn't make through this, you'd be able to remember him as a strong man instead of what he may become."
Ian tried to make it easier for himself as well. By offering Sean a way out, he could say that he would stay with him, and try to avoid any last arguments that may erupt between Edwin and him.
They made their way through the rain and downtown traffic, on their way to the hospital. Twice, they needed to wait for the rain to slow to see the road; all the while, they rode in silence each deep in their own thoughts. Each hoping, it wasn’t too late. But, each for their own different reasons. Sean wanted to see a Christmas where all of them were together. Blaire simply was not ready to deal with the fact her father was old enough to start thinking he may die, and Ian just wanted the old goat to make it through, for Blaire’s sake.
Once they got to the hospital, it took them twenty minutes to find a parking space. They made their way to the third floor of the hospital. Edwin was in the ICU his condition was still serious and he looked as if he was already dead. He just lay their unconscious with all the monitors and recording devices hooked up, reporting what was so painfully obvious, not much was happening. They stood there staring at him and Blaire understandably was crying. The doctor walked into the room and explained the situation to them. Blaire barely heard him speak.
"If he can make throughout the night his chances of recovery go up by 60 percent and a complete recovery becomes obtainable if he can make to Monday. Of course, there is no guarantee. With stroke victims it hard to tell, the patient may never have a complete recovery it all depends on the individual." Like many doctors, he gave hope and then took it away with the same sentence. The doctor answered questions and tried to keep them thinking optimistically. They spent most of the evening in the hospital waiting room, hoping and praying for a miracle.
Edwin's secretary Mrs. Lucas, an elderly woman who had been widowed ten years ago, was in the waiting room when the Mallory family entered. After a few minutes of silence, she started to speak, and with tears in her eyes, and a horse throat she began to tell what happened. "He was in the middle of dictating a letter when he started to complain of a severe headache, then about three minutes later he just collapsed into his chair. Well, right then and there I called 911. They said if I'd have been any later, he would not be here," she explained.
What she left out because of how guilty she felt was that the real reason she was in Whitten's office was for much more than a little dictation. She and Edwin had been having a sexual affair for about two and a half years. Nobody else knew about it because they kept it strictly out of the office. This was the first time Edwin had even tried to engage in anything at the workplace. At first, she had thought that at age 66 Edwin would not be much of a lover, but she was wrong, pleasantly wrong.
After spending six hours at the hospital, Ian suggested they go home, get some rest, and come back in the morning when they could expect some word as to Whitten's condition. Blaire wanted to spend the night; however, she was informed, because her father was in ICU that she would not be allowed to stay in his room with him. So, she reluctantly agreed to go home.
"I'm sorry Sean; this is a terrible way to start a holiday vacation. I haven't even asked you how finals went, or how you think you did in your classes." Blaire stated
"Well finals were not so bad, and I'll probably pull a 3.8 I think I am on track for the Dean’s List." Sean replied unenthusiastically, “You know what is strange though?"
"What, Sean?" asked his mother.
Sean answered, "I received my invitation in the mail for Christmas Day dinner from Grandpa Whitten. I was wondering if you guys might know anything about it."
"You know we don't receive an invitation to Christmas dinner at Edwin's. I am sure that he hasn't changed dramatically since last year. I would have to advise you to be careful about how you advertise it." Blaire said trying to downplay for Ian. It hurt to not see her father, but she made the right choice. She loved Ian and she wasn't going to put him in a situation where he had to defend himself
"Look at me; I'm talking as if he were at home instead of in the hospital." Blaire started to cry again, as Ian stared down the road and Sean into the night sky.
They drove the rest of the way in silence each deep in their thoughts and oblivious to the others in the car. Ian pulled into the driveway. The dash clock read 2:18 AM. Sean got out of the car and quietly went into the house, made his way to his old room and went to bed.
He got up around 5:00 am, unable to sleep; he went to the kitchen for a snack. Sean hadn't eaten anything since noon the day before. When he got to the refrigerator, his hunger got the better of him. Instead of a mere snack, Sean had a full meal of fried eggs, toast with orange marmalade, a short stack, and a side of bacon. All washed down with a large glass of milk.
He wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep. Blaire was unable to rest either; she finally gave up at about a quarter to five. She got up and started to take off her nightshirt and get ready to shower. Ian woke up and heard the shower running. He decided that sleep would be futile. He was unable to sleep well without Blaire next to him, so he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.
Ian entered the bathroom as quietly as possible, lightly stepped across the tile floor, and opened the shower door. Startled, she turned around and exclaimed: "Ian, you shouldn't sneak up on me like that." Ian stepped inside the shower and shut the door behind him. There was just barely enough room for the two of them to be in it together, Slowly, Ian put his arms around her waist and then started to kiss the back of her neck. He knew each of her most sensitive spots, the ones that would make her melt, by merely touching them, but that's not the way he wanted to proceed. He wanted her response to be free and of her own will. She turned and faced him and pulled his face closer to hers. Then she passionately almost desperately started to kiss him, all the while clinging to him as if her very life depended on it.
Ian took her in his arms and then started to caress her still smooth and silky body until their passions could not be denied. They quickly embraced each other as they stepped out of the shower and made their way to the bed. Once there they proceeded with their lovemaking at a frenzied pace that belied their years, it was as if they were young lovers all over again. Then Ian entered her; she surrendered to him completely, allowing him to thrust himself into her at will. Then he started to increase the pace and sliding it in and out slowly at first then faster. At that moment Blaire couldn't hold back any longer, the room was filled with her screams of ecstasy as the wave of her orgasm took control of her.
Then when she recovered from her first orgasm, she started to meet his thrusts, timing her own so they met halfway. Ian started to increase his pace until; he too finally spent himself deep within her. They lay there together in each other's arms, sharing the glory of the moment, but at the same time knowing this was only a temporary reprieve to the grief that each knew would soon return.
Ian and Blaire went into the shower and this time showered. They still wanted to be close to each other; after they toweled off, they dressed and went downstairs to get breakfast. They entered in the middle of Sean's big feast. "Are your hungry son?" Ian asked.
"Not as much as I was about thirty minutes ago. You two wouldn't be hungry now would you" Sean asked with a smirk on his face.
"Mind your own business, and that's not any of your business, understand." Ian stated.
Blaire stifled a grin, and then said, "It appears that you've grown a bit bolder now that you are a college man. Your father's right though, mind your own business." She said as she tousled his hair.
"Oh, by the way, I was minding my own business, when I decided to check the mail from yesterday and guess what I found?"
"What is it, your letter asking for more money?"
"No! I found these" he replied, as he held up two envelopes, identical to the one he received.
"So, what are they" Ian asked.
"They are, if I'm not mistaken, invitations to Christmas Dinner at Grandpa Whitten's."
"And if you are mistaken?" asked Ian and Blaire at the same time.
"If that is true, then I'll pay for dinner on the town" Sean answered confidently, knowing that they were indeed invitations to Christmas at his grandfather's house.
"Well, unless there is a very big improvement from the time, we left the hospital till now, Christmas dinner may end up a very unmerry occasion," Ian said trying not to sound too pessimistic. Why did the old man have to make everything complicated, even a simple thing like Christmas was turned into a major production, with formal invitations sent to relatives? Whoever heard of sending out invitations for Christmas to family members, Ian thought.
They got to the hospital around 8:30 am. They arrived on the third floor and the charge nurse informed them that Edwin had regained consciousness around 5:00 am.
"He still isn't ready for visitors yet; the doctor is examining him right now and he'll need to rest. You'll be able to visit him after a little while." The nurse explained.
They sat down in the waiting room with anticipation. The doctor finally walked into the room, and he looked into Blaire's face.
"Your father is doing much better this morning; he's regained consciousness and is alert. He appears to be suffering from a slight memory lapse, but that is to be expected. He also appears to have suffered a slight paralysis on his right side, which also, is expected. The only other problem is a slight speech impediment. What is important is that he is determined to work towards a full recovery."
Blaire's face lit up at the news, but she still felt weak in the knees after the full diagnosis. "How soon before he can get out of the hospital and go home?" Blaire asked excitedly.
"He won't be able to leave until at least the end of the week; we want to run a few tests and schedule him for a meeting with the occupational therapist. We also want to ensure that he recovers his strength before we send him home. We wouldn't want to discharge him early and have him go into a relapse."
"Can we visit with him now?"
"Yes, but only for a few minutes." The doctor warned them, telling them he didn't want Whitten to become over-stimulated at this early stage.
The Mallory's quietly entered Edwin's room to their surprise he was still awake.
However, his face was ashen, and his color was gone, which gave an eerie presence when they turned towards him.
It was a haunting experience for Sean he has always seen his grandfather as an unstoppable ox; nothing slowed Mr. J. Edwin Whitten. It was as if he were someone else entirely; like a husk of corn that was discarded, and was blown by the wind, unable to determine its destiny. In a way that was exactly what was happening, Edwin was completely at the mercy of fate. It would be fate that determined when he would regain if he regained his strength.
"So how are you folks doing this morning?" Whitten quipped. The lisp was clearly noticeable, but everyone pretended it didn't exist, hoping that if it remained unspoken that it would go away.
"That is the stupidest question you've ever asked Dad, especially considering it is you who is in the hospital bed." Blaire nearly shouted trying to keep the rising fear out of voice and failing miserably.
"Well it is a fair question everyone knows how I am doing so I felt it only fair to know what you were feeling." all the while looking at Ian. Whitten still had his piercing stare, and he used it to its fullest extent that he weakened body would allow.
"I feel especially sorry for you. This has been very hard for you I'm sure." Ian told Whitten just to get it over with; trying not to seem too agitated or upset. He wasn't either; it was that every time he was around Whitten, he felt this uncontrollable urge, which he had to prove something. He constantly felt threatened by this man but looking at him now he just couldn't understand why. In a way, this incident somehow proved to Ian that Whitten was human after all.