Unaligned Opinions

Jeff rubbed his neck and chuckled as he headed down to the cafeteria. Explaining to Alan who Dick Tracy was hadn't taken long, but his son's reaction made him grin.

"You mean Brains didn't think up those watches on his own?" Alan had said, a puzzled expression on his face. "Here I thought he'd come up with something original. Fermat's gonna freak!"

Fermat may very well freak, Jeff thought as he scanned the cafeteria for his chief engineer. But if I know Hiram, he really did think those up himself. He's not exactly well read when it comes to fiction, and that includes the funnies.

His search for Brains ended when the man himself waved an arm to indicate where he was sitting. Jeff nodded, and headed for the small table. To his surprise, Brains wasn't alone. Sitting across from him, hands cradled around a cup of coffee, was an Asian gentleman. Jeff gave his friend a questioning look, and Hiram said, "Uh, Jeff. I'd l-like you to m-meet Dr. Daniel S-Sugimoto. Daniel, m-my employer, J-Jefferson Tr-Tracy."

The usual pleasantries died on Jeff's lips, and he struggled to maintain his composure. Dr. Sugimoto took one look at Jeff's suddenly stony face and rose. "I think I should be going now," he said quickly, obviously feeling uncomfortable. "I... I want to apologize, Mr. Tracy, for my son's actions. I don't know where I went wrong with him, but obviously, somewhere, I did. I hope your son will make a full and quick recovery." He nodded at Brains. "I'll email you about those specifications, Professor." He glanced at Jeff, who hadn't said a word. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Tracy." Then he left, threading his way through the cafeteria tables.

Jeff shook himself to action, and scowling, started after Dr. Sugimoto.

"Jeff!"

Brains's sharp call stopped him in his tracks. He stood still as his engineer came up behind him. "Jeff, he f-feels bad enough as it is. D-Don't make it worse."

There was a momentary pause, then Jeff huffed out a breath and made himself relax. He turned, nodded at Brains, and the two men sat down at the table.

"Y-You want me to get you s-something?" Brains asked. "Coffee? D-Danish?"

"I'll get something for myself in a minute," Jeff said. He looked off in the direction that Dr. Sugimoto had taken, then back at Brains. "What was that all about? Why was he here?"

"His s-son is undergoing m-mental evaluation and some b-blood testing," Brains said. "Since he's n-not 18 yet, Dr. S-S-Sugimoto has to be involved, at l-least as far as the h-hospital is concerned." He took a gulp of his coffee. "As far as the cr-criminal justice authorities are c-concerned, Lee is an a-adult."

Jeff made a noise of disgust. "Going for the insanity plea. I might have known."

Brains forked up a bit of egg on the plate before him and considered his words as he chewed. When his mouth was clear, he said, "There s-seems to be some c-concern over the steroids Lee was taking. The ringleader, P-Pierce, had d-doctored them himself, s-supposedly to m-make them undetectable."

"I remember hearing Sugimoto shouting something to that effect," Jeff said, folding his arms and leaning them on the table.

"It seems that the s-substance he used may b-be what ch-changed Lee's p-personality," Brains added. "His and the other st-student's."

Jeff shook his head, then straightened. "I don't buy it, Brains. No one forced these boys to take the steroids; no one made them act the way they did. No one made those older boys attack Alan's friend, or his roommate, or his teammate. They're responsible for their actions, Brains, plain and simple."

"N-No one says they aren't r-responsible," Brains said. "Especially the older ones. B-But if they were u-under the influence, so t-to speak, that might carry w-weight in their punishment."

"I still think it's pushing responsibility off onto someone or something else," Jeff replied. "But... that's not something we have to worry about right now, anyway." He paused. "What 'specifications' was Dr. Sugimoto talking about?"

"The sp-specs to his camera tech," Brains said. "I t-told him I'd s-see if the patent lawyers I u-use could help him." He took a moment to clear his plate, wiping up the egg yolk with a corner of buttered toast. "I h-hope that's all right with y-you."

Jeff waved a hand, dismissing the subject. "Knock yourself out, Brains. I'll leave it in your hands from here on out. We need those specs, but I can't deal with the man right now."

"I understand," Brains replied. He glanced at his watch. "Y-You should g-get some breakfast. Your b-boys back on the island will w-want to hear about A-A-Alan."

"I suppose I should," Jeff said with a sigh, "though God knows I have no appetite." He rose from his chair and headed toward the food line. "I'll be back soon."

Brains nodded, and once Jeff was out of sight, picked up the newspaper he had left on one of the other chairs. He folded it over, and began to read the story entitled, "Police Break Local Drug Ring. Billionaire's Son Hospitalized."

"Any news from Dad?"

John rolled his eyes. It was ten at night, nine hours after Jeff and Brains had left. It was the ninth time that Gordon had called down to base to ask the exact same question.

"No, Gords. No news."

"Damn!" Gordon swiveled around in his chair, smoothly turning 360 degrees. "Why haven't you called him?"

"Because for all I know he's getting some sleep at his hotel! Or he's at the hospital and has his phone off."

"But... don't you want to know what's wrong with Alan?"

John sighed heavily. "Of course I do. Scott and Virgil do, too. But until Dad calls us..." The phone to the right of him rang, with the odd march their father favored. "Hey, there he is now!" He reached over and touched a button or two, and turned the screen where Gordon's face could be seen around towards the phone. "Hi, Dad!"

"Hello, John. Oh, hey, Gordon!" Jeff looked weary. "I thought I'd better call before I headed off to sleep here. Are Scott and Virgil with you?"

"Not at the moment, but I think I can get them here quickly," John said. He pulled out his own phone, and began to send a text message to each of his absent brothers.

The theme to Star Wars could be heard outside the door, and Scott turned off his phone as he entered the room. "Dad calling?"he asked, as he waved at John, trying to get his younger brother to move from their father's chair. John just grinned and shook his head.

Virgil came in, wiping his hands on a oily, paint-covered rag. "Hey, Dad!" he called when he saw his father's face.

"Hello, Scott, Virgil." Jeff smiled fondly at his sons. "I'm going to keep this short as I need some sleep before I go back to the hospital. Alan's going to be fine, though he's going to be in some pain for awhile. Nothing broken, mainly bruises, though he may need a touch of plastic surgery on his cheekbone. They're keeping an eye on him for possible concussion, too."

"But how is he?" Gordon asked, his face creased with concern.

Jeff sighed. "Tired, achy, still in shock, I think. Not thinking about what's going to happen, not wanting to think about what has happened. And feeling like he screwed up." He shook his head. "In a way, he did. But then, he wasn't considering himself. He was tricked, made to believe that someone else was in trouble. Did what we all have done at least once: run to the rescue without really pausing to plan or prepare."

"No back up?" Scott asked.

"None with him." Jeff ran a hand through his hair. "He's fortunate to have good friends who came to help him."

"Speaking of friends, how's Fermat?" Virgil asked.

"According to the school, still asleep," Jeff replied. "Brains left a voice message for Fermat to call when he gets up." He stifled a yawn. "I'll be interested in his point-of-view."

The boys glanced at each other. "Dad, we have the recording of what happened, what Fermat heard through Alan's watch," John said. "We also have figured out a cover story about how we got it."

"Really?" Jeff stifled another yawn. "Send me the details. I'm not sure how to handle the timing on it, but it might be a help to the police. Give Art Trumbull a head's up; ask his opinion on it."

"Right," John picked up a data pad and made a note. "Is he at home?"

"Should be. I asked him to leave his son at Wharton until I could talk to him this weekend. He's more likely to be at home than trying to scramble to Europe and back again."

"His son's at Wharton?" Virgil asked, surprised.

"Yes, and he's Fermat's roommate," Jeff said, smiling. He yawned again, and Scott answered him with one of his own. "Okay, boys. Time for all of us to get some sleep. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Dad." "Talk to you soon, Dad." "Sleep well." "Tell Alan to get well for us."

"I will. Goodnight, boys." The call ended, and John turned things off at their end.

"So, who's this Art Trumbull?" Gordon asked, sitting back with his arms folded.

"Tracy Industries lawyer," John said, tapping away, preparing an email. "Better send this on corporate letterhead," he murmured to himself. He glanced up at Gordon. "Would you please download the file so I can attach it?"

"Okay." Gordon moved to one of the other consoles in the room, while Scott moved away from Jeff's desk.

"Sounds like the Sprout isn't going to be able to run track," he said, flinging himself onto the sofa.

"Of course not," Virgil replied, taking up one of the chairs. "Dad's bringing him home."

"I wonder if that's such a wise move," Scott said, looking thoughtful.

"According to the news reports, the New Ashford and Pittsfield police think they've broken the ring and have everyone concerned in custody," John told them, not looking from his work. "Almost ready," he muttered under his breath, "Just need to spell check. Ah! Okay. File attached and away it goes!"

"Why don't you think it's a wise move?" Virgil asked, folding his arms and frowning.

"Well, Sprout had just gotten his feet under him at Wharton this year. Things were looking good; he had track, some new friends..." Scott shrugged. "It was a chance for him to do his own thing, be his own person."

"Not be in the shadow of his older brothers," Gordon said, coming back to the communication screen.

"Make his own mark in the world," John added as he sat back and put his hands behind his head. "All of us have had that chance. It's his turn now."

"But he could do that anywhere," Virgil argued. "In fact, he'd probably do it better at another school, where he doesn't have a brother who went before him."

"You're forgetting the aspect of friends, Virge," Scott said, mimicking John's action. "He'd have to start all over at another school, coming in when everyone in his year has already made their friends and formed their little groups."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed. "Remember what a rough time he had last year, coming to Wharton after that business at his first high school? He hated it! Every time he called, it was 'I want to come home'." He shrugged. "Not this year."

"And what about Fermat?" John asked, plunking one ankle on the opposite knee as he leaned back. "If Alan moves, Fermat's likely to, too. It's not fair to put him through another year like the one he had, with the bullying and all."

"They could both come home; be home educated," Virgil suggested, spreading his hands, palms up and shrugging.

Scott laughed. "I wouldn't want to try and home educate Fermat, that's for sure! I think the only one who could is Brains himself."

"Besides, there's the whole social aspect of school," John said.

"And the fact that we'd probably want kill them both after just a few weeks," Gordon added firmly.

"Sounds like you all think Alan and Fermat should stay at Wharton," Virgil said. "And, for the record, I agree. As long as the danger's gone, they should stay. I just wanted to sound you all out on the arguments for them staying." He shook his head. "We'll need all those arguments if we're going to convince Dad – and Brains – to let them stay."

Scott shook his head. "We're not the ones who have to do the convincing, Virge. We can add our two cents, but in the end, Alan's going to have to convince Dad himself."

"H-Hello, son!" Brains stepped forward and wrapped his long arms around Fermat.

He and Jeff had taken a longish nap, and were now at Wharton. There were signs of the ripples that this latest incident had created; several people were waiting in line to remove their sons from school when Jeff and Brains signed in and received visitor's badges. Mrs. Belvedere had glanced up at them, and given them both a rueful smile.

"When you are ready, I'll be available, Mr. Tracy," she had said with a sigh. The parents in line had looked up at Jeff, startled, making the connections in their heads.

Jeff, feeling uncomfortable, had nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Belvedere. We'll be by later." She had returned the nod, then went back to her work.

"Hi, D-Dad!" Fermat cried, returning the embrace. "H-Hey, Mr. Tracy!" he said, grinning.

"Hackenbacker the hero," Jeff said, grinning and ruffling Fermat's hair. "How're you doing?"

"I'm f-f-f... okay," Fermat told him. "I was e-excused from cl-classes because of wh-what happened. The p-police kept us up really late a-answering questions." He indicated his room with a hand. "No such l-luck for A.J. though, or I'd introduce y-you." His smile faded as he asked, "H-How's Alan?"

"He's been better, but he'll survive," Jeff said, a small smile on his lips. "In fact, we came to get you so you could visit."

"Cool!" Fermat exclaimed. "L-Let me get my j-jacket!" As he opened his closet door, he said, "The guys were going to g-go and see him, today, and asked if I wanted to come. But I t-told them I couldn't... didn't h-have permission."

"Let m-me help you," Brains said, reaching to take the jacket from Fermat.

Fermat shook his head. "I'm g-good, Dad," he said as he expertly put the coat on over his cast. "I've gotten u-used to it."

The two men exchanged glances - Jeff's amused, and Brains's surprised – as they followed Fermat out and to the elevator.

Before they got into the car, Jeff got a phone call. "It's Art Trumbull," he said to Brains as he answered it. Brains nodded, and got into the driver's seat.

"Hello, Art. I take it John sent you the file from last night?"

"Yes!" Art said, his face creasing in a frown. "Is Alan okay?"

Jeff nodded. "He's going to be all right. I wanted to know if that recording could be used as evidence."

"Very likely, though the final decision would belong to the judge," was the reply. "Do you want me to forward it to the local authorities?"

"Yes, please," Jeff said. "I think it will look better coming from you than it would from me personally, or even from me through the corporation."

"I agree," Art said. "I'll take care of that right away." He paused, then asked, "Will you be pulling Alan from Wharton?"

Jeff nodded. "That's what I plan to do, Art. I think it's too dangerous for him to stay here. I'd rather bring him home where I can keep an eye on him."

"It's a good call, Jeff," Art said. "Once I've gotten a few things straightened out here, I'll be heading up to pull Andrew out. Haven't found a school for him yet but, like you, I'd rather keep him safe at home until I do."

Jeff frowned a little at this. He was aware that Arthur Trumbull valued his work above his son, but didn't feel it proper to interfere with the way others brought up their children. Still, he didn't want Arthur to think he himself dealt with Alan in the same way. "I'll likely be looking for a home education program for Alan." He smiled, though it was hard. "He's wanted that for a couple of years now anyway."

Art smiled back, a strained expression. "Good to have the luxury of staying put, isn't it, Jeff? Maybe I can find something in Geneva for Andrew; keep him closer than I have before."

Jeff nodded, pleased that he'd made a point. "Good luck in finding one, then." He glanced up. "I've got to go; we're at the hospital. I'll talk to you soon."

"Right. I'll get that file to the New Ashford authorities. Goodbye, Jeff. Give Alan my get well wishes."

"I will. Goodbye, Art." The call ended, and Jeff sighed. He glanced over at Brains. "I wish... never mind. Let's go see Alan."

As they approached the hospital, they noticed a news crew hovering around outside the front doors. "Who do you think they're waiting for?" Jeff asked.

Brains grimaced. "I'm a-afraid they're p-p-p... waiting for you, Mr. T-Tracy," he said apologetically. "The n-news of Alan's i-i-i... hospitalization has gotten about."

Jeff groaned. "I don't think I can get past them without being recognized, either."

"Let m-me run interference, Mr. Tracy," Fermat suggested. "Then y-you can go down to the e-emergency entrance and m-meet us in the lobby."

"You run interference, Fermat?" Jeff asked, exchanging a puzzled glance with Brains.

"Y-Yeah," Fermat said. "I can a-ask dumb questions for a bit then D-Dad can r-rescue the news c-crew."

The two fathers exchanged glances again, and Brains shrugged. "Okay, Fermat. I'm counting on you," Jeff said.

"Yes, s-sir!" Fermat replied, giving Jeff a sharp salute. "Hackenbacker to the rescue." He tugged on his father's shirt with his good hand. "C'mon, D-Dad."

"Good luck!" Jeff nodded at the pair, and headed for the emergency room entrance.

Fermat ran ahead of his father, and up to the news crew. "Why are you guys h-here?" he boldly asked. "You waiting for s-someone?"

Brains looked on as his son engaged the reporters in conversation. When did he get so confident? he asked himself. He's always been so quiet and self-effacing. Maybe this year at Wharton has been better for him than I realized. He made his way up to the small group, but his intervention turned out to be unneeded as a group of boys pushed open the front doors.

"Hey, Fermat!" one of them, a short, dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks, called. "What are you doing here? You here to see Pinky?"

"Oops! G-Gotta go!" Fermat told the reporters. He joined the boys, then looked back at his father. "C'mon, Dad!"

"C-Coming, son!" Brains picked up his pace and followed the group as Fermat led them back inside.

"G-Guys, this is my Dad," Fermat said, waving in his father's direction. "You can c-call him 'Professor Hackenbacker'. D-Dad, these are my f-friends: Qaeshon and Xavion Lewis, Jason C-Cunningham, and that's A-Alan's roommate, D-Dominic Bertoli."

"Hey, Professor." "Nice to meet you, sir." "Hello, Professor." "Good to meet you, Professor."

"We tried to go up and see Pinky... I mean, Alan," Qaeshon said. "But we couldn't get past the cop at the door."

"D-Don't worry," Fermat said, gazing over Qaeshon's shoulder. "H-Here comes someone who can h-h-h... get us in."

Jeff was nonplussed to find Fermat surrounded by a small group of boys, one of them every bit as tall as he himself was. "Guys, this is Alan's d-dad," Fermat said by way of introduction.

"I think we'd b-better move, son," Brains said, putting his hands on Fermat's shoulders. "Don't want that news crew to, uh, spot Mr. T-Tracy."

"Sure, D-Dad," Fermat said. As they moved toward the elevators, he asked, "Hey, K-Kay, how'd you and Dom get out of c-classes?"

"The police wanted us to come down and see if we recognized any voices," Qaeshon explained, as they boarded the lift. "Dr. MacDonald himself excused us from classes. I think he figured we'd be too much of a distraction to the others." His face brightened. "We saw Erik at the police station, too. He looks pretty good, considering."

"Considering what?" Jason asked, intrigued.

"Yeah," Fermat added. "I was w-wondering why he was at the p-police station. C-Cough it up, Kay."

While Qaeshon sputtered and tried to come up with an answer, Jeff was making connections with the help of Brains. "You're Xavion Lewis, right?" he asked Zave. "The one with the car?"

"Yes, sir," Zave said respectfully.

"Thank you for taking Alan out to get his track shoes," Jeff told him. He smiled wryly. "Reminds me that I need to have a talk with him about that. He didn't need six pairs." Sighing, he added, " Now he won't need any of them."

"Does this mean you're taking Alan out of school, sir?" Jason asked.

There was a sudden quiet in the elevator and all of the boys turned to look at Jeff with what he could only describe as anxious expressions. "I'm afraid so... what's your name?"

"I'm Jason Cunningham, Mr. Tracy."

"Ah. Well, Jason, I'm afraid I am going to pull Alan from Wharton," he said apologetically. "I think he'd be safer recuperating at home, where his brothers and I can keep an eye on him."

The silence on the rest of the ride was deafening. When they got out on the pediatric floor, Jeff led the way to Alan's room, with Brains bringing up the rear. Fermat dropped back to walk with Qaeshon and Dom, and the three of them held a whispered conference.

"Let me go in first and see how he's doing," Jeff said, nodding to the New Ashford officer. "Then you boys can come in and visit."

Zave, as de facto spokesman, nodded. "Okay, Mr. Tracy."

Jeff gave him a brief smile, and went inside.

"Dad! Boy, am I glad to see you!" Alan sounded more alert than before. He tried to grin, but it ended up as a grimace. "When can I get out of here? I'm bored out of my gourd!"

Jeff chuckled. "Good to see you, too, Alan. You're sounding better than you did earlier."

"I got some more sleep," Alan said. "And some food. That always helps." He leaned his head back. "The police have been here, asking questions, taking my statement. Did you know that Pierce was part of a drug ring? I saw it on the vid."

"I haven't spoken to the police yet," Jeff admitted. "I've been more worried about you." He reached out to brush Alan's hair back again. "How are you feeling?"

"Stiff, sore," Alan admitted. He rubbed his belly and made a face. "I don't even want to look at myself in the mirror."

"You're no treat to look at, I'll admit," Jeff said with a sigh. He pulled up a chair. "Who did you talk to at the police department? I suppose I'll have to go down there and ask some questions, find out where they are in their investigation."

"The detective gave me her card," Alan said. "It's on the table over there."

Jeff moved to the bedside table and picked up the card, looking it over. "Thanks, son. I'll give her a call in a bit." He pocketed the card and sat back down. "Your brothers send their love and get well wishes."

Alan sighed. "Man, I wish they'd been with me last night. Things would have been a lot different. I mean, I wouldn't be here, that's for sure.. Between me and Scott, we would have kicked ass."

"You did pretty well for yourself from what I understand," Jeff told him. "And your friends arrived in the knick of time, it seems." He grinned. "Like the Thunderbirds, one of them said."

"That was Jase," Alan said, smiling as much as his abused cheek would allow. Then the smile dropped as the full import of his father's comment sank in. "How... how did you know?"

Jeff sighed, and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed. "We heard it. Your watch wasn't just broadcasting to Fermat..."

"Damn Gordon!" Alan slammed his hand down on the mattress. "I told him not to tell you!"

Jeff's face stilled and an eyebrow rose as he sat up straighter. "You told him not to tell me."

Alan suddenly realized that his father was not at all pleased. He ran his own hand through his hair. "I didn't want you to worry..." He sighed and dropped his head back against the mattress. "I'm sorry, Dad. I just..." His shoulders slumped. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You weren't," Jeff said bluntly. "Fortunately, your brother was." He shook his head. "We can talk about this later. Right now, Brains, Fermat and some of your friends are outside and want to see you." He rose from the bed, and went to the door. "While they're visiting, I'll see if I can find the doctor."

Looking down at his hands, which were picking at the blanket, Alan nodded slightly. Jeff glanced back at him once more, then left.

The boys waited semi-patiently for Jeff to come out, and while they did, Fermat stepped close to his father. "Dad?" he asked quietly.

"Y-Yes, son?"

"Are y-you going to t-t-t... p-p-p... r-remove me from Wharton, too?"

Brains gave his son a thoughtful look. "I've been th-th-th... c-c-c... ruminating about it." He glanced up at the boys who standing in a small knot, discussing something. "B-But as h-hard as it is, and as much as I'd l-love to have you in the l-l-lab with me, I think you're better off h-here."

Fermat's eyes got wide behind his glasses. "R-Really?"

Brains nodded, and exhaled long and forcefully through his nose. "When I s-saw you walk up so b-boldly to those r-reporters, I w-wondered when you'd gotten so f-f-fearless. I realized, it was h-here, with your fr-friends. B-Being here has given you c-c-confidence." He smiled and put an arm around his son's shoulders, squeezing him to his side. "You're growing up, coming into your o-own. It's good for you, and I w-won't take it a-a-a... I won't d-deprive you of it."

Fermat closed his eyes, blinking at sudden tears. He wiped them away, took in a deep breath, and grinned. "Thanks, D-Dad," he said softly. "I love you, y-you know."

"D-Ditto, son." Father and son glanced up as Jeff opened the door to Alan's room.

"Go ahead in, boys," Jeff said, nodding. "Alan wants to see you."

Xavion was the first to the door, but he just held it open and let Fermat and the younger boys go in first. "I'm going to find the doctor and see what's what," Jeff told Brains.

Brains frowned a little. He could tell that Jeff was displeased by something, but couldn't figure out what. "I'll j-just wait here... let the b-boys have some time alone with A-Alan."

Jeff nodded. "I'll be back soon."

Brains watched him stalk off, and shook his head. He gave the police officer a nervous smile, and walked off in search of a water fountain.