Author's Note: This is 25 chapters total, but I'm going to post a few chapters a day when I can. I'm trying to get my older stories moved here and sadly once that is done and I'm on to new material it will be a slower process, but I hope you enjoy the torrent while it lasts! Special thanks to Cherylann Rivers for the reviews and the encouragement on my newer efforts. You made me smile.

CHAPTER 4

"Frank? You okay, son?"

Frank took a deep breath, acutely cognizant of the gun barrel nestled among his ribs. The man behind him was significantly taller than he was, maybe by as much as four or five inches. His left arm circled around Frank's shoulders, yanking the youth back against him. Although Frank excelled at martial arts, every option that flashed through his mind ended in getting shot. He'd have to wait it out and hope for an opportunity.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm fine." Frank kept his eyes fixed on his father's, not certain he could maintain the calm demeanor if he allowed himself a look at either his mother or brother. He could hear the uneven stutter of his mother's breathing and sensed the tense postures of his friends, not to mention Joe's eyes boring into the man threatening him.

A third uniformed militant approached the room, older than the boys but perhaps a dozen years younger than Fenton and Laura. He held nothing more menacing than a clip board, but still radiated an air of authority. He entered and pointed quickly at the other two, sending the first to prop the door open and move further into the room and the second to jerk Frank into the hallway. Definitively out of his father's reach.

"Room 16, Fenton Hardy and family, correct?" The soldier's English was clipped, a cultured voice that would have been more appropriate to an invitation to attend the symphony.

"Correct." Fenton kept his answer brief, hoping for more information before he had to say much else. Was it safer if they thought all four boys were family, or not? He saw both Joe and Chet start to speak and subtly shook his head.

The man inked a check mark on his tablet, apparently satisfied he had accounted for all the room's occupants. "The people of Ranei have reclaimed our land. The corruption of capitalist culture cannot be allowed. You are not welcome here. All noncitizens will be assessed and the innocent deported. Collaborators will be dealt with."

Fenton recognized the rehearsed speech of a fanatic when he heard it and didn't bother to interrupt. He had an uneasy feeling that he was going to fall under the category of collaborators, but there wasn't any chance of dealing with that right now. The prepared lines ended and the soldier began issuing instructions.

"All international travelers will gather in the main lobby in twenty minutes. You will change clothes in the meantime, short sleeved shirts with no pockets, short pants. You are to remain barefoot. Keep your pants pockets empty except for your passports."

The man crossed the room to Laura, an unsavory expression playing on his face. "You may wear a dress if you prefer, as long as it's short sleeved. No purse." He trailed a finger along the length of Laura's neck, his smile widening when anger flared in her eyes.

"Do not touch my wife." Fenton's voice held a low growl that Frank and Joe barely recognized.

"I fear you have very little say in the matter, Mr. Hardy." The leader of the trio tucked Laura's hair behind her ear, pausing long enough to plant a kiss at the corner of her jaw. Softly laughter escaped him as both Fenton and Joe stepped toward him, only to be halted by a sharp hiss from Frank.

The soldier holding Frank sharply twisted his arm behind him, dropping the older boy to his knees and silencing the room. The metal of the gun now pressed into his neck.

"Fortunately for you, Mrs. Hardy, I'm on a rather pressing schedule." He removed his hand from the side of Laura's throat. "Women and children will be on the list of those being deported, so I fear we won't have any further time together, my dear." Gesturing vaguely at the gargantuan man holding Frank before tapping his watch, he added, "Rao will be in the hall to escort you. Sixteen minutes, gentlemen, ma'am."

The trio withdrew from the room, unceremoniously booting Frank in the back and slamming the door as he toppled over.

Joe squatted beside his sprawled sibling, anxiously peering at his face as he wondered if the kick to his spine was hard enough to have caused serious injury.

"Frank? You hurt?"

The elder brother hesitated, aware of burning in his wrenched shoulder and a dull ache in his battered lower spine. Neither seemed incapacitating.

"No, I don't think so."

"Then why aren't you getting up? You sure you're alright?"

"I'm not up because you're practically sitting on me, Joe."

Joe considered his position, an arm stretched across his brother's body for balance while his near forearm rested on the floor, lowering his face within a foot of Frank's. He sheepishly backed off a smidge, offering a hand to his brother as he stood.

Frank scrambled to his feet, ruefully accepting a second pull from Biff to get all the way upright. "I'm fine, just stiff." He rolled his right shoulder, absently rubbing it with his opposite hand.

Satisfied Frank and Laura were relatively unharmed, Fenton checked his watch. Twelve minutes.

"Okay, everybody, listen up." Fenton began spouting a list, hoping no one else noticed it was at least in part to settle his own nerves. "Antagonizing these guys is not going to be the way to go, so we follow their rules for now. Frank, Biff, you two change clothes first. Laura, change in the bathroom, knock before you come out. Joe, get a count of how many men you can see outside the window." Fenton glanced at the fire he'd lit earlier against the unseasonal gloom of the day. "Chet, help me shove these files into the fireplace."

"They won't all burn that fast, Dad."

"I'm aware of that, Joseph, but the fewer pieces of surviving paper linking us with Connor or Moluki's administration the better. Connor's dead," Fenton bluntly stated.

"Sorry." Joe cracked the shutters, quickly taking in the patrolling soldiers and vehicles on the lawns and beach. A group of hotel employees stood huddled to one side, clearly not of their own volition. "Fourteen armed men that I can see from here, as well as an unknown number in five jeeps on the sand. Four people flat on the ground, possibly casualties."

Fenton nodded, absently pulling at his lip. "I'm sorry I snapped at you Joe. We're all agreed that there isn't an acceptable escape route?" His eyes swept the group, hoping to be contradicted. He wasn't.

"Okay. Biff, you trade jobs with Chet so he can change clothes. Joe, you change too, what you're wearing meets the rules but it's still dripping. Frank, gather up everybody's passports."

The boys all nodded, Frank silently handing a blue t-shirt to his father. Fenton had packed some golf shirts, but Frank was willing to bet they all had front pockets. His father hated to be without a pen.

Laura tapped on the inside of the bathroom door, stepping out when a few soft readys answered her. Fenton noted she'd opted for shorts and a t-shirt as well.

Everyone was now passing papers across the room, adding to the burgeoning blaze. Women and children….

"Laura, this is a very traditional society, and they are probably serious about deporting women and children first thing. You need to leave if they offer you the chance."

"Fenton, the idea that I can't help here because I'm female is ridiculous and I have no desire to go anywhere with those men."

"Laura, please." Fenton pleaded with his words. "You know I don't believe any of those stereotypes, but this is not the time for a stand on sexism. If they decided brunettes were harmless, I'd put Frank on the first plane home. I need as many of you safe as can be." He crossed the few steps to his wife, enfolding her in a tight hug as his cheek rested against the silk of her hair. "I love you, Laura."

She nodded her head against his chest, a few tears soaking into the fabric. "I love you, too. I'll go, if that's what you want."

"I never want you to go, honey, but this time…"

She kissed him soundly, then disentangled herself to go to her sons.

"Boys, all of you have kept your heads and I'm proud of you." Fenton made sure his gaze included Biff and Chet; concerned he might not have another opportunity to speak to them. "The next few hours or days are going to be hard and I know you'll want to help, but the best way to do that is for you to be on that deportation list. You're all still in school and if I can make an argument that that classifies you as children, I'm making it."

"Dad…."

"Mr. Hardy…."

Four voices interrupted him at once, stopping when he held up a hand.

"There may not be a way out of here other than that list. None of you are stereotypical self absorbed kids, but for the next hour I need for you to be exactly that. And if you can be a little stupid too, particularly about the last six hours, it wouldn't hurt. Promise me."

Frank exchanged a look with the others, and then nodded once. "Promise."

Chet cleared his throat, slicing into the tension of the room. "Three minutes."

Fenton ran his mental checklist, there was only one other piece of information he wanted to gather before he had to talk with these goons again. Frank unfortunately was already eighteen, having celebrated his birthday the previous fall; Joe's eighteenth was blessedly still eleven months away. But Chet and Biff?

"Chet, when is your birthday? Summer, right?"

Surprised at the change of subject, but sure it must be relevant somehow, Chet answered rapidly. "Yes. I'll be eighteen in July."

"Biff?"

The larger teen shifted, seemingly uncomfortable with the question before mumbling an answer. "Tomorrow."

"Biff? You're going to be eighteen in a day?" Surely he wasn't almost an entire year older than Joe. Although, that might help explain the muscular youth's size.

"No sir. Seventeen."

Even in the grimness of the situation, Fenton had to give the boy an ironic half-smile. How could the friendly mountain better known as Biff Hooper be the baby of the group? "Sorry I forgot the date, Biff. That's fine."

"Not a problem, Mr. Hardy."

Laura had already kissed her sons, an all too brief 'love you' exchanged while Fenton spoke to the other boys. Impulsively she kissed Biff and Chet on the cheek as well. Fenton shook hands with the pair and then pulled in both of his sons for a hug.

Frank held his father's arm another second, warm coffee eyes a perfect match for Fenton's. "What about you? I didn't hear a word about how to get you out of here."

Fenton Hardy stared at the perceptive face of his son, wondering if this was the last day he'd see it. "No, neither did I."

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to be continued...