The Mountain's Hail 4
Reach To The Heavens
by Lady Arkin
URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asl/larkin/mohail04.php
Summary: The story of Jack the soldier and Daniel the Kiowas must now come full circle. There are things to be done before the day is out, people to see, and places to visit
PROLOGUE
He awoke with the same knowledge that he did every morning. In that fraction of a moment, somewhere between waking and sleep, he was content, because he knew Jack was lying next to him and all was well. Often times, he'd even be able to feel Jack's body heat, his scent, and the quiet way he'd exhale just before he'd roll over and possessively grab Daniel's waist. Then Daniel opened his eyes, as he always did and the hard reality of his existence would hit him.
Jack was dead. Daniel had long since buried him next to his sister. And as with every morning, that was a hard reality to face, accept, and look past. The cabin didn't vibrate with life any longer...any more than the mountain did.
Daniel sat up, despite the lethargy that weighed him down. He'd never slept the day away in his entire life; he had no plans to start now. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he felt a dull ache in his chest. He breathed in deep and rubbed his chest. Waking up was hard now-a-days, but today he felt different. It wasn't the usual aches and pains that plagued him. This felt like something else.
He reached for his cane and leaned on it heavily as he struggled to stand up. The sand felt particularly warm under his feet, but for some reason, his shins still felt cold. He gave his body a moment to catch up before he took that first tentative step towards the hot spring. He knew if it hadn't been for its proximity and availability, he wouldn't have been able to keep going. He thanked the Great Spirit, as he did every morning and every evening, that he was able to rejuvenate himself. He even thanked the Martinelli boys for forcibly moving the bed from the bedroom that he had shared with Jack all those years into the bathing room, where the vapors of the hot spring had kept him warm and alive these past two winters.
He stepped carefully across the white sand as he braced himself so that he dug the cane's end into the soft powder. Slowly, he worked his way across to the rickety table. He loosened the buttons on his flannel gown and worked it up over his head. Once off, he draped it over the table and made his way towards the steaming water.
He walked to the crate that he'd been forced to set in the water. It was when his age had first trapped him down in the hot spring, and he'd been unable to get up, that he'd realized that his days were counted. Of course at the time there had been others around to help him. But now, he couldn't afford to get trapped in the hot spring...or anywhere else. One good fall was all it would take.
He reached for the crate and used it and the cane to get himself down onto it. It was sitting in the hot water that he felt his body begin to loosen. His muscles relaxed, and he was finally able to flex his knee out as his body began to release the nighttime stiffness.
He heard splashes and churning of the water, the sounds of someone walking towards him. Daniel looked up and smiled warmly. Young, handsome, and agile again, his Jack sat down in the water near his feet.
Jack mirrored his smile. "It's almost time, Danny.";
Daniel nodded. "I know, my love."; He breathed in the warm vapors of the hot spring deeply and said, "I have one thing left to do today. Then...";
Jack nodded, his eyes never wavering from Daniel's. "Love you"; Jack said in a deep murmur, as if he were trying to convey the intensity of the emotion through sound.
"I've never doubted it for a moment,"; Daniel replied happily.
CHAPTER 1 – TO LIVE IN HIGH COUNTRY
Normally he would make himself breakfast, but today he was far too tired to bother.
As he passed the table, he stopped, as he always did. Once again, he glanced at the newspapers lying there. There were three he hadn't been able to throw out. Three that he wouldn't use as kindling. Three that would stay exactly where they were. In chronological order from left to right, the three papers that had made a large difference in his life these past few years sat quietly. The first paper, Jack had still been alive; 'War Declared', the paper said. The second paper, Jack had just been put in to the ground; 'Peace,' the paper said. The third paper, the story that interested him wasn't on the front as with the other two: the story was a small article buried towards the back. That page was flipped open, and the words, 'Ireland Declared Free State' were neatly printed at the top of the article. He kept it because Daniel knew it would have been highly important to his lover. The only other items on the table were a neatly folded piece of paper weighted down by a stone. He'd only added the single sheet of paper the night before, after Anthony had left him.
Daniel nodded and turned away.
He shuffled to the front door and opened it. The yellow morning light greeted him across the expanse of his old porch. He breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of the apple blossoms. Their scent seemed to get stronger with every passing year. A part of him was more than glad he'd made it past the winter to see the first few blossoms. He sat down on his rocking chair and he leaned back and watched the delicate little flowers. Daniel knew he'd never again see the first fruit of the year, and that was fine. The blossoms were enough for him.
A deep rumbling noise shook him from his musing. It shot like nothing else could over his home and off into the far distance of the atmosphere. He'd long since given up on walking out from under the roof and staring into the sky as he tried to either see or figure out what it was that made the sound. He knew there was nothing to see. For years, much like a few of the other things he'd heard from time to time, he'd wondered what it was. No more.
Jack had still been alive when Luigi Martinelli had first ridden his horse up the mountain. The first time, he came with news of the new tel-e-phone that was being installed in the city below and how wondrous it was to be able to speak with people from all over. Then it was the aut-o-mo-bile. Luigi had raved about the aut-o-mo-bile that had puttered and sputtered its way through the town, expelling thick smoke and frightening the horses. He'd described the thick smell...and how exciting it had been to see a machine moving on its own. Then he'd come with a newspaper reporting on the first aer-o-plane.
In the least, in the very least, one mystery was solved. Daniel knew what it was that flew over the cabin every day.
He knew the rumbling sounds that went by the porch from time to time and up towards the stables were trucks like the ones that he'd seen in his vision all those years ago. He knew the smell and the sounds by heart. It was the sounds from overhead that had puzzled him.
None of it was as much a shock to Daniel as it was to Luigi. The boy had used his inheritance and a small loan from Daniel to go off and work with cars. Jack had shaken his head disapprovingly; Jack had always disapproved, thinking that Daniel was far too generous. But it had made Daniel happy to help the boy. And though Daniel didn't expect it back, Luigi had paid back the loan to the cent a year after it was given to him. According to Anthony, the eldest Martinelli boy, Luigi was doing quite well selling aut-o-mobiles in the city.
Jack hadn't been impressed by the 'shocking' advances in technology. He'd turned his nose up and called it all pig swallow and nonsense. It was Daniel who had patted the boy on the head and encouraged him to do whatever made him happy as Jack barely looked up from his whittling.
Daniel smiled. Anthony had been around more than usual. The blasts from the mining that had gone on twenty years prior and a small quake had crumbled the tightly walled privacy that had been theirs for so long. People knew where he lived, not that many cared.
Anthony, however, did. He'd inherited his father's debt, as it were. Anthony, like his father, felt that he owed everything to Jack, Murray, and Daniel; the debt, imaginary or not, kept the boy beholden enough to visit regularly. And as he'd grown old, after everyone else had gone on the journey, as he'd been left behind: Daniel realized just how much that was worth to him.
His last visit was with news. Tentatively the boy had stood, refusing to sit until he'd finished saying what he'd come to say.
"Daniel...Sir...Mr. Jackson,"; after fifty years, to hear a fifty-six year old man stuttering around as if he were still six was definitely an attention getter, "I know my family owes you so much. And I know how much your home means to you. I would never suggest this if I didn't think...";
Daniel looked up, "Just say it, boy.";
Anthony had looked a bit ashamed as he'd said, "I know you have no love of the military, but our economy hasn't been doing so well since the gold ran out, and tourism hasn't really been making up the difference like we'd hoped it would.";
Daniel waited.
"What I'm trying to say, sir, is that we've been trying to court new business here. The military has shown an interest in building a base. We need it,"; Anthony had said breathlessly. "And we...";
That was where the boy's courage had failed him.
It was Daniel who had said, "And you're hoping I'll sell my land, so they can build.";
"They're looking at other properties,"; Anthony quietly added.
"But they'll settle on mine,"; Daniel had murmured, quite sure.
Full of remorse, Anthony had said, "Uncle Daniel-"
"You know this mountain is a graveyard.";
"Yes,"; Anthony said, "And I'll be very sure to tell them that-"
"You'll tell them nothing,"; Daniel said evenly. "When they come, you will let them do what they have to."; Daniel had looked off at the budding apple trees. "Not a word. That will be your trial, boy. You'll stand there and let them.";
The boy had left, and Daniel and his thoughts again worked out the implications of the hundred little things at once. Today was the day Anthony had promised to arrive with the surveyors. And as Daniel was concerned, it was the moment they set foot on his mountain that the spell would be broken, and a new one cast.
He got up from his chair, wincing and struggling with his cane until he was up and straightened out enough to take a step. He made it to the railing Jack and he had put in years ago, and he leaned against it. If he listened to the wind, he could still hear Jack whooping and hollering as he ran up the path all the way to the door.
"Jack! What happened?";
"Bear!"; Jack had shouted out in jubilation as he ran for his rifle. "It destroyed one of the honey boxes.";
"And this is a cause for celebration?"; Daniel asked, confused, as he watched Jack load his rifle.
"The hell it isn't!"; Jack had said with a great big smile. "You won't let me kill a bear otherwise, would you?";
"Of course not, bears are sacred,"; Daniel had declared again for the thousandth time.
"Not if he attacks me,"; Jack said as he slipped in the last bullet.
Daniel's voice rose, "Are you seriously telling me that you're going to go outside and provoke a dangerous animal, just so you can kill it?";
"No,"; Jack said patiently, "I'm going to go outside and provoke a dangerous animal so I can put a nice new bearskin rug by our bed. My feet get cold.";
"No!";
"Get out of the way, Daniel.";
"This is murder!";
"No. This is getting around the rules.";
Daniel could still remember Jack physically picking him up and moving him out of the way, so he could get out the door.
Daniel had rushed out after Jack, only to find Jack standing on the porch, pointing the rifle at the bear. The bear in turn was just standing there with its sticky, honey-smeared face poking between two of the porch's rails. It had licked its face and blinked at them as it stared.
"Come on!"; Jack had said encouraging it. "Do something!";
The bear yawned and continued to stare.
"I think he's sweet,"; Daniel had said.
"It's not sweet! It's a cold-blooded killer! Look at him! He's biding his time!";
The bear sauntered from the cabin and suddenly disappeared from sight. Daniel stepped closer to get another look at it.
"Are you crazy?"; Jack demanded as he pulled Daniel behind him.
And that's when they saw him. The bear was lying back on the grass with its paws in the air as he rubbed his back in the green.
"I think that the cold-blooded killer needs a nap,"; Daniel had said before laughing.
"That's not funny,"; Jack snapped, clearly agitated.
"Actually," Daniel said, as he reached up and pulled down a string of dried apple rings, "it's rather hilarious, when you think about it.";
Daniel dropped the string of apples near the bear's head. The bear craned its neck until it could bite the apples and pull them closer so he could lick at them.
"Wonderful,"; Jack had griped. "Now we'll never get rid of it! And I won't get my new rug! And we have another mouth to feed!";
They didn't. He didn't. And they did.
The words, "What kind of a bear are you, anyway?"; could be heard shouted across the porch on more than one occasion in their home. It never failed to make Daniel laugh.
Bear, as Jack called him, arrived every year after the apple harvest and just before his winter hibernation. Bear was spoiled rotten, mostly by Jack. Daniel knew it, and Jack knew that Daniel knew it, but he still hid the fact that he fed Bear. Daniel pretended not to notice so Jack could continue to complain about Bear.
Bear in turn had followed Jack around everywhere he went until the day the animal died. Daniel could still remember walking out that morning. He'd found Jack standing near Bear, just staring down at the great big furry creature lying on the grass under a tree. From thirty feet away, Daniel had known Bear had passed away.
Jack never did get that bearskin rug he always wanted. They dug Bear's grave next to where he had died. They pushed him into it and covered him over. Jack even carved Bear a grave marker that said, "He didn't make a proper bear, but he made a damn fine pet.";
Daniel stepped down carefully from the porch, one step at a time, until he was on the ground. He walked down the path to the grave marker. It had fallen back until it looked bowed and weathered. The red paint Jack had used was long since worn away. But Daniel remembered.
CHAPTER 2 – BLOOD ON MY FEATHERS
"Good Bear,"; Daniel said to the old grave before walking a few steps away to look down the path. Once upon a time, the path had led down to the orchard. A small path led from it towards the climb up, the only way into the mountain valley at one time. Now the path from his home led down away from the orchard and to the main road that led into the city he wanted no part of.
As he stood there, he saw his grandchildren. Clear as day, he could still see them walking up the path in their Army uniforms. One by one, they had all returned home to tell him of the last great hunt. It was when Luigi had made the trip up the mountain with the paper declaring war that Daniel had first started to be afraid. And his fears had been realized when Ba'o had caught sight of the headline. The boy had run all the way down the path, into the stable, to the long passages, and down into the mountain to bring word to the others. The country was at war.
Daniel had done what he could to deter them. He'd tried to make them see that they'd be heading into a massive war for a country that cared nothing for them. His protests had fallen on deaf ears. His boys were grown men; there wasn't even a question as to whether or not they would go. Twelve of his grandchildren were boys; all of them were born in the warrior tradition. All of them had trained from the cradleboard in the old ways, and they were all ready to fight. Five of his grandchildren were girls, and like their Aunt Tabananica, they wanted to serve as well. As much as he would have preferred to have brought up meek, passive, little girls, that wasn't their path. They demanded to go.
That was the day Jack and Daniel had first told Anthony about the mountain. That was the first day they'd asked for something in return. And when Anthony returned, it was with white clothes for the children and grandbabies. He and Jack had dressed them all themselves, taking away the buckskin for cotton. Then Jack had sat them down and told them what they should expect from the military and from the enemy. Jack told them the boys would become scouts, their lives would be in danger, and they would be valued only as far as they could be used. It was up to them to survive, and make it back. The girls were told they would go in as nurses, to fight, stand tall, hold their honor, and be brave.
All of them walked down the mountain that day with Anthony. They signed up for the Great War.
Slowly, one by one, they all came back, wearing their uniforms. One by one, they walked up the path to the house with smiles on their faces and a story to tell. And each and every time, Daniel held his little ones tightly, kissed each one, and told them how much they were loved and honored before they faded away from his grasp into the wind.
From time to time, he still saw them. At one point or another, he saw them all. The dead were always near. It was just the way of the mountain.
Daniel slowly walked back down the path towards the house. He took one last look at it, though his eyes weren't what they used to be. He pushed his spectacles up higher and squinted in the morning light. The cabin was all but falling apart now-a-days. Without Jack's help, he couldn't maintain it any longer. Anthony had said he would come up in the next few weeks with men to do repairs, but what was the point?
In a way, he was glad things were going to turn out the way they would. This way, Anthony wouldn't have to decide what to do with the cabin. There was nothing else for them to do...except follow the last wishes he'd written down last night as his last Will and Testament.
Daniel nodded his head. It had been a good home. But now he had to see if his wishes had been followed, if everything had turned out, if all was well with his son.
He shuffled past the house and walked the path that ran past the side of the cabin up towards the cave. They'd used it as a stable for years, until the last of the horses had died. And while he'd been alive, Murray had used it as a forge.
Daniel stopped at the entrance and leaned back against one of the rock walls to rest for a few minutes. The climb up wasn't a sharp incline, but at his age, it was enough to tire him out. His knees hurt, and he felt he needed to rest.
It was the sound of a dog that caught his attention. Daniel reached down for his gold pocket watch, which had been Jack's. He opened the face and squinted down at it. Seven o'clock on the dot. He knew it was time for the changing of the guard.
For a moment a wave of dizziness swept past him, and the cave around him melted away into the smooth stone walls of the base. A few feet in front of him, a guard in a uniform stood speaking with another guard, who was holding a big dog on a leash. The checkpoint behind both men always struck Daniel as being unremarkable for the entryway to something so grand. The dog was the only one to notice Daniel and it quickly began to bark at him. The wave pulled back, as they always did, and the vision was washed away until he could see nothing but the rough cave he knew so well.
Daniel coughed a few times as he cleared his head. The first few pulls were always the hardest; and he told himself he just had to get through the worst of it one more time.
He straightened up and shuffled across the rocky ground into the stable. The stalls had been empty for many years. The forge had been out of use since Teal'c had died. Daniel stopped there and ran his hand over the sturdy brick-lined pit. The last coals Teal'c had lit for his forge were still where they'd grown cold. Neither Jack nor he had had the heart to clean it out. Everything was where Teal'c had left it. Spider webs, dust, and time were all that had meddled with his things, because neither of them ever had. Anthony and his brothers had been forbidden from going near the cave, and as far as Daniel knew, none of them had ever set foot in it.
Daniel proceeded in a little further and picked up the horseshoe that was still sitting on the edge of the forge. Teal'c hadn't finished working on it. He could still remember walking into the forge to call Teal'c to dinner. The man had just been standing, staring into the still live coals.
"I made venison stew and cornmeal cakes, Teal'c.";
Teal'c had said nothing.
"Teal'c?"; Daniel had said as he came in closer.
"There were claim jumpers,"; Teal'c had mumbled, his eyes never wavering from his forge.
It had taken Daniel a moment to sort out what Teal'c had said, what he meant.
"East,"; Teal'c had said with a dumbfounded nod, "over the rise of the valley past the gulley. I guess they were hoping to do a little mining without anyone noticing. They shot at me, I think,"; Teal'c said turning towards him. "I killed at least two of them.";
It was the last time he'd seen Teal'c.
They found Teal'c's body just where he'd said he'd be, still holding a rifle in his hand, a bullet wound in the head. Jack and Daniel had still been young enough to carry Teal'c's large body back. They carried the man all the way inside the mountain and buried him next to all the others. And yet, Daniel always felt closest to the man there in front of the forge.
Daniel patted the unfinished horseshoe. He turned and continued along.
At the back of the cave a tremor years ago had collapsed a wall making an easy entrance into the mountain's belly. It was the only reason he could still go there: his old legs would never have taken him the other route along the mountain's face. Daniel stopped at a lantern and pulled out the only useful invention any white man had come up with to date, a matchbox.
Once his lantern was shining, he picked it up and began the trip down into the mountain. Instead of taking the direct route down, he took another passage that led to a hidden hot spring that stank slightly of sulfur. Toward his last days, Jack's arthritis had taken its toll on him. He'd been near crippled from the pain, but he'd refused to slow down because of it. The spring had helped him more than the one by their bed.
It was a long, slow climb down. Over the years, most of the passages had been cleared of debris and made easier to negotiate, but the long descent was hard on old bones. After so many years, Daniel really didn't need the lantern, but it was better to be safe. He'd never trusted his footing, even with his cane. In his younger years, he'd taken far too many falls to trust his own feet. His last fall, just before the last winter, had left him using a cane and in constant pain; the lantern was a good idea.
He used the wall for balance where he could and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He stopped often and leaned on the cool rock walls. Time bent over him and made him cautious. It also washed him in more visions twice during that trip, additional reasons to be careful. The first time it happened, he was resting, trying to catch his breath. The feeling swept over him suddenly. It happened so quickly, that he hadn't received any warning. He sagged heavily against the rock as the intrusion barreled through his head.
He went from deep darkness broken only by the hazy light of his lantern to the bright white light of the base. The silence of a dead place suddenly erupted into ringing telephones in someone's office. Daniel shielded his eyes in the blaring light and looked around. Luckily, happily, the flash didn't last long. It was quickly swept away from him, and he was left leaning against the rock face, alone again.
He continued downward. Three rest stops later, it happened again. Thankfully he wasn't in an office space with loud noises. He found himself in a hallway. He grabbed hold of a bulkhead and leaned against it. He told himself he just needed a moment...just to catch his breath.
As he stood there, he realized where he was. The last time he'd found himself in that particular hallway had been a few days prior, when he'd last visited his son. He'd turned to the sounds of footfalls. A striking young woman had walked towards him. He had been as amazed by her features as he was by the fact that she wore an officer's uniform. She had walked past him and stopped at a set of metal double doors. She slid a card across the top of a little box on the wall and pressed a button.
Daniel had leaned forwards a little and studied her profile. A moment later the double doors had opened and she stepped forward.
"Tabananica?"; Daniel had said to the girl as she turned in the enclosure to face him.
The woman's head had turned just as the doors had started to close. For a glimmer of a moment Daniel was almost sure that she had seen him. But he knew that was highly improbable.
The hallway faded away as it usually did until the rough walls were back. His eyes burned in his skull for a moment. He closed them and waited until he became accustomed to the hazy light and enveloping darkness before proceeding down the passage.
It was almost another hour before he started to smell the sulfur on the occasional drafts that swept through the passage. He kept walking until he found the correct off-shoot from the main passage. Down ten feet and to the right, Daniel was able to breathe in deeply of the faint rotten smell that surrounded him. He swallowed hard and then walked close to a high rock. He sat himself down at a good place that wouldn't be too much trouble to pick himself up.
Jack had been slumped back against the wall on the floor in front of him. Daniel had walked into the enclosure and seen him. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off his beloved husband, not even when he heard Jack's voice say, "It didn't hurt. I've got good news, though; my knees and my shoulder don't hurt anymore.";
"Good,"; Daniel said again, like he'd said before.
Daniel had buried Jack next to Tabananica at the very bottom of the mountain's valley. Jack had always said it was a good place. Tabananica didn't mind having Jack next to him, so long as Daniel was laid there, too. She'd always liked Jack, despite the fact that he was white, but she also didn't want to have to spend the rest of eternity listening to his bad jokes without Daniel to run interference. It was just better that way, Daniel had to agree.
It was while he was sitting there on that rock when another wave hit him. Daniel felt himself fall over onto his side. He felt the softness of a mattress and not the sharp pain of hard rocks, but it took a few minutes for him to understand where he was. He pushed up from the bed and looked around. Instead of finding himself surrounded by the smell of sulfur and dark rocks, he saw a medical place. The smell of the large room was rank with the chemical medicines that whites preferred. The infirmary looked clean, organized, and devoid of people.
Daniel tested his foot on the even floor and carefully let his weight settle onto his sore knees before he found the courage to let go of the metal bed rail to stand on his own. His knee hurt. His legs hurt. His feet hurt. He took in a long, deep breath and tried to take some comfort in the fact that he had no intention to climb back out of the mountain.
No sense in wasting the time he had left.
Daniel found his cane leaning against the bed. He picked it up and began the journey out of the infirmary. He knew more or less where he was. He had to go down several more levels in order to find his boy. There were things that were still left to do.
CHAPTER 3 – TOUCH THE MOUNTAIN TOP
With age comes patience. Daniel realized just how true that was as he stood in the lifting device. He would have much preferred to have been able to take the stairs that he knew were at different ends of the halls, but he also knew he couldn't access them. Instead, he'd stepped into the lift and waited. He knew he needed the twenty-seventh level. He leaned back against the wall, watching and waiting for a very long time. The first soldier who stepped in took him up to the fifteenth level. The next one took him down to eighteen. The third took him down further to twenty six and the one after that took him back up to nineteen. Then he stood in the boxy enclosure for a full fifteen minutes until someone else came along. This time it was a woman. To his great luck she pressed the right button and took him down to twenty-seven.
Daniel stepped out with the young female soldier and then shuffled along at his own pace. He hated to admit it, but the base was far easier to traverse than the raw mountain paths. He also appreciated the heavy bulkheads that lined every passageway at predictable intervals; they were good for leaning against.
Daniel walked to the end of the passage and turned left, then right. At the far end, he found the door he was looking for. He smiled when he found it open. He didn't hesitate to walk right inside.
He found his son sitting behind the same desk he'd left him at two days prior.
"Hello, Lapa,"; Daniel said to the man who looked up at him with a great big smile.
"Sir,"; a young soldier said, walking into the room, "I have the front gate on the line. There's an unscheduled shipment from Nellis.";
"Yes, Lieutenant,"; Lapa said. "Grant access, have it unloaded, and then turn it over to Master Sergeant Siler. He knows what to do.";
"Sir, yes, sir,"; The young man saluted before turning and shutting the door behind him. "I wasn't sure if you'd return.";
"I told you I'd do my best, Lapa.";
Daniel watched Lapa breathe in and let go of something. "The truck my lieutenant just mentioned, it's delivering an experimental titanium iris.";
Daniel smiled, "You'll put up a wall."; He nodded approvingly. "Very good.";
"We had to do something. I have a friend who is working with some experimental technology at Nellis; I talked my way into an iris for the 'gate as fast as they could build it.";
"So we're safe?"; Daniel asked, as he lowered himself down into one of the chairs.
Lapa leaned back in his chair and looked quite thoughtful as he considered the question. "Yes. For the moment. There's no way to really know if they know where our planet is located. So long as they don't have long-range ships that can fly here, we'll be safe enough...for now.";
Daniel watched him for a few moments before asking, "What did the President say?";
Lapa turned his chair a hair and then leaned back a bit farther. "Dealing with foreign threats is one thing. Dealing with an extraterrestrial threat with superior technology is quite another. In about twenty minutes I have a scheduled conference call with the President and the Joint Chiefs. We're to discuss how we're going to handle this situation; how we're going to protect our world.";
Daniel smiled, "And you forgot to mention all the possible weapons technologies that could be stolen from the enemy.";
Lapa smiled. "Stolen is a harsh word. I'd probably say appropriate.";
Daniel felt the smile fall off his face. "And what will you say to these men, when they look to your input? You're closer to the Gateway than anyone else. They will rely on your opinions in this matter. Have you formed any yet?";
"These aliens are far more advanced than we are. If our previous dealings with Ra are any indication, they're a major threat. They've already enslaved our world once; I haven't seen anything to indicate that they'd have a second thought against doing it again.";
"You want weapons,"; Daniel simply said.
"We need weapons. We need technology, better ways to protect our citizens.";
"And what else?";
Lapa was shrewd enough to listen and not question. Daniel approved of the man his son had become in this life. He was smart, cautious, and brave; a son to be proud of.
"We've done this before, Lapa. The last time the United States ventured out into unknown territory, they did so enslaving and killing their way through land that wasn't theirs. A hundred nations lost people, lands, generations, future, and hope. Did we learn anything, Lapa?";
Lapa was still silent.
"Now, instead of traversing a continent, you plan on opening a doorway to heaven and plundering a thousand worlds. I wouldn't be surprised if most of the worlds on the other end led the same simple lives my people did. How will you walk into their worlds? As conquerors? As friends? As allies? What do you expect to get out of this venture?";
Lapa folded his hands in front of him on the desk and leaned forward. "I'd like to sit here and tell you we could take on anything out there, but the truth is we can't. These aliens have scared me. If they turn their attention to destroying us, I know we'll find ourselves in a heap of trouble.";
"What do you need?"; Daniel asked.
"Allies, weapons, defenses: in that order.";
Daniel was quiet for a moment. When he was ready to speak, he breathed in deeply before saying, "My father saw the destruction of the west by white civilization. He wanted to study all of the nations and tribes. He wanted to preserve the identity of people who were dying because of greed, disease, and ignorance. Unfortunately, he didn't get that chance. But the idea was there.";
"I can stress scientific and cultural assessments as a secondary goal when we contact other worlds."; Lapa paused before saying, "That's funny,"; Lapa said to himself as he smiled. "A few minutes ago, Colonel O'Neill led a team through the stargate to the place we think the aliens gated to. I'm more than a little pissed at Doctor Jackson at the moment, but he's a linguist, and he's shown quite a bit of backbone throughout all this.";
"Probably had plenty of time to learn the language, on that world he was on."; Daniel saw Lapa nod, so he added, "And, he probably knows a bunch of other languages. The perfect person to help bridge cultural differences.";
Lapa looked up at him; the argument was already playing across his face. "He isn't military.";
"He wasn't when he was sent through originally. Didn't you tell me before that he was the one who opened the 'gate? And the directive your teams are taking isn't solely military in nature. You'll need civilians, lots of them.";
Lapa opened his mouth to make a rebuttal, but the argument died. With every passing second, Daniel knew he'd won.
When he did speak again, Lapa simply said, "Captain Carter doesn't have enough field experience to lead a unit, but if Doctor Jackson proves himself out on the field, I'll consider putting him and the Captain on my first contact team. I've already decided that Colonel O'Neill should head it. Major Kowalski can head the second team.";
"And you'll need a negotiation team that is capable of going out and dealing with these worlds once your first team has met them.";
"And a Search and Rescue, combat ready units, scientific and mineralogy experts,"; Lapa let his head fall back onto his chair's headrest.
As Lapa continued to think, Daniel began to think out loud, "Will you keep all the units small like the first team? Or will you make each one different?";
"I suppose small three or four man teams will do for now. I'll increase the number if it's needed later.";
And then Lapa was suddenly quiet again. When he finally spoke, it was to say, "Do you know I was supposed to be retired in a few weeks? I was supposed to oversee the base's shutdown, and then I was going to walk away.";
"No,"; Daniel said confidently. "You won't walk away from here. The mountain is your place. The President will offer you the role of gatekeeper, and you'll accept it.";
"You sound sure.";
"That's because I am,"; Daniel said quietly. "I don't know what this base has been used for up to this point, but from now on it serves as a point of protection. The Gateway is only a doorway, Lapa. Good or bad can come through it. It will be up to you to see to it that our tribe is assembled to fight, and to defend. You'll lead, but you have to be willing to accept all that it entails.";
"Our tribe?"; Lapa asked.
Daniel smiled. "Our tribe,"; Daniel repeated. "Right now, the missing body is that of my brother's. He should be here. I know he wouldn't miss something like this, but I have yet to see him. As soon as I see him, I'll be able to leave.";
"This is the first time you've mentioned a brother.";
"Murray isn't an easy person to describe.";
Lapa looked at him funny. "I thought it was wrong to mention the names of the dead.";
"It is, but Murray wasn't his true name. Murray was what he allowed the whites to call him. His true name was too dangerous to use. In that life, he was a runaway slave.";
"What does he look like?";
Daniel smiled. "How would I know? Murray could come in any size, shape, or form. He might even come as a woman this time. Who am I to speak for him?";
"Then how do either of us know what to look for?";
"Simple,"; Daniel said as he leaned back. "Murray is and always will be a warrior. He is as graceful and gentle as he is fierce and loyal. The next person you meet that fits that criteria will be he. You'll know him when you see him, Lapa. Of this I am completely sure.";
Lapa fell back into his chair with a hint of a frown on his face. After a few seconds he asked, "And when you say brother you don't mean someone you're related to, right?";
"The first time I saw him, he was the enemy. Dressed as the enemy. Armed as the enemy. And he risked his life to save my village. This is how I knew that he was special. Will always be.";
~ ~ ~
Daniel had listened for more than an hour as Lapa negotiated with and informed his superiors on the current situation, offered suggestions, and the ideas that the both of them had conjured.
The stagnation of sitting tired him, and Daniel felt the need to walk. He didn't like having to move away, but the pain radiating through his limbs would only increase, and he knew it. He heaved himself up with the use of his cane and slowly straightened himself out before attempting the first step. He'd felt more stooped over and old in the past year than he'd felt in the past twenty. It was because of Jack's death, and he knew it. He'd just never really recovered from losing his husband. He'd carried the loss in him like a sore, and he knew that it had never healed and taken its toll on him.
When he reached the wall, Daniel removed his glasses and wiped his face with his hands. He rubbed his eyes and sighed softly to himself before he realized he'd even done it. After so many years of hiding pain from his children and grandchildren, he found the habit also extended to hiding it from Lapa, too.
There came from behind him lots of 'yes, sirs' as Lapa concluded the call to his superiors.
Daniel shuffled around, walking along the wall
Lapa hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair looking altogether too pleased with himself.
";It's finished,"; Lapa said as he dropped his head into his hands. "Or rather, it's begun.";
"Well?";
"The President likes my suggestions. There was some opposition from the Joint Chiefs. I'm quite sure they'll keep the knowledge of the stargate top secret. I'm going to remain in command until further notice."; Lapa nodded. "You were right; the President offered me the command.";
Daniel smiled as he shuffled back to his chair and lowered himself down.
"It seems the President agrees with my assessment of the potential scientific knowledge and intrinsic cultural value that can be gotten from these kinds of missions. He'll officially issue a directive that will provide us with a mandate as soon as he can. Until further notice, I'm under orders to protect Earth, acquire allies, and find technology.";
Daniel finished settling into his chair when he heard Lapa say, "Tell me a story?";
Daniel didn't hesitate to ask, "What kind? I know many stories.";
"Tell me about my mother? In this life, my mother's been gone a long time. Tell me what she was like?";
Daniel took in a breath before he simply said, "I didn't know her, Lapa. When we came upon your parents, they were already dead. To this day, I don't know what happened. We entered a milling town, a disgusting little place of no worth. As we were leaving, we saw a wagon. I saw a man lying in the dirt. I went to help. When I turned him over, he was dead. In the nearby wagon, the woman was dead, too. When I took a closer look, I saw a little arm. I turned her over, and you began to cry.";
Daniel paused for a moment and then added, "I know they prepared for you. I know you were well loved. I know you were well fed by her. And even without ever having met them, I know they wanted a better life for you than they'd had. They had the marks of slaves on their skin. Like many others, they were risking everything to find a better life.";
Quietly, Lapa said, "I meant your wife.";
Daniel smiled as he asked, "What makes you think I ever had a wife?";
Lapa studied him for a moment before saying, "When we last spoke, you said you were a widower.";
"I am.";
"But you just said you've never had a wife!";
"I haven't. I was married to a man, Lapa.";
It took a moment for the realization to set into Lapa's features. Daniel saw it flutter across his face, and then settle in as he simply said, "Oh.";
Daniel leaned forward and told, "We were married for fifty years."; He thought about that statement, and then sadly he reiterated, "Well, three weeks shy. He had a heart attack, and left me all alone."; Daniel stared off for a moment before he realized that he had stopped talking. When he did speak, it was to add, "Kiowas children have a very close relationship with their mother. But, it's the father who pushes them to succeed.";
Daniel nodded as old memories flooded him. "There weren't many survivors, Lapa. I walked away from my village with twenty-nine children ranging from seven years old to still in the cradleboard. There were ten women, and three of them were pregnant. Ten old people. The warriors were all dead; the young men that defended the village that day did so with their lives. The trip to the safety of this mountain took several children and old ones from us.";
Daniel felt the same pain in his heart that he always felt when he thought of it. "Only twenty-one children reached adulthood. Because there weren't many men, each boy took several wives. A few of the boys died before they could become fathers. Every birth was special to us, each and every one, because there were so few. Eventually, there were seventeen great-grandchildren. But when the Great War came, they all decided they were going to fight. They left, they fought, and they all died.";
There was a long silence, which Lapa broke when he said, "You were my mother, weren't you?";
Daniel looked up and nodded once. "He and I had a hand in raising all of you. There wasn't much choice. Even Murray helped. There were so many children; those were happy days. The old people were the first to die. Then several of the children died."; Daniel looked away uncomfortably as he said, "You died.";
"How?";
Daniel met his eyes and said, "You were very adventurous. You liked climbing the sides of the mountain. You were certain that one day your legs would be strong enough to take you all the way to the very top."; Daniel paused. When he was able to continue he said, "One day you were late to dinner. I went out and started calling for you. Eventually, I saw you running towards me. I was so happy to see you, I didn't even notice.";
"Notice what?";
"Notice,"; Daniel said hesitantly, "that you were dead."; He met Lapa's eyes to gauge just how much the man believed. When he didn't see immediate condemnation, he continued. "You sat down as we began to eat, but you didn't touch anything, and you didn't eat. Eventually, I started crying and asked you how it happened. You said that you'd lost your footing and hit your head. When you got up, you saw your body and decided to come home before you upset me."; Quietly, Daniel added, "We buried you next to Murray. By then, he'd already been dead a full year. We knew he'd protect you.";
"What does Lapa mean?"; Lapa asked after a few moments.
"Baby,"; Daniel said with a smile. "We didn't know what to call you. I called you Lapa, and then your father did, too. It stuck.";
Lapa sat forward and seemed to look into him as he said, "That wasn't my name, was it?";
"Of course not; I told you it's wrong to use the name of the dead. Your name died with you.";
"What was it? If it was my name, then there's no harm in telling me now, is there?";
Daniel gave this some thought. Eventually, he said, "I'll think about this for a while longer, before I decide whether to tell you or not.";
CHAPTER 4 - HOPE FOR THE FUTURE
Quietly, Daniel said, "That was Murray, and you know it as well as I.";
"He's the enemy,"; Lapa hissed as he secured his office door and took his seat behind the desk.
"He was the enemy the last time, too."; Daniel said frimly. "And forgive me if I'm wrong, but didn't he walk in and turn his weapon over? Didn't he help your tribe out of a bad situation, thereby putting himself at great risk? Hasn't he, by his deeds, proven that he is someone whom you can trust?";
"One act does not turn someone against the leaders they've followed all their lives. That's why it's called spying.";
Daniel watched him for a moment, "I will not allow you to do away with a man as valuable as he is.";
"He won't be thrown away.";
"Then what? Will you experiment on him? Take your people's revenge on his flesh?";
"My god, you're dramatic,"; Lapa said as he turned away and opened a drawer. "My wife never made as big a stink as you do. Are you always like this?";
"Don't you dare try to change the subject! If your father wasn't able to distract me, you didn't stand a chance. Now, I demand that you answer my questions.";
Lapa put a paper folder on his desk and then stood. He paced and in a measured tone said, "People don't demand of me, sir. I am a General-"
"I do not care! I've raised you, cried over you, wiped your nose, and your bottom! I've earned the right to speak as I wish. And I will."; Daniel let the anger settle a bit as he crossed his arms and said, "Now tell me what you plan for my brother. I won't be going anywhere until I know he is safe and has joined his people.";
"He isn't ours,"; Lapa said quickly. "He came through that 'gate-"
"That was his master's will, not his.";
"Well, he could still be following his master's will. There are no assurances he can give me regarding his loyalty.";
"Your Colonel O'Neill trusts him.";
";One well placed spy is all it takes.";
"The others he saved trust him, too.";
"And it's my job to make sure the right decisions are made."; Lapa said, turned away.
Daniel could tell he was starting to wear the man down. It was only a matter of time. "Let's analyze this properly.";
"Let's not.";
"Why don't you trust him, exactly?";
"He's the enemy,"; Lapa said, as he flipped through some paperwork.
"Do you believe he could be honorable? It's obvious that the man lives by a strict code.";
"No,"; Lapa said with a bit of laughter. "It isn't. I barely spoke two words to the man.";
"And yet you've made assumptions, judgments, and drawn broad, sweeping conclusions about him.";
Lapa looked up and leaned back in his chair before rebutting, "Haven't you as well?";
"Ah,"; Daniel said, "But I know his soul. You don't.";
"Well his soul will have an opportunity to speak at the interrogation.";
"And how will you preside over it?";
Lapa closed his eyes for a moment before saying, "Look. I know he's your friend-"
"But you need a reason to trust him. You need a reason to stretch that far, where every experience in your life has told you that you shouldn't."; Daniel nodded as he looked away. He thought about it for a moment, and then he looked up at the striking blue eyes of the man in front of him. For the first time in almost forty-one years, he gave in to his young one.
Daniel looked away again. "Your father and I were riding towards the Mountain when we met with a wolf that was stealing from us. Wolves aren't scavengers, they're hunters. We stayed to see what was the matter. We left food for him and then followed him. He led us to his mate. The red wolf was caught in a white man's trap. The red one was slowly dying, and the other was starving himself, trying to keep his mate alive.
"I crawled to the red one with a knife and freed it. While I was cutting it free, the other went to stand near your father. Every time the red one would cried out, he would bare his teeth, threatening my mate. It was very frightening, but we all got through it well. Months later, I was telling the story to my brother and the rest of the tribe. He was holding you. He looked down at your face and said, 'Gui-K'ati. Wolf Lying Down, that will be his name.' He was convinced that we were blessed with you because we helped the wolves, that in providing you to us, they taught us what commitment really was.";
"Is that a true story?"; Lapa asked quietly.
"Everything I have ever told you is true, Lapa.";
"So what do the wolves and my name have to do with this alien?";
Daniel smiled and nodded at something behind Lapa. He watched Lapa turn. Next to an old picture of a young soldier and his bride was a picture of several red wolves. In front of both frames were several small wolf figurines carved in stone.
"That's just a hobby,"; Lapa said a bit awkwardly. "I was raised in Texas. In the country. We have lots of wolves...coyotes, too.";
"I don't see pictures of coyotes in your office, Lapa.";
For a moment, the man didn't know what to say.
Daniel cut off any further argument by saying, "The red wolf was always your totem. My brother knew that. A man of that kind of intelligence and insight will find a way to reach you again. He'll give you everything you need to know about him, but you have to give him the chance.";
After a moment Lapa finally said, "All right."; Lapa's shoulders slumped slightly as he said, "All right. You win. I promise I'll be fair. I'll do what I can for him, but there's no guarantee.";
"Your help is all he needs...just one moment in time of opportunity,"; Daniel said as he grabbed the arm of his chair, braced himself on his cane, and struggled up.
"Do you need to walk around again?";
"No,"; Daniel grunted as he finally made it up. "I think it's time for me to leave. I can feel it.";
"Leave?"; Lapa said, a bit taken back. The silence that followed spoke of acceptance, but he still asked, "You won't be coming back, will you?";
"No, Lapa. This is the last time."; Daniel leaned on Lapa's desk as he started his shuffling towards the door.
"Wait,"; Lapa said quickly as he stood. "At least tell me your name.";
Daniel smiled as he looked back at his boy. "I was dead long before you first breathed life. It's bad luck to speak the name of the dead, Lapa. Just know that I'm someone who loved you once and always will. Just like the rest of your tribe. And now,"; Daniel said as he started his shuffling steps again, "you lead us, my son. You lead.";
CHAPTER 5 - BE WHAT WE CAN BE, NOT WHAT WE ARE
Anthony Martinelli ushered the military officers up the mountain in one of his brother Luigi's brand new Dort Yale Sedans. Luigi had loaned him four brand new sedans fresh off the lot just for the trip. He could deliver the military men in style to his Uncle Daniel's front door. The sedan they drove was not only one of the latest styles, with a closed cabin, they even had built-in radios. How many people could brag about that?
Anthony sat in the passenger's side as a heavy-footed Lieutenant drove them along at frightening speeds. Anthony leaned over and saw the speed dial reaching to almost the full 20 miles per hour the car could produce. He swallowed hard and dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief as he reminded himself that when they were done, they'd drive back, and he could show off just how modern their little city was by playing the radio.
Anthony had twisted his idiot brother-in-law's arm by getting his sister, Maria, on his side. Anthony wanted nothing but the latest and most modern music to play for the rest of the week that these men would be in town. The music that was popular in the cities right now would fill the airwaves at all hours. Toot, Toot, Tootsie!, April Showers, Way Down Yonder in New Orleans, and Carolina In The Morning would play non-stop from four to eight. Anthony knew it was unfair to ask his sister and brother-in-law to stay up so late at their new radio station, but this was a family effort and everyone had to pitch in.
After all, that's why he'd complained, demanded, and argued for a solid month until his brothers, Giuseppe and Carlo, had purchased Virginia Valli's latest film from Universal Studios. 'The Storm' was the latest action-packed thriller, and Anthony fully planned to take the Army officers to the picture shows afterward. He'd already taken the officers to see 'Nanook of the North.' He'd seen it at least a dozen times with his nephew, because the boy had wanted to see it repeatedly with his favorite uncle. He didn't mind, though; he liked doting on the boy. The Great War had taken four of his brother's sons. Doting on his nephew was all he felt he had some days; it wasn't as if he'd ever father a child himself. And the boy was bright, far brighter than his idiot father; so much so that Anthony had often thought his surname should have been Martinelli and not the vulgar Anglo name, Carter.
Unfortunately, with every effort he made, Anthony felt he was losing the Colonel. He knew that Warwick would be making the deciding recommendation to his superiors, but so far he seemed to be annoying the man more than impressing him. While the city council made sure the survey team had been delayed on their trip along the Colorado Midland Railway, there had been extensive tours of the Colorado Springs Opera House, the city's extensive park system, the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo, and the Will Rogers Shrine of the Sun. Everyone in town who stood to profit from the presence of an Army base was making sure that the officers were learning why their fair hamlet was called 'Little London.' They'd even secured accommodations for the officers at General Palmer's plush Antlers Hotel. The Colonel seemed to have liked the accommodations...somewhat, though he didn't seem to believe the excuses he'd been given for the delays.
Anthony smiled. For now, the Antlers was the best hotel in town. He and his brothers were in the process of building two hotels that were guaranteed to attract luminaries from the uppermost echelons of society. All he needed to do was secure the military contract for the base, and that would attract the kind of traffic that would keep them filled.
"Turn right here, son,"; Anthony said as he saw the turn off. He was sure the officers, especially Warwick, were tired of hearing him lecture about how their city was young and wealthy, and growing by leaps and bounds, even though it was no longer flush with mining money or seeing the kind of growth he himself would have liked.
"I was still a young man when this pass collapsed. It'd been a hard winter. No one had ever seen anything like it before. My Uncle Daniel's lived here for more than fifty years, and it was the first he'd seen a tremor on his mountain."; Quickly, Anthony added, "It was a good thing, though. The mountain just seemed to lay this road out straight to his doorstep. Go right, following the curve, but slowly.";
As they turned right, the dirt road took them under the massive rock overhang.
"Now turn on the lamps. There's a sharp turn ahead, and you don't want to fall off.";
The car's front head lanterns came on, and in their soft yellow glow, the level stone path brightened.
Anthony rolled his window down as he said, "You can turn your windows down now, gentlemen. There won't be any more dust the rest of the way.";
Better than if he'd have been able to time their arrival, they came out of the other end and down into the apple orchard. The perfumed smell of the apple blossoms blew on a cool wind. Anthony smiled as the uncomfortable tension in the car just seemed to melt away. The orchard was ablaze with delicate flowers and deep green grass. The mountain smelled alive and healthy: as if it was ready for change.
"Over on the left,"; Anthony said as they reached the path to the house. "Just down a bit. The house is right on the other side of this outcrop. Drive on up to the house. Uncle Daniel is expecting us.";
As they rode up the steep incline towards the house, Anthony realized that Daniel wasn't on the porch. He wasn't on the porch, and he wasn't coming out. He felt a tingle prickle up his spine. The man was older than anyone he knew, but he had the ears of a hound. He should have been coming out to meet them. With the passing of each second, Anthony grew just a little more concerned.
As the car came to a stop, Anthony stepped out with more than a little trepidation. As a few more seconds passed, he knew what had happened.
"Daniel!"; he called as he rushed around the automobile and up the rickety old cabin's steps.
He opened the old door far harder than needed. He rushed to the lantern over the fireplace as he rummaged through his pockets for his matches. The little wooden sticks fell on the floor at his feet. He stooped down and picked one up. As he stood, he struck the match on the little box and then shielded it as he aimed it towards the lantern. Once the glass bowl was up and the wick lit, he rushed towards the bedroom.
He opened the second door. As the hot, steamy air hit his face, his lantern cast a hazy light into the dark room. Anthony spotted the figure lying on the old bed before he could make out his features. He felt his face drop from worry into sadness. Anthony stepped down onto the soft sand and padded towards the bed.
Anthony looked at the tissue thin skinned face of the man he'd called his uncle. He reached out and stroked the old man's bald head and briefly remembered the long-haired wild man he'd met as a young boy. As he thought of his own growing waistline and thinning crown he couldn't help but half-smirk at the differences that half a century could do to a body. Anthony wiped his face and tried to put the grief away, so he could do what needed to be done.
"I'm sorry for your loss,"; he heard a man say from behind.
Anthony turned to find Colonel Warwick standing just in front of the open door, with his hat in his hand. What little light there was shone at the man, lightening his blonde hair even more.
"It was expected,"; Anthony heard himself say. "He was the oldest man I knew. We were amazed that he'd lived this long. A man who's outlived his own grandchildren isn't someone who's supposed to live forever.";
It sounded hollow and not enough.
Anthony wanted to move, but he found he couldn't will his body to do so. He was aware of nothing until he felt a hand weigh down his right shoulder.
"We should move him,"; Colonel Warwick said gently as he moved around and touched Daniel. "He's been dead since at least last night.";
"I left him yesterday evening.";
"Doesn't look like he moved much from when he lay down. Must have died quick and peaceful."; Warwick looked around and then added, "This heat will only decompose him faster. There won't be time for a funeral.";
"There won't be a funeral,"; Anthony mumbled. "He wasn't a Christian.";
Anthony finally moved forward and pulled back the bedclothes. He slipped his arms under the body. He was almost disappointed when he lifted and his uncle felt feather light. In that instant, Anthony realized that Daniel's spirit was gone. He really was only holding a hollow, empty shell.
Anthony had no trouble carrying the man up a step into the empty bedroom and then through the open door into the main area. He didn't bother to look up at the uncomfortable faces of the uniformed gentlemen standing around staring at the dead old man. Anthony fetched the skin that he and his uncle had prepared years ago for his passing. He found the pouch hanging on the wall where he himself had nailed it up some ten years prior.
Anthony blew an inch of dust off it and untied the strings. He opened it and pulled out the painted bundle. The deer skin shroud. He felt an involuntary shiver run along his spine as he recalled the day he and Daniel had sewn it together. Anthony had hated every minute of it. Daniel had actually lain in it and had him measure him for it; it had been awful. And now the thing would be used.
He knelt down next to his uncle and spread out the shroud.
What he didn't expect was for Colonel Warwick to ask, "Was he Kiowas?";
Anthony looked up, nodding sure that his shock was more than evident. He watched Warwick kneel down opposite him, next to his uncle. Quietly, in Sioux the man said, "I had to do this for my father. I can help.";
Anthony swallowed the lump in his throat, and in the language Daniel had taught him, he replied, "Yes, I'd appreciate it.";
Together they lifted Daniel's body and situated him in the shroud. Anthony pulled his uncle up into a sitting position, careful to rest the man's limp head against his shoulder so it wouldn't flop around. Warwick reached down before he could, pulling up and tearing the nightshirt all the way up Daniel's back. Anthony lay him back down as Warwick pulled off what remained of the nightshirt. Anthony couldn't help but take one last look at his beloved uncle's inkings.
They started at his feet. It was obvious by the fit that Daniel had lost a few pounds. They laced the leather seams tightly. At the chest, Anthony tucked Daniel's arms securely at his sides as they continued to bind Daniel for his last trip into the mountain.
Anthony pulled the flap back beyond his uncle's head. He smoothed it out; deep wrinkles had set in from having sat in the leather pouch. When he was satisfied, he folded the flap over his uncle's face and secured the shroud in place with a leather thong.
"I hate to interrupt,"; the young lieutenant said as he held up a piece of paper, "I do believe your uncle left this for you.";
Anthony got painfully to his feet and reached out. Surprised, he said, "He wrote a Will.";
He read quickly through the short document and had to laugh as he read the conclusion.
"Mr. Martinelli?"; Warwick said, confused as he saw the laughter mingled with a tear.
Anthony swallowed hard and folded the Will. He knew his brothers and sister would want to see it before he took it to the bank to get their inheritance.
"You'll be interested to note that my uncle has willed his mountain to the United States Army on behalf of his children and grandchildren who served in the Great War."; Anthony swept his hand up at the same wall that held the fireplace. Overcrowded with pictures of soldiers and nurses in uniforms, the wall was the one part of the cabin Daniel had managed to keep meticulously clean, even at his advanced age. "His terms for this bequeathal are as follows: The pictures of his children will hang in whatever structure is built here, and his body must be buried in the location I decide on.";
"I would have thought he'd have left you the mountain,"; Warwick questioned.
"No,"; Anthony said easily, "I explained to him that a military presence in Colorado City was extremely important. He left us his money, and,"; Anthony turned to face the man, "I trust that we'll be allowed to remove a few important things before you demolish the cabin?";
"He was your uncle, sir,"; Warwick said quietly. "You and your family can take what you like. We haven't even made a decision as to what would be an appropriate site for the next base.";
"I understand,"; Anthony said as he stepped back to his uncle and heaved the old man up over his shoulder. "You'll change your mind once you see what I have to show you.";
"I thought you wanted to show us the mountain?";
"I do,"; Anthony replied adjusting the weight on his shoulder before turning to Warwick and correcting him by saying, "but I want to show you the inside, not the outside.";
Anthony moved towards the door, "Come, gentlemen. You have a site to survey, and I have to bury my uncle.";
He walked out past the survey team and their equipment, and turned left and proceeded up the side of the old cabin, towards the old stables. Anthony smirked as he thought of all the years he hadn't been allowed to walk up the path.
The burning mystery of it all had actually kept him awake for more than a few nights during his youth. Now, a part of him wished he hadn't ever been told. He hated the idea of watching the military break sacred ground. It was just as bad as watching a cemetery dug up for firewood and paving stones. No. Actually it was worse, because he'd soon be setting his own uncle in the dirt and covering him over.
Anthony stopped at the stables and turned. He wasn't shocked to find that Warwick had silently kept pace with him. Anthony pointed to an old stall.
"In there, there should be shovels.";
When Warwick was walking towards him with two shovels in hand, Anthony continued his journey.
Daniel had never let him go down there. Something about a curse. Something about trapping his soul. Anthony didn't like to believe that he was superstitious, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He'd been told he wasn't allowed to set foot down in the mountain's belly until after Daniel was dead. Even now, Anthony still felt unsure about traipsing in on the sacred. But he knew it was his duty.
Daniel had drawn a map of the safe passages to take a person down. He knew which signs to look for painted on the walls. He knew the twists and turns. He'd been staring at the maps since Daniel had given them to him, more than ten years ago.
Anthony was more than just a little surprised that he didn't find any trouble stepping into the dark subterranean world of tunnels that snaked in all directions and found his way easily all the way towards the light. The first break into that light was still at a thousand or so feet above the Mountain's belly.
He stepped out into it and wasn't at all amazed when he felt Warwick's presence next to him. Almost in that same instant, he heard the oddest sound, like metal sliding against metal. Then the sound changed to that of a metallic lock engaging. In the next second, the sound ended. Without an echo or reason, the sound simply stopped as if it had been pulled out of reality.
The sound of equipment and men bustling along broke the utter stillness. Anthony turned a hair and saw the survey team and other officers wander out. They began with oohs and ahhs, and Anthony turned in disgust. Soon he had to bite his tongue to keep from speaking out.
He didn't consider himself a religious man, but he found the idea of speaking loudly in this area to be wrong.
"Hello!"; one of them had yelled out, waiting for an echo.
"My girl has big breasts!"; another had shouted to the amusement of the others.
By his tenth pace forward he could taste blood in his mouth and the urge to turn and correct them was almost overpowering.
"Gentlemen,"; Warwick had growled under his breath, "I believe that is quite enough.";
Anthony wasn't surprised when Warwick drove the shovels into the rocky dirt and offered to take Daniel for a while. Every hundred feet or so, they'd switch off, and they went along like that until they'd reached the bottom and the other world that existed there.
They broke out of the darkness of the caves in to the brilliant sunlight that was allowed into the mountain from the great opening high above. The grassy valley at the bottom was a shock, but somehow fitting. It just felt right.
Anthony found he lost the survey team and the officers quickly. They turned to find them setting up their equipment as they looked over the crater, but his feet never stopped moving. And for some reason he knew without looking that Warwick was still with him. It should have bothered him that he could sense something like that, but it didn't.
Daniel's instructions had been simple. "Walk straight down to the very bottom, just let gravity guide you. When you reach the very end, you'll find a circle drawn on the wall. Find the very bottom and take five big steps to the right. Dig a hole. Throw me in. Say the prayer I taught you, and then you can finish living out your life.";
Simple.
He saw the circle drawn in a deep blue paint as he neared the far wall. The contour of the land sloped right down towards it. Gravity really did seem to trail right down to it. Anthony had to detour over an old rickety bridge made from lashed logs and crossed twigs that would take them over a small river to get to it.
He put his foot on the wood to test it when Warwick said, "Let me take him. You've carried him far enough.";
Anthony wanted to say no, but he could feel it getting harder to breathe inside his suit. The perspiration was dripping down his face, and he was sure his breathing didn't sound very good at the moment. He handed Daniel to the man without a word. He accepted the shovels and then proceeded across. He helped Warwick step down on the other side, and then they continued towards the end of the slope.
Anthony walked right up to the blue circle. He fingered the painted rock reverently before dutifully turning right and taking five long steps. He drove one of the shovels in his hand down into the soil and looked up at Warwick.
He watched the man set Daniel down carefully on the grass. By the time Warwick had stepped down closer to the impaled shovel, Anthony had already removed his tie, coat, and waistcoat. He watched Warwick do the same before he forced his eyes down to the dirt.
~ ~ ~
Three hours later they were dirt-streaked, sitting on the nearby rocks sharing a canteen between them. Observing the survey team and young officers revealed that none of them were interested in what the two older men were doing.
It was better that way.
Anthony's eyes strayed to his side. He watched Warwick tilt the canteen into his open mouth. He'd already noticed that the man never put his lips to a canteen. He tilted and drank so that occasionally water would spill down over his jaw and down his neck. In fact, he'd noticed despite his willing himself not to notice it every time Warwick had taken a drink.
Warwick kept looking straight ahead at his men, which was good as far as Anthony was concerned. Not many people knew about him, and he preferred it to stay that way. His life was complicated enough without more rumors. If he were going to continue to do business, he needed his private life to remain private; most importantly, he needed his association with the military to go as smoothly as possible
What he didn't expect was for Warwick to say, "Deer Hunter tribe.";
Anthony turned with wide eyes as he watched Warwick. The man pulled the canteen back up and poured more water into his mouth. After he'd swallowed, he passed Anthony the canteen.
"That's what I've been trying to remember. The clan marks on your uncle's back are Deer Hunter tribe.";
"How do you know them?"; Anthony asked in amazement.
"There's an old story my father told me about two whites that came to our village once. One of them was a Deer Hunter winkte. Father said that the winkte saved his life.";
"Back-Hide,"; Anthony said aloud. He saw Warwick's face, amazement and shock all rolled into one. Anthony felt instantly embarrassed and dreadful.
"My apologies,"; Anthony said quickly. "You said your father had passed. I shouldn't have said his name.";
"I-" Warwick choked out. The man seemed to hold still for a moment and then he said, "No, it's all right. I haven't kept the old ways in a long time. It'd be hypocritical to bluster and gripe about it now.";
There was a pause of silence between them that Anthony broke when he said, "My God. I never thought I'd see one of his stories come to life in front of me. I'll have you know,"; Anthony said, "that I heard that story a thousand times.";
"So did I. My father never got over my mother's death. I think a part of him always wished he had died, too. But then the winkte came with the white man and they gave him a reason to go on.";
Anthony actually felt himself stop breathing. He had to force air back into his lungs so he could ask, "Your mother was Sara O'Neill?";
Warwick turned to him with his blue eyes wide as he asked, "How did you know my mother's name?";
"Because Jack O'Neill is buried right there,"; Anthony said, pointing just beneath the blue circle next to his uncle's grave. "He was my Uncle Daniel's husband for almost fifty years.";
Anthony followed Warwick's eyes as they swept along the edges of the walls of the cavern. The blue circles dotted the walls all along the lowest points of the basin.
"Sacred ground,"; Warwick murmured.
"My uncle's wishes need to be obeyed,"; Anthony countered.
After a few moments of thought, Warwick nodded dumbly. Anthony offered him the canteen. Warwick accepted it and took another drink without his lips touching the metal. Anthony watched Warwick screw the cap back on the canteen before wiping his mouth.
"She died in childbirth,"; Warwick finally said. "My grandfather was still the village chief at the time. He made sure to hide me. He was scared that the whites might take me away. His only son was slowly killing himself because of grief. He didn't want to lose the last part of his son as well.";
Anthony only nodded.
"I was raised in the stinking poverty of the reservation, and I hated every minute of it. The second I could escape, I did. But succeeding meant blending in."; There was a silence before Warwick shrugged. "It isn't so bad. The money I send home helps a great deal. At least I've been able to keep other children from having to grow up like I did.";
They slipped into a comfortable silence.
Finally Anthony said, "How much of the old traditions were you taught?";
"All of it."; Warwick answered.
"Then you know what winkte means?";
"I am."; Warwick said easily.
Anthony smiled quickly as he turned to find an amused grin on Warwick's face. Anthony felt his own smile broaden.
"I find it amusing,"; Warwick said as he leaned forward. "According to military regulations, I'm not fit for duty, have no right to be an officer, and I shouldn't have made it this far. You have no idea how much I relish the eagles on my collar.";
Anthony smiled harder and suggested, "Perhaps you'd like to discuss it over dinner?";
"Dinner sounds excellent. We do, after all, have a great deal to discuss regarding the base we're going to build here.";
Anthony turned as his smile fell into blank anticipation.
"My grandfather told me once that your uncle held great power. I may not obey all the old ways, but I'm not going to tempt my luck against him. If he made a request, then I'm going to obey; I know that an angry winkte is a potentially dangerous winkte.";
Anthony sat back and said, "Then dinner."; As the thought popped back into his head he said, "Oh, and 'The Storm' is showing at the picture show theatre...";
Warwick's face and shoulders fell in misery as he expelled a deep breath.
Carefully Anthony said, "You really seem to hate it when I-"
"Yes. I'm sorry. I know you seem to enjoy these outings-"
"No,"; Anthony said, "Actually, I don't. But I'm courting the lot of you. I just wanted to show you the-"
"Magical wonders that is Colorado City,"; Warwick finished for him. "You don't have to show me every rock and building to court me. Personally, I'd rather just stay in by a warm fire and read.";
Anthony smiled. "Perhaps I could persuade my brother to take the younger officers out...so we can talk business.";
"Good, peace and quiet.";
"Or,"; Anthony said, hardly believing what he was about to say, but he found himself saying it none-the-less, "I could possibly see my way to giving you accommodations at my hotel. It's only partially operational, you understand. It's practically deserted and running on minimal staff-"
"I like it already. One thing?";
"Yes.";
"What's your name?";
When he realized that Warwick was serious Anthony threw his head back and laughed. His mother came bursting into his mind; he could almost imagine her there, swatting at him with a meaty hand as she demand that he mind his manners.
"Anthony,"; he said quickly. "Anthony Martinelli.";
"That one I know. What's your other name?";
"Aikenda."; Anthony said reverently. "My uncle gave me his name a long time ago. He said that I was supposed to pass it on.";
"A name of power,"; Warwick said.
"It is,"; Anthony said in agreement. "And yours?";
"My borrowed name is Arthur. My private name is Ape-mä'dlte,"; Warwick said.
Anthony translated it for himself and then out loud said, "Struck-His-Head-Against-a-Tree?";
"There's a story behind that name,"; Warwick said with a glimmer in his eyes.
Anthony smiled and nodded once. He could absolutely tell there was. "It sounds like you made it a habit to slam your head against things.";
Warwick laughed, "How'd you know about my childhood?";
Anthony smiled harder before saying, "Though,"; he said after further thought, "I don't think I like that name very much."; Anthony thought about it and then said, "No. I don't like it at all. I think maybe I should give you my name instead. I'm not supposed to keep it. Uncle Daniel was quite serious about that. He told me many, many times that I wasn't supposed to keep it. You're a Sioux; I know you'll take care of it until it's time for you to pass it on.";
"You can't give me that name. Shouldn't it go to a relative, someone special to you?";
Anthony felt his lip curl, but he didn't answer. He saw Warwick blush and then look away.
There was silence between both men.
Warwick finally broke the silence when he awkwardly said, "I'll take care of it.";
"No,"; Anthony said, "You have to only hold it until the right person comes along. You'll know when the time is right. Then you can pass it on. The name protects the holder until it finds its way home; at least that's what Uncle Daniel said."; Anthony shook his head as he said, "I'm still not sure what he meant by that.";
EPILOGUE
In need of relief, George walked out of the tunnel into the cool spring air. After two straight weeks of constant work, problems, and politics, the stifling oppression of the mountain's weight seemed to be all but crushing him. The military issue grey walls had started closing in on him until he couldn't take it anymore.
To his utter delight, the button sized apple blossoms that had been promising to burst out with their sweet perfume had finally done so in his absence. He stepped out to the enticing aroma of apple blossoms hanging just under the stench of diesel fumes. He signed out and exited the mountain turning right and walking away from the tunnel access into the suburban world.
His mood lifted and his spirit freed as his pace picked up. There was just something about the attraction of the blossoms that made him feel as if he were soaring. Though mixed memories of hope and oppression always hit him when he smelled them, he always looked forward to it. He'd kissed and made love to his wife under an apple blossom laden tree. That next year, they'd returned to the same spot, and she'd told him that they'd be having a baby at the same time the blossoms were there. Even as good as those memories were...
He could still remember Vietnam.
He'd never forget the camp he'd been kept in. After having everything taken away from him, even those personal dignities that he'd never realized were there, the only thing he'd had was an apple blossom. As he and the other POWs were slaving through the merciless humidity that marked each day, he'd found a thin layer of red clay in the ooze they'd been working in. They'd all trudged back to their bamboo hut under guard, covered in muck; no one noticed his red clay covered fist that held all the clay he'd been able to scoop up.
George never considered himself an artist before. He still didn't. He'd never been particularly fond of apples. But he knew what a perfect apple blossom looked like. And that night, he drew one with the clay.
The next day, an angry guard had beaten him within an inch of his life and had scratched the drawing up. But the stained petals could still be seen, and he'd stared at that flower for the full two years he'd been in that shit hole. Somehow it had made it all easier to bear.
He walked through the orchard with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.
George could still remember clearly the time General Arthur Warwick had taken him on a tour of what Cheyenne Mountain had looked like before all the changes. The General had even carefully described the layout of the original apple orchard before he'd been forced to cut most of it down.
George knew he'd never be able to replace that many apple trees. It didn't make tactical sense. Quite frankly, he thought he'd been pushing his luck planting as many trees as he had. However, in his own estimation, it was worth it.
The saplings were - finally - a few feet taller than he was. This would be their first yield, and the blossoms smelled so strongly that it was almost dizzying. As nice as the younglings were, they weren't what he wanted. His feet kept their pace until he reached the first large tree. He stopped cold and turned his face up with his eyes closed. He breathed in deeply and felt the cool breeze sweep over him. And in that sweet smell, he knew he also smelled freedom, mingled with something so deep he'd never been able to identify it. He'd tried, though. Often he'd tried to give it a name. An emotion? An instinct? A need? A part of his soul?
He shook his head and realized he might never have a name for it.
He slowly moved through the small patch of centurion trees as he savored them; they had been carefully protected long ago, during the base's original construction. His predecessor, as well as several others, had largely ignored the trees; Hammond was glad of it. For his own contribution, George Hammond had replanted most of the orchard, and the saplings were finally filling in the way he'd envisioned.
Voices caught his attention. He looked up and strained his ears. He recognized his people without even trying.
"I love apple blossoms,"; Carter drawled out slowly.
George turned to look. SG-1 was sprawled around in a loose circle. She was lying on her stomach facing Daniel Jackson, who sat surrounded by a pile of work. His Colonel lay next to them on his back, as Teal'c sat by quietly in meditation.
Captain Carter twirled a small flower between her fingers as she said, "They always remind me of my very first boyfriend.";
Jack stretched out a little farther on his back as he settled into the deep grass. "We telling lost love stories now?";
"Shut up, Jack,"; Daniel said quickly as he caught the expression on Carter's face as she stared at the delicate blossom in her hand. In the silence, Daniel gave her the room to talk...if she felt she wanted to. He didn't encourage her. He didn't have to.
In the next moment, she said, "He was Sioux. Try as he might, he was never able to sneak up on me. He said...that I could hear the sunrise.";
"Is that your name?"; Daniel asked as he put his pen down and gave her his undivided attention.
"Yes."; The sad smile dissolved into a blank expression. "He had a tumor in his stomach. He never made it to twelve. Three Spotted Owls lived for spring, when the blossoms would fill the orchard near his home. It was our first year there; our only year there. By the time spring came, he was dying. When they were sure, he made one last request.
"All the men in the neighborhood, my father included, carried his bed out of his house and out into the middle of the orchard. I still remember seeing the women holding white sheets over his bed to keep the sun off him."; She smiled as she looked away.
"He called me Hears the Sunrise one last time before he passed away out there in that orchard. It was the first time I ever lost a friend.";
"Tabananica,"; Daniel translated.
Sam's smile spread back her face as she faced him. "Yes,"; she said as she met his eyes.
Daniel stared into her big blue eyes for a few long seconds before he said, "It fits.";
Carter let her hand which held the blossom fall to the soft grass as she said, "You know the language. Do you have a name?";
Daniel smiled. It was one of his shy smiles. George knew from experience that the boy only used it when he didn't want to talk about something. He had learnt the hard way that Daniel was good at skirting an issue, especially when it made him uncomfortable.
All Daniel said was, "I was only at a dig in Nebraska for a few weeks. I was an outsider."; Daniel nodded, "I understood. You're only supposed to have a name when you're part of the tribe, and I wasn't.";
George watched his Colonel raise his head up as Teal'c roused from his meditation.
"You're part of our tribe,"; O'Neill said easily.
"Indeed,"; Teal'c said tranquilly.
Hammond watched Daniel's face, neck, and ears turn red. He considered it a sign that he should approach.
"Sir!"; Captain Carter exclaimed as she spotted him.
"At ease,"; George said easily. He strolled up and realized what Daniel was working on. "That's rather appropriate,"; he said, looking down at the old pictures Daniel had separated into manila folders with printouts, and handwritten notes.
"I thought I might get some inspiration out here, sir."; Daniel said, still blushing deeply. "The mountain just seemed-"
"To be closing in and falling on your head?"; George nodded. "Yeah,"; he said breathing in the sweet smell as deeply as he could. "There's only so much you can take before you've got to escape.";
George looked out into the landscape that rose and fell all around them as he said, "They were all here, you know."; George didn't have to look. He knew the photos that he'd given Daniel. He'd stared at them for many, many long weeks before he'd finally made the decision to have Daniel research, write up, and present the history of those first soldiers for a display...a permanent WW I display in the SGC of the Native American men and women who'd lived in Cheyenne Mountain and then died in service to their country.
"I was still just a lieutenant when we got a visitor here at Cheyenne Mountain. General Arthur Warwick was the original builder of the base. He was damn near a hundred years old. He lived in a hotel in town since he came to Colorado to build it, a friend of his even left it to him. My Colonel asked me to give the man a tour.
George smirked as he said, "He took me on a tour. He told me all about what the mountain looked like when he first came here in 1922. He told me all about the people who had lived here. The people who had died here. The people who had been buried here."; George turned slightly to the people still sitting on the grass, listening as he said, "He told me about the man he helped bury here. Turns out the whole place is an honest-Injun Native American burial ground.
"The General took me down to the very bottom of the Mountain. He pointed down to the north wall, all the way at the back, and he said, 'This is it. This is the spot.' That old man wouldn't let me leave until I'd sworn to him that I'd return before I died and did something for him.";
"The north wall, at the back, at the bottom of the Mountain sounds suspiciously like the 'gate room, sir.";
George looked down at his second and smiled as he said, "Yes, Colonel. It most certainly is.";
"What did he ask?"; Daniel asked, fascinated.
"Stand up, and I'll show you."; George said easily.
Unsure, but trusting as usual, Daniel stood. George wasn't surprised when the rest of his team gout up as well and stood next to their linguist. Daniel watched him curiously.
George put his hand on Daniel's shoulder as he said, "In traditional Native American culture, when a person dies, their name is never spoken again. The name dies. To keep this from happening, names are often given away; it keeps a hereditary tradition alive. I got my name from General Warwick, who had once held it. He said he'd been waiting for the right person to give it to because it wasn't his to keep. He said it held power, which would help me always, protect me. It's been handed down for countless generations, from one person to another. Now that name is yours...";
The end
Author's Note: Feed the desperate writer by writing to me. Please write; it's my only pleasure in life. On Facebook at: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Land-of-the-Moral-Quandary/268023464143#
