Chapter 30: Moving Out
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Breakfast is quiet - in a noisy sort of way. Lots of background clatter, but very little casual talk. It's just before dawn, and most of the assembly has the half-hung-over look of people used to at least an hour more sleep.
Mona has moved matters out to the patio, so people can come and go as required. Makes it easier on the cooks. Besides, this way she doesn't have to set out a seating plan. I almost sympathize. Some of the visiting dignitaries are prickly enough to give Alfred pause. Mona is apparently cousin to everyone, and so target one.
As Tim says, there are advantages to being an orphan.
I follow Dick to a small table near the foliage. Excellent choice. Nice observation point, and sightly out of the main chaos. He's managed to charm the cook into fried eggs - although likely not chicken eggs, and something respectable similar to ham. Capybara. According to Jones, more guinea pig then farm pig. Whatever. It salt-cures nicely.
I snatch a second piece from Dick's plate. Not on the Alfred-approved diet, but this *is* my vacation. Besides, I'm confident today will provide more than enough exercise to work off the extra calories.
Dinah and Jones join us. Dinah is carrying two full plates. Jones none. Jones looks a bit shocked when he realizes they are both hers, but after a moment he concedes the point, and heads back to get his own.
I nod as hey join us, but say nothing. Nothing to say.
Savage has already announced his crew. Mayfair, Brooks, and Muwan. Backed by twenty of Muwan's best men. Backed by the remaining half of the City armed forces.
Sergeant Pau'ah assures me that he men he has chosen are all trained commandos, and familiar with the river area. They should be able to hold a position until the main army can rescue us, if necessary. I agree, but add that I hope the need will not arise.
Renwick is saying behind with the big-wigs, ready to take care of the dagger if - make that when - we get it back. Littlejohn is staying in bed. Against his will, but by shut-down last night he was looking like the guest of honor at Dracula's dinner party and Savage has remanded him over to Doctor Virginia.
Jones is - subdued. I get the impression that - as much as he would like to crow at snatching his 'discovery' out from under the nose of his rival, this is just not the place or time.
Dinah is tired, but willing. A professional. I can count on her.
Dick is... himself. Chatting with the less starchy of the visiting notables, listening to Pau'ah as he details his troops training, and encouraging me to eat. I don't know where he finds the strength. Youth, perhaps. Perhaps, I remember being his age, but I was never that young.
We will take the helicopter to the river, landing safely just below Xek'or Falls, still in Savage-controlled territory. There we will transfer to small boats, sailing down he river as far as possible. If we meet no opposition, we expect to beach just before the Tz'yak Rapids, then hike overland to our as-yet-unnamed target. Once we reach the city, I will take over.
The main force will remain at Xek'or unless called. They should be close enough to count as support, but out of Amhacutec's zone of informants, and hopefully out of danger.
A good plan. If all goes perfectly, we should have the dagger by dawn.
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Helicopter ride to river. Again - quiet in a noisy sort of way. This time we all have headphones, so we could talk, but I'd rather my people took this chance to rest.
Dinah has taken the back seat, with Jones as a backrest. He's mission focused, so he's keeping his hands in *almost* legal territory. Dinah has always had a taste for the 'bad boys'. Jones wouldn't be my first choice for family, but he's not... unacceptable. They do look rather sweet together.
WayneTech pays for a lot of archaeological surveys on its distant development sites. Normally we've hired Carter's people but recently? He's been a bit less available since Hawkman went back to the JSA. Mental note: Check with Fox about upcoming needs.
Dick is up with the pilot. I offered to take that chair, but he insisted I needed the extra rest more than he did. I'd argue, but in this it would do me no good. Dick is always first out, last in - and he won't let up on himself until 'his' team is back safe at base.
I've tried on occasion to point out that he is 'my' team - not the other way around - but now that just gets me his 'yes Bruce' smile. Which mean no, of course. Better then the fights it used to get me. I think.
I have concluded that Dick thinks of himself as *Alfred's* partner when it comes to 'managing the Bat'. I suspect I should object on grounds of dignity- I am , after all, JLA - but being managed by Dick just feels so good.
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Xek'or. A nice little clearing by the river with easy landing for a helicopter and higher ground for a camp safely above the damp. Not quite a constructed landing, but a gentle curve in the river that stills the water enough to guarantee an easy launch.
The boats are waiting for us. J'onn too, I hope. Not that I can actually identify him in this life-filled stew, but there *is* one rather interested-looking parrot perched just over the launch site. I give it a faint nod - just in case.
I had wondered what they planned to use for river transportation. The Amoza River Queen was comfortable, but both Oracle and I had expected that I would need to abandon it before we got this deep. Not that the charts are all that reliable, but there is a lot of white water higher up the river - even at the 'high river' time of the year. Now I have my answer. Nothing too exotic. Your standard canoe - hacked out of whatever wood the locals use. Rather nice craftsmanship. Nothing as fancy as an u'wa, but given the local tools? Not bad.
I count seven of them, which means we go four to a boat. Most of the army will stay here, with only the 'hard' forces heading immediately down the river. Muwan divides us up into the boats. One 'passenger', one guard, two rowers. Personally, I'd rather ride with Dick, but that is unprofessional and he wouldn't thank me for asking. Only Mayfair and Brooks prove an exception. Dick is right. They don't separate for anything.
I get paired with Sargent Pau'ah. A good man, even if not one of mine. He helps me into the boat, then shakes out his uniform cape as a blanket. "Try to get some rest, Ahaw Wayne."
"Shouldn't I..." help to row, is my meaning, made clear by my half-wave at the soldiers with the paddles seated at either end of the boat.
"Rest now. " he answers. "To'ak and Lur'pan will be safely camped back at the river while you have quite a hike ahead of you.
I lay back, noticing how the interested parrot takes wing even as the canoe pushes off from the shore.
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The parrot's scream awakens me. Rough water ahead. Very rough. Rocks and foam stretching between sharp-cut banks that reminded me of the overprice 'adventure' vacations in Colorado that that woman in Personnel keeps trying to sell me as a 'executive bonding' retreat. Sargent Pau'ah grabs my shoulder to steady me as I sit up and To'ak and Lur'pan start back paddling for all they are worth.
The third boat - the one in front of ours - has come too close to the rapids. Not enough to sink, but enough to upset.
*sploosh*
A low branch catches Brooks just as he is leaning forward to push off the rock.
"HAM!"
*splash*
Mayfair dives over the side. Their lead paddleman holds out a hand - looking like he wants to stop such a foolhardy act - but is forced to concentrate on the boat or go over himself. And if he is lost the boat will break against the white-sprayed rocks, and rescue will become all but impossible. Not that it will be easy even with the boat. The paddlers back washed, frantically trying to slow the boat, but the rapids have caught it. Any second now the hard current will catch the draft and force the vessel past its' lost passengers.
I scan the water. Apparently still. Good. For now. But? If anyone else has to go in? I have the gear. Even the fish will have a rough time gnawing through nomex.
"Row ahead!", I shout to the battling boatmen ahead of us. "We can get them!"
The paddlemen obey, moving their endangered boat away from the threatening boulders.
"Swing left," I instruct my own lead paddleman. " Keep to the shallow side of that rock. From there we can pick then up."
In the few seconds it takes to get there Mayfair has latched onto Brooks, and between the pair they have managed to anchor themselves in a comparatively slow eddy. With both paddlemen backpaddleing frantically, and Sargent Pau'ah laying flat on the offside rim to counterbalance the weight, I reach down to pull first Brooks, then Mayfair, into our boat. Fortunately it is large, so the added weight of two men is not a problem. Brooks is a tall man, but not heavy, and with Mayfair's help he falls easily over the edge, Mayfair is heavier, but less shocked, so one strong pull has him onboard as well. A bit of a rough landing. For all his long arms, his legs are too short for the leap, and he flops like a flounder into the well of the canoe. No matter. He's in. This is not the Olympics and no one is checking for form.
About three seconds of mutual gasping, checking that all lungs still work, and then Mayfair locks his partner into a kiss straight out of daytime drama. Not that I watch such things.
I look politely away.
Really. In front of strangers! I smile slightly at the thought. Alfred would be appalled! I'm rather more amused, although at their age you think they would have more decorum. But then, Oracle did mention that Brooks had rather come up in the world. Not far enough, obviously. And I suppose the stay in the jungle has diluted whatever stodginess Mayfair's Boston family managed to instill.
A muttered curse draws back my attention.
"Monk, you ape! Who told you you could swim!"
"Better then you, ya dressed-up duffer. I didn't slam my brainless head into a rock!" Mayfair rolls to his side, allowing his partner more lung-space. "Unless you think all that hot air is going to hold you up."
I ignore them scanning the water. It seems we were just in time. The gators, attracted by the movement, have awoken and are making their slow but interested way towards the boat. At least - they are until the first one roars, twists, and vanishes in a sudden swirl of pink.
Bad.
"I was all right" Mayfair scoffs. "Those gators were a mile off. And I'm too tough for 'em anyhow."
Brooks points at the swirling red over beyond the rock. "What do you think those are... goldfish?"
"Gentlemen?" I sound so much like Alfred I shock myself.
"We're fine" Mayfair assures me. "Except for pretty-pants here and his spiffy shirt."
"Just because I..."
"Gentlemen!" I drop a hand to Brook's shoulder, stilling him. This is no time to rock the boat. Literally. "Please do sit up - carefully."
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Pau'ah signals another soldier, who in turn signals Muwan, with the result that we all beach temporarily at the next decent landing. An unexpected stop, but not unwelcome. It give the crew a chance to stretch their legs and relieve themselves in - given that we *are* deep in an untamed jungle - relative comfort.
Dick is already ashore. Jones and Dinah are in boats behind me, but should arrive momentarily. J'onn is... somewhere, I'm sure. One of those birds.
I help my dampened passengers out of the boat and onto a camp-stool arrangement of tarp and fresh branches the soldiers have set up. Brooks is recovered - I think - but Mayfair is still having some trouble catching his breath and keeps rubbing his shoulder. He must have hit it going into the water. I hope. This is no place for a heart attack. The nearest Western style doctor is back in the city, and I doubt that this jungle comes equipped with 911.
One of the soldiers takes our two swimmers damp clothes in exchange for a comparatively dry blanket. Fortunately, we have spare capes. It's a warm day, but not that warm. Still, its warm enough that their clothes should dry out over the fire quickly enough to get us back on the river without any serious delay.
I give Mayfair a careful once-over. At least his color is good. I think. I grab a cup of the coca 'tea' one of the crew has brewed up and bring it over to the man.
"You should stay here," I suggest. "Rest. We could leave some troops, or even call in the helicopter..."
"No, Wayne," Mayfair cuts me off. "I gotta go.
"I can..."
He shakes his head. "It's gotta be me. Me an Ham. 'Cause the Doc.. can't no more." There is a pause while he takes a deep swallow of the steaming tea. "You're a good kid Wayne. You do good. You got style. But you just can't understand what this means to Doc - and what Doc means to us."
Mayfair leans back, eyes focused on somewhere that isn't here. Isn't today. "It's different now," he says slowly. "The worlds a nicer place, mostly. But it didn't get that way by folks sittin on their ass." He looks at Brooks, then back into his empty cup. "Doc was there when we needed him. When a lot of folks needed him. Now we've got to be there for him."
I take the cup and help him to his feet. "Even if it kills you?"
"I die, I die." Mayfair shrugs, then hitches up his blanket. " We all are gonna die someday, Wayne. Dyin's nothin'. That stupid parrot that keeps flappin around can *die*. The big thing is *how* you die - and how you live." The world all one big variety show, and it's what you do before the curtain drops that's makes it worth the ticket."
"And this is what makes it worthwhile to you. Getting this artifact for your friend."
"He's gotta have it, Wayne. Ya need ta have the Tongue of the Jaguar ta do tha sacrifice of the Jaguar God. Otherwise... "
"You don't get to rule the City of Gold?"
"Not me, but... somethin' like that."
*END CHAPTER THIRTY*
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Breakfast is quiet - in a noisy sort of way. Lots of background clatter, but very little casual talk. It's just before dawn, and most of the assembly has the half-hung-over look of people used to at least an hour more sleep.
Mona has moved matters out to the patio, so people can come and go as required. Makes it easier on the cooks. Besides, this way she doesn't have to set out a seating plan. I almost sympathize. Some of the visiting dignitaries are prickly enough to give Alfred pause. Mona is apparently cousin to everyone, and so target one.
As Tim says, there are advantages to being an orphan.
I follow Dick to a small table near the foliage. Excellent choice. Nice observation point, and sightly out of the main chaos. He's managed to charm the cook into fried eggs - although likely not chicken eggs, and something respectable similar to ham. Capybara. According to Jones, more guinea pig then farm pig. Whatever. It salt-cures nicely.
I snatch a second piece from Dick's plate. Not on the Alfred-approved diet, but this *is* my vacation. Besides, I'm confident today will provide more than enough exercise to work off the extra calories.
Dinah and Jones join us. Dinah is carrying two full plates. Jones none. Jones looks a bit shocked when he realizes they are both hers, but after a moment he concedes the point, and heads back to get his own.
I nod as hey join us, but say nothing. Nothing to say.
Savage has already announced his crew. Mayfair, Brooks, and Muwan. Backed by twenty of Muwan's best men. Backed by the remaining half of the City armed forces.
Sergeant Pau'ah assures me that he men he has chosen are all trained commandos, and familiar with the river area. They should be able to hold a position until the main army can rescue us, if necessary. I agree, but add that I hope the need will not arise.
Renwick is saying behind with the big-wigs, ready to take care of the dagger if - make that when - we get it back. Littlejohn is staying in bed. Against his will, but by shut-down last night he was looking like the guest of honor at Dracula's dinner party and Savage has remanded him over to Doctor Virginia.
Jones is - subdued. I get the impression that - as much as he would like to crow at snatching his 'discovery' out from under the nose of his rival, this is just not the place or time.
Dinah is tired, but willing. A professional. I can count on her.
Dick is... himself. Chatting with the less starchy of the visiting notables, listening to Pau'ah as he details his troops training, and encouraging me to eat. I don't know where he finds the strength. Youth, perhaps. Perhaps, I remember being his age, but I was never that young.
We will take the helicopter to the river, landing safely just below Xek'or Falls, still in Savage-controlled territory. There we will transfer to small boats, sailing down he river as far as possible. If we meet no opposition, we expect to beach just before the Tz'yak Rapids, then hike overland to our as-yet-unnamed target. Once we reach the city, I will take over.
The main force will remain at Xek'or unless called. They should be close enough to count as support, but out of Amhacutec's zone of informants, and hopefully out of danger.
A good plan. If all goes perfectly, we should have the dagger by dawn.
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Helicopter ride to river. Again - quiet in a noisy sort of way. This time we all have headphones, so we could talk, but I'd rather my people took this chance to rest.
Dinah has taken the back seat, with Jones as a backrest. He's mission focused, so he's keeping his hands in *almost* legal territory. Dinah has always had a taste for the 'bad boys'. Jones wouldn't be my first choice for family, but he's not... unacceptable. They do look rather sweet together.
WayneTech pays for a lot of archaeological surveys on its distant development sites. Normally we've hired Carter's people but recently? He's been a bit less available since Hawkman went back to the JSA. Mental note: Check with Fox about upcoming needs.
Dick is up with the pilot. I offered to take that chair, but he insisted I needed the extra rest more than he did. I'd argue, but in this it would do me no good. Dick is always first out, last in - and he won't let up on himself until 'his' team is back safe at base.
I've tried on occasion to point out that he is 'my' team - not the other way around - but now that just gets me his 'yes Bruce' smile. Which mean no, of course. Better then the fights it used to get me. I think.
I have concluded that Dick thinks of himself as *Alfred's* partner when it comes to 'managing the Bat'. I suspect I should object on grounds of dignity- I am , after all, JLA - but being managed by Dick just feels so good.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
Xek'or. A nice little clearing by the river with easy landing for a helicopter and higher ground for a camp safely above the damp. Not quite a constructed landing, but a gentle curve in the river that stills the water enough to guarantee an easy launch.
The boats are waiting for us. J'onn too, I hope. Not that I can actually identify him in this life-filled stew, but there *is* one rather interested-looking parrot perched just over the launch site. I give it a faint nod - just in case.
I had wondered what they planned to use for river transportation. The Amoza River Queen was comfortable, but both Oracle and I had expected that I would need to abandon it before we got this deep. Not that the charts are all that reliable, but there is a lot of white water higher up the river - even at the 'high river' time of the year. Now I have my answer. Nothing too exotic. Your standard canoe - hacked out of whatever wood the locals use. Rather nice craftsmanship. Nothing as fancy as an u'wa, but given the local tools? Not bad.
I count seven of them, which means we go four to a boat. Most of the army will stay here, with only the 'hard' forces heading immediately down the river. Muwan divides us up into the boats. One 'passenger', one guard, two rowers. Personally, I'd rather ride with Dick, but that is unprofessional and he wouldn't thank me for asking. Only Mayfair and Brooks prove an exception. Dick is right. They don't separate for anything.
I get paired with Sargent Pau'ah. A good man, even if not one of mine. He helps me into the boat, then shakes out his uniform cape as a blanket. "Try to get some rest, Ahaw Wayne."
"Shouldn't I..." help to row, is my meaning, made clear by my half-wave at the soldiers with the paddles seated at either end of the boat.
"Rest now. " he answers. "To'ak and Lur'pan will be safely camped back at the river while you have quite a hike ahead of you.
I lay back, noticing how the interested parrot takes wing even as the canoe pushes off from the shore.
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The parrot's scream awakens me. Rough water ahead. Very rough. Rocks and foam stretching between sharp-cut banks that reminded me of the overprice 'adventure' vacations in Colorado that that woman in Personnel keeps trying to sell me as a 'executive bonding' retreat. Sargent Pau'ah grabs my shoulder to steady me as I sit up and To'ak and Lur'pan start back paddling for all they are worth.
The third boat - the one in front of ours - has come too close to the rapids. Not enough to sink, but enough to upset.
*sploosh*
A low branch catches Brooks just as he is leaning forward to push off the rock.
"HAM!"
*splash*
Mayfair dives over the side. Their lead paddleman holds out a hand - looking like he wants to stop such a foolhardy act - but is forced to concentrate on the boat or go over himself. And if he is lost the boat will break against the white-sprayed rocks, and rescue will become all but impossible. Not that it will be easy even with the boat. The paddlers back washed, frantically trying to slow the boat, but the rapids have caught it. Any second now the hard current will catch the draft and force the vessel past its' lost passengers.
I scan the water. Apparently still. Good. For now. But? If anyone else has to go in? I have the gear. Even the fish will have a rough time gnawing through nomex.
"Row ahead!", I shout to the battling boatmen ahead of us. "We can get them!"
The paddlemen obey, moving their endangered boat away from the threatening boulders.
"Swing left," I instruct my own lead paddleman. " Keep to the shallow side of that rock. From there we can pick then up."
In the few seconds it takes to get there Mayfair has latched onto Brooks, and between the pair they have managed to anchor themselves in a comparatively slow eddy. With both paddlemen backpaddleing frantically, and Sargent Pau'ah laying flat on the offside rim to counterbalance the weight, I reach down to pull first Brooks, then Mayfair, into our boat. Fortunately it is large, so the added weight of two men is not a problem. Brooks is a tall man, but not heavy, and with Mayfair's help he falls easily over the edge, Mayfair is heavier, but less shocked, so one strong pull has him onboard as well. A bit of a rough landing. For all his long arms, his legs are too short for the leap, and he flops like a flounder into the well of the canoe. No matter. He's in. This is not the Olympics and no one is checking for form.
About three seconds of mutual gasping, checking that all lungs still work, and then Mayfair locks his partner into a kiss straight out of daytime drama. Not that I watch such things.
I look politely away.
Really. In front of strangers! I smile slightly at the thought. Alfred would be appalled! I'm rather more amused, although at their age you think they would have more decorum. But then, Oracle did mention that Brooks had rather come up in the world. Not far enough, obviously. And I suppose the stay in the jungle has diluted whatever stodginess Mayfair's Boston family managed to instill.
A muttered curse draws back my attention.
"Monk, you ape! Who told you you could swim!"
"Better then you, ya dressed-up duffer. I didn't slam my brainless head into a rock!" Mayfair rolls to his side, allowing his partner more lung-space. "Unless you think all that hot air is going to hold you up."
I ignore them scanning the water. It seems we were just in time. The gators, attracted by the movement, have awoken and are making their slow but interested way towards the boat. At least - they are until the first one roars, twists, and vanishes in a sudden swirl of pink.
Bad.
"I was all right" Mayfair scoffs. "Those gators were a mile off. And I'm too tough for 'em anyhow."
Brooks points at the swirling red over beyond the rock. "What do you think those are... goldfish?"
"Gentlemen?" I sound so much like Alfred I shock myself.
"We're fine" Mayfair assures me. "Except for pretty-pants here and his spiffy shirt."
"Just because I..."
"Gentlemen!" I drop a hand to Brook's shoulder, stilling him. This is no time to rock the boat. Literally. "Please do sit up - carefully."
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Pau'ah signals another soldier, who in turn signals Muwan, with the result that we all beach temporarily at the next decent landing. An unexpected stop, but not unwelcome. It give the crew a chance to stretch their legs and relieve themselves in - given that we *are* deep in an untamed jungle - relative comfort.
Dick is already ashore. Jones and Dinah are in boats behind me, but should arrive momentarily. J'onn is... somewhere, I'm sure. One of those birds.
I help my dampened passengers out of the boat and onto a camp-stool arrangement of tarp and fresh branches the soldiers have set up. Brooks is recovered - I think - but Mayfair is still having some trouble catching his breath and keeps rubbing his shoulder. He must have hit it going into the water. I hope. This is no place for a heart attack. The nearest Western style doctor is back in the city, and I doubt that this jungle comes equipped with 911.
One of the soldiers takes our two swimmers damp clothes in exchange for a comparatively dry blanket. Fortunately, we have spare capes. It's a warm day, but not that warm. Still, its warm enough that their clothes should dry out over the fire quickly enough to get us back on the river without any serious delay.
I give Mayfair a careful once-over. At least his color is good. I think. I grab a cup of the coca 'tea' one of the crew has brewed up and bring it over to the man.
"You should stay here," I suggest. "Rest. We could leave some troops, or even call in the helicopter..."
"No, Wayne," Mayfair cuts me off. "I gotta go.
"I can..."
He shakes his head. "It's gotta be me. Me an Ham. 'Cause the Doc.. can't no more." There is a pause while he takes a deep swallow of the steaming tea. "You're a good kid Wayne. You do good. You got style. But you just can't understand what this means to Doc - and what Doc means to us."
Mayfair leans back, eyes focused on somewhere that isn't here. Isn't today. "It's different now," he says slowly. "The worlds a nicer place, mostly. But it didn't get that way by folks sittin on their ass." He looks at Brooks, then back into his empty cup. "Doc was there when we needed him. When a lot of folks needed him. Now we've got to be there for him."
I take the cup and help him to his feet. "Even if it kills you?"
"I die, I die." Mayfair shrugs, then hitches up his blanket. " We all are gonna die someday, Wayne. Dyin's nothin'. That stupid parrot that keeps flappin around can *die*. The big thing is *how* you die - and how you live." The world all one big variety show, and it's what you do before the curtain drops that's makes it worth the ticket."
"And this is what makes it worthwhile to you. Getting this artifact for your friend."
"He's gotta have it, Wayne. Ya need ta have the Tongue of the Jaguar ta do tha sacrifice of the Jaguar God. Otherwise... "
"You don't get to rule the City of Gold?"
"Not me, but... somethin' like that."
*END CHAPTER THIRTY*