Chapter 4: Colonel Jack O'Neill
We're going on a bear hunt.
We're going to catch a big one.
What a beautiful day!
We're not scared.
. . .
Jack scanned the marshy terrain as his second finished lacing up her left boot and Daniel worked on cleaning off his shovel in the shallow dirty water. Even though he had, and would, tease Carter about getting stuck, he hoped that this mucky ground would not become a serious obstacle. He had no desire to try out this planet's version of mud baths—any planet's really, even Earth. After a godforsaken op in the cold, leech infested mud of a country that would remain nameless, not even some fancy spa could ever make mud look good again.
Jack got his fingerless gloves out of the vest pocket he had stashed them in and by the time he had finished putting them on and was holding his P90 comfortably again, the shovel was reasonably cleaned and back in Daniel's pack.
"Well," Jack clapped his hand onto Carter's shoulder a second time as she straightened up with colour still high on her face, "you in the lead again Major."
"Yes Sir," Carter bobbed her head and stepped forward past Daniel and Teal'c.
Jack felt one corner of his mouth twitch at the overtly relieved tone of her voice—typical of Carter to seek reprieve from mortification in work. He was tempted to say something to her about that, but held off because she would be expecting it in a way. Better to hold off and spring the teasing on her when she was not expecting it. Like in the weeks to come if a big bar of smelly yellow soap was to turn up in her locker...
He waved his hand at the two others and they fell back into step and their former formation behind Carter as the team resumed the march through the muck.
Jack wondered, as bugs skittered away and noisy frogs hopped out of his way, why he had not seen any shorebirds like the long billed snipes in the reed thick water. The thick reeds could explain why he wasn't seeing any waterfowl like ducks, but not why there weren't any birds going after the bugs. Ecologically diverse worlds like this were equally diverse in wildlife—unlike baked rocks masquerading as desert planets that made him question the intelligence of the Ancients for putting a stargate there.
Tromping forward and in checking their back trail periodically as part of his scanning pattern for threat assessment, he noticed that he could actually see into the river valley a bit. He hadn't noticed anything while walking, but it looked like the ground was rising which made sense considering their goal was the mountains.
In time the reeds became the long grasses again and the watery mucky ground changed to the firm footing of the grasslands. Looking over his shoulder again he saw the more vibrant green of the wet meadow amongst the prairie grasses now that he knew to look for it. He wasn't looking forward to slogging back through the mud on the way back to the 'gate. Carter's little mud incident could have been worse, much worse.
They had been walking in the grass a bit when Carter slowed her steps, cautiously approaching the edge of an elliptical area of beaten down grass about a hectare in size.
There were a few clumps of still standing grass in the beaten back area but not in any noticeable pattern. The area reminded him of something he had seen in Minnesota and when the breeze rustled dried stalks and flirted with a few snagged feathers, even though there were no birds present and engaged in their mating displays, Jack was pretty certain he knew what they were facing.
A UTD did its magical act and appeared in Carter's hand and after a moment she announced, "I'm getting no energy readings. Daniel, suggestions?"
Daniel took a few steps forward to stand beside Carter and peered at the disturbed area himself. "I'm not sure Sam. The disturbance of the ground could be recent, but it is known that some plants won't grow in disturbed soil so it could be that this disturbance was done a long time ago."
"Or," Jack stepped up beside the two as they puzzled together, "it's a prairie chicken lek."
Two pairs of blue eyes turned to look at him with bewilderment.
"
Lek?" Daniel furrowed his brow. "Play?"
Jack frowned in turn as he pulled off his sunglasses and let them hang by their string. "Play? What are you talking about Daniel?"
"That's what you just said,
lek, Swedish for 'play.'"
Jack shook his head. "No, a lek. You know, a booming ground."
Daniel continued to look at him in puzzlement and a quick look at Carter showed a similar mystified look on her face.
"Come on," Jack cajoled his science twins, "you two have to know what I'm talking about."
"I would agree with O'Neill," Teal'c stepped up to where they were clustered, "that this is an area for collective mating displays of poultry."
"Thank you! Why is it that he got that but you two didn't?" Jack waved an exasperated finger at Daniel and Carter. Carter ducked her head and apologised with a crisp "Sorry Sir" but Daniel still looked confused.
Jack huffed an exasperated sigh. Sometimes, Daniel's brain was too academic for his own good. "I don't know what lek means—or if it really means 'play' in Swahili—"
"Swedish—" Daniel corrected automatically.
Jack ignored the interjection as usual, "—but to me, lek means what Teal'c said: an area where male birds strut their stuff to attract the ladies."
"Oh, and why do you think this is a bird mating area?" Daniel asked as he looked the area over and insisted, "It could be an old settlement or recent campground you know."
"Because it looks like the one I saw at Bluestem Prairie Preserve and the feathers."
"What feathers?" Daniel sounded surprised.
Jack lifted his left hand from the top of his P90 and pointed near the edge where the beaten down grass gave way to the tallgrass prairie. There, snagged in a dried grass stalk was a small, pale downy feather with grey bands that flickered in the breeze. The sight of the feather rather effectively seemed to shut Daniel up.
Carter, after a moment of somewhat awkward silence on Daniel's part, tilted her head to the side curiously and asked, "Where's the Preserve you visited Sir?"
"Minnesota, near Fargo," Jack dropped his hand back onto his P90. A long way from his cabin but he had enjoyed the trip and exploring the unique corner of Minnesota that was not lakes or trees. Watching the booming courtship of the Greater Prairie Chicken males as they raised their ear-like feathers above their heads, inflated the orange sacs on the side of their throats, and stutter-stepped around had been quite a sight. He had though, expected more 'boom' considering the term and not the hooting moaning sound they had made instead.
"Is it safe for the birds Sir, if we walk across or do we have to go around?"
"Across should be fine," Jack answered with shrug of a shoulder. "It's only in the spring when they are actually congregating that you don't want to disturb them. The hens nest about a mile away from the leks anyway and considering we are about mid-summer, the eggs are all hatched and chicks fledged."
Carter nodded and set off in the lead again across the lek. Daniel quickly fell into step to the left and after exchanging a look with Teal'c, Jack slipped his sunglasses back on and took up flanking the right.
. . .
Uh-uh! A forest!
A big dark forest.
We can't go over it.
We can't go under it.
Oh no!
We've got to go through it!
. . .
After covering over three quarters of a klick from the river valley the team was almost at the mountains. Jack took time in studying the mountains themselves, which like the Rock Mountains back home, were marked by fan-like strips on the slopes of younger growth that marked old debris flows from rock slides or avalanches. They were all solidly re-grown, which meant no avalanches in the past winter and he hopped all the debris slides he was seeing were from avalanches because that meant the underlying rock was solid and not prone to landslides. That still left mudslides that came from oversaturation but like landslides he could only hope the conditions weren't there.
Approaching the transition zone between the tallgrass prairie and the alpine forest that blanketed the side of the mountain Jack turned his attention to it. Here shrubs and short young pine trees beginning to encroach onto the prairie. Fire was the only thing that kept grasslands free of trees and judging by the depth and height of the shrubs and saplings it had been a few decades since this area had seen fire.
In minutes they penetrated through the short trees and bush and began marching upward among the mountainous pines at a thirty-five or so degree angle. Entering the forest they found themselves surrounded by old tall trees that revealed the forest was old growth. While the trees were not very big around, Jack would not have much difficulty circling the conifer trunks with his arms, the pines soared stories above their heads. In the distance were heard chirping birds and squirrels chattering away.
More or less stepping up at the constant angle, he could feel the pull of his back calf muscles, the annoyance of his heels pushing back into his boots, and knew at this steady angle by the end of the day he would feel the burn in his front thigh muscles. Jack did not mind, even somewhat enjoyed the well exercised feel—just as long as nothing happened with his knees.
Sweating more from the upward climb, the coolness that came from the dimness beneath the covering canopy did help a bit but he really missed the breeze that had kept them company in the grass and was now blocked by the towering trunks. Jack removed his sunglasses and tucked the shades into a pocket instead of letting them dangle from their string but kept his cap on. There was little sunlight and less growth on the pine needle littered floor.
Jack figured, as he looked the thinly barked trunks over, that the trees were lodgepole pine or some alien cousin. Those were the only pine trees that he knew shed their lower branches as they grew upwards and kept their leaf-needled branches for the sun receiving crowns.
As their boots half padded, half crunched over the needle bed, the almost nonexistent undergrowth was the only thing that pleased him about this bunch of trees as he kept the barrel of his P90 higher up than he had out in the open prairie.
Things hid themselves too easily in trees.
Things hid themselves not only down, or around, but worse in trees like these: up.
Part of the trouble with trees was also the mental balancing act of watching where one was stepping and watching for things around. Unless trained, people just watched where they were stepping so missed what was around, or watched what was around so had trouble with where they were stepping. Carter and Daniel of course had had to work at it in the beginning. Carter tended to watch her feet and doohickeys and Daniel tended to look around for things people left behind, but four years had—mostly—trained that out of them. Daniel slipped up occasionally but that happened more or less when he caught sight of something that said 'natives' or 'ruins.'
Jack took half an eye off his surroundings and peeling back the cover of his watch, checked the time. Three and a half hours on the planet and sadly, not lunch time yet. Too bad, he was getting hungry.
Reaching behind himself to the canteen that rode over his kidney he screwed off the cap and took a drink. Clipping the canteen back in its holster his steps slowed as he was just about to circle a tree in his path.
Taking a step back around, to put himself square with the trunk he tilted his head back, raised his hand to tilt back the brim of his cap as well, and squinted at the tree bark. Huh, Jack thought as he studied the thin bark of the pine tree that had old cut marks carved into the wood. It reminded him of the old tradition of high school sweethearts carving hearts with their initials inside.
The angular carvings echoed in shape the runes on the carved standing stones back at the 'gate was more than a foot above his head. That, as well as their old appearance, told him that a great deal of time had passed as the tree had grown since the date of carving—unless whoever, or whatever, had carved them was nearly eight feet tall.
Well, Jack hoped it was a sweetheart carving without the heart and not a warning that said 'Danger, Keep Out. Trespassers Will Be Very, Very Sorry.' Only one way to find out. "Hey, Daniel? C'mere would ya?"
"Yeah? What is it?" Daniel piped up and trotted closer.
Jack glanced back at Teal'c, who moved more to the left to cover the team's left flank now that Daniel was not paying attention to it. Carter also stopped moving forward, dropped back, and stood at the ready.
Daniel crowded the trunk peering upwards and Jack more than happily gave way to let the archaeologist do his thing.
"Oh, wow," Daniel sounded near breathless with fascination, his head craned back and hardly able to take his eyes off the carvings as his hands dug at various pockets for something, "arborglyphs! This is amazing—I never thought that we would find anything like this off-world!"
Jack tilted his head, looked up at the carvings and then at Daniel. "Arbor-what-ahs?"
"Arborglyphs!" Daniel repeated as he finally looked away from the carvings and down to his vest to actually locate whatever his hands were groping for. "In short, they're tree graffiti but really they're much more. I learned about them from an English archaeologist, Royce Osgood—no, that's wrong, Royce, Royce... Richard! That's it, Richard Osgood—about the inscriptions that World War I and II soldiers carved into tree trunks on their way to the battle fields."
Jack looked back up at the angular carvings with interest. "Really?"
"Yes, it's a very small field and relatively an unknown and unstudied one but in the past century or so, soldiers have carved their names or initials and usually where they were from and dates on tree trunks as they made their way through the countryside." Daniel took a few steps back from the trunk, held up the camera in his outstretched hands, and began taking pictures.
Jack took another step aside as Carter circled the trunk with an interested look on her face and peered at the carvings on the tree.
"Is that what this one is?" Carter looked from the carvings to Daniel.
"Or is it a warning that says: get out of our sacred grove or we shoot you full of holes?" Jack asked with a tense edge to his tone.
"No, sadly it isn't soldier graffiti Sam, nor is it a no trespassing sign Jack, what it is, is a signature recording that the person had been here." Daniel lowered the camera and peered at the LCD screen to study the captured image.
"Like 'Kilroy was here?'" Jack relaxed a bit at being told that just someone scratching their name onto a tree and not a warning of some sort as he cast a look around.
Daniel shook his head. "'Kilroy was here' was an interesting phenomena but it is not like the initials and signatures that people left to proclaim that they existed.'"
"What is a Kilroy?" Teal'c inquired.
"Kilroy," Daniel turned to the left and looked down the slope at Teal'c, "was an American popular cultural expression often seen in graffiti that started in World War II. The British and Australian equivalents of the phrase were drawings of Chad and Foo and there is evidence that they predate the American expression by twenty or more years in the historical record. There are also other names for the character from different cultures, like Clem and Sapo if I recall correctly."
"I thought it was from a Massachusetts guy?" Jack frowned.
Daniel turned towards him and spoke, "That too, as it is believed that the origin of the phrase in World War II was from a Massachusetts shipyard inspector named Kilroy and during that time the British drawing of Chad appeared with the American phrase to become the iconic graffiti known today."
Jack just nodded to show that he had listened.
Daniel lifted his hand and looked like he was going to push his glasses up but remembered the bruises and instead rubbed his chin as he turned from facing him back to facing Teal'c. "I'll show you the drawing when we get back home and better explain it with the references on hand."
Teal'c inclined his head graciously.
"So, then, this tree graffiti is like what early explorers carved on the Colorado Plataea and elsewhere?" Carter remarked.
Daniel nodded. "Very much so. Signature graffiti recording a visit happens all over the world and is usually carved, scratched, chipped or painted with proper pigments or whatever is handy like wet charcoal, a fire blackened stick, axle-grease from a wagon, or even the lead of a bullet."
Jack thought that was rather a waste of a bullet.
"This signature though," Daniel trapped the LCD screen of the camera, "'is accompanied by what is called a conventional blessing which is quite popular in some cultures and occurs in ninety percent of those culture's known graffiti. This one actually has two conventional blessings, preceding and following the signature and translated reads: 'May Vigfastr son of Asmundr be safe and sound in well-being.'"
"Okay, does this have anything to do with why we're here?" Jack asked.
"Actually, yes, I think so," Daniel answered. "Considering we're on the right path to finding the Cave of Artio and I understand the Leode have many tales about those that tried to find Arthur, though only a handful succeed like Bjorn's grandfather, I think Vigfastr was one of those searchers. I would have to speak with Bjorn again, or even the village's
skald, to find out anything for sure though."
"Will this help us find Arthur and his cave?" Jack narrowed his question down.
"Ah, well..." Daniel trailed off.
Jack sighed. "Okay, I understand you want to play with your tree cuttings but we have a mission to finish. Carter, Teal'c, you see any more of these tell Daniel and we'll pause so he can take pictures but we don't stop long—just tell us if they say anything that we need to be worried about like a Stay Out sign—okay Daniel?"
Daniel looked at the carvings and then at Jack before giving a nod as he tucked the camera back away.
"Good!" Jack gave a satisfied nod of his own and readjusted the brim of his cap. He was pleased that Daniel was still more interested in the mission objective than wanting to play with the native scribbles they had stumbled across. "Let's get moving campers."
. . .
Stumble trip!
Stumble trip!
Stumble trip!
. . .
The team continued the march through the undergrowth-free forest more slowly now with greater vigilance, watching the trees themselves for evidence of humans as well as the forest itself for dangers. All they continued to hear beyond themselves were the birds high in the canopy above and squirrels chattering.
Daniel was the one who spotted the next bit of tree graffiti and after pausing for pictures and a quick confirmation that it was just a signature again, they continued on their way.
But, the second discovery had obviously sidetracked the archaeologist from focusing on the mission. Jack could tell that by the way the fall of Daniel's footsteps had changed, coming down wrong on a stick and hearing the snapping of the stick and the stumble trip sound of Daniel's feet. There were no plants on the forest floor, true, but there were sticks and branches that had come from above presenting the occasional obstacle.
"Pay attention Daniel, watch your step," Jack cautioned. "We don't need you taking a tumble down this mountain side."
"I will," Daniel answered. "I mean, I won't. That is, I will watch my step and won't fall."
"Good." Jack approved. He still shook his head over Daniel tripping into that buffalo wallow and doing a number on his nose and breaking his glasses. Only Daniel could have done such a thing.
A loud angry chattering from a tree trunk on his left had him jerking his head around in surprise. A squirrel with red fur was inching head first down a tree trunk with large bushy tail twitching madly—a giant squirrel.
Jack twitched an eyebrow at the size. Did all the animals on this planet come in size extra-large? First those cows that could spear him in the eye with their horns and now a squirrel that was the size of a fox back on Earth—a small fox, but a fox none the less.
Still chattering angrily the giant squirrel finally inched its way down the trunk to the forest floor, then shot across the ground, and dashed up the trunk of a neighbouring tree.
Well, Jack thought as he returned his attention to scanning the area around him, he did not want to run into anything that preyed on those giant squirrels considering they were small-fox size. Bypassing in an arms length of a tree, he let go of his P90 with his left hand and reaching out rapped his knuckles against the thin bark. No need to tempt fate with thoughts like those.
"O'Neill?" Teal'c rumbled from behind.
"Nothing," Jack answered over his shoulder.
"What?" Daniel piped up from the left.
"Nothing," Jack said louder to be heard clearly over the distance separating them.
"O'Neill reached out and punched the trunk of a tree," Teal'c answered.
Daniel scrunched up his face. "Punched a tree? Jack, what would you punch a tree for?"
"I said," Jack emphasised, "it was nothing. And I did not punch a tree."
"You did O'Neill," Teal'c asserted.
"No, I did not," Jack said forcefully.
"Well, Teal'c said you did so you must have," Daniel interjected.
Jack scowled, "Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not for cryin' out loud! What reason Daniel, would I have for punching a tree?"
"I don't know, but Teal'c said you did."
"Well, Teal'c's wrong," Jack huffed an annoyed breath. "I did not punch a tree. I knocked wood."
"Oh. Well, why didn't you just say so?"
"I did," Jack snapped.
"No you didn't."
"Yes, I did. You and Teal'c are the ones that insisted I was punching trees."
"Oh." Daniel pursed his lips. "Well, why are you knocking on wood?"
Jack let loose an aggravated groan. "I told you it's nothing."
"Well, it must be something otherwise you wouldn't have knocked on wood," Daniel persisted.
"If I tell you, will you shut up about it?" Jack growled.
"Of course, there's no need to be angry about it."
"On second thought, forget it. I'm not telling you." Jack turned his head away and resumed watching their right flank.
"Jack..." Daniel prompted.
"Why would one knock on wood DanielJackson?" Teal'c interrupted.
"Ah... 'knocking on wood,' or 'touch wood,' refers to the apotropaic tradition in Western folklore of literally knocking on or touching wood to avoid tempting fate following an observation, boast, or when speaking of one's own death or otherwise warding off bad luck when certain superstitious situations are encountered: like crossing paths with a black cat, walking under a ladder, or noticing that it is Friday the 13th," Daniel lectured. "Now in old English folklore—"
"Daniel?" Jack interrupted with saccharin sweetness as he looked over at Daniel again.
"Yes Jack?"
"Sir?" Carter interrupted from her place at point.
Jack swung his head around to face forward and peered up at Carter who was standing high on the slope above them. "What?"
"I think I found a den of some sort Sir."
Jack lengthened his stride to climb up the distance between himself and his second and mentally pushed his annoyance with Daniel aside, who, along with Teal'c trailed after him up the steep mountainside.
There, dug into the mountainside with a mound of packed down dirt in front, was the entrance of a den that was big enough for a person of Teal'c's size to get in easily. Carter was staying clear of it, P90 at the ready as she looked warily about.
He could see where her wariness was coming from as he held his finger closer to the safety of his P90. It didn't happen often, but wildlife attacks weren't something to laugh off with the threat of unknown poisons, venom, and just plain ol' physical injury. And either something very small had made a very big den or something very big was using a den just the right size. "Any tracks Major?"
Carter shook her head. "None that I can see Sir."
"Teal'c?" Jack prompted and motioned the Jaffa forward with a hand gesture. Between the two of them they were good at spotting tracks and figuring out what kind and size of animal made them. He and Teal'c moved up, closer to the den as Carter dropped back and they spent the next few minutes scrutinizing the ground.
"I see no sign O'Neill," Teal'c declared after a time.
"Yeah, me neither," Jack agreed. The ground was too smoothly packed out front with no recent rain to hold tracks, nor did the ground's bed of pine litter hold tracks, and it might be the den was abandoned. He stepped back and jerked, knocked off balance when the back of his legs slammed into an obstacle that had not been behind him before.
"Jack!" the Daniel-obstacle squawked in dismay.
He stumble tripped in an attempt to right himself but the Daniel-obstacle also moved, catching him square in the back of his knees and ass-over-teakettle he went.
Crap!
The rolling tumble down the steep mountainside was short and painful.
Ending when he smacked square into the trunk of a pine.
Jack gasped in breaths as he lay there. Half curled around the tree, hearing the frantic voices and rushing boot steps of his teammates as they hurried down the hill after him. His P90 was digging into his chest, his pack and canteen dug into him painfully and his legs and left wrist felt really banged up.
Daniel was the first to reach him, crowding close and babbling apologies frantically.
"Daniel? What the hell were you doing?" Jack demanded as he half rolled into a sitting up position to get out of his awkward twisted up position, careful with handling his P90 even as his fingertips checked the setting of the safety automatically. It was a God damn miracle that he hadn't pulled the trigger and shot himself with his own weapon.
"I'm sorry Jack, but I crouched down to check on a rock I saw and you backed up into me."
"Over you, you mean!" Jack wheezed and batted at Daniel's 'helping' hands.
Shit! His left wrist screamed in pain at the motion and he jerked it back, cradled the limb close to his chest.
"Sir," Carter dropped to her knees on the other side of him next to the tree, her unclipped pack hitting the ground at the same time as she opened it to dig out a med kit. "You know the drill, where does it hurt?"
"Besides my pride Carter?" Jack shifted into a more comfortable upright position; stretching his legs out cautiously before him he pulled his P90 over his head—triple checked the safety—and set it aside. To his disbelief, besides the wrenching and the tumble, his legs did not really hurt and his knees were fine. Jack tilted his head back, causing his neck to twinge a bit at the craning, and saw Teal'c on the slope above. "Hey, Teal'c? Keep an eye on that den, would ya?"
"I shall O'Neill," Teal'c affirmed.
"Now, where's my cap?"
"On the other side of you Sir. How are your knees Sir? Your back?" Carter prompted as she set the med kit aside and started to relieve him of his pack.
Jack looked to his right and saw that his cap, having tumbled down the slope with him, was dirty but not damaged. Leaning forward a bit to assist Carter in getting his pack off, he rolled his shoulders when the weight was lifted. "Just my wrist."
Carter accepted the limb when he held it out to her, carefully easing off his fingerless gloves to reveal the reddened and swelling area. Then she started moving, stretching, and rotating the wrist gently saying, "Tell me what hurts Sir."
"Ah, yi, yi," Jack muttered through the pain. "All of it."
"Okay," Carter slipped her right hand under his hand to clasp further up his forearm. "Squeeze Sir and tell me how it feels. Does your strength feel normal?"
Jack did as instructed, wincing inside as the injury spasm and he was unable to grip her wrist very hard. Breathing out he answered, "Strength's down."
Carter took his wrist in both her hands again and with her right fingers pressed around his wrist, feeling the injured area. "What now Sir?"
"Besides pain?"
"No crackling feeling?"
Jack shook his head.
"Okay Sir," Carter lifted her right hand from his wrist and reached for the med kit, "it seems you have a bad Grade II sprain so I'm going to ice and then splint it."
"Can't you just wrap it?"
Carter gave him a severe look. "I could put it in a sling instead."
"No, no," Jack hated the thought of how it would interfere with his movements, "splint's fine."
"Thought so Sir." Carter looked from him to Daniel who was still hovering on his other side and Teal'c on the slope above. "Daniel? Teal'c? Why don't you two make lunch while I treat the Colonel."
Jack was glad the two men set about doing as instructed immediately. It kept Daniel from repeatedly apologising as the archaeologist hovered over him and meant they could have lunch because it was about time. He was hungry.
