I was handed a challenge for a story involving a
leprachaun, a pot of gold, a four leaf clover and a top
hat. This is the story that occurred to me.
SeaQuest is the creative property of Speilberg and Amblin.
The characters Miguel, Lonnie, Tim and Brody all belong to
this show, they are not mine and I am making no profit from
the use of them. (Well, unless you count the pleasure of
their romps through my imagination.)
Darby O'Gill and King Brian of Nog Nashega are from the
Disney movie, "Darby O'Gill and the little people", as are
many of the scenes in this story. I beg of you, don't tell
the drones who have taken the company over. I mean no
disrespect by the use of them.
Ensign Treysa Barlow is the creation of Paula Behanna who
graciously allows me to employ her in my stories on
occasion, with the clearly understood proviso that *she*
get's Tim.
Ensign Ari Adler is my own brainchild, although more and
more, she seems to be taking on a life of her own.
Finally, the story takes place after the sequel to "Petit
Vriens" and about a month before the crew embarks for
Hyperion. ---ki
On Top of Nashega: Chapter 1
by katirene (XMP)
"And they say that the phouka haunts the ruins of
Nashega to this very day, guarding the the secrets of Brian
Boru and stealing away any mortals foolish enough to
approach the entrance too closely." The gnarled, old man
stopped and lifted his mug, his face assuming a comical
expression of dismay when he found it empty. Immediately
one of his listeners called out to the enthralled pub owner
to give him a refill, He must be that parched after telling
the story, so. The spell broken, the barkeep hurried to
comply.
Lonnie Henderson looked around at the smoky, dark
Irish pub, The Fourth Wish, shivering appreciatively at the
story and enjoying the ambiance. Jim Brody and Jonathan
Ford might as well be back onboard the deep submergence
vehicle, SeaQuest, for all the attention they had paid the
man. And he had noticed, too. In spite of their low tones,
a couple of times he had glared in their direction, trying
to compel them to listen to him.
Picking up her heavy mug of dark ale, Lonnie
continued to scan the room. It wasn't really smoky, just
old with the ghosts of past fires brought out of the
ancient heavy beams and grey stones by the fine, heavy mist
that had been falling for that past few days. The small
shot glass standing in the place of pride above the bar
elicited an indulgent grin from her. The locals actually
claimed that the king of the leprachauns had drunk whiskey
from that very glass. Taking a sip of the smooth brew, she
eyed another table of her crewmates, one that seemingly had
been almost as distracted as her two table companions. But
the old storyteller hadn't given them his evil eye. Lonnie
grinned again, more widely this time.
Trust CPO Miguel Ortiz and Lt. Tim O'Neill to ask
two of the prettiest new ensigns out on this unexpected
liberty. The sub crew was up here in the North Sea
Confederation researching the re-establishment of seal
colonies, and Lonnie had to admit, the four of them had
been working overtime on the project. Ensign Irene Adler,
usually called Ari because she hated the American
pronounciation of her given name, was studying marine
mammal communications while her friend and associate,
Treysa Barlow was an anthropologist concentrating on
determining the societal and cultural patterns of the same
colonies. Miguel and Tim as sensor operator and head
communications officer respectively, were natural partners
in their endeavours. They seemed to want to be their
partners in other endeavours, as well.
As she watched, Miguel leaned over and whispered
something into the ear of Ari, who shook her head
vehemently and replied. Whatever she said, the handsome,
dark Cuban found it amusing and started laughing. As the
woman pressed her point, Lonnie's eyes narrowed and she
watched Ari closely. They'd been roommates for a while, and
Lonnie felt certain that the other girl was up to
something. But this didn't seem to be one of her usual
practical jokes.
Turning around, Lonnie stood up made some excuse to
the two seated there, who barely even noticed her
interruption. The tall, slender, almost elvan helmswoman
looked down at the two oblivious men for a moment, her lips
tight with pique, then she shrugged and her mouth relaxed
into a wry grin. It wasn't as if she wanted either of them
to be particularly
attentive anyway, but they could at least make the effort.
Putting them out of her mind, she began to weave through
the tables toward the others.
She moved through a forest of chairs crowding the
pub, swaying her hips gracefully from side to side to avoid
collision. That was a talent that one either learned
onboard a sub, or one transfered off the same. Most of the
tables were occupied by local fishermen, but a few were
filled with self-consciously stylish young people dressed
in retro-finery. One young man, wearing an antique tux, had
brought a top hat to finish off his outfit, but it kept
falling to the floor, so he left it sitting at his table.
Lonnie spied him standing over the odd jukebox,
choosing a tune.
A ballad began to play, something about a breeze
blowing through a field of grain and Lonnie was surprised
by the reaction in Adler. The young woman stiffened her
back, looking around the bar as if seeking the source of
the music before her eyes came to a rest sadly on the
figure of her date He didn't seem to observe her momentary
distraction, still intent on an argument with the others,
but he reached out to capture her hand and pull it closer.
As the curious helmswoman approached, he turned to Ari and
Lonnie heard him scoff, "Oh, come on, Ari! You don't
believe that story he was spouting, do you?"
Snagging a chair from a neighboring table, Lonnie
turned it around, sliding it between Miguel and Tim, and
sitting down. "So, what's up?" she asked brightly, looking
from Ari to Miguel and back.
"Ari says that there really is a place called
Nashega, not too far from here. But she doesn't want to
go."
"Tis in the middle of a bit of property," she said,
the soft burr that was usually barely detectable in her
voice strengthening to a soothing brogue. At the sound of
it, Lonnie suddenly remembered that the young woman had
lived for several years in her youth somewhere near here.
"There are no roads to the hill, and none up to the peak.
We'd have to hike in and up. And the ruins aren't much, at
that. The rocks are tumbled down and only a few walls
remain. All I'm saying is that it really isn't worth it."
She paused, adding wistfully and under her breath, "Though
the view is magnificent."
"Oh-ho!" Miguel crowed. "So you have been up there!
I knew that story was a bunch of bull."
The small ensign shrugged uncomfortably. "Once, when
a child visiting here with my parents. My aunt nun was
horrified when she found out." For a moment, her face
twisted with sorrow, then she continued. "There's something
powerful unchancy about Nashega. T'is long been a place of
misfortune," she murmured. The sensor operator leaned
forward, to tug persuasively on an errant curl in the
middle of her forehead.
"We can go in the full daylight, up to the top, look
around and come back down. What do you say? If only to
prove that there's nothing else there."
"I say it sounds great," Tim added his voice to the
discussion. "I want to look at the ruins up there."
"Sure! It'd be a great place to hike to, maybe take
a picnic lunch with us, and then hike down again," Miguel
said heartily.
"I agree," Lonnie declared enthusiastically. "And
it's better than hanging around a pub all the time. Might
as well be back on the SeaQuest for all we see. What about
you, Trey?" Trey shook her head thoughtfully, her heavy,
straight brown hair rippling in the indirect light.
She was looking much better than she had when she'd
first been assigned to the deep submergence vehicle as a
resident anthropologist. Lonnie remembered her first sight
of Trey. She'd been pale and unsure of herself, far too
thin and intense. Oddly enough, it was the concentrated
attention from the other thin, pale, uncertain and overly
intense crewmember that was inspiring the change in her.
Tim reached over to touch the woman's hand as she voiced
her opinion, encouraging her.
"I don't know. Hiking in this weather isn't my idea
of a good time." She faced Tim and smiled secretively at
him. With a small blush, he started to look down, then
smiled back.
Ari snorted derisively. "This? This is nothing. A
gently kiss from heaven. You should see it when it's really
coming down."
Tim leaned over and murmured something into Trey's
ear. Sitting back, he added, "And I would like to see it."
"Suit yourself," she replied. "I've spent enough of
my life in the cold. I'm not going out into the rain unless
I have to."
Another voice joined the debate as Jim Brody, his
conference with Commander Ford over, grabbed a chair from
another table and pulled it up between Ari and Trey,
sitting down without turning it around forward. Crossing
his hands over the back of the seat, he leaned onto them
and asked, "Have to what?"
Barlow gave her immediate superior a wary glance.
Over the past few weeks, when she hadn't been in the water
with Ari and Darwin, he'd been drilling her in security
procedures, determined to make her into an effective
security officer. While she agreed with the idea in
principal, his enthusiasm and dedication had a habit of
interferring with her liberties.
She swept her hand outward, indicating the others at
the table. "Can you believe these idiots want to go out in
this weather, hiking who knows how far up an unknown hill
to see a bunch of rocks that no one even knows who put up
there for some long forgotten reason."
Ari leaned forward. "Nashega is little more than a
mile up, and there are paths all over it. The sheep go up
there frequently," she answered quietly. "And Brian Boru
had a tower built, to watch for Vikings."
"Now that's where ye're wrong, lass." a deep,
burring voice corrected her gently. "King Brian did rebuild
the tower on yon hill, sure enough. But he used stones
already there from another time. The Tuatha de Danann had a
fortress there, but the place was already old then. T'is
said that when Tara fell, the harp was brought to Nashega
for safety, as well as other treasures, too many to tell.
And some say the selkies trade there the jewels of the sea
for eggs and the liquor and the like." Tim snorted
suddenly.
"Selkies, indeed!" he scoffed, nervously. "Next I
suppose you'll be telling us that there are leprachauns up
there." The old man looked offended.
"Now why should I be telling the likes of you
anything of the sort. T'isn't likely you'd be seeing
anything there at that. But I tell you, young man ..."
Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a cry from the
bar. One of his cronies yelled out, "Hey Darbie, get o'er
here. Seamus is standin' a round." Another man, probably
the aforementioned Seamus, nodded agreement, his face
wreathed with smiles. "Come on, sit ye down and drink it
oop, for I'm an Irishman." With a bob of his head and a tug
at his cap, the old man took his leave of them. Lonnie
noticed that his hand patted Ari on the shoulder as he
passed and the small smile that little woman tried to hide.
Sitting back, she regarded the woman carefully.
SeaQuest had been a much livelier place since she'd joined
them. Her flair for practical jokes almost matched the
sensor chief's, and the two of them together were
impossible. Luckily, they both cultivated a professional
attitude on duty, for the most part, so the captain was
able to ignore their relationship and avoid the necessity
of interferring, but ... Lonnie shook her head. This didn't
seem to be one of her jokes, though. There was no air of
suppressed excitement about the ensign. Rather, the
opposite, in fact.
Brody had been considering the matter carefully,
stroking his chin in a gesture he'd borrowed from Captain
Bridger. Thoughtfully, he nodded, "I think I know where it
is," he said. "If I'm right, then it's about three miles
from our landing point. That'll make it four miles up and
four miles down, huh? Sounds like perfect training
conditions to me, Barlow." He looked around at the faces of
his friends and grinned evilly, "In fact, I'd say that
several of you are getting a bit flabby. I'll talk to
Commander Ford about it. Tomorrow morning, 0600 hours." As
he stood up and pulled the chair out from under him,
several voices rose in protest.
"No! Oh, come on, Jim. You can't do that."
Looking down at them from the advantage of his six
foot plus height, he replied, "I can and I am. And keep
that in mind, the next time you think about reprogramming
my sleep alarum to play the ride of the Valkyrie at 3 in
the morning." With a small nod of satisfaction, he walked
away. Lonnie saw the satisfied smile creep into one corner
of Ari's mouth, then it disappeared and her eyes appeared
lost. The dimunitive ensign leaned over, her hand on
MIguel's shoulder and kissed his cheek.
As he responded by turning his face and replying in
kind, Lonnie stood up herself. "Well, if I'm going on a
hike tomorrow, I want to get to bed early. Who's with me."
Miguel gave his companion a mischievious side glance.
"We are, but I guess we should get to sleep,
instead." Instead of acting outraged, as per her usual, the
woman laughed and hugged him close. Tim stood up and tossed
money on the table.
"Lonnie's right. Let's settle the bill and go." As
they put on their rain gear, Lonnie found herself wondering
curiously, just what was Ensign Adler up to, and why she
didn't seem all to happy with the success of it. She paused
to look back into the public room of the old tavern, her
eyes seeking the old storyteller. But he was gone, and
there was no sign of his presence at all.
After grounding the inflatable, Lonnie picked up the fifty pound backpack that Lt. Brody deemed appropriate for the outing and started to shrug it on, wishing that he hadn't noticed how close the hill was to the shore. If he
hadn't horned in on the conversation, they could have driven to the base of the rise and climbed up from there. Well, at least it wasn't raining, or misting or whatever you wanted to call it. Craning her head upward, Lonnie could see the stars fading as the sky lightened toward dawn. Miguel, already wearing his pack, was holding another one just out of Ari Adler's reach, suggesting something to her. Curious, Lonnie moved closer.
"I think that you'll have enough to do with your own," the young woman answered, nose in the air. Lonnie could have predicted what would happen next. Dropping the pack, Miguel lunged forward and swept the girl off her feet carrying her a few feet, singing a song from the previous night about a girl worth her weight in gold. Twisting sinuously in his arms, Ari managed to make him to slip and fall on the wet, green clover covering the field by the landing. But, true to his training, he kept a tight grip around her, swiveling in mid-air so that he landed shoulders first, and not on top of her.
Using the impact to break free, Ari rolled away, pulling up a fistful of greenery on the way. Laughing with gleeful triumph, she shoved the handful of vegetation down his shirt and slung the discarded pack upand on. By the time Brody turned around, he found her standing demurely beside him, waiting to begin, while Miguel had
take off the heavy load and was undoing the top of his uniform overall, trying to get the grass and leaves out.
"That will be enough, Ortiz," he ordered. "This isn't a pleasure walk. Get yourself in order and let's move out." With a glare split between the dimunitive ensign and the burly lieutenant, the Cuban sensor chief obeyed. But Lonnie heard him threaten his tormentor in a quiet voice as they started off.
"You just wait, Irene Adler. I'll get you back for this." She turned her face down, flirting her eyes up at him through her lashes.
"I'm sorry, chief. I don't know what came over me." With a grin that was half devilment and half promise, she added, "But I'll help you get it out later, if you want."
"You'd better," he added, leaning forward as if to touch her.
"Ortiz!" Brody called back. "Get up here and keep your eyes open!" With a good-natured shrug and a grin, he hurried up. As he left the young woman, her smile faded, and the veneer of happiness disappeared, leaving a look of sadness and resolution behind.
"What was that all about?" Lonnie asked conversationally. Ari smiled and shook her head.
"Imagine! He had the nerve to suggest that I couldn't carry my load." With a sigh, she looked out across the fields on either side of the the road. "T'is a beautiful sight, isn't it? Ye'd almost be expecting ta see a unicorn dancin' and playin' silly games, now, wouldn't ye?" Lonnie blinked.
"Ummm, no. I wouldn't. Why would you?" Ari began to chuckle, looking up at the taller woman from the corner of her eyes.
"Just an old lullaby my mother used to sing me to sleep with. That's all."
Just then Trey Barlow caught them up. "Look, Ari, about those seals..." she started. Lonnie shrugged and dropped back. Dimly she could hear Trey continuing, "I know that you think they are more intelligent than the others, but nothing in the data supports your claim."
"Oh, Trey! You've seen it yourself. You've played with them. They just won't do the..."
Tapping her shoulder, Tim nodded toward the two scientists, arguing sotto voce up ahead. "At it again?" he asked. Lonnie laughed.
"Yeah, lately, that's all they talk about. Is that why we're spending so much time on this census?" Tim shook his head no.
"There's a group of seals that we just can't identify as to family group or origin. I mean, most of them have clearly designated territories, home ground, what have you. Like the seals of Lukannon. But these ones just appear and disappear at random." Their conversation turned to other
subjects.
Before too long, they were at the base of Nashega hill. Despite the storyteller's tale, it wasn't all that impressive a formation. They had a clear view all the way to the top. As Ari had claimed, it was about a mile high, and a fairly easy slope, with well defined paths. They started up, checking their instruments and following proper procedures for hostile landings. At least Brody had let them enjoy the walk to the hill. The security officer was confirming his compass readings as they went.
"Maybe we should head back down, lieutenant?" a voice called out.
"Come on, Miguel, where's your spirit of adventure?" Brody ragged back. "Going to let a little fog get to you?"
"I didn't say anything," the CPO protested. "I
thought it was O'Neill."
"Not me!" that worthy claimed. "And you know it."
"Of course it was you, Tim," a woman's voice insisted.
"Trey!" his voice was full of disappointed betrayal. "You know that wasn't me!"
"I didn't say it was," Trey answered.
"Now you're going to claim I said it?" Lonnie's voice charged unpleasantly.
"You guys, stop fooling around!" Brody ordered. "You're making too much noise."
"What's the matter, lieutenant? Afraid we'll get captured by a bunch of sheep?" Lonnie insinuated snidely, then immediately followed the comment with the question, "Who said that?"
"You should know," the sensor chief's voice insisted.
"No she wouldn't," the Trey seemed to correct him. "No body told her it yet."
"What's going on here?" Brody yelled. He was immediately answered by a mocking chorus, echoing his question in the voices of his companions. "What's going on here? What's going on here?"
"Stop that!" he ordered. The choir in the mist responded, "Stop that! Stop that!" With a startling suddeness, Lonnie stumbled out of the obscuring haze, to find Lt. Brody standing a few feet ahead, looking back with an expression of perplexity. She turned and found what looked to be an entire cloud, descended from the sky to to ring the hill.
Turning back toward Jim, she shrugged and started to say, "Well, at least we climbed above ..." but then she realized that she was looking down the mountain, not up. "Oh, no we didn't." Somehow, in spite of their instruments, they had gotten turned around in the fog and ended up back where they'd come from. Brody was shaking
his compass, trying to get it to work properly. Lonnie looked back toward the cloud bank.
Frowning, she realized that she and the lieutenant were alone. "Jim, where are the others?" Quickly, he looked up and around. Taking out his PAL, he called in. "O'Neill, report your position. Ortiz, where are you? Adler? Barlow? Report! Come on you guys, speak to me!" But there was no answer.
Looking at the sole representative of his team, Jim Brody strode forward, shrugging his heavy pack to a more comfortable position on his back. "They aren't answering. We'll have to go in after them." So saying, he plunged into the mist, and with a wry twist of her lips, Lonnie followed. Immediately, they were surrounded by hostile, unearthly laughter, fingers pinching, buffetting and spinning them around, finally shoving them back out of the fog. Lonnie picked herself up and sat down on a good-sized rock, dropping the load and checking for bruises. Those pinches had hurt.
"Jim, hold-up," she advised as the officer, with an expression of pig-headed stubborness, made a move back toward the wall of grey mist. "If we go back in, we'll only get the same again. Let's make a circuit of the hill, see if there's any other way up and keep calling them. Maybe they worked around to the other side, and something in the soil is keeping the signal from them?" He halted on the limit of the mist and nodded.
"Good idea, Henderson. Let's do that." With a sigh, Lonnie resumed her pack and trudged after him.
Go to Part 2
Send Feedback to Katirene