There were several bad things about losing a bet to Tony Piccolo. One was the nagging suspicion that you'd been cheated, the other was the fact that you had to pay up. It wasn't always money that Tony wanted. Sometimes you had to accompany him on one of his harebrained escapades on shore leave. This was the situation in which Lucas Wolenczak and Miguel Ortiz found themselves when seaQuest docked at the undersea colony of LaRangia. Tony had been there before and knew a little club called the Happening which specialized in things from the 1960s. Tony had this strange affinity for the period which his crewmates did not share. Still, they found themselves dragged into the place just the same. They had lost a bet. Tony got to decide where they would spent their 12 hour liberties.
"This place had better be all you've built it up to be," Lucas complained for the millionth time as they made their way inside the crowded bar.
"Will you two quit sulking? You're going to have the night of your lives!" Tony promised. A smile creased his lips as the familiar strains of a sixties classic met his ears.
"I'll just bet," Ortiz scoffed.
Because it was so crowded that they would have to wait for a table, Tony decided to placate them by buying them a drink. The drinking age in La Rangia was 18 so Lucas could drink legally. It took a little of the curse off the evening for him.
Ortiz looked around skeptically. "I think I saw this place in a training film once," he commented.
"Don't be such a Nancy. What are ya drinkin'? I'll go over to the bar and get it. You guys scout around for a table - preferably one near the band," Tony offered.
"I wouldn't touch anything that didn't come into this place bottled," Ortiz declared eyeing some of the unwashed looking clientele.
"Come on, Teez, get into the spirit of things," Tony urged.
Lucas trusted Ortiz' instincts and ordered bottled beer. Ortiz ordered bottled water. He was damn sure not going to get drunk in a place like this. While Tony made his way through the crowd to the bar, the others did manage to find a table but it was as far from the band as they could get. They had no use for this outdated music. The band seemed to be whining some protest message or other.
"Could you get any further away from the stage?" Tony complained when he brought their drinks?"
"We woulda if we coulda," Ortiz smiled evilly accepting his bottle of water from Tony.
Lucas took his bottle of beer and eyed the strange rainbow hued concoction Tony had ordered for himself. "What is that?"
"It's called Under The Rainbow," Tony enthused, happy at least one of them was showing some interest in something.
"You're liable to wind up under the table," Ortiz warned.
"It only looks psychedelic," Tony explained. "It mostly food coloring. It's....."
"Psycho what?" Lucas asked.
"Didn't you ever study history in any of those fancy colleges you went to?" Tony complained.
"Just the important stuff."
"This was important! This was the first generation of young people - people our age who took on the government on an issue and won. They had to start listening to the wishes of the younger generations. It's why you can drink." Tony poked his index finger into Lucas' chest emphatically.
"I surrender," Lucas pulled away.
"We have to be here. We don't have to listen to one of your tirades. Put the soapbox away," Ortiz told him.
"You two are gonna really be fun tonight," Tony was steamed now. "I'm going up by the stage where I can hear the band. You wanna come?"
"Not and give up our table. It took too long to get," Ortiz told him. "But you go right ahead."
"Don't mind if I do," Tony left in a huff.
"Maybe, he'll get this out of his system and we can go someplace else later," Lucas said hopefully.
"Yeah, and maybe they'll make me an admiral tomorrow." Ortiz took a drink of his water.
Lucas looked around. It was fairly dark in there and a cloud of smoke hung in the air. The thing that really captured his attention was the large cages hanging from the ceiling.
"Are there girls inside those cages?" He couldn't believe his eyes.
"Don't get excited. All they are going to do is dance not strip." Ortiz was both bored and annoyed.
"How do you know?" Lucas' tone matched his.
"I read it somewhere. They are called go-go dancers."
"You know almost as much about the sixties as Tony," Lucas teased.
"Yeah, which is nothing at all." He looked around and added, "These girls are too skinny and what's with the the white lipstick? They look like corpses. I like my girls to have a pulse," he grossed.
"And to be a little more -uh- top heavy?" Lucas teased.
In spite of Ortiz' insistence that girls in the club did not appeal to him he drew his usual crowd of flirtatious females. Lucas and Tony had happily made do with his castoffs in the past. After he had politely kissed off the fourth contender for his affections he seemed a little embarrassed. "Must be the hair," he explained. "They liked long hair in the sixties."
"I thought you didn't know anything about the sixties," Lucas complained. The only female that had approached him was the waitress and he had bought another beer each time.
Ortiz stuck to water but did hungrily devour the brownies each girl had given him. He'd offered some to Lucas but Lucas had no taste for brownies with beer.
By time Tony finally returned, Lucas was opening up his fifth beer. He had a rather stupid grin on his face. Ortiz was starring intently at the layers of colored wax that had dripped down the chianti bottle on their table. The brownies had made him ravenously hungry and he'd eagerly accepted every one the girls had to offer. Lucas had warned him he'd get fat but he wolfed down at least a dozen. He never accepted the invitations to join the girls and "do the Passion Pit" citing the fact that he was with friends. He actually did not want to admit to the fact that he did not know what the Passion Pit was. He was guessing it was a dance.
"What's with him?" Tony asked.
"Who knows? He says he thinks he can figure out how to fly."
"What?" Tony laughed. "What's he been drinkin'? Had to be more than these beers."
"Those are my beers," Lucas said proudly. "Every last one of 'um! He's just been drinking water."
Tony looked dubious. "You sure?"
"Yeah and pigging out on brownies and telling girls he didn't want to go do the Passion Pit, whatever the hell that is."
"The Passion Pit," Tony murmured letting the pleasant memory pass realizing it was not the sort of place to dwell on with Lucas along.
"What is it?"
"It's a place in the backroom but you don't want to go there. You could end up with your pants around your knees having sex in public."
"What?!!"
"It was the free love generation. They didn't believe in inhibition. 'If it feels good do it' was their motto."
"Maybe I haven't been giving the sixties a fair chance."
"Lucas, they also didn't believe in any kind of protection, if you get my drift. Being as everyone slept around you might wind up with a very sorry cowboy. You wanna go to Wendy and explain how you picked up VD? To say nothing of the more permanent complications ranging from premature parenthood to the Big A. It's not wiped out everywhere, you know. "
"Well, he didn't go. Neither did I," Lucas said proudly, neglecting to add that he had not been asked, a situation he was finding more than a tad bit annoying. Still, how could people have sex in public?
"Wouldn't they get arrested?" he asked.
"Who?"
"The people that, you know, did it in public."
"Who'd tell? Everyone in the Passion Pit is getting it on. That's what it's designed for."
"You mean there's a bunch of people.....?"
"You can go watch if you want."
"No, I'm no pervert!"
Tony's attention was once more drawn to Ortiz. He'd spoken to him twice but Ortiz was totally oblivious to his surroundings. Tony looked closer. Ortiz' face was less than two inches from the candle but his eyes were completely dilated as if he was in a dark room. "Teez, what are you looking at?"
"The flame is dancing," Ortiz said simply. "I wonder if it will dance on me." He stuck his finger into the flame and left it there.
"Are you nuts?!" Tony yanked his hand out of the flame. "You're going to burn yourself!"
"Burn, Baby, burn." Ortiz giggled remembering something else he'd read about the sixties.
"Are you sure he's just been drinking water?" Tony looked at the two water bottles on the table.
He wondered if one of the girls he'd turned down had slipped him something in revenge. Then he remembered something that made his pulse quicken. "Tell me you didn't say he's been eating brownies."
"He has. Must have had a dozen," Lucas said pleasantly.
"Holy shit, Lucas! Sober up, we HAVE to get him back to the boat."
"Why? We still got hours left on our liberty," Lucas whined.
"Ortiz is stoned."
"He hasn't even been drinking," Lucas scoffed.
"Eating a dozen magic brownies, he don't need to drink. He's flying high. Look at his eyes."
"What are magic brownies?"
"Brownies laced with hashish."
"They wiped that out with the Defoliation Program of 2003," Lucas laughed.
"Yeah, and the clever junkies came up with the synthetic stuff which was three times more powerful."
"Tony, he's too smart to do drugs."
"He THOUGHT he was eating Brownies. Come on, we gotta get him back to the boat. I don't know how to deal with this. He's gonna need some kind of medical intervention. He's liable to flip out on us."
"You got sixties on the brain."
"Ortiz won't have anything on his brain if he freaks."
"Will you speak English?" Lucas was losing interest in this conversation. There was a girl at the bar staring at him. Him! Not Ortiz.
While Lucas and Tony were talking, Ortiz decided that he wondered what fire tasted like. He leaned toward the flame with his tongue out as if he were approaching an ice cream cone.
"EEEiiiiii," Tony yanked his head back. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"I want to taste it," Ortiz explained as if it were obvious.
"That's it. On your feet. Right now!" Tony roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him up.
"I don't want to dance. I don't know any of these dances," Ortiz pointed out.
Lucas found the whole situation uproariously funny.
"You don't have time to dance anyway, we gotta get back to the boat," Tony explained patiently trying to keep him on an even keel.
"I thought we had lots of time yet," Ortiz was puzzled.
"Yeah, but you operate on Cuban time, remember?"
"That's right," Ortiz giggled. "I do."
"Take my word for it, it's time to go."
"Okay," Ortiz agreed.
"Come on, Lucas," Tony hissed at him.
Lucas was still laughing as Tony steered Ortiz toward the door. As they passed the bar Lucas decided to approach the girl who had been making eye contact with him.
"I really get into this sixties stuff," he told her.
"Me too," she agreed. "Things were so difference then. Everything was open and honest. No stupid games."
"I couldn't agree more." He was emphatic. "To that end, would you like to sleep with me?"
"You think because I like sixties' music I'm one of these hippie tramps!" The girl was incensed.
"Of course not," Lucas assured her. "You obviously have breasts."
Tony had noticed he wasn't right behind them and came back looking for him. The pattern on a barstool completely absorbed Ortiz at the moment. Tony caught Lucas as he swayed completely off balance by the slap the girl landed on his unsuspecting face.
"Hey!" Lucas rubbed his sore cheek. "That was totally ungravy."
"That's groovy, you half wit," Tony was exasperated.
"I am NOT a half wit. I have an IQ of almost 200!"
"Well, you must have left most of 'um back on the boat. Which is where we gotta get Ortiz."
"I don't want to go back. I want to party on, dude."
"Wrong decade. Look, I'll make a deal with you. You help me get him back and then the two of us can go someplace else. Anywhere you want."
"Deal," Lucas agreed eagerly. "Where is he?"
"He was right -- oh shit! We gotta find him." Before Tony could really panic they did find him. One of the girls who'd been feeding him brownies stood whispering into his ear. She had him by the hand and was inching her way to the back room.
Tony intervened. "That's enough, sister. Find yourself another pigeon. This one's going back to the boat."
"They really get uptight when we're late," Ortiz explained sweetly. "Our XO will blow his cool."
"My God! He speaks the language!" Lucas couldn't believe it. "He said he doesn't know anything about the sixties."
Tony hooked one arm under Ortiz' and grabbed Lucas' shirt with the other."Come on. We are out of here."
"No. No," Ortiz corrected him. "We gotta split."
"Split what?" Lucas was mildly curious.
"He means we gotta go." Tony fought for patience as he dragged them closer to the door.
"Me too," Lucas said with conviction but Tony ignored him. His first hurdle was in sight - the door. Once he had gotten these two out of here he'd start feeling better.
Once out on the street, however, things did not improve. Lucas staggered and Ortiz stumbled. "I think I forgot how to walk," Ortiz stated simply.
"We'll help ya, Pal, but we gotta get going," Tony assured him nervously.
"Sometimes I just forget things," Ortiz went on conversationally. "Like, for instance, I'm pretty sure I used to know how to fly but now I can't quite remember how. It's the dardest thing."
"You're startin' to scare me, Ortiz," Tony told him.
There was a nice quiet park in the center of the colony that they could go through as Tony remembered. It would be a short cut back to the docking area and there would be fewer witnesses to the bizarre behavior Ortiz was exhibiting.
Lucas was drunk but drunk he could handle. He breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the park. Things almost seemed as though they might work out after all when they came upon a fountain in the center of the park.
"What is this place?" Ortiz asked almost mystically. He walked up to it and let the gentle spray hit his face.
"It's called the Fountain of Wishes," Tony patiently read the sign.
"It works! I got my wish. Look at the size of that urinal," Lucas whistled.
"Don't be crude," Tony used one of Lucas' favorite phrases for him.
"This isn't crude," Lucas told him. "This is convenient 'cause boy, do I ever need one. I gotta pee so bad I can taste it."
"What the HELL are you doing?!" Tony gasped .
"I told ya. I gotta take a whiz."
"Not in a public fountain," Tony's voice cracked with exasperation.
"When you gotta go - you gotta go." Lucas threw one of Tony's own favorite expressions in his face.
"He's so young," Ortiz commented throwing his arm around Lucas' shoulder paternally. "So young. I was young once," Ortiz mused "I would have liked to stay young longer."
"Don't squeeze me or we'll both be sorry," Lucas warned.
"There's a public restroom over there," Tony pointed out.
"Where?"
"You can't even see your hand in front of your face you're so blitzed. Damn it, I'm not supposed to be the responsible one," Tony complained trying to figure out what to do. "Look, Teez, I need some help here."
"Anything, brother," Ortiz offered. He seemed to be noticing for the first time all the strings of beads the girls had placed around his neck.
"I need you to sit right here on this bench and count the white flagstones. I need to know how many there are but the trick is you have to count them without getting off the bench. Can you do that for me?"
"What are friends for?" Ortiz shrugged allowing Tony to sit him on the bench.
"Hurry up," Lucas urged, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other.
"I gotta go. Lucas is doing the International Dance of Distress. You promise me you won't move."
"I promise," Ortiz agreed raising his right hand. Then a puzzled look came over his face. "Lucas is doing what?"
"He has to water his buffalo."
"He has a buffalo? I thought he just had a dolphin."
"I'm going in the bushes," Lucas threatened.
"Come on," Tony grabbed his arm. "You sit tight," Tony called over his shoulder to Ortiz who smartly saluted.
"You know," Tony told Lucas, "I'm completely sober. I'm going to remember all this tomorrow. And I'm never going to let either one of you live this night down - especially you, you little puke, because you did this to yourself."
"Don't say puke," Lucas hiccuped.
"On no," Tony whimpered as they went into the men's room. "You just do whatever you gotta do but make it quick. Ortiz is a time bomb out there."
When they got back out into the artificial night air, Lucas got his second wind and by the time they got back to the fountain he was singing at the top of his lungs. Tony was relieved to see Ortiz still on the bench. He had his legs stretched out in front of him and looked deep in thought.
"It is the dawning of the age of the hairiest," Lucas bellowed off key. Tony tried to ignore him but Ortiz suddenly jumped up off the bench and grabbed Lucas by the lapels of his loose shirt.
"Mystic crystal revelation and the mind's TRUE LIBERATION!!" Ortiz yelled dramatically.
"Yours has been liberated, that's for sure," Lucas giggled.
"You don't know how many times I read those words over and over but I never understood them till right now," he explained to Tony with tears of joy in his eyes. "I tried to understand them. I really did."
"I know you did, Pal," Tony tried to placate him.
"I never would have understood if it wasn't for you. Thank you, man." He hugged Tony warmly.
Lucas was rolling around on the grass howling with laughter.
"Knock it off," Tony hissed at him.
"It's cool, man. Let him do his own thing," Ortiz smiled.
"Where did you learn this sixties' jargon?" Tony was impressed with his ease of usage.
"I had to do a report about the sixties in sixth grade."
"I don't even remember the sixth grade. But I doubt I ever actually read anything for a report, if I did I sure don't remember it. It's like another language and you speak it with ease."
"I speak English with ease too and it's another language for me."
"You'll be rivalling O'Neill as boat's linguist next," Lucas laughed. "Tell us some more about the sixties, Uncle Miguel."
"United Network Command for Law Enforcement."
"What?" They both asked.
"That's what UNCLE stands for," Ortiz shrugged.
"He's in a time loop," Lucas giggled.
"No cracks from the peanut gallery," Tony glared.
"That's from the fifties - the peanut gallery was where the audience sat on the Howdy Doody Show," Ortiz commented breezily.
"Do you even know where you are?" Tony asked.
"Of course," Ortiz smiled broadly. "Itchycoo Park."
"The sign said St Michael's Park," Lucas commented dourly.
"Itchycoo Park, that's where I've been. Ask me what I did there?"
"What did you do there?" Lucas got into the game.
"I got high!" Ortiz sang on top of his lungs and smiled like the Cheshire Cat.
"Uh oh," Tony feared the worst and he was not disappointed. Ortiz took off at a run down one of the pathways of the park and not the one that would take them to their boat.
When he had a mind to Ortiz could run like the wind and he easily outdistanced his shipmates. He ran on purposefully. He had no idea what his purpose was only that something was calling him that would answer all of his questions. Suddenly he saw it. It was so brilliantly white and yet he could not take his eyes off it. It almost took his breath away. He stared at it transfixed until Tony finally panted up behind him.
"Don't do that, Ortiz," Tony puffed. "Don't go running off like that."
"I'm safe." Ortiz smiled. "I am under the protection of San Miguel." He continued to stare at the statue of St. Michael the Archangel that stood in the clearing. He appeared awestruck which was just as well because Lucas came into the clearing just then. The running had not been good for him. He was gasping for breath and clutching his stomach. His complexion was decidedly green. He eased himself down onto a bench with a groan.
"Don't lie down," Tony hissed at him.
"Why not? I feel awful," Lucas could barely say.
"Because if you're lying down and you pass out and start to hurl you could choke to death." Tony pulled no punches.
Lucas did not pass out but he did lie down and he did get sick. Tony went back to the bench and rolled him onto his side calling him every bad Italian name he could think of. He had barely managed to leap back out of the way which did nothing to improve his mood. His anger gave way to shear terror when he was finally able to turn his attention back to Ortiz. Ortiz had not been content to stare at the statue which, including the huge pedestal, must have been nearly thirty feet tall. He had taken it into his head to climb up onto it. He was pulling himself up onto the wings when Tony spotted him.
"OOORRRTTTIIIZZZ!!!" Tony shrieked.
Ortiz gave him a friendly wave and continued his climb.
"What THEE HELL are you doing?"
"I just realized it," Ortiz explained pleasantly. "San Miguel would help me remember. He's my saint, you know," Ortiz explained proudly.
"St Antony is my saint. The saint that helps you find lost things - like your brains. Will you get down. You'll fall."
"San Miguel won't let me fall," Ortiz assured him. "My sisters always said I was named after that mouse but I knew Mama would have never done that," he laughed. "San Miguel is my saint and he's going to help me remember."
"Ortiz," Tony tried to reason with him, "I gotta admit I'm not too good with heights, could you please come down here. I'll help you remember whatever it is. I swear."
"If I forgot how to swim, you'd be my man," Ortiz smiled warmly. "But I remember how to swim. I'm trying to remember how to fly."
"Oh my God!" Tony paled. He ran up to the base of the statue. Although he had always kept it a secret, he had a morbid fear of heights. He didn't let it deter him. He pulled himself up onto the thing. He had to reach Ortiz before he decided that he did remember how to fly and plunged 30 feet to the pavement below him. The higher Tony got the harder it became to stave off the panic attack that threatened to overcome him.
He tried to use anger to fight it. Why was it his lot in life to see drunks home safely? He'd grown up in New York City. He couldn't even count the times his mother had sent him out to all the neighborhood bars in search of his father. Even after he finally found him, getting him home was a monumental task. Sometimes he'd be so angry when he managed it that he spoke to his father in ways a kid should not address an adult.
His mother would always crack him one and then help the old man to bed so he could sleep it off. It's not his fault, Tony, she'd try to explain. He was a good man once and a good cop. He had all kinds of awards to prove he'd been a good cop - he had them till he pawned them to buy booze. It had been one case that had ended his father's career. It was the case of a serial killer whose victim of choice was a small boy. His father had finally cracked the case but not before last victim died in his arms. The boy was five years old just as Tony had been at the time. The similarity between this little boy and his own had caused Tony's father to crack. He had killed the perp and he was no longer considered fit for the NYPD. Being a cop had been Nick Piccolo's life. He fell into the bottle and had never really managed to crawl back out.
Tony had had his eyes closed. He forced himself to open them. He had to, otherwise Ortiz would be talking to the angels for real. He reached his hand up to get a handhold to pull himself up even higher. He told himself not to look down but he never listened, even to himself. He did look down at the park below him. What he saw coming down the path toward him gave him a little ray of hope - especially since Ortiz was no longer speaking sixties and had lapsed into Spanish while he conversed with the head of the statue.
"O'Neill," he tried to yell but his mouth was so dry that almost no sound came out. He swallowed and wet his lips. He concentrated for a second and then yelled the Lieutenant's name at the top of his lungs.
La Rangia had excellent library and research facilities as it had been founded as a writer's colony. Tim had spent his entire liberty pouring over volumes long out of print and never put onto disks. He had lost all track of time and would have, undoubtedly, been at it still if the library had not closed. Once he stopped he realized he was hungry. In his haste he had left the boat with very little money so he was heading back there to eat and look over the info he had scanned into his personal laptop. He was startled from his reverie by the sound of his name being called. It took him a minute to focus in on reality. He looked around.
"Lieutentant. Up here. Please help!"
"Tony! What in the world are you doing up there? Come down this minute!" O'Neill assumed Tony was up to vandalism or some other form of adolescent behavior.
"Nothin' would please me more, sir, honest. But there's a problem."
O'Neill looked at Tony closely. He was pale and sweaty and yet he shivered slightly. O'Neill recognized those symptoms. He had plenty of phobias of his own. "You're afraid of heights," he surmised.
"Yes sir," Tony admitted somewhat sheepishly.
This was one of the few phobias Tim did not have. He didn't bother to ask how Tony had gotten where he was or why, he just knew he had to help him get down before a panic attack caused him to lose his grip. He put his beloved laptop down with a sigh. "It's all right, Tony. I'll come get you."
"I'm not worried about me, sir. It's him." He pointed to Ortiz.
O'Neill followed Tony's finger. When he saw Ortiz his pale complexion got even paler. He hurriedly climbed up onto the statue. "Miguel!" His voice rose three full octaves. "What in the world are you doing?"
"I think he's in Spanish mode," Tony said as O'Neill got close to his position.
"Are you all right?"
"Terror has me holding on tight. Go after him. He thinks the statue is going to tell him how to fly."
"WHAT has he been drinking?"
"It ain't what he drank. Some girls gave him brownies that were - ah - tainted."
"Tainted?"
"They were laced with drugs," Tony admitted
"Damn it to Hell!" O'Neill swore. Tony didn't know O'Neill even knew any cuss words much less when to use them. But it showed Tony that he, too, realized the seriousness of the situation. "Miguel," he called. In Spanish he told him to wait for him.
Ortiz asked him if he, too, wanted to fly and he assured him that that was the case. O'Neill pulled himself up.
Tony didn't know what the two had said to each other but he could tell Ortiz was beginning to lose patience with waiting. "Hey, Ortiz, sing us another song from the sixties," he urged to keep him busy while O'Neill continued to climb.
"I'll sing you one my grandfather taught me," he volunteered. He was speaking English but with a very detectable accent. He launched into a song even Tony was not familiar with. It was about a guy and his grandfather on a boat. Luckily it was a fairly long song, giving O'Neill time to scale the statue - a much harder feat for a sober person. Ortiz sang it well and his voice carried across the park.
Captain Bridger had invited Commander Ford and Doctor Smith to dinner in a plush restaurant he knew of in a high class section of La Rangia. They had had such a nice time that they decided to walk back to the boat through the park. They had run into Dagwood just outside the park and they were all going back to seaQuest together. The sound of singing drew them to the part of the park known as St Michael's square.
The large statue drew their immediate attention - so did what was happening on the statue.
"Tell me I'm not seeing this," Bridger gasped.
"What are they doing?" Dagwood asked innocently.
"Getting ready to get thrown in the brig," Ford told him through clenched teeth.
Ortiz had finished the song and was doing a preflight test of the wind with a wet finger.
"No, Miguel, wait for me," O'Neill tried not to sound as panicked as he felt.
Tony saw what was happening and struggled to continue his own climb up to Ortiz' lofty position.
"If there's enough of them left to throw in the brig," Wendy worried.
"I'll go get them," Ford sighed, realising his dress uniform would be badly soiled in the process.
But before the commander could act, Dagwood ran up to the statue and scaled it with ease that defied his size. Tony had just joined Ortiz and O'Neill at the top and Ortiz had just figured out that they intended to stop him. He was beginning to struggle. They could barely hold him. He was incredibly strong under the influence of the drug.
Wendy screamed as the three of them nearly toppled from their precarious perch. In the nick of time Dagwood reached them. Ortiz' strength was no match for Dagwood's and finally even Ortiz came to realize it.
Tony and O'Neill had let go of Ortiz once Dagwood had him. Tony held onto the statue's head for dear life and O'Neill held onto Tony with one hand fearing he might give into the panic he knew he was feeling.
"But I wanted to fly," Ortiz sobbed as a crying jag overtook him.
"Okay," Dagwood said simply. He got a tight grip on Ortiz and jumped off the top of the statue.
Ortiz, O'Neill, Tony and Wendy all screamed bloodcurdling screams. Bridger and Ford stared open-mouthed. All had forgotten that daggers or GELFs were designed to be fighting machines. They had the capability of taking even 100 foot falls with ease. Using his knees as shock absorbers, Dagwood landed with the agility of a cat. Ortiz' eyes were the size of saucers. He clung to Dagwood like a drowning man. He jabbered away in Spanish.
"What's he saying?" Dagwood asked not understanding that his jump had scared the rest of them to death.
It took O'Neill a minute to find his voice. When he did he translated. "He says he has to go to the bathroom."
"Who doesn't after that stunt?" Bridger asked still in something of a state of shock.
Wendy went over to examine Ortiz. Ford climbed up to help O'Neill help Tony down. Only then did Bridger look around the clearing. He saw Lucas lying on a bench and stormed up to him. He was angry and it had to come out on someone. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded, although the answer was obvious.
"I'm dying, Captain," Lucas said in a small voice.
"No, you're not. Come on get up. You're going back to the boat. There's every chance the four of you will be clocking some serious time in the brig." He yanked Lucas to an upright position. It was a serious mistake and the Captain was not as capable as Tony was at getting out of the way. "Dammit, Lucas!" he swore angrily.
"Sorry about your shoe," Lucas apologized when he was able.
"Not the brig!" Bridger vowed. "You four will be spending the next two weeks in the ship's laundry!"
O'Neill and Tony approached. "Sir," Tony began, "Lt. O'Neill was not involved in this. He just happened along and was trying to help get Ortiz down."
"Is that true, Lieutenant?"
"Ah yes, sir."
"My apologies, Lieutenant, I should have known you would have had better sense than this. I'm a little surprised at Ortiz."
"This isn't really his fault either, sir," Tony said without making eye contact with his captain
"Why aren't you in the same condition as they are or have you had a chance to sober up?"
"Sir, I'd like to point out that Tony went up after Miguel even though he is terrified of heights," O'Neill said in Tony's behalf. He knew how much strength it took to overcome that kind of fear.
"This sounds like a long story," Bridger steered Tony to a bench as far from Lucas as they could get. "See that our computer specialist doesn't choke to death," Bridger told O'Neill.
"Aye sir." O'Neill retrieved his laptop then kept an eye on Lucas - from a safe distance.
Bridger sat Tony on the bench. "Start at the beginning," he demanded.
Tony knew that his calm voice was forced and the captain was still very angry. It was no time for fancy excuses. He decided to tell him the plain unvarnished truth.
"Sir." Tony suddenly felt all of his emotions rushing to the surface. "All I wanted to do this leave was to go to a little club I know and listen to some sixties music."
"The Happening? Is that still here?"
"You KNOW about the Happening?!"
"It's one of Admiral Noyce's favorite spots in the whole world. I can't count the number of times he's dragged me into that place."
"ADMIRAL NOYCE?!!"
"Sure. He's a sixties buff too."
The shock of knowing that one of his favorite spots was also a favorite of an admiral and that Bridger himself had even been there made Tony forget the story he was in the midst of. He pushed all thoughts of the Passion Pit out of his head. The images were just too frightening.
"Go on," Bridger coaxed impatiently.
"Well, uh, I dragged them there and they didn't really like it so they got a table as far away from the band as possible. I wanted to hear it so I went up to the stage and listened to a couple of sets. I guess I never should have left them alone. Lucas got bombed on beer. He - he tried to pee in a public fountain. I had to take him to the can. When we got back Ortiz had decided he could fly."
"He wasn't drinking just beer," Bridger declared.
"That's the thing of it, sir, he was just drinking water."
"Tony, what do you take me for?"
"Sir, I don't know how it was when you there, but these days some girls ah give out brownies that are ah----"
"The stupid fool ate magic brownies?!"
"Sir, it's my fault, I forgot to tell him. He thought they were just brownies."
"Oh for---" Bridger got up an went over to where Dagwood had Ortiz laying on the ground so Wendy could check him over. Wendy was exasperated, "Nathan, he's not drunk. I don't see why..."
"He's on hashish."
"He knows better than that." She was doubtful. "Besides where would he get it?"
"This place started out as a writers' and artists' colony. You know the creative community has always looked upon hallucinogens in a different light than the rest of us."
"He didn't know the brownies were laced with it," Tony told her.
"What's this?" Bridger picked up some of the several strands of tiny beads that Ortiz wore.
"Love beads, sir. They were real popular in the sixties. They are harmless," Tony informed him.
"In the sixties maybe they were harmless - not in the Happening. My God! He's got six different patterns here."
"So?"
"So, Tony each girl that works the club has a different bead pattern - it means he was targeted by six different females."
"Females?" Wendy asked icily.
"The girls from the club have been making a healthy living filing paternity suits against the Navy for the last twenty or so years. That place really should be put on the off limits list. Tony was up at the stage and Lucas was obviously drunk. When we get back to the boat you'd better test him for everything short of pregnancy," Bridger advised Wendy.
"Not me," Wendy vowed. "I think a little of Lt. Albright's bedside manner would be in order. Blood, tissue and other samples can be gotten painlessly or in a manner which scares young men into keeping their blood flowing in the direction of their brain."
Tony's eyes widened.
"Wendy," the rather nervous voice of O'Neill called, drawing Wendy away to tend Lucas.
"Maybe he should get the same treatment," Bridger fumed.
"He doesn't have any beads," Tony pointed out, "and I personally witnessed his smooth technique earning him a slap in the face."
"If the doctor decides to run a medical procedure, who am I to argue?" Bridger asked.
"Sir," Tony desperately wanted to save his friends. "Lucas told me Ortiz was refusing to go to the Passion Pit. Lucas didn't even know what it was till I told him. I really don't see how they could have contracted anything."
"They both contracted a sometimes fatal disease," Wendy told him quietly as Bridger went back to Ortiz.
"What?!" Tony gasped ready to faint.
"Their captain's anger."
"What the hell is "bro" and why does he keep calling me that?" Ford demanded in frustration.
"Jonathan," Bridger had to laugh, "you are terminally uncool."
"If this is cool, I'm glad," Ford vowed.
"I know jou!" Ortiz brightened when he looked up into Bridger's bearded face.
"He's sort of stuck between languages," O'Neill explained as he and a rather grayish Lucas joined them.
"I should hope he knows me." Bridger wanted to show O'Neill he understood that much and would not require an interpreter.
"You're Jerry Garcia!" Ortiz' voice was full of awe.
"GET HIM BACK TO THE BOAT!!!!" Bridger yelled.
"Who's Jerry Garcia?" Dagwood asked Lucas. He always assumed anyone as smart as Lucas knew all the answers. Lucas was beginning to realize he hadn't even figured out the questions yet but was unwilling to let Dagwood know that.
"He and some guy named Ben used to make ice cream," he told Dagwood.
Tony had the urge to laugh out loud but he didn't quite dare. It almost looked as if he might get out of this unscathed which was more than Ortiz and Lucas were probably going to be able to say. If Bridger didn't lower the boom on him between here and the boat he was probably safe.
Maybe when he got back he'd wander down to the galley and tell that ornery old Mess Chief McGill (or as he called her behind her back Magilla Gorilla) - that her dear friend Ortiz was in med bay. Everyone on the boat was afraid of McGill including the Captain. And for some reason, she liked Ortiz. That damn Ortiz charm! There was just no explaining it. Tony might just suggest McGill fix him some brownies.
It would serve Ortiz right. After all, all he had wanted was to groove to some sixties sounds. He thought he'd gotten the jargon right. He'd have to ask Ortiz. Some time in the next month or so, when he got over being mad at him.
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