This story has been split into three parts due to length.

Covert Operations

by Rogue

Author's website: http://moodyblusr.com/roguesgallery.html

Author's notes and disclaimers can be found in Part One.

Covert Operations -- Part Two

Ellison was worried and that was all there was to it. They'd been on the water scouting mission for almost 45 minutes and so far, the kid hadn't said a word. He was about to comment on it when he heard water trickling somewhere nearby. "I hear water; follow me and stay close, Sandburg," he said quietly.

Blair did as he was told.

Eventually, they found a small pool of water that was fed by a small stream. Jim used the lantern to check it over and then smiled, satisfied. He squatted, uncapping one of the survival pack canteens. He was about to dip it into the water when Blair said, "No! Stop!"

Jim froze instantly, then twisted to look over his shoulder at the younger man.

Sandburg crouched and then placed his hand over Jim's, the one holding the lantern. He flicked it on, then guided the light to shine on a clump of mushrooms that were growing in the moss right at the water's edge. "See those? Now look at the water again; can you see the slightly oily sheen on the surface near the mushrooms?"

"Yeah, Chief. Why, what's up?" Ellison said.

"Those are amanitas, a highly poisonous group of mushrooms. The amatoxins of amanitas cause severe abdominal cramps, nausea, vomiting, and violent diarrhea. Jaundice and cyanosis often develop, followed by coma and death. That's caused when the mushrooms are ingested, but the toxins have clearly bled into the water by soaking so close to it. The results will probably be toned down, but they'll still happen if we end up drinking the water from this point," Blair explained.

Jim grimaced. "Goddamn," he muttered. "Thank God you came along on this trip. I could've poisoned us all! So, the best we can do is take the water coming directly from the stream?"

Blair nodded. "We should scout at least a mile further upstream, so I can see if there's anything else to look out for. If everything looks fine, we come back to the three-quarter mark and fill the canteens up there."

The Captain nodded. "Good plan, Chief. Let's do it."

The two US Army men walked for a mile up the streambed, found nothing else to poison them that had seeped into the water. Blair took a quick taste and tasted nothing dangerous, and so they set about filling up the canteens.

"When we get back to camp, I want you to find a comfortable spot and get some sleep immediately. I'll check on the others, make certain they're okay, and then me and Williams will probably argue as to who's going to keep watch. I'm fit for it and can stay awake, whereas he should be resting, but knowing him, he'll insist that a broken arm and ribs aren't going to slow him down any," Jim said quietly as he capped one of the canteens and began filling another.

"But, what about the ... others?" Blair asked just as quietly, not looking at his Captain.

"What about them?"

"Aren't we going to pull them from the wreckage, too?"

Ellison turned to look at the young man in his charge and waited until the Private was looking back at him. "Yeah, Chief, we are, but not tonight. I'm going to wait until tomorrow morning, when there's daylight, to get their burials accomplished. As crass as it sounds, there's no point in risking further injury tonight in removing people who no longer care as to what position they're in."

Sandburg was silent for a long moment, then nodded and turned back to his task of filling the canteens. "Yes, sir. That makes sense."

I'd better hurry this up and get him back to camp. From the sounds of it, shock is really starting to set in and I can't carry him and the canteens back in the jungle at night if he passes out on me, the older man thought to himself.

Soon they were trekking their way back, neither of them making a sound. It was a good call on Ellison's part to hurry because as soon as they set foot back in the camp, Blair made a soft, strangled sound in his throat and crumpled, pitching forward towards the ground.

Jim caught him, bracing Sandburg up against his side and then letting the kid slide gently to the ground. "Shit!" he hissed.

"Cap'n?" Williams' voice called quietly.

Flicking on the lantern to briefly illuminate his face, Ellison nodded and then shut off the light. "It's me, Doug. Blair just passed out on me."

A quiet sigh sounded and then Sarris spoke up. "I'm not surprised. What does surprise me is how long he held out. Well, might as well haul his skinny ass over here and get him comfortable for the evening, but first, you should see to Stevens."

Jim went still. "Oh?"

"He's dead, Jim," was the quiet reply. "He died a few minutes before you got back."

The Captain sighed and hung his head for a moment. "Dammit." Then he pulled himself together and walked over to the small group. He set the bag containing the canteens on the ground and then placed the lantern between Williams and Sarris and flicked it on. He went over to Stevens and dragged the newly dead Ranger over to join MacKecknie, then covered him completely with the blanket as he muttered a short, soft prayer. Moving quickly, he grabbed two of the unused blankets and spread one on the ground, then went back over to Blair. He scooped the younger man up, carried him over, and then set him down on the blanket, then covered him with the second one. Emptying the canteens from the survival pack they'd used, he then slipped the slightly less full bag underneath Blair's head. He took a moment to study the Private, then stood and said, "He'll be okay; he just needs to sleep."

The other two agreed and then, as Jim had predicted, he and Williams got into an argument over who would take the first watch. Of course, Jim won, much to the other man's disgusted grumbling, while Sarris merely laughed quietly at their antics.

The next morning, Blair slowly opened his eyes as he listened to the sound of birds cawing and shrieking somewhere nearby. Sunlight filtered down through the leaves of the trees overhead and the sky was bright blue, the air warm and humid and a delight to his perpetually chilled skin. For a moment, he thought he'd dreamed about the crash and the dead bodies and the injured bodies and the late-night water trek, until he heard a rough, irritated voice say, "Mornin', Sandburg. Glad you could join us. What's left of us."

Bolting upright, Blair looked around from where he sat on the ground. Ahead of him was the chopper wreck, garishly ugly and terrifyingly real in the bright light of day. Next to him sat Doug Williams, his eyes bloodshot and morning stubble covering his cheeks and chin. He looked impatient, cranky, and generally out of sorts. Sarris lay next to Williams on the other side, apparently sound asleep. A few yards away, off to Blair's left, lay two discarded blankets with no sign of bodies anywhere and he felt his heart thump painfully as he realized that Stevens had died at some point in the night. He glanced around again, looking for Jim. "Where's the Captain?"

Williams gestured to the dense jungle behind them. "He's burying the dead. In fact, he's probably done by now. It's 1100 hours and he's been at it since the sun came up about five hours ago."

"Shit!" Blair cursed, and he peeled back the blanket that was covering him and rolled up onto his knees. "He should've got me up to help him-"

"Sit down, Junior," Ellison said as he walked slowly into the clearing. "I didn't wake you up on purpose so you wouldn't have to see. They were in a very messy condition."

"All the more reason to help you, sir," Blair argued. "You shouldn't have had to do that alone-"

"Enough, Sandburg!" the older man said, cutting him off again in mid-reply. "I made the decision, and it's done. Now, if you're rested enough, see what you can do about scouting us out some edible berries or nuts or something to go with our rations. We're going to limit what we eat from our survival packs, combine it with whatever you find. I don't want to start any fires right now, so no animals will be hunted yet, okay?"

"Perfectly fine with me, sir," Blair replied. He was pragmatist enough to realize that meat would be a source of protein they would need eventually, but he still grimaced inwardly at the thought of killing something and then cleaning it so he could then eat it.

"Good. And stop calling me 'sir', dammit," the captain growled as Blair got to his feet.

Sandburg took a moment to look his commanding officer over. Jim looked deathly pale and utterly exhausted. He had the same red-rimmed eyes and stubble appearance Williams had, but it was obvious that the injured Ranger had slept at some point in the night, whereas Ellison had not. Blair quickly stretched the kinks out of his muscles and then said, "You should get some sleep, Jim; I'll be back soon with something to eat."

"I'll wait until I've actually eaten something, Chief. Now get going." Jim didn't want to say that he was going to remain awake until he knew the kid was back here in the camp and somewhat safe; he worried it would stir up something stubborn in the younger man, and that was trouble he didn't need right now.

Nodding, Blair gathered up a survival pack, a canteen, and one of the rifles when Jim gestured to it. He took a quick drink of water, then wandered off into the jungle, pausing once he was out of sight to take a ferocious piss, then continuing on back toward the stream where he'd seen a few bushes that looked promising last night.

Williams watched as Jim tiredly lowered himself to Blair's vacated blanket nest. "You look like someone beat you to a pulp and then took a shit on you," he opined bluntly.

"Thank you for that completely pointless and self-evident evaluation," Jim snapped back. "That is, after all, pretty much exactly what happened."

"Yeah, Cap'n. So, what I'd like to know is, if these terrorist rebels weren't supposed to have high-tech, how'd we get down here like this?"

Ellison shook his head. "I dunno, Doug. Among other things we're going to do on this mission, we're also going to try to find out what the hell went wrong."

"Maybe our information was faulty. Maybe they got a supply of high-tech while we were en route and there was no way we could've known about it beforehand," Williams said, taking a sip of his water and then re-capping the canteen.

"Or maybe," a ragged voice said huskily, "there was a leak somewhere."

Both Jim and Williams looked over at Sarris, who blinked his eyes at them sleepily, then closed them again. The other two men exchanged glances, then Jim said quietly, "Like who, Sarris?"

"Well, the obvious answer is Sandburg."

Ellison felt his blood begin to boil. "Now, hold on. Just because he's a baby green and had a 'free love' childhood doesn't mean-"

"Jim, I know. Listen to me, okay? I said, it's the obvious answer. Think about it; none of us were supposed to have survived. I've done some thinking on this and what better cover-up than a kid like Sandburg? With his childhood and personality, no one would really think to look twice; all they'd see is some neo-hippie kid who flipped out and somehow sabotaged the mission," Sarris replied.

The three men went silent as they thought about it and then Jim said, "That doesn't make sense, Sarris. The only person on our end of this mission who knew anything about it and who would be in on it was Colonel Oliver."

"Which doesn't mean anything. You know there are schemes, scams, and cover-ups going on in all the branches of the military. We are proof of that! But, if it isn't Oliver, then it has to be a leak somewhere here in Peru, and that's way too much ground to cover. And besides, you've heard the rumors about Oliver. There's too many stories about sneaky deals and shady doings attached to that man."

Jim frowned deeply. He'd heard the rumors, too, but had avoided listening too closely. He didn't have the time, patience, or inclination to get caught up in the scuttlebutt that was inevitable in the Army. But could it be possible that Oliver had...? "I don't know," he said quietly. "Why would he assemble a team he himself helped to train just to destroy them? If he wanted to make use of a highly trained group of Special Ops men, we'd be more use to him alive than dead."

"Not always," Sarris retorted. "We were brought down in an ambush when there should've been no chance of that. And who'd we get our intelligence information from? Oliver. He could've fed us the wrong stuff, man."

"And we're stuck down here in the jungle; how in hell are we supposed to go digging into that mess? Especially as shot up as we are," Williams protested.

"Hey, we're Rangers, right? That's gotta count for something," Sarris replied.

"Not all of us."

"But he's a good kid, and damn smart, too. He'll pick up anything we care to teach him fast as greased lightning, how much you wanna bet?"

"Guys, try to keep in mind that the kid is only in the Army for another year at best. We'll teach him the basics, but I'd rather not do anything that will cause permanent mental scarring later on, all right? We're built for it; he's not," Jim said. What he didn't add was that he really didn't want to see someone with Sandburg's innocent enthusiasm become as sullied and jaded as the rest of them.

"Yeah, but-"

Before Williams could add anything further, however, Blair interrupted them. "Uh, Captain?"

Turning their heads, all three Rangers saw Blair standing at the edge of the clearing, surrounded by darkly tanned men in face and body paint and cloth skirts that fell to their knees. All of them wore weapons in the form of crossbows or knives or both. They stared unblinkingly at the Army men.

Jim was on his feet in less than a second, Williams and Sarris tensing as the former reached for his rifle. Jim motioned him to stop, then turned again to face the young private and their "guests."

"These men would like to have a talk with us," Blair said, a small smile tugging on his lips.

Jim stared into dark brown eyes, listening as the man who owned them spoke rapidly in Quechua. When he had fallen silent, the captain turned to Blair, who stood beside him.

"He says his name is Incacha, and he is the Shaman for the Chopec tribe," Blair repeated dutifully. "He wants to know why the night sky was lit up as brightly as the day and very loud with terrible thunder; also why we would make the jungle cry from pain with our great bird."

Returning his gaze to the Shaman, Jim replied, "Tell him that my name is Jim Ellison and that I am the leader of a mission to stop a group of hostile men who want to do great damage to this region and other areas. Tell him that our vehicle was brought down without our permission in an unfair attack, causing death and pain to the men on this mission."

Blair repeated his words in the Quechua, then waited for Incacha's answer. When it finally came, Jim's eyebrow rose when, at the end of it, the younger man appeared startled by something Incacha said.

Turning to his Captain, Sandburg said, "Incacha says that they have seen those you speak of and have already lost men to these invaders and that his tribe has been forced to pull back from their territory. He says that if we are here to stop them, then they will join us." He halted for a moment, then looked up at Jim with an expression that looked like confused recognition. "He ... he also said that they have been waiting for you, Sentinel."

Both of Jim's eyebrows winged up at that, but he merely relayed his thanks through Blair.

It was later, as the band of Chopec, Rangers, and Blair were trekking through the jungle back toward the tribe's village, that Jim glanced down at the young man walking next to him. "Hey, Chief...."

"Yeah, Jim?" Blair said, looking up.

"When Incacha called me 'sentinel', you seemed almost to know what he was talking about. Care to let me know what that might be?"

Blair bit his lip and glanced away. "It's ... well, I dunno if it really means anything, sir. It's probably just coincidence pertaining to something I've been studying since I was about twelve."

"Twelve, huh? Well, clue me in. It might not be something, but it also might be, and I'd really like to know what in hell that witch doctor was talking about," Jim said, reaching out with one long, muscular arm to lift a low-lying branch out of the way of their path. He stepped to one side to allow the tribal warriors carrying the makeshift stretcher that held Sarris on it to pass, then resumed walking beside Blair again.

"Well, okay. When I was twelve, I was reading an old Anthropology book and I ran across this monograph by Sir Richard Burton ... the explorer, not the actor. It's over a hundred years old. Anyway, the idea goes something like this - in all tribal cultures every village had what Burton named a Sentinel. Now this was someone who patrolled the border."

"You mean a scout."

"No, more like a watchman. You see, the Sentinel would watch for approaching enemies, change in the weather, movement of game. Tribe survival depended on it."

"Okay, got it. What makes someone a Sentinel, anyway?"

"A Sentinel is chosen because of a genetic advantage; a sensory awareness that can be developed beyond normal humans. Now these senses are honed by solitary time spent in the wild. Now at first Burton's monograph was disputed and now it's basically forgotten. I mean, there are certain manifestations today of maybe one or two hyperactive senses, like taste and smell, people who work for coffee and perfume companies. Oh, and in Vietnam, the Army long-range recon units that had to-"

"-change their diet to fish and rice because a Cong scout could smell a Westerner by his waste."

"Right, exactly. There are hundreds and hundreds of documented cases in America of one or two hyperactive senses but not one single subject with all five. Culture has rapidly outpaced nature, to the point in which our society no longer has a need for a Sentinel, or so society thinks. Actually, a Sentinel would be invaluable in helping to protect a city's inhabitants. Just think of it if a cop were a Sentinel! He or she would be a monster; a human crime-lab with organic surveillance equipment! Instead of waiting two or three days for a laboratory with a computer somewhere to fax back chemical analysis reports, the Sentinel could tell simply by one sniff or taste or touch or look. Hell, even hearing, if that's what was required. What could take days would only take a matter of minutes, possibly hours, which would give the Sentinel-cop more time to collar his or her bad guy. You see where I'm going with this?"

Jim grinned at the animated young man who walked beside him, survival pack and rifle slung over his shoulders, hair trimmed into the required buzz-cut, and so totally non-military oriented he practically screamed "free byrd". "Yeah, kid, I see. What I don't understand, however, is why our friendly neighborhood Shaman, there, called me 'Sentinel'. I haven't been left on my own in a long, long time. All my senses are at the normal range. And yeah, I'm the leader of a mission and that makes it my job to look out for everyone and everything, but according to you, the senses are a part of that; a part I don't have."

Blair gave his Captain a quizzical look. "How long ago was it that you were left on your own?"

Ellison shrugged and glanced away, taking note of the heliotrope they passed by. "When I was a kid. My mother left us, and it was just me, my brother, my father, and our housekeeper, Sally. Dad was a businessman, away most of the time; off making money, something he obsessed over. Sally had other things to do besides take care of us, so for the most part, it'd be me and my brother, Stephen. I'd take him out camping or something whenever we started feeling too bored."

Sandburg blinked at this sudden font of information. Jim noted it and asked why he looked so surprised. Grinning sheepishly, Blair said, "Well, like, no offense, man, but you don't give the impression that you have a family."

The Captain snorted and reached out to take a quick swipe at the younger man's head. "You saying I was hatched this way, Chief?"

"Well, if the shell fits..." Blair teased, then laughed and ducked when Jim made to push him off the trail and into the surrounding vegetation.

"Are you pickin' on that child again, Cap'n?" Williams called out, turning carefully to grin at the two of them over his shoulder. Beside him walked one of the Chopec, ready to lend him a hand in case he needed help.

"And what if I am?" Jim taunted, reaching out and hauling Blair close to him, rubbing his knuckles into the younger man's scalp playfully, grinning when Sandburg yelped and tried to squirm away. "Gonna do somethin' about it, wingnut?"

"I might feel real hurt that you're not letting me join in the fun of raggin' on him, but it's not like that'd stop you," was the quick retort.

"Damn straight," Ellison agreed.

"Oh, for ... would you clowns knock it off? It's no fair when I'm laid up like this!" Sarris shouted as loudly as he could from the back, then began coughing.

Jim immediately turned to his friend and fell into step beside the stretcher. He placed one hand over Sarris' chest and said quietly, "Easy, buddy. Just breathe, Sarris, okay? Sorry, man, didn't mean to get you all riled up."

Sarris finished coughing and lay back, looking up tiredly into Jim's eyes. He offered a wan grin. "It's okay, Jim. It'll be okay."

The captain said nothing to this, merely squeezed his friend and part-time lover's shoulder firmly, then moved to catch up to Blair when he noticed Incacha walking alongside the younger man, the two of them talking.

"Am I missing anything?" he asked quietly, not wishing to interrupt what looked to be a serious conversation.

Blair glanced up and shook his head. "We're discussing Sentinels, Jim. There's really nothing you need to know about just yet."

Jim shrugged and turned his gaze away, looking around the jungle vegetation for any signs of hostile activity since he wasn't needed as a participant in the conversation.

Sandburg turned his attention back to the Shaman. "I told you, Incacha, that he hasn't displayed any signs of being a Sentinel," he said in Quechua.

"As long as you've known him, he has not," came the calm reply in the same language. "You haven't known him for long, young one. He was a solitary child. It was then he first became intimate with his powers. He will become intimate with them again; I have seen it."

"How? If he does possess the powers of a Sentinel, it would take a long period of isolation and possibly a frightful happening to bring them back. We've already had a frightful happening, but we're hardly isolated. Not with the Chopec around, not with Williams and Sarris and me around to help him carry on his mission-"

"We will not always be here. The Sentinel will not always be in our village. Not all of his friends will remain for long," Incacha said simply. "Only his Guide will remain."

Blair blinked. "You mean two of his warriors are going to die?"

Incacha nodded. "They are already started on their journey toward death. Nothing will stop that. He will need you to help him through this sorrowful and frightening time."

"Me?!" Blair squeaked in English, so startled he'd forgotten to speak Quechua. At the sound of his voice and the tone of it, Jim's head whipped around, concern and suspicion written on his features.

"Sandburg? What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, Captain," the younger man replied. "Give me a minute...." Again, he spoke in Quechua to the shaman. "Wait a moment! Incacha, how can you be so certain that Sarris and Williams are going to die? Have you seen it in one of your spirit walks?"

The shaman nodded. "I have seen the Sentinel standing alone by the wreck of your great bird. He appeared calm, but in his eyes was a grief and loneliness so great it hurt to witness it. Then you came to him, put your hand upon him, and he turned to you, his fear and grief melting away from him as you reached to share his burden."

"Ah! That doesn't mean they have died; he is very close to these men. They are as brothers to him. Of course he would feel grief and loneliness without them if they were taken back to our territory by other members of our tribe," Blair replied. "Not being ill, I would be the only one to stay and help him to share his burden."

Incacha shook his head. "In my vision, before you came, the Sentinel stood before seven of those markers you and the other warriors left behind near your bird."

Blair felt a chill sweep over him. Currently, there were only five said markers. And if Incacha said he had seen seven.... He shivered, though the air around them was humid and hot enough to make them all sweat.

Jim saw it, saw the fear and worry darkening those incredible blue eyes. "Chief? What is it? And don't tell me it's nothing, I can see that you know something you don't like at all."

Sandburg bit his lip and looked down at the ground. "I'll tell you later, Jim. I don't think I can talk about it right now."

The captain sighed quietly in frustration. "Fine. But you had better let me in on what you know by this evening, Private, or you and me are going to go a couple rounds, you got that?"

"Yes, sir." The response was devoid of the usual sassy tone Blair would have given with that reply and that worried Ellison far more than anything else.

Before he could comment further on it, however, they arrived at the village. As men, women and children paused in their tasks to watch their arrival, Incacha spoke to Blair quickly and then led the way across the village grounds.

"He said that the visitors shall have their own hut while they are with the tribe. However, the injured warriors are to go to the healing hut until they are ready to depart." Blair's face closed down at this part of the recital, which gave Jim an uneasy feeling. But all he did was nod and gesture for the kid to follow along after him as he followed after Incacha. When an old woman stepped forward to tug gently on Williams' uninjured arm, Jim nodded at him and said, "Go with her. According to the shaman, there, you'll be bunking with Sarris in what passes for their infirmary. Me and Sandburg will have other quarters."

Williams nodded and saluted with his good hand. "Yes sir, Captain," he said, then turned and walked off, following the old woman, the warriors bearing the stretcher with Sarris on it following after them. Sarris gave a weak salute as well as he passed by.

Jim didn't bother to ask what the display of formal conduct was for. He knew that his men were showing the villagers that Jim Ellison was their leader and that they were his warriors. He looked down at Blair and said, "Come on, Sandburg."

He wasn't surprised when Blair nodded and saluted as well, then waited for him to lead the way. Being an anthropologist, the kid was bound to know the importance of establishing a hierarchy of leadership.

They caught up with Incacha at a hut that would serve as a dwelling for the two of them. Grass mats had been laid out on the floor of the newly built hovel and it was relatively clean. Incacha gestured to it and began speaking. When he was done, he stood there expectantly, waiting for Blair to translate, which the younger man did.

"Incacha says that there is much we need to discuss with each other, but for now, he can see that the strangers-from-a-distant-land are exhausted and that we should rest. Darkness will come soon enough and he will meet with us then to discuss how to remove the invaders from their territory," Sandburg translated effortlessly.

"Tell him that we thank him deeply as we are very much in need of rest and that I look forward to the discussion later this evening," Jim replied with a solemn nod to Incacha.

Blair spoke to Incacha and the Shaman smiled at them, surprising them with the sweetness of it as his brown eyes sparkled. Then the Chopec Indian made a gesture to the others who had gathered around and departed, the others following along, tossing glances back over their shoulders at these "strangers-from-a-distant-land."

"Come on, Sandburg, he's right; I am exhausted," Ellison stated and led the way into the hut.

The two men set down their survival packs against one wall and took out the thermal blankets that had been packed inside and began making up a sleeping spot for each of them. Jim glanced over at the unusually silent young man who was alarmingly pale. He didn't like this silence one bit; usually, he couldn't get the kid to shut up when there was something interesting - or what Sandburg thought was interesting - to talk about. It was - had been - a joke amongst the Ranger Unit about what a chatterbox the younger man could be about anything and nothing at all, yet became un-talkative and careful about what he said when discussing their mission. Making a decision, wanting to hear the kid chattering on as he had earlier about Sentinels, Jim said, "So, this Incacha guy is a shaman. Aren't shamans supposed to be some kind of village witch doctor?"

A tiny snort of laughter puffed from the younger man and then Blair looked over at him with his mischievous grin. "Sort of. Want me to tell you about them as a bed-time story?"

"Sure, Chief. I got the feeling you know a lot about shamans and what they do, and I could use some entertainment to drift off to," Ellison replied with a smirk as he shucked off his boots and wiggled down into his bedroll.

Blair took off his own boots, but he sat up on his bedroll instead, sitting cross-legged as he did so. Jim was abruptly struck by the thought that this young man, with his thoughtful posture and the far-away look in his eyes as he melted into this teacher persona, could probably be a Shaman himself. Then he shook off the thought and listened as Sandburg began speaking.

"Yeah, I saw a few shamans in my travels with Naomi as a kid. I'm used to and can appreciate what they do. A shaman is a religious specialist, originally found in hunting-gathering cultures, which are loosely structured, technologically simple, and homogeneous. The word shaman is derived from a word in the Tungusic language of Siberia, one of the areas in which the classical form of shamanism is found," he said, smiling slightly.

"So how the hell do Peruvian Indians know to call themselves 'shamans'?" Jim asked.

"Because shamanism has been around a long time, stretching back into the BC era. Obviously, Siberian travelers got around, spread the word, and the same method spread the word down here. It was adapted for popular usage and there you have it," was the reply. "Now, the shaman, usually a man, is essentially a medium, a mouthpiece of the spirits who became his familiars at his initiation, during which he frequently undergoes prolonged fasts, seclusion, and other ordeals leading to dreams and visions. Training by experienced shamans follows. The main religious tasks of a shaman are healing and divination. Both are achieved either by spirit possession or by the departure of the shaman's soul to heaven or to the underworld. Shamans also divine the whereabouts of game, the position of the enemy, and the best way of safeguarding and increasing the food supply. Shamans may occupy an elevated social and economic position, especially if they are successful healers."

"So in other words, they're like those - whaddyacallem's - Sentinels, right? Only they do it with mystical mumbo-jumbo and not any sort of genetically enhanced senses nonsense."

Blair closed one eye, tilted his head, and peered suspiciously at his Captain with the open eye. Then he grinned and kept whatever it was he found funny to himself as he shrugged his shoulders, straightened up again, and continued speaking. "Pretty much, yes. Attempts to explain the shamans and their cures have been numerous. Some scholars have drawn parallels between shamanistic healing and psychoanalytic cures and have concluded that in both instances effectual and therapeutic symbols are created, leading to psychological release and physiological curing, such as faith healing. Several anthropologists have in fact rejected the theory that shamans are basically neurotics or psychotics and have suggested that shamans possess certain cognitive abilities that are noticeably exceptional to those of the rest of the community. Other scholars simply explain shamanism as the precursor of a more organized religious system or as a technique for achieving ecstasy."

"I can think of better ways to achieve ecstasy, kid," Jim grunted, grinning slightly as he slipped toward sleep. He opened his eyes briefly and smiled up at the younger man. "This is fascinating, Chief, listening to you talk this way. You're gonna make one hell of a teacher when we get back to the States."

Sandburg blushed, then chuckled and shrugged. "It's what I'm good at. Thanks, Jim." He paused for a moment, then said, "Shamans are also known as medicine men. Their main function is to cure disease, though, while shamans have a wider-spread responsibility. Medicine men, however, attempt their responsibility by divination, something they share with shamans."

"You mean like crystal-ball stuff?" the captain asked on a yawn.

"Sort of. The 'crystal-ball stuff' is crystallomancy, by the way. The Chopec have simpler methods, such as oneiromancy, which is dream interpretation; haruspication, the inspection of animal entrails; and ornithomancy, the study of the activities of birds. Back in Ancient Rome, augurs, also known as priests, would have auguries - quit laughing, it's not what it sounds like, you pervert - which was a big ceremony where they'd interpret auspices or omens. Divination has been around almost as long as shamanism, actually. It's the practice of attempting to acquire hidden knowledge and insight into events - past, present, and future - through the direct or indirect contact of human intelligence with the supernatural. The practice was closely allied with religion among pagan, Hebrew, and early Christian peoples."

"Hebrew? So, have you ever experienced visions?"

"Yes, sir, but I was drunk at the time on a powerful Mexican Indian beverage," Blair replied, and grinned when the Captain laughed. "The Hebrew method was Urim and Thummim. In Hebrew, it's pronounced Urm wthummm, meaning 'unknown'. According to the Old Testament, two objects were used in divination. Maybe some precious stones and presumably different from one another in appearance, they were placed 'in the breastpiece of judgment' worn by the high priest of Israel. From other biblical evidence, it seems possible that one symbolized 'yes' and the other 'no'. In response to a question phrased so precisely as to be answerable in the affirmative or the negative, one or the other answer would somehow be indicated, possibly by the emergence of the appropriate object from a pouch in which both were shaken. The emergence of both might have meant that the divine decision was being withheld. The 1st-century AD Jewish historian Flavius Josephus stated that divination by Urim and Thummim ended during the 2nd century BC."

Jim snorted softly, still amazed by this amazing fountain of information that sat beside him. He knew he himself was a highly intelligent man - he hadn't gotten to the position of Ranger Captain by sleeping his way to the top or by buying his way in - but it was clear that Blair Sandburg, Army Private and almost-Anthropologist, left him in the dust. "Where do you store all that stuff, Chief? That's all fascinating, though." He yawned and snuggled deeper into his blanket, ready to let himself fall asleep finally. "I wonder if we can get Incacha to whip up a vision and tell us if we're going to accomplish our mission."

"He already has."

Blair gaped and trembled, absolutely floored by the fact that not one second earlier, Jim Ellison had been almost asleep. Before his statement had even finished, however, he found the Ranger Captain kneeling in front of him, so close their noses touched, and a set of deadly cold pale blue eyes were staring hard into his own blue orbs.

"He what?"

The question was a frigid hiss of sound and it made Blair swallow hard and hope to God that he chose the correct words for his reply. Pulling away slightly, he licked his lips and said softly, "He ... Incacha ... told me he already has. Earlier, when we were talking on the hike into the village. He said he foresaw us coming, saw ... everything."

"What does that mean?" The tone had changed to a growl, but it was still quite cold.

Blair let his eyes drop to the grass mat floor. "He persists in calling you 'Sentinel' because he saw a vision that told him what you are. He claims he knows you had a lonely, isolated childhood, that you became acquainted with your gifts then. He said that now that you are here, you will become acquainted with them again. I argued this, because it would take a traumatic incident and isolation to cause that. He said that in another vision, he saw you standing by the wreck, and you looked calm on the outside, but in your eyes he could see fear, grief, and loneliness. He also said that I walked up next to you, put my hand on your shoulder, and when you turned to me, to let me help you shoulder this burden, those negative emotions disappeared." Swallowing again, his voice dropping lower, Sandburg finished, "Incacha also said that he saw us standing by the graves. Only there weren't five; there were seven." He lifted his head then to look at his Captain. "Incacha claims that Sarris and Williams are going to die; that they're already on their journey toward death."

The younger man trembled as he saw the blue gaze turn hard and lethal as Jim stared at him, his jaw clenching and the muscles there twitching violently. "S-Sir? Captain?" Blair said quietly, his gaze pleading for leniency as he looked at the older man.

"What kind of hocus-pocus shit is that?" Jim snarled suddenly. "He can't possibly know what my childhood was like; he can't possibly know that Sarris and Williams are going to die, leaving me stuck here with just you! This is a bunch of bullshit!"

Blair felt something inside him go cold and shrivel up just the tiniest bit at that remark, but he ignored it and said, "Sir, I can't say I fully understand what's going on. I tried to argue with him that his interpretation was probably off, because that's what his message is: an interpretation. He can't say for sure what he saw, either; the only thing he's sure of is that sooner or later, it's only you and me alone in the jungle. He says you're the Sentinel, and I'm your Guide. It makes sense that you would have one if you are a sentinel, because Burton stated that usually the sentinel had a partner along, someone to watch his back due to the zone-out factor. That's when the sentinel concentrates too hard and too long on one sense and gets lost in it." Seeing the ire building in his Captain's gaze, he continued quickly. "It makes sense to a point to have a guide; but seeing as how inexperienced I am in being anyone's back-up, I would automatically assume it would be either Sarris or Williams, not me."

"It won't be Sarris," Jim stated abruptly and moved back to sit on his bedroll, his knees drawn up as he hunched over them, staring out the door blindly.

"What? Captain...."

"No. Remember what I said about Sarris having internal injuries? He needs an expert surgeon in the next twenty-four hours if he's to survive, and since there is no chance of that happening, he's going to die. And he knows it." Jim almost bit the words off as they came out of his mouth, wanting to throw up at the bitter taste they left behind.

"Oh. Oh, damn. Oh God," Blair muttered, his voice trembling, and he began to rock back and forth quietly on his bedroll.

Swiftly, Jim knelt before him again, this time gripping Blair very tightly by his biceps and lifting him up slightly from his sitting position. He shook the younger man as he put his face close to Sandburg's. "Listen, you neo-hippie witch doctor punk! Don't you dare go to pieces on me now! I'm going to need you alert and coherent when I sit down to this powwow with the Chopec and I'll be damned if I'm going to wait any longer than I have to so you can get your delicate self together, you hear me?!"

Closing his eyes, Blair nodded and said, "Sir, yes sir. I understand completely, sir." A moment later, he was released and he fell back onto his bedroll. He lay there, listening as Ellison re-situated himself beneath his blanket again, simply staring up at the ceiling as he tried to process what had happened. The older man had never before been that rough or demeaning to him and it was a bit of a shock.

"Get some sleep, Sandburg. You're going to need it," came the gruff order and Blair was proud of himself at how he stifled his flinch.

Jim sighed when he heard the monotonous "Sir, yes sir," come back to him. He knew he'd probably gone too far with that "witch doctor punk" crack, but by God, he did not want to hear what he had heard. He knew he was going to lose his friend and part-time lover, and that hurt bad enough, but he was determined he wouldn't lose any more of his unit. To be told that Williams would die as well ... shit. No way. Not on his watch; no fucking way.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to go to sleep.

Hours later, as the sun began sinking below the surrounding mountains, Ellison and Sandburg sat around one of the village campfires, eating strips of cooked meat of some slaughtered animal and small bowls of some weird grainy mush. Neither of them had said much to the other in the last 45 minutes that they had been awake. In fact, it had consisted of Ellison asking Blair if he was all right and if he was ready to translate between him and the Chopec. Blair had replied yes to both counts and that was that. Jim had gone off to check on Sarris and Williams after Sandburg had asked which one was the healing hut and the younger man had used the opportunity to wander off far enough to choose a tree for privacy. After emptying everything he needed to, he came back in time to find Ellison striding back to where the captain had left him, the irritation on his face at not being able to immediately locate the younger man fading when Jim saw him.

Now, as they finished their meal and handed the bowls to the young women who passed by to collect them, Incacha approached them. He smiled at the women with an avuncular grin, then watched as Jim and Blair got to their feet. He stared long and hard at the angry captain before him who looked deceptively calm, then glanced at Blair. "You told him," he said in the only spoken language he knew.

Sandburg nodded. "Yes," he replied in Quechua. "He wanted to know about shamans, so I told him what I knew. The talk turned toward divination and I used the opportunity to inform him of what you had told me. He ... did not take it well."

"That is clear, young one. Follow me; we will discuss this further within the Warrior's Circle." With that, Incacha turned and began to walk off toward another end of the village.

Blair hurriedly translated and was not surprised when Jim simply nodded once and then strode off after the Shaman, leaving the younger man to do his best to keep up with the powerful, long-legged strides.

Soon they were standing within a large, natural circle of boulders. Chopec warriors were seated or stood next to the rocks. In the middle, sitting cross-legged, were older men who, for all their gray hair and wrinkles, still had keen intelligence in their dark brown eyes. They were clearly the tribal elders. Incacha took a seat to the right of these men, gesturing for Blair and Jim to sit down facing the elders.

The old men looked the two visitors over, none of them missing the angry energy snapping in Jim's eyes. Though the captain wore his stoic, almost emotionless expression, these men had lived long enough to see what was hidden. Finally, one of them spoke. "Welcome to our village, strangers, and to our Warrior's Circle."

Blair translated for Jim, who glanced at him. "Does that mean anything significant?" he asked.

Nodding, Sandburg said, "It means they welcome us as allies who will fight beside them, with them; not against them."

Jim accepted this and nodded to the elders. "Thank you, and yes, we will do our best to get rid of the invaders."

Blair translated this and they fell into a back-and-forth conversation of the elders asking how they had arrived, what exactly their mission was, and how they planned to go about it. Jim replied, through Blair, about being shot down in an ambush that should not have been possible, that their mission was to remove this terrorist threat, and it was to be done mainly at night and with a great degree of sneaking about and silence. However, if the terrorists came after them in the daytime, then that was fine, too; they'd still be dealt with just as swiftly and expediently. The elders and warriors nodded, accepting this. The relayed through Sandburg that they would help the strangers as best as they could, for they wanted these invaders gone as well.

Incacha sat forward then. He stared hard at Jim as he said in Quechua, "You know of the fate of your warriors, Sentinel?"

Blair swallowed and translated. Jim turned ice blue eyes on the shaman. "Tell him that I know I will lose the one named Sarris, but I refuse to lose another of my men and that none of his hokey visions will keep me from making that a reality. And that means no 'Sentinel'."

Sighing, the younger man translated for Jim and waited for Incacha's reply.

"The young one has told you of my vision. What I saw will come to pass," the shaman said.

"Not if I can help it," Jim growled. "The future is not written in stone."

"No, it is not, Sentinel. But there are constants that will always be; I know not how it will come about, but I have seen you and the young one left behind to carry out your mission. The others will be gathered up to the spirit world."

"I know..." Jim started, then stopped. Blair waited patiently, then continued when the Captain did. "I know that Sarris is going to die due to internal injuries that no one nearby has the power to heal. Sarris himself knows this. But Williams will heal and regain his strength; he will be able to help carry out this mission, along with Blair and myself and your warriors."

"And healing from his injuries will somehow prevent him from falling to an enemy?" Incacha inquired calmly, and Jim sucked in a sharp breath.

"No ... they won't prevent that. But I can..." Jim began, but faltered. What could he say? That he would somehow protect Williams, keep him safe? Sure, that would go over like a lead balloon with the other Ranger. If Doug didn't hurt himself laughing, then he would surely try to kick Ellison's ass to knock some sense into him.

Incacha nodded, knowing what Jim's silence meant. "I see you understand, Sentinel. You cannot protect your warrior. He does not need your protection, nor would he want it. It is why he is a warrior; his fate is his own to accept or change as he will, not by yours."

Jim looked hard at the shaman. "Warrior? Not warriors?"

A bland expression was directed back at him. "A Sentinel will always protect his Guide. It is instinct and will never go away."

"But I'm not a Sentinel!" Ellison exploded.

"Perhaps not now," the Shaman graciously agreed, "but you will be." Nodding almost to himself, he repeated, "You will be."

Blair looked at the Chopec medicine man for a long moment, then at his Captain. Jim stared back at him, then shook his head. "There's nothing more to say about this. Tell him that I would like to send a scouting party to the terrorists' last known location early tomorrow morning."

Sandburg nodded and relayed this. The elders agreed and the warriors who would accompany them tomorrow were selected. Then Jim stood, ready to leave. The others got to their feet as well and Jim nodded to them, then left the circle. Blair said goodnight for both of them, then turned to follow his captain when Incacha called him. "Young one!"

When he turned back, the shaman gazed at him solemnly. "You are the Guide, young one. You will know what you must do when the time comes." With that, he turned and walked away.

Blair grit his teeth and sighed at this cryptic remark. He took off into the village, asking a woman he passed where the tall stranger had gone to and when he was told that Jim had gone to the healing hut, he thanked her and followed after the older man. He slowed his approach as he heard three familiar voices coming through the open doorway.

"...bunch of malarkey," Williams was saying. "I know for a fact that peyote and cocaine leaves are rife around here; those shamans do weird things with plants. For all we know, it's a bad leaf-induced acid trip. But he was right about one thing: you try to wrap me up in bubble wrap on this mission and I am gonna pound you into the ground like a tent peg. You will never, ever be able to walk straight again, Ellison, you hear that?"

"Don't you think you're being a little hard on him?" Sarris asked quietly, his voice amused but very weak.

"Hey, one crippled manhood for another, man," came the quick retort, and the three Rangers laughed. Blair smiled to himself as he stood pressed against the wall, listening.

"So, the Chopec are going to help us get rid of the terrorists. That's great, really. We can use the extra manpower," Sarris stated. A moment later, he added quietly, "I just wish I could be there to see it."

"Robert..." Jim said then, and outside, Blair bit his lip. He still thought it was fairly cruel of fate that Sarris had ample time to know he was going to die with nothing around to stop it. It's so damned unfair! he mentally groaned.

"Jim, don't get morose on me, buddy," Sarris replied. He reached out and gripped his friend and captain's forearm as tightly as he could with a small grin. "It's a risk we all take in this line of work. I'm hoping, though, you'll look after Jacqueline and Veronica for me. Especially my little girl; Veronica's going to be really torn up by this."

"Yeah, she always was Daddy's little girl," Jim said with a sad smile. "Of course I'll look out for the two of them; you know that."

"Yeah, I do. You'll look out for them same as you'll look out for Sandburg...."

Jim sighed and glanced away at that, and Williams raised an eyebrow. "What's up, Cap'n? Something wrong with the kid?"

Blair listened harder at that statement.

"No, not really. He's just ... damn it! He's just a kid. For Christ's sake, he's not even twenty yet! And I've gotta depend on him to help keep this operation running smoothly. Too young, unseasoned, saddled with the responsibility of being the translator on this little adventure, and now he's burdened with some crazy witch doctor's ideas about him being my 'Guide'. As if he didn't have enough to worry about! As if I didn't have enough to worry about...."

"Jim...." Sarris squeezed his friend's arm again to get his attention. "Don't take it out on the kid; he's here on orders, no choice, you know that."

"I'm not going to," Jim said, frowning at his friend. Sarris should know him better than to think he'd lay into an innocent kid who would do what he could to help.

Outside, Blair bit his lip again and blinked away the irritating moisture in his eyes. God, is that what I am to him? A necessary nuisance? Damn it, he never wanted me along on this operation anyway - not that I can blame him. But to be left with me when his best friend is dying? Shit, no wonder he's so pissed off he's growling.

"Well, it's not like you won't be entertained," Williams broke in then, grinning. "That kid can spin some tall tales or two to rival ol' witchy out there."

"You're telling me!" Jim laughed. "Christ, the kid can talk. Earlier this afternoon, he gave me a rundown on Shamanism, divination, and a small bit of Jewish history pertaining to it. Where the hell he stores it all, I dunno, but damn, he can talk!"

Sandburg didn't need to hear anymore. Straightening his shoulders, he turned and silently walked away. Just before he entered the jungle, he was stopped by one of the perimeter watchmen for the village. When he was asked where he was going, he briefly thought of saying he was going to hell, but it would be wasted on the Chopec guard. Instead, he shrugged, grinned, and said, "Soul searching. I won't be too far out. If the tall stranger with the blue eyes needs me, point him in this direction." He gestured to the dark expanse of jungle before him and then walked forward, disappearing into the darkness, the guard silently watching him go.

Back at the healing hut, however, Jim hadn't a clue that his youngest charge had misinterpreted everything he'd heard - had no clue that Blair had been listening - and was regaling his friends with the story Blair had told him earlier that afternoon. By the time he was finished, he couldn't keep the proud grin off his face. "I can't wait to see him bamboozle his way into a teaching position when he gets back to the States!" he laughed. "He'll talk circles around them until they give him his degree out of sheer desperation. That kid is good."

The other two were laughing, Sarris albeit weakly. "No kidding," Williams agreed. "Remember before we left I was starting a cold, but managed to nip it in the bud? That was Sandburg's doing. I told him I was going to the doctor to get a prescription in the hopes of staving it off, but he nixed that. Apparently, the boy genius is into holistic methods of healing and he had these little pellets he kept stashed in his locker. They were some kind of weird Indian root concoction and he talked a bunch of bullshit about how it's supposed to clear out your sinuses like a shot of acid squirted into your nasal cavities. He also said that it worked better if you had the Indian drum rhythm to go with it to help promote the healing process, but since we were in the Army, I'd have to make do. I tried it; what you do is stick the pellet under your tongue and let it dissolve. It's the nastiest tasting shit you'd ever wanna avoid, but by the sweet Jesus, it worked! Next day, I swear I was breathing better than ever, like I'd been granted a new set of lungs or something."

The other two laughed. "Yeah, that sounds like Sandburg," Jim agreed, then sighed. "I don't know what I'm gonna do with him. I just hope I can keep him safe enough; the kid's just starting out in life, he doesn't need to die out here in some godforsaken jungle because some rotten bastard in a high position got it into his head to write a death sentence for us all." Then he glanced around, noting that evening was well and truly upon them. "Huh. Wonder where he is? I could have sworn he was right behind me when I came here. I thought he'd show up by now."

"He probably got distracted by one of those lovely ladies out there," Williams said, gesturing at the village that lay beyond the open doorway. He grinned knowingly as he added, "I remember being nineteen; just one big hormone, that's all I was."

"Not that you've changed any," Sarris shot back.

Jim laughed when Williams flipped the other man the bird, then shook his head. "Maybe, but I doubt it. Kid's a virgin; he said he's seen too many ceremonies and other things for him to take it lightly, so he's going to wait for that 'special someone'."

"You're shitting me!" Williams barked, sitting up a little straighter in shock.

"I shit you not. He told me the night before we left when I took him out to dinner. I was teasing him about it when a waitress came onto me pretty heavily and he offered to find another way to get back to base so I could get in some last minute hanky-panky. I swear, he turned so red he could've lit up the main town street lights!"

Sarris caught Jim's gaze and traded a knowing look with the Captain. Being the chivalrous soul regarding innocents that Jim was, Sarris knew the other man had probably labeled the kid "hands off" no matter how badly he wanted the young man. He sighed; it was a bad idea all around and he hoped Jim changed his mind sooner, rather than later. Or both he and the kid were going to be in for a world of hurt.

"Jim, you'd better go find him. He could probably use the company; this hasn't been anywhere near easy for him," Sarris said quietly.

The captain nodded and stood up. "You two going to be all right in here? Need anything?"

They both shook their heads. "Nah, we're fine, Cap'n. Go tuck the kid in for the night," Williams said, grinning. Then he added, "Tell him I said I'm glad he came along for the trip; he's done a real good job so far and I'm proud to have him as a teammate."

"Same goes for me," Sarris piped up. Then he chuckled softly and said, "And tell him thanks for letting me read his paper. I learned a lot from him; he's got a real way with words."

Jim nodded. He bent and clasped hands with Sarris, looking at his friend for a long time, saying with his eyes what he couldn't say out loud. Then he carefully released the other man and bid his Rangers goodnight as he left the healing hut and went in search of Sandburg.

Frowning at the empty hut where their packs and rifles lay undisturbed, he turned and walked back out into the village again. He looked around, but didn't see any sign of the younger man. He was getting ready to bellow Sandburg's name when he heard a low whistle coming from the far edge of the village perimeter. Head whipping around, he squinted and spotted a guard gesturing at him. He ducked into the hut and picked up his rifle, then jogged silently over to the Chopec. When he got there, he wondered how he was going to ask for the kid's whereabouts, but the Indian simply pointed off into the jungle; apparently, he knew who Jim was searching for.

His jaw clenched tightly, Jim nodded his thanks to the guard and stomped silently into the brush after the young private. When I get my hands on that kid....

Blair sat silently and cross-legged on the forest floor, his eyes closed and his back straight, his hands resting on his knees as he breathed deeply and evenly. He was centered and trying to maintain his calm, trying to process the events of the last two days. Trying to process the hurt he felt at his captain's description of him. He knew it was unreasoning, as the older man didn't have a reason to like or want him, but he had thought - mistakenly, he guessed - that Jim Ellison had come to accept him, if not actually like him. And as for wanting him, he knew that would never happen.

He was startled enough to give a half-scream when a hard fist clenched in the neck of his khaki T-shirt and yanked him roughly and quickly to his feet.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing wandering off out here on your own, in the dark, without even your rifle to back you up?!" Ellison's voice snarled, and he relaxed fractionally. He immediately tensed again when he was turned and he found the captain close enough to him that they were almost nose-to-nose again and the younger man could easily see the fury written on Jim's face.

"I - I ... sir, I'm sorry, I didn't think-" he began, only to find himself grabbed and lifted off his feet by both biceps and shaken easily like a rag-doll.

"You're sorry? You didn't think?" Ellison growled, his teeth bared in a snarl. "That last part is abundantly clear, Sandburg! It's fucking obvious that you didn't think! What the holy fuck possessed you to come out here without telling me?!"

"I needed to process!" Blair shouted, forgetting for a brief moment how he was supposed to conduct himself with a commanding officer. "I had to find a way to come to terms with what's happened and what's gonna happen, so just back off!"

Jim set the younger man down and loosened his grip slightly. He peered intently at the young, flushed face, noting the glaring anger and repressed fear and bewildered hurt that flickered in the bright blue eyes. "What do you mean, Chief?" he asked quietly.

"I mean that I'm not like you and the others. I'm not some big, buff, experienced Ranger who can calmly accept a helicopter crash and the loss of people I've gotten to know closely. I can't immediately accept it as a way of life; I have to have time to think about it and then accept it and then get on with my life. I know I'm a nuisance and a hindrance, but dammit, I'm here. I'll do what you tell me to, Captain, but please, cut me a little slack, will you?"

"Chief ... Blair ... where is this coming from?" the captain demanded, shaking his head in frustration.

"From an observation, Captain. I'm not like you guys; I'm different. I'm trying not to be, I'm trying to be the best I can to help you, but-"

"Sandburg, shut up a minute." When the Private had gone quiet, Ellison continued. "Thanks. Now, listen to me, okay? I know you're not a Ranger, not conditioned like we are. And that's fine. There isn't anything wrong with that. Of course, it means I'm going to have to be extra careful of where you are and how protected you are, but that's okay. As long as it means you coming through alive, then it's worth it. As for nuisance and hindrance ... that's not true. In fact, you're the complete opposite of those qualities. You are not an irritation and you're most definitely not a hindrance; in fact, you are a very big help to this mission and to me." And you have no idea how badly I want to strip you naked and fuck you senseless, he added silently. But don't worry, baby; I'll keep it that way. You deserve better than some grumpy, war-torn Ranger anyway.

Blair felt his anger drain from him at his captain's words. "You ... really?" he said quietly, looking up at the older man.

It was all Jim could do to keep from taking the younger man's mouth in a savage kiss right then and there. God, those eyes, that utterly carnal mouth ... shit, the kid should know better than to leave himself so wide open like this! Getting control of himself, he nodded shakily and released the other man. "Yeah, kid, I mean it. I really do. I'm sorry if I gave the impression otherwise." He was silent a moment, then said, "Are you okay, now? Or do you still need time to - what'd you call it? Process?"

"Yeah, process. Yes, sir, I could use a little more time. You can head on back; I'm fine out here," Blair said with a smile. That smile faded when the captain frowned belligerently and shook his head.

"No. If you stay out here, then I'll stay out here until you're ready to go back. I'll wander off a ways to give you some privacy if you need it, but I'm not leaving you out here on your own, Private, and that's the end of it."

Sandburg sighed. "All right. Thank you, sir." At the warning look the older man gave him, he grinned mischievously. "I mean, Jim."

Ellison grinned at the kid. "Good, Chief, very good. I'll be down the trail a little ways. Holler when you're ready."

Nodding, the younger man sank back down to the ground in a cross-legged position again, closing his eyes. Jim eyed him for a moment, then did as he had said he would and wandered off down the trail for about thirty yards. He wasn't babying the kid, he knew that. Sandburg was his only translator out here, and if a few moments of "processing" was what the kid required to keep him levelheaded and focused, then that's what he'd get. He knew for a fact that he would need some time to himself to do some processing of his own later, after ... Sarris....

Gritting his teeth together, he shook his head and leaned back against a tree, staring up at the evening sky. It was faintly illuminated, since the cloud cover wasn't nearly as thick tonight as it had been last evening, and the stars were shining through, however mutely. He sighed as he stared upwards, and thought, God, why is this happening? None of my men deserved this! I don't deserve this! Why are you taking Robert from me? I'm going to need someone close to me that I can depend on; someone I can feel not so alone with! If you take him, who's going to be there for me?

"Jim?"

He came to attention quickly, his rifle moving up to the firing position even before Blair's presence fully registered. When it did, he let out a muffled curse and lowered the gun. Sighing, he smiled at the startled young man. "Yeah, Chief?"

Walking up to his Captain, he peered up at the older man with concern on his features. "I'm ready to go back. Are you okay, Jim?" He reached out hesitantly and placed his hand lightly on Jim's forearm.

"I'm fine, Sandburg," Ellison replied, nodding. "If you're ready, let's go." Turning, he began leading the way, knowing the younger man was right behind him and ready to help him if he required it somehow. Remembering the question he'd silently asked and Blair's subsequent arrival, he paused momentarily before resuming the walk back to the village.

Nah. It's a coincidence, and I'm glad the kid is ready and willing to help, but I still don't buy into this hokey vision business of him being my "Guide" of some sort. Things'll work out the way they're supposed to, and that's that.

He didn't realize how correct he was in that assessment.

He didn't know what had awakened him; he only knew that he was needed ... no, that he needed to be somewhere. Jim lay still for a moment, wondering what this definite tug on his soul was. He glanced across the hut in the pre-dawn quiet and saw that Blair was sound asleep, curled up under his blanket and snoring softly, his young face smooth and worry-free, his mouth slightly open. Jim smiled and then turned his thoughts to his other men. Williams should be fine, but what if....

That's when he knew who it was who needed him and where he needed to be. Without a doubt, Jim knew Sarris' time was up. Getting to his feet silently, he crept out of the hut then ran across the village grounds to the healing hut. Slipping inside quietly so as not to wake Williams, he settled down next to the dying man who was panting softly in his sleep. Taking one of Sarris' hands in his own, Jim held tightly to it.

"I'm here, Robert," he whispered quietly. "You're not alone, buddy. I won't leave you. And I promise I'll take good care of your wife and daughter when we get home." He closed his eyes and murmured, nearly sub-vocally, "You'll never know how much our time together meant to me, Robert. Thanks for being a really, really great friend and a good lover. I'm going to miss you, buddy."

He was startled when Sarris' hand suddenly squeezed his tightly. He opened his eyes, searching the other man's face frantically, hoping his friend had heard him. A small smile played about Sarris' mouth for a brief moment. Then, quietly, he sighed and relaxed, and his soul slipped away.

Jim sat frozen for a moment, then locked his jaw against the grieving cry that wanted loose from his throat. Bending, he lightly touched his forehead to the now-still chest and shuddered once. He started badly when he felt someone drop to their knees beside him. Lifting his head, he saw Blair kneeling there, staring at him and then Sarris and then back to him with sad blue eyes. Jim's head whipped around the other direction when he felt a trembling hand touch his shoulder and his gaze met Williams'. The other Ranger's mouth was tight, his face pinched, and his eyes expressive in his regret and sorrow, but he said nothing as he squeezed his captain's shoulder. He felt Blair place his hand on the other shoulder and then the three of them simply sat there in silence and in memory for the dearly departed.

The next morning, Blair stretched cautiously, then rolled over and sat up, scrubbing at his beard-stubbled face groggily. He glanced over and saw that Williams was still asleep in his spot in the hut Jim and Blair had been given; he had joined the other two men last night when they had retreated from the healing hut. No disrespect had been intended to the memory of the friend they had lost, but Blair couldn't blame Williams for feeling it would have been really creepy to sleep the rest of the night beside the dead body of said friend. At any rate, the injured Ranger was sound asleep, which was a good thing. He needed the rest in order to heal up. Jim, however, was absent.

Quietly, Blair got up and left the hut, stretching as high and hard as he could once he stood out in the warm daylight air. When that was finished, he went in search of Incacha. He found the shaman sitting beneath a tree and chanting a ritual prayer as he carved something on a piece of wood.

"Incacha," Blair called quietly, not wanting to interrupt but needing to ask.

The Chopec broke off his chanting and looked up, then smiled his sweet smile at the American. "Good morning, young one. You seek your Sentinel?"

"I ... good morning. Yes, I would like to know where Jim is."

"He has taken the body of your dead friend for burial with your other warriors. He will be back soon to collect you for the scouting party. Be prepared to go with them, young one."

"He's burying Sarris alone? Dammit, he should have awakened me! This is so hard for him, he shouldn't be alone for this-"

Incacha didn't ask for a translation of the English word. A curse was apparent in any language, it seemed. "No, young one, he should be alone. There is history between him and his friend's spirit that you are not a part of; he will come to you later when he is ready. This time is for him."

Blair sighed and nodded. "You are right, Incacha. I apologize. I don't want him to think he's alone, that's all."

"In his heart of hearts, he knows he is not alone, that you are there to guide him. It is the stubborn part of his soul that is resisting the acceptance of what he is and what you are to him."

"He's not the only one having difficulty in believing this," Sandburg muttered, then shook his head with a smile. "No offense, Shaman, it's simply a difficult subject to accept. I suppose I never really believed I would ever find a living Sentinel and faced with the knowledge that my tribal leader may perhaps be one ... it is overwhelming, to say the least." He snickered when Incacha grinned at him, then sniffed at himself and grimaced. "Do you have a fresh water supply nearby where I could bathe? I'm covered in fluids that came from our great bird, dirt, blood, and dried sweat. If I'm to go on this scouting party, I'd rather not give the invaders a clue that we're nearby from my scent alone!"

Incacha laughed at this and nodded. Pointing off toward the western direction, he said, "Walk in that direction, young one, and do not deviate. One foot in front of the other. You will find what you need there."

Thanking him, Blair grinned and went back to the hut to grab up a small bar of glycerin soap that was kept in the hygiene kit of each survival pack and took off in the direction Incacha had given. It wasn't too long, perhaps ten minutes, until he walked out into a clearing and found a small pool that was situated beneath a small, rocky overhang, from which poured a moderate-sized waterfall. He grinned widely and walked forward, shucking off his clothes on the water's edge. He had to get the blood and dirt and sweat out of them or they could end up causing a health problem. If he laid them out on the warm rocks, they'd dry in no time, he knew. He quickly soaked, scrubbed, and rinsed his T-shirt, fatigues pants, socks and underwear, and then spread them out on the rocks. Once that was done, he waded into the pool and around the edge to where the waterfall splattered down onto wide, slightly rounded rocks that he could easily stand on. He stepped under the waterfall, shivering as the chill fluid washed over him, then stepped out again. He soaped his hair, stepped back under, rinsed, then stepped out again and began washing his face, behind his ears, and his neck, then rinsed. Methodically, he washed each section of his body, unaware that he had company.

Jim arrived back in the Chopec village, nodding to the guard who smiled at him in welcome. He wandered toward the hut, hoping Blair would be there, but wasn't surprised when he saw Williams sleeping there, alone, a plate of food waiting next to the sleeping man. He smiled, pleased at this thoughtfulness for the injured Ranger. Turning, he left the hut and walked slowly through the village, scanning for signs of Blair. He noticed Incacha nearby, talking to one of the warriors and walked up to him, wondering how he was going to get the point across. He remembered that Blair had blue eyes and so would use his own as part of the message.

When Incacha looked up at him inquiringly, he smiled reassuringly and then pointed to his own blue eyes, then made a hand gesture about shoulder height on him, implying someone with blue eyes much shorter than he was. Then he raised his eyebrows for a pleading expression as he asked, in English, where Blair Sandburg was.

Incacha smiled that sweet smile and squatted down in the dirt, motioning Jim to squat with him. When the captain had, Incacha then drew a straight line in the dirt and used his fingers to make walking motions along that line, never deviating from the path.

Okay, walk in a straight line. I got that, Jim thought, nodding his understanding.

Then Incacha pointed off toward the western end of the village and Jim squinted, recognizing signs of passage through the knee-high grass there. Nodding, he smiled his thanks at Incacha, then turned and went after the young man. He walked for a ways, maybe ten minutes, then froze just at the edge of the clearing as he watched the spectacle before him.

Blair was standing beneath the waterfall, soaping and rinsing each part of his body, the water sluicing down his young, trim body. Jim found himself surprised at the amount of body hair the kid sported; a thick pelt of it covering his chest and narrowing down into a trail over his belly that widened out at his groin. The bush nestled a very nice looking cock, well-proportioned to the rest of his body and, of course, circumcised.

The captain noted the kid's clothes drying on a rock nearby and nodded to himself. Good idea; I'll have to do that myself when we get back from the scouting party. Poor kid probably couldn't stand the itchiness anymore, though. He gasped silently when the young man left the waterfall, emerging into full sunshine, and stretched, rising up high on the balls of his feet, a grin shaping his lush mouth. Grinning, Jim watched as Blair shook the excess water off like a dog, enjoying the way the younger man's muscles rippled with the action. Then, as he watched Blair walk towards his clothing, he felt his blood turn to ice when he noticed movement near the kid.

Blair gasped and whirled when he heard movement suddenly from the edge of the clearing. His eyes widened when he saw Jim stalking toward him, a frozen expression on his face, as he lifted the bowie knife he held in his hand. The younger man flinched as he watched the arm come sweeping forward and he closed his eyes, his one confused thought being that he wondered what he had done to deserve a knife through his heart from his own captain.

He heard the knife whistle through the air, then heard and felt it thud into the ground near his feet. Trembling, he opened his eyes, and this time stifled a shriek as he saw the body of an unfamiliar viper wriggling and twitching in its death throes, the knife blade sunk deep into its head.

Closing his eyes, he swayed dizzily as he realized just how close he'd come to possibly dying from a poisonous snakebite.

Strong hands wrapped around his biceps and he felt himself yanked against a strong, solid body. "Blair! Chief, are you okay? It didn't have time to bite?"

The younger man opened his eyes and stared dazedly up at the other man. Jim frowned and shook him slightly. "Sandburg! Answer me, dammit! Did it bite you?"

Blair shook his head. "N-No. No, it didn't. I'm fine, I'll be fine, I swear," he babbled.

Jim sighed and closed his eyes in relief, letting go of Sandburg's upper arms and unconsciously sliding his own arms around the younger man in a loose hug. "Thank God I got here in time to notice it," he said quietly.

"I can't believe I was so stupid," the younger man muttered. "I was just so happy to be clean and the sun felt so good that I totally forgot that any creepy-crawlies might be lurking. Then again, it didn't hassle me earlier when I laid my clothes out to dry...."

"You probably woke it up then and it was ready when you came back," Jim replied, then looked down and realized he had an armful of clean, warm, naked Blair. And that said Blair was staring up at him with wide, blue eyes, totally relaxed in his embrace....

He let the younger man go smoothly and stepped back. "Go on and get dressed, Chief," he ordered, hoping his voice sounded steady enough. "We're due back at the village for the scouting party."

Blair nodded, regretting the loss of that firm touch and hurriedly dressed, his clothing only slightly damp. He had guessed right that the hot Southern Hemisphere sun and the already baked rocks would do a good job of quick drying. As he finished lacing up his boots, he turned his head to peer at the older man. "How'd you find me, anyway, Jim?"

"I came back and checked the hut, but you weren't there. I walked around, trying to spot you, couldn't, and ended up asking Incacha. It wasn't too hard. I pointed at my eyes to let him know I was looking for someone with the same color eyes and then let him know this person was also much shorter than me." He grinned at the mock-irritated glare the kid threw his way and continued. "He then drew a straight line in the dirt, walked his fingers along it, and pointed me after you. And here I am."

Blair laughed as he fell into step beside his Captain, the two of them making their way back toward the Chopec village. "Not bad for a couple of primitive men. I'm still going to have to start drilling you on learning Quechua. This cavemen stick-drawing routine is not going to be nearly effective enough."

"Who you callin' a caveman, Junior?" Ellison snorted and aimed a swat at the younger man's head.

Laughing, they made their way back to the village and soon were on their way with a scouting party.

It was late that evening by the time the scouting party made it back to the village. Jim's mind was racing with plans and details and information of the terrorists base camp and what he, Blair, and the Chopec would do to stop them all. Through Blair, he outlined a few basic ideas, grinning when the Chopec warriors eagerly jumped in with ideas of their own. Many of which involved darts tipped with enough curare to drop five elephants, a few sharp knives, crossbows, and according to one young warrior who had seen the terrorist use of grenades, blowing them to smithereens. Jim laughed, agreeing with that one. The idea of walking into that camp and blowing the place up around their ears sounded rather satisfying.

However, when they arrived, Incacha and the old woman who had led Williams and the others to the healing hut upon their first arrival met them.

Speaking quickly in rapid Quechua, Incacha said, "Come with me, young one. Bring your Sentinel. Your other friend has taken ill." With that, he turned and led the way toward the healing hut.

Worried, Blair looked up at Jim and translated, then followed after the Captain who immediately took off after the Shaman in long-legged strides that ate up the ground.

Bursting into the healing hut, where the Chopec had once again put Williams when he'd been found moaning in pain and sweating hard, Jim stared down at the injured and ill man. Blair stood next to him and whispered, "Oh, no...."

Dropping next to the man, the two of them looked him over, noting the long, thick leaves that had been tied in various places around some of the deeper cuts on Williams' arms and legs. Peeling one back gently, Jim grimaced and Blair forced the bile in his throat back down at the sight of the ugly, festering wound.

Sighing, Ellison replaced the poultice. "Shit. He's developed a fever from infection from these cuts. I should've thought of that; why didn't I consider it?!" he snapped, pounding his fist into the grass mat beneath him.

"Jim, calm down, sir," Blair said, reaching out a comforting hand. "You had lots and lots of things on your mind; it's understandable. Now, hold on and let me see what's been done for him." Turning to where Incacha stood behind them, he switched to Quechua and asked, "What is in the poultices helping him?"

"Cinchona powder and flowering root paste. It will draw out the evil sickness that is infecting him until we can cleanse it away ourselves," Incacha replied.

Blair nodded and turned back to Jim. "He says they've got cinchona root ground into powder mixed with flowering root paste, which I suspect is heliotrope, a natural and much-used medicinal plant in this part of Peru. It's going to draw the pus and infection to the surface so it can be lanced out of him. It's only a matter of time."

Jim grimaced again and nodded. "Tell him we have the information we need to begin staging an assault against the invaders and that we must meet with the tribal elders and the rest of the warriors. Can you ask him to have someone stay with Doug while we talk?"

Quickly, Sandburg translated and Incacha nodded, replying affirmatively. He asked the old woman who had followed behind them if she would sit with the ill man and when she said she would, the Shaman then stated he would gather the elders and the warriors to meet in the Warrior's Circle, and left the hut.

Jim nodded distractedly. He turned to Blair and said, "I'm going to get the canteens and tear Sarris' blanket into strips. If you'll explain to the lady that I'd be appreciative if she'd use the water and the rags to wipe him down every once in a while...?"

"Yes, sir," Blair said and the older man offered him a quick smile before disappearing from the hut. Sandburg explained what Jim wanted and she readily agreed, giving him a toothless smile as she settled herself comfortably beside the sick Ranger. Very quickly, Jim was back with the canteens and the blanket strips, showing her how to open the canteens to get the water. She was fascinated by the design of the water bottles, but quickly shooed the two military men out of the hut to go to their meeting, assuring them she would take good care of their friend.

Not having any other choice, Jim and Blair left to go to the Warrior's Circle.

The first skirmish went surprisingly well. Jim, Blair, and the Chopec staged their attack on a raiding group that had left the base camp and gone to where another tribe was located. The Chopec party did not arrive in time to stop the massacre, but they did get vengeance for the dead and dying. Within thirty minutes, the raiding party was cut down, Blair staying back behind sheltering trees at his Captain's order, cringing at the sound of the screams but not mourning the murderers who met their fate at the Chopec's hands. Jim attempted to interrogate one of the dying raiders, calling on Blair to translate the Spanish spoken by the man, but the terrorist refused to talk and soon died from his wounds, much to the US Army Captain's disgust.

Quickly, the Chopec performed burial rituals for the other massacred tribe. Jim was almost surprised when Blair quietly informed him that it was a rival tribe that the Chopec usually warred against over territory, but the Ranger wasn't all that surprised after all. He understood the honor system; the rival tribe had done nothing to deserve this massacre and the Chopec were giving them the honor they did deserve, even if it was in death, personal rivalries aside.

He also wasn't surprised when the tribe's materials and supplies were gathered up to be taken back to the Chopec village. He understood the law of survival and there was no reason to let good supplies go to waste. The Chopec were not impractical idiots, and he approved of that.

They went back to the village to report their success. There was mixed enthusiasm among the Chopec; a brief period of honorific mourning for the other tribe and fierce joy at the death of the invader's raiding party.

Jim ducked into the healing hut to check on Williams and found that the injured man's condition had neither improved, nor worsened. He sighed and then smiled his gratitude at the old woman. He wanted to ask if there was anything else he might be able to do for his warrior, or bring to her for her own use, but looking around, he couldn't find Blair nearby. He got up and left the hut and quickly scanned the area, noting Blair talking to one of the perimeter guards, clearly leaving instructions with the Indian. Then he took off into the brush, disappearing quickly in the darkening twilight.

Ellison sighed in annoyance. Goddamn that kid! He knows I don't want him to go off alone! He sighed and then followed after, glad he was still wearing his rifle slung across his shoulder and back. He nodded to the guard, smiling slightly, then followed the minute trail Blair had left behind. Be fair, though, Ellison. From the way he bolted, it was apparent he couldn't wait another second. And I don't blame him a bit. If I were the kind of person to go for this meditational mumbo-jumbo crap, I'd probably be doing the same thing.

When Blair stopped and settled down to meditate, Jim situated himself against a tree and kept watch over the younger man and the surrounding territory. He didn't understand why his need to protect Sandburg was so fierce, but he wasn't going to analyze it. The kid needed protecting and Jim would be his protector, end of song.

Continued in Part Three.

Link to text version of part three: http://www.squidge.org/archive/cgi-bin/convert.cgi?filename=7/covertoperations_c