Tarnished Heroes
A Daniel Jackson
Stargate SG-1
Adult FanFiction Series
By
Moon Mistress
a/k/a Lisa Beth Darling

Chapter Fifteen

And we always say
“Well it’s be good to go away…someday”
Hang
Matchbox Twenty

Tuesday

Off World

Daniel was never sure of just who to thank for the ATVs but they sure beat the hell out of walking and if he could find that person he’d send them a big basket of flowers and thank you note. The fuel cells were a godsend, being self-contained they never needed to be refueled they just kept on going. The only things that got in your way were a busted tire or forgetting to check the lubricant in the engine, other than that they took a licking and just kept on ticking. Over hills, mountains, through small creeks and riverbeds, not much stood in the way of the mighty little four-wheeled machines.

No more aching back from carrying everything around in a pack and then hiking your ass off. Nope, those days were long gone. Just strap your shit down to the ATV and off you went.

Besides all of that, they were fun as hell.

So far they’d been putting around at somewhere near 35mph for the last day. The MALP showed no signs of life other than animal but the closer they got to the walled city the more they could see that the MALP may have been wrong. Though they didn’t see any people the signs of them were everywhere from fresh food in wooden bowls to still smoldering fires in the villages which began to dot the landscape, each one growing bigger and bigger as they went.

Maybe they saw the MALPs or heard the engines from the ATVs and were afraid. Maybe they took to hiding. Jack made the decision to leave the vehicles behind for a while and walk a ways. If the locals couldn’t hear them coming maybe they’d run into one or two along the way. The nearest village on the ever increasing and well-traveled path was some seven miles from the last. This village was closer to a town having wide dirt streets and several stone houses. There were buildings, which were clearly businesses, black smith, leather smith, butcher shop and others. Still no people.

Looking around at the stone and the architecture Daniel began to think that they had not ended up where they hoped. The columns and structures were clearly Ancient Greek and the items of pottery and earthenware he was finding were marked with old Greek gods and symbols. Wherever this was, it wasn’t where the Ancients had gone. However, someone had taken up residence here.

Wandering around the village, they came to the square. It was big and green and filled with several blooming gardens in which were several statues. Zeus stood off to the right and Hera at his side. Past them were Apollo and Aphrodite. Hiding in the lavender stood Athena and to her left Artemis. Off in a patch of crimson spiked astibule were Hades and Ares.

“Any ideas?” Jack asked as they walked around the well-tended but deserted garden. Hidden among the tall grasses and flowers were more stone statues, the Hydra slithered through a patch of oregano and a Cyclops stood guard in a patch of monkshood.

“Several but no theories.” Daniel told him. “Where the hell is everybody?”

“In the city?” Sam suggested. “Maybe it’s some type of holiday or something.”

That was a brilliant idea. “Yeah, I was thinking that.” Daniel muttered as he continued to look around. “Let’s go back for the ATV’s the city’s still another twenty miles or more.”

“Whatever.” Jack said and pointed back toward the way they came.

A few hours later, they were whizzing through the town once more on their way again toward the walled city they MALP showed them just a few days ago.

Late Tuesday Afternoon

Planet Earth

Greenbrier, Colorado

Nick was the first one through the door after school, he didn’t have practice today and Colleen did after that she was off on the prom gown hunt again. Mom was over at her gallery and wouldn’t be home until sometime after seven or so. He grabbed the mail out of the box as he opened the front door. Looking through the small stack, he noted an assortment of junk mail, the electric bill—he put that on top of the stack so he didn’t lose it—at the bottom was a large brown envelope addressed to Calla Jackson with the return sender of Tom Dyer.

Geez, he musta sent this before croaked. It was heavy in the palm of his hand. Photos Do Not Bend said the words on the outside. Aw, shit. Nick tossed the junk mail into the small wastebasket near the phone, put the electric bill on the kitchen table and sat down with the envelope.

The murder of Tom Dyer and the photographs of his mother were the chatter of this little hick town. Nick was glad his father wasn’t around to hear it. The kids at school were all abuzz about it yesterday and today. Nick didn’t know how word got out that it was his mom in the pictures but it had and he’d been fielding questions left and right—along with glances and stares—and so had Colleen.

The juiciest tid-bit of it all was the fact that good old Tom had shipped his photographs off to that contest before he died. Yep, good old Tom. That wasn’t just any photography contest as it turned out. No, not at all. While Nick knew that it was some fancy-schmancy-high-toned-deal he didn’t know the photographs entered were going to be displayed and voted upon on the Internet. He doubted his mother knew that either.

There was a Real World Gallery with a Real World Show that people were more than welcome to attend and cast a ballot for their favorite photographs in each category. For those poor souls who couldn’t get there, they could do the same via the web. Come Friday morning everyone would now exactly what his mother looked like. Nick could only image the massive amount of hits that site was going to get from Greenbrier, Colorado.

Looked like Good Old Tom had sent some of those photographs right to her. Dad wasn’t here. Mom was trying to hide the humiliation she was feeling and be the Brave Little Soldier but sooner or later she was gonna crack, probably some time around 7:30am Friday morning.

A harsh knock on the front door brought Nick out of his gaze. He dropped the envelope on the kitchen table and went to see who was there. Two State Troopers were standing on the front porch.

“Can I help you, officer?” Nicholas asked in a very polite but surprised voice.

“We’re looking for Professor Calla Jackson, is she home?” It was the same State Trooper who’d been there the night before. “We’ve already been to the college.”

“She’s at her gallery until 6:30 or 7:00 tonight.” Nicholas explained. “Is this about Tom Dyer?”

“It could be.” The Trooper said with an uneasy smile. “I don’t suppose you know where she was last night around 8 o’clock?”

“Here.” Nick stammered. “Up stairs in her attic painting.” He didn’t like the look in the Troopers eyes. “Do you mind telling me what this is about, officer?”

“You can vouch for that?” He took his note pad from his pocket.

“Yes, sir and so can my sister.”

“You’re Nicholas?” Trooper Dickerson asked and made notes.

“I am.”

“Is your sister here?”

“No, she’s out shopping.” Nick’s heart began to pound if he had to ask the copy nicely one more time he thought he’d end up punching the guy in the face.

“Where can we find your mother’s gallery?”

“What’s this about?” Nick asked in a sterner voice and rose to his full height; he didn’t hesitate to flex his pecs as he did so. “I’m not going to answer any more questions until you tell me why you want to talk to my mother.”

“Antwone Booker was murdered last night,” Dickerson returned and took a step back. “Coroner puts the TOD around eight or nine last night.”

“My mother was here all night.” Nick told them boldly.

“And your father?”

“Left yesterday morning for a trip.” His lips were tight and so was his stance.

“Oh, yeah, he was going overseas.”

“Yes he left early yesterday morning.” Nick reiterated. “My parents didn’t have anything to do with this, officer, least of all my mom. Did you see the size of Antwone Booker?” Nick remarked snottily. He’d met Antwone once or twice while he was still student in his mother’s class. “You can’t think she could over power him.”

“I didn’t say he was over…”

“How the hell else do you kill someone?” His tone grew even snottier. “Dyer’s neck was snapped, he was at least five inches taller and seventy-five pounds heavier than my mother.”

“Could you just tell me where we can find this gallery, son?” Dickerson asked. The boy had several good points but they needed to follow up on every lead.

“It’s over in Silver Springs on Barnaby Lane.”

“Thanks for your help, son.” Dickerson finished making notes and walked off the front porch toward his cruiser.

It took Nick a few seconds to make his next move. Did he call his mother and tell her Booker had been murdered and that the cops were on their way or did he just let them show up at her door? OK, so, call her. What do I say?

Nicholas stumbled back into the kitchen and ran his hand over the unopened envelope. He closed his dark eyes.

Spit it out, spit it out, just spit it……….The cops were here, Booker’s been murdered; they think you did it…I think that’s what they think. They’re on their way to the gallery.

Antwone’s dead? Calla sat down behind her small front desk. How? When?

Well, that’s all right, I didn’t do this Nicholas. I was home all night, you know that. Calla tried to keep her inner telepathic voice light soothing and calming but her stomach was doing flip-flops. No, she hadn’t done this she had nothing to do with it other than posing for those damn pictures.

We don’t even know these incidents are related. She tried to reassure him. I’ll tell you all about my visit from the police when I get home. Don’t worry. Calla disconnected the direct line in her head.

Twenty minutes later the front door of the gallery opened and two Colorado State Troopers walked inside. “Good evening, Professor Jackson,” Dickerson said, “do you remember me, ma’am?”

“Yes, Officer Dickerson.” Calla rose to greet them. “I’ll be honest my son called…”

“Figured he would, ma’am.” Dickerson said and withdrew his notepad from his pocket. “You’re aware that Antwone Booker was murdered last night?”

“Yes, that’s what Nicholas said.”

“Where were you last night?” The son had already contacted the mother so it was easy enough for the two of them to have their stories in line at this point but he asked anyway.

“I was here at the gallery until six and then I went home. I made dinner and painted for the rest of the evening. I stopped around eleven or so, took a shower and went to bed.” Calla explained thinking she’d gotten everything. “What happened to Antwone?”

“Same as Dyer, ma’am. Someone broke his neck.” Dickerson jotted down notes. “It would seem the two murders are connected and you would be a piece in this puzzle. Are you sure you don’t know of anyone who would want to harm either them or you, Professor Jackson?”

“I’ve really thought about it,” she said easily, “and no, I can’t think of anyone or any reason for this.”

“At this point, ma’am, I’ll be honest with you,” Dickerson said and sat down. “We haven’t found your prints or DNA at either scene other in Dyer’s classroom and they weren’t in the darkroom.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Calla said. “I had nothing to do with their deaths.”

“If you didn’t then you may be next, ma’am. We’d like you to cancel your trip to New York and let us put a tail on you.”

“What?” Calla stood up. “No, I’m sorry. That’s really out of the question. Whatever this is, it has nothing to do with me. My class is counting on going on this trip, the college has already paid for it, I can’t cancel and I don’t have any desire to be followed around.”

Well that seemed final. Still maybe just one more shot. “Those photographs Professor Dyer sent off to that competition are going to be on the Internet Friday morning. Whoever did this may not be so keen on that idea.”

No, maybe they wouldn’t be. “There’s nothing you can do to stop that?”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He said with a genuinely sad smile. “I take it you weren’t really aware of that part when you signed the release?” Calla shook her head. “We tried to subpoena them but, well, the Court said they have to give us copies of everything but that the photographs can still be entered into the competition and shown on the web since he finished all the requirements and intended to have this done.”

“I see.” Well that was a real shitter. Ever since he left, she wished Daniel were here. She’d gotten many queer and some lascivious looks over the last day and a half. People were asking her about Tom and how he died and what the photographs were of. In a few days, they’d all see for themselves. The one benefit was that they’d be off the Internet before Daniel got home, they were only available for a week that was unless you won then it was available for an entire month.

“How can we get in touch with your husband, professor?”

“Daniel?” She shook her head. “He left early this morning, obviously he didn’t do this.”

“I didn’t say he did, we’d just like to talk to him.” Dickerson sighed.

“He’s off on an archeological dig in the depths of Japan, I’m afraid. No phone, no lights, no motor car,”

“No a single luxury, huh ma’am?”

“That’s right. No cell phone reception either. He may be back briefly in two weeks or so.” She told them. “I’m sure you can talk to him then.” A thought hit her. “Antwone, are his wife and son all right?”

“They’re fine. He was killed coming out of work last night.” Dickerson explained. “Someone stuffed him in the dumpster, the body wasn’t found until noon when they went out to unload another round of trash and saw a leg sticking over the top.”

“That’s awful!” Calla shook her head again and sighed. “Poor Antwone and his family, what will they do?” She had some extra cash from the sale of her paintings and she’d see to it that they got some of it. Raising her eyes once more, she looked right at Dickerson, “Sure you don’t think I picked him up and put him in a dumpster?”

“Like I said, you’re not a suspect at this time, ma’am. We sure would like to put some protection around you while we’re working on this.”

“No, thank you.” She told them. “If we’re done here, it’s time to close the gallery.”

“Watch yourself, ma’am,” Dickerson warned. “If you have any trouble just hit 911.”

“I will. It’s on speed-dial on my cell phone, don’t worry officer Dickerson.” Calla assured him and began closing up shop for the night. “Thank you for your concern.”

“To Protect and Serve, ma’am, that’s what it says on the side of my cruiser.” He reminded her. “You have a safe night.”

“Good night.” She walked him to the door and watched him drive off.

Well it was very clear now, wasn’t it? Hell even a BLIND MAN could see it! Some one other than Daniel was upset about those photographs. It did not take the same blind man to know who that was. She’d inadvertently gotten two men killed and hoped that would be the end of her Father’s rage at this. With the advent of the Internet and that impending upload, she was beginning to fear he would turn that rage on the people who ran the contest and the site.

Calla locked the front door and turned out the lights; she climbed into the little red sports car and made her way home.

The front door opened and Nicholas was still sitting at the kitchen table with the envelope in his hand. “Sit down, Cole, we got problems.” He said.

“What’s wrong?” Colleen sat across from him and looked at the envelope. “Are those…”

“Yeah, I guess so. Cops were here, Booker’s dead.”

“Mom?”

“She’s all right, they went and talked to her, she’s on her way home now.” He bounced the envelope in his hand. “She ain’t seen this yet.”

“Oh.” Coley remarked. “Three of them are going to be available to the world soon….” Her voice trailed off. The envelope looked like it held a lot more than three photographs. It was fat in Nick’s hands.

“That don’t mean she’s gotta look at all of them.” He tossed the envelope down. “Where the fuck is dad when you need him?”

“You don’t think….”

“No!” Nicholas snarled. “This is what I think.” His theory, as he laid it out play by play for his sister was the same as his Mother’s. “Question is, is Umpa gonna stop now or is he gonna come after Mom or some one else?” He asked in a low voice.

“Who? Us?” She asked in a raised voice. “Dad?”

“Who knows? Could be anyone and everyone whose got anything to do with that.” He pointed roughly at the unopened envelope. “Anyone.” He said again. “That’s a lot of people.”

“What about the cops?” Colleen was more concerned with the immediate problems in front of them. If they thought she had something to do with this then they’d arrest her and put her in jail. True enough she could zap herself out any old time she felt like it but that might raise deeper suspicions about all of them. “They don’t suspect her.”

“I think they think she’s involved but they don’t know how.” Nick sat down again. “Anyway you know she’s not going to give up this trip to New York.”

“So you’re gonna go, right?” They went over this already.

“And you’re still gonna back me up, right? Even after…you know…the other night.”

“Yeah, she shouldn’t go alone. You should go with her. When she asks me about it I’ll tell her it’s a great idea and that I’ll have Terry and some of the other girls sleep over, she’ll like that.”

“How much longer do you think Mom’s gonna keep buyin’ your ‘Terry excuse’?” Nick asked. Headlights outside the kitchen window caught their attention. “These?”

“Put ‘em away somewhere.” The car door slammed. “Hurry up.”

Nick zapped the package upstairs to his room as the back door opened. “Hi, mom.”

“You’re both here. Well that’s unusual.” Calla remarked, unusual but not unexpected. The kids were good at circling the wagons when their father was away. “I spoke to the police everything’s all right; they don’t think I had anything to do with this.” She told them before they could ask and before she could do as much as put her purse down. “No more long faces. Everything’s….”

“Fine,” the twins chimed with fake smiles.

“Don’t you have homework?” Calla asked with her hand on her hip.

Nicholas and Colleen gave no dissent as they went up the stairs to their respective rooms. Calla no more than got dinner going when the phone began to ring. Oh, to hell with it, it’s not for me anyway. She didn’t answer the phone. Nicholas was in the shower and Colleen had her headphones on. Soon their message was heard coming from the hallway behind her and then Andrew Hartley was on the line. Calla stopped fussing with the carrots and listened to him. Same message different day. When he was done talking, she walked over to the little machine and deleted the message.

End of Chapter Fifteen of
Tarnished Heroes
An Adult Stargate FanFiction Novel
By
Moon Mistress
Continue to
Chapter Sixteen