Chapter 40: Getting Up The Mountain

As we drove back I planned to park the jeep in the usual spot and walk to the house, but I got a call on the radio asking me to get to the house where they was a loud discussion in the Chiefs bedroom.

When I addressed the Tribe and the Colony about recent events and future plans I planned to have both my grandfathers there to support me. The issue that had come up was how to get the Chief up the mountain.

Normally he would take the ski-lift and walk the rest of the way, as a signal of his health. But that was not an option today. He hated the helicopter. He could ride in a truck, but sometimes the mountain didn’t co-operate, with rockslides and washouts. Moreover, since the advent of Earth-view satellites, I had convinced both grandfathers to eradicate any signs of roads or trails beyond the goat-cart level or anything else that indicated vehicle use between the two population centers. Not having a prepared road put trucks, even large military ones, at a disadvantage for movement between the Colony and the Tribe.

The best option was the Chief’s modified APC (formerly an US Army M-113) I gave him a decade ago. A bonus was that he could take the medical equipment along with Marta and a few others inside the vehicle. He could even return after dark. But he had never actually driven any distance in the beast, it was noisy and ugly. Still, today it was the best choice.

(It is another story, but 12 years ago the Patron put me in charge of a 3-way drug deal that went bad. No surprise, the other two thought they could steal the white powder from the 16-year old kid who looked like he was playing by the rules. But going in I figured it was really a game of seeing who cheated best, and the kid won by cheating while packing the biggest guns: recoilless rifles. Part of the haul was some VietNam era M-113 Armored Personnel Carriers or APCs - essentially a armored box with tank-type tracks. I had them rebuilt and modified and gave one to each grandfather. The US has pretty much phased them out, but most countries in South America still use them. So do some US police departments.)

By the time I got there Marta was laying down the law about transport, she said both grandfathers would ride in their APCs up the mountain.

“Listen father,” Marta scolded, as only she can, “either you take the APC with your medical equipment for this trip, up and back, or I will stay another week sitting on your chest, rather than the other thing, keeping you in this bed with no fun. Which means that there will be another week when several young ladies, who have come of age in the last few months, will have to wait longer until they get to meet their Chief in that special way they have been waiting for. Patron, you will provide the example by taking your APC, or I will deprive myself of your company as well.”

Like I said, she was laying down the law.

The Chief’s eyes sought me out. “Your mother is a smart woman, that is why I told you many times not to argue with her.”

“Yes, grandfather ... and I must say I benefitted much from that advice.”

“It seems I must follow my own advice.” He turned to Marta. “Very well woman, I am persuaded and will do as you require. Could I have these two,” he pointed to my future brides, Mer and Pur, “for company on the trip?”

“I had intended to insist on it, they know both your nasty ways and the medical equipment better than anybody,” she said. “Also, they are engaged to MY SON so they are immune to your charms and orders and foolishness, as you well know.”

The Patron also agreed to ride in his APC as well. The two APCs would show off our military capability to the Tribe, which never hurt in times of trouble.

Thus the question was decided the way I would have chosen without my having any real input. But when Marta is around it often works that way.