“Good morning, Tracy,” Yuri said as she climbed out of her air car. “We have been here only a few minutes but I planned on waiting for you. I think this will end up being more OSI business that the City Militia’s.”
“You could be right. Let’s get this show on the road.”
The building had large doors all down one side for freighters, and a small door on the front for staff entrance. This door was locked when Sgt. Yagoslav pounded on it. After several tries with no response, he motioned to one of the Militia staff he had brought with him. This woman pulled a hand sized devise from her belt and placed it over the door. Half a minute later there was a beep and the door swung inward. Loudly announcing he was City Militia and that he had a search warrant, he walked down a short hallway which opened into the huge and dark building. With Tracy hard on his heels, he searched for a lighting panel.
“Most of these warehouse buildings are pretty much identical: a lighting panel should be on the wall here to our left, and on the right we will find one or two small offices and a break room for employees.” Yuri explained to Tracey. But it took him several minutes to find the lighting panel, even with a torch in his hand.
“Of course this would be the damn exception,” he muttered to Tracy, following several words under his breath that she didn’t catch but could guess what they might be. Once Yuri found the panel, he turned all the lights on in the whole building.
“It will be much easier to search this place brightly lit; I really don’t like shadows nearby, particularly when I am on a murder case,” he said to Tracy.
Investigator Yugoslav first lead his team over to the inside building wall where he expected to find the door through which Professor Ja’haal had been drug, according to the blood traces. There were stacks and stacks of sealed materials waiting for transshipment, large pieces of machinery setting on their own lift pallets, and innumerable sealed boxes. The search for the correct door, indeed the only door, on the back side was easy to find when the searches got into the correct aisle. Reaching it, Yuri quickly observed an iron bar welded across the doorway in such a manner that no one was going through that door without a cutting torch.
“Damn it Tracy, they must have found out that we had traced Dr. Ja’haal blood trail to this door to slow us up,” Yuri said.
“Either that or the tracker lead us the wrong way.”
“From what I have heard, trackers may not be able to pick up a trace if it is too old, but it they do find a trace, then they are never wrong on the track.”
Turning to one of the forensic men, Yuri asked, “Can you tell how long that bar has been welded across the door?”
“Not a chance,” the man said. “Unless it is still hot, that bar could have been there a day or a year.”
“Well, then, is there any trace of blood this side of the door?” Yuri asked. The same young man pulled a bulky electronic device out of his pack and started sweeping the area in front of the door. After five or six minutes he lifted the analyzer and turned to Sgt. Yagoslav.
“Not a trace of blood, but that is not surprising since a molecular vacuum has been used on this area and probably any other areas that might have had blood traces,” said the technician as he stored the analyzer.
“Isn’t that just sweet. You are right, they definitely knew we were coming. Ok, spread out and see if you can find where a half dozen people could have lived for a couple of days.”
“What a disappointment this is,” Tracy said.
“I am beginning to think we have a big conspiracy going on here,” Yuri mused.
“What? You mean the Traders Association?”
“Not necessarily just the Traders Association, Tracy, bigger than that. From what you have told me regarding caravan attacks and other problems plaguing the OSI, I think something big is brewing. We need to talk to Captain Santos as soon as possible. I will keep this crew searching while we go back to OSI Headquarters.”
“I’m sorry, Yuri but we can’t do that.”
“What…why not?”
Captain Santos left for the main Pawassa headquarters day before yesterday in the afternoon and she hasn’t commed into Central since she left.”
*****
Amanda did not remember passing out, but when she started feeling the vibration from horse hooves, she opened her eyes and tried to sit up. She felt intense pain in her left arm with her movement, bringing her wide awake. She also had the worse headache of her life: it seemed that the whole top of her head was coming off. At that moment, a half-dozen horsemen drew to a stop around her. Actually, it was horsemen and horsewomen, but she hurt too much to bother to differentiate. Amanda knew she was in no shape to try and stand so she continued to sit, looking at what appeared to jungle villagers. She knew that some of them kept and used horses for hunting on the plains, mostly those villages who lived close enough to where the plains started that they could keep their horses in the borderland; horses being apt to die if kept in a jungle habitat all of the time.
Two of the older men, not that any of them were very old, and one of the young women dismounted, tossing their reins to a mounted companion, and walked up to Amanda. Silently they looked her over as well or better than Amanda looked over them. The woman and one of the men turned to each other and began moving their fingers and hands. Obviously some kind of sign language, Amanda thought. She had heard of such a thing but didn’t know anyone who used it. After several minutes the two approached and took her arms in an obvious attempt to pull her up to stand. As soon as the man grasped Amanda’s left arm and started to put pressure upon it, Amanda screamed. It was so unexpected that he dropped her arm and stepped back. She didn’t quite pass out this time with the pain, but sheets of agony washed over her. Amanda was sure her left arm was dislocated and it would be extremely painful until it was put back in joint. Being more careful, this time the man and woman helped Amanda to her feet. While the man held her upright the young woman carefully removed Amanda’s service belt and checked her for any other items she might have on her person. Amanda had completely forgotten her service stunner, not that she could use it in the shape she was in. Through the haze of pain Amanda had not yet heard a word from the tribesmen, their interaction was all through sign language or low voices so far. After a few minutes examining her, two other of the tribesmen came and stood beside her, holding her up, while the original man and woman met with other tribesmen several yards away. She could now hear some conversation but they were too far away for her to catch the words. Finally the same woman that had held her up before came and strapped a wide cloth belt around he left arm and body, holding the arm tight against Amanda’s side. Initially Amanda felt like screaming again with the pain, but after the belt was tied off, she had to admit that there was less pain this way.
Amanda was now boosted up onto one of the spare horses and then tied on. One of the women had given her several pills along with a knife threat to insure Amanda swallowed them. As the group started off, Amanda’s horse lead by another tribesman, her overall pain seemed to diminish. Her headache was almost gone and many of the numerous small cuts and bruises faded in memory. Floating in a white daze, Amanda realized that she had been given some potent pain pills by her captors. Tied to her mount, Amanda fought the blurring effects of the medicine and tried to watch where her captors were taking her. By aircar she and Sgt. Onn were only ten minutes or so from the start of the equatorial jungle, but this crew was riding towards the jungle at an angle and at a walk or slow trot. Thinking of Sue Onn brought tears to Amanda’s eyes for several minutes.
It wasn’t until an hour or two before sunset that they entered the fringes of the jungle and stopped at a camouflaged building along with corrals and a large number of horses. Here they changed horses and picked up to kids who would bring all of the horses back after the tribesmen had finished with them. A winding trail led into the jungle for some ten kilometers before ending at the strangest village Amanda had ever seen. There were half a dozen small huts or building
s scattered about a very small clearing, but it wasn’t until she looked up that she really saw the village. Tens of dozens of structures were built among the various trees with a complete network of swaying and interconnected walkways among the buildings. Amanda saw walkways leading out of sight and to only have seen structures, there was no way to tell the extent and size of the village. The medicine was starting to wear off but Amanda didn’t say anything and bore the increasing pain while she observed every detail she could of this strange village. For a while she wondered how one climbed up to the village, sure that she wouldn’t be doing any climbing for a while. Finally she was half pulled/drug off her horse, which elicited a small cry of pain even though Amanda tried to suppress it. She was then carried to a unique lift that could carry a large number of people and/or supplies up to an even larger staging area at the village’s first level. Amanda, along with the rest of the party were quickly raised to the first layer of the main village. Then she was carried via the walkways to a small hut or room and laid on a very comfortable bed. There was no attempt to restrain her; it was obvious that she could not have escaped even if she had been down on the ground, but there was a young man sitting on what looked like a chair just outside the door, or rather door opening as there was no door to this structure but a hanging, comprised of a brightly colored and woven cloth. As Amanda lay there, trying not to cry out from the pain, a pretty colored bird, or something like a bird, flew in a window opening and landed on a small shelf attached to a wall. It started singing so beautifully that Amanda actually ignored some of the pain as she was listening.
In was full dark when two men came into Amanda’s hut carrying bright lanterns that lighted the whole room. One of the men appeared about middle aged and had the unmistaken air of a medicine man. The other man had a full-face mask carved in silver and sported a large number of dramatic scars on his bare chest. He too had the air of a medicine man although Amanda could not figure out why the mask. Many of the various tribal medicine men received early training in Atlantic City or Southport, while others were trained by previously trained medicine men. The father of her twins had been a very young medicine man with two years of training in Atlanta Hospital. The first man approached to the side of Amanda’s bed.
“I am a trained Medicine Man and as such I need to examine and
treat your injuries. My brother Medicine Man is here as a control,” he said.
Amanda didn’t respond, although she did note that the Medicine Man spoke the language common on Edge World but with a distinct accent, one that she had never heard.
“I will need for you to remove all of your clothes so I can do a complete examine. Are you able to do that without help?”
“I know about medicine men”, was all Amanda said in response. It was not that she didn’t think she needed to be examined; she had pains, large and small, in many areas of her body, but she was a prisoner and as such she was leery of what they might do to her.
“If you do not cooperate I will have to call in several others to remove your clothes whether you want to or not.” He said in a calm. even voice.
Finally Amanda spoke again. “I will disrobe although I might need some help because of my shoulder, but I do so under protest.”
“Thank you,” was all he said. He first untied the strap holding Amanda’s left arm tight to her body. Amanda then with help from the Medicine Man managed to get her uniform jumpsuit off down to her waist.
After one look at Amanda’s shoulder, he said, “we need to get this shoulder back into the socket.”
Amanda’s left shoulder and arm was a mass of black and blue bruises.
The Medicine Man instructed her to stay still until he straightened her arm with a hand under a wrist and elbow,
“Now this is going to hurt a bit,” he said as he started to rotate Amanda’s arm.
Amanda bit on her right hand to kill from screaming. The pain was unbearable it went on and on. Until with a snap the arm went back into the socket and the pain ceased almost immediately. A wave of relief swept over Amanda. She had always considered she had the ability to withstand pain, but the arm that was dislocated was almost more the she had been able to bear. Now she was aware of a number of less serious pain and her headache had come back in spades.
“You need to take off the rest of your clothes so I can examine the rest of your injuries.”
“Can you give me something for my headache right now,” Amanda pleaded.
“When I finish your exam I will take care of your headache.”
“Give it to her now,” the masked Medicine Man instructed.”
With no argument the Medicine Man gave Amanda two pills along with a glass of water which came from a pitcher on a wall shelf.
With left arm useable again, Amanda removed the rest of her uniform jumpsuit as well as her bra and panties. The Medicine Man helped Amanda to a sitting position and began examining every bruise, bump, and open sore. There were a great number of bruises from the aircar blast knocking her to the ground. There were a few cuts, one he had to suture, but other than her shoulder injury she was in half way decent shape. During the exam she noticed her headache had subsided but other minor injuries became more noticeable. The Medicine Man only spoke to give her instructions, while the one with the mask stood silently against a wall after he ordered the use of something to help her headache. Even those five words tickled Amanda’s memory, but when would she have talked to a medicine man, she thought? Not in the last ten years for sure.
The medicine Man finished taping and patching wounds and instructed her not to use her left arm for any lifting during the next week. A young woman who had come into the hut while Amanda was being treated, handed her a light silky robe, and a sling for her arm. She dropped a pair of sandals alongside the bed. The Medicine Man then handed a small gourd half filled with a milky liquid and told her to drink it. Amanda didn’t think it was poison after they had gone to the trouble of fixing her injuries, but rather it was some sort of potion to ease her pains or make her sleep, or both. She hesitated but a moment and then drank it. What choice did she have? She was a prisoner and they could do to her as they wished. He torn jumpsuit was taken away, but her field boots they left besides the bed with the sandals, after checking the boots out for hidden weapons.
After the Medicine left, two young girls came in bringing a tray and a musical instrument. One placed the tray on Amanda’s lap and then left while the second sat on a chair in the corner that Amanda hadn’t previously noted, and begin playing a soft melody while singing along in a voice too low to hear the words. Amanda was astonished by this action. Softening me up, Amanda thought, but for what? None of this makes any sense. At least they are treating me well. They could have left me on the prairie where I might have died. I feel they want to keep me alive, but for what?
The medication Amanda drank, along with the soft music, gradually drew her into sleep. Her last thoughts were on the silver-masked Medicine Man? She thought she had heard him before but must be mistaken. She had noticed one of his many scars running across his throat. Maybe that was the cause of his voice sounding so raspy. She didn’t know….
*****
The first two days were utter joy to Ronald and James. Not even the presents of two bodies locked up in the sleeping section could bother them. They had seen and been around bodies before. Here they had most up-to-date computer games, exotic foods beyond belief, comfortable anti-grav. beds, and all on paid work time. Or at least they thought they would get paid. The two officers were stranded through no fault of their own. But by the end of the second day, the two conscientious officers were beginning to worry.
“There must be something we can do to reach headquarters,” James complained, Whom-ever did this to the satellite systems and to us must be planning something awful.”
“Not only that,” Ronald replied, “but it must be happening soon. Unless whatever they are planning completely disorganizes OSI, they must know someone will come within the next day
or two.” The two men again wandered back into the instrument section, looking at all of the machines and electronics without a glimmer of a hope of understanding the mess. They couldn’t even test whether the static being reported was still evident as their only real comm unit had gone up when their aircar exploded. They had, as all field officers had, a wrist unit by that used a completely different system from the satellite comm systems and only had a range of fifty kilometers or so. There had been several attempts to push through the Council funding for long-range wrist units, but there had always been something that needed funds more.
“We could wreck the system so no one would be able to use it,” suggested James. “I bet we would get a lot of people out here quickly.”
“Don’t be an asshole, James,” his brother berated him. “We would get someone out here and then lose our jobs while other officers would have no way to comm each other, not counting the outcry from the public. They would probably make us pay for the damage on top of it.”
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