“I will bring something to drink tonight just so you don’t think me a deadbeat.”
“I will see you then,” Tracy says as she leaves.
*****
Tamara and Kristina were hot and sweaty as they followed one and then another trail during the day. The day was overcast as it usually was over the jungle regions, but they hadn’t run into any rain so far. They both kind a hoped it would rain and maybe cool them of a bit. Finally Tamara stopped in her tracks.
“I think we are just going around in circles,” she said as she spit a mouthful of tiny bugs out of her mouth. “Even if we had the sun to guide on, I don’t know what direction we should be going.”
“What else can we do,” Kristina asked. We couldn’t even find the village we started from. I think George led us in circles on purpose so even if we did escape we couldn’t find our way back to safety. Besides, what choice do we have? It looks like there may be a clearing a little ways ahead.”
“All right, but I think we are going to end up spending the night in this jungle.”
The jungle was definitely thinning and the girls approached slowing their walk to almost a creep and pulling their stunners out of their waistbands. The trail appeared wider and well used on the other side of the small clearing, with a small rectangle area of turned up dirt at one side. The closer they came to it the more it resembled a grave.
“That’s a fresh grave or at least looks like one,” Tamara said.
“But no name or marker,” replied Kristina.
“Well, I am not going to dig into it to see if there is a body buried there, even if I had a tool to dig with.”
“You don’t think that can be Charlie, do you,” asked Kristina in a somewhat weak voice.”
“Don’t think so… but maybe. Funny they would bury someone out here in the jungle.”
“Maybe we aren’t that far from the village, “Tamara said, but she looked around a little fearfully.
Kristine’s fears were justified when half a dozen tribesmen stepped out of the surrounding jungle. At least three of them sported stunners, aimed at the girls.
“Don’t do anything Kristina. I don’t fancy getting stunned and I don’t think we can get enough of the before someone spears us.”
They dropped both of their stunners to the jungle floor and raised their hands. This time they were not only searched, but their hands were tied behind them.
“Well it looks like we are really in the soup now Tamara.”
Tamara gave Kristina a look that should have turned her into stone.
*****
As soon as it was known that Captain Santos had been found, Liam immediately headed to the Atlanta Hospital, all thoughts of solving the conspiracy taking second place. But when he got there the hospital staff made him wait several hours before they would let him see Amanda. Even the exalted position of Federal Agent didn’t pull any weight with the medical staff. After what seemed like half a day, but was only a couple of hours, they allowed him in cautioning Liam he could only stay for ten minutes and that he was not to excite their patient.
When Liam walk into Amanda’s room he was taken aback by how pale and washed out she seemed. Almost as pale as the pillow under her head. Her eyes were closed but opened when Liam approached her bed.
“Oh Liam,” she said in a week voice. “I thought I would never see you again. I thought I was going to die.”
“How do you feel?” He thought she looked terrible but didn’t say it. “What did they do to you?”
“It wasn’t them…I mean they didn’t do this, they were just going to kill me. I was sure they were going to kill me and… then this man…his face was covered…all bright…silver I think.”
“But did they hurt you? You look like you had a rough time and you said they were going to kill you?”
“I don’t remember but I think the one in the mask tried to save me…I just don’t know.”
One of the Doctors entered the room at this point and pointedly tried to Shepard Liam out of the room.
“Just a minute Doctor, I am a Federal Agent and it is critical that I ask this patient a few more questions.”
The Doctor appeared totally unimpressed with Liam’s authority. “I am sorry, but she needs sleep and rest at this point. She took some high-powered stimulants and if she doesn’t get some sleep she could die or be permanently brain damaged. In which case you won’t be able to ask her any questions at all.”
Liam had more than a smattering of education in this area, although he wasn’t a chemist, but he WAS a biologist, but decided that it was best to give Amanda a chance to recover.
“All right, Doctor, but when is the soonest I can come back and interview her? She has information crucial to the future of this planet.”
Liam’s interest was more than just professional but figured this was the best approach to use to get to come back to see Amanda as soon as possible.
“It is going to take at least three days before we no longer need to constant monitor and even longer before she can get out of that bed,” the Doctor said. “However, you should be able to come back and talk with her in about forty-eight hours.”
“I doubt this poor world can wait that long, but I will give her another day, no more.”
“If you come back that soon you are jeopardizing her health and possibly her life.”
Liam knew that the medical profession took the absolutely most conservative estimates in regard to treatment, but he knew there was no sense arguing with the Doctor.
Take good care of her, Doctor,” Liam said as he headed towards the entrance to the hospital.
*****
Caravan Master Marcus Shallen was at peace. Half way between Junction and New Naples his caravan had had fewer breakdowns and lost animals than on most any trip he could remember in the twenty-five years as Caravan Master, taking over the position from his father just as he hope his son Jan would take over from him when he retired, hopefully not for a number of years. The position was more or less elective: Wagon Masters could leave any caravan if they were un-happy with the Caravan Master and join up with another caravan if they would take them. Some Caravan Masters had a constant turn-over of wagons while others contained the same wagons year after year. Master Marcus hadn’t lost a wagon in years and in fact had a waiting list of wagons that wanted to join his caravan. But he preferred to keep his caravan at fifteen wagons: he felt the larger caravans took too much time mustering each morning and he preferred a quicker start with fewer wagons. Over the years his logic proved sound as he often beat competitors to a village in short supply of certain commodities and thus obtained higher prices.
But there were disadvantages as he was soon to see. It was near midday when Marcus saw half a dozen of what appeared to be jungle tribesmen sitting their horses on a small rise not for ahead. He was not overly concerned, even though he had heard of the caravans attacked by groups of tribesmen. He doubted that six or seven poised any danger. When his father was Caravan Master the caravans were often mock attacked by young tribesmen as a rite of passage. Usually they would exchange arrows with few or any injuries. In fact, a superficial wound boosted that youngsters boasting power. The caravan would often leave a small tribute of gimcrack and flashy jewelry, often brought along for that specific purpose, behind for the youngsters to recover as trophies. Marcus stopped the practice in the belief that it only encouraged the attacks, and his belief obviously paid off as the youngsters tended to avoid his caravan after a few years.
“Evidently these tribesmen didn’t get the word or maybe they are just a new tribe that has moved into the area closer to the plains. It did seem strange, though that as the caravan drew closer to them it was obvious that none of the riders were holding bow and arrows, their main weapon of offense. Suddenly riders appeared out of coulees on both sides of the caravan, and these riders definitely were shooting at the wagons. Marcus hit the signal for danger as well as setting off a flare, but as he turned into the wagon to grab his bow, an arrow struck
him in the back, knocking him off the wagon seat. As he tumbled to the dusty grass he pulled a small compact stunner from a side pocket and managed to stun one of the attackers almost to the wagon, even in pain knowing that would only capacitate in man for a short while, the main reason few caravans bothered to carry them. He tried for another but the stunner slipped out of his unresponsive hand. His last view was a caravan on fire. Then nothing.
*****
The nomads on the oblate continent were few and far between. They were similar to some of the nomad groups on Terra many centuries ago, but most came from secondary planets that grew too crowded for their tastes. The clans were invariably family groups that met in large concaves every two years to allow young women and young men the opportunity to meet the same from other families. The men moved to the woman’s family group and were often under the eye of a mother-in-law for years.
Elijah Kan was not the oldest of his group, but the Senior had quit making decisions some years back. The clans were nearly self-sufficient, herding a yak like beast with long hair, originally from a planet still in the ice age, which they used to weave clothing and for food. The plains were scattered with patches of edible plants planted years previous, which provided a balanced diet.
But now Elijah was in a bind. Several weeks earlier the two wagons that produced their clothing caught fire, destroying most of their looms. They had other methods of producing material, but not in the quantity that was required. They could, of course, just buy material from any of the villages, but that was so repugnant to Elijah that he would not seriously consider it. Building new looms, as well as major repairs on the wagons required wood, which was very scarce on the almost treeless plains. What wood that was available was in trees lining creeks and rivers were usually husband for firewood.
There was really no choice. Elijah would guide the wagons toward a well-known caravan route where they could buy suitable dried wood for their needs. It would undoubtable take buying from several caravans; no one caravan would carry enough suitable wood for sale. That meant a prolonged stay for the wagons, so Elijah headed for a river crossing where there was sufficient water and graze to last them during their wait for caravans. He knew of such a spot only a few miles away. Indeed, while mulling all of his options he had been trending that way. They were also low on water from putting out the wagon fires. Never again, Elijah promised himself, would he allow any two wagons to stop so close together that a fire in one could set off a fire in another. That would mean not so tight a circle when they camped at night, making them more open to the occasional sneak attacks from the jungle tribesmen youth that made attempts once in a while to steal from the camps. It wasn’t until late afternoon, close to the river, when one of the scouts reported a great deal of smoke on the skyline. They were desperately short of water and needed to reach the river by dark, so the wagons had to continue, but Elijah sent half of his armed young men to investigate, keeping half for defense in case this was simply a trick to make the wagons more defenseless. He really would prefer to circle the wagons, but he had no choice. Still, he kept his remaining fighters on high alert and didn’t start to relax until he spied his scout party returning on the horizon. The pale face of his scout leader made him tense up again at the prospect of bad news.
“A terrible disaster, Sir,” the leader said. “A whole caravan wiped out. That’s the wagons you see burning and creating all the smoke. Looked like fifteen wagons in the caravan and every one burnt or still burning.”
“No one alive,” Elijah asked in trepidation?
“Looks like there are a number of children, the oldest being about ten, that were huddled in a circle near the wagon remains. I was going to leave a few men to check them out, but we saw a large band of horsemen, probably jungle tribesmen, on the distant skyline, so was afraid to split our forces. They made no attempt to approach us even though they outnumbered us two to one.”
“Probably guessed who you were and didn’t care to challenge you,” Elijah responded. “But we have to check on those kids. As soon as the wagons reach the river we will ford up while you go back and check the kids out. Take a couple of our spare horses, though the gods know we don’t have many, and bring the kids back if you can. I am sure the older ones can ride and any little ones you can carry on your own horses. But don’t take any chances. I don’t know what this world is coming to, but I don’t like what is happening, for sure.”
Chapter 16
Federal Agent Liam Smithe was a much happier man when he left the hospital. True, Amanda didn’t look all that great, but she was alive and that was all that mattered. Even now he wasn’t admitting, even to himself, his feelings for her, but there was no questioning that the despair that had been his lot ever since she disappeared was now gone. Gone for now.
Back in OSI headquarters Liam called his senior staff together both to advise them of Captain Santos’ status and to plan how to tackle the conspiracy. Regretfully, he dare not tell the officers of the real problem of the LL drug, long life they called it; to keep it confined to the planet and to destroy it. The Federation leaders had long agreed that the human race was not prepared to extend life further than its current normal of a hundred and twenty years. Various studies predicted that if humans could live twice, three times or longer, the risk of accidental death before their time would virtually put a stop to space exploration and travel. Who would take a chance of dying at the young age of one hundred in a spacecraft accident or while colonizing a new planet when they might have several hundred years of life ahead of them? There was nothing the Federation feared more than the extension of human life, and Liam knew as a Federal Agent he had unlimited resources if he chose to use them. Stopping by the break room, Liam grabbed a cup of coffee, reflecting that no matter the planet, every cup of law enforcement coffee or santee tasted just the same, just awful. But he drank it anyway, as there was no choice, and besides he had come to almost like its terrible taste. The Lieutenants straggled in, the previous long day and night starting to show its toll on their faces. “I probably don’t look a whole lot better,” he thought to himself, “but I feel a lot happier. That lasted until one of the communication sergeants came running into the room.
“I am sorry to interrupt,” he said, but we just received a comm message relayed from one of the nomad groups. Apparently a trader’s caravan has been attacked and completely wiped out!”
The silence was deafening for a moment.
“Has this happened ever before,” Agent Smithe asked before the uproar started?”
All of the lieutenants tried to speak at once but then gave way to Lt. Baker due to his seniority.
“I have been on the force for over twenty years, Sir, and even before I never heard of a whole caravan wiped out. Occasional attacks, even minor injury, but no one has lost as much as a wagon, much less a whole caravan. Are you sure you got the comm right,” he asked the Sgt. still standing more or less at attention?
“It was relayed several times, Lieutenant, so there is certainly the possibility of error,” the Sgt. replied. “We are trying to get confirmation now but going through so many relays it may take a little while.”
Without looking at Agent Smithe, Lt. Baker immediately ordered a re-enforced patrol unit to the location of the attack or as close as current information permitted. Then, with a shock of awareness, he turned to Agent Smithe.
“I am sorry, Sir, I forgot that you had taken charge here. You have my deepest apology.”
“That is all right Lt. Baker. You ordered the same action that I would have. What would you normally do next?”
“Probably pull most of the patrol we have along the jungle edge and send it to the location of the attack if our information about it proves true,” Lt. Baker answered. “I need to go to the map room but if the location of the attack proves to be where I remember, it is between Junction and New Naples. That gives us no time to intercept the attackers before they get back in the jungle if that is where they are headed and I don’t see
where else the attackers could hide.”
“And if this is a ruse to pull our attention back to the caravans and their problems, what do we do then,” Agent Smithe asked gently?
“I…um…I didn’t think of that,” Lt. Baker said.
“Don’t feel bad, James,” Lt. Adams put in, “probably none of us would have thought of that. At least not right away.”
“How did they get past our patrols anyway?” Lt. Cope asked. “I thought the patrols were to keep large groups from entering or leaving the jungle areas and this was certainly a large group.”
“You know we don’t have the manpower to seal the jungle that tight, Lt. Cope. If we used all of our manpower and all of our patrol aircars small groups could exit or leave the jungle to meet up later,” Lt. Baker responded. “Our patrols are just hoping to be lucky and catch a group unawares. That is why we have them patrolling in random patterns.”
“Enough going over past actions. Do we have anything new on Captain Santos’ daughters?” Agent Smithe asked.
“We received word through one of our informers that the girls definitely reached Chief Onn’s village looking for ‘Charlie’ and apparently, but not confirmed, left with one of the villagers,” Lt. Baker said. “Beyond that, nothing.”
“All right. We have more officers arriving here at headquarters by this evening, so I want all of you to eat a decent meal and get at least a few hours sleep,” Agent Smithe said. “And that is an order. None of us can think straight without some sleep and we are going to need to be sharp before this is over. Leave a way to be reached, whether at home or the barracks here. I am including myself in this order. I will try to talk with Captain Santos this evening and expect to be back here at 2000 hr. That’s all.”
Liam fully intended to get some sleep, but before he left headquarters he stopped by the stored arms room, his federal identity opening the complicated, and reported foolproof, locking system on the first steel/alloy door. He still had to provide retinal information, even though there was no possibility of that information being on file to match. Subsequently he had to use his I.D. again to override the
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