Alien Skies, page 39
part #3 of Wakanreo Series
The commander looked to Da Gama. “Did your team find out anything from the picture, Chief Da Gama?”
The Intelligence Chief shook his head. “Not very much, I’m afraid, sir. All we can say is, it appears that Lieutenant Hailoaka is being held in a rural setting. All my Wakanrean agents think the wall behind him is most likely some kind of agricultural building. It’s made of stone, and stone was often used in older barns and sheds. In a close-up of the floor, you can see dirt, some sort of straw, and what appears to be grain. It’s most likely a shed or a barn. Unfortunately, the color of the stone tells us nothing. It’s a very common color.”
“It’s not much, but it’s something,” Jared said. “Captain Drushachh, were you able to find out anything about the autocab that Dina Bellaire saw pick up Lieutenant Hailoaka?”
“No, sir.” The Shuratanian woman looked distressed. “There was a report of an autocab stolen about a month ago, but the Munis were never able to get a line on it.”
“If that’s the same cab, then they’ve been planning this for a while,” Jared said. “Do we know how they worked the snatch?”
“We have a good idea, sir,” she said. “They had someone staked out and watching the house. We found evidence of at least one person hiding in the lane that runs next to the house. We don’t know if they were specifically waiting for Lieutenant Hailoaka or just anyone they could use to force his wife into this position. Apparently, it was a matter of timing. Once they saw him arrive, they were ready with their own rigged autocab.”
Jared turned his attention to the Miloran sitting next to Drushachh. “Lieutenant Ohrihan,” he asked, “what about the second transponder? Assuming it’s still in place, why can’t we pick up the signal?”
The Miloran woman cleared her throat. When a Miloran did that, it sounded a little like someone rattling a fifty kilo metal drum half full of gravel. “We don’t know why not, sir. It was working fine when the Lieutenant left the base. It’s a sophisticated piece of engineering for a transponder. Standard scanners won’t pick up the device itself, and the signal is hard to track unless you know it’s there. It’s even able to perceive nearby detection devices and cease operation temporarily. According to the transmission log, we lost the Lieutenant’s transponder signal as soon as he got into the second autocab. That suggests to me that the autocab was shielded. However, from the picture, we know he’s not still in the cab. Since it’s hard to imagine anyone shielding a stone building, I would suspect a dampener is muffling the signal so badly that we can’t locate it.”
“If we’re pretty sure the signal is being muffled, is there any way we can still look for it?” Jared said. “Can we look for the dampener itself?”
Ohrihan nodded. “We’re doing that, sir, but it’s slow. We have to search by flying over an area and bouncing a narrow beam of sound off of the ground. If the signal comes back muffled, we know we’ve got a dampener in place.”
“Well, keep at it,” said Jared. “Remember, we know almost precisely what time his wife received the message with his insignia. If we assume that the autocab had a standard speed, we should be able to determine the maximum distance it could have travelled in the time between his disappearance and the time she got the letter with their demands. Use that distance to draw a perimeter and concentrate on all the rural areas within it. If you need more resources, say so.”
“Yes, sir,” said the Miloran.
“Anyone else have any questions or suggestions?” Jared asked. No one said anything. “All right, then, let’s get back to work. It’ll be light in a few hours. I don’t know how long we can count on them keeping him alive after his wife meets their demands. We have to find him as soon as possible.”
When they had all left the room, Jared sat there for a minute staring down at the enhanced picture of Kamuhi standing in front of the stone wall. He sighed regretfully. “Well, kid, I got you into this. I hope to God I can get you out of it.”
KAMUHI awoke to the sound of the door of his prison creaking open. He woke quickly this time, and he knew where he was right away. There was a faint gray light coming through the door. It must be dawn or a little before it. Kamuhi was conscious of being very cold.
He looked up. His visitor was Inchauro Perduay. The Wakanrean hauled him to his feet easily and stood back and looked at him.
“You’re going to die today, fijazhai,” he said in Standard. “I want you to know that. You’re going to pay for taking my shahgunrahai away from me.”
Kamuhi decided it was time to speak. If he could make Perduay lose his temper, he might be more likely to make a mistake.
“I didn’t take Yulayan away,” he answered in Standard. “You drove her away. You threatened to kill her.”
“She would have come back to me if it weren’t for you!” the Wakanrean said angrily. “She belongs to me!”
“But she let me into her bed long before she met you.” It was a deliberate attempt to make the Wakanrean angry, and it worked. Perduay pulled a knife from his pocket and unsheathed it. He lunged at Kamuhi, but the Terran stepped back and kicked the weapon out of the Wakanrean’s hand. Kamuhi found it difficult to maneuver with his hands bound, but fighting one-handed had been good practice. He was able to get in a kick to the stomach that knocked Perduay down and left him momentarily breathless. Unfortunately, Kamuhi fell down, too. He got up quickly and made a break for the door of the shed.
He had underestimated the effects of a day of abuse combined with a night in the cold with no food and no water. He made it out of the doorway, but he stumbled and almost fell after going only a few meters. A few seconds after that, the Wakanrean tackled him and took him to the ground. He grabbed Kamuhi by his ankles and dragged him into the nearby barn.
Kamuhi was dizzy again. When Perduay let go of him, he tried to roll over and stand up, but he couldn’t get to his feet. The Wakanrean grabbed his shoulders and dragged him over to a post that supported the barn roof. He propped Kamuhi’s back up against the post while he snatched up a length of rope from a hook on the wall. He ran the rope behind Kamuhi’s back and then around his arms a couple of times, and then knotted it tightly, effectively tying Kamuhi to the post.
Perduay stood over him and pulled his knife again.
“Now, fijazhai,” he said, standing a little to one side where Kamuhi couldn’t kick him, “you’ll pay the price for your sacrilege. When I’m finished, you’ll be glad to die.” Kamuhi said nothing. He had run out of options and he didn’t think begging for his life would do any good. He took a deep breath and thought about Yulayan and Malia. Inchauro bent down and put the tip of the knife at the base of Kamuhi’s throat, pressed lightly, and dragged the point of the knife down his chest. He stopped with the knife right at Kamuhi’s waist. Blood trickled from the shallow cut and Kamuhi gasped. There was a noise behind the Wakanrean, and Inchauro looked around. Baou was standing behind him.
“What do you want?” Inchauro said crossly, over his shoulder. “This is my business. Get out.”
The other Wakanrean said nothing, but shook his head. He raised his hand and Kamuhi saw that he had what looked like Kamuhi’s own ThreeCon-issue stun gun. Baou fired, and Inchauro fell to the ground without a sound.
Baou walked across the barn and looked down at the unconscious Wakanrean. He stooped down and rolled Inchauro over so that he lay on his back with his head near Kamuhi’s feet. Then, still without saying a word, he went back to the door and opened it. Another Wakanrean came into the barn.
At first Kamuhi thought he must be hallucinating. It was the old Wakanrean woman who had asked to see Malia. Umphauron Diow was still wearing an old fashioned skirt and blouse, but she also had on a heavy jacket against the chill dawn air.
She came closer, and Kamuhi realized he wasn’t having delusions. It was really the same old woman who had come to the front gate at ThreeCon Headquarters. If nothing else, she walked more slowly than anyone Kamuhi had ever known. She stopped her slow stride when she came to Perduay’s unconscious body. She lifted one foot and rested it on his shoulder as if to keep him from moving, and then she reached into her jacket and pulled out something. Kamuhi could see that it was a jaquhan. Before Kamuhi could say anything, she pointed it at Inchauro’s chest and fired.
There was an odd noise, a combination of a loud popping, like air being let out of bag quickly, and a tearing sound. Inchauro’s chest became a mass of blood and tissue, torn skin and muscles. The three-pronged projectile wasn’t even visible, it was buried so deeply within his body.
Umphauron Diow looked down at the blood on her skirt with distaste. She looked over at Kamuhi, and then she turned and said something to Baou in a Wakanrean dialect that Kamuhi didn’t recognize. The man nodded and went away.
The old woman hobbled over to Kamuhi and squatted down next to him. She scrutinized the wounds on his chest, arm, and face carefully.
“Kantai Diow,” Kamuhi said carefully in Wisutan dialect “can you untie me?”
She blinked once and shook her head. “No, fijazhai. You must stay where you are. But don’t worry. Those who threatened the Trishenhai are dead.”
“Is that why you killed him?” Kamuhi asked, pointing at Perduay’s body with his chin.
“Yes,” she said, “that and to save you. The Trishenhai needs you. One day you’ll lead her to the stars.”
“Thank you,” said Kamuhi.
She nodded but said nothing. Baou came back into the barn with two blankets and a flask. Umphauron Diow took the blankets and carefully wrapped one around Kamuhi’s shoulders. She draped the other over his legs. She held the flask up to his mouth so he could drink, and he found that it contained amber wine mixed with water. He drank thirstily. “Thank you,” he said again.
Umphauron Diow nodded again. Baou asked her a question. She answered it, and seemed to give more instructions. Baou went away again.
The old woman knelt in front of Kamuhi and touched the wound Inchauro had made on his chest. It wasn’t deep and the blood had started to coagulate. She picked up Inchauro’s knife and held the point just as Inchauro had, at the base of Kamuhi’s throat. Kamuhi felt a mixture of alarm and confusion, but she merely reopened the wound a little so that it bled again. She touched her finger to the cut and wet it with thoroughly with Kamuhi’s blood. Then she traced a design on his forehead and said, “The blood of the fijazhai will be the blood of the Trishenhai.”
Kamuhi felt suddenly light-headed and disoriented. It seemed incredibly strange that this ancient Wakanrean woman was using his own blood to mark his body. Baou came in again followed by five other Wakanreans, four males and one female. They formed a line, Baou first, and knelt down in front of Kamuhi and the old woman. For each of them, Umphauron Diow wet her finger in Kamuhi’s blood and then traced a design on their foreheads. Each time she said something in a language Kamuhi couldn’t understand. He suspected that it was the same phrase she had used when she marked him because the word fijazhai appeared at about the same point in it. Kamuhi could see now that the design was the mark of Paruian. He recognized it from Yulayan’s heicha.
When the last Wakanrean had received the mark, Baou moved forward again and, just as the old woman had done, he wet his finger with Kamuhi’s blood. He made the mark on Umphauron Diow’s forehead and repeated the phrase for her.
All seven of them rose and left without a word or a backward glance. Kamuhi sat tied to the post, uncomfortable but no longer afraid. Less than a meter away from him, the body of the man who had been Yulayan’s shahgunrahai lay still and lifeless.
KAMUHI never knew exactly how long he sat in the barn. He had drifted off to sleep when he was roused by someone shaking his shoulder. A round Shuratanian face peered down at him. Bright emerald eyes looked anxious. Kamuhi realized he was looking at Drushachh.
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said.
The Shuratanian smiled with relief. “You’re out of uniform, Lieutenant. I’ll overlook it this time, but don’t let it happen again.”
“No, ma’am,” Kamuhi said. “I’m afraid I’m rather a mess, too.”
Someone, he thought it might be Sergeant Quolund, had untied his arms and was releasing the restraints. When he felt his arms free, Kamuhi tried to move but he couldn’t. He almost fell over, but Quolund caught him.
“Kam!”
Kamuhi recognized the voice. “Hello, Jared—Commander,” he said, looking up from where he sat on the floor.
Jared waved a hand. “You can forget the protocol for now.” He stood shaking his head and looking down at Kamuhi. “My god, kid, you look like hell. They really put you through the wringer.”
“Yes,” Kamuhi agreed. “Is Yulayan all right?”
Jared hesitated. “She’s fine.”
“Did she have the operation?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Kam. We hadn’t found you yet, and she wasn’t willing to try to stall anymore. She went ahead with it. I got a ThreeCon doctor to do the work with the qatorglynai shill watching. She’ll be fine, but the implant is out.”
“It’s not critical anymore.” Kamuhi pointed to where someone had dragged Perduay’s body a little out of the way.
“Another one?” said Jared. “There are three in the house.” He looked down at Inchauro. “My god, this one’s a mess. It’s Perduay, too. Did you do it?”
“No,” said Kamuhi. “Can you help me up, Quolund?”
Quolund looked at Jared who shook his head. “Not just yet,” the Commander said. “Let’s get the doctor in here first.” He squatted down and, taking Kamuhi’s chin in his hand, he turned his head toward the light of the doorway. “They must have thought you were a cheap steak, Kam. First they pounded on you, and then they cut you up. The gash on your face looks bad. That one will take some time under an accelerator.”
When Kamuhi didn’t answer, Jared stood up. “What happened to your forehead? It’s got blood on it, but it doesn’t look like another cut.”
“It’s not. That’s the mark of Paruian. That part is pretty weird.”
“Tell me what happened here,” Jared said. “Who killed all these people?”
Before Kamuhi could answer, the doctor came in. It was the same young officer who had gone on the mission that rescued Yulayan. She shooed them all out of the way and checked Kamuhi out thoroughly.
“He needs treatment right away,” she finally said. “He’s lost some blood, he’s dehydrated, and he’s covered with cuts and contusions, some of them pretty nasty, especially the gash on his face. His nervous system is a little haywire for some reason, like he’s been repeatedly stunned or something.”
“Can I get up now, Lieutenant?” Kamuhi asked again.
She snorted. “You can try. I doubt very much that you’ll make it.”
He didn’t quite. His knees gave out on him at the last minute and Quolund had to catch him again. Kamuhi felt himself sliding back into unconsciousness.
“Put him on the transport, Sergeant,” he heard Jared say. “I need to hear Captain Drushachh’s report, anyway. I can wait a little bit to find out what happened in here.”
“Yes, sir,” said Quolund. He picked Kamuhi up and threw him over his shoulder. The last thing Kamuhi saw was the Miloran’s feet climbing the steps of the waiting transport.
Chapter Twenty-Three
They got Kamuhi cleaned up and made him as comfortable as they could on the transport. He started to drift between sleeping and waking on the ride back to Headquarters. When he woke up in the hospital, the doctor had checked him into a bed.
Kamuhi was arguing with a medtech when Jared came into the room.
“Shut up and do what you’re told, Lieutenant,” said Jared. “I need to hear your story, or I’d have let them put you under on the transport. As it is, I need you awake to tell me what happened.”
“Yes, sir,” said Kamuhi automatically. He lay back on the bed, but pressed the control to tilt it so he wasn’t flat on his back. They had removed the remnants of his uniform and given him a hospital robe to wear. This one at least fit. The medtech bustled around the room checking dials on the bed and adjusting the temperature controls.
“I want to see my wife, sir,” Kamuhi said.
“Later, Lieutenant,” Jared said. “She’s just out of recovery herself, and this has to come first.”
Kamuhi nodded. “All right, sir.”
The medtech left the room, and Jared sat down on a chair. “You gave me quite a scare, Kam.”
“I was pretty terrified myself,” Kamuhi agreed. “They talked about killing me with alarming frequency, and I was worried about Yulayan and Malia, too.”
Jared took out a recorder similar to the one Da Gama used and set it on the table. “I have four dead bodies on that farm, kid. I need something for the record explaining how they died. Keep that in mind.” He switched on the recorder and gave his name, the date, and their location.
“Lieutenant Hailoaka,” Jared said, “I want you to relate to me exactly what happened to you yesterday and today. You don’t need to give me the conversations word for word right now—we can do that part later—but don’t leave out any details and tell me exactly what happened.”
“Yes, sir,” Kamuhi said. He started with the moment he had realized something was wrong with the autocab. He went through the entire experience, giving the names of the qatorglynai as he had learned them. Jared stopped him once.
“To whom did Grazau say to give the picture, Lieutenant?”
“A woman named Muhoun, sir. He said Muhoun would get the picture to the parundai right away. I assumed he was talking about my wife.”
Jared stopped the recorder and made a quick call on his personal com asking Da Gama to check out a Wakanrean named Muhoun, who most likely had connections with the Hospital for the Infirm. Then he started the recorder up again.
“Go on, Lieutenant,” he said. “After they took the picture, what happened next?”
Kamuhi went through Grazau’s attempts to make him talk, from the beating, to the torture with the modified stun gun, and finally the assault on his face. He related his efforts at finding out about his surroundings and his awakening that morning. When he reached the point in his description where Inchauro had dragged him into the barn, Kamuhi paused.
