Wild Wild West (part IV of IV)

Posted on 25 Feb 2018 @ 12:50pm by Ensign Miraj Derani & Lieutenant Amaranai Franklin

2,584 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: USS Hathaway Holodeck
Timeline: MD 98 0100

Previously on Wild Wild West

"In all honesty, sir," she started. "I do need your princesses help with one more task." She paused. "In fact, it would be a way to seek revenge on some of the men that held your princess."

The old man shook his head.

"Revenge is not our way," he said. "The princess has been reunited with us and here is where she will stay."


And now the continuation...

"But . . ."

The elder held up his hand.

"We only resort to violence when absolutely necessary. Your ways are not our ways and we do not wish to lose our princess again."

Amaranai sighed and looked at Miraj.

"Maybe you could say something?"

Miraj turned back to the men. "Look, um, Mr...?

"Flies With Eagle," he said.

"Flies With Eagle, I owe Amaranai a debt. She's helped me more times than I can count. She needs to get these guys, and if they're hurting our people, we should hurt them back." Miraj gave him her most earnest smile, "Please?"

The old man looked at his princess and then looked at Amaranai. He sighed and thought for several quiet moments.

"I will allow it," he said finally. "But not for revenge. For justice."

He paused.

"You will take Iron Hand and Feather on Wind," he continued. "They will protect the princess."

"I really don't . . ." Amaranai started.

The elder stared at her. His gaze menacing, but earnest.

"They will protect the princess. They understand your tongue. Tell them what they need to do and they will do it."

Amaranai nodded and was asked to leave the tent, leaving Miraj alone with the elder.

"Tell me, princess," he said when the tent was empty. "When you return, are you willing to lead these people?"

"Of course," Miraj agreed. She knew how these games went If she said yes, they'd help her out. "If this is my home, then my place is here."

The elder nodded.

"You will be a good princess," he said and placed a hand on her leg for a brief moment and removed it. "Join your friend and the others. You must hurry and return to us safely."

"I will," she promised.

_________________

Amaranai had been discussing with the two Indians that would accompany them to the next town and she had a hard time deciding how to change her plan. Originally, Miraj would simply walk into the saloon and cause a distraction and Amaranai would sneak around and get into the safe. No harm, no blood, unless those in the saloon tried to hurt Miraj. Having the bodyguards would be helpful, but she didn't want to put any of them in danger, despite it being a simulation.

When Miraj finally arrived, Amaranai pulled her aside and whispered.

"If you don't want to go through this, we can stop," she started. "I didn't expect this twist, so I won't be mad."

"No, I'm having fun. Lets keep going." Miraj insisted "Lets blow these suckers out of the water."

Amaranai was grateful for the response, but was still unsure of how to proceed. Originally, it was meant for Miraj to simply walk into the saloon and distract everyone long enough for Amaranai to enter the office and crack the safe. With her two bodyguards coming along, that was not going to be possible. The brunette even figured they might not allow Miraj to go anywhere near the saloon if they felt she would be in danger. She was going to have to think about it, even if there wasn't that much time.

The two Indians had come with horses and stood before the two women.

"We ride until we reach the outskirts of the town," the first one, Iron Hand, said. "We will determine your plan when we arrive."

Amaranai nodded and mounted the horse carefully. She waited for the others and then began riding toward Dry Lake - the town that she was heading for in the first place. She looked at Miraj as they headed out

"Well," she said. "I guess we did want an adventure."

"Beats writing up training plans," Miraj told her. There's something very refreshing about just running at things screaming with fuses burning in your hair."

Amaranai wasn't sure how to respond to the comment, but simply smiled and tucked the thought into the back of her brain to unravel at a later time.

The town of Dry Lake was pretty much the sort of western town that Miraj would have described from her limited awareness of the genre. Blinking in the the setting sun, One main dust dry street, raised boardwalks running in front of every shop; blacksmith, livery, hotel, saloon, general store, canteen, church at one end, school house at the other. Courthouse, Sheriff's office, bank, and Tyburn Tree.

Miraj blinked at that. But that's what it was. A gibbet, in a three sided triangle, like the infamous gallows of London. And each side held three bodies, swaying gently in the breeze.

Miraj leaned towards Amaranai. "That's not normal. Still want me to run at things screaming."

Amaranai had seen what Miraj had seen. Despite her thinking that it wasn't normal to see a hanging tree outside of town, sometimes "justice" in the American Old West was doled out with a rope, instead of with an investigation and due process. The fact that there were bodies strewn from the tree at the moment was a little out of the ordinary as, usually, the sheriff or local law enforcement would remove the bodies for death verification.

"Swinging men a bad sign," Iron Hand spoke. "Bad luck to be here."

This did not make her plan any easier and now with the "princesses" escorts being spooked, it was going to be even harder.

"It's okay," Amaranai said. "I have a plan."

She paused for a moment to think up a plan.

"Here's what we're going to do."

She looked at the three Indians.

"I'm going to ride into town with the three of you tied up. I'll make chummy with whoever is in charge and while they lock you up, with this knife hidden wherever you can fit it," she handed the knife to Miraj.

"Hopefully, you'll be locked up with other slaves so we can rescue them at the same time. I'll use this dynamite to create a distraction. But be mindful. I'm going to blow up something near to where you might be. Be out of that place quick. Any questions."

The two Indian men looked to their princess.

"Plan B." Miraj suggested. "Use twice as much dynamite as plan A?"

"I don't think that would be wise."

"But seriously, I'm cool with it. Though now with you tying me up, you are never going to convnce me this isn't revenge for the governors bedroom." she stuck her tongue out at Amaranai.

Iron Hand looked at his princess with a strange face, unsure of exactly what she was saying.

Amaranai on the other hand, smiled and tried to play innocent.

"Don't know what you're talking about, princess," she said.

She looked to the others.

"For now," she started. "This is the best plan I have. I need to get close to the man in charge. He's the one I know is using slaves. That just doesn't fly around here. Ultimately, he needs to be the one taken down."

Soudns good. to me. "Got the rope?"

Amaranai grabbed the rope from her horse and handed it over to Miraj.

Miraj took it, and looped it twice, passed it round itself, pushed one loop through the other and back again. Then she slipped her wrists through the hoops, and pulled them tight. She held her hands up. "watch." she tugged her wrists apart, and the knots tightened. "Now, wrists together, twist, hook that thumb there, this thumb here, wiggle wiggle wiggle and ..." the ropes fell off. She gave Amaranai a smug look.

"Show off," Amaranai said to the other girl.

Amaranai looked to the other Indians.

"Are you okay with the plan?"

Iron Hand looked to his comrade and then back to Amaranai.

"It is not ideal but it will suffice," he said.

"Here goes, then," Amaranai said and looked to Miraj. "Go ahead and tie their hands."

Amaranai mounted her horse and took the slack of the rope and started to head toward the small town. As they approached, she noticed a man standing outside of the town holding a rifle. He held his hand up as Amaranai approached. Stopping the horse, Amaranai moved slightly so the man could see the sunshine gleam off of her badge.

"I am Marshall Franklin," she said. "From Twin Dunes, east of here."

"What's with the injuns?" he said, pointing his rifle toward her prisoners.

"I caught them trying to rob a farm," she said. "You were the closest town, so I brought them here. Can I place them in your jail and speak to your Sheriff?"

The man looked at the Indians once more and then back to Amaranai and nodded.

"Sheriff's the third building on the left. He's also the mayor of our find town, so be careful."

Amaranai walked with the prisoners. She noticed that the few people that were walking outside suddenly went inside whatever building was closest. When Amaranai reached the building she had been directed to, she hopped off the horse and pulled the rope with her, essentially tugging the Indians with her.

Amaranai opened the door slightly and peered inside.

"Sheriff," she said. "Could you step outside please?"

The older man inside the room stared at Amaranai for a moment before he decided to get out of his chair and pull his weapon before coming to the door.

"I don't like strangers," he said. "What do you want?"

"I captured these Indians a ways from here but you were the closest town. You mind holding them until I can get a wagon here to take 'em away?"

The Sheriff exited the building and looked at the prisoners. He holstered his pistol and looked them over for several moments.

"I might be able to take them off your hands entirely," he said. "We've been looking for these injuns for some time."

Amaranai knew that the Indians would be appealing for the man. He was a slaver, after all.

"I don't want to put you in any danger, Sheriff," she conceded.

"No problem," the Sheriff offered. "We have a way of dealing with them."

The Sheriff leaned inside and called to one of his deputies who exited the building and took the rope from Amaranai, leading the prisoners away. The Sheriff returned his attention to Amaranai.

"Come on," he said. "You must be parched. Let me buy you a drink."

Miraj glanced back to Amaranai just once as they were split up. She and the two Indian warriors were taken out behind the Sheriffs' office, and towards an open area behind & between the Hotel and the livery stable. Storm cellar doors were built into a risen mound of earth. there was a long plank run through the door handles.

the half-boslic felt her innards twist. All of a pirate's cunning knotwork would amount to a hill of beans if the door was bolted from the outside. As the bar was drawn out, a well to do woman of middling years walked over, parasol shielding her from the sun.

The first guard looked up. "The sale doesn't start until seven, Miss Harkeness."

"Nothing wrong with looking." The woman strutted around the new slaves, inspecting them. She stopped in front of Iron hand, and squeezed his arm gently. "I mean, look at the muscles on this one. Oooh." she gave a little shiver.

"You can view at the sale, Miss Harkness," the guard replied "we need to get the slaves inside, Sheriff's orders."

Harkness sasheyed around to stop in front of Miraj. "I hate these sacks the savages wear. So hard to judge what you're buying." She pulled at the neckline of Miraj's tunic, glanced down it, and released it with a disappointed sniff. Miraj glared at her, but Harkness just looked smug.

The guards pulled the stomr cellar doors open, "You'll have to wait." said the first again, pushing the new slaves into the darkness.

The cellar wasn't completely dark. There were a handful of candles, and a small oil lamp casting thick deep shadows over the mass huddled there. Miraj had to press a knuckle to her teeth. Playing Pirate games had given her some insight into cramped quarters with minimal sanitation, but this was a whole different level.

It stank. Not just faeces and urine and sweat and vomit and rotting flesh and food. But despair and frustrated rage were thick in the air too; with top notes of seething hate and self reproach, for being taken, for being weak.

The cellar was filled with a handful of young men, and a lot more women, some in their teens, most more Miraj's age, early twenties. No-one old. No children. Miraj was grateful for that. Everyone seemed at least healthy, for a given value of healthy. But there was no obvious liabilities to slow them down.

The guards gave her a shove, and she half skipped half stumbled down the stairs into the dark, and the doors shut behind her, the slamming wind blowing out half the candles. She was caught and steadied by the indians at the foot of the steps. There was a grating as the bar was shoved back across the storm doors.

She looked around, loosing the knots around her wrists, and slipping the rope cuffs off. She left them knotted in case she needed to put them back on in a hurry. "Is everyone okay?" she asked the crowd. "Is anyone hurt?"

There was stunned silence. She repeated the question. Eventually there was shaking of heads. "Hungry, thirsty," said one man. "small wounds. They do not want damaged goods" he sneered.

"Good." Miraj turned and looked at the doors. "Becuase we are getting out of here."

"The doors are barred, and we are chained."

Miraj resisted the urge to grind her teeth and snap at the voice of doom. There had to be a way out. "There is a way." She went over to the nearest native and inspected the leg irons. A single shackle, with a chain attached to a link that had been cemented into the floor. Bugger.

She took a candle and inspected the door, mostly so they couldn't see her suddenly frightened and doubting face. She was delighted to discover half barrel hinges - easy enough to knock the pin out and lift out. She just had to figure out what to do about the chains.

The links (there were three of them , each with a number of chains) were firmly seated, and the concrete seemed well mixed and solid. They couldn't dig them out. She examined the cuffs again. These weren't primitive handcuffs with pin barrel locks, but simple hoops of iron hammered round, and closed with a chain link. No key, and needing bolt cutters for a quick release. Did they even have bolt cutters in the 1870s?

She cast around the cellar. What could she do? She wasn't used to being in this situation. She understood pirate tropes, not western ones. At least she couldn't drown. She needed something to pry those chains apart.

To Be Continued

Ensign Miraj Derani

Lieutenant jg Amaranai Franklin

RSS Feed