Chapter 42

After what had happened to Kuuma, Katie would have thought the Gimi couldn’t possibly walk right into a SECOND ambush.

Not hardly.

It happened late the next afternoon, shortly after they completed the descent to the Iso river valley, a considerably more difficult trek for Katie than the journey of the day before.  Her sleep had been tormented by dreams she could not now remember, causing her to toss and turn as if she were laying on a badly rolling ship.  And then every time she had rotated onto her back, a scream of pain in her rump had thrown her awake again.

It was slower going for the Gimi as well; there were fewer of them now, and they had acquired a considerable number of trophies from the air pirates -- and from the brigands’ packs and shelters as well. 

And they weren’t the only ones.  The roll of crocodile hide had gained a fair amount of weight before they had set off once again.

The mood between Katie and her guides wasn’t helping to expedite things either.  Not to put too fine a point on it, their level of rapport would have been much better suited to the arctic than the jungle.  The pinto mare had still not forgiven them for abandoning her, and for their part, the Gimi seemed to hold her at least partially responsible for Kuuma’s death.

Tough snuff as far as Katie was concerned.  The tree kangaroos might not have known what an air pirate was, but they HAD known that some angry furs with guns were looking for their charge.  And it had been Kuuma himself who had led them into that trap; as the leader, he should have been more careful.

That should have gone double the new head-fur, Ta’kina.  Now that the Gimi had seen with their own eyes what their enemies were capable of, they should have been cautious to a fault.

They weren’t... Ta’kina was in the midst of leading the group over the Iso by way of a log ford, when it suddenly became apparent that the wood was rotten.  Three of the Gimi’s legs plunged straight through the bark as if it were thin ice on a pond.

“Christmas,” thought Katie, stopping just in time, “How the Hell have these Keystone Kops in loincloths EVER keep from being wiped out by the Ayon?”

At that instant two furs in coolie hats, a tiger and a marmot, popped up from behind the rocks with Tommy guns leveled. 

But then the big cat immediately lowered his weapon and begun to wave rapidly over his shoulder, shouting in rapid Cantonese.

“Shang Li!  Shang-Li!  It’s Katie Grace!  It’s Katie Grace!”

At once, a dozen more guards came running, led by the red panda, Shang Li-Sung.  And that almost triggered another slapstick tragicomedy.

Before the miners could manage more than a few steps, the Gimi had their weapons up, ready for a last-ditch stand.

“No!” Katie shouted, “Friends!  Friends!”  She had to get between them and the approaching miners before the tree kangaroos warily put their bows and spears away.

When Shang reached Katie, he took one look at her and burst into tears -- the first, and only time she had ever seen him cry.

“Oh, thank the Gods.” he said, but he wasn’t weeping out of joy or relief

He knew...damn that red panda and his flights of intuition, somehow he knew what they had done to her.

Shang next called for a couple of volunteers to serve as litter bearers, but Katie archly brushed the gesture aside.

“I’ll WALK back.” she told him, in that voice she used when there was to be no questioning of her orders.

For just a trace of a second, Shang’s eyes darted to the long, dark stains crisscrossing the seat of her borrowed trousers...then he reluctantly nodded his assent.

On the trek back, Katie recounted her experiences for the red panda, leaving out the more sordid details.  Then, her ears vanished into her scalp.

“Shang?  We have a cuckoo in our nest back in Iso.  That shotgun didn’t unload itself...and if you think it’s only a coincidence that the Fortuna wouldn’t start on the SAME day those air-pirate bastards were laying for me, I have this bridge in Brooklyn to sell you.”

Shang responded by telling her she was right, there was a traitor in the camp...or rather, there had been; he had fled before being found out.

“We’ll get him, though.” he added, quickly... and was rewarded with a look that said, ‘you better!’
 
After Katie had taken off in the autogyro, Drake Hackett had checked over the Lockheed Air Express...and discovered that someone had filled the fuel tanks with diesel instead of gasoline.  That was odd.  He had fursonally topped the tanks with av-gas the previous evening.  Striper McKenna had been there and seen it.

Just the same, no one had thought to suspect sabotage, not even when one of the miners came to report a huge, prism-colored slick, staining the river.  Up until now, the Iso Mine had never experienced even the smallest incident of willful damage to it’s equipment.

But then, a Guinea Airways Junkers had come swooping into the valley with news of Katie’s distress call.  And that was when Shang knew what ahd happened to the Fortuna had been both a deliberate and an intentional act.

“I must tell you, it put me in a dilemma,” he was saying, “To unmask the traitor, the obvious thing to do would have been to lock down the camp and order an immediate search of everyone’s quarters.  That I would have done, but the first order of business was to find and rescue you.  And that meant sending out search parties.”

“I understand,” said Katie with a weary nod.  Though she still wasn’t happy about the traitor having escaped, she understood that her security chief had really been given no option.  “But who was it, Shang?” she demanded, ears laying back again, “Who sold me out?”

By way of explanation the red panda told her that not long after the search had begun, one of the miners had reported that the Toonerville Trolley was long overdue from it’s run to the upriver gold bed. 

They found it abandoned 100 meters south of the camp.

And the Trolley, it so happened, ran on diesel fuel.

“Le.” said Katie, in that same flat, icy voice she had used in her final conversation with the rhino.  Le Ho-Chang -- the brown rat who had served as the trolley’s engine driver.  He had been one of the least liked miners in the camp, having held not only one of the softest jobs but also one of the haughtiest attitudes.  He had considered the regular miners as little better than coolies, while he worked in a position of REAL importance, a fact he never seemed to tire of repeating to all and sundry around him.

And Le had never completely lost his habit of blowing the train-whistle at inopportune moments.  Shang must have called him on the carpet about it a dozen times... but the rodent always seemed to pull his pranks right when his services were needed most, and even then, he always had an excuse.  Le Ho-Chang had been one of those rare individuals with a knack for pushing the rules all the way to the breaking point without ever actually violating them.  If...no, when they caught up with that rat, no one in the Iso Mine was going to plead for clemency on HIS behalf.

“As soon as I heard the Trolley had not shown,” Shang was telling her, “I ordered an immediate search of Le’s shack, on the chance that he might be the saboteur.  We found it in a shambles, clothes scattered everywhere, and his trunk thrown open and left that way; he had obviously packed his things in a great hurry.  Also, there was a large quantity of ashes in his stove...paper residue, and all of it still warm.”

“I don’t suppose you were able to rescue any of it,” said Katie, in a voice of forlorn hope.

“As a matter of fact,” said Shang, “we did.  There was one letter that Le had missed, caught between the trunk and the wall.  At first, it appeared to be nothing more than a friendly greeting from his sister in Canton, but when I sniffed the paper, I noticed the odor of vinegar.  And when the letter was brushed with vinegar once more, a new column of characters appeared.”  Here, the red-panda frowned.  “Unfortunately, this second message was written in code, and I have not as yet been able to decipher it.  But it does prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Le Ho-Chang was the cuckoo in our nest, as you so elegantly phrased it.  Then someone reported that Le had been seen leaving camp with one of the search parties.  I sent a runner to catch up with them, but by the time he did, Le was no longer amongst their number.”

There was something in Shang’s manner that Katie didn’t like; he wasn’t telling her everything...but why?

As if reading her thoughts, the red panda added, “No doubt, we will have to have a private talk...with Le when he’s caught, I mean.”

Katie nodded her understanding.  Not here, not with everyone listening.

“But one very interesting fact,” Shang said next, “the letter was supposedly mailed from Canton, and the return address was in Canton...but the postmark was from Singapore.  As for the date on the letter, it was probably one of the very first that Le received upon his arrival in Iso.”

“Did you find anything else of value in his shack?” Katie asked the panda.  But then the path became almost vertical as they came to a rocky outcropping -- one which the pinto mare found herself too battered and exhausted to climb.  Instead she had to be carried over rocks, much to her embarrassment.

“There was a false bottom in Le’s trunk.” Shang told her when the trek resumed, “empty... and in any case, it means little.  Half the miners in Iso have chests with similar compartments for hiding their valuables.  And they know that I know how to locate them.”  He frowned again.  “But there is one other thing that’s rather puzzling.  Though none of the ashes in Le’s stove were salvageable, I was able to tell that very few of the items he burned were letters.  He had forgotten to stir the ashes you see, and so their shape was more or less intact, even if they were indecipherable.  And so, I was able to conclude that only one or two of the papers were in envelopes.  The rest were just scraps of...what I’m certain had been bright red paper.”

Katie almost asked Shang if he had any idea what they were, then realized he would have told her already if he did.  But there was one thing, “Shang, even I know that red is the Chinese color for luck.  Could that mean anything?”

“That’s just the problem,” Shang replied, his sigh almost visible in the humid air, “it could mean ANYTHING.”

They had to camp overnight again, but this time, Katie slept under heavy netting and also under heavy guard; Shang insisted upon keeping watch over her himself.  He had also sent a runner on ahead to the camp earlier in the day. 

Exhausted though she was Katie still found herself unable to fall asleep.  She was used to sleeping on her back, and that position was out of the question for the moment...to say nothing of the emotional turmoil she was feeling.

Even though the rhino had been stopped well before he could finish with her, Katie still felt the same sense of violation as if she had been taken by every single one of the air-pirates.  And she HAD been stripped naked and beaten...beaten in the most humiliating manner possible.  Would there be any permanent scarring?  Physical scarring that is? 

And WHY?  Why had the air-pirates gone after her in the first place?  She still didn’t have a clue.

A clue wasn’t the only thing she was lacking, either.  Whatever guilt feelings Katie might have harbored over the ‘procedure’ she’d had performed in Darwin, they were gone now, and gone forever.  She might think about what she’d done from time to time, occasionally wonder what Ray Parer or anyone else might think if they knew, but she would never again experience even the slightest pang of remorse for her actions. 

As far as Katie MacArran was concerned, she’d already done her penance for that sin -- done it a dozen times over.

But not as much penance as certain other furs were GOING to do when she saw them.
She rolled over, looking at Shang Li-Sung.

“Shang, I know there’s been an air-search going on for me since I went down.  Has anyone reported any strange-looking planes?   An aircraft with a long duck-bill sticking out of the front?”

“Not that I know of.” the red panda replied.  He hunkered down beside her, shot-gun tilted across one shoulder, “But then I’ve been in charge of the ground search.  The Battler’s been handling the aerial search.  And don’t worry...everyone’s been flying in pairs, and keeping in constant radio contact with Lae.  If the air pirates were to take a shot at any of the search planes, the whole island would know it in a minute.  Every pilot in New Guinea has been out looking for you...and I do mean every single one of them.  Drake Hackett even managed to talk the Battler into letting him borrow his DH-9.” 

For a second, Katie was dumbfounded...until she remembered that the heeler was actually quite an experienced bush-pilot; he had spent several years flitting around the Australian Outback as an airborne roving reporter.

Now Shang coughed and scratched at his nose for a second, as if unsure as to how to phrase his next words.

“There is something else you should know, Your Grace.  When the news that you had been forced down by air pirates reached Hollandia, the Royal Netherlands East Indies Army offered to lend a couple of their Dornier Wal flying boats to the search.  These are armed aircraft, as you know and could have easily dealt with the air-pirates had they crossed paths.”

“But...?” said Katie, raising an ear and an eyebrow.

Shang sighed and shook his head.

“But... the Commissioner’s office in Buna refused to grant them permission to cross into League of Nations territory.”

Katie snorted and laid her ears back, disgusted but not surprised.   The island of New Guinea was in fact, divided into three separate territories.  The western half was part of the Dutch East Indies, the southeast quadrant, including Port Moresby, was under Australian auspices, and the northeast corner, which included Lae and the Iso Valley was governed under a League of Nations mandate.

Or rather, it was largely ungoverned.  Though Katie MacArran was no stranger to governmental pettifoggery, especially after her struggle to save the Republic, she had never seen anything like the League of Nations drones who occupied the Commission offices in Buna.  Without exception these bureaucrats seemed to think that their jobs consisted primarily of justifying their jobs.  An endless river of rules and regulations flowed from their desks, all of which were honored mostly in the breach by the miners -- and left largely unenforced by the bureaucrats themselves.   Most westerners on the island considered them a tolerable nuisance, although every once in a while their lax attitude would become a cause for grief.  After a rash of mail-thefts from the post office in Lae, and no arrests for three months, Katie had moved the Iso Mining and Extraction company’s post office box to Port Moresby...and the longer flight be damned!

The thing that had really driven a wedge between the League commissioners and the miners and pilots of Papua had been the murder of Gordie MacIntyre.  It had been Pard Mustar who’d best summed up the general consensus of opinion, “If those League twits spent ‘arf as much time tryin to solve Gordie’s killin’ as they do writin’ bloody REPORTS about it, they’d ‘ave had ‘is murderers in the lock-up months ago.” 

Indeed, about the only instance in which the Commissioners Office would bestir itself to any vigorous action was in response to a threat to it’s own authority, either real or imagined.  It took no great amount of thought on Katie’s part to imagine the Commission’s reply to the Dutch offer of the flying boats, “While we are genuinely sorry about Her Grace, we must adhere to regulations, and so we cannot permit an armed aircraft of a foreign power over League of Nations territory, not until such time as we receive clearance from Geneva....etc., etc., etc.”

If Katie MacArran had been committed to keeping the League of Nations out of her business with the air-pirates before, now she was doubly determined towards that end..  The only justice Le Ho-Chang would get would be of the roughest, frontier variety...and the same would apply to any remaining air-pirate who fell into her clutches.  In this, the pinto mare knew she would have plenty of support.  Both Bulolo Gold and Guinea Airways would be firmly in her corner, to say nothing of Battling Ray Parer -- and just about everyone else on the island who wasn’t a government employee.  There wasn’t a pilot or a miner in Papua who would bat an eye over the fate of Le Ho-Chang...especially after what had happened to Gordie MacIntyre, and also to Katie herself.

“Shang,” she said, “After what you just told me, I DON’T want the League Commission poking its nose into this.  If any constable shows up in Iso, none of the miners know English...except you, and you’re a little rusty.  Is that understood?”

“Perfectly,” the red panda told her, nodding in vigorous agreement.

“And one more thing.” said the pinto mare, switching to Mandarin and giving her head a shake in the direction of the slumbering Gimi, “As I understand it, there was a reward posted for my safe return, yes?”

“Uh, yes Your Grace,” Shang responded, looking puzzled, “Why?”

Katie’s ears pulled back and her nose wrinkled.

“Because as far as I’m concerned, those arboreal bastards forfeited that reward the minute they ran out on me.  When we get back to Iso, they’re to be sent packing, empty-pawed.  Is that clear?”

“Your Grace,” said the red panda, trying to pick his words carefully, “They would have done the same thing with one of their own...at least the Ayon would have.  If you do this, you will possibly drive them right into the pirates’ camp.  I would most humbly suggest...”

Katie cut him off at the pass.

“Is that CLEAR?” she repeated, the question issuing forth as a hiss between clenched teeth.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Shang responded, his voice revealing no emotion whatsoever, and then he said, “It’s late... and it will be almost an all-day trek back to Iso tomorrow.  You had best try to get some sleep.”

Katie knew she would be unable to, but agreed to attempt it anyway.  She rolled sideways, facing away from the panda, and pulled the blanket close around her.  When she closed her eyes, she only was only able to keep them shut for half a second before they were open again.

The first thing she became aware of was someone poking her in the ribs.  The second thing was...what the heck was the sun doing up in the middle of the night?

The third thing she noticed was that everyone was looking at her as if she were a baby they’d just found in a trash can.

“M-My humblest for waking you like this, Your Grace.” said Shang Li-Sung, his eyes moving quickly away from hers, “But...it’s after nine o’clock.”

Katie started to sit up, and then rolled quickly to the side with short neigh of pain when her backside made contact with the earth.  Almost immediately another shaft of pain pierced her side where the spent bullet had struck.  At once, everyone’s gaze averted from her, as if she had suddenly morphed into an equine Medusa.

“What the Hell?” Katie wondered.  She hadn’t cried out THAT loudly.

Then she saw the Gimi, gathered off to the side...and remembered that they had seen what the air-pirates had done to her.

“Goddam, tree-climbing tattletales!” the pinto mare snarled silently to herself.  She had half a mind now to reward them with lead instead of gold... and it was a good thing she never chose to follow that course of action.  She would later learn that it had not been the Gimi who had spoken the words that were making everyone afraid to look at her. 

It had been Katie herself... talking in her sleep, and even though she had revealed no details, Shang Li-Sung would later admit to her, “Given the tone of your cries in the night, Your Grace, there could be little doubt that you had suffered something most terrible at the paws of the air-pirates.”

Shang was still unable to meet her gaze as he offered her a mug of tea.  It was scalding hot, without milk or sugar, and strong enough to make a comatose sloth jump up and dance a jig.  Katie drained it almost in a single gulp, then fell on the oatcakes and alfalfa cubes next offered her with a ferocity worthy of a carnivore.

That was when they heard the airplanes approaching.  Immediately, almost everyone tensed, and several of the Iso Mining crew reached for their weapons.  Katie MacArran did not become alarmed, and calmly waved for everyone to stand down.

“Relax, that’s not the air-pirates.” she said, taking another bite of oatcake, “One of them’s the Fortuna.  I’d recognize THAT engine anywh...” That was as far as she got before her ears shot up and she spun around on Shang Li-Sung.

“Wait a minute!  Who’s the Hell’s flying her?”

“Either the Battler or Charlie Deal.” said her security chief, unfazed by her show of pique, “Under the circumstances, I thought we should have EVERY plane available helping to...”

But Katie had already turned away...looking anxiously up the valley, in the direction of the approaching engine, arms at her side and pulse quickening, much more than even the strong tea could have accomplished.  Yes, there it was -- scarlet wings rounding a bend in the canyon, with another plane close behind.  She began to frantically wave and shout, even though there was not the slightest chance of either pilot seeing her at this distance.

“Hey!  Heyyyyy!  Down here!  Down heeeere!!”

Someone put a paw on her shoulder.  Without thinking, she drew her shikomi zue, ready to kill the attacker before he had her.

“Beg pardon, your Grace,” said Shang Li-Sung in Mandarin, his own sword out and ready to deflect the blow. “But there is a better way.  Wa?  Bring the red signal, at once.”

But the marmot just stared with wide, frightened eyes... eyes locked on the blade of Katie’s cane sword. 

When the pinto mare followed his gaze, she saw that her weapon’s blade was frosted with dried blood.   Meek and embarrassed, she returned the shikomi-zue to it’s scabbard.  That was ANOTHER thing she hadn’t told Shang about.

But the red panda had other things on his mind at the moment.

“WA!” he shouted, and the marmot scrambled to obey, hastily unslinging a three-foot bamboo tube about the width of an oil can  One end of this was planted in the earth at slight angle, making what could have passed for a crude model of the Leaning Tower of Pisa..  When this was done, the rodent fished a well-worn trench-lighter from his pocket and thumbed it into flame

“Not yet.” Shang admonished, “He is still too far away.” Wa nodded and held back, awaiting the go-ahead from his superior.

Shang watched the approaching planes with narrowed eyes for a moment, the turned to the marmot and nodded.  Obediently, Wa touched the lighter flame to a small hole on the lower ended of the tube. There was a low hiss, and then a loud ‘THWUMP!’ as a ball of incandescent red, burst from the barrel of the makeshift mortar and went arcing into the sky.

Almost immediately, both aircraft altered course, the Air Express jumping out ahead of the other plane and making a beeline in their direction.

“The red signal.” Shang explained, “Means that you’ve been found and that you’re safe.”

Katie pointed to a large rock beside the river, about five paces away and out in the open.

“Someone help me up there, quick!”

Two of the miners rushed immediately to obey, forming a bridge with their paws and lifting her up and onto the top of the boulder.  Katie could see the sun glinting off the Fortuna’s canopy now, and knew that the pilot could also see her.  She watched as he dropped down to almost tree-top level, saw him there inside the cockpit, waving frantically and waggling his wings as the Lockheed shot past where her she stood.

That was when she knew who was flying the Fortuna.  Only Battling Ray Parer would try to wave AND waggle his wings while flying so low.

And yet, even with that knowledge, her eyes remained dry.  As a matter of fact, Katie realized, she hadn’t cried at all after finishing with the rhino.

Then the Air Express pulled up into a sharp, almost vertical climb.  Katie knew what Ray was up to; he was trying to get enough altitude to make radio contact with Lae.  She saw the Fortuna shrink to a small red dot... then it turned and raced back up the valley, towards the Iso River Mine, leaving the other plane, now recognizable as the Parer brothers’ Junkers W.33, far behind in it’s wake.

Katie should have been elated, except... Ray had flown off and left the other pilot alone.  And that Junkers would be little proof against the guns of the air-pirates if they crossed paths.

During the course of that day, several other planes came and went, keeping an eye out for hostile aircraft.  There were Junkers trimotors from Guinea Airways and Bulolo Gold, Ray Parer’s Fokker F.VIIA, probably with the his brother Kevin at the controls, and even the Brumby’s old DH-9, with Drake Hackett in the cockpit came by.  Watching him, Katie was surprised at his skill; the canine handled the DeHavilland as if he’d been flying the New Guinea backcountry all his life.  If Katie had known earlier that Drake was THAT adept as a flier, she would have long ago drafted him into the role of Iso’s relief mail-pilot.

Which, she reflected with a wry smile, was probably WHY the Queensland Heeler had kept his abilities to himself in the first place. 

Clarinet Rock was just coming into view, when a voice hailed them from somewhere ahead on the trail, “Hullo Shang!” boomed a familiar, leathery voice, “It’s the Striper ‘ere.  I’ve come from the camp with Ji Su-King, the herbal doctor fella.”

As anyone could have predicted, Katie refused absolutely to let the ebony-furred cat examine her, not here anyway, but she did accept a small tin of salve he gave her, disappearing behind a tree for a moment and returning with a much less pained looked in her eyes than she’d had a moment previously.

When they arrived back at the Iso mine, the sun had disappeared behind the valley’s ramparts, and torches were being lit along the stockade wall.  From the somewhere inside the compound, a bugle began to blow, and then two more signal rockets went arcing into the sky.

She was finally home.

And there, framed in the entrance gate, was Drigo Chavez... who didn’t seem to know how he should react. “Uh, welcome back, Senorita Duchessa.” he said, in a near mumble, his hat working in his paws, his eyes meeting the ground rather than hers.  The coati seemed to be blaming himself for what had happened  -- as if he should have realized long ago that Le Ho-Chang’s cavalier attitude towards the rules had been only a front for much deeper, darker motives.

Neither did any of the others waiting for her seem to know what to do or to say... and they were everywhere; gathered along the road, assembled on the cargo pad, or watching from atop the wall.  It looked as if every single miner in the camp had come to greet her return.  There were even several faces in the crowd that did not belong to furs in her employ.  Here was Charlie Deal, the rabbit who flew for Guinea Airways, there was Father Cork, spectacles perched on the end of his muzzle, standing with his medical bag at the ready.

But...where was...?

“Katie?”

She looked over Drigo’s shoulder and saw him, pushing his way through the crowd, face a mass of anguish, his body tense and quivering with what might have been rage, or possibly sorrow, but most likely a mixture of both.

And that was when the dam inside her finally broke.

“Ray!” she cried, “Ray!” and rushed towards him, running with a speed she would never have imagined she still possessed.   She almost knocked over Drigo trying to get past him and didn’t care at all.  The only thing that mattered to her now, at this moment, was, “RAY!”

The Brumby immediately launched himself in her direction, the crowd getting quickly out of his way as he ran full tilt towards his lady mare.

When they met, Katie threw herself on the Battler and began to cry, crying louder and harder than she ever had in her life, crying in long, whinnying sobs that seemed to go on for hours.  She felt her legs give way, but the Brumby’s good, strong arms were there to catch and hold her, holding her close while she buried her face in his chest and cried, and cried, and cried.

Ray Parer was crying too.

“It’s all right, Katie.” he murmured, crooning softly to her through his tears, “Shhhh, it’s all right, luv.  Y’ safe now, you’re safe.”

He was far from the only one present with wetness streaming down his face.

And then Katie felt him lifting her up, the crowd parting as he carried her in the direction of the big house, still whispering his words of comfort and holding her as if he would never let her go.  Immediately Father Cork and Ju the herbal doctor fell in behind the Battler.  Katie might need her stallion to hold her right now, but she was going to need their attentions very shortly.

That was when Shang Li-Sung noticed Ray Parer’s brother Kevin, standing off to one side.  He too was weeping -- but he was also shaking his head and regarding the ground, as if he were witnessing an act of terrible folly.

And that was when the evening sky also began to cry it’s eyes out.


When Shang arrived at Katie’s house some time later, Ray Parer was there on the verandah with Striper McKenna, pacing back and forth while the Tasmanian tiger made his best effort to reassure him.

“Don’t you fret mate.  Her Grace’ll be okay; she’s a tough little mare, that one.  Hell, she insisted on walkin’ back to the camp after Shang found her.  Ain’t that right, Shang?”

“Yes, that’s right.” said the red panda, shucking off his oilskin as he came onto the porch.

“Where’ve YOU been?” the Battler asked him, and was there an unpleasant note of accusation in his voice?

“For starters, paying off the Gimi and sending them on their way.” Shang replied, his tone as crisp as dried out rice-paper.  He didn’t need this on top of everything else.

“‘Ang on mate.” said the Striper, his ears going almost straight up “Didn’t Er Grace tell you NOT to pay them that reward?”

“Yes, she did.” the red panda replied, his voice more weary than aggravated, “And when she finds out I disobeyed her, I’ll take full responsibility.  But right now, we can’t afford to make enemies of the Gimi... not with the air-pirates still out there.  And keep in mind that these pirates are no small band of random thieves, they’re a large, well-organized group; they were able to insert a spy into our camp, and that takes no little amount of resources.”

“An’ YOU never spotted ‘im.” said Ray Parer, his acrimony now unmistakable.

That was all, as far as Shang Li-Sung was concerned.

“If you think I have been lax in my duties, Battler,” he said, planting himself before the stallion with both his paws on his hips “you may say so to Her Grace later on.  And by the way, I seem to recall that Le arrived here aboard a plane that YOU were flying.”

Ray Parer’s ears went back against his neck.

“Why you yiffing...!” he neighed, taking a step in the red panda’s direction

That was a far as he got before Striper McKenna got between them.

“Right, that’s enough, both of y...”

The front door to the house opened and Father Cork came out.

“‘Ow is she, Father?” asked the Battler, speaking first.

“She’s going to be all right,” said the grasshopper mouse, raising his paws as though offering benediction, “No serious injuries in at all, really.  A bruised rib, a small cut on her leg, and a few nasty scratches, but they’ll heal up soon enough.”  He coughed, and looked away for a second, “However, you should know that those air pirates...well, they flogged her after catching her.” By way of illustration, he patted his own rump, adding,  “I dunno what they used, but it was something pretty doggone nasty.  She’s practically nothing but stripes back there.”

Shang, who did know what had been used, considered telling the rodent, then decided it wasn’t necessary...and also something Ray Parer didn’t need to hear right now.

“Doc?” said the Brumby, “I...I mean, Father.  Uh, W-W...?”

“I’d say there will be some scarring, son.” said the priest/physician, laying a paw on his shoulder, “But Ju Si-King insists there’s an herbal poultice he knows that will ensure there’ll be almost none at all.” He poked a thumb over his shoulder, adding, “He’s inside now, showing her maid how to make it.”

Ray Parer just looked at the floor, “Uh, that’s not what I m-meant, Father.  D-Did the air-pirates...?  A-After they beat her...did...did...?”

“I didn’t examine her that way, son.” the grasshopper mouse answered, as kindly as he could.

“Yes, one of them did,” said Shang Li-Sung, and all eyes turned in his direction. “But the Gimi stopped it before he could finish.”  He knew he was taking a chance, telling the Battler this now.  But, he reasoned it was better that the Brumby know the truth immediately, than have his imagination conjure up a much worse scenario over time.

Even so, it was enough to set Ray Parer off again.

“Just how d’you know that, sport?” he demanded, ears going back again.

“The Gimi told me.” Shang responded, and added quickly, “One of them saw what happened.” 

Actually, it had been a lot more than just one of the tree kangaroos, but even in his present state of mind, the Battler wouldn’t expect a native Papuan to take on an entire band of heavily armed air-pirates single pawed.   It also went without saying that he could not let on the Gimi had run off and left Katie to the air-pirates..
 
But the stallion just began to cry quietly again, looking wanly towards the door of Katie’s house.  Father Cork saw this and immediately shook his head.  “I gave her a sedative, son.  I know you wanna be with her, but right now the best thing you do for Her Grace is just to let her rest.  It’s what she needs most at the moment.”

When the priest had gone, Shang Li-Sung turned to Ray Parer and Striper McKenna.

“I didn’t want to say this while Father Cork was still here...but the Gimi also told me what Her Grace did to the Carabao, and to the mahene who assaulted her, after she was rescued.” 

“The mahene?” said Striper, blinking in confusion, “Dun’ that mean ‘newcomer’ in North Papuan?”

“Yes,” the red panda replied, “and it’s also the word the Gimi use for a species that they’ve never seen and don’t recognize from any description.” 

“Wait a minute.” said Ray Parer, his voice becoming dry and airy, “Did you say ‘carabao’?  D-Did ‘e have a brand on ‘is chest...like an eight-pointed star in a circle?”

“Nothing that the Gimi told me about.” said Shang, “Why?  Was that someone you know?”

“Cor, mate.” the Striper interjected, his head reeling backward as though dodging a punch, “It couldn’t have been Danny-Boy Petrusky...could it?”

“Who is... Danny-Boy Petrusky?” asked Shang Li-Sung, confused.

“Your predecessor.” the Battler answered, smiling for the first time since Shang and Katie’s arrival. “I’m surprised you never heard of him.  Katie fired him the first day she came here.  I was there an’ I saw it happen.  Stroked him right across the head with ‘is own shotgun, she did, then bashed him in the ribs.  THEN she told ‘im to clear out an’ not come back.”

“Hmmm,” said Shang, stroking his muzzle, “All right, now I know who you’re talking about.  Pointed his gun at her first, yes?”

“Yeah.” said Striper McKenna, “But what really set ‘Er Grace off was when that big bludger flehmened at her.”

“Flehmen?” asked the red-panda, looking more puzzled than ever. “Flehmen, what’s that?”

“It’s how us hooved species demonstrate to a Sheila we’d like to do ‘er.” Ray Parer explained, and then raised his head and curled his nose upward, exposing his gums, “Life diff.”

Shang Li-Sung winced, then groaned.

“All Gods... then that Carabao with the air-pirates WAS Danny-Boy Petrusky, Battler.  The Gimi told me their warrior saw him making that same display to Her Grace several times after she was captured.”

At once the Brumby’s nose went down and his ears went back.

“Easy, Battler,” Shang told the stallion quickly, “Danny Boy’s already dead.  As a matter of fact, he paid for making that gesture to Her Grace in spades.  After Katie was released, she used the mahene’s pistol to shoot Danny’s nose off...and then she shot him twice more in the...”

“STO-O-O-O-OPPPPPP!”

The Battler’s whinny was like an alarm siren, loud and shrill and  piercing as a hypodermic needle...except no siren could ever sound so angry.  So furious was Ray Parer’s outburst, that both Shang and the Striper jumped backwards a good two feet and several figures came running towards the house through the rain.  Over his shoulder, Shang could see the alarmed face of Hsing, Katie’s housemaid, at one of the windows.  He waved and mouthed, “it’s all right” in Mandarin while Striper shouted to the approaching miners that all was well.

The Battler meanwhile, was shaking his head and baring his teeth; one foot was stamping the ground as if keeping cadence with a military march, and his nostrils were flaring like trumpets.  His ears were nowhere to be seen.

“No,” he nickered, a low menacing noise, like the first rumble of a volcano, “She couldn’t do a thing like that to anyone, not my Katie.”

“My...Katie.” Shang thought to himself, understanding for the first time the look he had seen on the face of the stallion’s brother.

“Ray,” Striper McKenna was saying, as gingerly as possible. “You were there, mate.  You saw what she did to Danny-Boy the first time...”

“That’s not the same as blowing someone’s yiffing nose off!” the Brumby bellowed, advancing a step towards the Striper.  Instinctively, Shang’s paw began to reach over his back for his three-section staff.  He didn’t want to...but he would.  He wasn’t angry at the Battler, only very sad for him.

It was only natural that Katie MacArran would not be acting rationally after all she had been through... not for a while at least.  Her order that the Gimi were not to receive the promised reward had been anything but a surprise to Shang.  Nor could Ray Parer be admonished for behaving in a somewhat unbalanced manner, given his present situation.

But not like this.  Even in her worst moments on the trek back to the camp, Katie had never come close to losing her temper and lashing out at him; and she didn’t blame anyone else for what had happened to her...except for the air-pirates and Le Ho-Chang.

And now this new attitude of Parer’s towards Katie had suddenly appeared; possessive, over-protective, and disbelieving of what she was capable.  Shang Li-Sung didn’t like that at all... and Her Grace was going to like it even less.  He could only hope that the Battler would lose this new demeanor when he calmed down... or at least over time.

And he doubted that was going to happen.  The mare that had returned to Iso was not the one that had left only a few days before.  She was harder now, and much more ruthless, capable of the most cold, clinical reasoning when it came to dealing with an adversary.

That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing from Shang Li-Sung’s point of view, but then he was only her chief of security, not her lover.

“Ray,” he said, “I’m only repeating what the Gimi told me, and their description was more than a little sketchy.  And Her Grace was exhausted, please do not forget...and we all know she’s not the best pistol shot in the world.  She was probably aiming for Danny-Boy’s head and missed.”

Even to Shang, the lie sounded unbearably crude.  In fact, the Gimi had made it very clear to him that what Katie had done to the carabao had been a deliberate, calculated act. They had even pantomimed it for him, just to make certain he would understand. 

And that was nothing compared to the way Her Grace had dispatched the mahene.  What would the Battler say if he knew that she had done to him what he had done to her, only using her shikomi zue instead of a fan-belt?  And THEN something had happened that even the Gimi had been unwilling to discuss.

In any event, the lie worked.  Ray Parer stopped in his tracks, patting his pockets for no good reason.  He might not believe that the pinto mare was capable of shooting someone’s nose off, but shooting badly while trying to blow their HEAD off?  Aye, that she was capable of.

“Yeah, right.” he said, lowering his gaze and puffing out his cheeks, properly abashed. “Sorry, mates.  I-I’m not thinkin’ too clear at the moment.”

“Yes...but will you be thinking clearly later?” Shang Li-Sung queried, silently to himself.  And it was well he didn’t voice the question because Striper McKenna immediately laid a paw on the Brumby’s shoulder.

“Course y’not, sport.  Who wouldn’t be feelin’ the same about now, if it was them...?

Someone came rushing towards the porch out of the rain and darkness, a sika deer in oilskins, with a hurricane lamp.  He immediately began shouting in rapid, slangy Cantonese.

“Dri-Go wants you and Striper at number two storage shed right now!  Says come yiffing quick!”

“Cor, NOW what?” said the Tasmanian tiger, glancing sideways at Shang, with a bedeviled expression.

“I don’t know,” said the red panda, “but grab your oilskins.  Whatever it is, it’s serious.”

When they arrived at the storage room, the sika deer, whose name was Fo, refused point blank to accompany them inside, instead shaking his head wildly as if someone were trying to put a noose around his neck.  After several fruitless attempts at persuasion, Shang gave up and ordered him to remain posted at the door and allow no one else inside.  When trio entered the storage-room, the first thing they saw was the partially unrolled crocodile hide, only dimly illuminated by the soft, amber glow of a hurricane lamp left on the floor.  It seemed to be the only thing in the room.

“Drigo?” said Shang, raising his own lamp over his head, “Drigo, where are you?”

“Here.” said a voice from behind them, and all three turned to see the coati with his back against the wall and his eyes wide...as if the thing in the center of the room was no mere crocodile hide, but the beast himself, come to claim his vengeance.

“Drigo?” said Striper McKenna, squinting in bewilderment at the terrified manager of the Iso mine, “Drigo, what’s the matter, mate?”

In response, the coati just raised a finger and pointed at the crocodile skin, “Look.” he said, in a dry, breathless voice.

The closest to the hide was Ray Parer, who took two steps in that direction, and then shied back violently, “Jayzus!”  His warning was not quick enough to stop the Striper, who a second later was on his knees and losing his evening meal. 

Then Shang saw it; there was another hide rolled up inside the crocodile skin.  All right, it was the cassowary hide.  What was so...?  Wait, the cassowary skin was over there.  Then what was...?

That was when he saw the tattoos.

“All Gods!” he gasped, dropping the lantern, along with his jaw.

And it was perhaps because his face was now in darkness that the others assumed his cry had come from the same source as their own.  They could not have been more mistaken.

With a trembling paw, the red panda retrieved the lantern, holding it up again.

“Cor,” said Striper, gazing with a hypnotized expression, “The bloody Gimi SKINNED the yiffer!”

There was a lot that Shang Li-Sung could have said in response to this.  For example, he could have pointed out that while the Gimi had taken a portion of the crocodile skin for themselves, this one was wholly intact.  If he wished, he could have further pointed out that while the croc had been expertly skinned, the job here had been amateurish at best...look here, see how ragged these cuts are?  And the flesh still present here...and here?   Whoever had done this had never skinned out a carcass in their life.

And there had been only one member of the Gimi party who fit that description... and she hadn’t been any Gimi.

That was what Shang COULD have said, but not with the Battler standing there, and absolutely not with him in his present mental state.

“Christ Shang...don’t just stand there lookin’ at it.” said the Striper, “Get a coupla blokes in here an’ have ‘em get RID of that yiffin’ thing.”

The red panda turned slowly around. “It would be better to keep it for a while, Striper.”

“Huh?” said Drigo Chavez, the words appearing to snap him out of his near-catatonic state, “What the yiff for, Shang?”

“To show to Le Ho-Chang when he’s caught, for starters,” Shang replied, surprised at how quickly and easily the lie came, “or to any of the rest of the air-pirates, if they fall into our paws.”

“Ohhhh,” said the coati, his expression changing quickly to one of grim determination, “Yeah, right...let the yiffer think that’s what’ll happen to HIM, if he doesn’t wanna talk.” He folded his arms and slowly nodded, “Yeah, in that case I agree, Shang.”

“Seconded.” said Ray Parer.

“Me too,” said Striper McKenna.

“Who else knows about this, Drigo?” Shang asked him, pointing at the hides on the floor.

“Just Fo, the guy who brought you here.” said the coati.

“Good,” said Shang, “It would be best for now, if no one else does.  If gossip should start to spread through the camp about this, I give it two, three days at most before word gets back to Lae and one more before it reaches Buna.  When THAT happens, we’ll have League of Nations constables crawling all over this place -- something Her Grace has already made very clear to me is the last thing she wants.  And I don’t want it any more than she does; this is OUR business with the air-pirates...no one else’s.  Agreed?”

“Agreed!”

“Damn straight!’

“Too bloody right, mate!”

“All right, that makes it unanimous.” Shang told them, “And now why don’t you go ahead and get out of here?  I’ll take care of getting THAT put away, and then lock up when I leave”

“Sure y’don’t need any help, mate?” asked Ray Parer, hunkering down, apparently contrite over his earlier eruption.

“Just get OUT of here Battler, will you?” said the panda, sounding exasperated, “The miners will be curious enough as it is, over what all four of us were doing in here.  Don’t worry, I can handle it.”

“He’s right, amigo.” said Drigo, taking the Brumby’s arm, “C’mon, let’s go.”

“And don’t forget to tell Fo to wait for me.” said Shang

“We won’t.”

They slipped out the door, closing it behind them.

When they had gone, Shang Li-Sung got down on his haunches in front of the two hides, but did not reach down to roll them up again.  Instead, he just gazed for many long moments, his face an expressionless mask.

Then he reached down to brush his fingertips across first one, then another of the tattoos.

After another minute, or perhaps an hour, Shang Li-Sung rose slowly to his feet, his features now a kaleidoscope of shifting emotions, loathing, amusement, contempt, triumph, and ultimately, loathing again.

He stood looking for another endless moment, then reached down, opened his fly and proceeded to relieve himself on the rhinoceros skin.

“I told you, Chu,” he growled, his mouth pulling taut in a feral snarl, “I TOLD you that one day I would piss upon your grave!”



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