BEYOND THE PALE: ( The Outlander )

by Gil Senan, Senan

  “I will tell my son Hassun to go with you,” interjected Isuzu. “He will confirm that this is the will of the elders, and River will listen. You can take two of the horses and make good speed.”

  Chapter Eight

  Nathan Carlson waited anxiously whilst the receptionist paged the doctor. He was aware that this was not the appropriate way for the two professionals to interact. Usually he would formally request information through an authoritative channel. His department's authority was usually enough, but his rank would usually ensure a quick response. This however was different. River was his responsibility, and under his supervision. He had brought him inside the citadel after fast-pathing him through the usual detention and quarantine processing. Now the young man had developed some form of sickness and extreme fever, from which he now understood he was not responding to treatment. Carlson knew that he could face some serious disciplinary action for dereliction of procedures, and for introducing a foreign untreatable pathogen into the citadel through bypassing quarantine.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of a middle aged Asian man wearing scrubs. He looked distracted in a busy way, but he also showed evidence of nervousness. The Doctor extended his hand.

  “I am Doctor Khan, pleased to meet you Major Carlson. How can I help you?”

  “Thank you Doctor Khan, I am familiar with your work schedule and I believe you are treating a young man who was admitted yesterday, and was unconscious with a fever.”

  “The outlander, yes; He is stabilising, but sedated for now.”

  “How do you know he is an outlander,” Carlson enquired genuinely surprised.

  “Where would you like me to begin Major? He has no medical history or post natal implanted identity information; no implants at all. There are abrasions and calluses all over his skin suggesting he lives in an unfriendly environment, and a constitution which I have not seen the like of.”

  “Okay Doctor, I am impressed. The young man is an outlander and was... is… in my custody.” Carlson paused for emphasis whilst he searched the doctor’s body language for clues. “Doctor Khan, this is a sensitive matter concerning the potentially lethal virus or infection which he may be suffering from. We cannot risk any...”

  “Not an infection!” the Doctor interrupted Carlson in mid sentence -“I can ensure you Major, he has no infection. When he was admitted, we thought it might be a virus on account of his high temperature. We administered the usual antibiotics and anti inflammatory, and then his fever went critical. He has been on life support for most of the night, but we noticed that his body temperature dropped when we suspended his antibiotic treatment. Since then, we have suspended all intravenous and oral medicines.” A short pause followed and then the doctor continued, “As suspected, he has responded well and is no longer critical. We suspect his whole sickness to be induced by an extreme allergic reaction.”

  “Allergic to what,” Carlson genuinely enquired.

  “Allergic to medicine for one thing, and allergic to this..,” the doctor held out his hand to the Major and dropped a small metallic sphere about a millimetre in diameter into Carlson's palm. He knew what it was he had seen many before. It was the small security spore that the Environment officer had injected into his arm the other day.

  “Did you extract this?” asked the Major.

  “No” the doctor replied “We lanced a boil last night and found that his body had ejected it itself. We re-injected it as a matter of procedure, and found it pushed out through a new abscess about three hours later.”

  “He is going to need it,” Carlson pointed out a fact obvious to both men. “Perhaps you could re-inject it into his bone tissue to secure it.”

  “I think that if we did that Major, his body would probably still expel it, or he would probably die in the process. We came to the conclusion earlier on, that his initial fever was induced by a severe allergic reaction to it, and we cannot find a drug effective in cancelling this allergic reaction. Because…” This time the doctor paused while looking for the right words. “Because, we do not think it is a bio-medical allergic condition. We have come to the conclusion that his body is physically rejecting something it sees as alien and a corruption, and it has somehow developed a way to physically move it and push it out of the body.” Carlson looked very dubious and the doctor acknowledged this with a shrug and raised eyebrows. Khan continued, “Major, I know this is very unusual and perhaps even unbelievable, but you must trust me on this. A team of doctors have looked into this with me. It is our collective diagnosis that his whole constitution is different than ours. Perhaps it has mutated, but whatever the cause, we can clearly see that his body violently rejects any implants, or any drugs or medicines which we deliver orally or intravenously.”

  “All drugs; I thought you said you sedated him,” challenged Carlson.

  “He sedated himself somehow; he is in a deep sleep at present. We will of course page you as soon as he awakes.”

  Carlson thanked the doctor and allowed him to return to his busy schedule. This young man who had probably saved his life still intrigued him and continued to surprise him. He was genuinely glad that he was going to recover, and very happy that his guest had not introduced some untreatable virus from the outlands.

  Chapter Nine

  The two men rode in earnest, Hassun on his chestnut mare, easily matching the furious pace set by Isa on his favorite bay and white Choctaw. Isa would not rest he knew, until his brother was found, and in his silent and determined focus, Hassun was acutely aware of Isa’s deep misgivings, ‘I should never have left him,’ he had confided in Hassun when River had failed to return from the ridge. Ten years his senior, he had watched Isa grow up and knew well his character and the standards he set for himself. It was he who had taught the brothers to ride and execute manoeuvres on horseback. It had always been Isa on these occasions, who had pleased him the most by wanting to stay late to practice his skills and perfect his technique.

  Horses were in Hathor’s blood. Descended from the Ute, his ancestors were credited with being the first Native Americans to acquire them. He and his father could trace their ancestry back to the tribal unit known as the Mouache Band. His father, Isuzu; steeped in ancient history, had spoken to him of their illustrious past; how their people had escaped the colonial bondage of the Spanish taking their horses with them, and how they sang as they rode, offering songs to the mountain passes in their ancestral land. He was proud of his Ute heritage and it’s once legendary reputation for being the fiercest of all warrior tribes. Heavy set with a broad, muscular frame, Hassun’s strength and proud bearing gave testimony to his celebrated bloodline. Even as a child, there had been something solid and enduring in his nature that had inspired the Elders to give him the name of Hassun, meaning ‘stone’.

  The red rocks of the ridge were situated in traditional Ute territory and Hassun felt inspired by their enduring beauty. At sunset a warm orange glow would settle about the rock, casting shadows in the vales and grassy plains nestling below. This whole area was known to the Elders as the Valley of Miracles. Towering in the background behind it was the mighty peak of Sun Mountain; home to Manitou the Creator. As a boy, his father had told him the story of the bear who seduced the Creator’s daughter. Legend had it that the issue from this union gave birth to the Ute nation. The bear as a consequence was revered by his people and on occasion, he himself was affectionately referred to as ‘Padooa’ meaning ‘bear’ in Paiute. Many was the time; he mused fondly, that young Isa and River would crawl up on his back, begging and cajoling for a ride on the ‘bear’.

  Since River’s absence from the settlement, an uneasy tension had settled about Avana. His disappearance was troubling enough but trailing in its wake was a palpable and insidious mood of apprehension; had the security of the entire settlement also been compromised? Hence it was not only on account of his size and considerable strength that Hassun had been selected by the Elders to accompany Isa, back to the scene of the encounter with t
he city dweller; he was also in possession of tracking skills and could be relied upon to cover his own.

  Having passed the massive portals of the Gateway Rocks on the eastern approach and the jagged sandstone peaks of White Rock, Isa slowed his horse to a canter. “This is it,” he said, pointing further along the ridge to where the secluded entrance of the cave was hidden in the rock. “This is the place we brought the stranger to,” Hassun nodded as he brought his mare to a halt. “Time to tether the horses,” he said decisively, “we’ll make our approach on foot from here.”

  As they neared the cave entrance where Isa had so reluctantly set up camp, he thought ruefully of the last conversation he had had with River inside - “All will be well brother!” The memory of these words chimed in his head, mocking and accusing the absence of his own conviction on that fateful morning. His gloomy reverie was noticed by Hassun who put a solicitous and consoling hand on his shoulder. “Wait here,” he said gently, “and until I give the all clear, I want you to stay out of sight. Understood?”

  Hassun noted the military style footprints in the dusty soil near to the cave entrance. Without stopping to investigate further, and taking care not to disturb the tracks, he entered the narrow opening that Isa had identified and crawled up into the larger chamber. For several seconds, he stood motionless against the rock wall, just listening whilst his eyes adjusted to the light inside. A faint smell of food still lingered in the cool musty interior and would be; he reflected, even now - an enticing draw for coyotes. Moving further into the belly of the cave, he noticed the torches that Isa had made and the remnants of the campfire. From somewhere in the shadows, he could hear the sound of water, dripping, in a slow, intermittent rhythm. Satisfied that the cave was unoccupied and free from predators, he crouched down to examine the ash and burnt out embers of the campfire.

  Returning outside, he signalled for Isa to join him. “Watch where you tread,” he cautioned, as Isa approached, and lifting his chin to indicate the tracks, he motioned a path that skirted to the side of the powdery trail.

  “Ranger’s boots!” said Isa, with a dark foreboding. “Nothing inside?”

  Hassun shook his head as he stooped to study the tracks. “The campfire is old, and burnt for only one day. No one has been here since.”

  “River would not have hung about here knowing the danger. My guess is he would have been watching from the ridge.”

  “Maybe,” said Hassun distractedly, as he followed the tracks leading away from the cave.

  “Somewhere out of sight ... like there for instance, up on that ledge.” Isa pointed to the very spot from which River had kept his vigil.

  Hassun’s attention remained focused on the dusty trail that was now opening out and leading him on to a clearing in the scrub.

  “I have seen these markings before,” he said, pointing to a heavy indentation in the soil. “And here too, see? These have been made by the landing struts of one of their aircraft. You can still see where the sandy top soil in the surrounding scrub has been displaced by the thrust from the directional jets.” Retracing his steps, he indicated a few such patterns to Isa. “This one here is entirely different however. The trail is narrow and light by comparison. Give me your boot!”

  ”You want me to take it off..?”

  Hassun affirmed with a beckoning motion whilst nodding his head. “These are the ones you wore for running the bounds are they not? spiked moccasins, same as River’s. See how the trail leads back to the scree at the base of the cliff, and either side - more boot marks, feint but unmistakably military. With the sole facing upwards, he drew the tip of the boot across the soil in a forward motion, to demonstrate a match. Isa watched in silence, piecing together the scene of his brothers’ misfortune.

  ”This is good news Isa. It means that he was almost certainly alive when they abducted him. He would not have been dragged in this manner had he been dead. Clearly he was stunned and unconscious, but there’s no blood or evidence of wounding,” Isa continued to brood, remaining resolutely unconvinced by any notion of ‘good news.’

  ”What now?” he asked fiercely, looking across at Hassun and feeling utterly hopeless. Hassun returned his furious gaze with a gentle understanding in his eyes that touched Isa’s pain and had the effect of releasing in him an explosive burst of rage. With adrenalin pumping, Isa reached for a rock and hurled it against the cliff face.

  Shattering against the wall with an echoing clatter, it bounced the riven fragments high into the air. Hassun watched as dust particles and loose stones, disseminated into the scree below. Unflinching and composed, he knew well the depth of Isa's feeling for River and the extent to which he had been holding at bay his fears and painful remorse.

  Still staring at the spot where the rock had smashed, his attention was drawn to a collection of branches and twigs woven tightly together. He walked over to take a closer look. It was the discarded remains of the carrying frame that Isa had constructed as a stretcher for the wounded man.

  “This is your work?” he said to Isa, who had now wandered over to join him. Isa nodded gloomily as he prodded it aggressively with the heel of his foot.

  Hassun lifted the frame to examine it further. It was still largely intact save for some binding that had worked itself loose on the cross member at the top. He pulled on the loose end whilst noticing that the joint seemed bulkier than all the others. As he began to unravel it, a small tubular object emerged in the palm of his hand. Glancing across at Isa, who was gazing on in astonishment, he squeezed it uncertainly between his fingers. Instantly the tiny device came to life emitting a low light that was just visible in the glare of the morning sun. “It’s too bright out here,” said Hassun, rising to his feet, “Come, we’ll take it into the cave!”

  He felt a tiny click beneath his thumb as he squeezed the devise again from inside. Once more it lit up, this time projecting a bright holographic beam down on to the smooth rock floor. A sequence of unfamiliar letters and icons were grouped together giving the appearance of some ancient and indecipherable language. A few seconds later however, the image refocused and the characters reconfigured themselves. They were now looking at a message and it was addressed to Isa in bold, blue script.

  Chapter Ten

  River had been awake since the early hours of dawn. He had watched the initial rays of sunlight passing through the bevelled edges of the thick security glass windows. This had created a wonderful prism effect on the white walls of his hospital room. That effect had stopped once the sun had reached higher in the sky. It was the first Sunrise River had witnessed since he had been brought to the Blue Horse City. That was many weeks ago and he had spent the balance of his time either locked up in the windowless cell in the custody of Rangers, or here in this hospital room. There was no other view worth seeing from his window, and nothing to hold his attention as the hours passed apart from the occasional visits from Dr. Khan and his nursing staff. Dr. Khan had explained to him just how close he had come to death with a temperature that had reached critical levels. He had also explained to him that it was caused by an allergic reaction to the implant that he had received. River had only come out of sedation late yesterday. Apparently he was still out cold when his friend Nathan Carlson had visited him earlier on. He hoped that he was coming back soon as he was beginning to feel once more like he was a prisoner.

  When he next saw the Major’s familiar black uniform it was being worn by a shorter and stockier man in his 30s, who accompanied Dr Khan into the room.

  “Citizen Eli River, my name is Sergeant Scott. Major Carlson has asked me to come and collect you. He is sorry that he couldn’t be here in person but he is busy right now. Dr Khan here tells me that all your vitals are normal and that he can discharge you. Do you think you could get dressed? We can go as soon as you are ready,” Sgt. Scott’s speech was very direct and purposeful. His tone was neither friendly nor unfriendly.

  River nodded and was already reaching for his clothes as Sgt. Scott continued “Citizen
River, I am aware that you currently have no personal identity implant which is going to cause you a few logistical problems getting about.”

  “What kind of problems?” asked River.

  “Nothing will work for you” said the sergeant. “Most doors won’t open for you, devices will not recognise you, and you will have no way of paying for anything. However, we have a temporary solution to get around this,” The Sergeant took a thick silver metallic bracelet and firmly placed it around River’s right wrist. “This is a custody bracelet which allows me to override any person’s ID privileges and permissions; which in your present situation is none. However, it also allows me to delegate some basic permissions to you, whilst you are in my custody. These are what we use when we arrest people.”

  “So I am under arrest?” enquired River.

  “Only technically, Citizen River. It means that we have to stay together until I get you booked in to a CPSC, and then we can take it off and find an alternative.”

  “CPSC?” enquired River

  Sgt. Scott noticed that River was dressed now and ready to go and he turned to face Dr Khan. -“Doctor, thank you for your assistance,” and to River, “Come on Sir, I will explain later; lets go!”

  River followed Sgt. Scott past the ward reception and to a lift which took them down to a basement level transport park. The vehicle with the bold black and white livery of the Office of Interior stood out and was obviously their ride. River was asked to sit in the back.

  “Citizens Protection and Security Centre, a CPSC,” Sgt. Scott was talking whilst driving. “You will find then dotted all about the metropolis. They act as custody centres and public access points for citizens dealing with the Office of Interior. You will find a mixed selection of patrolmen, community police, enforcement guards, and public service officers down there.”