“Expert Team Three! Expert Team Three! Report to ambulance 844-01! Crisis on Green and Queen Victoria! Expert Team Three! Report to Report to ambulance 844-01 immediately!”
Shawn, the team’s rigger as usual rushes to the driver’s side, while Gordon yells “Shotgun suckers!” and jumps in the front passenger seat while the rest of you pile into the back. Shortly after you are heading toward the destination.
“Hey terps,” Gordon says over the intercom. “Delicate situation coming up. I’ll patch this client through to the back so you can hear for yourselves what’s going on.”
The intercom crackles, and then a woman’s voice whispers, “Hello? Um…my name is Gloria Duma. I’m a personal assistant for Peter Barnsworth. He has a DocWagon bracelet, so I guess I’m calling for him too. I can’t see him from where I am, but…”
After a slight pause, she continues, her words gathering speed as she goes. “We work for Parashield Incorporated – the company trains and sells genetically modified security animals to private corporations. Mr. Barnsworth sold some trained cockatrii to Re.. a private corporation, and they were transferred here for shipment, but somehow there was a mix-up and the warehouse never received the authorized forms. We got here about half an hour ago to get everything squared away, and had to do all the forms all over again.”
There is an other paused then she continues “So we started signing and filling out everything, then then a few minutes ago I realized I’d forgotten to call home and let my husband know that he should eat without me. So I was on my way back from my car to get my phone when there was this horrible noise and then a whole lot of squawking. Of course, I knew that the last thing you want to do around our animals is run away – they’re trained to chase and attack if you do – so I climbed up on one of the crates real fast. I think I twisted my ankle. We need help, fast.”
“Any questions questions for the lady terps?” Gordon asks
“Just to clarify ma’am, No one is actually hurt, aside from perhaps, maybe a twisted ankle. You are requesting Doc Wagon because your bracelet is your only method of communication to the outside and you are have emergency? Did you want us to call Lone Star or Knight Errant or maybe the dog pound?” Allan asks
“I’ve just gotten the feed for Mr. Barnsworth bio-monitor. It is showing some sort of toxin in the blood stream.” Interrupts Gordon
“Listen, there are fifty of these things loose in here, plus me and Mr. Barnsworth and some workers and the foreman. Most of the few people I can see are lying still on the floor – it looks like the cockatrii paralyzed them when they escaped. Besides me, there is only one other person up on the crates and he’s too far away for me to talk to. I have to be quiet or else I might startle them and a stampede is the last thing we need right now.”
“You’d better get here quick. When we get ready to ship these birds, they’re injected with a mild sedative to keep them calm. Makes them as tame as chickens. Except I think it’s starting to wear off. If they shake off the drug and see all these people lying around, I’m afraid they may start eating them. Oh and don’t hurt them when you get here; Parashield puts at least fifty thousand into training each of these things. They’ll probably hold you responsible for compensation if the cockatrii are hurt or killed, but I’d have to check with our legal department to know for sure…”
You’re drawing near the dock now, and you can hear gunshots coming from the far end. The shots don’t seem to be moving your way, but you’re a little worried about them nonetheless. A warehouse full of genetically engineered cockatrii and some unknown folks with guns…just another DocWagon HTR run. Good thing you can count on the Citymaster’s big guns.