Badlands Arc 3: Arrest of Sarah Dancing-Shaman

Sarah Dancing Shaman grunted inarticulately as she came back to consciousness. Her hand strayed to her forehead, feeling the sticky dampness that punctuated the throbbing that emanated from that point. Opening her eyes, she looked to her fingertips, now slicked black in the dim light, with what she presumed her own blood. She looked about the dim cell, its squat, squared features and Spartan decor. The one meter by three meter cell was barely large enough to hold a single person laying down, but it managed. A 'shelf' in the wall comprised the bed, a rude out-jut of stone that had no space beneath it; no place to hide contraband or ones self. A simple foam mat and a sheet for sleeping adorned the shelf-bed. Near the bed was a simple commode, a one-piece unit with no tank and no concessions to privacy. The only other feature of the room was the steel door that comprised the only exit from the room. The plain, but solidly built door looked like something you might find on a battleship, though lacking the round steering wheel-like locking-handle on the interior side. A small window in the door allowed those outside to look in, but as it latched from the outside, it did not return the favor. Sarah turned on her side, pausing only to combat the rising urge to vomit that came with the shift in position. Steadying herself with a hand on the cold stone wall, she came slowly to her feet. She started to stretch, determined to take control of her body, and then to take control of the situation. To master her fear. 'Fear.' She had often told her students at Winnemucca's small community college 'Drives smart people to make stupid decisions." She had been fearful when the officers from the Ministry of Self-Determination had come to her school and started interviewing her students. She had been fearful when the same thugs came to her home later in the day to interview her, but she had tried to remain calm. Many of the world speak about oppression, but in small-town Ute Nation, born some ten years after the founding of the Ute Nation, Sarah had never encountered it personally. At best, she had seen the signs of it while visiting the various Anglo Reservations that dotted the Ute landscape. She had very little reason to suspect what had happened. "Ms. Dancing Shaman." Asked Ministry Agent Miller as he sat on her couch, sipping her coffee from her best mugs. He and his partner had been so personable. "I read in your book…Ah I'm sorry, it escapes me… What was the title, Mr. Redman?" The other man smoothly flipped a pad of paper open. It was leather bound, the kind of pad you kept in a pocket for quick notes. Some may use digital assistants, but the Ministry liked the intimidation factor of the black pads. "'Squandered Gifts, A Study in Economic Distress'" answered Ministry Agent Harvey Redman blithely, reading from the pad. He slid the pad away, then reached for one of the sugared cookies that Sarah had put out, ever the polite hostess. "Yes, That's the one." Said Agent Miller. "I read in this book, the somewhat interesting proposition that the Ute Nation's historical economic well… We do not enjoy the economic prosperity that our cousins in the Native American Nations, or even the Oppressors. This is clearly the result of Anglo efforts to return us to a fallow slave state, subject to extermination. You have put forth the position that our economic woes are, as you say… Mr Redman, what was the quote?" Mr. Redmans pad came back to the fore as he read from it in a clipped, concise fashion. "It can only be surmised that the Ute Nation, a child-nation born of abusive parents, has embraced its fears without a rational discourse unfettered by ethnic rhetoric or entitlement. The tribal system of nepotism and distrust of outsiders cannot support a modern, robust nation. One must simply look to the Pueblo and Salish-Sidhe to see the truth of the matter. The very nature of the Pueblo Corporate Council is a national being that founds itself on the idea of creating a super tribe, rather than catering to the petty wants and demands of individual tribes. By avoiding the petty rights squabbles, the fracturing of the population through geographic and tribal lines, and a focus on the rule of Law over the arbitrary rule of a local Shaman, the Pueblo Corporate Council has vastly outstripped the Ute Nation in nearly every index. The Salish have prospered, despite taking a different tact with their national policy. Their governmental structure is not so different from the Ute Nation, but they have encouraged development of technology and education, while encouraging immigration and even allowing the creation of so called 'pink skin' tribes. These tribes of Anglos who are willing work within the bounds of the new Native Order, have provided an amazing resource of both talent and educated workers as the economy of the Salish peoples has roared to life. These ideas, both consistent and steady application of the rule of Law and a forward-thinking immigration policy, are required to run a modern nation. Is it any wonder, that lacking these things, our young who are lucky enough to finish school choose to migrate away from our ancestral lands and build lives, contribute to the success, of other nations? Until we address these issues, the Ute Nation shall always be a lesser partner in the Native American Nations." After the very long-winded reading of the quote, exactly as had been written in her book, Mr. Redman flipped his pad closed and slid it back in to the pocket of his coat. Mr. Miller smiled wolfishly, a smile that made Sarah, for the first time, very nervous. "It is an interesting supposition, that the Ute People should give up their Self-Determination for, what I would say at best, is avarice or at worst, the economic ramblings of a small-town Junior College history teacher. What do you think of that?" He asked, setting his coffee aside. Swallowing hard, Sarah smoothed the fabric of her flowing skirt then "Am I in trouble?" She flicked her eyes between the men. "I mean, I have a freedom to speech, my intellectual freedom, it's in our constitution." Both men chuckled quietly. It was Mr. Redman who spoke this time. "The freedom of speech protections specifically exclude speech or publishing that incites hatred, damages the public calm or is disrespectful of Mr. Howling Coyote." "But I've done none of that!" Protested Sarah, realizing now she was very much in trouble. Her hands now clenched, bringing wrinkles to the recently smoothed skirt. "Oh." Said Mr. Miller, picking up for his partner. "I disagree. You have incited with your words, a hatred for ourselves. How odd that a woman of your station, a Ute of otherwise good standing, should harbor such clear Anglo Sympathies that she would self-publish this short sighted self loathing. It's very sad, but we in the Ministry of Self-Determination see it far too often these days." She was silent now. She saw the way this was going, how this conversation played out. It was not that what she said was wrong. It was that what she said was counter to the official line. She looked down to the fabric bunched in her hands, releasing it and the slowly, carefully smoothing it back down. "If I am to be arrested… will you give me the moment to change my clothes? I'm hardly dressed for detention." It was a momentary pause, but Mr. Miller nodded. "Don't do anything stupid, Ms. Dancing Shaman. Don't worry. We'll be back soon, if all goes according well." Of course, it didn't go well. Pacing the small cell now, Sarah ran her hand over the door. Her eyes paused on the broken fingernails and the odd way her thumb jutted from the hand. She sighed, coming to sit back on the bed. This would not go well at all. While Mr. Miller may have dismissed her profession as a history teacher it armed her extremely well to know what was happening. It took this instant, this moment of revelation, to put together a thousand minor things. Rumors, redaction, papers that didn't make it to publications. Students who were transferred out, the news reports they saw on the trid, and perhaps more ominously what they did not. No. This would not go well at all for Sarah Dancing Shaman.