When the mighty treat with the magnificent

"I have a task for you, My Coyote" Her Ladyship came to me as i was sittin in tha Library, by tha fire. All she ever need do was ask. "Yes, Yer Ladyship, what do ya need?" She smiled, a flash of fang and a twinkle of an eye. "There is a document, a rather special document, that is in danger, and i wish for you to secure it for the Institute, GrrBrool." I nodded, awaiting further instruction. "When the British Empire encountered these people, it was at the height of its power. It was the mightiest force the world had known and one group of savages, on the far side of the planet, put up such a tenacious struggle, a treaty had to be struck. A copy of that treaty, is at risk of being lost."

She meant tha Maori, tha indig's of New Zealand. With wooden clubs and stone axes, they fought tha Red Coats and tha Royal Navy to a standstill, fought em so hard it was easier fer tha Poms ta shake their hand than try ta beat em down, like they had done ta every other culture they had ever ran inta, or since. They got a platoon of tribal leaders ta all agree ta terms, and they all signed. The signed with a representative, of tha Crown, ta share, on terms, tha land that tha Poms woulda just taken form anybody else.

Seems tha powers that be in Kiwi-land felt it was time ta do away with tha past, and purge some inconvenient records, like treaties they have had ta deal with fer a couple of hundred years. SO i packed some essentials, left some stuff behind, and took one of tha clandestine boats that Duckie gets in, off Tox, and to tha mainland. From there it was stowage-class, and undercover, pressurized cargo flights across tha Pacific, and eventually, ta Kiwi-land. Not comfortable way ta travel, but, beats bein snagged by tha government, any government, and handed back to tha 7RAR-L, in a cage or in a bucket.


I got into tha city, Wellington, little port town, hardly any toxic sludge or firefights in tha street, civil unrest though, looks like tha Maori population kinda objects to somethin tha Anglo run leadership is doin. Figures. Fleshies do this kinda thing all tha time, one tribe against another, even when tha original trouble was gone generations ago. Tha poor stay poor and tha rich get richer, usually its tha locals, tha ones who's land got taken over, that are still on tha bottom, and still pissed off about it. That and tha way that tha different tribes seem ta always settle out. This time, same as tha last time, tha Anglo's got tha tech, and tha Maori got tha balls. Good luck to them, again.


Not my problem, though, i was after a document, simple snatch and recovery. I found tha museum, it woulda been pretty impressive a couple of decades ago, but now it was old and shabby, not maintained well. Security on tha doors, cameras, some of tha glass frontage was walled up with steel plate to cover damage. I scoped it out for a while, tryin ta avoid bein picked off by either tha gangs or tha government dragoons, and planned my entry. I was gunna hit tha archives, tha briefin Her Ladyship had given me stated that it was under lock and key in tha basement, in a room i had tha number fer. So, insertion. I found a side that was sheltered, and in a service access only area, Changed inta my War-Form , and bounded up tha slopin wall, to tha roof. From there, i popped a lock, and slipped in, paddin my way through tha inners of tha place, till i made it to tha basement.

Didn't figure on guards, but. I mean, guards? in a Museum? who steals from a museum? Oh, well, apart from me . . . Just Fleshies, one skinny old dude, tha other some kinda fat young guy. I woulda thought they'd have some big hulkin Maori fellas or sheilas guardin it, with those awesome face-tats, but, nope, just those two. I came t them from tha side, after i scoped them out, and realised they weren't goin anywhere fast. One was leanin on a counter, tha fat one, sittin at a desk. Both smelt of coffee and bad food. Neither smelt of fear, they didn't know i was there, or didn't care. I'm guessin tha former. Didn't stop ta ask. I bounded in, and kicked tha old fella in tha back of tha knee. It kinda did that snap-crackle-pop thing old bones do, he made a noise, and then fell over, and passed out pretty fast, then his leg hit tha ground. Feel a bit bad about that, Fleshies don't heal too good, worse when they are old. Tha fat kid was just starin at me, and reachin fer tha tazer on his hip when i came over tha desk, all fur and fang, and flat-palmed him on tha forehead, off his chair, and popped him one to tha side of tha head. Out like a light too.

I searched em both, and checked their vitals, i even gave tha old fella a bit of Coyote's Light, and fixed up tha bones in his leg. Keys were tha prize though and i got them right smart, and off to tha store rooms. Fuck me, there were a lot of things in there, good thing i had a serial number, or i would never have found tha damn thing. There is was thought, Her Ladyship's intel was spot on. I popped the case, and took out tha document. It was in a plastic sheet, so i rolled it up, careful like, and slipped it inta tha hard plastic map-tube i'd brought, and piss-bolted outta there. Just in time too, on my way off tha roof, i saw a van, unmarked, but with spook-lookin goons roll up, and pop tha back doors of the place, looks like i got there just in time, or maybe that had made me, either way, i didn't stick around ta find out.

Back home tha same kinda way, in tha belly of big planes, and on tha smuggler-ships, but i made it, not a worry, and slipped back inta tha Library. I read tha treaty, or tried, its in wavy writin, and not proper English, old-talk, i guess, but its powerful stuff. When tha Might of the British Empire nodded its head to tha Magnificence of tha Warrior Nation of tha Maori. Now, its safe in Her Ladyships keepin, in tha Library, tha Institute. Where Sacred learnins aint burnt cause they aint popular no more.

Well done them. We're still gunna take em in tha rugby, but. This year . . .