The Mother Warrior

by Marilyn Donnellan

  The AI evaluated the background and skills of the applicants, comparing them to a must-have list. Now, as she reviewed the list one last time, she was pleased to see virtually every needed skill was covered.

  Marco’s parents had been very generous in helping to fund the expedition, as had other BL rebels who supported what she was trying to do but who were either too old or because of family issues were unable to go along.

  Brogan looked up from the AI pod when she heard Emily walk into the room at the Antonio’s hacienda which had been turned into a planning room. Supplies were tucked into every corner, with hardly room to walk.

  Emily’s emerald eyes glittered from excitement. “Are we really leaving tomorrow?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. Are you ready?”

  “Absolutely. I can’t wait to get started. I know you are sending some of the supplies ahead of us using Marco Senior’s synergy-jet like a cargo plane. Mac is flying it, right? I would love to be able to be on that plane.”

  “I know you would, but Mac needs all the space for supplies.”

  “What time are we leaving?”

  “I want to get an early start, so I told everyone to be ready to leave at 5 am. We will take a train from here to San Antonio, but we will have to play it by ear after that. So much of the rail system in the Texas Province has been damaged, we just don’t know how far we can get by train.”

  Emily skipped out of the room to finish packing.

  Brogan sent scouts ahead during the winter months who reported train tracks in disrepair from San Antonio to Salt Lake City, suggesting they might need to find other means of transportation.

  Nervously, she looked again at the AI pod, asking it for alternative transportation suggestions from San Antonio north. The portable robo carts the professor designed would probably be their primary transportation, at least until they arrived at the Snake River in Idaho.

  Initially, Brogan was concerned about crossing the Rocky Mountains, but the professor assured her if the weather was good, the solar powered vehicles would work fine. But then the AI proved its worth when it recommended instead of going across the Rockies, they go around them at the southern end, so the journey would be easier.

  Once they reached the Snake River, the old dividing line between the states of Idaho and Oregon, they would convert the portable robo carts to amphibious vehicles to take them to the mighty Columbia River and on to their destination.

  Brogan was deep in thought, checking to make sure she had forgotten nothing, when a familiar voice could be heard talking to Papa Marco and headed her direction. She couldn’t help it, she started to smile. She had come to depend on Mac so much in the last year.

  She looked up as his presence filled the room. She could see Papa Marco busily headed to his office.

  “Howdy, boss! How are things going?”

  “Hello, Mac. Great. I think everything is ready. Is the jet ready? When are you leaving? Who is going with you?”

  “Jet is ready. I’m going to head out at first light tomorrow. Think I’ll take the professor with me.”

  “Really? I thought he was afraid of flying.”

  “He is, but he figured this was the only chance he might ever have for a plane ride. Besides, he wanted to see for himself where we were going to be making our new home. Even though he isn’t going to be part of the clan, he thought he would like to see the location.”

  “Sounds like something he would do,” she said with a soft smile. “Even if I’m sure he is terrified; he’ll make himself get on that plane.”

  “We will land at an old airstrip outside of Hood River. I’ve contacted some BL rebels in the area who will help unload the supplies and put them on to drones to send to the site. The professor and I will spend the night at the site, make sure everything is set up and head back the next morning. I’ll catch the next train out from Portland to San Antonio and hopefully catch up with you somewhere along the route.”

  “Perfect.” She walked up to Mac and took one of his huge hands. “You just be careful, okay?”

  “Will do, boss. Just another adventure. Been kinda dull around here. ‘Bout time we had some excitement.”

  She playfully hit him on his arm. “I’m serious. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

  She looked up at him, both suddenly serious. Her heart started beating faster at what she thought she could see in his blue eyes. But she turned away before either of them said something they might regret.

  Brogan cleared her throat and got busy straightening some storage pods. She heard Mac leave. She quickly moved her thoughts toward tomorrow’s events. As she did, she was reminded of the charter of sorts she and a few of the leaders of the clan had drafted during the past month. Their unanimous vision and mission had crystalized, and it came easily now, to her mind: “for all American citizens to be free to read, write and worship as they please, and to explore and develop new methods and strategies for peace.”

  After they finalized the statement, everyone going on the expedition was asked to sign it. The signed document was uploaded to the AI pod, with a copy rolled up into a tube and ready to be displayed in their new location for everyone to see.

  She did not know when or how it started, but everyone except Mac, now called her, “Mother Warrior.” She was the original White Warrior and struggled for ten years as a Slave Warrior in the bayou. But she knew she had even more to live up to with this new title. Brogan felt like she had not been a very good or present mother for her daughter. To be regarded as a mother for this group of people who were giving up everything to go with her to start a new life, it was beyond incredible; it was humbling.

  She smiled to herself as she realized the “mother” title might be less honorary and more because she was the oldest female in the newly formed clan.

  She again looked at the AI pod and realized it was getting late. Marco and Marie were hosting a farewell dinner for the 150 folks going on the expedition. She needed to get ready for it. Tomorrow was going to be a big day; the first steps on their journey toward a peaceful resolution of the rebel war.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  An Unhappy Queen and a Necessary Death

  “What do you mean the sarin gas bombs won’t be ready until Fall? I’m beginning to suspect you are deliberately delaying the project.”

  The queen narrowed her eyes at Doctor Delis, who stood trembling before her. She surprised him by walking into his lab one morning in early March. She was dressed in a tight, black jumpsuit, trimmed in red.

  Delis, like any man would, noticed how well it hugged her curves, but the scowl on her face, and the long, bright red finger nails caused him to quickly forget the curves and remind him of her cruelty.

  He swallowed hard. “I am so sorry, your majesty, but the ingredients we use in making the sarin are very unstable and don’t last long. Just when we think we have a batch ready, something seems to happen in the process to mess it up.”

  “I’m tired of excuses. I want answers and I want them sooner, rather than later.” She paused a moment in what he was afraid would become a tirade.

  A cunning look appeared on her face and her voice suddenly became deadly calm. “You are married, as I recall. Right? And don’t you have a son?”

  He was sure his heart stopped for a moment. “Yes, your majesty.” He kept his eyes lowered so she could not see the terror in his eyes and the anger simmering behind them.

  “I’m sure you would not want anything to happen to them. So why don’t you see if you can work just a little bit harder on getting the job done.”

  She started to walk away and then walked up to him and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off his feet. Her strength from the exoskeletal implant was astonishing.

  “And if I don’t see results within the next month, I will visit with your wife and son. And I don’t think you want me to do that. Is that understood?”

  Delis felt himself starting to black out as the queen squeezed hard one last tim
e and then dropped him. Not waiting for an answer, she walked out of his lab. He gasped for breath and rubbed his neck as he slowly got to his feet. He looked around. Everyone else in the lab wisely refused to look at him.

  The lab was located inside a large, underground and secret facility several miles north of Boston City in an isolated area. The people working on the project were implanted with special T-chips and were not allowed to leave the grounds. When they were recruited for the project, each person was carefully vetted and not told until they moved on to the base that the T-chips included a poison capsule which would be automatically triggered to kill them the minute they stepped off the base.

  As head of the project, Doctor Delis was the only one who did not have the implanted poison capsule and could leave to make reports to the king and queen or to test the bombs. But he was no less a prisoner than everyone else hidden inside the facility. With regular threats against his family, like the one delivered just now from the queen, he too was a prisoner of their whims.

  He had to figure out a way to move his wife and son to safety and then he would be better able to sabotage the king and queen’s efforts to build the sarin gas bombs. So far, he had managed to delay production, but it was only a matter of time before someone else on the project figured out what he was doing. There was little time left. He had a weekend pass to visit his family. He was afraid it might be his last opportunity to save their lives. He just wished he knew what to do. He felt so powerless.

  When he finished the day’s work, he went through the security gauntlet and took a robo-taxi to the tiny apartment near the base. He wearily opened the door.

  “Rachel,” he called. “I’m home, Sweetheart.”

  When there was no response, his heart immediately started beating rapidly. They had been so careful. They knew their apartment was probably monitored by the imperial spy network.

  Rachel always seemed to anticipate his arrival, greeting him with a cup of hot coffee or a glass of wine. Today was different. There was no sign of her.

  He quickly moved through the three small rooms. She wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room areas. He opened the door to the bedroom and found her on their bed. At first, he thought she was sleeping. He gently sat on the side of the bed and touched her. She was cold; her face pale.

  “No!” he screamed. “Rachel!”

  Trembling, he tried to feel for a pulse, but was shaking so hard he could not tell. He laid his head on her chest to see if he could hear a heartbeat. Nothing.

  In a fog, he heard the front door open. He felt a hand on his shoulder and then heard a whisper in his ear. “She isn’t really dead, Father, only in a deep coma.”

  It was Andrew. Before he could say anything, Andrew put his hand over his mouth, indicating he needed to keep silent. Gently, he raised his father to his feet and turned him to face him. He then led him to the kitchen and sat him down. Andrew pulled out a piece of paper and started writing.

  “I am a member of the Book Liberators. They are helping us. They gave Mother a drug that slowed her heart rate down to make it appear she has died, but she is alive. They gave me a number to call when you got here. We are to act like she has died. They will take her away to a safe place.”

  Delis looked up at his son in bewilderment. When had he become a man? The relief he felt was palatable. He grabbed Andrew and gave him a hug as tears ran down his face. “Thank-you,” he whispered in his ear.

  Andrew nodded and used his vid-phone to call the number the BL rebels gave him. Within a short time, they arrived in a county morgue’s robo-van. In a grief-stricken voice, Delis verbally recorded the details of Rachel’s birth and other vital statistics. The attendants recorded the date of death, removed the T-chip from her hand and zipped her into a body bag. Andrew and his father managed to shed tears and frequently sobbed loudly for the benefit of any recording devices in the room.

  “We are sorry for your loss,” one of the attendants said quietly. “Near as we can tell, she died from a heart attack. From her medical records, she has a history of heart problems, but chose to not have a heart transplant, is that correct?” Delis nodded. “You need to speak up, sir, for the record.”

  “Yes,” he replied, his voice trembling.

  “Then, per county protocol, there will be no autopsy and your wife’s body will be cremated; the ashes given to you for burial at a place of your choosing.”

  The same attendant slipped Andrew a note, which he later showed his father was assurance she would be relocated and revived in a secure safe house. For her protection and theirs, they would not know where she was until it was safe for everyone. An urn with ashes from a fireplace would be given to them to continue the charade. The note was torn to pieces and dissolved in the recycle bin.

  The father and son nodded thanks to the undercover BL rebels and started the difficult process of notifying family and friends of Rachel’s unexpected death. Delis used his vid-phone to notify the king and queen of his wife’s death and asked for a few days off to mourn her. Andrew was able to get some leave from his duties, too. They had to go through the motions of grieving, even though they knew Rachel was alive and in a safe house.

  Although he greatly missed seeing his wife every day, he had to force himself to act depressed and defeated. Such a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, now that he knew Rachel was safe. He was still worried about Andrew but seeing how well he handled himself during this crisis, and knowing he had the support of the rebels gave him hope they might survive whatever the queen and king threw at them.

  After a week of mourning, Delis returned to the lab. His fellow scientists offered him condolences. He mumbled his thanks and told them he just wanted to lose himself in his work.

  Now, if he could just figure out a way to make it look like he had completed the job but still cause the gas to be non-lethal.

  Chapter Thirty

  Traveling to A New Life

  The journey had been difficult at times, but Professor Schneider’s AI had been invaluable in the day to day decision making when problems arose as the clan members traveled to Oregon.

  Tegucigalpa to Las Vegas was done mostly by train. There were frequent stops, due to problems with the rails, but the passengers all pitched in to help with repairs. The approximately 3,000-mile trip should have taken only about 13 hours, since ordinarily the train would be traveling at 220 mph. But with all the damage on the rails, the trip took almost a week.

  By traveling around the southern tip of the Rocky Mountains, the AI postulated the trip would be less hazardous for everyone than it would have been trying to cross the mountains in Colorado.

  Members of the clan traveling north included Brogan, Emily, Stephen and his new wife, Sally and 145 other people. Mac would travel separately. Brogan was surprised when Stephen and Sally decided to join the clan, especially after Stephen’s anger when she decided to stop being a White Warrior.

  “After Sally and I talked it over,” he explained to her, “I realized this is exactly what Bryan would have wanted. He hated violence of any kind. So, I’m going to support what you are doing. Maybe Sally and I can be of help in organizing the members of the clan in some way.”

  Brogan was touched by Stephen’s reasons and immediately appointed the two of them to oversee the defense strategies at the new location.

  “Just because we intend to develop peaceful means of defeating the king and queen, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t know how to defend ourselves against attack,” Brogan explained when she asked them to take on the job.

  Stephen would oversee training everyone in defense strategies and Sally would take care of all the administrative operations. She was highly organized, in contrast to Stephen, and it would take a tremendous load away from Brogan.

  Brogan was initially disappointed Allison and Marco chose not to join the clan, but she understood. The twins were so young, now only three years old, and Marco’s parents needed them.

  “Maybe when the kids get older, we’ll join
you,” Marco said wistfully, “But right now, we are needed here.”

  Big Mac would return the synergy jet to Marco, Sr. after unloading all the supplies, which would take a couple of trips, and then make the trip by train and robo-cart back to Oregon, traveling by himself.

  The rest of the clan members ranged in age from singles in their twenties to couples in their forties and fifties. There were even a few families with small children. Good physical fitness was a requirement for acceptance into the clan, as well as a specific skill or knowledge to support the clan.

  “We will be basically on our own,” she told the members during an orientation session. “That means you need to be able to contribute a skill that will allow us to be totally self-sufficient.”

  The selection process resulted in a wide range of talented and skilled individuals: engineers, construction workers, architects, botanists, farmers, educators, health-care professionals, ex-military, mental health workers, and a lot of entrepreneurs. There were even some folks with various faith backgrounds, librarians, writers, artists, musicians and philosophers.

  Brogan thought a lot about the governance structure of the clan and decided, once they arrived in Oregon, to let the clan members establish their own governance. She was sure there would be some lively debate on the subject. She knew, from her studies and from the information on the AI, other issues to be determined would include things like law enforcement, health care, infrastructure issues, an economic system, an education system, incorporating new members, and so much more.

  Sometimes she felt overwhelmed at everything needing to be done, but mostly she was excited at what they were attempting.

  Because the clan members were instructed to spread out on the train and do little to interact with each other during this phase of the trip, they had no trouble with any imperial troops. In fact, they did not see a single trooper during the trip.