The Mother Warrior
Page 15
When the train pulled into the station in Las Vegas, clan members worked together to unload the robo-carts, packed into large crates, as well as unloading the luggage-bots.
Everyone was tired from the long trip, but Stephen arranged for the clan to stay a couple of days at the resort he built outside the city, which he sold before moving to Cosala to help care for Emily. Everyone was delighted to relax at the beautiful resort. Even though it was late March, it was already warm enough to swim in the large pools.
While everyone else relaxed, swam, or sunbathed, Stephen, Sally, Emily and Brogan met in her room to discuss the next leg of the journey.
“From here on the journey could be tough,” Brogan stated matter-of-factly. She pulled up a map on the AI and showed it as a hologram on the wall of the room. The AI showed the preferred route, which took them north east to Salt Lake City.
“Why don’t we just go directly north?” Stephen asked as he looked at the map. “It would be faster, wouldn’t it?”
The AI spoke, “To go directly north would take you through very inhospitable desert, where there is very little water. The recommended route will keep you on the west edge of the Rocky Mountains where there is apt to be more water and game available this time of year, as well as wild plants and berries. It will be much safer and therefore the more logical route.”
“Oh,” Stephen replied. “I did not know. That definitely makes sense.”
“So, once we reach Salt Lake City, then what?” Emily asked.
“Let’s call the rest of the group together in about an hour so they can be in on the discussion. I’m sure they want to hear this, too,” Brogan concluded. “How about a group meeting at 8 pm?”
Stephen arranged for the clan to use one of the large conference rooms. At 8 pm, the members began to trickle in. One of the newly formed security team checked the room for any listening devices.
Using a throat mike, Brogan opened the meeting by asking the AI to talk about the first leg of the journey to Salt Lake City.
Flashing a hologram map in the air, the AI spoke. “The robo-carts travel an average speed of 50 miles per hour. It will take an estimated eight hours to travel the 421.8 miles from Las Vegas to Salt Lake City. It is 164.8 miles from Salt Lake City to the old city of Pocatello, or approximately another three hours’ drive. Once you arrive in Pocatello, you will convert the robo-carts to amphibious vehicles and travel on the Snake River north to the Columbia River. Be aware the Snake River contains a lot of rapids so there may be times when you will need to convert the robo-carts back to land vehicles to circumvent the dangerous rapids.”
Brogan interrupted the AI. “We will need to allow rest periods during the trip to Salt Lake City, too. Even though we will be close to the Rocky Mountains, the climate may still be hot most of the time. We must allow cool down time for everyone and not overheat the robo-carts. We also do not know what types of terrain we will run into which might delay our travels.
“I recommend we travel at a reasonable rate of speed to allow everyone to keep up. The robo-carts hold five to ten people each, plus we have another five robo-carts to carry luggage, food and water supplies for the journey. And, there are 10 small, more maneuverable robo-carts for scouts to use.
“Another thing we need to be aware of, is that this type of caravan is bound to grab attention. I would like to propose, therefore, that we travel at night as much as we can. Hopefully, during the day we can find places to hide out and rest and allow the solar panels on the robo-carts to recharge. Most of the country we will be going through is barren, with little population, so we shouldn’t have any problem. Any questions?”
“What about protection or security?” Emily asked.
“Good question,” Stephen answered. “We have a group of 50 former White Warriors traveling with us, who are now part of the clan. They will be our security forces from now on. They are all armed and will take turns scouting ahead, looking for the best routes, potential problems, and then acting as security when we are camped.”
There were raised eyebrows at the information. Brogan had purposely not mentioned how many former White Warriors had chosen to join the clan. Not only did she not want it to have a negative impact on the morale of the Book Liberators in Mexico City, but she felt it was better to not mention it until the group was well on their way to Oregon. She hoped they would not need to use their lethal force, but neither did she want clan members to be defenseless.
She could see some of the members with small children visibly relax at the realization there were trained soldiers in the group.
Two of the members, an entomologist and a botanist, talked to the group about insects and plants to be wary of during their travels. The AI flashed holograms of the various insects and plants as they were mentioned. Brogan asked the AI if it had anything else to add to the warnings.
“Rattlesnakes are also prevalent. They were also in Mexico so some of you may already be familiar with them.”
Brogan added that anti-venom and a wide range of insect repellents were included in the medical robo-cart.
“It’s getting late,” she told the group. “Why don’t you all turn in now. I want to get an early start in the morning. Be ready to leave by 6 am.”
As the group left the conference room, she asked Stephen, Sally and Emily to remain, along with the 50 White Warriors.
After everyone else was gone, she took a deep breath and said, “I didn’t want to say this in front of the rest of the clan, but I am concerned we might run into larger problems than what were mentioned by the AI. I understand since the area we will be traveling in has been basically unpopulated since the war, wildlife has greatly increased. And that includes some very large animals, like bears and mountain lions, plus coyotes and other animals.
“We will be traveling through some areas where some of them may be waking up from their winter hibernation, which means they are going to be very hungry and we will look like easy meals if we are not careful.
“Fortunately, most of the time everyone will be protected inside the robo-carts, but when we set up camp or when we stop for breaks is when we will be the most vulnerable.
“I have also heard rumors there are bands of hobos who are quick to rob unguarded travelers. Any suggestions on how to protect the camp?”
Jose Hernandez, one of the White Warriors, spoke up. “Mother, I have a suggestion.”
“Yes, what is it, Jose.”
“I brought some laser fencing with me, thinking we might need it when we got to Oregon. It is easy to set up. I suggest we establish the fence perimeter whenever we set up camp. We will just need to let all the clan members know so they don’t accidently run into the fence. That won’t take care of the security problems when we stop for breaks, though.”
“Great idea, Jose, and amazing foresight on your part.”
She turned to Stephen. “Since you oversee security, is it okay with you if we put Jose in charge of setting up the laser fencing whenever we set up camp?”
“Sounds perfect. You are hereby in charge of perimeter security, Jose,” Stephen said with a grin.
“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
“Stephen, how do you think we should handle the potential animal or hobo threats whenever we stop for breaks?” Brogan asked.
“Any suggestions from the White Warriors?” Stephen asked.
One of the very large, muscled men spoke up, “Sir, how about we stage Warriors every 50 to 100 feet around the caravan when we are traveling and when we stop? Kind of like a moving security fence.”
“You are Tom Douglass, right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, Tom, you just got yourself a job. You oversee organizing the White Warriors into that moving security fence. Figure out a way to do that by scheduling enough warriors in each of the 10 robo-carts we were going to use for scouts. They are faster and are ideal for security work. They can also act as scouts for us, right Brogan?”
“Perfect,” Brog
an responded. “You are to be armed at all times, with your White Warrior armor always on, unless you are off duty of course.”
She turned to Stephen. “Before we leave tomorrow, let’s see if we can’t put identifying stripes or marks on the security vehicles, okay?”
“Great idea. I suspect the desert travel will raise a lot of dust, so something neon might be helpful. I’ll see what I can find.”
When Brogan finally tumbled into her bed, close to midnight, it was difficult to shut her mind down as she went through the mental list of everything, wanting to be sure she hadn’t forgotten anything: enough water and food to take 150 people across the desert, plenty of ammunition for the White Warriors, enough medical supplies, etc. She finally fell asleep while mentally checking off items on her list.
Chapter Thirty-One
A Heroic Effort
Professor Schneider couldn’t remember the last time he had a full night’s sleep. He and his team of technicians frantically raced to develop the prototype of an outer dome to protect most Mexico City residents from a possible aerial attack of sarin bombs. They were close to solutions that worked.
The professor wearily stretched and leaned back in this body-molding chair, away from the model sitting on his lab table. The miniature dome was ready for testing. It was the eighteenth model; all the rest had failed for various reasons. Some weren’t airtight enough; others were too airtight, and others weren’t strong enough to support the weight of the defensive military hardware the general insisted had to be mounted on top of the dome.
“Can we test it now?” his eager lab assistant, Archer Finlay asked.
The professor forgave his eagerness. He was young, though brilliant. Archer was a refugee from the Chicago Province and the professor discovered him in one of the mathematics classes he taught in the refugee camp near where the new dome shell was going up. He had one of those rare minds with the ability to immediately grasp complicated mathematical equations and solve puzzles in his head.
When he realized how intelligent the fifteen-year-old was, he immediately asked his single mother if he could bring him into the lab to work with him. The amount he paid Archer per week was more than his mother, Alice, made in a month. His father had been killed by troopers during a food riot when Archer was only four-years-old.
Like the professor, Archer was not very tall; only about 5’6” with a slender build from his early years of near-starvation in Chicago. His hair was coal black and a mass of curls; his eyes a brilliant blue, a stark contrast to his black hair.
The more he worked with the young man, the more the professor realized the tremendous intellectual potential Archer had.
“I think we are ready, Archer. Why don’t you get the testing room ready? Be sure the bombardment cannon has shells in it and the gas canister is filled. While you are doing that, I will attach everything to the model.”
Without saying a word, Archer ran off to make sure everything was ready while the professor meticulously attached sensors and cameras inside and out of the model. The tests would show whether the dome could withstand bombardment from bombs, if the gas leaked inside the dome and if there was enough oxygen inside the dome for people to survive and for how long.
When everything was ready, the professor let the rest of the lab techs know they were ready for another test. Everyone had worked so hard on the project; he wanted them to see the results of their efforts.
As the series of twenty tests began, there was complete silence in the room as everyone watched outside the sealed, glass windows, keeping their eyes on the various monitors showing results of the tests. As the tests progressed and everything continued to show positive results, it felt like there was a collective holding of breaths as they waited for the final test. When the final test was also positive, a cheer went up from everyone in the room. Grins, shouts of joy and a lot of high-fives for the professor completed the celebration.
“Okay, okay,” the professor said with a false scowl. “Just because it worked on the prototype model, doesn’t mean it will work on the real thing.” He paused for a moment.
“But you all did some really great work here.” His wrinkled face, surrounded with a halo of white hair, broke into a huge grin. “Thank you to each one.”
And the cheering started again. After it died down, he reminded them of the need for secrecy.
“I can’t emphasize enough how important it is each of us keep secret what we have done here. We do not want word getting back to the despotic queen and king we have this kind of defensive weapon ready for them. Okay?”
There were murmurs of agreement.
“And, by the way, you all get the rest of the day off; with pay of course.”
Shouts of “Thanks, professor,” filled the room as they eagerly pushed their way out of the room. Only Archer stayed behind.
“What are you still doing here, young man? Shouldn’t you go home to your mother?”
“Nah,” he replied. “She’s working today. Besides, I’d rather be here working with you on something anyways. It’s too boring at home. So, what’s the next project? Are you going to finish up on the gamma ray weapon thing now?”
“How did you know about that?”
Archer shrugged. “I saw some plans laying around one day and figured out that’s what you were working on. It sounds awesome. Are you hoping to use that on top of the dome for a defensive weapon? What can I do to help?”
“Whoa. Slow down. I’ve barely started to work on it. The mathematics, physics and engineering issues are complicated. I’ve been so busy working on the dome I have not have time to do anything more on it. Brogan needed the AI pod for her journey, too, so I’ve been just a bit busy.”
“Hey, I get it, Prof. But now that the dome works, and the AI pod is done, what do you need me to do?”
“First, I have to go tell General Juan the prototype worked so we can begin production of the dome skin. Then, I must get some rest. In the meantime, the sketches and preliminary work I did on the gamma ray weapon are over there in that cabinet.” He pointed to a locked cabinet against the north wall.
“It only opens with my DNA, but if you want to get started, while I’m meeting with the general, I’ll let you take a quick look at it. When I get back, it needs to go back into the cabinet. Agreed?”
“Yes, sir.” Archer replied. His eyes were bright with eagerness.
Despite his weariness, the professor had a bit of a spring in his step as he made the trip to the general’s office. It felt great to finally have some good news.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Spies in Their Midst
Mac took off at first light in Papa Marco’s synergy-jet, headed for Portland, Oregon. The jet was a bit sluggish at take-off, but that was understandable, given how loaded down she was with cargo.
Professor Schneider sat in the co-pilot seat, white-knuckled, his eyes big behind his old-fashioned spectacles. Mac looked over at him as soon as the jet leveled off.
“How ya doin, Professor?”
He heard a loud gulp and a stammered reply.
“I..I..th..ii..nn..kk I’m okkkay. Jus…t give meee a minute.”
Mac couldn’t help but laugh. “Still glad you came?”
There was silence for a minute and then a gasp.
“Oh, my God. What an incredible view!” And that was all it took for the professor to completely forget about the trauma of flying.
“This is absolutely incredible. Thanks for letting me come with you.”
“Sure, little buddy. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the view.”
Within a few hours, they were circling high above the old runway at Hood River. But Mac never took a chance with his landings. He always engaged the sophisticated imaging system which allowed him to see exactly what the runway and surrounding area looked like. He didn’t want any surprises. As he examined the screen, he frowned. Something wasn’t right. Where were the rebels who were supposed to meet him and load the supplies on to the drones?
The professor could tell something was wrong by the frown on Mac’s face. “What’s going on, Mac?”
“Looks like we have bad company waiting for us. Somebody found out about our trip and notified the imperial troops. I need to call the general and see if he can get word to Brogan. And we are going to have to find another place to land.”
He pulled out his vid-phone and called General Vazquez. Within minutes the general responded.
“General, this is Mac. We have a problem. Somehow the empire’s troops found out about our arrival in Hood River. My screen shows a bunch of dead bodies near the hanger where we were supposed to land and a lot of troopers waiting for us. I’m going to have to find another place to land. And somebody better get word to Brogan. I’m guessing she has a spy in her midst.”
“I read you, Mac. Do you have another place you can set the plane down? And what about getting the supplies to Vista Point?”
“I’ll see if I can land at the Portland City Airport. It is not unusual for jets to come in and out of there, so one more should not raise any red flags. Get me a BL rebel contact in Portland and I’ll see if they can help me get the supplies to Vista Point. Problem is, Vista Point might be compromised, too, so I’ll need some rebel soldiers to go with me to check it out before the clan arrives.”
“Understood. Only a few people knew the specific location where Brogan was headed, not even everyone traveling with her, so maybe Vista Point wasn’t compromised; maybe it was just your location.”
“Let’s hope so, sir. You might want to check with Papa Marco to find out who else knew about my flight plan. In the meantime, the professor and I will see what we can do from this end to make sure things are clear for Brogan and the clan before they arrive.”