The Mother Warrior

by Marilyn Donnellan

  “Good. Keep me posted. Over and out.”

  The professor had been listening to the exchange and now asked Mac how he intended to land in Portland, since he hadn’t filed a flight plan for Portland.

  “Well, that’s going to be a job for this here little AI-pod,” he grinned, as he held up the pod. He talked to the pod. “Do your thing, Mr. AI. Can you get us authorized to land in Portland?”

  “Authorization to land at Portland International Airport in progress, sir.”

  Within a few minutes, the authorization popped up on the screen.

  “See…told ya, buddy. This little gadget can do just about anything. You did a phenomenal job programming it. I added a couple of programs for flying, just in case. Glad to see they work.”

  The AI adjusted the shipping documents for the cargo; they now showed a delivery destination of Gresham, a Portland suburb.

  As the jet taxied into a shipping hanger, the general called on the vid-phone.

  “Mac, it didn’t take much to find a spy implanted at Papa Marco’s airport in Tegucigalpa. He’s being interrogated as we speak. He apparently slipped in during the aftermath of the earthquake and was able to sneak a look at your flight plan. I’ll call you back as soon as I know more. Over and out.”

  The general abruptly hung up.

  The AI connected to a BL rebel cell in Portland, who arranged to meet them in the shipping hanger. BL communication symbols were used to convey the information to Mac, as well as how to recognize the rebels.

  Once the jet was safely inside the hanger and the huge doors were closed, armed guards surrounded the jet. Fortunately, they were all wearing the red scarves Mac had been told to look for.

  Mac opened the jet’s door and let the stairs down. “Stay put, professor, until I check them out,” he quietly said.

  “Howdy, folks. What’s up?” He surreptitiously gave a BL hand signal, which they responded to.

  “Good to be in friendly territory,” he said with a grin. “Any idea what happened at Hood River?”

  The apparent leader of the rebels, a muscular woman who approached Mac with her laser rifle slung across her chest, reached out her hand to shake Mac’s.

  “Welcome. I’m Sergeant Sheila Crum.” She motioned to the rest of the crew of about twenty-five. “These are the rest of the BL rebels who were able to respond to General Veracruz’s request for help in such short notice. Now, what’s this about Hood River?”

  “I appreciate your help. First, I want to introduce you to my partner. Professor come on out.”

  Mac watched the rebels as the white-haired, rather short and old-fashioned looking professor stepped out of the jet and down the steps. They didn’t say anything, but he grinned at the raised eyebrows.

  “Folks, I want you to meet the famous Professor Herbert Schneider. The professor is the one who has invented so many of the hand-dandy gadgets the rebels are using which will help us to defeat the king and queen.”

  A cheer went up from the rebels, and Mac was delighted to see the professor blush bright red. He didn’t get nearly enough recognition for his efforts, so he was glad to give him his few minutes of fame.

  “Back to Hood River.” Crum was all business again. “What happened there?”

  He pulled the rebel leader a side, so they would not be overheard by the rest of the rebels.

  “What I am about to tell you is top secret. Not something everyone needs to know. At least not all the details. We were supposed to unload our cargo there, but before landing I surveyed the airfield and could see bodies partially hidden near the hanger and some imperial troops waiting for us. I kinda thought it might be wise to land elsewhere,” he said with a grin.

  Crum snorted. “An understatement, I’m sure. What do you need from us and why?”

  “You’ve heard of Brogan Finlay-Douglass?”

  “The original White Warrior? Who hasn’t? What does she have to do with this?”

  “What you might not have heard is she is on her way to Oregon from Tegucigalpa, at the southern end of the Texas Province. She is bringing a bunch of people with her to set up a new type of rebel encampment; a kind of secret, underground peace movement to fight the empire. The professor and I are bringing in the first batch of supplies ahead of their arrival.”

  Mac kind of enjoyed the stunned look on the tough rebel’s face.

  “You are kidding me!”

  “Nope. The professor and I are supposed to check out the site, set up the first batch of supplies and head back to Tegucigalpa to get the next load of supplies. But after what I saw at Hood River, I need your help to make sure the chosen site has not been compromised.”

  “How do you intend to move the supplies from here to wherever you are going?”

  “Can you get me and the professor to Vista Point on the Columbia River, first?”

  “Sure, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

  “First things first, Crum. Let’s secure the plane and cargo. You got some place my little buddy and I can grab a bite to eat and maybe catch a few winks before we head out? We’re hungry and tired. It’s been a long flight.”

  “Follow me.”

  Crumb signaled to some of the rebels to set up a security perimeter inside and outside of the hanger and she took Mac and the professor in her robo-truck to a nearby hotel. It was owned by BL sympathizers who were glad to give them a couple of rooms and serve them hot meals.

  “I’ll be here early tomorrow so we can head east,” Crumb told them. “Do you need anything else?”

  “No, thanks,” Mac replied.

  The professor murmured his thanks, too. Before they went into the restaurant to eat, Mac called the general on the vid-phone to report in and see if he had been able to reach Brogan.

  “Unable to reach her,” the general reported. “You know how spotty the signals can be over long distances. We will hope her instincts keep her alert. The spy we interrogated told us there is another imperial spy planted in the clan. The spy has no other information, as near as we can tell. Hopefully, Brogan will be able to catch the spy in her midst before he or she is able to do any harm.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Terrifying Success

  Dr. Delis now knew how to make the sarin gas bombs. And his lab assistants knew, too. There were no excuses left. The day the last test succeeded, April 1st, the traditional April Fool’s Day, his dour lab assistant, James Percy, immediately sent a triumphant message to the king and queen before he could stop him.

  “How ironic,” Delis thought to himself, “We are all fools if we think this is somehow going to solve the BL rebel problem.”

  All he could do now was wait for instructions from the imperial majesties to tell him when and where the bombs were to be delivered. In the meantime, his brilliant mind struggled to figure out how to sabotage his own work to prevent millions of people from dying.

  He was exhausted. Since the faked death of his beloved Rachel, he spent most of his time at the lab, only emerging from the underground facility to spend a few fleeting hours with Andrew on the weekend.

  Andrew knew the ethical dilemma his father was wrestling with and had yet to receive any concrete suggestions from the BL rebels on how to stop the sarin gas bomb production. As an imperial trooper and a clandestine BL rebel, his life was a balancing act of subterfuge. He could be caught any day. If it weren’t for his father, he probably would have slipped away from the marines and escaped to join the rebels in Mexico City. He had extended his tour of duty beyond the required four years to continue his spying.

  Today he was on duty, guarding the imperial suite. He snapped to attention as the king briskly walked down the long hallway toward the entrance.

  Without a word, the two marines, saluted and then opened the huge doors. The king was claustrophobic and always wanted the doors left open when he was inside.

  Andrew overheard the queen object one day to leaving them open, but the king reminded her, “Two of my best marines are guarding the do
or. No one could get past them, so we have nothing to worry about. When I’m not here, you can shut the doors. Besides the laser gates prevents anyone from entering. Shut up about it. I don’t want to hear any more on the subject.”

  Apparently, the queen and king often forgot the marines could overhear their conversations or didn’t care. And, that was why the day his father completed the sarin gas bombs, he heard them discussing their plans.

  “At last, the bombs are ready to go!” Queen Jacqueline said gleefully.

  “It took Delis long enough,” King Jamil grumbled. “The jets are just about ready to go. They are modified to carry the sarin gas bombs. I tried to get the engineers to modify them even further by adding machine guns under the nose, like what we used for the Missouri Massacre, but they insist the configuration of the sarin gas bombs makes the jets too heavy if we add anything else to the body.

  “I did, however, get them to build half of the jets with machine gun turrets under them, instead of bomb bays.”

  “You are a genius, kingee!” the queen cooed. “So, when do we drop the bombs?”

  “Be patient, queenie,” the king snarled. “We have to fly the loaded jets to San Antonio first, refuel, and then to Mexico City for the bomb run. I’m thinking we set May 1st for our target date. How about we call it the ‘Spring Boom.’ Get it? Instead of, ‘Spring Bloom?’

  The queen groaned at the pun, and then laughed. “It is a stupid play on words. But I like it. Good job. May 1st it is for the final destruction of the Book Liberators! I’ll drink to that!”

  The king and queen sauntered over to their fully stocked bar and began to get very drunk, totally unaware that a BL rebel stood less than 50 feet away from them, seething with anger at their total lack of sympathy for the millions of people they planned to kill.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  A Hazardous Journey Becomes Lethal

  So far, the clan’s journey in the deserts of Nevada and Utah had been without major incidents; the occasional insect bites and sightings of rattlesnakes, but nothing the clan members could not handle. The relatively slow rate of travel allowed everyone to get to know each other better, too.

  They were within about fifty miles of Salt Lake City, according to the AI, and they had stopped for the night. Setting up camp had settled into a routine in which everyone participated. The specially modified robo-carts had fold-out overhangs on each side as camping pods. The pods could easily sleep five to seven. The laser fence provided a sense of security everyone seemed to appreciate.

  But this night, just as camp settled down, a piercing scream broke the quiet. It did not take long to discover a distraught young woman standing over a security guard behind one of the robo-carts. His throat was cut from ear to ear. It was Jose Hernandez, head of the laser fence security.

  Brogan recognized the young woman as Jose’s sister, Lupe. She put her arm around the sobbing woman, just as Stephen ran up.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Stephen, this is Lupe, Jose’s sister. She just found her brother. Looks like he has been murdered.”

  She saw Sally, Stephen’s wife, on the edge of crowd now gathering. The camp doctor, Loren Polk, came running up. Immediately Brogan took charge of the situation.

  “Sally, could you please take Lupe back to your campsite? Doctor Polk, she might need a sedative, but you might want to look at Jose first. Stephen, please get some of the security guards to move the crowd away from here so the doctor can work. Oh, and bring some light for him, so he can see better, too.”

  Brogan pulled out her AI and instructed it to take pictures of the body and crime scene. Later, she knew her mind and body would react to what she was seeing but right now she had to stay calm. There was a murderer within their camp and he or she had to be stopped before more people died.

  After the doctor had completed his examination and Jose’s body had been taken away, Brogan attempted to reach the general on her vid-phone. But apparently, they were too far removed from any towers to get a signal.

  Why would someone murder Jose? Why now? With questions swirling around in her mind, Brogan was finally headed back to her campsite when she suddenly stopped. What if they had an imperial spy in the camp? Was this just the beginning of someone’s attempt to stop the clan from reaching their destination? Or was this an attempt to stop the clan completely?

  The murder had to be someone Jose knew. He was a White Warrior and knew how to defend himself. How could they figure out who would do such a terrible thing? Until they found out who it was, everyone in the clan was in danger.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  A Race to Save Their World

  General Veracruz was pleased to see Mac and Professor Schneider back safely from their trip to Oregon. They reported the BL rebels were a big help in transporting the supplies to Vista Point. During the debrief, Mac said the rebels captured one of the imperial marines at Hood River and found out the spy the general interrogated only knew they were arriving in Hood River and nothing else.

  “That’s exactly what our interrogation of the spy here revealed,” the general confirmed. “The spy is now sitting in jail with his tongue cut out. Guess he won’t be talking again.

  “Tell me what Vista Point is like. Is it going to be a livable spot for the clan?”

  “Quite impressive actually,” the professor responded. “There is a huge warren of caves under and behind the lookout point over the magnificent Columbia River. You would never know it. The point itself is quite small, but the caves go south for probably a mile, so it should be more than adequate. Several of the caves already have thousands of books in them.

  “According to the rebels, a hundred years ago it was quite the tourist spot so there is running water and the copper pipes are in excellent shape. I think it was an excellent choice by Brogan and it will be able to easily support several hundred clan members. It is a beautiful spot; well protected and easy to defend.”

  “Glad to hear it. What did you think, Mac?”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Mac replied. “It isn’t too far from Portland if they need to get other supplies. We did not have any problem using the drones to fly in the supplies. I will use the same process for the next run. By the way, you heard anything from Brogan yet?”

  “No. I’ve tried to reach her several times, but nothing is getting through.”

  “Okay, I’m going to get that last load of supplies delivered so I can try and catch up with them as quickly as possible. She needs to know she might have a spy in her midst.”

  “I have no doubt she will either figure it out, or will be able to handle it,” the general said grimly. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t find out the hard way.

  “In the meantime, professor, I’ve received word from a rebel spy near the king and queen, that the sarin gas bombs are ready to go. They have set May 1st for the bomb drop. They will refuel the jets in San Antonio first. I’m hoping we might be able to destroy them there before they can take off. But, I know your team has been hard at work finishing up the dome covering, and the gamma ray guns are in production, just in case we are unable to stop them in San Antonio. Can we be ready by then?”

  “We will be ready, general. Now, if you will excuse me. I have work to do.”

  “Me, too, general, sir,” Mac interjected. “I have another load to deliver and then I’ll be on my way to get to Brogan as fast as I can.”

  Without another word the diminutive professor and the big pilot raced off to do what they could to save the world.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Hunting a Murderer

  Brogan invited only her most trusted advisors to the early morning meeting in her campsite. White Warriors were stationed in a perimeter outside her pod, far enough away so even they could not hear what was discussed. For added protection, the AI projected a security halo around the group as they talked.

  Grim-faced, the group looked expectantly up at her from where they sat on portable chairs, including Steph
en, Sally, Emily and Dr. Polk.

  “I’m curious, Brogan,” Stephen asked, “Why are there no White Warriors attending?”

  “Good question, Stephen,” Brogan quietly answered. “I am thinking the murderer is a White Warrior. It had to be. No one else could have snuck up behind Jose, an experienced rebel soldier.”

  “Did Jose have a girlfriend?” Emily innocently asked.

  “I don’t know. Does anyone know?”

  The group looked at each other.

  “Stephen, why don’t you ask around and see what you can find out. I hadn’t thought of that. Emily, it looks like what I’ve been teaching you on this journey about thinking like a spy is paying off. Good thinking.” Brogan smiled at her daughter.

  “Anyone have anything else to contribute?”

  Doctor Polk spoke up.

  “Mother, while I was examining Jose during the autopsy, I found a long blond hair on his uniform. I put it in the portable DNA analyzer and I have a genetic analysis. All I need now is a DNA from someone with blond hair to compare it with.”

  “I did not realize you brought an analyzer with you. How fortunate for us. How unfortunate for the killer.”

  Brogan looked at the group. “Don’t mention this to anyone. If we find out Jose was seeing someone, and she happens to have blond hair, I don’t want her to know we have a DNA analyzer. Everyone clear on their jobs? Stephen and Emily, you will casually ask around about Jose’s relationships. If he was seeing someone, that might shoot my White Warrior murderer theory; I hope it does.

  “Doctor, will you please prepare the body for cremation? We will have a service tomorrow, if that will work for everyone.

  “Sally, could you organize a memorial service? Ask around for those who knew Jose best and might be willing to say a few words of memorial.