After about an hour of free ranging discussion on the subject, Brogan asked for a decision.
“Madam chairperson,” General Veracruz said, “I make a motion Brogan be sent as our envoy to Canada to ask for their support with arms and troops in the fight against Emperor Priest.”
“Do I hear a second to the motion?” Brogan asked
A second was heard and she called for the vote; it was unanimous in support of the motion. If she had been allowed to vote, hers would have been the only dissenting vote. After the vote, she stood for a moment before the council, meeting in their regular spot, the mess hall for the rebels.
“I may not agree, but I will accede to your wishes. I will send a message to Marco tonight and head that direction tomorrow.”
The meeting adjourned, and Brogan slumped in her chair. She could feel a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see her father-in-law, Stephen. Her beloved partner, Bryan, had been murdered by the emperor’s former consort, Sandra Bernhardt. He was one of the early martyrs in their fight to save printed books and restore their freedoms to read, write and worship as they pleased.
She raised her eyebrows in question.
“Honey, I know this is not what you want, but everyone in this fight must be willing to go anywhere and do anything to make the most use of our limited resources. And you are a resource we cannot afford to lose in the upcoming battle. You are the most articulate and intelligent woman I know. Council believes you are the best person for this job. If you can’t convince those stubborn Canadians to help us, nobody can.”
Brogan grinned and stood up to hug the man who was a second father to her.
“Thanks, Stephen. I know you and the council are right, but my heart wants me to stay here to support our troops.”
“I know, sweetheart, but this is the burden of leadership. Leave the grunt work to us, okay?”
She laughed. “Since when is fighting grunt work for you? It is what you love to do and why you are such a great trainer of the newbie rebels.”
His sheepish grin said it all. He hugged her back and without another word, turned and headed back to the training area where he did his best work. She started toward the communications room when she had a brilliant thought. But first she needed to run it by Max. Her long legs took her to the work-out area where she knew he would be.
As she approached the large barracks converted to weight room and karate training area, she saw it was filled with White Warriors, getting themselves fine-tuned for the upcoming battle. The elite branch of soldiers was formed after she returned from her fighting in the Chicago Province. The rumors of her prowess as a warrior preceded her and became the foundation of the unit.
Sure enough, she saw Max yelling at some muscled soldiers sparring with each other, most of whom outweighed him by at least 50 pounds, including some female rebels.
“What’s wrong with you? You can do better than that. Block his kick. Come on Sandra, just because he’s bigger than you don’t mean you shouldn’t attack. Don’t wait for him to attack. Offense is better than defense any day.”
Brogan saw a tiny figure, dwarfed by everyone else in the room, dancing around her opponent. It was Sandra Bernhardt. Suddenly, and without any hint of what she intended to do, she ran straight at a soldier, running up his big chest, flipping backwards off him and easily knocking his feet out from under him. The poor man laid there in surprise; outdone by a 90- pound woman. He would never hear the end of it.
Everyone who saw what she did started applauding and cheering. Sandra grinned and reached over to help her opponent up. He promptly flipped her over his head but instead of landing on her back, she landed on her feet, twisted around impossibly fast and landed on top of him again, this time knocking the air out of him. Even Brogan cheered for Sandra. She would make a great White Warrior. But Brogan needed her for something else right now. She walked up to Max and said something in his ear.
“What?” he asked with his head tilted toward her, struggling to hear over the cheers. “What did you say?”
“I need to talk to you for a minute.”
“Sure, give me a minute to get these knuckleheads back to work.”
He turned back to the warriors and hollered for them to quit horsing around and “get crackin!”
He walked over to where Brogan sat on an old-fashioned metal chair pushed up against the barrack’s wall. He plopped down on a chair next to her, pulled out a towel from his back pocket and mopped his brow. The late June air was hot and humid, with no air conditioning in the barracks.
“Okay, what’s up, boss?”
“First, I’m not your boss. And you can’t seem to get it through your thick skull, no matter how many times I tell you, can you?”
“Nope. You’re the boss whether you want to be or not. So, what can I do for you, boss?”
Brogan sighed at what had become a never ending, losing battle of words with Max about her status and got to the point of why she wanted to talk to him. “I need to go to Canada to get their support for our cause. You attended council meeting, so you know what they said. I have no choice. But, I’m thinking about taking Sandra with me. What do you think?”
“I don’t know, boss. You sure you can trust her after what she did? She has proven to be a talented and lethal fighter and I can see her on the battlefield. But why chance taking her with you?”
Brogan leaned her head against the wall behind her and contemplated the best way to explain her reasoning. “Marco said in his note he thinks the reason why the Canadians haven’t been willing to consider providing aid is because he and Allison do not have first-hand knowledge and experience with Priest and his soldiers. Who better to go with me than the Priest’s former consort?”
Max sat silently for a moment. “Okay, I understand your reasoning, but without a tongue, how can she talk to them?”
Sandra Bernhardt lost her tongue as punishment for her part in the betrayal of the council several years earlier, resulting in the deaths of two council members, Bryan and Janice, and the imprisonment of Brogan and Allison. No one knew Sandra was being abused by the emperor while his consort. After her escape from the emperor, she tried to anonymously sneak in and join the White Warriors to atone for her betrayal. When she was discovered, she willingly paid the same penalty as anyone else who betrayed the Book Liberators: the loss of her tongue. Now she was training to be a White Warrior.
“Come on, Max. Haven’t you noticed how expressive she is? Her facial expressions and pantomimes are a second language to her. And just about everyone can understand her. Anytime she has trouble communicating something she writes it down. She is a perfect example of the impact of the emperor’s policies on our citizens.”
Max stood up and looked down at Brogan. “You’ve convinced me. Now you just gotta convince her and the general. I know she has her heart set on participating in her first battle as a White Warrior. Now you want to take that away from her? I certainly do not want to be the one to tell her. Good luck with that.”
As Sandra headed toward the showers to clean up after her skirmish, Brogan caught up with her. “Sandra, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Sandra looked up at Brogan, her expressive face saying, “Sure, what about?” She had been a renowned actor and an expert in disguises and forgeries before her short-lived time as consort.
“Let’s get something to drink,” Brogan said. “You clean up and I’ll meet you at the canteen in 30 minutes. Enough time?”
Sandra nodded and continued toward the showers. Exactly 30 minutes later, they sat at a corner table in the canteen. Because of Sandra’s responsibility for her beloved Bryan’s death, Brogan doubted if she could ever move past it enough to see Sandra as a friend. But she had to make the effort to at least accept her. Brogan knew Sandra well enough to know she liked an ice-cold beer after her workout, the only time she ever drank, and only one beer. So, two cold beers now sat on the table. They each took several swallows of their beers before Sandra looked at her with a qu
estion mark in her eyes, her eyebrows raised.
“You did a great job out there putting the big soldier down. You are very talented. And I know you are looking forward to the battle in two days.” Sandra nodded with a grin.
Brogan paused and swallowed more of her beer. “But here’s the thing. I need you for something else. Marco and Allison sent me a message, asking me to go to Canada to try and talk them into supporting our cause. They have been trying for three years to convince Canadian politicians and gotten nowhere. They seem to think I might have a better chance of convincing them. The council agrees. I want you to go with me.”
Sandra sat totally still as her mind processed what Brogan asked her to do. She gestured over to the soldiers and pantomimed herself walking toward them.
“I know, Sandra, you want to go with them to the battle. You’ve trained very hard to be accepted as part of the White Warriors unit. I understand that. But, frankly, I think you can do a lot more for us by going to Canada with me. You know Priest better than anybody.”
Sandra’s face fell, and she opened her mouth and pointed to where her tongue used to be, raising her shoulders in a questioning gesture.
“You are wondering why I want you to go when you cannot talk, but we’ve been carrying on a conversation just fine without you saying a word. You are still a brilliant actor. You easily convey emotions with your body language. I’m hoping your story is exactly what we need to convince the Canadians of the importance of what we are trying to do, as well as the continued loss of our freedoms if we don’t stop Priest.
“Will you go with me? I won’t order you to go, but I really need you. It will help, too, to have another White Warrior traveling with me in case we run into soldiers.”
Brogan held up her hand as Sandra started to convey a response.
“No, don’t give me your answer yet. I need to run it by the general first. If it’s okay with him, I’ll be in my room at 2200 hours, packing. If you decide you’ll go with me, just bring a valise with you, packed with only toiletries and we’ll leave by 2300 on our cycles. Oh, and wear your White Warrior uniform. We will intimidate the socks off those Canadian politicians,” she said with a grin. She headed to the general’s office to get his okay to take Sandra along.
General Veracruz agreed with Brogan’s reasoning. She returned to her room and found another message from Marco telling her where and when the Canadian submarine was scheduled to land to pick her up for the trip to Canada. Cheeky guy. He figured she would come and already planned everything.
Just before midnight, Brogan saw Sandra waiting in the motorcycle shed. Without comment, only nods, they revved up their bikes and headed toward Chicago Province. They had some hard riding ahead of them to make the rendezvous point in just three days. The 1,400-mile trip would not be easy, but the future of the rebel cause might depend on it.
The grueling trip to Chicago was dangerous, especially this time of year because of the unpredictable weather, let alone the high probability of running into imperial soldiers along the way. Before they were out of Texas Province, they were forced to find shelter under an old highway overpass as a half-mile wide tornado swept across the road a mile in front of them. Although they knew an overpass shelter was not the best idea for shelter, they had no choice. The area they traveled through in northeast Texas was totally flat, with no other place to shelter.
Two days later they arrived with a few hours to spare at the rendezvous point, near the abandoned Anton estate north of Chicago City, belonging to Marco’s parents. It saddened Brogan to see the devastation to the estate caused by the battle where Brogan, as the White Warrior, made her first appearance. It had been a wonderful haven for her and Allison after escaping from prison. Hopefully, after the war was over, Marco’s parents could return and restore it. It would be a shame if they didn’t.
They saw no evidence of the enemy anywhere near the estate. In fact, the area for miles around seemed totally deserted. They scrounged some fresh food from the synthesizer in the kitchen of the mansion, which surprisingly enough still worked. Sandra’s gestures to Brogan conveyed her appreciation for what the mansion must have looked like before the attack. Unfortunately, Maria’s incredible greenhouse was destroyed. Marco’s mother had turned the greenhouse into a tropical paradise. Apparently, a mortar blew out the glass on the north side, leaving the exotic plants to die in the cold.
Based on their calculations and input from their augmented face masks, they still had another hour to wait for the submarine. They wandered out to the stables: empty. She hoped neighbors removed the horses; they could not have survived the harsh winter outside. As midnight approached and time for the rendezvous with the Canadians neared, Brogan did her best to prepare Sandra for what she would see.
“I don’t know if you ever saw a picture of a submarine, but it is kind of like a giant sausage which can submerge and move under water. I hope you are not claustrophobic, since it will be pretty tight quarters inside.”
Sandra indicated with a shrug she was sure she would be okay. They stashed their cycles inside the barn where Brogan found her own cycle after the fight with the soldiers three years earlier. Entrance to the barn was still keyed to her DNA. Fortunately, the antique cars and motorcycles were protected and showed no signs of vandalism. If any caretakers looked inside the barn, they might not even notice two cycles among dozens parked inside the huge structure housing a wide range of modern and antique vehicles.
They walked down to the pier and switched their faceplates down to look for signs of the sub. Suddenly and silently, a large black shape slowly surfaced a short way away from the pier and moved smoothly to the structure. The hatch opened, and a black-clad figure emerged and silently threw the rope ladder down the side of the tower. The two women scrambled up the ladder. As soon as they were safely inside the submarine, the hatch closed. At the bottom of the ladder on the inside, Brogan turned and saw a familiar face.
“Lieutenant Geoffrey isn’t it?” she inquired.
“Why yes, ma’am it is. Nice of you to remember.”
“Lieutenant, I’m Brogan Douglass and this is Sandra Bernhardt. I don’t know if Marco told you there were two of us. I hope it is not a problem.”
“No problem, ma’am. If you don’t mind bunking together in tight quarters.”
“Not at all, lieutenant.”
Sandra grabbed Brogan’s arm as the sub begin to move. She looked up at Brogan with a questioning expression.
“We are on the move, Sandra. By the way, lieutenant, Sandra is mute, so she communicates with gestures and written notes.”
The stoic expression on the lieutenant’s face never changed. “Yes, ma’am. Now if you will follow me to the bridge, I believe the captain wants a word with you.”
He turned, and they followed him down the narrow hallway. They arrived on the bridge and Brogan was delighted to see the captain was the same one from her previous short journey.
“It’s good to see you again, Captain. We greatly appreciate your picking us up.”
“No problem Ms. Douglass. Welcome aboard. I guess a lot has happened since we first met. My government is most anxious to talk to you, apparently.”
“Please call me Brogan and this is Sandra Bernhardt. Sandra, Captain Margaret Shoemaker. As I told the lieutenant, Sandra is mute but is an expert communicator anyway. Captain, we’ll get out of your way. I know you probably have things to do to get this ship underway. Any chance we can find a bite to eat? It’s been a while.”
“Lieutenant show these soldiers to the mess hall. I’m confident Master Seaman Mike can rustle something up for you, even if he grumbles a bit to begin with.”
The lieutenant gave a smart salute to the captain and indicated they follow him. The captain was right. Initially, Mike grumbled at the lieutenant for waking him up. But when he walked into the mess hall, tying his apron around his ample waist, and saw two beautiful women he brightened up considerably.
“What can I do for you, ladies?” He as
ked with as much of a bow his bulging stomach would allow.
“Whatever is laying around we can munch on, Master Seaman, we would greatly appreciate it. I’m Brogan and this is Sandra. It has been a while since we ate anything other than protein bars. We’ve been on the road for almost four days.”
Within a few minutes, the cook put together some fresh sandwiches and fruit with the help of a steward by the name of Bruce. Neither of them remembered the last time they ate fresh, not processed, fruit so they thoroughly enjoyed their meal. The lieutenant remained at the door of the mess hall, waiting for them to complete their meal. Mike watched them with delight, obviously curious at Sandra’s way of eating. Without her tongue, it took Sandra longer to eat since she had to cut everything into tiny bites. In between mouthfuls, Brogan asked the cook if he remembered having Marco and Allison on board about three years earlier. His eyes lit up.
“Of course, I remember them! The captain performed their marriage ceremony and we had a whale of a party afterwards. What a delightful couple! How are they doing?”
“As far as we know, they are doing fine, Master Seaman.”
“Hey, none of the formality. Just call me Mike.”
“Okay, Mike. Last we heard, they are still in the Toronto area. And that’s where we are headed.”
“Well, if you see them, tell them Mike says ‘hello’.” I haven’t had a chance to decorate another cake since I did theirs. I’d ask you why you are going to Toronto, but I’m sure it’s none of my business. Now, anything else I can get for you?”
“No, thanks, the food is great, Mike. Thanks so much.”
Mike looked over at Sandra curiously. “You don’t say much do you? Kind of unusual for a woman, isn’t it?” He asked with a grin.
Brogan laughed. “Ordinarily you would be right, Mike, but Sandra is mute. She can’t talk, but you’ll find she is able to communicate just fine.”
The Slave Warrior Page 3