The Slave Warrior

by Marilyn Donnellan

  Before they left the sub, Sandra used the make-up kit she always carried with her to change their looks and give their faces beard shadows. They shaved their hair off, bound their breasts, and put on men’s temperature-adjusting jumpsuits to appear less feminine. Sandra even had some special drops to put into their eyes to change their color. They certainly looked nothing like the holos frequently shown on the vids as violent BL rebels. They put their collapsible helmets and guns into their backpacks and made sure the jumpsuits totally covered their white body armor.

  Lights began to go off in the city as dawn broke. The smell of breakfast wafting from nearby homes and cafes made their stomachs grumble at the same time.

  They grinned at each other and agreed without words to opt for an early breakfast. A nearby hologram map of the dome showed a café in the next block. A protein rich breakfast of turkey sausage, eggs and old-fashioned pancakes quickly disappeared, followed by some mocha-rich coffee. Famished, they attempted no conversation, verbal or written, until they finished. With full stomachs, they could now talk. Brogan looked around to make sure no one sat within hearing distance and learned forward.

  “Well, Sandra, what do you think? Do you want to find someplace to sleep, or shall we keep moving?”

  Sandra thought for a minute, shrugged and motioned with her fingers as though walking.

  “I agree. Let’s see how far we can travel through the city today. We can look for evidence of a BL cell and find better and faster transportation to Boston.”

  Sandra nodded. Brogan started to pay cash for breakfast, just as a news flash popped up on the vid-screen overhead. The gaunt face of the emperor appeared, flanked by two very large cyborg units.

  Attention citizens of the American Empire. This is your emperor speaking. I have not been idle in developing ways to protect you against the criminal Book Liberator rebels. I will continue to lead our glorious victories against the rebel scum, as I did in Austin City. Within a few short weeks an elite battalion of cyborg units will begin searching for and destroying rebel bases. By the end of the year, I will also use nuclear weapons against them unless they surrender. Any citizen who reveals the location of Book Liberator cells or the location of book stashes will be richly rewarded. Victory to the empire!

  The vid-screen went black and total silence filled the café. Ramifications of the announcement penetrated everyone’s brain, followed by confused but subdued conversations. With shaking hands, Brogan paid for breakfast and the two warriors quietly moved out to the street.

  Finding a deserted bench, they sat down and looked at each other. No words necessary. What did it mean? Did it change their mission or simply complicate it? Would assassinating Priest make a difference? How do you disarm or destroy cyborg units? Brogan asked herself. She had no experience with them. She turned to Sandra.

  “Do you know anything about these cyborg units, Sandra?”

  Sandra nodded, her face still white from the shock of what they heard. She and Priest had been close, but he was also very abusive. Brogan wished Sandra could tell her what she thought.

  “Do you still think we should assassinate Priest?”

  Sandra nodded again, even more emphatically.

  “Okay, can you tell me anything about these cyborg units?”

  Sandra paused before she started writing. Brogan looked down at the notepad as she wrote, now used to the short phrases she used.

  “Priest developed two for bodyguards. Told me if good, develop entire army. Part human. Research lab in basement where made two in vid. Built from prisoners. More machine than human. Made me want to throw up. When I realized Priest a psycho.”

  Brogan sat back on the bench, her head against a brick wall behind her. “Any idea how they are controlled or shut down?”

  Sandra shook her head. Her pencil did not move while she considered Brogan’s question. She started writing again. “Know how to get to site under pyramid. Figure out way to destroy.” She paused for a moment and bent over the notepad to write some more.

  “Only place bombs could be built Pilgrim Nuclear Generating Station, south Boston. 40 miles away. Heard Priest talk about. Might have material for building bomb. Everything else destroyed after war.”

  “Brilliant information!” Brogan stood up in excitement. “Now we just need to travel to Boston as soon as possible. We also need to send messages to Mouse and to General Veracruz. They have no idea where we are or what we are going to do. Our next task is to find a vid-phone we can use and send messages to them both. Agreed?”

  She looked down at Sandra, who nodded her head. She grabbed Brogan’s arm and forced her to sit back down while she started writing again.

  “Maybe split up in Boston? Know how to get in pyramid. If find explosives, I destroy cyborg area. Assassinate Priest. You lead rebels to Plymouth. Blow plant up.”

  Brogan sat silently for another moment. “Makes a lot of sense. I’ll convey your ideas to Mouse and General Veracruz. Mouse can help you inside the pyramid. You are right. We’ll need explosives, too.”

  She stood back up. “Okay. We’re in agreement, right?”

  Sandra nodded and stood up, too. She shifted her back pack and joined Brogan, already striding down the street, Sandra’s shorter legs struggling to keep up. Brogan looked for a hologram to show the closest railroad station. If they found a BL rebel cell, they could probably find the help they needed. They walked a couple of blocks to a hologram near a transport tube. The women looked carefully and saw at least three potential rail stations outside the dome, possible locations for BL notices in code.

  They exited the dome and within an hour they located the first rail station. While Brogan kept an eye out for soldiers, Sandra looked for BL codes on the building. Finding none, they walked to the next rail station another hour’s walk away from the dome. Success.

  Surreptitiously, Sandra wrote a message on the building indicating they needed help. They looked around before drafting the message and identified a small park just a block away. They chose it as a rendezvous point, not saying in the message how many of them needed help. Brogan would be the lookout for protection; Sandra’s black jumpsuit and backpack the only identifiers in the message.

  Sandra sat on a park bench, her backpack prominently displayed, while Brogan hid among the trees watching. It would probably take several hours before the message could be read. On the way to the park they picked up some food to munch on while they waited. Almost exactly seven hours after they left the message at the rail station, as it was starting to get dark, an elderly woman walked up to Sandra and gave a BL hand signal. Sandra responded in kind and pulled out her notepad, writing down she was mute. The woman nodded and waited for her to write something. Brogan stayed hidden, watching for any sign of danger. Just when she thought the coast was clear, a trooper sauntered up to the two women on the bench.

  Although too far away to hear the conversation, when the trooper roughly grabbed Sandra’s arm and started to pull his laser gun, Brogan sprinted forward. The elderly woman, obviously in disguise, suddenly moved very fast and tried to grab Sandra’s other arm. But Sandra, too fast for them, flipped herself backwards over the bench and adroitly kicked the trooper in the head as she spun. He hit the ground, out like a light. The woman pulled a laser pistol out of her purse. But before she could fire, Brogan ran up behind her and hit her in the head with a small tree branch, knocking her out cold.

  “Well,” Brogan said as she panted from the exertion, “That was fun. Now, let’s get out of here. There might be more of them around. Apparently, BL code has been compromised in Buffalo. We need to let the other cells know.”

  The two warriors gagged and tied up the unconscious false rebel and trooper and moved them into the woods. Fortunately, there did not appear to be any security cameras in the area. They quickly sprinted through trees in the park but walked sedately out the other side. The black jumpsuit was now recognizable, so Sandra quickly stripped down to her white body armor, topping it with a colored vest
. She made a few quick adjustments on her backpack and it became a cross-body bag. Brogan wore a neutral jumpsuit, so she did not need to make any changes.

  Dark now, the safest and quickest way to get out of town might be to use their forged T-chips and travel by train. They still did not have a vid-phone, so they decided to wait until they arrived in Boston to call the general. They boarded the train on the east side of Buffalo, after recording a coded BL warning on the train station wall. They settled into their seats, taking turns dozing for the six-hour trip.

  About an hour outside of Boston, as Brogan gazed out the window, she happened to see in the reflection a trooper at the other end of the train car heading their way. She nudged Sandra, who instantly awakened. She whispered to her they needed to move. The trooper busily checked identifications of other passengers, so the two women quietly moved to the back of the car and out the door to the next rail car, lest they be recognized.

  Brogan whispered to Sandra to make her way to the very last car and slip off the car as it slowed down approaching Boston. Sandra nodded. They quickly made their way through four cars and flattened themselves against the back of the car, hanging on to the ladder to the transport tube below, the wind whistling around them. Just as their grip began loosening, the train started to slow. Before the train stopped completely, the women dropped on to the roof of the transport tube and scampered down the ladder to the freight yard below.

  “Hey!” they heard someone yelling as they hit the ground, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  The zing of a laser rifle whistled past Brogan’s head. They ducked around the rail station. The women soon outran their lone pursuer, losing him among the winding streets of old Boston.

  Sandra tugged on Brogan’s sleeve, indicating she knew the direction to go. Within a couple of hours, she led her to the apartment inside the dome where she hid after escaping from Priest. She still had the T-chip which allowed her to enter the building and she used a security code to get into the apartment. Once safely inside the apartment they collapsed.

  “That was close,” Brogan grinned. She looked around the spartan apartment. “Is this where you hid after you escaped from Priest?”

  Sandra nodded and pointed to the food synthesizer, raising her eyebrows in question.

  “Yeah, I’m hungry. Whatcha got? A filet mignon, maybe?”

  Sandra grinned and punched in a couple of tofu burgers while Brogan shed her back pack and wandered around the tiny apartment, although there wasn’t much to see. A table, a couple of overturned chairs, a lot of dust, and an uncomfortable looking couch, the only furniture. Apparently, Sandra knew what it meant to live on the cheap. Although she’d been a fugitive herself all her adult life, she wondered what it must be like for Sandra. When she left Priest, she lost not only her ability to speak, but her fame and career as an actor.

  As Brogan stared out of the tiny window above the kitchen sink, she realized she felt a grudging and growing admiration for this woman now becoming a friend. Although she missed Bryan every day, it amazed her she was finding it easier each day to forgive, Sandra, the person responsible for his death. He was the love of her life and she doubted she could ever love anyone the way she loved him. For just a moment, the ache in her heart threatened to overwhelm her, but she tromped it down and turned from the window.

  The ding from the food synthesizer and smell of food were enough to move her toward the small table set against the wall where Sandra was putting out some napkins and condiments.

  “Smells good,” Brogan said with a smile as she sat two chairs upright at the table before sitting down. “Not exactly filet mignon, but it’ll do.”

  Sandra began cutting her food into the tiny pieces necessary for her to swallow. Not having a tongue made eating ordinary solid food a daily ordeal. But Brogan noticed Sandra never gave any indication of frustration or anger at the situation. She seemed to accept it and deal with it without complaint. Not being able to talk has its advantages, apparently.

  “You don’t happen to have a vid-phone available, Sandra?”

  Shaking her head, Sandra pulled out her notepad and started writing.

  “Someone stole. But know where to contact BL cell leader.”

  “Great! But let’s wait until morning and see if we can catch a few hours of sleep. You sleep on the couch. I’m too big for it, so I’ll just stretch out on the floor.”

  Sandra started to object, but she was too late. Brogan pulled her solar blanket out of her backpack and laid it on the floor, stretching out her lean body on it and using her backpack as a pillow. She closed her eyes and seemed to fall asleep in just seconds. Cleaning up remains of their dinner into the recycle bin, Sandra looked at her solar watch and realized it was 4 o’clock in the morning. Suddenly very tired, she managed to slow-walk to the cot, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the lumpy pillow.

  By the position of the sun shining in her eyes as she awakened, Brogan guessed it was probably noon. It felt good to get a good night’s sleep. She stretched and looked over at the cot. Sandra was gone. Brogan’s first reaction was mistrust. Where had she gone? But then she heard a noise from the tiny bathroom. Disgusted with herself, she wondered if she would ever get over an automatic mistrust of Sandra. She had proven herself trustworthy repeatedly.

  She realized she was the one with the problem. Every time she thought she had forgiven Sandra and trusted her, she reacted negatively like this. Maybe she would always have a sliver of doubt because of what she did, betraying the council and causing the deaths of Bryan and Janice.

  Sandra walked out of the bathroom, dwarfed by a large bath towel she wore wrapped around her. Brogan considered how incongruous her petite appearance to the fierceness of her battle skills.

  “Okay, my turn to clean up. Did you sleep okay?” Brogan asked.

  Sandra nodded while continuing to dry herself and get dressed.

  “I’m going to take a quick shower and then let’s see if we can connect with your BL friends and make plans to kick some Priestly butt.”

  While Brogan showered, Sandra made them a simple breakfast of yogurt and granola, about the only ingredients left in the synthesizer. If in Boston for any length of time, she needed to do some shopping.

  After a quick breakfast, the women put their male disguises back on and walked outside. The entrance to the apartment was in a back alley along the dome wall; perfect for surreptitious comings and goings. The neighborhood seemed to be on the lower end of the income scale with buildings crammed together. Graffiti covered walls. Sewers backed up on several streets, creating an almost overwhelming odor of poverty and neglect. The few people they met on the streets refused to look them in the eyes, either because they were much better dressed than everyone they saw, or because they walked with a confidence which clearly said, “Don’t mess with us.”

  They walked about six blocks in an easterly direction. Sandra suddenly made a sharp turn down an alley and knocked quietly on a door at the end of the alley, using some type of code. The door cracked open. After a moment of hesitation, a voice asked, “Who is it? And what do you want? No entrance without a password.”

  Brogan gruffly gave a password Sandra had written down, hoping it was still valid. The door opened slowly. As they entered the room, they saw a group of about fifteen people, all heavily armed, and all guns trained on them. They slowly raised their arms. Sandra carefully pulled out her pad and wrote out a greeting. The apparent leader of the group, a scruffy-looking man peered at the note and looked more closely at her.

  “Well I’ll be. Come on, guys! You remember Beverly, don’t you? She’s a friend. Put your guns down. Beverly, tell us where you’ve been and why you are disguised like a man.”

  Sandra looked over at Brogan and gestured for her to talk.

  “Folks, I might look like a man, but my name is actually Brogan Finlay-Douglass.”

  Before she said another word, an immediate clamor of voices arose with everyone talking at once. Obviously, her name
meant something to the group. A nudge from Sandra and she decided to keep talking.

  “I gather from your reaction you know who I am. And, I guess it means you are committed Book Liberators.”

  A subdued cheer went up from the group. Evidently, they tried to avoid being heard outside the room. Brogan held up her hands for quiet.

  “And you know the person beside me as Beverly.” She looked over at Sandra, who nodded. She seemed to know exactly what Brogan intended to say next.

  “But her real name is Sandra Bernhardt, former consort of the despot and false emperor Priest.”

  Shocked silence and threatening murmurs followed her words. Again, Brogan held up her hands for quiet.

  “What you don’t know is Priest severely abused her. When you knew her, she had just escaped from his clutches and hid from him near here. You accepted her, for which she and I are forever grateful. She eventually made her way to Laredo where she joined our rebel alliance and became a White Warrior.

  “Because of her past crimes, however, the rebel alliance believed she still needed to be punished and so she agreed to have her tongue cut out; that’s why she is not talking to you herself. She’s now a mute.”

  Another round of shocked silence.

  “Since then, Sandra has proven to me and her fellow members of the rebel alliance, she is a committed member of our alliance and can be totally trusted.”

  Brogan looked over at Sandra and saw tears in her eyes. She realized it was probably the first-time Sandra heard any rebel say she was trusted. It undoubtedly meant a lot to her. She felt guilty because she had been so wrapped up in her own hurt she ignored what Sandra was going through. She reached over and squeezed Sandra's hand and turned back to the BL cell members.

  “But we aren’t here because Sandra wanted to tell you what happened to her, we are here because we need your help. I’m sure you heard the last vid-cast from Priest about the cyborg warrior army he is developing and his plans to develop nuclear warheads. Sandra and I plan to stop him. And that’s where you come in.”