“In person, Mac, just in disguise. Pick your chin up off the floor and let’s get this bucket of bolts going. We have a country to save from the threat of nuclear war.”
“Yes, sir!” Mac said as he saluted, turned around and quickly programed the van to drive them to the nuclear plant. With a jerk, slamming Brogan against the seat, the van drove off through the streets of Boston at top speed.
“Hey, slow this thing down before you get us both killed! At least give the gel seat time to grab my butt to hold me in place, why don’t you?”
Mac turned around and looked at her with the grin back in place, “Whatever you say, Ma’am, or do you prefer “Sir?”
Brogan grinned back at him as she clicked the seat belt into place. “You can call me Brogan, Mac. So, tell me. How did you get involved with Book Liberators? And I’m assuming from the looks of the cargo behind me you are the explosives expert?”
“Yes, I’m the one who loves to blow things up, especially if they happen to be connected to the enemy.”
His voice lost its jovial tone as he continued. “I joined BL rebels a few years after Priest destroyed a small town north of here because he thought they were harboring rebels. Turns out no rebels, but he didn’t care. My wife and son were in our house when his soldiers blew it and the rest of the town to smithereens. I was in Boston at the time, working as an aide to one of the members of the House of Lords.”
His big shoulders shrugged in dismissal and straightened. “So, I decided to join the rebels and give the enemy a taste of their own medicine. I studied everything I could find about explosives and have, shall we say, made things a mite uncomfortable for his majesty’s soldiers periodically.”
Brogan laughed at the satire of his statement. Then, in a more somber tone said, “I’m sorry for your loss. I lost my husband in a clash with soldiers, but at least I still have my little girl.”
“I’m happy for you,” Mac said over his shoulder. “Now, to business at hand. Tell me more. The only thing I know is we are headed to the old nuclear plant to blow something up.”
“Apparently, our psychotic emperor has decided he wants to build nuclear weapons and he thinks the old Pilgrim Nuclear Generating Station has what he needs to begin the process. I’ve been instructed to keep him from doing so. I have no idea what we’ll find, or how to go about doing it. I’m not even sure what happens if you blow up this type of a nuclear plant. Does it spread nuclear waste or not?”
“A great question. One above my pay grade,” Mac replied. They sat in silence in the van for a few miles as they considered their situation.
“Do you know any more about what we are getting into?” he asked.
“Yeah, we are going to meet with a nuclear physicist by the name of Dr. Herbert Schneider. We need to look and act like his research assistants. Any idea how we can make it happen?”
“Sure,” Mac replied. “The van has a multitude of disguises hidden in it. Let’s pull over once we are outside of Boston and I’ll show you what I mean.”
About an hour later, Mac directed the robo-van to pull over behind an old abandoned gas station. Brogan was surprised to see the AJ Sweeps logos on the sides of the van were magnetic. Mac pulled the signs off, rummaged around in the truck and pulled out official looking signs for Abbott Labs. But it wasn’t the only trick up his sleeves. He showed her how to easily remove the logos from her jumpsuit and cap and replace them with Abbott Labs logos. Brogan switched the caps to the Abbott Labs one.
“Don’t you find it ironic,” Brogan asked, “in an empire where reading and writing are basically banned, logos are still written?”
Mac grinned. “Yeah, typical bureaucrats can’t get anything right.”
“By the way, I told Claudette to tell Herbert I’m Doctor Finnish and you’re my assistant, Mr. Kaboosh.”
“Almost sounds like, kaboom, doesn’t it,” he laughed, “And you certainly plan to finish Priest’s project. I love it! It’s so silly they won’t figure it out.”
They discussed strategies, realizing they needed to play it by ear upon their arrival at the plant. A lot depended on what Schneider had in mind. They soon arrived at the gates of the nuclear station. Mac assumed the controls of the van and drove cautiously up to the open gate. A robo-car with the imperial crest on it sat in front with a very large cyborg standing beside it. As they drove up, the cyborg opened the door of the robo-car and a short, diminutive man wearing old-fashioned eye glasses and a rumpled tunic uniform stepped out of the car.
“Dr. Finnish, I presume?” he said in a very quiet voice.
“Yes, and this is my assistant, Mr. Kaboosh,” Brogan replied. “It is a delight to meet you, Dr. Schneider. I remember hearing about one of your theories on nuclear energy on a vid-show during a physics class at University of Texas Dallas. Brilliant, I must say.”
The night before their meeting, Claudette inserted background bios for Dr. Finnish and Mr. Kaboosh on the web, just in case the cyborg checked them out.
“Why thank you, Dr. Finnish. Now, what do you say we get right to work? Our esteemed emperor has made it quite clear what he wants done and we are short of time. I’ve already been through the plant, so I have a general idea of what needs to be done to begin setting up the process. Did you bring the material with you I requested?”
“Absolutely, Dr. Schneider. Mr. Kaboosh, please drive the van to the section of the plant Dr. Schneider indicates.”
Before they moved, the cyborg rudely pushed them out of the way, walked up to the van and opened the back of the van to inspect it. Brogan arched an eyebrow at Mac to see if there was a problem. He subtly shook his head.
“Why barrels lined with lead?” the cyborg asked suspiciously.
“That’s to protect anyone within a hundred yards of getting lead poisoning. Now, please, if you will, do as you were instructed and help Mr. Kaboosh move the barrels,” the professor said indignantly.
The cyborg helped to unload the barrels and carried them down into the belly of the station, while Dr. Schneider explained to Brogan his plans. As the cyborg moved within hearing range, he pretended to explain how the process worked.
“We will connect the fissionable material you brought to the plant in such a way as to begin the process of building a nuclear weapon. Theoretically, it should work well the first time we connect the leads, but I suggest we wait outside the gate the first time we test it, just to be on the safe side.”
The cyborg did not know the barrels contained explosives, not fissionable material. The professor planned on connecting the explosives to the nuclear reactor operating mechanisms to make them completely inoperable, thus stopping any possibility of making nuclear weapons. Herbert was confident the cyborg could not figure out their plans until too late.
In plain sight of the cyborg, Mac and Brogan hooked up the leads of the explosives to the reactors. After everything was ready, they moved about a half mile away from the site. Mac had a remote-control timer with him. On Herbert’s signal, he started the countdown.
Chapter Thirteen
Incomplete Revenge
Claudette helped Sandra, disguised as Aunt Pat, down the front steps. She boldly looked at the trooper sitting in his car in front of her apartment. She whispered to Sandra, who was playing the part of an old woman to perfection, “Stay put for a minute.” She walked over to the trooper and leaned in to talk to him.
“Just wanted you to know I’m taking my Aunt Pat to the health clinic this morning, so I won’t be going in to work today. You’re welcome to come along if you want,” she said with a shy smile.
“Thanks for letting me know, miss. If you want, I can report in to your boss you won’t be in. Hope your Aunt feels better soon.”
“Thank you so much. It will save me some time. Aunt Pat is really not doing well.” She waited until he pulled away from the curb before slowly walking back to Sandra.
“We need to stay in character for a little longer. We’ll go downtown to the health center, just a block awa
y from the pyramid, just in case he follows us.”
Sandra carefully leaned on Claudette’s arm and pretended to stumble as they moved toward the transport tube. Fortunately, Sandra had a forged T-chip, so she had no problem getting on the transport tube with Claudette, which took them to within a few blocks of the emperor’s pyramid. After they exited the tube, Claudette suggested they stop for tea and cookies at a little shop near the health center.
“That way we can make sure we are not followed,” she said quietly.
Sandra noticed how good Claudette was at her spy craft. No one would ever guess she was a BL rebel. She came across as such an insecure and unobtrusive individual, yet comfortable carrying on a one-sided conversation while they sat close to the front window, surreptitiously looking for soldiers. After 20 minutes and no sign of them being followed, Sandra led the way out the back of the tea shop, to her old hideout apartment.
Sandra quickly changed out of her old woman disguise and into a young boy’s garb, using make-up to make her face look scruffy. She turned to Claudette, looked her up and down and shook her head. It would not be a good idea for her to sneak into the pyramid looking the same as she always did. She motioned Claudette to sit down at her make-up table and with a few deft strokes of her make-up brush turned her into a beautiful young woman. She pulled her stringy hair up on top of her head, fastened it with some clips and pantomimed Claudette should step into a pair of tight jeans and old-fashioned t-shirt stored in the apartment. Fortunately, they were about the same size.
Claudette did not recognize herself in the mirror. No one could call her “Mouse” if she looked like this! She blushed as she saw herself as beautiful for the first time.
“But won’t it be a distraction inside the pyramid?” she asked Sandra.
Sandra pulled out her pad and wrote, “That’s the idea. Need you to be distraction to guards.”
“Okay, I guess.” Claudette had one last look at the beautiful woman in the mirror before turning back to the business at hand, a wondering smile on her face.
Sandra pulled out silver-handled laser pistols from her backpack and stuck them in her belt buckle under her shirt in the back. She gave a plain one to Claudette, asking her by pantomime if she knew how to use it. After a nod from Claudette, they headed out of the tiny apartment.
“Oh, wait,” Claudette hollered as she ran back into the apartment. She grabbed the big tote bag she always carried with her. She showed Sandra the four bricks of explosives in the bottom of the bag and shoved them back under a scarf to hide them.
Sandra led Claudette through a maze of back alleys, ending at what appeared to be a brick wall circling the perimeter of the pyramid. She carefully looked around to make sure there was no one around, knelt, pushed a brick in and a hidden door opened. Behind the door, stairs led down below the courtyard of the pyramid, the route Sandra used to escape from the emperor several years previously. Now she intended to put herself back into the range of his clutches. She knew exactly what would happen if she got caught. He would show her no mercy. She just hoped they could destroy the cyborgs, then go up to Priest’s suite to assassinate him, before getting themselves safely out of the pyramid.
The two women crept down the stairs and through the silent, dark tunnel. Sandra saw no footprints in the dim light cast by the motion sensitive walkway lights other than the dim outline of her own prints from her escape several years before. It probably meant her escape tunnel had not been discovered. A good sign. Now, if she remembered correctly, this branch of the tunnel went to the basement rather than up to the emperor’s quarters. They walked for several dozen feet before Sandra saw the branch she looked for. She almost passed it but saw the dim outline of a door as she walked by. She grabbed Claudette’s arm and pulled her back into the side tunnel. She had never used this branch of the tunnel so wasn’t sure what she would find. Taking a deep breath. she reached for the handle of the door. She quietly eased the door open and poked her head out.
It came out exactly where she hoped it did, just a few doors away from where she remembered seeing the cyborgs being made. She motioned for Claudette to follow closely behind her. She started to step into the hallway but heard someone coming. Quickly, she pushed Claudette behind her and quietly closed the door. The sound of marching soldiers on the other side of the door quickly faded away. Counting silently to twenty, she opened the door again. Good. Nothing. They crept out again. If her memory served her right, the cyborg manufacturing section was four doors down on the right.
They had almost reached the fourth door when they heard marching again. They had no other option. Sandra opened the door and slid into the room; Claudette right behind her. In the dim light, from one end of the room to the other, half-men, half-machines reclined on tables tilted half-way up, row upon row. There must be a hundred of them hooked up to all kinds of wires and tubes in various stages of development. They could see no other humans in the huge room. Both women were shocked at what they saw. How could anyone do this to another human being? As they walked down the center of the room, they sensed eyes following them. Something made Sandra stop beside one cyborg. She looked in his eyes, sure he was trying to plead with her. Yes, she was sure of it. A tear trickled down his face. He suddenly grabbed her arm and she followed the direction he pointed with the other hand toward a large room on the left, filled with computers and all kinds of electrical equipment. He tried to speak. She leaned in and swore she heard him whisper, “Kill us, please.”
Claudette came back to see what the delay was. She saw where the cyborg pointed. She ran toward the room while Sandra tried to release his tight hold on her arm. She managed to escape, but then heard the door behind her open.
“Hey, boy, what are you doing in here?”
Without hesitating, Sandra turned, pulled her pistol and shot the guard standing in the doorway. As he fell, she saw more than a dozen soldiers rounding the corner in the hallway, armed to the teeth. She slammed the door shut but could find no way to lock it. She grunted as she shoved a heavy desk in front of the door, knowing it wouldn’t do much to delay them. She turned and ran toward Claudette, already planting explosives in critical places in the center of the electronics. She ducked as she heard the scraping of the desk as the soldiers easily pushed it aside. The sound of a shot and then the breeze of a laser skimmed past her ear. Sandra ran around the parameter, looking for another way out, but there was none. Claudette met her at the back of the room, her face calm.
“Finished?” Sara questioned with her expressive face. Claudette nodded.
“Any way out?” Claudette asked as the sound of running feet approached. Sandra shook her head.
“Well, I guess this is it,” Claudette said without hesitation. “I can’t think of a better way to go, can you? Now how about we destroy the emperor’s cyborg army?”
Claudette grabbed Sandra’s hand, smiled and together they pushed the button on the timer for the explosives.
Chapter Fourteen
The Big Move
General Veracruz impatiently waited for the last of the White Warriors and other rebels to leave the Laredo compound. Citizens had been moving out steadily for the past month, scattering to points south. It had been a very slow process. Every day he worried the enemy would appear and it would mean a massacre. But as the days turned into weeks and there was no sign of soldiers, he felt they just might get it done. Battalions of rebel soldiers escorted large groups of citizens as far as the mountains of Monterey before citizens were on their own.
His father, Max, led the first battalion south. Once citizens were released to finish their journey, the rebels were ordered to march to the old Mexico City suburb to establish a new base. An advance team had received permission from the city’s government officials to set up base in the Chapultepec park. The ruins of an old castle in the park would be perfect for the rebel headquarters.
“I’m confident the emperor won’t want to spread his soldiers so far south,” he told them in his final address
. “What remains of the suburb from the destruction of WWIII is nestled in the juncture of the east and west mountain ranges of the Sierra Madre Occidental, which will also provide us with plenty of cover. While you are on the march, start learning Spanish because you will need it.”
He and the White Warriors would be the last ones to leave. They rigged explosives all over the camp to destroy every barracks and storage unit. They didn’t want to leave anything the enemy might be able to use. The explosives were timed to explode within an hour of their leaving. He considered setting booby traps but was concerned wandering refugees from the northern cities or suburbs might accidently trigger them. He decided instead to destroy everything.
He waited to leave for as long as he possibly could, not only because he wanted to make sure everyone was safely away. He was hoping to receive word from Brogan on the results of her and Sandra’s efforts to destroy the cyborgs and stall Priest’s efforts to build nuclear weapons. But he heard nothing.
The information on nuclear weaponry he dug up in San Antonio was useless to Brogan, since the nuclear station would not be able to generate fissionable material for years, regardless of the method used. But he passed on the information on how to shut down the cyborgs, just in case she needed it.
Now he had no choice but to leave. He looked around the Laredo compound where so much had happened. The BL rebel army became a professional fighting force here. It was hard to leave the place which had become home to all of them.
“General,” he heard Stephen call to him, “It is time to leave.”
He stiffened his shoulders, got on his motorcycle and led the way as the last of the White Warriors headed south on their motorcycles. Only a few miles outside of Laredo, about the same time he heard the explosions in Laredo going off, one of his communication aides rode up beside him and signaled to him he had a message. He pulled his motorcycle over to the side of the dusty road to look at the vid-pod handed to him. He knew from the expression on the aide’s face it would not be good news. The message was a BL rebel communication from Boston. By now, most BL rebels read the coded messages like a second language. He had no problem quickly deciphering the code.
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