Janice figured it was time to get out. Three against one was not very good odds, especially since she was about half the size of each of them. She grabbed her backpack and sprinted down the main aisle, dodging fallen file cabinets and heading out the door toward where chamber three should be. Having caught them by surprise, she located the door, whipped out her security badge and opened the door before they arrived. The big door smashed one man’s hand as it shut behind her. She heard him screaming in agony, but they evidently were unable to manually open the heavy door. It was a good thing Mormons had been so paranoid about security. She did not know if the bad guys had badges to eventually open the door, so she still needed to find safety.
She saw a roped off area on the left where a cave-in occurred. That direction wouldn’t work. She ran down the main hall looking for someplace to hide. She was small enough to hide in a filing cabinet, but they would eventually find her, so decided it was not an option. She sprinted around the right side of the chamber, dragging her hand along the wall hoping to find a key pad for another secret chamber.
About to give up hope, she saw the flash of another security pad. Must be chamber four. She quickly swiped her badge and slipped through the opening.
Chapter Six
T-chips and Trouble
Working in UT San Antonio’s hematology research center was a dream come true for Allison. Born in 2094 in New York Province, daughter of George Simpson and Diane Richey, her interest in hematology medicine solidified after her mother died of leukemia when Allison was 16 years old. Her father died shortly after, leaving her to fend for herself. Fortunately, the empire’s free education system for orphans of military veterans paid for her schooling. Her dad served as a marine during WWIII. After she completed her residency in UTA, she moved to San Antonio.
Diane’s love of books was passed on to her daughter so Allison’s involvement with BL was a no brainer for her. And, it was her medical training which led to solving a big identification problem for rebels.
Since T-chips were used for citizen identification, Allison developed an ingenious tiny pouch to circumvent the possibility they could identify BL rebels. The pouch was surgically made inside the fleshy part of the thumb, near the palm. It allowed BL members to have their T-chips surgically removed from the top of their hand, with a dud chip implanted in its place. No one would guess the original was somewhere else when the member was at a protest.
Before members went to meetings or protest rallies, the active chip was placed into a slot on a dog’s collar. The dog stayed home while the protester went to the rally. After the rally, the active T-chip was placed back into the tiny pouch near the palm and the scanner read it through the hand as though still in the original location. The empire was unable to identify individuals attending protest rallies because, as far as the empire knew, students sat safe at home with their dog.
There was quite a run at pet shops to buy pets as soon as the pouch was developed. UTA had implemented a “pets allowed” policy, after a humane society protested the “no pets” rule.
Initially, however, there were a couple of problems. Since T-chips also read blood pressure and body temperature, Allison needed to figure out a way to make sure chip read-outs continued to show normal human temperature and pressure while in a dog’s collar. Through trial and error and some casual discussions with veterinary students, Allison discovered medium to large sized dogs were more apt to have blood pressure rates like humans. Blood pressure and respiratory rates of cats were just too high to fool the health department.
Members not fans of dogs were encouraged to offer to dog-sit or walk dogs of unsuspecting neighbors on days of BL events. They put special collars on the dogs where they could insert the T-chips, left them at home, or returned the dogs to the owner’s home. If owners asked about the new collars, BL members said the other one broke or it was a gift. After they returned from protests they removed the chip from the dog’s collar and transferred it back into the pouch on their thumb.
Another problem was a dog’s normal body temperature ran 100 to 102.5, compared to 98.6 in humans, which might convey a false alert to the health department via the T-chip. With Brogan’s engineering help, the problem was solved by developing a tiny solar battery for inside the temperature-controlled dog collar. The battery kept the chip at the pet-parent’s normal 98.6 degrees.
In between her hematology research and periodic teaching assignments at the university, Allison traveled across provinces with her medical bag, training BL members on T-chip removal and pouch surgery. She had several close calls when soldiers swooped into the area looking for BL cells.
One such close call occurred about a year after the assassination attempt on Brogan. She was in Chicago Province for a medical conference, but also helping a new BL cell on the northern side of Tinley Park, a suburb south of Chicago City. Members all received the T-chip pouch, with one member, Dennis, watching intently so he could perform the procedures in the future. They were working in an abandoned restaurant outside the city’s main dome. It was early December and freezing cold, with snow more than three feet deep and drifts over nine feet. Solar heaters worked overtime to try and keep them all warm.
They had just finished with the pouches. She and Dennis were packing supplies near the kitchen when they heard a scream and the buzz of a laser gun. Ducking behind the old bar of the restaurant, they frantically looked around for an escape route. Nothing.
Meanwhile, there were more screams and what sounded like heavy boots of the empire’s soldiers. Not good. Suddenly, Dennis grabbed her arm and motioned her down some stairs he discovered hidden under a rug. Allison grabbed her medical bag and followed him.
Scrambling down the stairs, they entered a cob-webbed tunnel which apparently hadn’t been used in years. Dennis slid a heavy bolt across the hidden door over their heads before they headed down the tunnel. It was pitch black, but sensor lights came on as they moved forward. The tunnel wasn’t very high, so they walked bent half way over. Moving quickly, they half ran, half crab-walked. Just when she thought she was not able to walk any further – her back was very uncomfortable – she saw a light ahead of them.
The tunnel ended on the banks of a river. Cold wind blowing from the river slammed into them as they approached the opening. It was a good thing she wore her temperature adjusting jumpsuit and hood, otherwise she might have frozen to death quickly. Dennis wasn’t so lucky. He left his heavy parka in the old restaurant and started shivering as they got closer to the tunnel opening.
They heard soldiers behind them. There was nowhere else to go but outside. Allison went out first, frantically looking for shelter or transportation to get them away from the area. Dennis would die of hypothermia if shelter was not found quickly.
Fortunately, not more than 20-feet away was a transport tube to Chicago City. She quickly pulled out two forged T-chips and they swiped their hands as they entered the tubes. Within a few minutes, they lost the soldiers in the maze of Chicago City streets. She made sure Dennis arrived at a BL safe house before she headed to her hotel. BL members had set up safe houses when soldiers began getting too close to members of cells.
When she started traveling a lot for BL, she rescued a black Labrador retriever she named Marco Junior. She stayed in pet-friendly hotels and left him in the hotel with her chip in his collar, when she was on BL business. She made sure staff did not disturb or clean her room while she was away.
This hotel was located on Michigan Avenue, downtown under the dome. After a series of tube changes and short walks through snow mist generated by the dome during a snowstorm, she finally arrived a block away from the hotel. Exhausted, she snuck in through a side entrance and made it up the stairs to her second-floor room without seeing anyone. Marco Junior enthusiastically greeted her, expecting her to take him for a much-needed walk.
She groaned as she realized she had no choice unless she wanted to clean up a mess. She had already removed the forged T-chip before entering the hotel, p
utting it into the transmission proof packet in a pocket of her jumpsuit. Now she removed her real chip out of Marco’s collar and placed it into the pouch on her hand. She grabbed his leash and headed down the elevator.
As she exited on the first floor, the receptionist greeted her. “Hope you had a good rest, Dr. Simpson.” For a moment, Allison wasn’t sure what she meant. Then she remembered. As far as the staff knew she was resting in her room all day.
“Yes, thank-you,” she replied with a smile. “But more conference meetings tonight and tomorrow, so you won’t see much of me; except to walk the dog, of course.”
As she walked out the revolving door, into light snow sleet, two soldiers entered the hotel. They looked her over but kept going. She breathed a sigh of relief and walked Marco Junior around the corner of the building to a sheltered area, a dog park for hotel guests. As she waited for Marco Junior to do his business, her mind turned to BL members who probably died in the old restaurant. She hoped most had escaped. Her mind was caught up in her thoughts when Marco started growling and footsteps broke through the thin crust of ice nearby.
Startled out of her reverie, she turned around to see one of the soldiers she saw a few minutes earlier now facing her. The other one stood a few steps behind him, his hand on the laser gun in a holster on his belt.
“Are you Dr. Allison Simpson?” he asked with a frown.
“Yes, I am. What can I do for you, sir?”
“We have a few questions for you.”
“Sure, but do you mind if we go back to the lobby where it is warm? It is a bit cold out here,” she asked with a smile.
“After you, Doctor.”
Marco Junior was in full-throated growl and straining at the leash.
“Marco, quiet. These soldiers just want to talk. Now be good.”
He didn’t like it, but he obediently followed her into the lobby. She decided to lead the men into the bar area, subtly swaying her hips as she walked ahead of them. With her back to them, she lowered the zipper on her tunic to show a bit more cleavage. Maybe she could use her appearance to sway their thinking. She learned early in her adolescence to use her body to get what she wanted.
“What will it be, Doctor? The usual?” the bartender, Sam, asked with a leer from behind the bar.
“Yes, Sam, give me a cosmopolitan with vanilla vodka. How about you gentlemen? My treat. It’s cold out there and I’m sure you are both freezing. Nothing is too good for our empire’s military.”
Trying hard to maintain their professional demeanors, it was obvious they were both disarmed by the attractive doctor’s charm and enticing offer of a drink.
“It sounds good, Doctor, but we are not allowed to drink on the job. Thank you anyway.”
“Okay, but I’m sure you can at least accept a cup of coffee to take off the chill,” Allison said as she slid off the barstool and headed for a table.
“Sam,” she called over her shoulder, “How about some coffee for the soldiers? Put it on my tab. We’ll sit over here where it is more comfortable.”
She led them to a low table with body-molding chairs nearby, doing her best to hide her nervousness.
“Now, what can I do for you?”
Marco Junior laid down beside her but never took his eyes off the two men. Before they could start asking questions, Sam brought over her drink and the coffees. She calmed her nerves as they added cream and sugar to their drinks. A sip of the cocktail helped.
“Where have you been the past few days? And specifically, today?” asked the taller and sterner of the two.
“I’m sorry, I did not catch your names.”
“I’m Major Harris, Doctor, and this is Lieutenant Collins.”
“Delighted to meet you, gentlemen. Now, to answer your questions, I’m here for a medical conference, so I was primarily in and out of the hotel the past couple of days going to conference activities. Today I was so exhausted I spent the day in my room trying to catch up on my sleep and working on a speech I am supposed to give. Why, what’s going on?”
“Can anyone verify your whereabouts today?”
“I guess the only one who can verify it for sure is Marco Junior, my dog,” she said innocently with a smile. “He was in the room with me. Or, check my T-chip. It will tell you where I was. What’s this all about, anyway?”
“Doctor, we cannot give you any details, but someone reported seeing a woman of your description in Tinley Park today who is part of the Book Liberators protest movement. They said she was a doctor.”
“Really?” she said with a low-throated laugh, “So, how did you connect that situation with me? Yes, I’m a doctor, but how could I possibly be in Tinley Park when I was here?”
She finished her drink and stood up, looking down expectantly at the two soldiers.
“Now, if you will excuse me and if there isn’t anything else, I need to finish working on the speech I’m giving at a dinner tonight at the conference.”
Realizing they had nothing to go on, they reluctantly stood and walked out the door. Behind them, Allison let out an unobtrusive breath of relief. She started toward the elevator, Marco following. She entered the elevator and looked down, suddenly realizing her jumpsuit was quite dirty around the bottom. Her heart stopped for a minute as she realized the dirt was probably from the tunnel and tramping through snow during the escape. If they noticed, they might be back. Of course, it might be attributed to walking in the dog park, too. She hoped so.
The incident was one of the closest escapes she had, although she often arrived in areas after the empire’s soldiers had been through and killed or wounded hundreds or thousands of citizens in a community, looking for BL members. She provided medical treatment whenever it happened. She was surprised soldiers never seemed to notice the T-chip pouch on rebels.
Sometimes she was in battle areas, stuck between protesters and soldiers, providing medical care to people on both sides. Using false T-chips and identities, she’d not yet been corralled by soldiers. But she figured it was only a matter of time before her luck ran out.
Chapter Seven
Love and Death
The train trip from Van Horn to Las Vegas was uneventful for Brogan and Bryan. Because his parents worked for the government, they had VIP clearance, breezing thru security at the California Province border.
Bryan’s parents, Stephen and Alice, met them at the station in Las Vegas. He was proud to introduce Brogan to them. The couples chatted happily as they drove to the sprawling ranch house on the edge of the old city. Driving through Las Vegas in their luxurious robo-car, Brogan said was surprised to see how little the city resembled vids from the height of its popularity in the previous century. The air, though drier than Texas, was much warmer.
“Terrorists targeted the city during the war because of its reputation as Sin City, with multiple suicide bombers wreaking havoc night after night until the Strip was almost destroyed,” Stephen said.
There was plenty of new construction, but it was clear the focus now was not on gambling and entertainment but on meeting the basic housing needs of the population. There were no signs of any domes prevalent in larger cities. Climate in this part of California province was milder than the other three provinces. Apparently, nuclear impact on climate was greater further northeast.
Bryan’s parents explained Prime Minister Altero eventually wanted to see the city restored to its former glory as a tourist attraction, but right now most city residents worked for the government, traveling up and down California Province as tour guides and administrators for various national monuments and parks.
Although she had not met Bryan’s parents in person, she told him later she liked them immediately. Stephen Douglass was almost as tall as Bryan with an athletic, trim build, his curly salt and pepper hair trimmed short. She saw where Bryan got his good looks, with the same chiseled jaw and deep voice. His dad was much more outgoing than Bryan. In many ways, he reminded her of Marco with his hearty hand-shake and salesmanship approach to any co
nversation. Both parents wore tunics and slacks made from expensive material in rich colors seeming to shimmer as they walked.
Bryan’s eyes, hair and mannerisms, however, came from Alice. Like her, he was reserved and rarely spoke unless asked a question. She was a tall blond, with striking aqua-blue eyes and a lithe figure, soft-spoken, fragile looking and reserved, so pale she almost had a blue tinge to her skin. An artist, as evidenced by paintings of beautiful desert landscapes with her signature covering walls of the house, Alice seemed to enjoy having another woman in the house to countermand the booming voice of her partner.
The house was so different from Brogan’s home, with rich furnishings and obvious wealth and luxury. It took Brogan a while to feel comfortable. Alice showed her around the beautiful house while Bryan and his Dad went into his den to talk. Two large greyhound dogs, Sasha and Moshe, quietly followed the women around, toenails clicking on the polished wooden floors.
Of a sleek, modern design, sandstone walls of the house glowed a soft stucco pink, blending into the desert landscape. The main entrance contained a living room and kitchen in a large great room, with a spacious den in back. To the left of the great room was a master bedroom wing as big as the living room area, with a sitting room, a king-sized bed, large bathroom, two walk-in closets and a dressing room, plus an indoor spa and exercise room which opened to an Olympic sized outdoor pool. The right wing of the house was the guest area where Brogan and Bryan would sleep. It too included a large sitting area, king sized bed, a walk-in closet, dressing room and bathroom. Bryan had never lived in the house, other than visits from college, since it was built after he went away to college.
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