The White Warrior

by Marilyn Donnellan

  Papa Marco had high blood pressure because of the pills he needed for slowing down his aging process, so he supplied his blood pressure wrist monitor for Allison to keep track of Brogan’s pulse rate and heart rate.

  Once Brogan was asleep, Allison sterilized the area around her belly button and made a one-inch incision. The auto-doc, designed to assist with surgeries for horses, had quickly modified tools for a robot-assisted laparoscopic hysterectomy. Ordinarily, Allison would control a sophisticated robotic system of surgical tools from outside the body, using natural wrist movements while viewing the hysterectomy on a three-dimensional screen. But due to the emergency, she had no screen, so she did the surgery by touch and sight, relying on the precision of the robot’s instruments and the auto-doc’s directions.

  Maria kept the surgical area clean, dabbing the blood away while Allison located the tear in the uterus wall causing the hemorrhaging. She quickly pulled the uterus out through the incision and sutured the end with surgical glue to prevent further bleeding. She closed the incision and stood back, checking Brogan’s vitals. The whole procedure was finished in less than an hour.

  Brogan’s breathing and blood pressure were normal. Allison shakily sat on a nearby chair.

  “That should do it. I’m sure she’ll be okay now. But she’ll not be able to bear any more children.”

  Papa Marco looked at Allison with admiration.

  “Quite a job you did, Allison. I’ve never seen anything like it. You are truly amazing. No wonder my son thinks you are such a special person.”

  Allison smiled. “Thank you, sir. But it was a team effort. I couldn’t have done it without everyone’s help, and of course the expertise of the auto-doc.”

  She looked around at the bloody mess in the kitchen. “Now, let’s see what we can do about getting the kitchen back in shape.”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Maria said authoritatively. “You’ve just saved Brogan’s life. You rest. One of the servants will bring some breakfast to you in your room. We’ll clean all this up. Marco, can you help the servants move Brogan to her room?”

  Brogan and Allison spent the next two months at the Anton’s estate, quietly recovering. Papa Marco told them about the news bulletins and warned them to be careful about showing their faces outside the mansion. They both put on some badly needed weight. Their friendship became stronger as they shared details of their lives.

  Allison worried about Brogan. She thought Brogan lost something essential to her very soul in prison. An uncharacteristic hardness permeated her attitude toward everyone. She seldom smiled and never laughed. She often saw her silently brooding. No matter how gently she tried to push her to talk about what happened to her in prison, Brogan refused.

  During one conversation attempt, Allison mentioned something she overheard between Sandra and Priest. Allison asked Brogan questions about her being raped during her time in prison. Brogan wouldn’t talk about it. But, Brogan asked her if she had been raped.

  “No,” she replied. “The day we were captured, two soldiers started to rape me, but Sandra stopped them, telling them I was too valuable as a doctor and if they harmed me, they would be severely punished. So, I guess it is why I spent most of the time in captivity binding up wounds and taking care of soldiers brought back to Boston who were injured in skirmishes with Book Liberators. I also did what I could to help prisoners in bad shape after torture.

  “Once, I was behind a curtain trying to save the life of a prisoner who had terrible wounds inflicted by Priest’s men. I overheard a conversation between Sandra and Priest. I’m sure if they knew I overheard them I might have been killed. What they said made me want to vomit. They were laughing about what they did to get to make him emperor.” She shuddered in revulsion.

  “Anyway, it turns out Sandra and Priest were long time lovers. He attended one of the first productions of her show, ‘Emperor of America,’ and went backstage to meet her. That’s when their twisted relationship started. They both hated the prime minister because members of their family were executed as part of his purge after WWIII. They simply bided their time to extract their revenge. Priest built up his detective business after the war but tried to maintain some type of connection with the military. Because of Riley’s assassination, he knew his time had come and volunteered for his job.

  “He and Sandra plotted how to gain access to Book Liberators’ top leadership. He suspected Marco was one of council members but couldn’t prove it, so Sandra agreed to win Marco over and betray him and the rest of council.

  “A few days before the betrayal of the council, Sandra invited the prime minister to a private showing of a new show to premier the following week. Since Prime Minister Altero was a big fan, she had no problem getting him to come to the theatre. At intermission, Sandra invited the prime minister into her dressing room for some Champagne. As he accepted the glass of bubbly from her, she removed a large, poisoned hat pin from her hair and stabbed him in the eye. It was all over in a matter of seconds, apparently.

  “General Priest already had his loyal marines stationed outside the theatre and killed anyone who resisted. Prime Minister Altero’s secretary was blown to smithereens by a grenade and the two androids guarding his door stopped working apparently, the minute the prime minister died. Their electronic systems were somehow tied to Altero’s DNA. But he carefully held back information about the assassination and take-over from the public until after Sandra was in place for the BL council meeting.

  “The next morning, after the raid on the BL council meeting, bombs exploded in the House of Lords, killing everyone inside. Once Priest was firmly in place, he appointed himself emperor, and dissolved the Houses of Commons in every province. So, it was really a kind of old-fashioned, grisly take-over with the man, and in this case, man and woman, with the greatest evil intent gaining power. The more I was forced to be around the two of them, the more convinced I became they are well suited for each other. They may say it is about revenge, but all they seem really interested in is power, at least Priest is. I sometimes saw a softer side of Sandra, but not when she was around Priest.”

  Brogan sat back against the comfortable cushion on the couch. What Allison told her made sense and explained so much. Priest’s coup wasn’t about doing what was best for the country, but the age-old story of revenge and a power-grab.

  The Book Liberators’ movement needed to change from simply protesting the elimination of reading and writing, to a revolution to return to citizens the basic freedoms on which America was founded. She was overwhelmed at the thought. But the passing thought quickly hardened into a passionate desire for revenge. It was because of Priest and Sandra Bryan was dead. They would pay. She enjoyed thinking of many different and painful ways she would make them pay.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The Battle

  Smoke and dust from the battle cleared for just a moment. Juan saw through his binoculars his motorcycle troops had managed to surround the emperor’s brigade of tanks. Although the tanks were fast, the more agile motorcycles were ideal for the mountainous region of Big Bend. He let out a whoop as one of the motorcycle’s grenade launchers scored a direct hit on a tank. The tank blew up, raising twenty feet in the air and crashing back down, off its tracks and now on its side; only two more of the five tanks left to kill. Soldiers dazedly started crawling out of the tank and rebels quickly surrounded them. Captured soldiers were quickly handcuffed and forced to lie down in the ditch next to the road. Any trooper resistance resulted in immediate death. The battle continued to rage around them.

  Juan mopped his brow with the handkerchief he kept tied around his neck and looked around from the vantage point where he stood. The battle for Texas Province, and especially northern Rio Grande, had raged on for six months. They had the advantage because rebels, artillery and tanks were already in the right place as the war started, while the emperor had to move soldiers and equipment from New York Province. Because of terrible snow storms frequently hitting New York P
rovince, resupplying the emperor’s military became a constant problem. Hobos did an excellent job sabotaging supply lines, too, increasing the emperor’s logistic problems.

  After Sandra’s betrayal, Juan’s message got to his dad, Max, in plenty of time so he prepared the rebel fighters for Priest’s attack. Priest thought he would catch them by surprise. But, Max deployed some false signs to give the appearance they were unprepared, only it was a well-planned trap. The first battle in early July became a decisive win for rebels. But since then, Priest’s better-trained and better-equipped marines had not been so easy to fool. Rebels now had to resort to guerilla tactics by hitting hard and fast before disappearing into the desert.

  Rebels managed to lead the marines far enough south to keep them away from highly populated areas, keeping loss of civilian life limited. Priest’s forces, now divided, had to respond to outbreaks of rebel violence across every province and against more organized rebel violence around Laredo. Even their superior equipment wasn’t enough to deal with constant rebel harassment in so many locations.

  Juan rubbed his weary eyes and looked through the binoculars again. The earth shook as the last two of the five tanks exploded when grenades made direct hits. He pulled out his radio and signaled rebels to re-group beyond the canyon to the south. He looked up at the sky and figured from placement of the sun they had only a couple of more hours of daylight. Since the rebels were short on night-goggles, it meant Priest’s forces had the advantage in darkness. He watched as the motorcycle brigade rounded up the remaining prisoners, handcuffing and blindfolding them before loading them on to robo-vans to cart them off to a hidden cave. They would be sent to Laredo and prison camp.

  The canyon where they re-grouped was pock-marked by caves, carefully camouflaged by scrub brush. His rebels badly needed rest and food while the empire’s forces floundered around trying to figure out where rebel forces were. Land mines hidden in front of the caves, gave them plenty of warning in case soldiers got too close.

  Suddenly a jet screamed overhead, and the whistle of a bomb caused everyone to scatter and flatten to the ground. The ground trembled as the bomb hit, right in the middle of the caravan of prisoners. He figured it meant a few dozen less prisoners of war to feed but wondered how many rebels got caught in the explosion.

  He swung his leg over his motorcycle and sped up to the crater the bomb left. What a mess. He looked around and saw one of his rebels struggling to his feet, blood streaming from a bad cut on his head. Apparently, he’d been thrown away from the crater and managed to survive. Juan drove up to see if he needed help. As he got closer he realized it was Sergeant Balachek, one of his best men.

  “Hey, Sarge, need some help?”

  “Nah, Major. It’s just a scratch. What happened anyway?” The sergeant appeared to be slightly dazed.

  “Oh, nothin’ much. Just a little bomb.”

  “Okay, just so it ain’t nothin’ serious,” the sergeant said with a grin. His expression sobered as he looked around and realized nothing remained of the prisoner vans.

  “Shoot! Looks like we lost several good rebels.”

  “How many did we lose, Sergeant?”

  “Let’s see. Three robo-vans with a guard for each one, so I’m guessing no more than six. Might have been a lot worse. This is the first-time Priest has used a jet for bombing. Are you thinking he’s getting desperate?”

  “Maybe. Let’s move everyone to the caves as quickly as possible and re-group. I don’t know how soon the jet might be back, or if there are more to come.”

  “You got it, Major.”

  While they talked, the sergeant pulled off his neck scarf and tied it around his head to stop the bleeding dripping into his eyes. He turned and headed toward the rebels starting to struggle to their feet after the bombing.

  “Come on, you lazy no good bums! Get the lead out! The jet could return any minute, so hustle. On your cycles and head back to camp. Any sign or sound of the jet, scatter to the winds and rendezvous at camp as soon as it gets dark.”

  While the sergeant got the rebels moving, Juan gunned his cycle and headed back to camp, keeping an eye on the sky for the return of the jet. The closest runway for jet refueling had to be San Antonio. He needed to send word to rebels in the area to sabotage the fuel source. If this was a new tactic by Priest, they had to shift their own tactics. While they didn’t have access to air power, they had plenty of guerrilla forces to create havoc on the ground and hopefully keep the jets grounded.

  As he approached the network of caves, he kept his eyes open for anything out of place. The rebels knew exactly the paths to avoid hidden mines, but there was always the possibility a captured rebel might reveal the location. In the deepening twilight, he decided to cut the engine on his cycle and walk it in the rest of the way.

  As he moved through the canyon he was reassured by the normal sounds of the desert insects and birds, indicating there was nothing present that shouldn’t be. Like all rebels, he learned how to move through the desert as though a shadow, leaving little or no trace of his movements. He approached the rendezvous cave and made the sound of a night owl. The sentry on duty responded in kind, allowing Juan to continue to move forward.

  Juan carefully moved aside a large scrub bush to push his cycle inside, parking it next to several dozen others already inside the large cave. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, seeking out the tiny light further ahead and to the left. As he turned the bend, he saw a large contingent of rebel fighters seated around a campfire eating a meal. They started to stand up to salute him, but he ordered them to stand down. He walked over to the mess table and helped himself to some chow. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he smelled food.

  He saw Sergeant Julie Hightower was the cook on duty. She had been a chef in Austin City before she joined the rebels. She was not only an outstanding cook, but a ferocious fighter. She was barely 4-feet-11inches-tall, but all muscle. She reminded Juan a lot of Janice. His throat tightened as he remembered the BL council member who had done so much and sacrificed her life for the cause. The list of rebels who made the ultimate sacrifice kept getting longer. He swallowed hard and walked over to where Hightower dished up some fried chicken.

  “Sergeant, I just wanted to say thanks for another great meal. Good food is such a necessity for fighters.”

  “Hey, no problem, major. Glad I can do my part. By the way, I heard you guys had a bit of a dust up today?”

  “Yeah, I guess Priest isn’t through with surprises. We’re going to up the ante to deal with it, but it isn’t something we can’t handle. Thanks again. Great food.”

  Juan walked over to a convenient boulder and sat down, holding his plate of fried chicken and fixing’s, the stress of the day finally hitting him. He realized he was exhausted. He desperately needed sleep. But not until he talked to the troops about what happened today, and they figured out how best to respond. He weighed various strategies as he ate, wondering how his father would deal with it. Max was still in Laredo, in charge of training more rebels. He was deep in thought as Balachek walked up to him.

  “Hey, major. Got a minute?”

  “Sure, sarge. What do you need? By the way, how’s the head? Did you have a medic look at it?”

  “My head’s fine. Too hard for any serious damage,” he said with a wry grin. “The troops are wondering if they should turn in or if you want to talk to them first.”

  “Let me talk to everyone first. Make sure everyone has a plate of food in their hands before blowing the whistle to get everyone’s attention.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The sergeant walked away while Juan pondered exactly what to say to the rebels about this latest development. A few minutes later, the piercing sound of the sergeant’s whistle reverberated throughout the cave. Juan moved to the large boulder in the center of the cave serving as the podium for their meetings. He watched as a group of about three hundred rebels sat themselves on the ground. The flicker of solar lamps hanging around
the walls of the cave reflected on their weary faces as they continued to eat. The excellent acoustics of the cave made it easy for him to talk without having to shout or use a microphone.

  “Great work out there today. Taking out all five of the empire’s tanks was fantastic. You are all getting very good at launching grenades from your cycles. As most of you know firsthand, Priest has evidently decided to start using jets and bombs to intimidate us. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think a few pebbles dropped from the sky will stop us.”

  With a roar and a lot of fist pumps, the rebels agreed with Juan. As soon as things settled down, he continued.

  “However, it does mean we need to reconsider our tactics. As I see it we have a couple of options: first, we can switch to night attacks to make it harder for the jets to find us in the dark; or secondly, we can revise our day tactics to make sure we are less bunched up and bombs will have less effect. Any other suggestions?”

  Juan believed his forces had every right to participate in tactical discussions. He led the rebels in a free for all discussion, with ideas flying right and left. Maybe it wasn’t a standard military tactic, but because of his own leadership insecurities, it helped his thought processes.

  After several minutes, he called for silence and asked for some recommendations. Rebels included both men and women of all ranks and he’d worked hard to make sure equality occurred at every level.

  One of his first lieutenants was a young woman by the name of Naomi Wann. Prior to joining the rebels, she had been a medical student at UT Dallas. After her parents were arrested and killed by Priest’s soldiers, she left UT and joined the rebel army. She was over six-feet tall and very athletic. She left most men in the dust when it came to physical stamina, but they often underestimated her because of her beauty. She was Black and wore her hair close-cropped to her perfectly shaped head. She had flawless ebony skin and piercing black eyes, revealing deep pools of intelligence. Her model-perfect body was the envy of women and the desire of most men. Yet she remained aloof and picked her friends carefully. Juan watched her develop through the ranks and knew she would earn her captain’s bars before too long. Now he was pleased to see her raise her hand with a suggestion.