The Mother Warrior

by Marilyn Donnellan

  “Mother,” Emily asked quietly, “can you answer some questions for me?”

  “Sure, sweetheart. I’ll try. What would you like to know?”

  She thought for a moment, struggling to get the words right. “It’s like this, I’m having a hard time understanding why a loving God allows bad things to happen, especially to people like you. It just doesn’t seem fair.”

  Brogan reached over and took her daughter’s hand. The train was stopped again for more repairs to the tracks, so there was plenty of time to talk. “That’s a very good question, Emily. And one I’m sure people have been asking for centuries. I know I don’t have all the answers, but I can tell you what I believe, based on my own experiences. Okay?”

  “Sounds good, mother.”

  “When I was in prison, and after the torture stopped and I could begin to think clearly again, I asked myself the same question. Unfortunately, I decided God didn’t care, so I wouldn’t either. Because of that decision, I became cold, hateful and only interested in revenge against those who had taken your father away from me and hurt me so bad. I don’t know if you remember the last time I saw you. I think you were only five years old.”

  “I remember, Mother.”

  “I stayed away from you for almost two years, afraid I might lead the empire’s soldiers to you and they would take you away, and I would never see you again; at least that’s what I told myself at the time. But now I know the real reason I stayed away was because I did not want you to see the kind of person I became after killing so many of the enemy soldiers. I was filled with hate and only wanted to hurt everyone who I regarded as an enemy.”

  “I think I remember you crying a lot and how scared I was. I thought you were hurt, and I didn’t know how to make you stop crying.”

  Brogan looked at her beautiful daughter and smiled, “You are absolutely right. And that was when everything changed for me. Your grandfather helped me to see how terrible hate was and how it would destroy me if I didn’t forgive those who hurt me and who were responsible for your father’s death.”

  “I don’t understand. How can you forgive someone who did such terrible things to you and murdered my father?” Emily clenched her fists and said ferociously, “And I am going to pay them back for what they did!”

  Brogan put her arm around her fierce teenager and lifted her chin to look in her eyes. “See what I mean? How are you feeling inside when you say that?”

  “I’m so angry, it hurts my stomach.”

  “Exactly. Anger hurts you most of all. Because I believe in a loving God, it is my responsibility to show His love to others. And I cannot do that when I’m angry and hateful. All it does is hurt me. Hatred and revenge extract a terrible price on a person. I may not understand why God allows things to happen the way they do, but if there is one important thing I have learned, it is to trust Him.

  “Evil is based on choices people make. God gave us a free will, to choose good or evil. So, how is that God’s fault if people choose evil?

  “When I don’t trust in God’s goodness and love and try to rely on my own emotions of hate and revenge, it is very hurtful to me and to those around me. So, which makes more sense? Accept the fact I don’t need to know why and trust God, or, refuse to believe in God and turn my hate and anger toward hurting others. For me, those were the only choices I had.

  “After my talk with your grandfather, I ask God to help me forgive everyone who hurt me; to forgive those responsible for your father’s death. When I really worked on forgiveness, the terrible knot in my stomach went away. And, even if the people who harmed me did not ask for my forgiveness, I had to forgive them anyway.

  “Forgiveness does not in any way dilute the evil they did, nor does it mean they should not be punished for it. But I had to do this for myself. Do you understand?”

  Emily sat quietly for a moment, her lovely face intense as she considered her mother’s words.

  “So that means, regardless of what someone does to me, I should learn how to forgive them? Doesn’t that seem kind of one sided? How does that help them?”

  “It doesn’t, necessarily. But, when I change my attitude from one of hate to an attitude of love, it changes me and helps me to be a better person. Which means, I am then able to see the hurt and need in others and help them, instead of being focused on what I want or need, which can be very selfish.”

  “Let’s say I agree with you. And I’m not sure I completely do. How do you justify the BL rebel killings of the empire’s soldiers?” She put up her hand to stop her mother before she could say anything. “I know. They are the weeds and sometimes you have to get rid of them, so they don’t destroy the good vegetables.”

  Brogan laughed. “You do remember what we talked about before we escaped Cosala! Okay, let me ask you this: when were you going to tell me, you were thinking of joining the rebels?”

  Emily sat with her mouth open. “How did you know about that? Did Mac tell you?”

  “No, sweetheart. Mac didn’t say a word. But what neither of you know, I had to learn to read lips when I was a slave in Mississippi. We all did. It was the only way we knew how to anticipate what the guards might do to us. One of the other slaves taught me how. So, when you and Mac were talking at our meal in the hotel, I read your lips.”

  “But that’s not fair! Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I’m sorry, but I just happened to look over and saw what you were saying. It is a skill I picked up and I didn’t mean to butt into your conversation with Mac. Besides, I figured you would tell me when you were ready. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

  Now Emily looked sheepish. “You know me really well, even if you have been gone a long time.” She gave her mother a hug. “I feel so much better now we’ve had this conversation. But I still don’t know what to do about joining the rebels or going with you, wherever it is you are going.”

  “So, you are not sure if non-violence is another way to fight the emperor?”

  “No, I’m sure there is more than one way to fight evil. I guess I just have to figure out what my way might be.”

  Brogan thought for a minute. “How about this? You cannot join until you are at least 18 years old, anyway. Do you think you could commit to staying with me for one year? During that year, I’ll teach you everything I know about being a rebel solider, including how to use disguises and be a spy.”

  Emily’s face lit up. “A spy? That sounds so super great. And I like the idea of learning how to do disguises. I was reading in your journal about the woman who had her tongue cut out for treason but still became a White Warrior.”

  “I think you are referring to Sandra Bernhardt. Would you like to hear more about her?”

  “Yes, I would. What little I read in your journals she sounded like an interesting person.”

  “She was definitely interesting. She was Emperor Priest’s consort and responsible for the raid where your Dad was killed. She also assassinated Prime Minister Altero with a hat pin, just one of the stories I did not include in my journals.”

  “A hat pin? How did she do that?”

  “She was an incredible actor and the prime minister came to one of her shows. She invited him backstage to meet her. While he was drinking a glass of wine, she pulled a long, poisoned hat pin out of her hair and stabbed him in the eye.”

  “Ewue! Yukky! Why did she do that?”

  “She and Priest wanted revenge because their families were killed under the prime minister’s reign. Remember what I said about hatred and revenge, and how the person who feels these things will pay a price?”

  Emily nodded, so Brogan continued. “What Sandra did not realize was Priest was psychotic. He became very abusive of her when they were living together after the assassination. Sandra was not very big. She was only about 5-feet tall and weighed maybe 90 pounds. He used to pick her up by the throat and throw her across the room. He did it one too many times, so she escaped and went into hiding.

  “After about a year in hidi
ng, I think it was, she decided she needed to do something to stop Priest’s reign. She knew first-hand what kind of man he was. She decided she wanted to become a White Warrior to make up for all the terrible things she had done. By this time, she was a member of a BL cell in Austin City. She was an expert at disguises and forgery because of her acting, so she had a bunch of different identities she used to stay hidden from the emperor.

  “She tried to sneak on to the White Warrior base near Laredo but was injured in a fall and had amnesia for a while. We did a DNA test on her while she was in the hospital and discovered who she really was. After a long debate by the BL Citizen Council, it was decided she should pay for her crimes by having her tongue cut out.”

  Emily gasped at the thought, knowing what a terrible thing it must have been for an actor, but she didn’t say anything. She was anxious for her mother to continue the story.

  “So, that’s what happened. But, because she was such an incredible actor she could easily pantomime to let everyone know what she was thinking. After she healed, we allowed her to train as a White Warrior. And believe me, she was a lethal powerhouse for a woman so small. She traveled with me by motorcycle on what we thought was going to be a trip to Canada to recruit their help to fight the emperor. We even got on a Canadian submarine to travel from the Chicago City area, under Lake Michigan to Canada.”

  Emily was enthralled with the story. “A real submarine?”

  “Yes, but that’s another story. Shall I continue?”

  “Oh, yes, please!”

  “Anyway, we got a call from General Juan saying Priest was going to develop a cyborg army and nuclear weapons, so the captain of the submarine let us off north of Boston City and we made our way toward the emperor’s pyramid to see what we could do to sabotage what he was trying to do. Long story short, Sandra and another spy, Claudette, destroyed the cyborg army, but they were both killed in the explosion they set.”

  “Wow! She must have been someone special. But, you almost sound like you admired her. Isn’t she the one responsible for Dad’s death?”

  “Yes, she was. But that just shows you what forgiveness can do for a person. Sandra was very sorry for what she did and spent the rest of her short life doing what she could to make up for it. I tried very hard to dislike her, but the more we worked and traveled together, the more I realized how terrific she was, so I decided to not define her by what she did in the past.”

  As she sat quietly, considering her mother’s story, Emily felt she was beginning to understand better what forgiveness meant. It was obvious her mother forgave Sandra for the terrible things she did. As a result, Sandra became a valuable White Warrior and martyr for the rebel cause. She couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened to Sandra if her mother had not forgiven her.

  “Mother, I think I would like to know more about being a spy and the whole disguises thing. It not only sounds interesting, but something better than being a soldier.”

  Brogan put her hand on Emily’s arm. “Don’t misunderstand me. Being a spy means you would still be a soldier, but instead of laser rifles, you would use the weapons of your mind and disguises to accomplish important tasks for the rebels.”

  “I understand. And I know it would be dangerous.” She tilted her head and with a quizzical look on her face, she asked, “But why would you approve of me being a spy over being a rebel soldier. Both could involve killing.”

  “I know. But I also think I am getting to know you well enough to know once you set your mind on something, you don’t let go. I also know I won’t be able to keep you from becoming a soldier, if that’s what you want. I think you’ve inherited my stubbornness. Am I right?”

  Emily blushed and grinned. “Yeah, mother, you know me well already. But I like the idea of learning spy craft instead of being a soldier carrying a gun. When can we start training?”

  Brogan laughed. “Let’s wait until we decide where we are going before we set up a training schedule, okay?”

  Emily laid her head back against the body-molding seat, just as the train jerked to a start again. Maybe she could still help the Book Liberators but without having to serve as a soldier in the field. But, she still wasn’t convinced someone shouldn’t pay for what they did to her Mom and Dad.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A Scientific War

  Since word had been received about the decision to use sarin gas on the rebels, the BL general led his commanders in a plethora of brainstorming meetings, trying to come up with actions to either prevent the attack or to protect the rebels and citizens of Mexico City. A wide range of ideas were contributed, but nothing seemed feasible until Dr. Schneider spoke up at a meeting and asked a question, turning the whole discussion in a different direction.

  “Is anyone able to tell me more about the technique used for making the laser-resistant body armor worn by the soldiers?”

  One of the engineers, Bill Huddleston, who was involved in developing the armor, using the armor the Canadians gave to Brogan as the prototype, spoke. “As you know, it was this chameleon-like armor which led to Brogan becoming known as the White Warrior. With her white hair and armor, which changed to white in the blizzard at Papa Marco’s mansion, she was a ghostly apparition and terrified the empire’s soldiers.

  “Anyway, we discovered the armor is composed of a paint-like coating made from 21 different ingredients. Painted on any fabric it resisted lasers and did not even warm up when shot. Once we isolated the ingredients we discovered a light-weight stretchy polyester fabric worked best to absorb the coating and still retain its stretch.”

  “And why is this important to you, Professor?” the general asked.

  “What if we could use the mixture to cover a huge dome, or a bunch of small ones, to be erected over the major populations centers in Mexico City? We could figure out a way to produce or store oxygen inside the domes. I’ve read up on sarin gas. It has a short shelf-life and dissipates and is harmless after a few weeks.”

  There was silence as the group of rebel commanders considered the possibilities and realities associated with building the domes.

  The professor continued, “I read about one of the first domes developed in Dubai, Saudi Arabia, more than a hundred years ago. It took them over ten years to build it, but I think there might be ways to shorten the time. If the dome is retractable and composed of millions of pieces of light-weight material, covered in the same coating as used for the armor, it should make the dome impervious to bombing attacks and the sarin gas. We have a bit of head start since we already have one large dome over part of the city. Obviously, there would need to be a way to pressure seal everything to keep out the gas.”

  Everyone in the room was familiar with the dome concept. Many of them fled from major metropolitan areas where domes were prevalent and primarily used for climate control. A buzz of conversation started as the professor paused.

  “Hold on, everyone,” General Veracruz commanded, “Let’s think this through. Professor, you may have hit on the solution. We could use the current dome for testing the coating while we construct more. We have many engineers in the room. It sounds like this may be the most viable solution, but it also means we have our work cut out for us. Professor can some of the other scientists on your team focus on this exclusively?”

  “I hate to give them up from the other projects they are working on, but it is probably necessary.”

  Before the professor could continue, Max, the general’s father, spoke up. “While we are working on the feasibility of the dome idea, why don’t we have some of the engineers work on ways to build some type of cannons on the top of the dome, or just inside it, with openings for the barrels, air-tight, to use to shoot down the planes delivering the gas?”

  Murmurs now exploded into multiple conversations. “Attention!” the general yelled. “Dispense with the chatter.”

  As the group fell silent, attendees looked expectantly at him for orders.

  “Okay, it sounds like there is agree
ment. Bill and professor, you guys oversee the project. Recruit as many engineers, scientists and grunt workers as you need. Give me construction and completion timetables as soon as you can. Is everyone in agreement?

  “Oh, and to cut down on the number of people we need to fit into the dome, I think we are going to have to begin now to evacuate as many people as we can further south, away from Mexico City. Agree?”

  It was unanimous. And so, began the most ambitious and rapid dome construction projects ever seen in the American Empire. Hopefully, they would complete everything they needed before the king and queen delivered their deadly arsenal of sarin gas. The professor hoped his new gamma ray guns could be used as the weapons needed to shoot down the planes delivering the gas. He and his team had their work cut out for them.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Plans for a New Life

  A month passed after the family returned to Tegucigalpa. Brogan and Emily spent every day together, strengthening their bond. They talked often about Brogan’s vision for a new life. She also talked a lot with Papa Marco, whose support and insight were invaluable.

  When Brogan was ready to present her ideas to her family of a non-violent approach to defeating the emperor, Maria agreed to host a dinner party at the hacienda. After the dinner, Brogan would explain what she wanted to do.

  It was early fall. But, so close to the equator, it was still warm and humid. Maria and her team of server robots and servants set up tables in the large gazebo in the backyard. Her love for flowers was evident. The backyard was a verdant garden with a riot of color from native plants and flowers in artful but casually landscaped areas, inviting strollers to relax and soak in the subtle smells and beauty.