The Slave Warrior

by Marilyn Donnellan

  “My subjects. I am forced to report to you the Book Liberator scum have gone too far this time. Not only have they made my pyramid uninhabitable with their explosive toys, but they severely damaged the nuclear generating station supplying energy to the Boston area. The only reason they could do this was because I was betrayed by a member of my own trusted staff and by my former consort.

  “Listen up, you Book Liberator terrorists, this is the last straw. I will hunt you down wherever you are. I will torture your wives, your parents, your husbands, your children and every person you love in front of your eyes and then I will slowly kill you, every one of you. You cannot escape me. I am the emperor. I will defeat you.”

  He was so angry, the veins on his neck stood out in vivid relief, his face red and his eyes bloodshot. His disheveled appearance visually fit the definition of psychotically insane. The holo disappeared. The couple sat in stunned silence.

  “Iz a lot to take in, iz it not?” the PM said quietly. “Et haz become quite clear to me, and hopefully, most of ze Canadian parliament, we can no longer maintain our isolationist policies. Et iz time we started acting like a good neighbor and provide you and the rebels with assistance. If we do not, who knows what thez maniac will do, especially if he knew about our capabilities. But before we discuss how we can help, tell me a little about each of you. I know you are a doctor, right, Allison?”

  “Yes, sir,” Allison replied. “I am working in the emergency department at St. Francis Hospital in Toronto, although my specialty is hematology. Before we left America, I headed up a research project in San Antonio, Texas, on blood diseases and their correlation to working closely with energy fields, like solar energy production.”

  “Interesting. How did you become involved with Book Liberators?”

  “I was in the process of finishing up my residency at University of Texas Austin when Marco invited me to a BL meeting. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

  The PM turned to Marco. “I know your parents quite well, Marco. We met several years ago, when we negotiated a contract for beef export via ze black market. They spoke very highly of you. It waz obvious how very proud of you they were. I also know you are one of ze original founders of ze Book Liberators.”

  Marco was startled. He knew his father had connections in Canada but didn’t realize how high up they went. He also didn’t realize how much the PM already knew about him.

  “Thank you, sir. By the way, Allison did not tell you the whole story. She was captured by Priest and spent more than six months in one of his terrible prisons near Boston.”

  “Oh, my,” the PM said sympathetically, “That must have been quite terrifying.”

  “I was one of the fortunate ones,” Allison replied. “They did not torture me because they needed my medical services. My friend, Brogan, however, almost died because of her treatment at the prison. We were fortunate to be able to escape.”

  “Do you mean Brogan Finlay-Douglass?”

  “Yes, sir. How do you know her name?”

  “Even up here in Canada ze White Warrior ez famous. I am pleased to meet zuch close friends of hers. I want to hear ze story of ze prison escape some other time, but right now we need to focus on how we might help. Obviously, I will want to eventually have my military folks involved, but I first want to hear directly from ze two of you what you believe to be ze most pressing needs of rebels.”

  Marco and Allison looked at each other. She nodded at him and he pulled out his vid-phone to look at the list they made. He didn’t want to forget anything.

  “Well, sir, there are basically four ways I think your government can help: weapons, soldiers, food, and propaganda. Here’s why. Captain Shoemacker provided Brogan with one of your pulse rifles, body armor and helmet. We managed to figure out the design and reproduce them for our warriors, but we need more. Thousands of citizens sign up to join us every month, but we can’t keep up with the need for weapons in our production. We also need soldiers, especially those who can train recruits.

  “Unfortunately, our citizens across the country are starving. Priest has so disrupted food production and supply lines out of the Chicago Province, thousands of people die every week from lack of adequate food. We teach rebels how to grow their own food, but the citizens in the metropolitan areas are suffering the most.

  “And, finally, we are really handicapped when it comes to being able to broadcast messages to citizens which cannot be overridden by the emperor. We are so busy fighting defensively against the emperor, we have been unable to focus our attention on any kind of propaganda war. We lack the type of communication’s equipment we need to conduct a propaganda warfare to defeat Priest. This means we also lack the ability to know where his soldiers are for us to conduct an effective offensive warfare.”

  The PM sat back, his hands clasped under his chin and eyes intense as he considered their proposal. Marco and Allison sat quietly, holding their breath. The PM sat forward.

  “Makes zense to me. Now all I must do ez convince Parliament it ez in our best interests to cross ze border and wage war against Priest.

  “Where are you staying?”

  “We are at the Shady Oaks Bed and Breakfast, sir,” Allison replied. “How long will it take to get their approval? Can we notify our people yet?”

  “Good choice. I know et well. Remain there, if you can, for ze next couple of days while I talk to my cabinet. Make sure my aide has your vid-phone number. I’ll be in touch. Don’t say anything to your people yet. Don’t want to get their hopes up until something ez definite. All depends on Parliament.”

  The PM abruptly stood up and shook their hands. The aide lifted the secrecy dome. Without another word, the PM and aide left the room. Marco and Allison plopped back into their chairs and took deep breathes.

  “Wow! That was easier than I thought it would be,” Marco said enthusiastically.

  “I know,” Allison replied. “I really like the prime minister. And he seemed serious about helping. Now let’s hope he can convince his cabinet and Parliament before it is too late for America.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  On the Move

  The pounding of trooper boots on the stairs outside her door awakened Brogan from a sound sleep. She quickly rolled off the bed and on to the floor, grabbing the pulse rifle she always kept beside her. She heard the crack of a door breaking as soldiers smashed their way into one of the rooms below her. Methodically, she pulled on her body armor and boots, grabbed her backpack and headed for the open window. She carefully looked out the window. It was still dark outside. Soldiers surrounded the boarding house. Someone must have reported them, or else it was one of the typical unexpected raids by Priest’s henchmen.

  If she remembered correctly, a ledge ran under the window. If she managed to move outside and on to the roof without being seen, she might escape. She carefully placed one foot outside on the ledge and then the other. She slowly and silently inched her way along the ledge away from the window, her body flat under the roof angled down past the dormer window. Frantically she looked for something to grab a hand-hold of to pull herself on to the roof as she listened to the sounds of screams and laser rifles inside the house. Hopefully, Mac and Herbert got away, their room on the third floor, one floor above her.

  It must be close to daylight, either that or her eyes had adjusted to the dark. She saw a row of solar panels on the roof, just above her head, with a dormer window above them. She grabbed the edge of a panel and started to pull herself up off the ledge. She froze as she saw the window above her open and a familiar grinning face, topped with bushy red hair, looked down at her.

  “Going somewhere, my lady?” Mac asked in a loud whisper

  “Help me up, you ninny. In case you haven’t noticed, there are soldiers inside and outside the house. We gotta get out of here.”

  Mac reached a long arm down and easily pulled her up. As she scrambled into the room, she saw Herbert sitting on a bed, his face white from fear and stress.


  “’Morning, Herbert,” she said quietly with a reassuring grin. “Ready for another adventure?”

  He gulped, trying to control his fear. “Ye…s…s, Ma’am,” he replied, his voice shaking.

  “Okay, Mac. How do we get out of here?”

  “It just so happens, before we went to bed last night, I did a little exploring and discovered an attic entrance inside the closet in our room. Follow me.”

  Mac hoisted Herbert through the trap door into the attic, instructing him to stay put until they joined him. He passed the backpacks and rifles to Herbert and helped Brogan up. Mac made sure all traces of them were gone from the room before Brogan helped him into the attic. He had made the beds, so it looked like no one had slept in the room.

  They found an old trunk in the attic, which they moved over the trap door, and quietly moved toward a skylight in the top of the roof which could be a possible escape route. They heard soldiers noisily checking rooms below them. They moved silently and quickly. Fortunately, the skylight opened from the inside. They climbed on to the roof. The boarding house was one of several old row houses, built right next to each other to conserve space. They quietly moved from one house to another across the rooftops.

  Just as they reached the end of the row of houses, the sun began to peek over the horizon. Mac pulled a thin rope out of his backpack. He tied it securely to a solid corner of a solar panel and they wall-walked themselves down to the ground, landing in an alleyway converted into a tiny garden. Trying to not bruise any of the plants, they made their way out of the garden to the street beginning to show signs of morning traffic. They transferred their rifles to their backpacks and nonchalantly strolled away from the boarding house. Brogan still had the old compass Scotty gave them several years ago to help her and Bryan escape from Austin City. She took the lead, headed West. Springfield was not a large suburb; it wasn’t long before they arrived at the outskirts. They stopped at a roadside food stand and ate a breakfast of pasties and coffee under a grove of trees, sitting at an old-fashioned picnic table.

  “That was a close one,” Mac said with his trademark grin, “Now what, boss lady?”

  Without saying a word, Brogan pulled out the well-worn atlas, another gift from Scotty, and traced her finger from Springfield to Laredo, calculating in her head the number of miles to Laredo, TX. She finished with her calculations and looked up at her two companions.

  “It is over 1,900 miles to Laredo from here. We obviously cannot walk that far so we need to figure out another mode of travel. Any ideas?”

  Herbert spoke first. “I never said anything before because I didn’t want to use them until we needed them. But, I have several forged T-chips with me. I made them up after the emperor got his hooks into me, figuring I might need them if I had to escape at some point.”

  Mac and Brogan looked at him in shock. “You mean to tell me you’ve had these things with you the whole time? Mac sputtered. “We might have used them instead of the torture machine cycle. I ought to throttle you, professor!”

  Brogan laid her hand on Mac’s arm and turned to Herbert. “It’s okay, Herbert. It is good you saved them until we really needed them. And now we really need them. So, let’s go find us a train to ride!

  “Oh, and before I forget it. It is important we not look like we are traveling together. Remember the soldiers said they were looking for three fugitives? If we look like we are traveling separately, we will be less apt to be caught.”

  She gave them detailed information on how to locate the rebels, in case they were permanently separated. She led them to a convenient rest area and pulled out of her backpack some makeup, wigs and other items to use to build some disguises.

  “I’m the one whose mug is plastered all over the vid-phones, so I’ll make myself look as different as I can. When Sandra and I traveled together to Chicago, she gave me some training on disguises as well as the supplies for my backpack.

  “Herbert, the emperor probably knows by now you helped with the sabotage, so I’ll see what I can do about a disguise for you, too. Mac, I doubt if anyone realizes you are part of the saboteurs, but I’ll change your appearance anyway.”

  Brogan went to work. In record time, she turned herself into a male hobo, binding her breasts and adding some thick scars to her face and nose. She added some drops to her eyes to change her emerald green eyes to brown, slipped on a scraggly looking gray wig and rubbed dirt on the jumpsuit she pulled from the backpack. She kept the body armor on under the jumpsuit. Now she looked thirty years older.

  Herbert looked totally different by the time she finished with him. She shaved off all his hair, gave him a pair of old-fashioned thick glasses and a collapsible cane. She showed him how to walk as though crippled. His wrinkled and spotted tunic and slacks added to the hobo appearance.

  Mac shaved off his beard and Brogan pulled out a tiny package of purple hair dye and dyed all of Mac’s hair, cutting it and greasing it so it stood out in spikes all over his head. By adding some false tattoos, nose ring and other lethal looking jewelry, he looked like one of the gang-bangers who roamed the inner cities. She tore the sleeves off his tunic, revealing his bulging muscles. All he needed was to learn how to walk with an intimidating swagger. Mac’s change in appearance was the most dramatic. Brogan and Herbert had a good laugh at his appearance after she finished.

  “Be careful you don’t give somebody a heart attack when you walk into the rebels’ lair,” Brogan said as she choked back another fit of laughter.

  Mac blushed and tried to be offended before he started laughing with them. It was good to release some tension.

  “Let’s plan on meeting in the town square in Laredo one week from today,” Brogan stated as they finalized their preparations to separate. “And, if the rebels have already moved on from there to Mexico City, we’ll at least be able to talk about what our next move is, okay? If for some reason one of us doesn’t make it, keep going south toward Mexico City until you find the rebels.”

  Herbert objected at first to being separated from them since he never traveled anywhere, let alone by himself. Mac assured him he would be close by, just in case. Herbert gave them each two T-chips and small iron-lined pouches to store extras in. Brogan split the remaining money with them. They located the train station, placed T-chips in their thumbs, bought their tickets and entered separately.

  They would only change trains a couple of times, hopefully, with the whole trip taking 10-12 hours. Mac and Herbert sat in separate seats in the first car, while Brogan settled into the last car. It was going to be a long day, but it was worth it for Brogan who now headed toward home. She laid her head against the back rest and closed her eyes, wondering how Emily and the rest of the people she loved were doing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Return to the Battle, or Not

  Marco and Allison headed back to their lodging in Ottawa, hoping for good news. As they were finishing lunch at the B&B, a note from the prime minister’s aide was delivered to them.

  It read, “Regret to inform you parliament has refused aid to Book Liberators. Wish you the best in your fight for freedom. Captain Shoemaker will return you to America whenever you are ready. The aide delivering the message will provide you with anything else you need.”

  It was signed by the prime minister.

  “Oh, Marco,” Allison said with tears in her eyes and her hand clasped tightly with his, “What are we going to do now?”

  To say Allison and Marco were frustrated was an understatement. For three years, they pounded on doors and talked until hoarse. And no one listened. They traveled from Toronto to Quebec and back many times, trying to find someone in authority to talk to them.

  The standard response to their plea for help was, “Where was America when we needed them during World War III to fight the terrorists? And why should we help now?”

  When the submarine docked in Sault Ste. Marie, a week after their marriage on board the submarine, they excitedly talked about the possibilities of gai
ning a huge ally in Canada. It was obvious from the sophisticated weaponry aboard the sub, Canada had the capabilities to stop Emperor Priest.

  They communicated with Marco’s parents while on the sub, who were delighted to hear the couple had married and about their plans to recruit Canada to help the rebels. Fortunately, their emergency backpacks included enough cash to help them survive for a while. Papa Marco generously paid the Canadian government to allow them to hitch the ride to Canada. Apparently, he had a long-standing relationship with the Canadian government through his black-market trade. Marco asked his dad why he hadn’t told him about the relationship. Papa Marco told him Canada made the stipulation it must be kept secret.

  Whenever Captain Shoemacker had some free time from her duties aboard the vessel, Allison and Marco peppered her with questions about the state of affairs in Canada and the rest of the world since the war.

  “Ultimately our climate saved us during the war,” she told them after dinner one evening.

  “Since most terrorists came from hot countries, such as Iran and the Arabian Peninsula, they could not cope with the extreme cold in our country. Neither their weapons nor their attire adapted quickly to the climate. Our Canadian Royal Mounties surreptitiously led them into the mountains. They got lost and eventually froze to death. They tried bombing some of our major cities, but with few exceptions, our gunners shot down their planes.

  “While your prime minister established laser borders around your country and spent billions of dollars in building rail transportation systems and domes, we put our money into weapons, medical research and improving our infrastructure. Since we initially were deterred by your laser fences, there was no way to help you. Altero basically implemented an isolationist policy for America.”

  During another discussion, they asked about other areas of the world and how the terrorists impacted them.