“Are you crazy?” Hickok rejoined. “She’d kick the stuffin’ out of me.”
“The marriage expert,” Plato commented, smiling. He stared up at Blade. “What is this revelation concerning your impending departure for Seattle?”
“Didn’t Hickok tell you?” Blade asked.
Plato looked at the gunfighter. “Tell me what?”
“I was playin’ around with the radios last night,” Hickok divulged. “I received this emergency broadcast from Seattle, from a man named Dale.
He claimed he was being held prisoner by a mutant called Manta. Him and a bunch of other folks.”
“Do you believe the call was genuine?” Plato inquired.
Blade nodded. “It’s genuine, all right. Hickok said the man wanted a message relayed to Governor Melnick about the Cutterhawk.”
“The Cutterhawk?” Plato repeated quizzically.
“I heard about the Cutterhawk when I was in California,” Blade detailed. “It was a destroyer sent to investigate a call for help from Seattle. The destroyer never returned to California.”
“Did Governor Melnick send a rescue party?” Plato queried.
“No,” Blade said. “There was a lot of political pressure on Melnick to do something, but he refused. He didn’t want to risk more lives, and he definitely didn’t want to lose another ship. The Cutterhawk packed a lot of firepower. Melnick was worried that whatever took out the Cutterhawk could take out anything.”
“California has a large standing army,” Plato noted. “Why didn’t he sent a battalion north overland?”
“Like I said,” Blade replied. “Melnick didn’t want to lose more lives. And remember. North of California is no man’s land. We know Portland suffered a direct nuclear hit during the war, and Seattle was extensively damaged by a neutron bomb. Who knows what’s between California’s northern border and Seattle?” He paused, pursing his lips. “Melnick told me he sent his most experienced admiral in command of the Cutterhawk. He was shocked when they lost contact with the ship. There were close to three hundred crew members on board that destroyer.”
“Three hundred,” Plato said, gazing at the dozens of Family members going about their daily routines all around him. How would he react if he was responsible for the loss of three hundred lives? Small wonder Melnick was reluctant to commit more troops.
“How do you know Portland was wiped out?” Hickok questioned. “And that business about Seattle?”
“That’s what the records say,” Blade explained. “There were a few radio stations operating in rural areas during and shortly after the war. Some of the broadcasts were received in California, probably relayed from station to station.”
Plato looked into Blade’s eyes. “So you intend to rescue the captives in Seattle?”
Blade nodded. “I intend to try.”
“I commend your noble sentiments,” Plato said, “but I am leery of your logic.”
“You don’t think I should go?” Blade inquired.
“Not if there are other viable options,” Plato answered. “For instance, why not inform Melnick of the news when you return to California? He might be willing to dispatch another ship, once he is apprised of the situation.”
“True,” Blade conceded. “But think of the time involved. I won’t be ready to leave with Jenny and Gabe for a few days. If I wait and inform Governor Melnick, more time will be wasted while he organizes the rescue operation. And even if Melnick does send another ship, another destroyer or something else, they will have to sail all the way up the coast to Seattle. By then, all the people being held could be dead.”
“How do you propose reaching Seattle?” Plato wanted to know. “The SEAL?”
Blade shook his head no. The SEAL was the Family’s pride and joy, a mechanized juggernaut, a prototype developed by top engineers for Kurt Carpenter, an all-terrain vehicle bequeathed to the Family by the Founder to enable them to travel savely beyond the confines of the compound. “The SEAL would take too long. I’ll use the Hurricane.”
“The VTOL?” Plato said in surprise. “But that’s not ours. The aircraft is the property of California. Do we have the right to utilize it?”
“I have the right,” Blade stated emphatically. “I’m the head of the Freedom Force, and the Hurricanes will be transporting the Force to all hot spots. Seattle qualifies as a hot spot.”
“But what about fuel for the flight?” Plato queried.
“There is more than enough for the Hurricane to make a run to Seattle,” Blade said. “It can drop me off, then fly to California for refueling. I can arrange a rendezvous for the pilot to pick me up.”
“I notice you are using the singular,” Plato remarked. “Are you going alone?”
“Yes,” Blade responded.
“What?” Hickok chimed in. “The blazes you are!”
Blade stared at the gunman. “This job is my responsibility. I’m in charge of the Force. I’m pledged to safeguard the lives of everyone in the Freedom Federation.”
“You’re also still head of the Warriors,” Hickok noted. “And where you go, we go.”
“I agree with Nathan,” Plato mentioned. “You can’t go alone. Doing so would be rash and foolhardy. After all, the Family is part of the Freedom Federation. We signed a treaty with all the other Federation members, including California, a pact of mutual self-defense. We would be shirking our responsibility if we failed to aid the unfortunates in Seattle.” He paused. “Take as many of the Warriors as you require.”
“I can’t ask any of them to put their lives on the line for complete strangers,” Blade said. “The Warriors swore an oath to protect the Home and preserve the Family, not to defend California.”
“What a crock!” Hickok stated. “We’re Warriors, plain and simple. When someone needs savin’, we save their butts. If some low-down varmint is holdin’ a passel of people out in Seattle, then it’s our duty to teach the prick the error of his ways.”
“Eloquently phrased,” Plato agreed, grinning.
“I don’t know,” Blade hedged.
“I think your new job is goin’ to your head,” Hickok said.
Blade did a double take. “What? Why?”
“Why else would you want to go to Seattle by your lonesome?” Hickok inquired. “Be serious, Big Guy. Whatever is in Seattle defeated a whole destroyer and three hundred sailors. Isn’t that what you said? Yet you’re all set to waltz on over there and pull their fat out of the fire all by yourself?” The gunman snickered. “Give me a break!”
“You should take several Warriors with you,” Plato reiterated.
“But which ones?” Blade speculated aloud.
Plato glanced at Hickok. “Nathan, would you excuse us, please? There is a matter I would like to discuss with Blade privately.”
“You got it, old-timer,” Hickok said, walking to the west.
Plato waited until Hickok was beyond earshot. “You’ll leave tomorrow morning?”
“Yes,” Blade confirmed. “I need to spend at least one night with Jenny and Gabe. I owe them that much. Besides, I’ll need the time to prepare. I want to check in the library for everything I can find on Seattle. Old maps. The atlases. Anything. And I need to decide who to take.”
“Perhaps I can assist you there,” Plato commented.
“How do you mean?”
“I was late welcoming you back because of a conversation I was having with several of the Elders,” Plato said. “There is a difference of opinion as to your status in the Family now that you have accepted the post on the Force in California.”
“Difference of opinion?” Blade declared, puzzled. “Why? I can’t be the top Warrior and the head of the Force both. Pick one of the other Warriors to replace me.”
Plato made a smacking noise with his lips, appearing troubled. “I’d rather not.”
Blade studied the Family leader. “Why?”
Plato swept the Home with his right hand. “Because of them.”
Blade’s brow creased
as he surveyed the compound. “I don’t follow you,” he confessed.
Plato clasped his hands behind his back, sighing. “You have held the post of top Warrior for almost a decade. During your tenure, you have acquired considerable skill and undeniable expertise in your craft. Your ability is widely recognized, especially by the leaders of the other Federation factions, which is the reason they wanted you to head the Force.” He watched a young mother carrying an infant toward the infirmary. “Choosing a suitable replacement is not easy.”
“What are you talking about?” Blade rejoined. “I’m not the only Warrior with skill and expertise. What about Hickok? Or Geronimo? Or Rikki or Yama? There are any number you could choose from.”
“If only the issue was so readily resolved,” Plato stated wistfully. “True, all of the Warriors you mentioned are proficient in their own right. But none of them—not one of them—possesses the balanced personality traits you do. Each one is deficient in one respect or another.”
“I’m not perfect,” Blade noted cynically.
Plato stared at the giant. “As a Warrior you are, whether you realize the fact or not.”
Blade snorted. “Oh, come on!”
“Hear me out,” Plato suggested. “Let’s examine the candidates you listed. First was Hickok. Nathan is one of the best Warriors, I’ll grant you that. His speed with those Pythons is astonishing, and he had dispatched more adversaries in one-on-one combat than any Warrior except you. But Nathan evinces a disturbing propensity for impetuous behavior. He acts first and thinks about his actions later. Which in itself can be a strength.
But several of the Elders are adamantly opposed to having him as the top Warrior.”
“There are others you could pick,” Blade said.
“Geronimo? A sterling Warrior, but his leadership qualities are in question. Rikki? As a martial artist, he is without peer. And Rikki has been in charge of the Warriors on several occasions when you were absent. Personally, I believe Rikki would make an outstanding head Warrior. But a few of the Elders don’t, and I want to select a candidate agreeable to everyone,” Plato said.
“Then what about Yama or Spartacus?” Blade stated. “Either of them could handle the job.”
“Perhaps,” Plato said. “Perhaps not. Yama has never led the Warriors. Spartacus has, and he performed admirably, but his experience was limited. You must bear in mind an important fact; we are talking about a long-term commitment, a permanent change in the Warrior organization.” He paused, grinning. “Unless…”
“Unless what?” Blade asked suspiciously.
“Unless we can develop a standby system instead of selecting a permanent replacement,” Plato said.
“A standby system?” Blade repeated, studying the Family Leader. “Do you mean a temporary system? It won’t work. I’m going to be in California for a long time. Years, maybe.”
“But you could, if you wanted, return to the Home every month or so,” Plato commented.
Blade placed his hands on his hips and locked his eyes on Plato’s.
“Okay. Enough is enough. Quit beating around the bush. You have something on that devious mind of yours, and I want to know what it is.”
“Very perceptive, as usual,” Plato said, smiling. “Yes, I do have an idea I’d like to share with you. But first I should explain my motivation.”
“I’m all ears,” Blade assured him.
Plato pointed at a group of six children playing tag nearby. “Take a look at them. A good look.”
Blade stared at the children, thinking of his young son. “So?”
“So I have a supreme responsibility to those young ones, and to every member of our Family, to chose the best possible candidate as head Warrior,” Plato stated. “The safety of the Family depends on my choice.
Next to the position of Family Leader, the post of top Warrior is of primary significance. During a crisis, the top Warrior is empowered by our Founder’s directive to assume command of the Family. Our survival depends on the person holding the post. I have an obligation to the Family to pick the very best Warrior as head Warrior, and from an overall perspective you are the best Warrior.”
“But…” Blade began.
Plato held up his right hand, cutting the Warrior off. “Hear me out, please.” He paused. “All of the Elders are in agreement on this. You are the best Warrior, and we wish to retain you as head of your order. Our problem was to discover a satisfactory means of having you continue to head the Warriors while simultaneously fulfilling your commitment to the Force. We believe we have discovered a way.”
“How? Saw me in half?” Blade quipped.
“If we could, we would,” Plato rejoined, chuckling. “I even considered cloning, but I lack the scientific equipment necessary.”
“Cloning? What’s cloning?” Blade queried.
“A technique developed before the war, enabling the scientists to produce duplicates of living organisms,” Plato answered.
“They could make copies of people?” Blade asked in disbelief.
Plato nodded. “The procedure was perfected within a year of the war.
But I digress. The Elders have a proposal to make, a way in which you can remain as head Warrior and serve on the Force. The solution is quite simple. As you know, the Federation has established a weekly shuttle service. Since all long-distance telecommunications systems were destroyed during the war, and since none of the Federation factions possess broadcast facilities capable of linking us on a regular basis, Governor Melnick has kindly offered the use of the VTOLs. When they are not on a mission for the Force, the Hurricanes will run weekly shuttles between the Federation members, carrying correspondence and important dispatches.” He looked at Blade. “We want you to return to the Home on one of the shuttles a minimum of once a month.”
“And what about my responsibilities with the Force?” Blade questioned.
“Spending a few days each month at the Home will not interfere with your duties in California,” Plato said. “I realize the prospect of flying back here periodically might not appeal to you, but I assure you there is a method to our madness. By having you return regularly, we can justify retaining you as the head Warrior.” He paused and glanced around, insuring they were alone. “Such an arrangement would immensely benefit me. I will not be under any pressure to select a permanent successor acceptable to all the Elders. True, the choice is mine, but I want to avoid antagonizing any of the Elders if possible. A temporary replacement can be chosen, someone to fill in while you are in California, someone who might, perhaps, succeed you should you eventually opt to stay in California. But in the interim, I will be able to groom your successor, to mold him to acceptably fill the post.” He reached up and placed his right hand on Blade’s left shoulder. “You will be doing me a personal favor if you agree to this arrangement.”
Blade pursed his lips, then sighed. “If you put it that way…”
Plato brightened. “You agree?”
“I won’t do anything to jeopardize the Family,” Blade stated. “I know how important the job of top Warrior is, and if you need time to pick someone to replace me, I’ll do whatever you want to buy you the time you need.”
Plato squeezed the giant’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“So what did you mean before?” Blade asked. “About assisting me in deciding which Warriors to take to Seattle?”
Plato lowered his right arm. “You know all of the Warriors better than I do, their personal strengths and weaknesses. So I have a suggestion to make. Why don’t you take the three most eligible candidates with you, the three you consider as best suited to follow in your footsteps? This trip to Seattle promises to be fraught with danger, and could serve as an excellent testing ground for the three you select. Evaluate their performances and report to me after you return. I will accept your recommendation without reservation, and I will subsequently prepare your nominee to ultimately become the chief Warrior. What do you think of the idea?”
“I don’t k
now,” Blade said uncertainly.
“What’s wrong?” Plato queried.
“Do you expect me to tell the three I pick the reason I picked them?”
“No,” Plato replied.
“I don’t like deceiving my fellow Warriors,” Blade noted.
“This is not a case of deceit,” Plato countered. “Informing them they are undergoing a test would defeat our purpose. They might act differently than they normally would if they knew their behavior was being monitored. Simply conduct business as usual and judge them accordingly.”
Blade stared at Plato. “Why is it I get the feeling you’re just passing the buck?”
Plato grinned. “A wise leader knows when to delegate authority.”
“I wish I had someone to delegate this to,” Blade muttered.
“Which three Warriors will you take?” Plato inquired.
“I have to give it some thought,” Blade responded.
“There’s no rush,” Plato commented wryly. “You’re not departing until tomorrow.”
Blade shook his head. “And I thought Hickok has a warped sense of humor!”
Chapter Three
He was seated in the lotus position on a low knoll situated in the northeast quadrant of the Home, his back straight, his hands draped loosely on his knees, his eyes closed. Baggy black pants and a black shirt, both fabricated by the Family Weavers, covered his small, wiry frame. His Oriental features were crowned by black hair. Lying on the ground in front of him was a long black scabbard.
Blade slowly approached the man in black, reluctant to intrude on the other’s meditation. He walked to within eight feet of the diminutive figure and halted, waiting.
The man spoke without bothering to open his eyes. “I heard the jet arrive earlier. Please forgive my failure to welcome you. I was communing with the Spirit.”
“I understand, Rikki,” Blade said.
The Warrior known as Rikki-Tikki-Tavi opened his brown eyes. “Why have you sought me out? I’m not due on guard duty for several hours yet.”
Blade moved closer. “I know. But there is something important I must talk to you about.”
Seattle Run Page 3
