The Slave Warrior Read online

  Science, technology and mathematics soon opened new wonders of thought for him. Herbert discovered these subjects were easy for him to grasp and he began to devour everything he read. Mrs. Hess encouraged him and quickly realized Herbert’s untapped brilliance. She helped him get a scholarship to the University of Texas Dallas, where he started attending at the age of sixteen. He graduated with doctorate degrees in nuclear physics and mathematics before he was 25.

  The only thing holding him back from success was his shyness. Nothing Mrs. Hess did or said broke him out of his self-imposed prison of a poor self-image. Before she died, when he was forty-one years old, she helped him to get a job working for the government. Herbert spent the last ten years of his life headquartered in the basement of the pyramid in charge of keeping the government’s computer technology running. He didn’t mind the isolation and often spent nights in the office trying to solve a tough problem which might have appeared the day before in one of the computers. He gained great satisfaction from solving problems especially if he didn’t need to deal with people.

  He did not appreciate the empire’s ban on his beloved books. But with his computer skills he figured out how to find huge reservoirs of knowledge on his favorite topics. He hid the information behind unbreakable firewalls on his computer and read them whenever he wanted to.

  The day his life changed was the day the emperor saw him working on the computer of the new head of the public relation’s department. Focused on repairing the computer, Herbert didn’t hear the emperor come into the office until startled by a loud voice behind him.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  Herbert looked up and thought for just a moment his heart stopped. He knew his face turned whiter than its normal paleness, but he somehow managed to get to his feet and bow. He recognized the emperor immediately. Who wouldn’t? His vids were a part of every employee’s daily regimen of indoctrination.

  “Well, man. Speak up. Answer my questions. Now.”

  “Emperor, sir,” Herbert stammered, “My…my name is Dr. Herbert Schneider. I am head of your computer division and I am fixing a computer, sir.”

  Emperor Priest turned to one of the cyborgs.

  “Check him out. Now.” The emperor stood in front of Herbert and waited as the cyborg seemed to process something in his mental facilities. A digitized voice soon responded.

  “Sir, he is who he says he is. Facial recognition confirms. He is 55 years old and has worked in the pyramid as head of the computer division for ten years. He has two doctorate degrees. One in nuclear physics and another in mathematics. He is single and has no living relatives.”

  The emperor raised an eyebrow, stared at Herbert for a moment and said one word, “Come,” and turned and walked away.

  Herbert stood in front of the desk, confused. Did he mean he was supposed to follow the emperor, or was he simply telling the two cyborgs to follow him?

  One of the members of the public relations staff, a woman everyone called Mouse was standing in front of the transport tube exit. Like Herbert, she seemed shy and stayed out of people’s way. Obviously frightened at what she saw going on in front of her, she quickly moved back against the wall. Without warning, the two cyborgs walked over and picked Herbert up, one on each arm and carried him after the emperor. Herbert never could remember how he got from his desk to the emperor’s office. He must have passed out since the next thing he realized, he was lying on a huge white sofa in the emperor’s suite. In front of him, sitting on an ornate chair trimmed in gold, was the emperor. Herbert quickly sat up, trembling.

  Without preamble, the emperor said, “Here’s what I need from you. I want to build nuclear weapons. You are going to do it for me. Tell me what you need, and you’ll have it.”

  Now, a week later, he was supposed to give a report to the emperor on what he needed to build nuclear bombs. Herbert mentally wrestled with the ethics of the problem. He was adamantly opposed to nuclear weapons of any type. He read about the impact nuclear weapons had on the world during the last war. His studies at the university focused on nuclear power as an energy source. He knew nuclear weapons were banned for very good reasons. What he didn’t know was how he was going to get out of the hole the emperor just put him into.

  Herbert knew he was probably the only person in the entire empire who knew enough to give the emperor what he wanted. No one at the university had any interest in nuclear physics, so he needed to get special approval for his doctoral studies on the topic, and then only if it was in conjunction with another degree: mathematics. But how could he in good conscience now build nuclear weapons? Was there any way to delay the process?

  Although he had been alone all his life, the loneliness did not compare to the deep blackness threatening to overwhelm him the more he tried to deal with the ethical dilemma. He had no friends, which meant he had no one to talk to about it; no one he trusted. He knew the emperor was obsessed with destroying the Book Liberators, whom Herbert greatly admired. He did not want to be a villain. He would much rather be a hero. But he had no idea how to contact the Book Liberators or, even if he did, what they might do to help stop the madness of the emperor.

  What if he stalled? Then, in a rare, passing wave of depression, for the first time Herbert seriously contemplated taking his own life. If he was not around, the emperor probably could not build nuclear weapons. But, he realized he was too much of a coward to kill himself. Problems and worries swirling through his brain, he waited for the emperor to speak, just one week after his forcible recruitment to build a nuclear bomb.

  “Okay, report, Herbert?” the emperor asked impatiently

  “Your Excellency, I did some research and confirmed there are two basic ways to develop nuclear weapons: the long way and the short way. Both are based on enrichment of uranium. The old-fashioned method takes years to do, but a method called the SILEX process uses laser enrichment to speed up the process.”

  “Don’t give me the details. Just tell me it can be done.”

  “The only location close by where either process might be started is the old Pilgrim Nuclear Generating Station south of Boston. Without seeing it, I have no idea what condition it is in, and whether it is even feasible. Frankly, sir, I am concerned we lack the kind of research facility, scientists and equipment to make it happen, especially to do it in a short time.”

  The emperor jumped to his feet and grabbed Herbert by the front of his tunic, his jaw clinched, his face red and veins standing out on his neck. The emperor was a big man and still look liked the military man he once was, with a muscular build starting to turn to flab. As he yelled down at Herbert, spit flew on to his face.

  “I don’t want to hear what cannot be done. I want to hear it can be done, do you understand me? Now get out of here and get started. I don’t want any excuses. Requisition whomever and whatever you need. Go to Pilgrim and bring me back a more positive message next week. And take one of these cyborgs with you.”

  He threw Herbert across the room and marched into his bedroom. Fortunately, the thick carpet cushioned Herbert’s fall, but he knew he would be very sore where his shoulder connected with the corner of the bar where he landed. Hopefully nothing broke. He shakily stood up, rolling his sore shoulder, and headed toward the door, one of the unnamed cyborgs following close on his heels. What was he going to do now? He had no way to contact the Book Liberators with a cyborg as a constant companion.

  The emperor insisted he move into what he was told had been Marco Anton’s apartment, instructing an aide to move his belongings there from his current apartment. It turned out Marco was one of the founders of Book Liberators and was now on the emperor’s Most Wanted list. He served as the former prime minister’s aide before the PM was assassinated by Priest’s consort.

  Fortunately, the cyborg stayed outside the apartment while Herbert paced the floor of his new apartment, trying to figure out his options. He knew the first thing he needed to do was to go to the nuclear generating station to
see its condition. Hopefully it would be in such bad shape there was no possibility of using it to generate plutonium. Shakily he started to put a few things he scrounged from Marco’s possessions into a travel bag, with no idea how long he would be gone. He sat down at his vid to figure out directions to the generating station.

  Suddenly a message flashed on his screen, a simple encryption he could easily decipher. His quick brain had always been able to solve puzzles and the encryption was child’s play to him. The message said: “If you are opposed to building nuclear weapons, we can help you stop the emperor.” signed, “Book Liberators.”

  As suddenly as it appeared, the message disappeared. Was he imagining things? He shook his head, blinked his owlish eyes a couple of times and looked again, but there was nothing there. He knew where to look to find the message if it had really been there. After only a few key strokes, he found it hidden behind a firewall. His heart beat faster; maybe he really wasn’t alone. He started to respond. But wait, what if it is a trap from the emperor? He sat back in the chair. No, that wasn’t possible. The emperor didn’t know anything about computers, let alone firewalls. It had to be the Book Liberators. Nervously, he typed in a reply, using the same encryption.

  “Headed to old Pilgrim Nuclear Generating Station. Meet me there. Avoid cyborg. 1800 tomorrow.”

  Suddenly imbued with a new confidence, Herbert walked to the door of his apartment, opened it and spoke to the cyborg.

  “Make travel arrangements for us to go to the Old Pilgrim Nuclear Generating Station this afternoon. I am meeting another researcher there tomorrow. Arrange overnight accommodations for at least two of us, including meals, for several days.”

  Without another word, Herbert slammed the door shut in the cyborg’s faceplate.

  That felt good. For the first time in his life, he seemed to be in control. Humming an off-key tune under his breath, he finished putting a few things together in a valise for the trip. He changed into a clean tunic and slacks he discovered in the closet, although a bit large, so he rolled up the cuffs and the sleeves. He splashed some water on his face and used a comb half-heartedly on his unruly hair. Within a few minutes, the cyborg opened the door without knocking and gestured Herbert to follow him. At least he didn’t need to carry on a conversation with the thing.

  While he waited for transportation, Herbert looked up a map on his vid-phone and saw the generating station was almost 50 miles south of Boston, on the coast line near Cape Cod. His research indicated the plant was built in 1972 at a cost of $231 million. The plant was shut down before WWIII due to recurring equipment problems. Eventually it was brought back on line and, because of potential environmental impact, a single reactor unit continued to be maintained with a boiling water reactor and a steam turbine generator. A minimum staff kept the generating station going for over a hundred years, generating enough power to supply a portion of the energy needs of the city of Boston. Now it was automated.

  Herbert knew without even going to the station the process of extracting plutonium to build a nuclear bomb needed a whole lot more material than what the antique generating station might provide. Even if he used a SILEX process, it would still take several years of work to develop enough material for one bomb, let alone several. But he also knew it wasn’t what the emperor wanted to hear.

  With the help of Book Liberators, he hoped to make the emperor believe they were making progress. Delay and misdirection might be enough until something happened to curtail the emperor’s ambitions. He had no idea how to connect with BL rebels, but their message to him was a start. He ducked his head as he moved into the robo-car. It was a tight squeeze, even as small as he was. He looked around wondering where the cyborg was going to sit. The door on the car whirred shut, the car started up and the cyborg trotted along beside the car, easily keeping pace as it sped up headed south.

  Now all he needed was to figure out how to keep the cyborg away while he and the BL rebel talked. He was clueless on the range of hearing for the thing. He was inexperienced and naïve when it came to intrigue, but even he knew this wasn’t going to be easy. He laid his head back against the body molding seat and tried to relax for the short journey. His stomach burned, a typical physical reaction to stress, so he popped a couple of acid relievers from a pocket in his tunic and tried to organize his thoughts. His research on nuclear weapons was so far quite limited. He understood principles, but not the practical.

  Suddenly, he remembered something he’d read somewhere: smoke and mirrors. He sat up straighter and tried to recall the context for the phrase. If he remembered correctly, it had to do with illusions used by magicians to misdirect the audience away from how a magic trick was done. That’s what he needed: some smoke and mirrors. He had to figure out a way to give an illusion of meeting the emperor’s requirements while misdirecting him. But how? The rest of the trip Herbert put his brilliant mind to work solving the problem. By the time the robo car arrived at a motel a few miles outside the nuclear generating station, he had the beginnings of a plan. He would spend the night at the motel. Tomorrow the plan could be implemented, with the rebels help.

  Chapter Twelve

  A Nuclear Generating Station

  Sandra cautiously peeked from behind the curtains of Claudette’s apartment. The trooper was still parked across the street. She grunted and motioned for Brogan to come and look. Brogan stepped over to the window.

  “How long have you been followed, Claudette?” she asked the rebel spy as she looked out the window.

  “Off and on since I went to work for the emperor,” she replied. “It’s pretty standard. Everyone who works there knows they will be followed at some point. We just never know when, or for how long. You get used to it,” she said with a shrug.

  The women talked in the apartment for several hours, discussing how best to deal with the emperor’s threats. Sandra did not remove the Aunt Pat disguise, just in case someone from the emperor’s security forces showed up. Claudette made dinner for them while they quietly talked about their options. Claudette told them what she overheard between the emperor and Dr. Schneider.

  “I sent Dr. Schneider an encrypted message, indicating BL’s willingness to help him circumvent what the emperor’s is trying to do. He wants to meet a BL member at the old Pilgrim Nuclear Generating Station tomorrow to discuss a plan he has. I can’t go because the cyborg will recognize me, so it will need to be one of you. Or I can recruit one of the local BL members if you’d rather.”

  “Sandra and I decided I’ll attempt to thwart Priest’s nuclear plans, so I’ll meet with Schneider. But I’m going to need some type of disguise. Sandra will go with you to the pyramid. She knows a secret way in. If you are willing, you can help her destroy the cyborg units being built and then assassinate Priest. But we are going to need explosives. Any ideas?”

  Claudette was a treasure trove of surprising information. She knew a BL rebel who was a specialist in explosives.

  “I’ll contact him tonight. I know he’ll be glad to help. His family was killed by the emperor’s soldiers during a raid on a small town north of here a few years ago. He has been begging for a chance for revenge.”

  The rest of the evening they crystalized plans. Claudette would not show up for work tomorrow at the pyramid. She and Sandra would enter the pyramid and attempt to plant explosives to destroy the cyborgs and then try to get into the emperor’s quarters and assassinate him. Brogan and the explosives expert would travel to the generating station under the guise of being Schneider’s research assistants. It was midnight before all necessary messages were sent, including a message to the general to let him know their plans. They decided to grab a few hours of sleep.

  Morning came quickly, and the warriors put their plans into action. Claudette and Sandra, still disguised as Aunt Pat, boldly walked out of the apartment headed for the pyramid, while Brogan quietly snuck out the back door into the alley, wearing her male disguise and now garbed as a street sweeper. She wore a dark blue, wrinkled j
umpsuit with the logo, AJ Sweeps, on the breast pocket. A BL member brought the jumpsuit to the back door of the apartment around midnight, along with a package of explosives for Claudette. Brogan pulled on a cap, grabbed a large broom the member left at the back door and half-heartedly began sweeping the alley. A few minutes after she started sweeping, slouching over the broom, a robo-van with the company logo on the outside pulled up to the curb.

  “Hey, Joe,” she heard a raspy voice yell, “Get your butt over here. You are supposed to be over on 7th street, not here. You keep screwin’ up and you’re gonna lose your job.”

  She shambled over to the van, scratching her butt as though she had all the time in the world. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the trooper parked outside Claudette’s apartment pull away from the curb, headed toward the pyramid, no doubt. She slowly slouched into the back seat of the van and saw a big man with the reddest hair and chin whiskers she’d ever seen, sitting in the front seat. His bright blue eyes and wide grin made her spontaneously smile back at him. He looked to be about her age.

  “Howdy, Joe.” He said as he reached back and stuck out his hand, “I’m MacArthur, but my friends call me Mac. And you are?”

  “Hello, Mac, I’m Brogan, also known as the White Warrior.”

  She laughed out loud as the overly confident grin faltered and he gulped and started to stammer. “You don’t mean it. Not the honest to goodness, real Brogan Douglass? But, you look like a man!”