The Slave Warrior Read online

  The emperor elevated him to a four-star position and Supreme Commander after the very successful massacre of the rebels in the Missouri farmlands more than a decade ago. He persuaded the emperor to build the synergy jet bombers in secret and use them for the battle. A pilot himself, he knew the lethal impact the small bomber jets would have on the rag-tag rebel army. And he was right. Pilots in reconnaissance jets, flying over after the bombings, reported at least half of the rebel army appeared to be dead.

  Since the success in Missouri, he worked with Major Grimes to tighten security around the emperor and whip the marines into units better able to fight against guerrilla tactics so often used by the rebels. Unfortunately, too often battles were determined by the vagaries of weather.

  Headquartered in the often snowed-in northern regions of Massachusetts, the marines were too frequently frozen in place, either at their home base outside of Boston or near Chicago City, their alternate base. Both areas had severe cold, wind and ice nine months out of the year.

  The emperor finally allowed him to set up large battalions of marines in and around Austin City, in the Texas Province, where the weather was more moderate. But there were still huge problems getting supplies back and forth. The hobos and rebels were constantly sabotaging the rail lines. Food production in the Chicago Province was diminishing as residents left the harsh weather and fled south to milder climates.

  It was true an army depended on its ability to get supplies. It was a huge issue and one they had to resolve if they were ever going to defeat the rebels.

  When America was divided into the four provinces under Prime Minister Joseph Altero during World War III, each province was designated with specific functions for the country. Boston Province, covering the northeastern area of the country, was the seat of government and the military. The Chicago Province was the hub for production of food in huge protein vats and dome-covered farms. Texas Province covered the largest geographical area and produced solar and wind energy. It extended all the way to the Panama Canal and transported stored energy by rail to wherever it was needed. California Province, what remained of it after Los Angeles and San Francisco were decimated from terrorist nuclear bombs, was one immense national park. The province included the former states of California, Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, Nevada, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming.

  While Austin City was an ideal military base, without a constant stream of supplies from the Chicago Province, they could not mount incursions into the southern areas of the Texas Province. The emperor’s spies located the rebel military base in Mexico City and a research facility in Tegucigalpa, both more than 900 miles south of Austin City.

  What research was being conducted at the rebel headquarters was still unknown and there was too much security for the spies to be able to get through.

  The immense passenger and transportation rail lines Altero built across the country after World War III, for transporting stored energy and food, was now a hodge-podge of patched rail lines. The BL rebels frequently sabotaged the rails, hijacking food and energy reserves for the starving citizens and rebel army.

  When Priest assassinated Altero more than a dozen years earlier and appointed himself emperor, he began a campaign of genocide against all Book Liberators and anyone unwilling to support his regime.

  It was up to General Hawthorne to figure out how to finish what Priest started against the BL rebels. And the emperor was getting impatient. An impatient emperor was a harbinger of death. General Hawthorne and Major Grimes knew this. They isolated themselves from everyone else. It was safer that way. Less chance of assassination. As a result, their common bond to follow without question the emperor’s commands frequently brought them together.

  They were without family ties so often used each other for sexual release. The major was a tall, beautiful woman, although cold and cruel. She was six feet tall, Asian, and slender. She wore her black hair cut short. She liked rough sex and since she had the exoskeletal treatments had become increasingly rough in her sex play, hoping to feel something.

  This was one of those time.

  “Hey, that hurts, Grimes,” the general winced as she slapped him hard.

  “What’s the matter, Jay? Are you going all girlie on me?”

  The general grabbed her and threw her on the floor, ripping off her uniform. She fought back, but he was bigger and viciously raped her while she laughed at him.

  “Still think I’m girlie?” the general asked with a growl as he stood up, zipping up his uniform after giving her a kick in the ribs for good measure.

  The Major didn’t even flinch. The exoskeleton made her impervious to pain.

  “Ha!” she laughed again. “You’ll have to do better than that next time, weenie.”

  The general stomped out of her apartment. “Why do I even bother? She feels nothing.”

  As he made his way back to his apartment in the underground bunker, his thoughts moved to the last communique from the emperor.

  “I want the Book Liberators wiped off the face of the earth. I want your plan on my vid-phone by tomorrow on how you will make it happen.”

  There were just a few problems with the emperor’s demands: first, they had to move marines from Austin City to Mexico City where the rebels were headquartered and still somehow maintain supply lines. Secondly, no one knew for sure how many rebels there were now since filling their ranks with new recruits after the Missouri Massacre.

  The general wished there was some way to communicate face to face with Emperor Priest, instead of just by vid-phone. But since his consort, Sandra Bernhardt, died in her attempt to assassinate him, resulting in the destruction of his partially built cyborg army, he isolated himself from everyone. As far as the general knew, the only person he allowed near him was the head of his janitorial service, Esther Longstreet.

  Maybe he could get her to say something to the emperor, he mused as he strode into his Spartan apartment. He doubted the emperor understood the impossibility of what he was asking.

  As his mind wrestled with the problem, General Hawthorne stripped off his bodysuit and skivvies, throwing them on the bed. He walked into the shower bay and ordered a hot, high-pulse shower. He scrubbed himself down as he continued to ponder the problem.

  The synergy bomber jets could not fly all the way to Mexico City and back without refueling, and there were no fuel stops between Boston City and there. So that was out as an option to destroy the rebels. He had several battalions of the latest models of tanks, but again there was the problem of fuel. And transporting several thousand marines that far was impossible with the current condition of the rail lines.

  Come on! Think! There must be some way to annihilate the rebels!

  He started to command the shower “off,” when he looked up at the spray and had an idea. It might just work. The emperor didn’t give a hoot about collateral damage. Now he just needed to find a scientist to make his idea happen.

  The general stopped the shower and stepped into the hot air nozzles to dry off, thinking about the pros and cons of the idea, but liking it more and more. This could solve the rebel problem once and for all, he thought with glee. Might even net me another star.

  General Hawthorne didn’t give even a moment’s thought to the millions of citizens who would die if his diabolical plan were to succeed.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Pain and Obsession

  The emperor was pacing the floor of his bunker in rhythm to the pounding of pain in his head. I don’t know how much more of this pain I can take. I may have to give in and have the surgery to remove the I-chip and lesions. I can’t think anymore.

  Out of frustration and pain, he picked up a priceless work of art and threw it against the wall where it made a dent before crashing, broken on the carpet. Immediately, a housekeeping robot popped out of a nearby closet and zoomed over to clean up the mess.

  The underground bunker was stark, compared to the luxury in his former suite in the now badly dama
ged pyramid. But, he would rather be safe from assassination. The bunker consisted of one large room and several smaller communication sites and apartments for staff, located deep under the Big Dig where thousands of citizens lived, sheltered away from the frequent blizzards in Boston City. Furniture was minimal: a bed, a small kitchen, a few chairs and a large bank of vid-screens where he could constantly track what staff and commanders were doing. He brought only a few of his favorite art pieces from the pyramid to add color to the drab room. There were no windows, only massive steel doors, heavily guarded and secured with laser gates. He hadn’t seen daylight since he entered the bunker more than a dozen years earlier.

  He called for the auto-doc, one specifically programmed to his DNA. The robot, which looked more like a garbage can then a person, silently entered the room from the same closet where the housekeeping robot stayed.

  “Doc,” he asked the robot, “What will it take to do the surgery to remove the I-chip and lesions from my brain? Is it something you can do without human assistance?”

  The garbage can clicked and whistled for a few seconds before responding in Sandra Bernhardt’s voice. Priest purposely programmed the auto-doc with her voice to remind himself of her treachery. Her death in the explosion, which permanently damaged the huge glass-pyramid, generated only anger and frustration when he did not get to kill her with his bare hands.

  “The surgery has minimal risk and it is feasible for me to perform the surgery without assistance. It is logical to have another auto-doc or human assistant for back-up in the event of problems during the surgery, as well as for recovery purposes.”

  “Okay, how soon can you do it?”

  “I am available whenever you request it. I can set up a back-up power supply to avoid shut-down of my systems during the surgery.”

  Priest pondered the auto-docs comments for a moment before asking, “How long would the surgery take and recovery time?”

  Again, the auto-doc made a few computing sounds before replying. “First, a brain scan is needed to verify location of the lesions. The entire surgery should take no more than two hours. Recovery should occur with two to three days of rest, depending on the difficulties encountered in the surgery. It is recommended a human assistant be available to tend to your needs after the surgery.”

  After some thought about who he could trust enough to be the assistant, he decided Esther Longstreet, head of his janitorial services, would be perfect. She had been working for him for quite some time, with plenty of opportunities to assassinate him but never tried. But before he went under the auto-docs surgical scalpel, he needed to talk to General Hawthorne and Major Grimes on their progress toward the Sarin gas production. He walked over to the bank of vid-screens and punched in their codes. Within minutes, their faces appeared.

  “How are things going on the Sarin gas production? When will it be ready for use?”

  The general saluted. “Your excellency, Dr. Delis informed me just this morning it will be another six months to a year. Apparently, due to lack of research information, he is needing to figure this out from scratch and the research and development are both taking longer than he thought. Plus, he told me there is a problem with keeping the gas toxic for long periods of time, since it degrades and is unusable after a few weeks. He is working on a way to keep certain elements in the gas separate until the exact moment of impact to maximize effect.”

  Priest scowled at the vid-phone. “I am not happy, general. You better have some good news for me next time I call. You are dismissed.”

  “Sir, yes sir!” the general replied.

  The emperor called his security chief.

  “Major, I have a need for some special assistance. I’ve decided to have the surgery to remove the old I-chip and brain lesions. The auto-doc says the only human needing to be in attendance is someone to help me after the surgery and during the recovery period. Has Esther Longstreet been sufficiently vetted to be able to do it?”

  “Yes, sir,” the major snapped her answer. “I’ve reviewed her background thoroughly myself. I can’t think of anyone more capable, unless you would like me to help out.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Get in touch with Esther and tell her I need her here tomorrow. Don’t tell her what for. I don’t want to take a chance anyone else finds out. Understood?”

  “As you wish, your excellency.” Grimes signed off.

  Priest looked down at his hands. They were shaking. It might be because of the lesions or his uneasiness about the surgery. But I have no choice. I can’t take this pain anymore.

  He stood up from where he was sitting in front of the bank of vid-screens and moved to the small kitchen. He dialed up a bowl of chili from the food synthesizer, but before he could eat it, he heard the auto-doc speak. He forgot to order it back to its storage area.

  “If you intend to have surgery tomorrow, you cannot eat anything for twelve hours prior, otherwise you could asphyxiate from vomiting while the breathing tube is down your throat.”

  Priest could see from the bank of vid-screens it was already late in the evening. “Why does everything bad happen to me?” he screamed as he picked up the bowl of chili and threw it at the wall. The little housekeeping robot popped out again and zoomed over to clean up the mess.

  The emperor plopped down into the nearest chair and started to take a couple of pain pills when he heard Sandra’s infuriating voice again. “If you intend to have surgery tomorrow, you cannot take any pain medication for twelve hours prior, otherwise it could slow your heart rate down too much.”

  Out of control, now, Priest stomped around the room, picking up any loose objects he could find and throwing them at the wall, screaming obscenities. He did this until he was exhausted and fell on to his bed and tried to sleep. The auto-doc calmly stayed in place during it all, waiting silently for the surgery time to arrive.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Janitor or Assassin

  Major Grime’s call to Esther Longstreet came early the morning of his scheduled surgery. She coldly told her she was to be at the emperor’s suite by 10 am. She gave no explanation. Before she could remind Grimes how terrified she was of the emperor’s temper, the head of security ended the vid-call. Esther knew she had no choice but to follow instructions. She quickly sent a coded message to General Veracruz, just in case something happened to her.

  She arrived by robo-cab at the bunker with a few minutes to spare, determined to not allow the emperor to intimidate her. As usual, she greeted the marines on guard and the silent cyborg inside the emperor’s suite. She was shocked at what she saw. The auto-doc was standing beside an operating table. The emperor was already on the table, his head shaved, an IV attached and other tubes and machines surrounding him.

  “Get over here,” the emperor ordered her. “You are going to assist the auto-doc with the surgery to remove the I-chip causing my headaches and the lesions. Then you will be responsible for my recovery care afterwards. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” she replied. “But I have no medical training.”

  “That’s not necessary,” responded the auto-doc. “I will provide the step by step directions for you. Let us proceed. First, the cyborg will help you put on a sanitary gown in the bag next to the sink. Then scrub your hands with the sanitary disinfectant you see in the tube. Thirdly, the cyborg will assist you in putting on the gloves to assist with the surgery. Be sure you do not touch anything not already sanitized.”

  Esther followed the directions, but her hands were shaking as she did so. Her mind was racing as she tried to figure out if there was a way she might use this opportunity to the advantage of the rebels. She was pretty sure the auto-doc would not allow her anywhere near the surgery site. Although she told the emperor she had no medical training, that wasn’t totally true. She studied nursing years earlier, before she bonded. Now she searched her brain’s filing cabinet for anything she might be able to use for the emperor’s demise.

  Then it hit her. If she couldn’t sabot
age the surgery itself, maybe she could cause an infection afterwards. She recalled reading instances of patients surviving surgery but succumbing to infections post-surgery.

  As she finished scrubbing up, she remembered the emperor’s problem with neglect of his hygiene since he moved into the bunker. After the cyborg assisted her with the gown and gloves, she walked over to the operating table. She glanced at the emperor’s hands. His nails had not been clipped or cleaned for a very long time. It was obvious he had not cleaned them prior to the surgery. Maybe, post-surgery, there would be a way for her to get him to touch the surgery site and cause an infection. With the surgery site in the brain, no doubt any infection had the potential to be lethal, especially if it was not caught in time for antibiotics. She seriously doubted this would be something the auto-doc would think about, since his focus was on the robotic surgery.

  The surgery went as expected: flawlessly. Esther did not have to do much, other than observe. The I-chip and lesions were removed quickly and efficiently. The entire surgery took less than an hour. The auto-doc gave her post-surgery recovery instructions and rolled itself back into the storage location.

  As the emperor began to come out from under the anesthesia, Esther quietly and efficiently responded to his needs. The auto-doc had instructed her to change the bandage the day after the surgery and to look for infection. Although the emperor was experiencing some pain, the auto-doc prescribed enough pain medication to make it tolerable.

  He told Esther, “The pain is so much less than what I was dealing with before the surgery, I almost feel like doing without the medication.”

  She was giving the appearance of struggling with the bandage while he talked, so she asked him to help hold the gauze in place. He reached his hand up to the incision site. Just as his hand got close, she dropped the bandage and his filthy hands touched the surgery site.