The Daughter Warrior Read online

  “Does that mean you have given some thought to what happens next? I know your Dad and I have been pressuring both of you to figure it out, but it is because we care.”

  “I know, Mom.” Annette was uncharacteristically quiet before she spoke. “Maybe I’ll join the rebels. I think I would like to be a White Warrior.”

  Allison’s heart stopped for a moment. It was the last thing she wanted for her impetuous daughter. She swallowed the words she wanted desperately to say, knowing if she said them the girl would dig her heels in and get very stubborn about it, simply because she didn’t like hearing “no.” She carefully considered her next words. But before she could say anything, Marcus chimed in.

  “Ha! You’d turn and run the first time anyone shot at you.”

  “Would not.”

  “Would too.”

  “Stop it,” Allison said firmly. “Fighting with each other doesn’t accomplish a thing. Marcus, I didn’t hear Annette make fun of you wanting to go to university, so you need to give her the same respect.”

  Marcus hung his head. “You are right, Mother. Sorry, Annette.”

  “No problem, little brother. You need to respect the wisdom of your older sister.”

  Marco’s face began to turn red in anger. “Just because you are a few minutes older than me doesn’t mean you are wiser or smarter.”

  “That’s enough, you two. It won’t be long before you will go your separate ways. In the meantime, you need to try to get along with each other as friends, not siblings. Now, Annette, tell me why you would like to join the rebels.”

  Annette didn’t hesitate with her answer. “I think it would be so much more exciting than going to college. And, I think I would be good at it. You know how much I love the karate class I have been taking.”

  “You realize how dangerous being a White Warrior is, don’t you?”

  “Sure, but I also know the rebels are trying to do a lot of good.” She paused again, an unusual action for the talkative, impetuous teenager.

  “I guess I like the idea of making a difference. You know me; not really cut out for school.”

  “You do realize just because you join the rebels doesn’t mean you won’t have to study?”

  “Yeah, but it would be a different kind of studying.”

  Allison decided it was enough discussion on the topic. She knew her daughter well. Maybe this was just a phase she was going through. She cleared her throat of the sudden lump as she realized her two children would be leaving home soon.

  “Let’s go see how your father is coming with dinner and then I have something to tell you.”

  The twins looked intrigued, put their vid-coms in pause with a swipe of their hands and eagerly moved downstairs to the kitchen. Marco was just finishing with dinner preparations. The food synthesizer was fast and easy to use, and the smell of the enchiladas made them even hungrier.

  As the family sat down to eat, Annette asked what the news was.

  “I’m going to Mexico City for a few days to work with the professor and Dr. Delis on a research project. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in time for your graduation party.”

  “Take us with you,” the twins chimed together.

  “Any other time I would say ‘yes,’ but you both have final exams. Besides you need to help your father with the party preparations.”

  The twins looked crestfallen, but knew she was right.

  “When do you leave, Mom?” Annette asked.

  “Right after dinner.”

  Marcus had been uncharacteristically quiet through dinner.

  “Are you okay, Honey?” Allison asked as she reached over and touched his arm.

  “Oh, I’m fine. Just not looking forward to you being gone.” A grin crossed his face. “Guess I’ve gotten used to having you around.”

  What Allison did not know was that Marcus felt very uneasy about her traveling to Mexico City. He had no idea why and why this time. She made the trip many times with no problems. He mentally shook himself, trying to dismiss the wisps of worry clouding his mind.

  Chapter Six

  A Spy in Transit

  The first two days of Emily’s travels were without incident. The train trip to Colorado from Portland was boring, although a trip which would ordinarily take eight hours, took two days. Twenty years ago, the trains could easily travel 250 mph, but now, with frequent stops to repair rails, and a reduced speed of 150 mph to avoid accidents, trip length was unpredictable, with frequent stops to clear the tracks or repair the rails.

  Fortunately, during her trial excursions as a spy, Emily learned how to sleep anywhere. The body-moulding pullman seats were quite comfortable. There were several food synthesizers in the dining car, making meal time easy.

  When she arrived in Denver, she was met by a woman about her mother’s age, although a bit shorter and stockier. Her frizzy grey hair was tied back in a bun and topped with a green beret. Her worn tunic and slacks added to the nondescript look.

  “Welcome home, darling,” the woman gushed for the benefit of any onlookers. She recognized Emily by her green beret and decided to pretend she was her mother. Emily quickly fell into the play-acting. “darling” was the correct password.

  “Oh, Mother, it is so good to see you.”

  As the woman leaned in to give her a kiss, she breathed her name to Emily. “I’m Sylvia.”

  Sylvia tucked her arm around Emily’s and strode with brisk steps toward the railway building.

  “Did you bring any other luggage?” Sylvia managed to ask with the same breathy voice but without seeming to open her mouth.

  “This is the only bag I have, Mother,” Emily stated as she held up her valise. As you know, I like to travel light.”

  “And how was Aunt Ida?” Sylvia asked loudly.

  “Oh, she’s fine. She said to tell you hello.”

  “I’ll bet you are starving. The food on those trains is horrible. I’m going to take you home and stuff you with your favourites.”

  “I am hungry, Mother, but the food wasn’t too bad. It will be good to have a home-cooked meal, though.”

  Emily tensed for just a moment as she saw a group of five marines at the exit to the train station.

  “Keep walking, dear,” Sylvia said in her whisper, then loudly continuing the conversation. “Your father is going to be late getting home from work, but I’ll make something for you anyway.”

  The pair kept walking and talking confidently, totally ignoring the marines. One of them, a rather large, ugly brute of a man with a big belly hanging over his belt, looked at the beautiful Emily and leered.

  “Hey gorgeous,” he called, “How about an evening on the town with someone besides that old hag?”

  Sylvia could feel Emily tense and gently squeezed her arm. The two kept walking, ignoring the man. They were almost through the exit gate when Emily felt someone painfully grip her arm.

  “I was talking to you, woman. It isn’t nice to ignore an imperial marine.”

  Without a word, Emily moved to the side and before anyone could see what had happened, she adroitly tripped the man. He hit the ground hard, banging his head on the cement floor.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. Are you okay?” Emily asked solicitously as she stood looking down with a horrified expression at the big marine.

  Dazed for a minute, the marine tried to get back up, his face twisted in anger. “I’m going to get you for that, Bitch.”

  But one of his fellow soldiers grabbed him. “Come on, Sarge. Leave the lady alone. You’ve had one too many beers. It isn’t her fault you are a klutz.”

  When the women were safely settled in a driverless robo-taxi, Sylvia started laughing.

  “That’s was absolutely brilliant! How did you do that?”

  Emily grinned. “Oh, it’s just one of the things my mother taught me about self-defence, especially against over-weight bullies like that one.”

  “Your mother taught you? She must be quite a BL rebel.”

  “You are so
right. In fact, my mother is the original White Warrior.”

  “No! I knew someone was coming from the Bl rebel camp in Oregon, but I had no idea it was the daughter of the famous White Warrior. No wonder you knew exactly what to do. I want you to show me that move.”

  By this time, the robo-taxi had pulled up in front of one of thousands of small living pods just outside Denver. The pods were an experiment after the war. With so many citizens homeless, the empire scrambled to find some type of housing. The fiberglass pods, shaped like giant eggs, were the inexpensive and virtually indestructible solution. The contours of the pods allowed the frequent snow to slide off.

  Emily heard about the complex. As far as the eye could see the pods in a wide range of colours, dotted the landscape.

  “What a sight,” she giggled. “Can you image what this looks like from a drone or an airplane? Must look like some giant hen laid a bunch of Easter eggs.”

  Sylvia laughed. “I’m sure it would. I’m so used to seeing them I don’t even think about it. You know they are portable, too?”

  “No way. How are they moved?”

  “If you want to move one, the company that made them simply comes and attaches wheels to the front and back and pulls them behind a robo-truck. They are small enough to move easily just about anywhere. I was told these were the more ecologically friendly alternative to the tiny houses made from wood in the last century.

  “Virtually all the pods are one bedroom, but I was fortunate to get a two-bedroom. It’s not a palace, but it is home.

  “Come in, my dear. Let me show you around and then we will see about getting you something to eat, first thing.”

  Emily was fascinated by the small home. There was an amazing amount of storage and everything was so compact it was easy to move around. Even at her height, she could still stand up straight in just about every area of the tiny house. The only exception was near the walls where the curves made it a bit uncomfortable when standing.

  Over dinner Emily got to know Sylvia better. Her partner and son had been killed in a marine raid on their home three years ago while she was at the essentials store.

  “At first, after they were killed, I was like a zombie; didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. Then someone suggested I join the Book Liberators to find justice for their deaths. It was exactly what I needed. Now I have purpose and will do everything I can until the day I die to defeat the evil empire.”

  As Emily listened to Sylvia’s story, she remembered all the other rebels’ stories she heard over the years, knowing it was their stories that motivated her to be a spy.

  “I am so sorry for your loss.”

  Sylvia shrugged. “It is what it is, and I’ve learned to live with it. What’s your story? What made you join the rebels, other than the fact your mother is the White Warrior?”

  Emily was quiet for a moment, knowing her motivations were not that different than Sylvia’s.

  “My father was one of the first martyrs for the cause. He was murdered because of actions by the emperor’s consort, Sandra Bernhardt. Plus, my mother suffered unimaginable rape and torture in the emperor’s prison in Boston. Both of those things happened when I was quite young, but I will never forget them and the impacts they had on so many lives. Plus, I’ve grown up around BL rebels my entire life. I knew I had to do everything I could to restore our freedoms to read, write and worship as we please.

  “My mother really pushed me to figure out why I was joining the rebels. As you know, she now leads a clan in the Pacific Northwest, committed to defeating the empire by peaceful means. The last thing she would want was for me is to join out of a desire for revenge.”

  “Sounds like a very wise woman.”

  “She is. Maybe that’s why the clan now calls her the Mother Warrior instead of the White Warrior.”

  Both women were silent for a while. Emily couldn’t stifle a yawn.

  Sylvia stood up. “That’s enough serious talk. I’m sure you are exhausted. I’ve made up the spare bed for you. You have an early start on the next leg of your journey.”

  “You have been amazing, Sylvia. Thanks so much for your help with the dinner and now a place to sleep. And thank you for sharing your story; it reminds me why we do what we do, right?”

  Sylvia nodded, impressed by the young woman’s insight.

  “I have no idea what your mission is, Emily, and I know better than to ask. But I know you are headed to Chicago City, right?”

  “Yes. But to make sure anyone who was on the train from Portland, or those marines we encountered do not recognize me, don’t be surprised if my appearance is changed when you see me tomorrow morning.”

  Sylvia was intrigued. “Do you need anything from me?”

  “Matter of fact, yes. Do you happen to have any men’s clothing around?”

  “I do. I haven’t yet been able to get rid of the clothes belonging to my partner and son.”

  She looked Emily up and down. “What are you? About six feet tall?”

  “Yes, give or take an inch or two.”

  “You are about the same height as my son. Let me see what I have of his you could wear. Do you want something casual?”

  “Yes, please. The more nondescript the better. I always carry disguises with me, but it would be better if this was a man’s outfit.”

  It didn’t take Sylvia long to come up with some beige faded tunic and trousers. The well-worn outfit even had some stains on it.

  “What did your son do?” Emily asked.

  “He worked for the grounds department for Denver City; thus, the stains.”

  “Perfect. Now if you don’t mind, I think I will turn in. Could you get me up at 7 am? The train is supposed to leave at 9 am.”

  But falling asleep was not easy. Emily was exhausted, but she was thinking through the disguise she would need for the trip tomorrow. Finally, about midnight, her eyes fluttered shut, and she slept soundly until Sylvia awakened her with the smell of fresh coffee.

  After breakfast, she returned to the small room where she slept, and which had obviously belonged to Sylvia’s son. When she emerged 30 minutes later, instead of a beautiful young woman, in her place was an old man who seemed to tremble on shaky legs.

  “Is that you, Emily?”

  “Yip,” a tremulous voice croaked, “But you can call me Delmar Noffsiger.”

  Sylvia was impressed at the dramatic change. Somehow, Emily had changed the colour of her eyes to a watery pale blue. The face was criss-crossed with wrinkles. Her black curls were now a silver grey and stuck out helter-skelter under a tattered green beret. Her son’s clothes had a few tears in them, which added to the worn look. On her feet she wore a pair of her son’s scruffy work shoes. Her now wrinkled and dirty hands held a collapsible, worn cane and she was stooped over as though arthritic.

  “Absolutely amazing!” Sylvia crowed. “I would never in a million years guessed you were the same person I picked up at the train yesterday. How did you do it?”

  Using the same shaky voice, Emily stayed in character to reply. “Not too difficult, ma’am, if you know how.”

  Just then a chime sounded on Sylvia’s vid-phone. “Looks like we better get going or you will miss the train. I called a robo-taxi for you. Do you want to take any food with you for the trip?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  How does she do that? Sylvia asked herself. If I didn’t know better, I would swear there is an old man standing in front of me.

  She shook herself out of her reverie and opened the door for Emily. Sylvia gave her a quick hug and sent her on her way, shooting an arrow-prayer heavenward, asking God to protect the courageous young woman. Emily turned.

  “Sylvia, do you think you could try and get word to Mother to let her know I’m okay?”

  “Absolutely. I can send it with the next rebel communication to Portland. I’ll make sure it is forwarded to her.”

  “I really appreciate all you have done. Thank-you so much for your hospitality.”

  Sy
lvia cleared her throat before replying. Amazing how this young woman had touched her heart so deeply in less than twenty-four hours. She waved good-bye as the robo-taxi moved away from the curb. She had no idea what Emily’s mission was, but she did not doubt the talented young woman could handle it. She had a bright future ahead of her, if an imperial soldier didn’t put a stop to it first.

  Chapter Seven

  A Failed Test

  The king had not seen the queen so excited in years. She was usually bored with everything. But Spencer had piqued her interest with the S-chip soldiers. And today would be the first test of their capabilities.

  Six prototypes were scheduled to participate in a war game to be held among the hovels crammed into the Big Dig. The Dig was a couple of hundred years old, originally built as an underground subway system. During the last war, it became a bomb shelter, housing thousands of people. The survivors continued to live in the Dig after the war.

  The rulers heard rumors there was a BL rebel camp somewhere in the Dig. The challenge for the newly named Artificial Intelligence Cyborg Spies, or AICS, was to find the rebel camp and destroy it.

  In a rare outing, the rulers decided to watch the action from an area just outside the Dig. Their luxurious and armoured robo-car was surrounded by heavily armed marines. The standard security cameras every 100 feet were tuned to the console in their car. Spencer told them the AICS he was testing would be wearing ordinary clothes, but they would recognize them by the florescent stripe down the back of their trousers. The stripe would only be visible to someone watching the vid-feed from the cameras through an ultra-violet screen.

  It was very early, the morning of May 1, 2155, when the AICS were released into the Big Dig. The king and queen watched intently. Within an hour, the AICS located the remains of what appeared to be a BL rebel camp. But no one was around.

  “How can that be?” the queen yelled, so loud the king winced from the pain in his ears.

  “Spencer, get your butt over here. You have a lot to answer for.”

  “Yes, your majesty,” Spencer replied. He was about 50 yards from the cyborg soldiers, so he could monitor them. As soon as he hung up the vid-phone, he decided it was time to retire. He knew what happened to generals who failed the king and queen and he did not want to be added to the tally of dead generals and citizens.