“Can we talk yet?”
“Of course,” the giant replied.
“If you’re aimin’ to go to Texas, I reckon I’ll tag along,” Hickok offered.
“This is a job for the Force,” Blade observed. “You’re a Warrior.”
“So are you, pard,” Hickok said. “I might not be a member of the Force, but our Family is a member of the Federation. If the Federation is threatened, then I have an obligation to help out.”
“We’ll discuss it later,” Blade said.
“Suit yourself,” Hickok replied, and headed for the doorway.
Blade watched them depart. He stretched and focused his attention on the man he respected most in the world. “What do you want to talk about?”
“You.”
“What about me?” Blade asked.
“You’re behaving oddly.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Plato studied the Warrior’s features. “I think you do. It’s not like you to be so reserved. And a minute ago you gave me the impression you were endeavoring to convince yourself that President Toland was correct, although there are legitimate arguments against his proposal. You simply reiterated the points he’d made.”
“He was right.”
“Was he?” Plato countered. “I wonder. Granted, you have more combat experience than most men, but Toland could use his own personnel to enter Dallas and capture one of those with the splotches. You’re not essential to such an operation, despite what the two of you said.”
Blade frowned and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the head of the Freedom Force. It’s my job to go.”
“The Force has been disbanded.”
“I told the Federation leaders I would be available in an emergency, and this certainly is an emergency.”
Plato stroked his beard, his keen eyes narrowing. “Why do I have the feeling that you are resigned to go no matter how many objections I pose?”
“I’ve got to go, Plato,” Blade insisted.
“Send Yama or Rikki in your stead. Either one of them can accomplish the mission.”
“No.”
“It has to be you, is that it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you view yourself as indispensable? Will the world fall apart if you’re not there to save the day?” Plato queried somberly.
“I don’t have a swelled head, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Blade responded.
Plato leaned toward the giant, concern etching his countenance. “Then why?”
The Warrior rose and began pacing back and forth behind his chair, his hands behind his back, his brow furrowed. “The last thing in the world I want to do right now is leave Jenny and Gabe to go on another mission, especially in my capacity as the head of the Freedom Force. Jenny resents the fact I joined the Force, and I know the news will break her heart.” He paused. “But like it or not, I am the head of the Force. I accepted the position, and I gave my word to the Federation leaders to do the best job I can. If I say no now, I’ll let them down. Worse I’ll let myself down. When a man gives his word, he should keep it.”
“Then you’re going out of a sense of guilt?”
“Partly, I suppose. I’ll feel guilty if I don’t go, but I’ll feel guilty if I do. If I don’t, and if they send someone else and the mission fails, I’ll blame myself. If I do, and Jenny becomes even more upset than she already is, I’ll blame myself. I’m caught in a bind, in a no-win situation. I feel like I’m being torn in half,” Blade admitted.
Plato did a double take, his eyes troubled. “I’ve never seen you this indecisive.”
“It’s like I’m running in circles and there’s no end in sight.”
“I see,” Plato said, and stared at the table.
“Do you have any advice I can use?”
Plato looked up. “I’d advise you to take an extended vacation after this mission is over. Spend a month with your family and limit your contact with others.”
“I’ve been trying that for the past six months.”
“Yes, but you’ve stayed here at the Home and attended to your daily duties as a Warrior. I want you to get away from it all. Take Jenny and Gabe to one of the lakes. Go fishing. Forget all about your problems.
Commune with the Spirit. Recharge your soul.”
Blade considered for a moment. “Jenny would be delighted. We could kick back and relax without interruptions.”
“Why don’t you go break the news to her?” Plato suggested. “The prospect of taking a vacation might alleviate her anger over the mission to Dallas.”
“You’re on,” Blade said with a smile, and hurried from the library.
Plato frowned and slowly stood. He walked from E Block with his head bowed so none of the other Family members could see the apprehension on his face. The sunlight made him squint, and he glanced up to behold Blade jogging to the east. There went the man he loved as the son he’d never had, the man he’d personally picked to become the top Warrior ten years ago. He’d taken such pride in Blade’s growth, in seeing Blade develop from an impetuous, temper-prone youth into a stable, resolute man, into a superb Warrior. And while all the Warriors were adept at their craft, Blade was the best of the best. Someday, Plato knew, legends would be related about the mightiest Warrior of all time.
Provided Blade lived long enough to provide the basis for those legends.
Plato ambled eastward, making for his cabin. He could still fondly recall the very first time he had really noticed the boy who would eventually figure so prominently in his life. Blade had been five years old at the time. Before then, Blade had simply been one of the many children laughing and playing about the compound. But one fine morning Blade’s father had introduced his son to Plato, and Plato remembered his astonishment at learning such a strapping boy was a mere five years of age. He had looked into the youth’s intelligent, frank eyes and marveled.
“So this is your pride and joy?” he had said to Blade’s father. “And he’s only five? Big for his age. I see he has his dad’s dark hair and abnormal gray eyes. There is character here. He will be a tribute to both his parents.”
And so their friendship had begun.
He recollected the anguish he had felt the day Blade’s father was killed by a mutate. Blade had been 20 at the time, and had taken the loss hard.
The Warrior’s mother had died while giving birth to him, and the loss of his father had filled his soul with sorrow.
Plato skirted a pine tree in his path, ruminating.
Blade’s father had been the Family leader, and his sudden demise had left a vacancy the Elders urgently needed to fill. Plato hadn’t been too surprised when they selected him. He’d known that Blade’s dad had favored him over all the other potential candidates. Once installed, Plato had returned the favor by nominating Blade to be the head Warrior.
Family Leaders were permitted to choose whoever they preferred as their chief of Home security.
So many years had elapsed since then.
So much had happened.
Plato would always be in Blade’s debt for rescuing Nadine from the savage Trolls. He’d given his beloved wife up for lost, and he still felt a thrill whenever he reminisced about the day he took her in his arms again after being separated from her for seven hellish years. Her return had seemed like a miracle, and he owed the greatest happiness of his life to the brooding giant he’d taken under his wing.
How ironic life could be.
And how cruel.
He remembered the epic struggle the Family had waged against the infamous, wicked Doktor and Samuel the Second, the men responsible for the death of Blade’s father. Only after the Family emerged victorious had Blade appeared to come to terms with the loss of his dad. Since then the Warrior had discharged his responsibilities superbly.