“I know. Which is another reason I wanted the ideal nominee.”
“So how long do you intend to keep me in suspense?”
Blade looked at his mentor and grinned. “I plan to sponsor Achilles.”
The Family Leader suddenly halted, then checked to ensure none of the other Family members were within hearing range. “Now you’re the one who is kidding, I trust.”
“Nope,” Blade replied, resting his hands on his hips.
“Achilles?” Plato repeated the name, speaking with the same inflection he might employ to discuss a plague.
“What’s wrong with him? His Tegner instructor reports that Achilles has mastered karate,” Blade said, referring to the Elder responsible for teaching the martial arts. Among the countless books in the Family library were two dozen on hand-to-hand combat written by a man named Bruce Tegner. Each of the books contained precise, detailed instructions and diagrams, and included photographs of each stance, position, and movement. There were Tegner books on karate, judo, jujitsu, aikido, kung fu, savate, jukado, and many other styles of martial combat. The Tegner books were used as the basic source of tutelage in unarmed fighting, and the training classes, which were taught by an Elder who was a former Warrior, had become known as Tegner sessions, or simply Tegner.
Plato nodded. “I’ve heard that Achilles is almost as skilled as Rikki and Yama.”
“And Achilles has qualified as a marksman,” Blade noted. “He’s a whiz with an Uzi.”
“True,” Plato conceded.
“Achilles is quick and he’s deadly. I believe he’ll make an outstanding Warrior.”
“But what about his compatibility with the other Warriors?” Plato inquired. “Achilles has a certain knack for rubbing people the wrong way, as you well know. He’s opinionated, pompous, and egotistical.”
Blade shrugged. “Everyone has character flaws.”
“But Warriors should have as few as possible,” Plato stated. “Why do you think the Founder implemented such a rigorous screening process for Warrior candidates? The Elders have long prided themselves on choosing only superior nominees. Oh, a few mistakes have been made in the last century. Napoleon was a case in point. Overall, though, our record is exemplary.” He shook his head. “I’m amazed that you would contemplate sponsoring Achilles.”
“I’m not contemplating sponsoring him,” Blade said. “I’ve already made up my mind to submit his name.”
Plato’s forehead furrowed and he scrutinized the giant’s face, reading determination in the set of Blade’s features. “If you’ve already decided, then nothing I can say will dissuade you. But be advised. The Elders might reject Achilles. His nomination will spark a bitter debate.”
“I just hope the Elders will judge Achilles objectively and not allow their personal feelings to interfere with their better judgment.”
“We’ll do our best,” Plato said dryly.
“Good. Now that that’s settled, there’s another subject I need to bring up,” Blade mentioned.
“Should I brace myself?”
Blade smiled. “I want to discuss perimeter security.”
“What is there to discuss? We always have three Warriors patrolling the ramparts, and we keep the land cleared of all boulders, brush, and trees for one hundred and fifty yards in every direction from the four walls. Our perimeter security is adequate.”
“Is it? The Trolls managed to invade the Home once, if you’ll recall. A Technic demolition squad reached the top of the west wall before they were stopped. And the pair of hybrid assassins sent by the Doktor sneaked in and killed a Tiller,” Blade said.
“The Trolls were successful because we had grown complacent after so many years without an attack. Those hybrids came through the aqueduct at the northwest corner of the Home. Since then, we’ve installed heavy screens over the aqueduct to prevent anyone or anything from swimming in,” Plato responded, and gazed at the water flowing along the base of the west wall. “The Founder diverted the stream into the Home and channeled it all along the inside of the walls as a secondary line of defense. He didn’t foresee that enemies might use the aqueducts to infiltrate the Home.”
Blade watched a group of children who were playing tag in the commons area between the Blocks. “The important point isn’t how our security was breached, but the fact that a breach occurred. I propose to upgrade our defenses with a Canine Team.”
“A what?”
“I’ve seen them in California. A handler and a dog, usually a German shepherd or a Doberman pinscher, work in tandem. The dogs go through extensive training and they’re outstanding guards.”
Plato listened attentively. The Free State of California was an ally of the Family’s. They were but two of seven organized factions comprising the Freedom Federation, an alliance of scattered pockets of civilization in a world driven insane by the nuclear Armageddon. In addition to California, the Family had signed a mutual self-defense treaty with the Flathead Indians, who now controlled the state of Montana; with the Cavalry, a rugged population of superb horsemen and frontiersmen who governed the Dakota Territory; with the Moles, a reclusive group who dwelt in an underground city in north-central Minnesota; with the Clan, refugees from the ravaged Twin Cities who had relocated in Halma, near the Home; and with the Civilized Zone. Of all the factions, only the Civilized Zone could rightfully lay claim to being the direct administrative successor of the United States of America. During the war the U.S.
government had evacuated thousands and thousands of its citizens into the area formerly embracing the states of Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico, and Oklahoma and portions of Arizona and the northern half of Texas. After the government had collapsed, a dictatorship had arisen and the dictator had renamed the Midwest region and selected Denver, Colorado, to be the new capital.
“Governor Melnick has offered to send us a half-dozen dogs,” Blade was saying, “as a token of appreciation for the friend-ship between California and the Family. I’m thinking of accepting. The Dobermans and German shepherds would be a definite asset.”
“But who would handle the canines?” Plato asked. “The Warriors already have ample responsibilities.”
“I had this brainstorm,” Blade said. “What if we took six inexperienced candidates, six younger members of the Family who want to become Warriors, and paired them with dogs. We could train them to work with the Dobermans and shepherds and assign them to patrolling the perimeter. This way, we wouldn’t jeopardize our security by depleting our regular Warrior ranks, and we would be giving potential Warriors the opportunity to gain needed experience.”
Plato nodded slowly, once again impressed by the clarity of logic his apprentice demonstrated. “Your idea has merit. Would the novice Warriors be accorded full Warrior status?”
“No. We’ll think up an appropriate title.”
“And what about Achilles? Will he be assigned to the Canine Team?”
Plato questioned.
Blade shook his head. “I want him to be accepted as a full-fledged Warrior.”
“I don’t see why you are so insistent.”
“Trust me,” Blade said.
Plato looked the giant in the eyes. “You know I do.” He coughed lightly.
“So when will you submit your proposal to the Elders?”
“At the next meeting. If the Elders agree, I’ll relay the word to Governor Melnick on my next trip to Los Angeles.”
“Which will be when?”
Blade turned and stared at C Block. “I don’t know. I intended to head back in a few days, but my trip may be delayed by our friend in there.”