“What if he journeyed so far to request our assistance? Will you relay his plea to the Federation Council? This might turn out to be a job for the Force, not the Warriors.”
“Maybe,” Blade conceded. The Federation leaders had formed an elite tactical unit composed of a volunteer from each Federation faction and dubbed this unit the Freedom Force. Whenever the leaders received word of a possible threat to the safety of the Federation, the Force was dispatched to investigate and deal with the problem, if necessary. Due to his widely acknowledged expertise in such matters, Blade had been picked to be the head of the Force. He now spent, on average, a week out of each month in Los Angeles, where the Force facility was located, and the remaining three weeks at the Home with his wife and son. If an emergency arose during those weeks, the governor of California would immediately dispatch a Hurricane, a jet possessing vertical-takeoff-and-landing capability, to pick him up. The VTOLs normally flew a regular shuttle service between the Federation factions. “We won’t know until we talk to him.”
“I hope, for your sake, that the reason for his being here won’t entail another run into the Outlands.”
Blade made a snorting noise. “Ever heard of a guy named Murphy?”
Chapter Three
“How are you feeling?” Plato inquired.
“Much better, thank you,” Andrew Wolski replied. He lay on the cot with three plump white pillows propped under his shoulders. “That Healer did a great job of bandaging me up. And after the venison soup I ate, I feel terrific.”
“Then you’re ready to talk?”
“I was ready when I got here, but I wasn’t in the best of shape,” Andrew said. To his left stood the Family Leader. On his right, side by side, were the giant and the man in blue.
“You mentioned that you came looking for us,” Blade stated. “Why?”
Andrew frowned and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them and gazed at the head Warrior, they were filled with a profound inner sadness. “It’s my wife and daughter. I need your help or they’ll die.”
Blade and Plato exchanged glances.
“Start at the beginning,” the giant directed. “Tell us everything.”
“Okay. You’ll need some background first,” Andrew said, and launched into his tale. “I’ve been a farmer all of my life. I was raised on a farm west of Green Bay, and I took over the farm after my parents were killed in a freak accident. They were coming back from a neighbor’s in a buggy and something must have spooked their team. When they didn’t return on time, a search got underway.” He paused. “We found the buggy smashed to bits against a tree. Their bodies were in the wreckage.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Plato tactfully asked, hoping to take Wolski’s mind off the tragic mishap.
“One of each,” Andrew responded. “My sister married a guy who lives about twenty miles from our place. He’s a farmer too. My younger brother tired of the farming life and took off. I don’t know if he ever found what he was looking for because I never heard from him again.”
“How long ago did he leave?” Plato queried.
“Sixteen years ago. I expect he’s dead by now.”
“How does all of this relate to your wife and daughter?” Blade interjected.
Andrew looked up. “I’m getting to that. Fourteen years ago I met the most beautiful woman who ever lived, Sandra. And I don’t mean the kind of beauty that’s only skin deep either. She’s beautiful inside, where it really counts.”
“Any man who finds the ideal love of his life is indeed fortunate,” Plato commented.
“Sandra and I were inseparable. I live just to make her happy,” Andrew said. “Our daughter, Nadine, was born nine months after our wedding.
She’s our only child. Not that we haven’t tried to have more.”
“And Sandra and Nadine are in danger?” Blade prompted.
Andrew nodded. “The Mad Scientist has them.”
The giant’s eyebrows arched. “The who?”
“The Mad Scientist is the name we’ve given to the bastard who showed up in Green Bay about six months ago,” Andrew disclosed. “You see, until the madman arrived, we didn’t have any major problems. Oh, we had our share of scavengers and mutations and whatnot. But not the sheer terror we have now. We grew our crops and traded for whatever we needed with the Indians and the townspeople.”
“Just a second,” Plato interrupted. “There are a few facts that require clarification. Who controls Green Bay?”
“The Mad Scientist does now, but before he came no one did. There were people living there, but they weren’t very organized. They lived hand to mouth by scrounging items they found in all the abandoned buildings.
Green Bay wasn’t hit during the war, but most of the folks left. My grandfather told me they were forced to leave by the government and taken somewhere else. The city is rundown. Most of the stores and houses are falling apart. Rats and cockroaches are everywhere,” Andrew said distastefully. “I don’t see how anyone could live there.”
“Where do the Indians live?” Plato probed.
“I wish I had a map,” Andrew stated.
“We can get one,” Blade offered.
“I won’t need it. Just follow me on this. The city of Green Bay is located at the south end of Green Bay. Due west of the city—bordering it, in fact—is the Oneida Indian Reservation, which is only about ten miles wide. Just west of the Reservation, near a deserted town called Seymour, is where I have my farm.”
“I take it the Oneida Indians stayed on the reservations after the war?”
Plato inquired.
“Most did. They don’t like to refer to it as a reservation, though. To them, it’s just their land. They’re very peaceful and have never caused any trouble for the farmers and ranchers.”
“Go on with your story,” Plato said.
“Okay. About six months ago a rumor started circulating that a strange man had shown up in Green Bay with an escort of forty soldiers and taken over the old University of Wisconsin campus.”
“Soldiers?” Blade repeated.
“Yeah.” Andrew nodded. “Technics.”
For the first time since the conversation commenced, Yama stirred. He straightened and stepped closer to the cot. “How do you know these soldiers are Technics?”
“The farmers in my area deal with the Technics on a regular basis.
Those sons of bitches are always in the market for food to feed the people they have crammed in Technic City. We know Technic soldiers when we see them,” Andrew assured him. “Anyway, the guy who took over the college had a barbed-wire fence erected and signs posted to keep everyone out. He warned the people living in the city to stay away under penalty of death.”
“What is this guy’s name?” Blade queried.
“No one knows. He’s real secretive. All we do know is that he’s involved in some kind of scientific research. That’s why everybody started calling him the Mad Scientist.”
“How do you know he’s engaged in research?” Plato questioned.
“Because he let it slip. When he first arrived, some of the city folk went to pay him a visit. He joked that if they didn’t mind their own business, they’d be sorry. Told them the research he was doing might be contagious, then laughed.”
“You’re certain about this?” Plato asked, pressing him.
“Positive. I talked to a couple who were there.”
Yama leaned forward. “And you’re sure this scientist is tied in with the Technics?”
Andrew scowled. “How many times do I have to tell you? Let me spell it out. Green Bay drains into Lake Michigan, in case you didn’t know, and on the south end of Lake Michigan, only two hundred miles away, is Technic city. Or Chicago, as they used to call it. The Technics have contacted farmers all along the lake, offering to trade for crops. I’ve dealt with them dozens of times.”