“Mystery number three,” Plato said.
“And who is this Minister? How does he fit into the scheme of things?”
“Mystery number four,” Plato said, waiting for Blade to continue. When the huge Warrior stayed quiet, he surveyed the three members of Alpha Triad. “You’ve each broached salient points,” he said, “but you’ve failed to stress the most perplexing mystery of all.”
“What’s that?” Hickok queried.
“Specifically, what type of individual offers one of his own people as a hostage, as a token, as a sacrifice, treating her life as callously as you or I might regard a mere fly?” Plato asked them.
“He must not think too highly of her,” Geronimo speculated.
“Or he thinks too highly of himself,” Plato opined. “Either way, I received the distinct impression this Minister is a calculating, cold-blooded person. I don’t trust their offer either.”
Blade breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Then you’ll recommend to the Elders we reject their proposal?”
“On the contrary,” Plato responded. “I will recommend we accept the Technics’ offer.”
“But you just said you don’t trust them,” Blade exclaimed.
“I don’t,” Plato admitted. “Which is precisely the reason we should take them up on it.” He saw the looks of confusion on the trio of Warriors. “My rationale is simple. If these Technics have concocted some sort of devious design, if they pose a threat to our Family and our Home, then it is up to us to ascertain the nature of their threat and eliminate it as speedily as possible. We could attempt to force the information from Wargo and Farrow, but they might not cooperate. Indeed, they might be unaware of the Minister’s plans. So what does that leave us? Only one recourse. We must, as they say, play along with them until we can discover their true motives and, if necessary, thwart any hostile maneuvers.” He paused. “You can see I’m right, can’t you?”
“Sounds peachy to me,” Hickok commented.
“I agree with you,” Geronimo said.
Blade hesitated. He definitely didn’t want to go on another run. Sooner or later, the odds would catch up with him and Jenny would find herself a widow. Still, as head Warrior, his primary responsibility was to the Family. If the Technics were a menace, then they must be eliminated. He sighed. “I agree too.”
“Good.” Plato smiled. “I will call a gathering of the Elders and we’ll discuss the situation. I’m positive they will concur with my conclusions.”
Hickok happened to glance in the direction of the kitchen doorway. He straightened and placed a finger over his lips.
Everyone turned.
Plato’s wife, Nadine, was framed in the doorway, a tray of sizzling venison soup in her frail hands. Her hair was gray, her eyes a compassionate brown, her face wrinkled and conveying a sense of noble character. She wore a blue denim dress, sewn together from the remains of a dozen pair of jeans. Her eyes were watering. “Is there no end to the violence?” she asked her husband.
“How long were you standing there?” Plato inquired.
“Long enough,” Nadine said. “Must you send Alpha Triad out again?”
“How else can we learn the Technics’ true motives?” Plato responded.
“There must be another way.”
“If you know of one,” Plato told her, “I’m open to suggestions.”
Nadine stared at the Warriors. “I feel so sorry for them. They are always going off somewhere or another, fighting for their lives. What about their families? What about their children? Don’t they have the right to a peaceful life like the rest of us?”
“They’re Warriors,” Plato said gravely. “No one compelled them to take their oath of allegiance, and they can resign whenever they want.” He twisted. “Do any of you want out?”
“Not me, old-timer,” Hickok said. “I’ve always had a secret hankerin’ to see the Rotten Apple.”
“That’s the Big Apple,” Geronimo corrected him. “And where they go, I go. Someone has to babysit Hickok.”
“And what about you?” Plato asked Blade.
There was only one possible answer. Blade knew it, although he balked at voicing the words. Plato had hit the nail on the head. No one had twisted his arm to become a Warrior. He’d chosen his profession because he firmly believed the Family’s safety and survival were of paramount importance. If the Technics were a threat to the Family, then, as Plato had said, the threat must be removed. “Alpha Triad is a team,” Blade said to Plato. “One for all, and all for one.”
“Now where have we heard that before?” Geronimo inquired, grinning.
“Then it’s settled,” Plato announced. “I will convene a special meeting of the Elders. If all goes as expected, you should be able to leave by this time tomorrow.”
“I can hardly wait!” Hickok said enthusiastically.
Blade balled his huge hands into massive fists. There was no escaping his destiny. As head Warrior, he had to go.
“Let’s have a quick bowl of soup first,” Plato proposed.
Hickok walked to the table and pulled out a chair. “Sounds good to me. I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse!”
“You’re always hungry,” Geronimo commented.
Nadine carefully placed the metal tray on the living room table. “Enjoy yourselves!” she advised them.
Hickok studied Blade. “Don’t get uptight, pard,” he said. “This will be a piece of cake!”
“You wish!” Geronimo rejoined. “We’ll be fortunate if we come back alive.”
Hickok leaned toward Blade. “Maybe we should leave Geronimo here this time,” he suggested.
“Why’s that?” Blade asked.
The gunman frowned. “I don’t rightly know if I can take much more of his rosy disposition.”
Chapter Six
Lieutenant Alicia Farrow was impressed, and it took a lot to impress her.
As a combat-tested veteran with seven years in the Technic Elite Service, the commando arm of the Technic Army, she’d seen countless soldiers over the years. She’d fought side by side with some of the toughest men and women around. So she wasn’t about to be awed by other professional fighters, not unless they were exceptional.
The Warriors were exceptional.
She’d observed their training sessions: their marksmanship practice on the firing range in the southeast corner of the Home, their martial-arts tutelage under the direction of a stately Elder, and their individualized workouts with their favorite weapons. Over the past three days, she’d developed an abiding respect for the Warriors. She found herself, despite her better judgment, admiring their inherent integrity and devotion to the Family.
It was too bad they had to die.
But the Minister had been most explicit. The Warriors, even the entire Family, must be eradicated. If the Technics were to assume their rightful place as world rulers, then every potential rival must be destroyed. The Freedom Federation was too large to be overcome in one fell swoop.
Accordingly, the Minister had decided 10 selectively smash the separate Freedom Federation members beginning with the Family. His reasoning was logical and sound. Although the Family was the smallest contingent in the Freedom Federation numerically speaking, it exerted the controlling influence in the Federation’s periodic Councils. The Family was becoming a symbol, a beacon of hope in a land ravaged by nuclear and chemical devastation. Wargo had told Plato the truth. Stories were spreading about the Family and the Warriors, and not just in the Freedom Federation but in the Outlands beyond. In an age when written and electronic communications and records were virtually nonexistent, fireside tales were the order of the day. Families would gather about their hearths at night, singles would congregate at crude “watering holes” where rotgut beverages were served, and in towns and settlements throughout the land everyone would exchange the latest information, the newest gossip they might have heard from a passing traveler. Serving as both a means of public dissemination of knowledge and a popular socializing entertainment, the stories grew as they were conveyed from mouth to mouth, from one inhabited outpost to the next. To some, the Home was becoming a sort of modern Utopia, while several of the Warriors had acquired mythical proportions. Ages prior, a Greek named Homer had regaled his listeners by extolling the herculean exploits of Achilles, Odysseus, Telamonian Aias, Diomedes and company. Now the cycle was being repeated, and the Minister did not like it one bit.