Blade studied the pair. Chicago was east of the area presided over by the Freedom Federation, in hostile country. No one had ventured to the Windy City in over a century. But during the last run Alpha Triad had made, to the city of St. Louis—during which they’d battled the Reds—he’d been told about a group controlling Chicago. What was its name again?
“We’re Technics,” Captain Wargo said proudly.
“Technics?” Plato repeated, puzzled.
“I believe it started as a nickname decades ago,” Captain Wargo explained. “You see, the scientists at the Chicago Institute of Advanced Technology refused to evacuate the city during the war. They dug in and used their knowledge to forge a new lifestyle. Eventually they came to rule the city.”
“And now they’re known as Technics,” Plato deduced.
“Exactly,” Captain Wargo confirmed.
“They even have several manufacturing facilities operational,” General Reese interjected.
“Really?” Plato’s eyebrows rose. “Quite remarkable. The war severely impaired the country’s industrial capability. How were your people able to overcome the handicap of a shortage of raw materials and the requisite work force to produce your goods?”
Captain Wargo shrugged, downplaying the Technics’ accomplishment.
“Oh, we get a little bit here, a little bit there. You know how it is.”
Blade saw Hickok’s jaw muscles tighten.
Plato nodded. “We must have a great deal to discuss. Why don’t we retire to my cabin? My wife, Nadine, can fix refreshments, and you can elucidate on why you’ve been looking forward to meeting us.”
“Sounds great,” Captain Wargo said.
“I’ll dismiss my men,” General Reese declared, walking off.
“I’ll join you in your cabin,” Blade told Plato. Then he looked at Wargo.
“If you don’t mind?” he added politely.
“To the contrary,” Captain Wargo replied. “I was hoping you would join us. And bring Hickok and Geronimo too. Alpha Triad should be there.”
“You know who we are?” Blade asked innocently.
Captain Wargo hesitated for a fraction of an instant. “Yes. General Reese told me all about you on the trip here.”
Hickok’s right hand had drifted to the pearl grips on his right Python.
Blade smiled. “Plato, why don’t you take Captain Wargo and Lieutenant Farrow to your cabin?” he suggested. “We’ll join you in a bit.”
“Fine,” Plato said, and led the Technics to the east.
“I don’t trust that hombre,” Hickok snapped when they were beyond earshot.
“Neither do I,” Geronimo affirmed.
“That makes it unanimous,” Blade said.
“What do you reckon they’re up to?” Hickok queried.
“We’ll know shortly,” Blade answered. He gazed up at the west rampart, at Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. “The alert is over!” he shouted. “Tell the Family they can come out of the Blocks! Post Gamma Triad around these vehicles!”
“That won’t be necessary,” interrupted General Reese, joining them.
“Just a precaution,” Blade said. “Standard procedure.”
“Yeah,” Hickok quipped. “We wouldn’t want one of our kids to steal a battery or a hubcap!”
“Have Omega Triad and Zulu Triad wait near the armory until they hear from me!” Blade yelled to Rikki.
“Consider it done!” Rikki acknowledged.
“Let’s go,” Blade said, and led them toward the row of cabins in the center of the Home. “What do you make of this Captain Wargo?” he inquired of the general.
Reese frowned. “He’s a real tough nut to crack. Doesn’t talk a lot, except when it suits his purposes. To be honest, I don’t feel comfortable around him. Or her, for that matter. I receive the impression they’re holding back on us, not telling us everything they should.”
“You too, huh?” Hickok said.
“President Toland feels the same,” General Reese disclosed. “He gave me a personal message for you, Blade.”
“What is it?”
“He said to watch yourself,” General Reese stated. “Use your best judgment, but watch yourself.”
“We will,” Blade vowed. “What are they doing here?”
“You’d better hear it from them,” General Reese said.
“Did they just show up in Denver?” Geronimo asked.
“No,” General Reese responded. “They showed up at a guard post on the eastern edge of Omaha, Nebraska. Demanded to see President Toland.
Asked for him by name.”
“How did they know Toland is the President of the Civilized Zone?”
Blade asked the officer.
“Beats me,” General Reese said. “The word has probably spread, though, even to the Outlands.”
“The Outlands?” Blade reiterated.
“Oh. Sorry. Anything beyond the boundaries of the Freedom Federation, whether it’s west of the Rockies or east of our borders, we call the Outlands,” General Reese informed them.
“Appropriate name,” Geronimo chipped in.
“Did you interrogate this Wargo?” Blade asked.
“No,” General Reese answered, frowning. “I wanted to give him the works, but President Toland wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Why not?”
“Because, technically, Captain Wargo and Lieutenant Farrow are diplomatic envoys for the Technics. They initiated peaceful overtures and established contact with us.” He sighed. “My hands are tied until and unless they commit a hostile act.”
“I can’t wait to hear what these bozos have to say,” Hickok commented.
They walked in silence to Plato’s cabin, the seventh from the north.
Blade knocked on the west door, and a moment later Plato opened it and beckoned them inside.
“Come on in,” Plato urged them. “Nadine is in the kitchen preparing food for our guests. Would you like some. General Reese?”
Reese patted his stomach. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m on a diet. I’ve got to lose about ten pounds. It doesn’t do to set a bad example for the ranks.”
“I heartily agree,” said Captain Wargo. He was seated at the living room table. Lieutenant Farrow stood behind his chair, her hands clasped behind her trim back.
Plato closed the door and took a seat across the oaken table from Captain Wargo. General Reese sat on his left. Hickok and Geronimo moved to the right and leaned against the log wall. Blade crossed to the table, but stayed standing next to Plato.
“Have a seat,” Captain Wargo suggested.
“Thanks,” Blade said, “but not right now.”
Captain Wargo shrugged.
“You were about to tell me the reason you wanted to meet us,” Plato prompted the Technic officer.
Captain Wargo leaned back in his chair and stared at each of them, smiling.
There was a phony quality about that smile. Blade shifted uncomfortably.
“First, allow me to congratulate you on the marvelous setup you have here,” Captain Wargo said. “It’s amazing, considering the barbaric conditions existing elsewhere.”
“Our Founder deserves all the credit,” Plato said. “We’re merely perpetuating a system he started.”
Captain Wargo glanced at Blade. “And what about the Warriors? Did your Founder start them as well?”
“Originally he had nine Warriors, but later they were expanded to twelve, and then, fairly recently, to fifteen,” Plato divulged.
“I couldn’t help but notice,” Captain Wargo remarked. “You have a Warrior named Hickok, and one called Geronimo, and others named Yama and Samson, to mention just a few.” He paused. “Where do you people get your names? We have a vast library in Chicago, and a mandatory educational regimen. It seems to me I’ve run across some of these names before.” He looked at Plato. “Especially yours.”
Plato nodded, grinning. “The Family also has a sizable library,” he told Wargo. “And many of us take our names from books in the library.”