Deadman

I spent the next several hours pulling people from wreckage, dragging chunks of the vehicles into Julian’s lab, and helping to put out what fires I could. The Entombed and Nix located me quickly, but let me continue what I was doing, even helping me where they could. By the morning, the majority of the recovery had been completed. I stood by one of the cuts through the city and held my hand to it. The radiation coming from it was intense and familiar. The cuts themselves were incredibly, smooth, leaving deep impression in the earth that deadmen and women were already filling in with dirt, even as they were assessing what other damage had been done.

It didn’t take a Marshal to figure out that the weapons that the Shrikes had used were of the same origin as whatever had created the Cut itself. The idea that the Remnants had access to that type of technology was terrifying, but what was even scarier than that, was that they’d managed to attack Pott’s itself, and area everyone had presumed would be safe. Looking over the pilots I found that they were all wearing the same anti-radiation suits that I’d encountered before. In the past Leah had said that flying Shrikes was incredibly dangerous, and that the vehicles themselves were costly. Either she’d lied to me, or they were just that determined to hit us where it hurt.

Once we’d done basically all we could, Nix and the Entombed brought me to the Mausoleum. There was a single cut through it on the far right side, but otherwise it seemed to avoid the majority of the damage. That was a mixed blessing. The building itself wasn’t as important as the lives that had been lost, and from what I could tell, the attack had been focused on the residential portions of the city. I hadn’t heard fully counts of the dead yet, but from what I could smell, there had to be at least one-hundred casualties.

We entered the Mausoleum, finding white robes moving quickly around, and everyone as busy as could seem possible. I was escorted to the Honored Dead’s chambers and walked inside, where I saw all of them gathered, sheets of paper in front of them, board marked with chalk, and Mama standing in the center, a look of focused determination on her face. To the side I saw Solomon, he was missing part of his foot, as if it had been cleanly burned away. In spite of that, I saw a grim focus on his face as well.

When we entered, they all turned to us. Mama approached me, wrapping me in a big hug, and looking over everyone else. “I appreciate you bringing him, and we will hear his case, bring forth his accusers, and go through the proper traditions as soon as we can, but we cannot do so now. The first debate is going to begin in just moments, take him to one of the empty audience chambers and keep him there for now…and get some rest. I’ve heard of what you,” she looked to me, “what all of you did during the attack.”

We all nodded, and were swiftly spirited to a room nearby by one of the white robes. The attack, the risk of it, and the timing were all starting to make sense. The Remnants knew we were bringing a candidate forward, and they’d likely found out that the Khan was supporting her.They were…scared of it, scared of losing the one thing they seemed to crave beyond anything else in the wastes, the presidency.

As we settled, the entombed all sitting around me, but too tired to pay much attention to actually guarding me, on top of realizing that at this point their job was complete, and why would I choose to escape now, when I’d already had so many other opportunities. Just as I finished taking a long sip from my flask, my vision was overtaken by a message.

Welcome Americans! The first debate will begin in 10 minutes!

The Candidates who Qualified for this debate are as follows

Michael Masters

Mama

Gary Garyson

Please stand by to see what our potential future leaders have to say!

Well, I knew who two of the three candidates were, and had a theory about the last one that I hoped would prove wrong. I waited in silence with my jailers, wondering exactly how the debate would play out. Would it simply be a series of messages sent through the system, would I actually be able to hear the candidates when the spoke? Would I be able to see them? I hoped it wasn’t going to be the third, as even with the strides deadmen had made, Mama would be at a distinct advantage if people were able to see what she was.

It didn’t take long for me to find out.

“Hello citizens of the United States of America, and welcome to the first presidential election since @!*($&(&.” The voice sounded like it was speaking directly in my mind, a semi-robotic and vaguely feminine voice that briefly became a blast of static toward the end of what it was saying.

“Our candidates are Michael Masters, Mama, and Gary Garyson. We will begin by allowing each of these candidates one minute to introduce themselves before we begin the debate.”

“Michael Masters, you have one minute.”

“Thank you. I am Michael Masters. Secretary of Reclamation and leader of what remains of the true United States government. I will bring this country back into the light. Take back this country and return America to its rightful place as the most powerful country in the world. I will bring peace and stability to this savage land, and return the rule of law and order. Together, under my leadership, we can rebuild and reclaim our destiny!”

I gritted my teeth as he spoke. He managed to emphasize and phrase things so that his speech would take exactly one minute, without a second wasted. He likely knew beforehand what the rules of this would be. His voice had a kind of entitlement to it, like his victory was an inevitability.

“Thank you Mr. Masters. Next will be Mama. You have one minute.”

“Well hello dearies. I’m Mama, and unlike Mr. Masters I’ve lived here in the wastes my whole life. I’ve dug the harsh earth to scrounge up enough to eat. I’ve raised children here, and I’ve defended my land and my family with nothing more than a rusted our revolver and grit. Masters wants to talk about making things how they were, but he doesn’t even know how things are. He was too busy hiding in space. I know what wasters need, because I am one. I’ll never pretend to be anything else.”

I nodded along as Mama spoke. I was more than a little biased of course, but I thought here speech had more sincerity to it, and seemed more like the kind of thing the average waster would really listen to.

“Thank you Mrs. Mama. Next will be Gary Garyson. You have one minute.”

“This country isn’t Gary enough, but I’m here to change that. My opposition you’ll notice, isn’t even named Gary. The idea that a non-Gary can be in charge of anything, should show you how much needs to be fixed. I, Gary Garyson, son of Gary Garyson, will do everything in my power to make things even more Gary than ever before. I will turn this country into the United Gar-.”

“That is the end of your time. Next we will go into questions and rebuttals. Each candidate will have one minute to answer the question, then the other candidates will be able to provide a 30 second rebuttal.”

There was a brief pause.

“Mr. Masters. In the current United States. What are your plans for the Economy?”

That question seemed incredibly vague, but I supposed that made sense. The questions were likely pre-programmed back before the war, and they had no way of knowing what specific issues might exist at this point.

“To start, I will use my executive authority to strengthen the Patriot Point, and move us away from the primitive system of bartering that exists now. I will invest in building infrastructure such as roads that will allow communities to better reach one another and engage in stronger trade, protecting those roads with a police force to ensure that communities can trade safely with one another. All of this should allow for improved commerce and create economic stability within the wastes. I will-

“Mr. Masters your time is up. Mama, rebuttal.”

“You’re going to try to move away from bartering? Last time I checked, I can’t eat, smoke, or shoot patriot points. And how will you pay for this infrastructure? I’ve heard a thing or two about STAR territory taxes, and it sounds to me like you want everyone to start paying those.” I heard some mirth enter her voice. “Sounds like this poor spaceboy doesn’t know how things work down here.”

“Mama, your time is up. Mr. Garyson, rebuttal.”

“All this doesn’t sound very GARY to me, and if it’s not Gary, it’s garbage.” he paused there for several seconds.”

“Do you cede the rest of your time?” asked the announcer’s robotic voice.

“Gary cedes his time.”

From there on the questions went back and forth. Masters would speak in long complicated plans that clearly had a lot of research and were based in the America of old. Mama would tear his ideas down with some folksy wisdom and a put down or two, then lay out a simpler plan closer to what was already in place and worked. Gary would…add some flavor to the proceedings. I’d been to a settlement of Garys a long time ago, and I was very surprised they’d managed to put together enough nominations for him to participate. Once the debate was over, I felt like Mama had made a good case for herself. Whether that could overcome the propaganda and numbers behind the Remnants, remained to be seen.

A white robe entered a few minutes after the debate had ended. “The Honored Dead will see you now.”