Deadman

After we finished our coffees and all got up to date on what had happened while I was gone, Nico dragged out the cot she kept for me and I slept off the ground for the first time in a long while. I was tired, but more from all the conversations of the last day than from my recent travels. Physically, I didn’t really seem to get tired anymore. Sure I ran better with a few hours of sleep a night, but I could likely stay alert and moving for a week or more without getting tired. Mental exhaustion though, was another story, and nothing drained me more than constant talking. I fell asleep easily, in spite of the coffee I’d just drank.

When I woke up, it was midday. I’d slept far longer than I expected to. The sun was pouring out of the nearest window, and I saw, on the ground next to the cot, on top of my coat, a new black wide-brimmed hat. I lifted it, and slid my hand across its brim before placing it onto my head. It was a more comfortable fit then the black cloth I’d had wrapped around my face when I’d lost my original hat in Eden. I made a mental note to thank Nico for it whenever I saw her again. I didn’t smell her in the house anymore.

I made my way to her small kitchen and down into her cool cellar where I pulled out a haunch of some creature, a goat I guessed based on the smell of it, and brought it upstairs to have with a fresh pot of coffee. When I was done eating, I heard a knock on Nico’s door. I went to answer it.

A white robe was standing there. He looked nervous, and as soon as I opened the door, he grimaced in pain and brought a hand to his head.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“No. It’s okay. Julian warned me this might happen. Supposedly the effects are going to be lessened the more it spreads, but,” he rubbed his temples, “That was a bit harsher than I expected.”

“You’re looking for me then?” I deduced.

He nodded. “Julian was hoping you’d come talk to him in the Mausoleum. The other Honored Dead and he have finished their discussions, and he wanted a word with you.”

I nodded. That was odd. I’d have expected Mama to brief me, if only because she tended to be the only one actually eager to speak with me.

I followed the white robe through a few lesser tread paths on the way to the mausoleum, he was clearly trying to make me avoid interacting with too many people and spreading the advanced R.A.S. In spite of that we still passed a few people who, after coming within a short distance of me, started to clutch their heads as we moved.

We eventually made it to a side entrance to the Mausoleum. I followed the white robe carefully, taking the time to look at the walls as we moved. They were carved in intricate patterns with skulls, epitaphs, and scythes, to keep with the theme of Pott’s. We moved deep into the Mausoleum, then started making our way underground. We eventually came to a large door, which the white robe pushed open with a low grunt. Like the rest of the Mausoleum, the basement was dark, and decorated in the same macabre way, but here there were wires running across those patterned walls, computers mounted to sleek stone desks, and a suit of power armor laying across a table in the center of it all. Julian was accompanied by two of his white robes, and they were all in a state of deep concentration, not even noticing my entrance.

My white robed escort looked nervously at me, then at Julian, clearly unsure of if he should tell him I was there, or what his responsibilities were in this situation.

“Leave,” I said.

He nodded, and did so without hesitation, grateful for the out.

I approached Julian. He was hunched over the armor, a panel of it open and using a soldering gun on it, the sparks flying from the gun let an excited look in his eyes. I stood across from him, and waited patiently as he stopped, inspected his work, and glanced up.

“Donovan,” he nodded at me. Then he looked over at the other two white robes in the room who were clutching their foreheads or rubbing their temples. “You two can take a break to nurse those. Eat something, get some fresh air.”

They nodded and walked out.

“I don’t often have reason to be thankful I’m not in the R.A.S., but that seems very unpleasant.”

“It was worse the first time.”

“Based on the data we’ve been combing through, it should’ve killed you in fact. Luckily, machine learning makes the process smoother every time. It’s a good thing it’s being spread to deadmen first though. Humans would not handle the patch well.”

“You called for me?” I asked.

He nodded. “I had a few things to give you, a need to thank you for something, and I wanted to pass on a request from the Honored Dead.”

“A request?”

Julian smiled. “Solomon would of course prefer to have it phrased as an order, but as you know, that’s not how the rest of us like to do things.” He closed the panel of the power armor he’d been working on and patted it. “First off, I wanted to thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” I’d secured the power armor suit in a deal I’d made with the Remnants to cross the cut.

“I wasn’t sure if you had it sent to me for safe-keeping, or for our use, but I couldn’t resist taking a look inside either way.”

I shook my head. “It’s for Pott’s, whatever you do with it is up to you.” I had considered using the suit myself, but having fought with them, I saw too many downsides. I was already as strong or stronger than what they could produce, and that was before my trip across the Cut had changed me further. They were also bulky, slow, and I worked mostly alone so I wouldn’t be able to get any kind of maintenance or charging, potentially making it dead weight in my case.

He smiled, that spark in his eyes showing itself. “Thank you Donovan. We’re close to being able to manufacture a few of our own, but having a base model to work with has made things much easier for us.” He moved over to a wooden chest which he hefted easily and placed in front of me, gesturing for me to open it.

I pried open the lid with my hands and saw a cerberus, as well as two small, sleek las pistols in black. Also in the box was a set of ten black cartridges. I noticed that the Cerberus as well as the pistol already had the cartridges installed into them.

“Those are for you. We managed to figure out a portable ammunition solution. Before we were using excess deadzone radiation to charge them at specific stations. Obviously not a great solution outside of Pott’s, though. Those black cartridges can be slotted in when the guns run dry. Try not to lose them, we can charge them again when they’re emptied.”

I nodded, and grabbed the guns, testing their weight before I slid one of the pistols where my 9mm used to go, and put the rest in my pack. “Thank you Julian.”

He nodded. “No problem. We wouldn’t have this tech without you, and I personally would prefer you have as much support as you can out there.” He paused then, looking at me, his expression shifting for half a second. “Mama, Kit, Solomon, Jim… they’re good people. They have what’s best for Pott’s at heart, but they don’t think past the immediate. I think you, and I have a different understanding. Things in the wastes… the average settlement… It's dangerous, hard, miserable. We have a template here for something better. A life actually worth living, worth protecting. Having the means to protect ourselves and throw our weight around in the aid of those deadmen that haven’t yet joined us… that’s something we need.”

I thought of the deadman babies left in hot wooden boxes outside of settlements for us to pick up, Tim hanging from a pole for the crimes his uncle committed, and enslaved deadmen being driven across the desert in the hot sun. “We do.”

He nodded. “The last thing is the Honored Dead’s request. We want you to stay here for a week. Long enough to spread the advanced R.A.S. to everyone here. Once that’s done, then you can do as you please.”

“Why?” I asked.

“From what I can determine, the advanced R.A.S. will allow people to vote on a president. This person will have the authority to make changes in the system, however, they can’t simply make people drop dead, they’re limited by a set of rules. It’s an incredible boon, but it’s not all powerful. That said, we want to spread it among our people first, then have our undertakers heading into Iron Horde territory. We believe we may have a chance to win it, and even if we don’t we, unlike most groups in the wastes, can be expected to vote as a solid block. It’s possible we can get more concessions out of the Remnants or Horde even if we ourselves show no chance of winning.”

I nodded along. It seemed like a good option. I hadn’t considered the idea of a deadman winning though. “What makes you think a deadman might win?” I asked.

“The way the system works isn’t based on any visuals. No one will know, our candidate is a deadman. They’ll only be able to hear or read their campaign messages and debates. It gives us a chance. Obviously, the Remnants and Horde will still have an advantage, but if we control enough votes, that still benefits our footing.”

“So your request of me is to just sit here and do nothing for a week?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I grimaced. That wasn’t as easy an ask as he might think.