Deadman

Nico and I ordered the same thing. A hunk of radded out meat, with a pile of different vegetables on the side. I tucked in, washing it down with two glasses of deadman strength hooch, and I found that the combination of food and booze took a lot of the edge off. I wasn’t sure if that was going to be a good thing or a bad thing in my upcoming meeting, but I didn’t really care at this point. I didn’t get to have food this saturated in rads as often as I’d like, and I wanted to take the time to enjoy it, especially considering exile was on the table.

I didn’t fuss too much over what might happen. They had the facts, and what they didn’t know I would present to them. I didn’t think of myself as particularly good with words, even among deadmen. I knew I wouldn’ be able to convince anyone in one direction or the other. I just had to tell it like it is and let come what may.

Nico and I ate in silence. She was better at talking than I was, but that was relative. We needed just enough ability in that area to avoid being shot at by settlements we delivered mail to, and even that proved too difficult on more than one occasion for each of us. Eventually a woman wearing a white wrap came to the table. She gave me a bit too long of a stare before talking. I assumed she was aware of my history, the white robes were historians and aides to the honored dead after all.

“Donovan, the Honored Dead will see you in the mausoleum.”

I nodded and stood up.

“You can crash at my place when your done,” said Nico.

“If they don’t exile me, sure.”

She grabbed my hand and looked at me with more intensity than I was used to seeing from her. “I’ll see you when you’re done. Okay?”

I gently place my hand on top of hers. “Okay.”

She nodded at me and released her grip, returning to her meal.

With that I followed the white robe toward the mausoleum. Unlike most of the buildings that were decorated with vibrant colors or white to contrast the orange material they were built from, the Mausoleum was painted black, with flowing designs in white intricately colored all around its surface. It was another reminder of Pott’s founder's sense of drama, which had been honored by all the deadmen who’d moved in since. It acted as both the headquarters of the Honored Dead, and the Undertakers.

I was walked through the building to a large meeting room. The Honored Dead sat in a neat line. Mama was on the far left and regarded me with a warm smile, Kit was next to her and gave me a polite nod. Solomon gave me a neutral glance, but his toady Jim openly glared which gave me a good read of Solomon’s actual opinion. To the far right sat Julian, who wore a relaxed expression.

The honored dead were each in charge of a separate aspect of life in Pott’s, though not every person with an important role was also a member of the honored dead. The head of the Undertakers for instance, was next in line, but not yet an Honored Dead herself. Mama was in charge of the orphanage, Kit managed all agriculture, Solomon was the head arbiter, in charge of making decisions in disputes, Jim was the head architect and city planner. Julian was in charge of the white robes, and thus all the administrative duties that supported everyone else’s responsibilities. For a lesser man that would’ve meant he worked for everyone else, but in his case, it made it more like everyone else worked for him. He’d never say that out loud though, he very much acted as a servant of the people, but when he asked for something directly, his request was always quickly answered.

“Donovan,” said Solomon, his eyes behind spectacles that I’d always suspected were for show. I’d never known a Deadman with vision problems until I’d met him.

I tipped my hat to him and the rest of the council. “Solomon, Honored Dead.”

“You know why we’ve called you here I presume?”

I nodded. “I’ve been making a bit of a fuss I suppose.”

Mama let out a little laugh at that which drew a glare from Jim, but Solomon kept his eyes on me.

“A fuss? You’ve been raising hell. Two dead mayors? Working with the Khan? Making noise in all the wrong places? We of the Honored Dead have always respected your independence, but that was with the implicit understanding that you would keep to yourself. The actions you’ve taken have put deadmen in more danger than they’ve experienced in decades. It is because of this that I recommend you be exiled.”

“Bullshit,” said Mama in her usual motherly tone.

“Mama, I know you feel a need to protect every one of the children you’ve raised, but even you need to admit that his actions draw dangerous attention to deadmen that they don’t need right now.”

“His actions show that we aren’t to be trifled with. The mayor of Kind hung his own nephew for no crimes. The Mayor of Springfield left children in a hot black box to starve and overheat. The only problem I have with Donovan’s actions is that they weren’t taken sooner.”

Jim stood from his seat and started yelling. “Every time a deadman makes a stir like this, every time we push back, humans come back on us two fold! Those settlements may start strangling the newly dead in their cribs! Shooting undertakers on sight! Donovan’s actions have been selfish and counterproductive to what Pott’s Field represents!”

Kit shook her head and I noticed that the majority of the notebooks and maps I’d presented were in front of either her or Julian. “I have looked over his notes, and heard the reports from Deux and Nico as well as a few of our other sources. I think it’s quite possible that he’s done more good than harm.”

Solomon looked over at her with an eyebrow raised. “Could you elaborate?”

She nodded. “Kind and Springfield both may have started to become more of a problem for us if Donovan had taken those actions and done nothing afterwards, but that’s not what happened. He gained the Khan’s support, and my most recent report shows that he helped Marshalls in STAR territory. People are talking about him, and most are afraid. I think it’s possible that fear will make people more amenable to the Undertakers, not less. Didn’t our own founder shroud himself in mystique to be taken more seriously? I say we take advantage of this, and let Donovan continue as he’s done. Settlements can either deal with our Undertakers, or risk the Khan’s Marshall Donovan making an appearance.” She turned to look at me. “Do I condone all of his actions? No, but what’s done is done, and I say we use it.”

Julian cleared his throat, and everyone turned their attention to him. “Donovan, I have a few questions I want to ask you directly.”

“Shoot.”

“Your reports mention bunkers. One of which contained laser based weaponry, and another of which seems to have been the source of the Deadmen themselves.”

I nodded.

He licked his lips. “And in your most recent foray in STAR territory you found a kind of factory, on the edge of the Cut deadzone, that put out doses of radiation making it difficult for humans to use?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. Were you able to salvage anything?”

I nodded and pulled the extra las-rifle from my back, which I then carefully handed to him. “I brought that one for you all to have. I thought maybe we could figure out how to use it.”

Julian’s eyes took on a new intensity as he held the rifle. He looked at the maps laid out and smiled more widely than he had been. “I think that the work Donovan has been doing is incredibly valuable. He’s unearthing not only our history, but also tech that was only barely in existence before the bombs fell. To exile him… no, we need to let him continue what he’s been doing.”

Solomon shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The risks of letting this continue. Pott’s will die without new Deadmen joining us. If the Khan turns on him, or he goes too far, it could doom us. And let’s be clear, Donovan has never been measured in his approach to anything. It’s not a matter of if he goes too far, but when.”

Julian regarded Solomon with a neutral expression of his own, but I could tell his mind was made up already. “We’ll put it to a vote, and go from there.”

I coughed to get everyone’s attention. “There is one more thing I didn’t feel comfortable recording in any notebook, but I need to present it to all of you.”

Julian nodded at me.

“While working with the other Marshalls I became aware that one of them, Leah, was not what she appeared to be.” I removed the tube she’d given me, and pressed my thumb against the imprint reader to open it. “There is another faction coming to the wastes here. I’m not sure from where, but the impression she gave me is that they’re the Remnants of the old US government.”

They all began muttering, but Julian leaned forward. “Go on.”

“I spoke with her, and her people have offered us an alliance. One that promises that when they return, and take back this portion of the wastes, they’re going to leave us alone, and make sure no deadmen are hurt in the areas they control. All they ask in return is my continued cooperation and our assistance with recovering certain things from high radiation areas.” I walked forward and handed the paper to Solomon directly. “I know you don’t believe I have what’s best in mind for Pott’s and Deadmen in general, but I’m trying. I’ve seen the tech these people can bring to bear, and I think we should take their offer seriously.”

“You’ve given us a lot to think about,” said Julian, as Solomon began looking over the document I’d handed him.

“I say we make the vote on whether or not to exile Donovan now, and then we look over the document for a separate vote agre-”

The white robed woman who’d escorted me in ran into the room before Julian could finish. Her eyes were wide and she was trembling. “Honored Dead. There’s been a murder.”