To Do or Die (A Jump Universe Novel)

by Mike Shepherd

  He and his idealistic campaign staff were pretty down afterward, but Mary promised to have her own security team roaming the crowd at his next big rally. Alice suggested that he show up at the plant doors at shift change to shake hands and let the folks get to know him personally.

  The professor cringed at the thought, but his doctoral candidate quickly pulled up some research that said that was the way it was done in the old days before all the media. Mary arranged for him to have some scruffy-looking guys hanging with him, and they got the professor off to bed.

  Next day, the professor was outside plants for the morning shift change, and he managed to hit three plants during the staggered lunch breaks. He talked to middle managers in restaurants during their coffee breaks and ended the day covering the afternoon shift change.

  Mary personally took an ugly knife away from some guy with no plant pass. He was slipping up behind the professor with no great skill. She hustled him away from the line and frisked him. He had a wad of new bills, but no ID. She relieved him of his pay, since he hadn’t earned it, broke his wrist, and sent him on his way to report back to those who hired him.

  She didn’t bother the professor with that, but she did pass the word to the security details. Next time, no doubt, Whitebred would hire someone with better skills.

  That set the template for most of the days that week. The professor shook a lot of hands, shared some really bad food with people who ate the likes of it every day of their lives, and talked about making Savannah a better place for them and their kids.

  The dreaming side of the campaign-management team offered a bit of advice. “We campaign in poetry. We govern in prose.”

  Mary was none too sure anyone else on her team understood the difference between poetry and prose. Dumont admitted not knowing either one. After Mary explained the difference between words that were vague, loaded, and pretty versus words that were exact, limited, and hard, he nodded.

  “Well, that explains why what we think we’re getting from a politician and what we get are so different.”

  The professor overheard that. “I’m telling people what I want to do. Hope to do. What I’ll be able to actually do will be something else entirely. I know it. Politics, governance, is the art of the possible, not the ideal. At least that’s what I’m reading in these books. Now, Milassi, he had everything his own way, and look what that got for the rest of us. I don’t want to be the next Milassi. I’m not sure what I will be, but him. No way.”

  Mary redoubled her efforts to see that the guy lived long enough to find out.

  SIXTY-ONE

  BUT IT WASN’T the professor Mary needed to look out for.

  Friday’s rally did not end in a fight. Several got started, but Marines moved in quickly and ended them before they could grow into brawls. Better, the Marines collected the brawlers and found that most had recently gotten a major payday.

  Under questioning, they admitted to being hired to start a fight.

  “Who hired you?” elicited only vague descriptions with no names attached.

  “At least tonight we dodged the bullet,” Mary muttered to herself as the crowd streamed out of the amphitheater. Someone had set up a booth to sell T-shirts and was having quite a night.

  Maybe the professor was catching on.

  Somebody must have thought so.

  Later that evening, Mary got a call.

  “You know that guy that’s the professor’s assistant campaign manager?” Dumont started with.

  “Yeah, the one that drops a quote every five minutes.”

  “He just got beat up on his way home from the rally. I got a team responding to his commlink. A medic and others.”

  “I’ll meet you there,” Mary said, giving up on getting to bed early.

  The young fellow had been beaten up badly and both his wrists broken.

  Send a message, get one back.

  They got him to the university hospital, where they did their best to reduce his pain as they worked on him.

  “Those wrists are never going to be as good as they were,” the doc admitted to Mary.

  That didn’t surprise her. But what did surprise her was the first visitor to arrive at the hospital. The police commissioner, despite the late hour, showed up to ask about the fellow.

  The doc gave him the same story she’d given Mary. Then the commissioner turned to Mary. “I’m tired of all these beatings happening on my watch. I’d like to stop them but don’t know how.”

  “Are you really willing to give it a try?” Lek asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Even if you do make an arrest,” Mary said, “do you have a judge who will hand down a conviction?”

  “Yes. I have one, maybe three that are listening to the professor, to Alberto, and would like to see Savannah the way they see it.”

  “Well,” Lek said, “I just might be able to give you the guys who did this to that young fellow.”

  “How?” both Mary and the commissioner asked.

  “I don’t know if you know it, Commissioner, but Savannah is crawling with bugs. Every time we go out of the embassy, we get all buggy. I run a jammer just to be on the safe side, myself. When we go back to the embassy, we debug ourselves. Now at first, we just squished the bugs, but the more we got, the more I thought, why not put them to work for me? I’ve been subverting the little darlings, turning them to the bright side, if you will, and that young fellow was bugged. I have the video of his beating.”

  “You do?” Mary said.

  “Can we see it?” the commissioner asked.

  Lek ran it. The images of those beating up the man appeared in the air in front of them.

  “That’s the Bear,” Mary said, pointing out one hefty fellow standing well back and out of the way of thrown punches. “I know him from his chasing Ruth and me. He beat up the wife of one of our Marine officers.”

  “But he’s not beating up this fellow,” the commissioner pointed out.

  “No doubt he paid for it,” Lek said.

  “I don’t doubt you. I can convict the fellows throwing the punches but not him, unless one of these three turns on him.”

  “Do you know them?” Mary asked.

  “They are known to me and mine,” the commissioner said, punching his own commlink. “Can I have a copy of that video?”

  Lek sent it to him.

  The police moved quickly after that. Lek and Mary were in court the next day. The judge refused bail for the three thugs and sent them on their way to the local jail.

  Unfortunately, none of them lived long enough to talk to the prosecutors about a deal to roll on the Bear. Two were shanked in the shower, the other in the exercise yard.

  The commissioner was not happy. “I knew we had bad cops. I didn’t know we had bad prison guards. I’ll take better care of the next ones we catch.”

  “No doubt it will be harder for someone to hire the next batch, what with the retirement plan they gave these last three,” Mary said.

  “No doubt,” the commissioner agreed, then went on. “Could you get me an introduction to your commander, General Longknife? Those infantry troops arriving. What plans does he have for them?”

  So Mary introduced the commissioner to General Ray Longknife and the two of them soon expanded their meeting to include Colonel Stewart of the 4th Highlanders. By the next day, Highlanders were joining cops walking the beat, one for one, two for two, and the level of violent crimes began to plummet.

  Part of that might have been the rumor that got around that surveillance bugs were now working for the cops and even dark, out-of-the-way corners might be covered in living color.

  A few days after that, the price of airtime on the net dropped a lot. The professor still had his rallies, but he needed bigger venues. Working-class people now rubbed elbows with people from the suburbs who no longer feared coming downtown at night.

  Things only got more peaceful as the 1st Battalion, Pitts Hope Grenadiers joined the local police walking their beat. An
d the quality of the policing improved.

  It’s hard to be a dishonest cop when you’ve got a kid in a kilt carrying a slung rifle walking the beat beside you.

  As the election drew close, it turned out the senators from Earth would arrive two days before it and would be there for it. While Trouble went with General Longknife to meet with the two battalion colonels, it was Mary who somehow got stuck with the job of setting up a watch list to have soldiers or Marines cover all the voting sites.

  Then Whitebred did something stupid that could have decided the election for him but didn’t.

  SIXTY-TWO

  MARY WAS DONE with her rounds for the night. She and Lek had visited most of the professor’s campaign headquarters. Before Mary chose to call it a night, she decided to make one last check at the professor’s house.

  “We got problems,” Lek said, when they were still three blocks away.

  “What kind of problems?” Mary said.

  “Someone is jamming the cameras I got around the place. The guard should have turned out immediately. Unless their take has been suborned and they’re watching something patched into their feed.”

  Mary put her foot down, and they covered the last few blocks like teenagers with a death wish.

  The outside of the professor’s home looked no different. The pair of Highlanders posted on the street did not look alarmed.

  At least they didn’t until Mary drove like a madwoman into the driveway and came to a squealing stop.

  Having made as much noise as she intended to, she signaled the Highlanders to go around the far side of the house, while she and Lek covered the near side.

  It was hard to tell with ivy covering the walls, but they looked clear.

  It was in the back that they found the broken window to the rear door.

  The house was dark, and stayed that way when Mary tried to turn on the lights. The jammer killed a call for backup, and the landline was dead when Lek tried it.

  The house was silent, except for some muted noise coming from the basement. Mary signaled one Highlander to head upstairs and rouse the residents. She, Lek, and the other Highlander, guns at the ready, headed downstairs.

  There, by the light of a single hand lamp, two men were emptying cans of a volatile-smelling liquid while the third, the Bear, jiggered the fuse box.

  Before Mary could shout “halt,” one of them spotted Mary and tossed his gas can at her, splattering her with the stuff. With his other hand, he went for his gun.

  “This is a gas bomb, don’t shoot, you idiot,” Mary shouted.

  “I ain’t dying in no jail,” the other man yelled as he tossed his now-empty can in Mary’s general direction and also went for his gun. Even the Bear turned from the fuse box as he went for his automatic.

  Mary put three rounds into the Bear’s chest. His own shots went into the basement’s concrete floor. Sparks flew.

  Or maybe it was one of the other arsonists. Both of them were falling from Lek and the Highlander’s fire. Their own fire went wild, adding to the ignition sources.

  The basement exploded.

  Mary found her arm on fire from the splattered gas. She dropped her weapon and began beating at the flames as she backed up the stairs. She turned to run, preferring to risk fanning her own flames to facing what was happening in the basement.

  At the top of the stairs, Mary ordered the other Highlander to help his buddy. That Highlander was down from the second floor, two kids limping along beside him.

  “They’ve been drugged. I got the kids. You get the parents.”

  “Go with him, Lek,” Mary ordered as she headed out the back door.

  Around front, Mary found a fire truck. Its crew went about their business with intent.

  “Anyone in there?” the engine chief shouted.

  “Two parents upstairs. I’ve sent men to help them out. Three arsonists may still be in the basement. That’s where the fire started.”

  The engine chief shouted orders in his radio, and two pairs of firefighters led their hoses around the back of the house. A moment later, water began to flow.

  At that moment, Lek and the Highlander brought the professor and his wife out the front door to collapse on the grass beside their kids. The teary reunion drew almost as much water as the pumper was putting out.

  A rescue team joined the collection of red fire gear in front of the house, and Mary made her way there. They took one look at her burned arm and went to work covering it with healing gel. That cut into some of the pain starting to flood Mary.

  Weak in the knees, she settled on the back bumper of the rescue unit and watched the house. It looked like they might succeed in containing the fire in the basement.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” came in a familiar voice.

  Mary looked up. “Hi, Commissioner. I might say the same thing. What brings you out of your bed this late at night?”

  “A neighbor saw lights in the professor’s basement and tried to call out. Strange, their commlink was jammed, but their old landline worked just fine. They called the police station. Their captain called me. Said this likely had ‘political’ all over it.”

  “Very likely,” Mary agreed, then took in the mob following the commissioner. “Who called the newsies?”

  “I did,” he said. “You’re not the only one who wants a different Savannah.”

  Mary started to shiver. The commissioner located a blanket and wrapped it around her.

  “Thanks,” Mary said through chattering teeth.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “We were just checking things out before hitting the rack and didn’t like the jamming any more than the next guy. We found the Bear and two henchmen getting ready to set the fire. Dumb fools, they chose to shoot it out in the middle of a gas bomb. I got some splashed on me. Likely you’ll find the three arsonists in the basement. Very likely they’ll have bullet holes in them. You want my gun or something?”

  “You’re Marine, or something. Talk to your own chain of command. I’ll accept this as a preliminary report pending our own investigation.”

  He paused and eyed the house, where the fire seemed to be going out. “But thanks for doing my job for me.”

  “It’s a hard job,” Mary said, as an ambulance pulled up. The medic put a needle in her arm, and she found herself very sleepy. She hardly noticed as they laid her out on a gurney.

  SIXTY-THREE

  WHEN MARY WOKE up the next morning, she found herself flat on her back in a burn unit, facing a parade of visitors.

  The doc was encouraging. “Not too much of your body was involved, and you got it out fast. We’ll need to do some skin grafts, but I’ve already extracted some, and they are growing nicely.”

  “Is that why my butt hurts?”

  “Did you have some other preferred donation site?”

  Mary left it at a smarting rump.

  Trouble was next; Ruth came along.

  “Thanks for getting that shit that beat me up,” Ruth said.

  “My pleasure,” Mary admitted, “but don’t tell anyone, or I might go from hero to perp in two easy steps.”

  “We won’t,” Trouble agreed. “For someone who doesn’t like being in uniform, you’re sure collecting a pile of medals. I’ve got my clerk writing you up for a couple.”

  “You can donate them to Alice and the other kids. Those are your real heroes. And they don’t get paid for it.”

  “Ray’s setting up some scholarship money for them from the funds his father-in-law sent.”

  “I hope he can,” Mary breathed, and found herself tired.

  When she woke up the next time, the professor, his wife, and their kids were waiting patiently at her bedside. “Thank you for saving our lives,” he said.

  “Thank you for saving all of us,” his wife said.

  “That’s just part of my job,” Mary said. “I much prefer saving lives to that other thing I sometimes have to do.”

  “Well, you sure did it for us,” th
e son piped in.

  The daughter handed Mary a vase of flowers. “I cut them myself,” she said.

  “So the house didn’t burn to the ground,” Mary said.

  “Not even the books in my study on the ground floor,” the professor said.

  “How is this playing on the net?” Mary had to ask. “I saw a lot of reporters and cameras there last night.”

  “They gave my husband marvelous coverage,” his wife gushed.

  “And I got a call from Mr. Eliade about an hour ago. He wants to close down his campaign and back me. I’m sure there will be some horse trading after the election, but Admiral Whitebred will only be facing a single name against him on the ballot. That has got to help.”

  “The fool really outdid himself this time, didn’t he?” Mary whispered.

  “It appears so.”

  Mary was once again tired, but it felt very good to fall back to sleep this time. Being a hero didn’t matter much to an old space miner. Making a better world for some kids. Now, that mattered a lot to her.

  The next day, she felt better. The doctor released her to light duty, and when she got back to the embassy, she got a cheer from just about every Marine who wasn’t on duty or couldn’t sneak away for a second.

  That was nice, but Trouble confined her to the embassy until she got released to full duty. Thus, she missed out on the final fiasco that Whitebred came up with to wreck the election.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  GENERAL RAY LONGKNIFE liked it when plans came together—even if it wasn’t really much of a plan, and he didn’t have a lot to do with it.

  You had to love it when a scumbag like Whitebred overreached and made his fate even less pleasant. The go at the professor and his family made all the news, and the discovery of the burned bodies in his basement cinched the deal.

  The police commissioner traced the Bear back to both Milassi and Whitebred, and the news ran with it. The one thing that he and Becky feared, that the two decent guys might split the votes enough for Whitebred to sneak out a first-place finish, vanished when the industrialist withdrew.