Manhunt on Tau Ceti 4 (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 6)

by John Bowers

  A rumpled man in his sixties got to his feet. He repeated the question.

  “How did they fix it?”

  “I’m awfully glad you asked that question, sir.” Carter bathed the man with his smile. “By organizing, they vowed that, until employers agreed to pay a fair wage, they would simply refuse to work. One or two men can’t get away with that—they’ll be fired—but when enough workers unite and take action of that sort, the employer is forced to pay attention. It’s called solidarity.”

  He turned his attention back to the crowd at large, his earnestness pouring out.

  “Individually, none of us can make a difference. We’re too small. But together, as a collective, we have as much power as we need. It took time, of course. The union wasn’t formed overnight, but once it became established, we were able to negotiate better pay, better working hours, better medical care, retirement, and vacation benefits. Every man who joined the union is better off for it, and those who opposed the union are also better off. That’s why we are here tonight, so I can explain to you how it works and how you will benefit.”

  Nick was listening, but also watching the crowd. Hostility was still in the air, but the men were listening. Some even seemed interested.

  Carter continued his appeal.

  “Let me ask you all a question: How many of you feel you are being adequately compensated for your work? If you do, raise your hand.”

  Two or three hands were raised, but most men looked confused. A few exchanged glances.

  “If you feel you are being paid what you’re worth, raise your hands.”

  A dozen more hands shot up, then five or six more.

  “That’s what I thought. How many of you feel your employers are taking advantage of you?”

  The original hands were lowered, but were replaced by well over a hundred others. Carter’s smile broadened.

  “Again, that’s what I thought. Thank you for being honest, and I forgive those of you who were afraid to raise your hand because the wrong people might see you do it. You see, that’s what the union is all about. As a union member, you don’t have to be afraid anymore. It’s okay to tell your employer that you need more money, because we’re all in this together. If they fire one man for standing up for his rights, the rest of us will walk out with you, leaving the employer no choice but to bargain. That’s how the union protects you. That’s what solidarity is.

  “Look, gentlemen, you may like your boss, and that’s okay. None of this is personal. We aren’t talking about corrupt individuals, although we recognize that they exist. This is about human nature, and the nature of corporations. Greed is one of the most basic human emotions, and human nature being what it is, the more wealth a person or corporation collects, the more they want. It doesn’t matter if they gained that wealth on the sweat of someone else’s labor, they just don’t want to let it go, not even to compensate those who earned it for them. By their very nature, corporations will screw you every time. The purpose of the union is to prevent that from happening.

  “So…ask yourself this: How much is my labor really worth, and am I being fairly paid? If the answer to the second question is ‘no’, then you should seriously consider joining the union.”

  Carter then invited half a dozen of his own people onto the stage to tell their stories. Nick had seen them standing at the foot of the stage, probably a few of the “thugs” Sheriff Thomas had reported seeing. Each told a different, personal story, the theme of which was how the union had improved their lives. Predictably, one had a family member with a life-threatening ailment and no medical insurance—the union had saved her life. Another had been blacklisted as a whistle-blower after reporting unsafe working conditions at his job—the union had given him a home.

  Et cetera.

  A few feet from the stage, listening, stood a young woman who looked somewhat out of place. Her clothing looked upscale compared to the workers in the audience—tight designer jeans and jacket, a frilly blouse, and knee-high leather boots. Her only concession to the working crowd was a blue hard hat. She listened to the speeches with an intensity that caught Nick’s attention, as if she were taking mental notes for later.

  When the testimonials were finished, Bert Carter took center stage again. He smiled, a friendly, benevolent beam that seemed to penetrate the dim corners of the warehouse.

  “If you have any questions, I’ll take them now.”

  Chapter 12

  Nick had lost sight of the four deputies. Sheriff Thomas still leaned against the wall just inside the door, and Victoria hadn’t moved from her spot a few feet to his right. In spite of her blond hair and good looks, and the fact that she was almost the only woman in the building, the men ignored her as they concentrated on the presentation.

  Carter had called for questions and there seemed to be many. One after another, men stood up and voiced their concerns; Carter answered them with ease, seeming to anticipate most even before they were asked.

  “I understand how you can unionize a farm or a factory in Orosi,” one man said, “but how can you do that with the railroad? It runs through every district on the planet. Does everyone have to sign on?”

  “I knew someone would ask that,” Carter told him. “The railroad is the biggest challenge because, as you pointed out, the workers live in every single district. What we propose to do is unionize each district one at a time. Union rules will apply only to the districts that have signed on.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “It’s a little complex, but for example, let’s say we have a grievance with the railroad. We can’t shut it down in the districts where the workers aren’t united, but we can freeze movement here in Hardwood District and in Orosi. The railroad can do whatever it wants everywhere else, but nothing will move in our districts until they come around. It isn’t a perfect solution, but it will certainly impact their operation, and even two or three districts can cause them a lot of grief. Hardwood District is especially critical because everything coming from off-planet comes in through here. You men in this room have more power over the railroad than anyone else on the planet.”

  “Can’t they just build a shuttleport in another district?” someone asked. “Or five shuttleports, or ten?”

  “Yes they can—at great expense—but it will take months, maybe years, to build even one such facility. In the meantime, nothing moves on the rails. They lose money, lots of it. They simply can’t afford to ignore us.”

  Four more men came to their feet, their body language suggesting resistance.

  “You’re talking about a strike!” shouted the first. “What the hell do we live on while we wait for the railroad to bend over? Are you going to pay us?”

  “If the rail stops working,” demanded a second, “the stores run out of food! How do I feed my family if there’s nothing in the stores?”

  “Not only that,” a third chimed in, “but the citizens of this town know who works for the railroad! If we go on strike, they’ll burn us out.”

  An angry growl of agreement rumbled through the crowd. Nick saw the four bodyguards at the back of the stage stand up straight, scowling. One of them took a couple of steps forward, as if ready to start breaking heads.

  Carter raised both hands in appeasement.

  “One at a time, please.

  “Yes, a strike is a serious matter that affects everyone, including those who aren’t railroad employees. But that’s what makes a strike so powerful, and why it is used only when negotiations fail. Taking the railroad as an example—if a walkout takes place, the trains won’t move. People won’t have long-distance transportation, and goods will not arrive by rail. Shortages occur, people get pissed off. You think they’ll take it out on you, but I disagree—I say they will be angry at the railroad. Remember, most of your neighbors are also working people. Most of them are also undercompensated. They will understand your position, and the reason for it. They will put pressure on the railroad, not on the workers.

  “And
not only the citizens, but the businesses, the stores who suddenly won’t have any product to sell—they will pressure the railroad. The city of Hardwood will pressure the railroad. Everyone will demand that the railroad sit at the negotiating table and come to a fair and equitable agreement. You will be inconvenienced for a short time, maybe a week or two, but in the end you will be much better off than before. And so will your neighbors.”

  The back-and-forth continued another forty minutes. Watching their faces, Nick saw a gleam of interest in many of those assembled, but others looked obstinate, even angry. More than once the dialogue was conducted in shouts and angry tones, but Carter replied calmly, keeping his voice even. The tension seemed to ease, to the point that Nick began to think the evening might end on a peaceful note. Finally the men seemed to run out of questions.

  Bert Carter swept the crowd again with a tentative smile.

  “Any more questions? No?”

  Nick stepped away from the wall and raised his hand.

  “I have a question.”

  Carter spun toward him, his smile becoming a grin.

  “The gentleman in the cowboy hat.” As eyes turned toward Nick, Carter added: “Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Yancy West? Not Yancy West now, but when he was younger.”

  “Uh, not recently. But thanks.”

  “What is your question?”

  “Actually I have two or three, if you don’t mind.”

  Carter shrugged, still smiling. “Fire away.”

  “You said your grandfather came here to escape employer oppression on Terra—”

  “That’s right.”

  “—but you never told us what his occupation was.”

  “He was an assembly line worker in a hovercar factory.”

  “Okay…I find that a little surprising. If I’m not mistaken, most manufacturing jobs on Terra have been unionized for centuries. If that’s the case, then why didn’t your grandfather’s union help him out?”

  For two or three seconds, Bert Carter only stared at him, his smile fading. The bodyguards behind him tensed and glared at Nick. Carter’s smile reasserted itself.

  “In the years just before my grandfather migrated to TC 4, the unions in North America were deregulated almost to death. They were only a ghost of what they had been a few decades earlier. We don’t have that problem here. Tau Ceti 4 has no central government yet and the local districts don’t have the political power to interfere.

  “Did you have another question?”

  “Yes. You’ve talked quite a bit tonight about greedy employers and how they screw their workers. That’s one side of the story, but I’m wondering why none of those employers are here to tell their side of it?”

  Bert Carter laughed.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes I am. I don’t question your sincerity, but I believe in fairness, and every story has two sides. If the employers are so evil, why aren’t they here to defend themselves? Maybe some of them have good reasons why they can’t pay a higher wage.”

  Another growl washed through the crowd, a combination of what sounded like agreement and maybe some anger as well. As Bert Carter responded, Nick saw one of the bodyguards behind him tilt his mouth down to his collar, his lips moving. Nick kept his eyes on Carter, but braced himself.

  “That’s a fair question,” Carter said in his most reasonable voice. “The answer is that, quite honestly, it never occurred to me. I’ll tell you what, and this is a promise—if we have another meeting like this, I will invite the employers from Orosi, and the railroad, to join us and explain their position. Does that sound fair to you?”

  Nick sensed a jostle in the crowd behind him, but didn’t turn around.

  “Yes, it does, thank you. I’m just sorry you didn’t do it tonight, because I have a feeling there won’t be another opportunity as good as this one.”

  As Bert Carter turned his attention to the other side of the room, someone pressed against Nick from the right; a hand gripped his elbow. Another sidled up to him from the left.

  “Hey, buddy, can I talk to you outside?”

  Nick looked into the eyes of the burly man holding his elbow. He was better dressed than most of the men in the warehouse. His eyes looked hard.

  “What about?”

  “Just need to talk. Let’s take it outside.”

  Nick smiled at him. “I have a better idea—let’s not.”

  A second hand gripped his left arm and he felt himself being pushed a few inches to his right, toward the door. It was all done quietly and without notice of anyone nearby.

  “Okay, cowboy, we can do this easy or we can do it hard, but you are coming outside.”

  “Why? Was it something I said?”

  “Don’t be a wise ass. No need to upset the folks.”

  “You don’t want to upset the folks? What about me? Maybe I’ll get upset.”

  The man on his left shoved him again. Nick’s knees locked and his boots gripped the floor, preventing him from moving. The hard-eyed man kept a tight grip on his elbow.

  “We just want to talk. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Nick thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  Without warning, he jerked his left arm free of the second man’s grip and drove his elbow straight back into his opponent’s face. He felt cartilage give way and a splash of blood on his sleeve as the assailant stumbled and fell. The man on his right looked startled but drew back his fist to strike. He froze as the muzzle of a high-powered rifle dug into his neck from behind, followed by the cocking of a hammer.

  “Maybe you didn’t hear what the man said,” said a cold-as-ice, but distinctly feminine voice. “He said no.”

  The man’s eyes widened and he turned slowly to peer into the cold blue gaze of Victoria Cross. For a moment he didn’t say a word.

  “I suggest you pick up your friend and help him outside,” the blonde told him, “before someone gets hurt.”

  “Jesus, lady! If you fire that thing in here you’ll kill twenty people.”

  She shoved the rifle barrel harder against his neck.

  “That’s right—and guess who the first one will be.”

  The men nearby had become aware of the scuffle and were gathering around to watch. Aware that it was no longer possible to keep a low profile, the man with the hard eyes let go of Nick’s elbow and bent to retrieve his bleeding friend from the floor. As he pulled him toward the exit, he made eye contact again.

  “This ain’t over, cowboy. We know who you are now. Both of you.”

  Before Nick could reply, Victoria swung her rifle butt against the man’s forehead hard enough to stagger him.

  “I doubt that,” she said, “but trust me—you don’t want to find out!”

  ***

  “What the hell was that all about?” Sheriff Thomas demanded after they returned to his office. “I asked you to help us prevent violence, not start it.”

  “They wanted to take Nick outside,” Victoria replied. “I didn’t see any benefit to letting that happen.”

  “I’m not talking about that. If Walker hadn’t started asking questions, that wouldn’t have happened.”

  “They were good questions. They needed to be asked.”

  “Just the same—”

  Nick held up both hands to put a brake on the conversation.

  “The meeting ended without violence. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut, but I didn’t. Sorry.” He reached into his pocket. “Here’s your badge back.”

  ***

  Snow swirled down the street as Nick and Victoria walked back to the hotel. The night had turned bitter cold and the streets were still. Victoria hugged her jacket tighter and blew on her hands.

  “I didn’t need your help,” Nick said.

  “What?” She stared at him in surprise. “Are you serious?”

  “Yep. That guy was right, you could have killed a bunch of people.”

  “The chamb
er was empty. I’m not an idiot, Nick.”

  He frowned. “You threatened him with an empty rifle?”

  “No. I could have chambered a round in about one second.”

  “I have my own weapon. I didn’t need your help.”

  “Oh, sure. In a crowded warehouse, a .44 Magnum is a whole lot safer than a rifle!”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She stopped walking and turned on him.

  “No, I don’t know what you mean! I backed you up and now you’re bitching about it? What the fuck, Walker.”

  “Maybe you should go back to Alpha Centauri.”

  “Okay, I’ll just take the next scheduled starship out of here. Oh, wait—there are no scheduled starships out of here!”

  She turned on her heel and started down the street to the hotel. Nick stared after her.

  “What the hell do you want from me, Cross?”

  She stopped and spun back, disbelief in her eyes.

  “What do I want? A little appreciation would be nice!”

  He blinked.

  “Okay, you did defend me in court two years ago. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  She tilted her head in disappointment.

  “Really? That’s it?” She walked back to stand facing him, snow crystals beading her blond hair.

  “I quit my job for you. I tracked you across four star systems. I tracked Saracen to this planet. I pulled you out of a Martian shithole and gave you a chance to get your life back, and that’s all you’ve got to say?”

  “I didn’t ask you to do any of that.”

  “No, you didn’t. You’re the iron man, aren’t you? Nick Walker, the real-life Yancy West. War hero. Champion of the weak and defenseless. You don’t need anybody. Except…once in a while, you do. But you can’t accept that. They say no man is an asteroid, but that doesn’t include you, does it? You work without backup, and if everything doesn’t go exactly your way, then you’re ready to just lie down and die.

  “You know what, Walker? Someday you will find yourself alone, outnumbered, surrounded, unarmed…and you will be dead. What do I want from you? I want you to survive. I don’t want you to die. I’ll settle for that.”