To Do or Die (A Jump Universe Novel) Read online

Now she understood why Izzy had been so insistent that Ruth get a credit card with her corporate name on it.

  Pa never borrowed anything. If he and Ma couldn’t pay for it, they went without.

  Here, Ruth needed borrowed wheels, and no one rented without a credit card for collateral. The Navy wasn’t the only place that took some getting used to.

  Ruth completed her rental agreement and pulled her tiny car up behind the bus to wait. The fellow who rented her the car had assured her that its map screen would show her how to get anywhere in town.

  Yeah, right. Ruth would follow the bus.

  While she waited for Trouble to get moving, she asked the computer to show her the best way to the Society of Humanity Embassy.

  The computer told her there was no embassy, “Glorious Unity forces being at war with Earth’s running dogs.”

  Someone hadn’t updated their database.

  Trouble seemed in no hurry, so Ruth expanded her research. “Where’s the illegal-drug research center?”

  “I know of no such business,” came back at her.

  “Chemical research center?” she tried.

  “I know of no . . .”

  “Farm or plant research center?”

  “I know of . . .”

  “What do you know?” Ruth snapped in exasperation.

  That was a mistake. The computer began an unstoppable exposition on all the bars and bordellos in town, some with quite graphic descriptions of the services offered.

  And it wouldn’t shut off. Ruth tried punching buttons. If anything, it got louder.

  “Hey, woman, want your windows washed?” a young voice piped.

  “What?” Ruth asked, glancing around for the voice’s source.

  “Want your windows washed? They’re dirty.”

  “What? Where are you? I can’t hear you very well. This thing won’t cut off.”

  In answer to her first question, a squeegee started waving outside the passenger side of the car.

  Ruth rolled the window down.

  The squeegee reached in and rapped the dashboard. “Shut up, you machine mouth,” the young voice snapped.

  The silence was delicious.

  “That’s better. Woman, you want your windows washed? I do a good job. Only one dinar.”

  Ruth checked her purse. “I don’t have any Savannah money yet.”

  A face, very dirty and horribly thin rose on tiptoes to smile at her from the passenger window. “That’s fine. I can do your windows for one Earth dollar.”

  Ruth wasn’t sure what the exchange rate was, but she was pretty positive it wasn’t one for one. She glanced at her windows. They were clean.

  She studied the kid; his hopeful smile was hard to deny. Ruth held up an Earth quarter.

  “You drive a hard bargain, woman, but you win.” And the kid quickly went to work smearing her front windows.

  “Where you want to go?” the kid asked as he came around to her side of the car, giving Ruth her first good look at him.

  The rest of the boy was as thin as the face had promised. He looked maybe six or eight, but allowing for a tough street life, he might be twelve. His clothes were dirty, torn, and way too big for him. What passed for shoes were held together by string with used newspaper for soles.

  Following behind him was a girl, maybe a year or two younger.

  “Are you his sister?”

  “No, he’s my brother,” the girl piped back.

  “Tiny gets confused easy,” the boy explained, not slowing down his work. “Where you going?” he asked again.

  “To the Society of Humanity Embassy,” Ruth answered this time.

  “The old one or the new one?”

  “The one with the ambassador, I hope.”

  “Oh. The traffic’s bad through town. You could get lost real easy, ma’am. I’ll show you a shortcut. Get you there real fast. Only cost a dollar.”

  “I’m planning on following that bus.”

  The boy studied the big vehicle ahead of them. “You could lose it at a stoplight. I can make sure you get there. Only a dollar.”

  Ruth looked down into the pleading eyes of the girl . . . and weighed the chances that these two kids could hit her over the head and leave her body in a ditch somewhere.

  Concluding that neither one nor both together could hurt her, Ruth nodded. “You make sure I get to the embassy, and I’ll pay you two quarters.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, lady,” the boy answered.

  But his sister was nodding yes.

  “Okay, we do it. Just for you.”

  Sis let out a squeak of joy and clapped her hands. A moment later, Big Brother opened the passenger door and helped Sis into the backseat. She ignored the seat belt and stood, leaning on the front seat. Brother then settled himself down beside Ruth.

  “I can take you there now. Why you want to follow stinky bus?”

  “Because my husband’s on it.”

  “He one of the jarheads?”

  “Marines,” Ruth automatically corrected the epithet she now knew to smile when she said, and better yet, knew not to say. “And since he may have to loan me an extra quarter for your tip, it’s Mr. Marine to you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, boss lady. Whatever you say.”

  The bus rumbled into life, and Ruth discovered why the kid called it stinky. The engine let off a blue cloud of poorly burned hydrocarbons that made Ruth want to cough.

  Sis held her nose and made a “Pee Euw” sound.

  Brother gave Ruth his “Whatever you say, woman, you’re paying for this,” shrug. Thankfully, the bus quickly got in gear.

  Ruth followed it out of the port.

  “It’s gonna turn left at this light,” Brother told her. It was a good thing Ruth had been warned; the bus did a quick left at the light without even slowing and nary a signal.

  Ruth hit her turn light and followed.

  “I told you so.” The boy grinned.

  “That’s worth an extra quarter,” Ruth assured him, keeping her eyes on the road, the traffic, and the bus.

  “It’ll take this on-ramp to the expressway,” the boy offered.

  “Expressway?” Ruth cringed inside. On Hurtford Corner, she’d never driven over forty, fifty kilometers an hour.

  She’d since learned that speeds on expressways . . . unless clogged with rush-hour traffic . . . could be a hundred or more. Swallowing her fear, Ruth followed the bus up the ramp. Again, no turn signal.

  She listened for her own turn signal; it made happy clicks. Yes, turn signals weren’t outlawed on this planet.

  But they did seem distressingly optional.

  At least for large buses.

  And trucks and anyone else who wanted in her lane.

  Everyone behind the wheel on this planet seemed possessed by some urgent death wish. Cars and trucks rocketed along at speeds that must have exceeded the Patton’s best, changing lanes with only inches to spare.

  The bus, not to be outdone, aimed itself for the far left lane as soon as it entered the highway and dared anything smaller to get in its way.

  Ruth started to follow.

  “I know the way to the embassy,” the kid assured her, “if you want to go slower.”

  The boy huddled on the seat beside her. Sis was no longer hanging over the front seat; a quick glance behind Ruth didn’t show Sis on the backseat.

  She must be cowering on the floor.

  Ruth started to ask if the two of them had ever been on an expressway before. Then swallowed the question, unwilling to strip the boy of his man-of-the-world airs.

  Ruth stayed in the slower right lane and let the bus disappear in traffic ahead.

  “Where is the embassy?” she asked her guide.

  “Near the river, a couple of blocks from Government Center,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Computer, show me the way to Government Center,” Ruth ordered. A map appeared on the dash in front of her, showing the expressway in red. The fifth or six exit ahead showed as
yellow and a trail led off it to the right.

  “Thank you, young man,” Ruth said as cheerfully as she could manage with a huge truck riding her bumper, eager to push her along.

  “Ah, you are welcome,” the boy said, the words seemingly strangers to his mouth.

  How often was the poor kid thanked for what he did?

  As Ruth motored along at a stately speed . . . and cars whizzed by her on the left . . . the children regained their confidence. Apparently, they’d never experienced the view the expressway offered. As they came over a rise and began the descent into the river valley, their excitement returned.

  “Oh, there’s the river,” the girl squealed.

  “Those tall buildings near the river are Government Center,” the boy offered.

  Ruth risked a glance. Several skyscrapers shot up in the center of town. Whether all of them were Government Center or just a few, Ruth didn’t know or ask.

  Not doubt, she would find out soon enough.

  SIX

  FIFTEEN ADRENALINE-FILLED MINUTES later, the kid pointed out the Society of Humanity’s new embassy, and Ruth pulled up behind the now-parked bus.

  Marines had formed loose ranks, with their kits in front of them, rifles slung. Trouble wanted the rifles in full view, though only he and Gunny’s sidearms were loaded. That was one of several hints that Ruth had picked up that this was not going to be just a case of the Marines showing up in fancy dress blues and saluting smartly.

  The kids seemed reluctant to leave the car, so Ruth pocketed the keys and headed for Trouble.

  He stood beside a young lieutenant in undress greens, observing as Gunnies did the work, a strange way of doing things, but apparently much required by the Navy Way.

  Ruth came to a halt several paces from her husband and waited to be recognized. It took only a moment for Trouble to turn a smile her way, reminding her why she loved the big galoot.

  “Lieutenant Tubby Vu,” Trouble said by way of introduction to the rail-thin officer, “I’d like you to meet my wife, Ruth.”

  “The infamous Trouble has a ball and chain?” The young man laughed as he offered Ruth his hand.

  She replied with a firm handshake, solid enough to show that she worked for a living, but not so tight as to challenge the man to a test of grips.

  He responded with a broadening grin.

  “My wife”—Trouble corrected Ruth’s official status—“is the ship farmer for the Patton. She’ll be nosing about town for equipment and supplies, so she may occasionally need some semiofficial help.”

  There, that provided Ruth with enough cover to hide a multitude of sins.

  “I’ll be glad to be of any service that I can. I’ll advise my Gunny to make sure the troops get The Word.”

  Was there a wink and a nod involved in the lieutenant’s communication with his newly arrived captain?

  As Izzy said, learning all the unofficial handshakes was a challenge.

  “Hon, do you have a couple of dollars? I need to pay off my native guides.”

  “Doesn’t your car have a map?” Trouble asked, with just a hint that if she didn’t know how to make it work, he’d explain it all to her later.

  “Oh, yes it does,” she answered sweetly. “Do you know that Savannah has no Society of Humanity Embassy on account of Unity being at war with Earth’s running dogs?”

  “Someone hasn’t updated their database?” Trouble said.

  “I think I said the same thing myself a few miles back,” Ruth said, smiling sunnily.

  “I have some Savannah dinars if you haven’t had a chance to get any local currency,” the lieutenant offered helpfully.

  “I promised them Earth dollars,” Ruth pointed out.

  “The official exchange rate is over eight to one.” The lieutenant frowned. “I’ve seen local cops break a street kid’s arm for overcharging a tourist.”

  “They wouldn’t . . .” Ruth started, then realized that was only one example of the kind of world she’d landed in. With a swallow, she changed her answer. “I promised them Earth dollars, and I always pay my debts. Captain?”

  Trouble reached in his pocket and came up with two one-dollar coins. “This ought to do it.”

  The kids had stayed in the car, their heads below window level. Gosh, they were short. In the few steps to the car, a plan came together in Ruth’s mind. She opened the passenger-side door and went down on one knee, level with the boy’s eyes.

  “I’m going to be doing a lot of traveling around town in the next couple of days. You seem to know your way around, and when you don’t, you have the right words to get the computer to answer my questions. Would you like to hire on with me?”

  Sis’s face lit up like a Lander’s Day fireworks display. Brother tried to look thoughtful, but failed when he saw the two coins in Ruth’s hand. “Two dollars a day, Earth?” he yelped.

  “Two dollars, each day, every day. You meet me across the street tomorrow morning, under that tree beside the bridge at eight.”

  It hit Ruth that the kids might very well sleep under the bridge that night to make sure they didn’t miss their date with her. No watch was in evidence.

  The boy seemed to read her mind. He scowled. “I know how to tell time. Eight it will be.” With that, he grabbed the coins, and he and his sister scooted off.

  “What was that all about?” Trouble asked, as Ruth rejoined him and the lieutenant.

  “I think I just hired some native guides for our port stay.” She laughed.

  The lieutenant seemed dubious. “You could do better than kids. For Earth dollars, half the cabbies in this town would sell you their cars.”

  “And other things,” Trouble added with a raised eyebrow.

  “Well, sir, yes, but she’s your wife.”

  “She’s the Patton’s contract farm manager,” Trouble corrected. “Get used to it, Tubby, the worlds are changing.”

  “So I’ve noticed. And here comes one of those changes. Your new boss, oh captain mine, and no longer my problem.”

  Ruth turned to see a tall woman striding toward them. Her beige suit highlighted her green eyes and blond hair. She offered Trouble her hand; as he shook it, she introduced herself.

  “I’m Becky Graven, the embassy’s first political officer. Think of me as the senior person inside that works for a living,” she said with just the hint of a smile.

  “I’m Captain Tordon. Most of my friends call me Trouble.”

  “So I’m told. For good reason?”

  “Maybe. Sometimes.”

  “All the time,” Ruth drawled, one woman to another.

  “And you are?” Ms. Graven said, turning to Ruth.

  “Ruth Tordon, contract farmer on the Patton. It’s a new business, and I’m still trying to get the right mix of gear, seed, and chemicals.”

  “Tordon,” Graven said, looking at Ruth, then at Trouble, “Tordon. No family resemblance.”

  “We’ve only been married two months, so it may not show that much,” Ruth quipped.

  Graven snorted. “A Marine officer’s wife. You poor sucker.”

  “A ship’s farmer,” Ruth repeated.

  “If you say so, dearie. A year from now, I’ll love to hear how it’s working out.”

  She turned to Vu. “Lieutenant, we’ve rented the building behind the embassy to quarter this new detachment as well as your own. Several of the Foreign Service Officers are moving off the economy and into the embassy. They’ll be taking your old quarters.

  “Wasn’t that building a prison?” Vu asked.

  “It’s presently office space. Before that, it was a prison, and before that, it was an apartment building. One thing you’ll learn about Savannah, things change fast around here. Occasionally for the good. Captain, will you walk with me for a few moments? Ruth, you might as well get the standard briefing from me now rather than secondhand from your husband.”

  Dismissing the lieutenant to his housekeeping chores, Graven turned and began to walk toward the river. Ruth hu
rried after her.

  Trouble delayed to order the young officer to “Carry on” and return a salute before he marched briskly to catch up.

  Marine officers did not run.

  Ruth had seen Trouble run. She squelched that memory of fire and explosions.

  At the river, Graven paused to glance up and down the empty promenade, “This ought to be secure if we keep walking and talk softly.”

  “It’s that bad?” Trouble observed.

  “Yes and no,” Graven answered quickly. “Unlike the ambassador, I don’t think we have to worry about anything so crass as peasants storming the legation. Unity made its play, fell flat, and most of its thugs and hoodlums are busy running for cover.” She paused to frown.

  “That may not be the case on Savannah. My intelligence officer swears that a load of fingerprint files were dumped in the river during the last days of the war. Now, some of the worst thugs and hard cases are employed by Milassi’s police force and secret police.”

  “Secret police aren’t allowed under the Society of Humanity’s constitution,” Ruth observed.

  “Right, but if you name it after the Central Bureau of Investigations back on Earth and use their table of organizations, it takes the civil rights watchdogs a while to spot how differently it works. I’ve signed off on the initial report. In a few years, they’ll get a task force out here to investigate.”

  “But not before the coming election,” Trouble concluded.

  “Smart for a Marine.”

  “Some of us are. What is this Senate committee looking into?”

  Graven gave them a sideways look. “Don’t be too smart, soldier. But if I’ve been informed correctly, the two of you are some kind of a team and you, Marine, are here to see to more than keeping the ambassador’s flower garden from being trampled.”

  Ruth and Trouble answered that with a slight nod.

  “You notice the industrial park on the drive in from the port?”

  “That bus driver was pulling more gees than I’ve had on some combat drops. I was busy just hanging on,” Trouble drawled.

  “Lots of factories,” Ruth observed. “Savannah’s supposed to be highly industrialized. Why did it go with Unity? I would think it would be selling its finished goods at as high a price as anything from the hub of humanity. It doesn’t match the usual profile for a rebel Unity planet.”