Hard Luck Hank: Basketful of Crap

by Steven Campbell

  I cast the net out far and wide looking for more recruits.

  I was giving my officers signing bonuses if they could get able-bodied men willing to march to their deaths.

  Garm lent me her skills when it came to organizing the warehouse and how to disperse it to my soldiers efficiently. She also made a list of the number and types of squads we would have.

  It was a vast improvement over what I had been going to use: a huge crowd of guys with guns walking forward. We really were starting to resemble an army.

  My reconnaissance units didn’t have a lot to report. It’s hard to get an accurate tally of soldiers who are clones. There were no tanks, but there were roof snipers and emplaced machine guns.

  Again, I tapped Garm to help me with tactics.

  “You know this is suicide, don’t you?” Garm said pleasantly.

  “How can you say that after you’ve seen all the men I have and all the equipment?”

  “You’ve hired a bunch of loan sharks and counterfeiters and drug addicts. Giving them automatic weapons isn’t suddenly going to make them capable warriors.”

  “What do you want me to do, Garm?”

  “Keep your eyes open. This whole thing stinks. Why are they using you when they have far more competent people on their own payroll?”

  “They’re not even paying them,” I muttered.

  We had told Garm about the clones but it didn’t faze her. I doubted she cared if the corporations used magic spirits as long as she got paid.

  “When are you going to attack?” she asked.

  “Can’t say. I’m not letting anyone know until the hour, hopefully it will keep it a surprise.”

  “You advertised it in The News…”

  “Not the date and which corporation. I’m going to have a few drills with the boys. If anyone is tipping off the corporation, we’ll see them react.”

  “Well. Good luck,” Garm said, after taking in a deep breath.

  “Thanks.”

  She gave me a hug. She wasn’t a big woman, but she was strong.

  “You’re making me feel like I’m never going to see you again,” I said sadly.

  “You have to see me again. You owe me money.”

  I thought she was making a joke.

  “What do I owe you money for?”

  “This. Helping you put your structure together.”

  “You said it was free!” I yelled.

  “No, I didn’t!” She yelled back, obviously not joking.

  “You’re going to fleece me right before I go off to war?”

  “It’s not like I made you. Besides, I’m probably saving your life.”

  “Unlikely. How much do you want for this theoretical help?”

  “A hundred thousand.”

  “You’re nuts! I wouldn’t give that if you walked in front of me and took the first bullet.”

  “Yeah, like someone is going to hit me when they have your fatness as a target. You’re paying these toothless codgers 30,000—”

  “To fight! Not to scribble notes.”

  “Fine, I’ll take my organization charts with me.”

  “I already stored them to tele.”

  “I hope you die in your stupid fight,” she said, storming away. She got halfway to my door when she stopped. “Good luck, Hank.”

  “Thanks, Garm. And good luck with…”

  And I left it there. Soulful. Mournful.

  “With what?” she asked quietly.

  “With being less bitchy.”

  CHAPTER 48

  The morning of the raid I sent word to assemble at the warehouse, getting my officers in place first.

  This was the fourth time I had called everyone together so we could get in practice and hopefully throw off any spies. My own spies had never reported any changes in Intergalactic Brands Ltd activity.

  My other spies, Cad and his friends, still hadn’t reported back from their work trailing the Gandrine, but I couldn’t bother with that now.

  I had sergeants in the warehouse handing out equipment in a semi-orderly fashion and bashing the heads of those who tried to take more than they were allotted.

  The officers organized the men into squads, platoons, and regiments. We didn’t know if those were the right names but they were the first ones we came up with. Without Garm’s help we would never have even left the warehouse. We weren’t exactly an efficient machine but at least we weren’t a mob.

  I had one job only, and that was to pay people. Half up front.

  You’d think it would be a simple job, but I had people show up who weren’t on the list, people try and claim their money multiple times, people use the names and identification of others.

  Likewise, I knew men were going to be streaming in over a long period of time. These guys weren’t exactly early-risers. But that gave us time to sort things out.

  After four hours, I figure we had just about everyone we were going to get. From my tally it was 753 men. I had signed up a little over 900, so a combination of cold feet, hangovers, and whatever else had dwindled our numbers. Hopefully the worst had dropped out, but logic told me it was the poorest with the least to lose who had stayed.

  Delovoa had provided incendiary devices to about fifty of them. They were basically my anti-tank units. Because he was right, I didn’t have any guns that could take on heavy armor. But we could cook those inside nonetheless.

  Balday-yow walked up to me.

  “I think you should give a speech.”

  I looked over the sea of 753 fighters. I did a few tele calculations.

  “Gentlemen, ladies,” the crowd grew quiet. “I have decided that instead of 15,000 credits at completion I owe you, everyone will instead get 16,872.”

  Exhilaration! I had planned on saying a few more things, but I couldn’t be heard over their cheers and it would be anti-climactic at this point.

  Now we had to move.

  Quietly. Quickly. And without killing one another.

  I didn’t even have a moment to think how in over my head I was, as my officers were constantly asking me questions.

  We took five different routes using three trains. We knew how long each train took and how long it would take to reach each train. We coordinated by tele so we would hopefully arrive at the same time. Delovoa had worked all this out.

  My group departed last because I was taking a train as directly to the corporation as possible. My regiment had to move at my speed and I was slow.

  “So what do you want me to do?” Bronze asked, enthusiastically. I had made him my personal valet.

  “Stand behind me. If you get hurt, Garm will murder me.”

  “We’re splits, you know. I have a new lady now.”

  “Yeah, well, Garm has a long memory.”

  There was very little talking as we rode the train. There was even less talking as we walked the last blocks to the rendezvous. The boyish high spirits that had pervaded earlier practice runs were long gone.

  We reached our street and waited for the other groups to signal they were in position. We stood there for tense minutes, which felt like hours. We were two hundred men wide open in the street. Just blocks from the corporation we were to attack.

  What if the other regiments’ trains failed? What if gang fights broke out amongst them?

  Finally, I got a tele confirming the other groups were in position.

  The spies reported no response from the corporation.

  I took out my autocannon and readied the straps. I didn’t load it because I wasn’t sure what I would be fighting yet.

  I gave the tele command to march forward.

  Balday-yow was the commander of one regiment. He reached the corporation first. We could hear gunfire and explosions from the next block.

  I tried to hurry up.

  My tele showed the other groups had made contact. The sounds of fighting were coming from all sides now. The metal buildings of Belvaille amplified and distorted the combat.

  We got in view of a sandba
gged emplacement at the end of the block.

  I loaded an HE shell into my autocannon but the rest of my army surged past me, screaming and shouting and firing their guns. I couldn’t shoot through them.

  But it didn’t matter. The two helmeted soldiers didn’t even get a chance to move before they were shot.

  I watched as my army ran ahead of me, all semblance of order gone. It was like little children playing glocken. Except with firearms.

  I saw a grenade go off in the distance and witnessed several enemy soldiers fall off roofs. My men were out of control now and steamrolling through the corporation territory, shooting anything that stood still.

  These were the avenging hands of Belvaille come to take back their city from the corporations! I couldn’t stop them now if I tried.

  We pushed deeper in and I looked at my tele for an update on the others.

  My tele was blank!

  I grabbed another slow-moving soldier next to me and got him to look at his tele. It was also blank. A completely dark screen.

  No one could jam teles except the Navy.

  As I was wondering how this was possible, the lights overhead went out. The latticework went dark!

  This was impossible.

  The hoots and hollers from the soldiers died down and were replaced with hundreds of concerned mumbles. The shooting mostly stopped as they couldn’t see anything to shoot at.

  I kept going forward to try and reach the bulk of my men. I grabbed Bronze to make sure he stayed next to me.

  “Hold your ground,” I called out. “Stay together and keep your eyes open.”

  There were a few flashlights here and there that men had. From what I could see from the light, my army had completely lost its momentum and was just milling around, confused.

  I heard a roar behind us. From the direction we had originally come from. It was metallic, high-pitched and deep at the same time.

  Suddenly we were bathed in blinding white lights from dozens of spotlights. We stood there stupidly. The once-conquerors reduced to shielding our eyes.

  BOOM!

  Two explosions happened simultaneously. One from the direction we came and one right in the middle of our troops.

  That wasn’t an APC. It wasn’t an armored fighting vehicle.

  That was a tank.

  A real tank with a real tank gun. Now I knew what Delovoa had meant when he made the distinction. It took up the entire street.

  Panic!

  Tracer rounds erupted from all around the tank, blanketing our position. It was impossible to tell how many men they had firing at us, but it was substantial.

  I heard an explosion up one of the adjacent blocks so I knew the other groups were facing the same thing we were.

  This was a set-up.

  “Throw incendiaries! Throw your firebombs at them!” I yelled.

  I wasn’t expecting to roast the tank, it was too far away, and its armor probably too thick, but we couldn’t see anything.

  A few piles of fire ignited in the road. I repeated my orders. More appeared.

  From that, we could see the soldiers. Their uniforms showed they weren’t Intergalactic Brands Ltd. There were hundreds of them swarming around the tank.

  We had our backs to the very edge of the space station with tanks between us and freedom.

  My men began firing, finding any cover they could, which was scant.

  BOOM!

  Just the shockwave of the explosion behind me was deafening.

  There was no way we could fight this.

  “Retreat!” I screamed. I said it as many times as my voice could handle.

  I fired the HE round that was in my gun and I saw a dozen enemy soldiers fall.

  I loaded a canister round and fired and saw more drop.

  But it was like trying to stop an ocean tide by throwing rocks at it. The clones were marching forward and they didn’t seem to care about cover or HE rounds or dying.

  I fired another high-explosive, aiming at a wall to their right, and dozens dropped.

  I dropped my autocannon. It was only when it was off that I realized I had somehow stayed on my feet when I fired it.

  “Run!” I said to everyone again, and then I saw blackness.

  I looked around. I was on the ground. Lots of people were on the ground. I had to get off the ground.

  I struggled to my feet. My feet hurt. They were bleeding. I needed shoes.

  I saw someone next to my feet.

  It was Bronze. I picked him up and threw him over my shoulder.

  South.

  Through the docks. That was the only way. Tanks couldn’t drive through there and an army couldn’t follow easily.

  I hobbled through the connecting alley to the next block. They were faring no better than we were. My soldiers were in a pitched battle shooting their rifles at tanks. One was partially ablaze and from that light I could see several more tanks behind it. And countless, absolutely countless corporate soldiers.

  I tried to tell them to retreat. I don’t know if I did or not. If anything came out of my mouth.

  I saw the decals on the tanks were different than the ones in my block. It was a different corporation.

  I kept going south.

  Men were running past me. Running around me. Running into me.

  My feet hurt. My body hurt.

  The lights were off even here. I walked into walls. Into crates. I saw a heavy lifter sitting there loaded with goods and I thought about getting in it to try and drive to safety. I was so tired. But a heavy lifter was slow and a huge target.

  I had to stop somewhere. I had to rest.

  If I stop, I’ll pass out. And they’ll find me. Find us.

  Bronze. He was still on my shoulder.

  Come on, I knew this city.

  No one knew this city like I did. Maybe Garm. Maybe Orgono Dultz, the guy who worked on the sewers.

  I didn’t need light. Think. Where could I hide?

  I headed deeper into the dock, to the port itself where the ships were anchored.

  Fumbling through, I found a small freighter.

  You couldn’t access the passenger compartments without going through quarantine, but you could access the hold. No one would go into the hold of a ship, as you would be instantly killed if it disembarked.

  Let’s hope it didn’t disembark.

  I closed and locked the hold. I put Bronze down and I pushed over several heavy boxes in front of the door, doubting it would help if they actually found us.

  “Bronze. Bronze!” I leaned over him.

  His eyes were glassy and half-closed. There was blood on his face and chest and hands.

  “Bronze!” I screamed.

  But he was gone.

  I didn’t know the man. Not well at all. But in that cargo hold I sat down and wept for him. I had never shed a tear for anyone who had died before. And I’ve seen many people killed in my time.

  But I cried for Bronze Badel Bardel because it felt like something of me died. Something bright, and happy-go-lucky, that always smiled, and got even Therezians telling you their life stories.

  Some part of me that might have been but never got the chance.

  CHAPTER 49

  I didn’t know where I was or that I had even been unconscious until I woke up. That’s right, I was in the hold of a ship.

  Next to Bronze.

  Who was dead.

  I got to my feet and hobbled a few painful steps and it was like my legs were fused together. Was this it? Had I sustained so much damage that I was about to become a statue?

  Looking at my feet closer, it appeared as if I had rubbed ground meat all over them. My entire lower legs were bloody and torn. Large chunks of skin were cut away or hanging. It was not pretty.

  I assumed a tank shell had landed near my feet. Or…I don’t know what happened. Maybe I skipped through a minefield. It didn’t matter. I frankly didn’t remember much of the fight at all.

  I checked my tele and it was back online. I sta
red at it for some time trying to make sense of things. Yes. Eighteen hours had passed since the fight. That’s how long I had been in here.

  I wasn’t weightless and I wasn’t dead, so the ship was still at port.

  As the cobwebs began to clear from my head and the pain started seeping into my legs, I felt an odd sensation.

  I was terrified.

  I was really unbelievably scared. How was I going to get out of here? I had no weapons, meatbags for feet, and somewhere between one and four armies might be out there looking for me with enough firepower to kill me a million times over.

  I recall they had jammed the teles. Not sure how, but they did. I was afraid if I tried to call someone the corporations might be able to track me.

  I took a few steps to the door, my whole body swaying with the effort. I estimated it would take me two years to walk back to my place at that speed. And even then they might have three tanks at my front door, keeping the Gandrine company.

  It was absurd, but after all those serious thoughts, my stomach rumbled so loud I worried the ship was going to fall apart.

  My body needs fuel to repair itself. My mutation might be able to heal my wounds, with time, but I needed food and rest.

  I was so unbelievably hungry I actually looked over at Bronze and absently wondered if I could eat him. He wouldn’t mind.

  Bleh!

  Your mind goes to weird places in the extremes of hunger. When you’re suffocating, the things you’d do for air make no rational sense to your normal-breathing self.

  Before safety, before a hospital, I wanted food. Lots of it.

  There weren’t any restaurants in the docks. The buildings weren’t the right construction. I didn’t even have saliva in my mouth to water when I thought of all the glorious food possibilities. I was running on fumes.

  It didn’t matter. I had to get out of here. If there was an army sitting outside with their guns trained on the door that was fine. I would eat one of them before they killed me.

  I threw aside the crates that were blocking the door with my newfound hunger-strength. I rushed outside, prepared for a hail of bullets, but there was nothing.

  I turned left and right, up and down. Nothing. The lights were back on. It was as if our battle hadn’t happened.

  Part of me was almost disappointed. I wanted to get thrown into conflict so I wouldn’t think about how hungry I was.