Hard Luck Hank: Basketful of Crap

by Steven Campbell

  “Do you have the device?” they asked, interested.

  Whoops.

  “Uh. No.”

  Garm put her hand to her head.

  “Why do you even attempt lying?” she asked.

  “We would like the device returned,” they said.

  “Don’t you want the body of your sister?”

  “It is of no importance.”

  I stood there realizing they hadn’t cared about her. They wanted the disintegrator. They didn’t even ask for proof their sister was dead. I mean I could have found any old body. I had plenty of them.

  “From what I understand of it, it’s really dangerous. Just being near it can kill you. And there are other interested parties. Can I get back to you?”

  The Quadrad showed no expressions. They didn’t kiss me.

  “We would like to thank you for your assistance,” they said.

  They beamed me the last installment of my fee. They had paid me every week on the dot, but there was something very final and foreboding about this payment.

  “Are you Quadrad normally that disinterested when your sister dies?” I asked Garm.

  “I’m not sure how well they knew one another. We’re just like normal people.”

  “Totally,” I said. “Super normal.”

  “Your General wants to attack the corporation to try and apprehend your ‘Naked Guy’ or destroy the Portal.”

  “Well, those are both ideas, I’ll grant him that. I can’t think which one is worse. I mean, he has to know if you add up all the corporations they have tens of thousands of soldiers here. Not to mention tanks and APCs and AFVs and A-something-somethings. Yeah, they beat the guys at the dock, but that was a small number who weren’t prepared. As for the Portal, I heard they got like thirty Therezians to come visit.”

  “Yes. To me, that is far more dangerous. The Portal has to be shut down.”

  “Let’s go get something to eat while we talk.”

  “Why are you always eating? That can’t be good for you.”

  “It’s my body healing.”

  “I think once the technician told you that, you use it as an excuse to overeat. You can’t even stand up anymore.”

  “That’s my mutation!”

  “Sure.”

  “Punch me in the stomach,” I said, standing straight in front of her.

  “You don’t have to be macho and prove anything. I know you’re…massive. But that isn’t a good mutation.”

  “I didn’t get to choose it.”

  We hung around my apartment talking about what to do next until my grumbling stomach made her concerned.

  “Fine, I’ll take you to get some food.”

  I was trying not to make a mess, but Garm still wore a disgusted expression as I heaped food into my jaw.

  Suddenly, food hanging from my face, I grew reflective.

  “You know I’ve never had a good sense of touch, right? Like my hands?”

  “Yes, I remember well,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m kind of scared, though. I can’t feel anything in my hands anymore. And look,” I picked up the napkin dispenser, closed my eyes and smashed it on my face.

  “I can’t even feel this.”

  “You probably shouldn’t do that,” Garm cautioned.

  “I don’t know if it’s my mutation catching up to me, but I’m afraid I’ll freeze solid.”

  Garm, ever-comforting:

  “Don’t worry about it, Hank. The way things are going you’ll probably get murdered before you have a chance to ever become immobile.”

  I got a tele from Delovoa.

  “Hank, do you know two women with white skin who dress like whores?”

  “Why?”

  “They took the you-know-what.”

  I almost stopped eating. How did they know where Delovoa was? Or who he was? They must have been following me this whole time. I turned to Garm.

  “Don’t look at me. I didn’t want to let them out of their contract for a reason.”

  CHAPTER 67

  My tele woke me up the next day. A restaurant I liked to eat at was being ransacked.

  Not much I could do about it.

  I browsed my messages and saw it wasn’t an isolated incident. I realized people must have found out about the Portals being down. They’re rioting and grabbing all the food. My food!

  I called up Delovoa.

  “Hey, let’s go get some groceries,” I said.

  “Are you crazy? The streets are full of looters.”

  “I don’t mean go out for brunch. I mean go loot some food. We’re going to starve with no Portals.”

  “Oh. Come over then.”

  There were no disturbances where I was because there were no people where I was. The trains were empty. As I transferred closer to Delovoa’s, I could see fires and the streets packed with rioters. I couldn’t understand what was burning. It’s a metal city.

  The General came on my tele.

  “Surrogate!” He barked. I hadn’t even answered it. He just yelled at me from my own tele. It was like having your pillow slap you awake.

  “What?”

  “We’re going to use the disturbances to move against the principal target.”

  I wasn’t sure which one that was but either way I didn’t care.

  “I’m going to get food.”

  “Food won’t matter if we don’t cease their operations.”

  “It will matter to me.”

  “Rendezvous with us at Alonkin and 12th.”

  He just wasn’t getting it so I decided to change gears.

  “I’m in pursuit of the original thing you hired me to get.”

  “How close are you to recovering it?”

  “Close.”

  And I was. Sort of. I mean I had it at one point—I just lost it.

  I hung up my tele and hoped he didn’t access it again and confirm my lie. Fortunately, he didn’t.

  Delovoa opened the door and he was covered head-to-toe in thick padding.

  I laughed, as it made him look fat.

  “What is that?”

  “This is my riot gear.”

  “I need a gun.”

  “You have an Ontakian pistol,” he exclaimed.

  “I don’t want to fry people. They’re just stealing food. Like us.”

  “Come on,” he said, leading the way to his basement.

  He was almost as wide as me with his riot gear on and Delovoa was not a large person normally.

  As he held the railing walking down the ramp to his basement, I just couldn’t help myself and pushed him in the back.

  He fell on his chest, bounced a little, turned sideways, and got his legs stuck in the railing.

  My kidneys almost shot out my nostrils I laughed so hard.

  “Haha. Get me up,” he said, squirming.

  I actually took a few extra seconds, not to be cruel, but because I realized that was what I looked like when I fell down.

  “What if I had hurt myself?” he asked.

  “Did you manage to figure out the a-drive before they took it?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “It’s some of the most advanced technology in the galaxy. They probably had thousands of scientists working on it. Billions of credits devoted to it. You’re asking me if I discovered all its mysteries in less than a day?”

  I didn’t answer, because I didn’t want to hear his snarky response.

  “No,” he answered anyway, “I did not ‘figure it out.’”

  “So what did the Quadrad do to you?”

  “Nothing. That I know of.”

  “How did they steal the device?”

  “I don’t know. I came out of the basement. Saw them there, then woke up in my bed. If they hit me it didn’t leave a mark or give me a headache. What are you going to do when you find them?”

  “Not sure if I can find them. It took me forever to find a dead one right outside my front door. Not sure why they stole the disintegrator. They have nowhere
to go. Is it safe down here without suits?”

  “Yeah, the device is gone.”

  “But the corpse. Is it radioactive?” I said, hoping I was using the right term.

  “The corpse is gone too.”

  “What? So that’s two corpses you’ve had taken from your basement?”

  “I guess. How about this?”

  He handed me a rifle that had what looked like four barrels and three triggers and even a keypad and screen on it. It smelled funny.

  “I don’t like it,” I said, putting it back.

  “Hank, technology keeps moving forward. That’s the way the universe works.”

  We walked some ways down.

  “How about this?” he said, indicating an enormous pile of metal that I’m pretty sure was a car engine hooked up to a barrel.

  “That looks like another autocannon fiasco. I just need something to get us through the mob.”

  “Walk through. Who’s going to stop you?”

  “Hmm.”

  Delovoa fashioned me some quickie riot gear. Unlike his it wasn’t padded at all. The whole point was to make it so that if anyone ran into me, they would want to move away. No one was going to knock me down and I could push through just about any number of people.

  He took some thick synth and studded it with nails and strapped it to my chest, legs, and arms. He gave me a helmet to cover my eyes. He wrapped my forearms in metal bands. The final touch was adding a chain from my waist to his waist so I could pull him out if need be.

  I felt like a tank. Even with all this extra metal, I didn’t move any slower.

  We headed to the train, joined at the hip, dressed like idiots. Delovoa pushed a wheelbarrow which we hoped to fill with foodstuffs. It was the same one we carried Toby in, but we scrubbed it out first.

  “I shouldn’t be going,” Delovoa said.

  “You need food too.”

  “You dated Garm, right?” he asked conversationally.

  “Yeah. That was a while ago.”

  “Who broke it off, you or her?”

  “I think it was mutual.”

  “So her. And she’s Quadrad? Did she ever wear an outfit like those women did?”

  “Not around me. I could have put up with an awful lot more I think if she did.”

  “And no one since then?”

  “Not really. There was that other mutant, Jyen. You met her. But we were never remotely a match. She left like five years ago—once she fully understood how pathetic Belvaille was. I never really expected to find the love of my life here. Everyone is damaged goods. It’s one thing to hang around and work here. But it’s totally different to be romantically involved.”

  We were silent for some time.

  “Since you didn’t ask,” he said, annoyed, “I’ve learned to separate the physical from the emotional. Somewhat like you. I don’t think I can truly be in love with someone who is not my intellectual equal—fat chance on Belvaille, right? I use an organ I invented.”

  I couldn’t help it.

  “Organ?”

  “Not biological. Like a musical organ. It’s a machine. It knows 153 physical pleasures to induce.”

  “Like a back rub?”

  “No, Hank, not like a back rub.”

  “One hundred and fifty-three? I can think of like…five.”

  “No wonder Garm left you.”

  CHAPTER 68

  Delovoa and I had done our stealing and carted our ill-gotten goods home.

  I felt a little bad about robbing from the stores I frequent, but not as bad as starving to death.

  “Where have you been?” Garm asked. She was waiting at my front door.

  “Looting.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “Loot-suit.”

  I wrestled my wheelbarrow inside. Delovoa ate like a mouse so most of the food was mine.

  “Have you talked to the Navy?” Garm asked me.

  “Not really.”

  “They attacked the corporation.”

  “Can’t imagine that went well.”

  I unpacked my food, trying to find room in my kitchen.

  “They lost something like fifty people. Your Naked Guy is bunkered in the southeast. He must have twenty tanks around him.”

  “The General told you this?” It surprised me that they were talking. Especially if I was a Surrogate-thing.

  “No, I followed them.”

  “Yeah, he didn’t call me. Probably because he didn’t want to hear a big ‘I told you so.’”

  She slapped a packet of rations out of my hands.

  “Would you stop worrying about your stupid food! Four more Therezians have come through, we’re running out of Navy, and you said the corporation was trying to start a galactic war.”

  “Yeah, but how?” I asked calmly. “You said yourself we’re stuck out here at the edge of the galaxy. Even if they have other Portals in the freighters, they’ll never transfer the Therezians to them. They won’t fit in shuttles. Hell, I don’t even know if they’ll fit in freighters.”

  “So you’re fine with us being stepped on?”

  “No, but the Portal is guarded by Therezians and operated by Gandrine. What can I do about it?”

  “It’s just math, Hank. Enough big feet walking around will eventually kill us. Or damage life support. We have to stop the Portal if nothing else. The Navy will come to repair our space Portals. They have a-drives. But it could take months or even years. We won’t live that long if they keep importing giants.”

  I sighed.

  “See if you can get any leads on your sisters.”

  I gave Delovoa a tele.

  “You didn’t eat all your food already, did you?” he answered.

  “Hey Delovoa, have you had a chance to brush up on your ancient Colmarian dialect?”

  CHAPTER 69

  We waited until night, but the food riot turned into a general riot.

  What people expected to do with a new wardrobe in Belvaille’s current situation was anyone’s guess.

  Delovoa and I met up at five in the morning because we figured looters slept in. One of our connecting trains was derailed. It was actually on the ground. I had never seen that in my more than a century on Belvaille. How did a bunch of malcontents manage to knock a train off its tracks?

  Delovoa had two huge suitcases full of equipment, which I carried.

  “This is a terrible mistake,” Delovoa said.

  “If you’ve been spending years learning ancient Colmarian you must have figured you were going to be doing this sooner or later.”

  “I thought it might break out, not that we would release it on purpose.”

  We came to the only block without a name. The so-called Nameless Block, whose name, of course, was a contradiction.

  There was a giant metal sphere fused with the road about halfway up the block.

  Inside the bubble was ZR3. The robot who had gone on a rampage and had given me a permanent limp, had broken Wallow’s ankle, and killed innumerable Navy soldiers, and it took a level-ten mutant just to stop it—not even destroy it.

  “Practice this phrase,” Delovoa said, as he readied his equipment. “Shaeol Bruesti.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Stop.”

  “Can’t you say it?”

  “If it kills me, you’re going to want to know it. And here.”

  He handed me a big tarp. We had a theory that ZR3 “might” deactivate when it was denied light. So I was going to chase around a homicidal robot, who was the biggest badass on the station, with a blanket.

  It was hours and hours of Delovoa drilling and cutting at the bubble.

  I didn’t know if we could control ZR3, but I knew it had beat up Wallow. I hoped it could take out the Portal.

  If it went crazy again, well that would just be another thing to worry about. I practiced the phrase as I waited.

  Delovoa backed away from the sphere but it looked completely intact.

  “What have you bee
n doing all this time?” I asked.

  “Weakening it.”

  I was about to ask when I heard scraping. The metal sphere was very slowly deforming. ZR3 was pushing out from the inside!

  I got my blanket ready. I should have wet it first so it would be stickier and have some weight.

  I could see the bubble separating along Delovoa’s mathematically precise incisions.

  As the containment sphere was about to split apart completely, Delovoa yelled the phrase.

  All movement stopped.

  Delovoa looked back at me with a relieved expression.

  “Wasn’t sure that would work,” he said.

  We did not know what ZR3 was, if it was a Dredel Led robot or an ancient Colmarian robot or something altogether different. We knew it responded to some ancient Colmarian phrases and had sat in Delovoa’s basement, deactivated, for over a decade until we accidentally woke it up.

  We could see its legs sticking out from its burst metal cocoon. It was about eight feet tall, half that wide, and three feet deep. Solid white in color, with no rivets or screws or bolts anywhere.

  Its arms and legs were square columns and it lacked hands. Delovoa speculated it was designed to push something. It had no head or neck, but the front contained a dark hole that looked like a single eye. In simple, large black letters on its right front was stenciled “ZR3.”

  When you said those letters, it would answer in the affirmative. We didn’t know if that was its name or translated into something else. Such as, “Do you like the smell of peppermint?”

  “You ready to try this?” he asked.

  Seeing it right there, I was really having my doubts. It was the cause of my only permanent injuries.

  Most Colmarians, since we were little children, were told scary stories about robots—we had none in our entire empire. They were illegal. Dredel Led were an unfriendly robotic species. So we were suspicious, terrified more like it, of all robots.

  ZR3 sat under a tarp in Delovoa’s basement perfectly content and then went on a killing spree, perfectly content. You can’t reason with a machine. Delovoa and I were armed with keywords and blankets, that’s the logic of robots. Even Therezians I could understand. I couldn’t hurt them, but I could understand them.

  “I suppose,” I said uneasily.

  Delovoa spouted more gibberish and ZR3 continued his push out. That was steel alloy and it was walking through like it was thick soup.