Hard Luck Hank: Prince of Suck

by Steven Campbell

  “Just relax, new guy,” MTB replied.

  My would-be assassin fiddled with his missile launcher as I delicately cocked my pistol, trying to avoid breaking it.

  A second missile hit me in the chest.

  When I could see clearly, my pistol was gone. Missiled away I guess.

  “Dammit,” I repeated.

  I knew I was now too close for him to use his weapon. Missiles have to travel a certain distance before they arm themselves, otherwise the user could get killed if it accidentally hits something on the way, like a branch or pane of glass or wire.

  He threw down the missile launcher and pulled out a revolver and began shooting me. As if seeing two Navy missiles fail to slow me it stood to reason that some really tiny unexploding missiles would do the trick.

  When that didn’t work, and I was getting closer, he thought it prudent to return to his many-hyphened homeworld.

  But the crowd surged back in and cut off his escape.

  I reached him and grabbed hold of his neck. The protestors pressed in once he was in my grasp, standing on tiptoes to watch.

  “I sentence you to—”

  I looked around at the crowd, whose eyes were all agog in anticipation. All they wanted was entertainment and a gallon of blood.

  Which I gave them.

  A gasp collectively went up as I dropped the remains of the criminal on the ground.

  Valia and MTB approached.

  MTB looked at the deceased attacker with unconcealed enthusiasm.

  Valia had her mouth open, staring at me.

  Out of nowhere, I saw an adjudicator running up, waving his arms.

  “Shut up,” I said to him, before he could speak.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Do you still want to be a Stair Boy?” I asked Valia, at the entrance to her apartment, wondering if yesterday’s events had dampened her enthusiasm for the job.

  “Come in,” she said.

  I did, as she returned to buckling her boots.

  “I understand why you killed that guy,” she answered simply. “You had to break up the crowd somehow. Almost everyone went home right afterwards. It’s like they came specifically to watch you fight. And he did attack you.”

  “I notice you haven’t asked for a gun yet.”

  She pulled out a pistol from her coat.

  “Where’d you get that?” I said, annoyed. “If you bought it on the black market, that’s supporting the exact stuff we’re trying to end.”

  “Be cool, I brought it with me to the station. Your scanners are terrible. That’s probably why guys can walk around with D78 rocket launchers and shoot at you.”

  “Thanks for volunteering,” I said after she was done dressing.

  “What did I volunteer for, by the way?”

  “We’re going on a special assignment today,” I said.

  “Just us two?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  MTB was a good Stair Boy, but he thought all that was required was a firm fist. As Supreme Kommilaire I had to do more than just beat up people. Yesterday I asked for volunteers and was pleased to see nearly all my men trusted me enough to go on a special assignment with no questions asked.

  “Is that what you came over to tell me? Or did you have other reasons?”

  Valia undid her coat in a blink and stood before me with her eyes narrowed and a devious grin. She had a much better body than I guessed. Her clothes must be so constrictive I’m surprised she didn’t have blood spurting from her ears.

  She was almost completely naked straight to her knee boots, waiting for my response, not the least bit shy.

  I stood there for ages. This woman was probably two hundred years younger than me, about the size of my arm, and about the weight of my pinky. She was attractive enough that she could have nearly any man on Belvaille.

  “Are you making fun of me?” I asked her.

  “Wha—no,” she said, surprised, her eyes blinking.

  “We’re going to visit Hobardi,” I continued. Valia quickly buttoned her coat as I spoke. “He is a religious leader on Belvaille. The Sublime Order of Transcendence. I’d guess about a fifth of the station are members—including a number of the Stair Boys. This is a problem. You understand?”

  Valia was fixing her hair hurriedly and straightening her outfit.

  “Hobardi, yeah.”

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Hank Block had moved numerous times. Wherever I lived was basically renamed Hank Block. Its current location came about because I wanted to have the closest access to the largest number of functioning trains. It was north central in terms of the city.

  Belvaille used to have trains everywhere. You almost never had to walk very far. But the equipment to run and repair them had been cannibalized for other purposes. Delovoa could fix the trains, I’m sure, but his time was better spent elsewhere. He did make sure all the remaining trains could carry me, however. Something I was quite thankful for.

  On the train I was thinking about the meeting coming up when I remembered what Valia had said in her apartment. I didn’t want her to be embarrassed about it.

  I looked over at her and saw her staring at me with the same cocky expression she’d worn when she was naked.

  Meh, she wasn’t going to be embarrassed.

  “What is the religion like?” she asked.

  “Nut jobs. Total fruitcakes. But don’t say that.”

  “I’m not stupid…”

  “Hobardi is a con man if there ever was one. And like any good con man, he’s smart. He has a mutant who works with him. I think my level or maybe even higher. He’s always with him. I want you to keep your eye on him.”

  “What are his abilities?”

  “I don’t know. See if you can pick up anything.”

  After a train transfer, we were back walking on the street. The clothes of the pedestrians had abruptly changed.

  People wore long colored togas with headdresses. There were whites, purples, oranges, yellows. The colors meant something, but damned if I knew what.

  Once we entered the main building of the Church, the personnel changed yet again.

  Instead of serene folks in bright togas, it was sexy women in scanty clothes.

  Hobardi was an extreme womanizer. His religion probably had its origins in a complicated pick-up line.

  I had ulterior motives in bringing Valia. I wanted an extra set of eyes, but I also wanted to throw off the perv Hobardi in our negotiations. I knew he would be enthralled with Valia, not just because she was good-looking, but because she was a Kommilaire. There were other female Kommilaire, it was true, but they tended to be a little on the butch side with five o’clock shadows and deep voices.

  An absurdly tall and thin man wearing sunglasses walked to meet us. He was Hobardi’s mutant. My nose didn’t work well, but he smelled bad.

  “What do you want with the Grandmaster?” he asked without laughing. That might have been his mutant ability: to refer to a charlatan as a “Grandmaster” and not smile. His very dour expression made it clear he was not kept around as comic relief.

  “To learn at his feet,” I said, also without laughing.

  “You the guy that fought those Dredel Led?” Which I thought was a weird thing to ask.

  “Sure,” I answered.

  He wordlessly walked with us to the next room, which was primarily occupied by a large, heated pool. There were recliners and exotic flowers and trees in here as well.

  The room made me uncomfortable, as my body was not able to regulate its temperature well and it was unbearably hot and humid.

  Hobardi walked up to us wearing a bathing suit. He was a fit man, muscular and tan. I heard he took all kinds of drugs and went through all kinds of surgeries and procedures to stay fit and attractive. It was much easier being a cult leader when you were handsome.

  Which left me out of the religion business.

  He wore necklaces and rings and talismans but they were unobtrusive. He had high cheekbones, per
fect hair, and his constant smile was so white you could probably bounce lasers off his teeth.

  “Hank, good of you to come,” he said.

  He held out his hand in some gesture, probably out of habit. I can’t remember if his disciples kissed or bowed or what, but it didn’t matter to me, I wasn’t his disciple.

  I merely nodded.

  “Who is your friend?” he asked, his eyes glowing with interest.

  I was really hot. I could shrug off missiles but a mist of warm water was incapacitating me. This was pretty humiliating.

  “My name is Valia,” she said, noticing my struggle.

  I was worried my condition was going to undermine my negotiations, but Valia again covered and she snapped off the top button of her coat and flung her hair around.

  “You’ll have to excuse us, we’re not dressed for this sauna,” she said sultrily.

  Hobardi probably didn’t even notice I was there at that point.

  “Valia. A beautiful name,” he said. “Come then, let’s retire to a more comfortable area.”

  Valia, Hobardi, and the mutant walked out as I followed behind, wiping the moisture from my face.

  Valia and Hobardi reclined on a couch in another room as I stood there trying to catch my breath. The mutant was impassive in his sunglasses. Valia had really taken over the situation and was flirting in her dominant manner with Hobardi, who looked almost like easy prey.

  I took a moment to squirt some food into my mouth, which helped. I’d been told in no uncertain terms that I looked “disgusting” while I was eating the greenish paste. Which was fine, food didn’t need to be pretty.

  “Right,” I began. “I need you to rescind the Brotherhood Commandment.”

  I think everyone had forgotten me.

  “What?” Hobardi asked.

  “Your Brotherhood Commandment. ‘No member of the Order shall harm another member of the Order.’ It makes policing this city impossible.”

  Hobardi smiled serenely.

  “I merely interpret the Will of the Prophet,” he said nonsensically.

  I couldn’t call him full of crap in his own temple, but he had made the Commandment specifically to make it difficult for my Kommilaire. His Order had their own police force and they sure as hell didn’t dispense brotherly love—unless it was compassion that led them to speed their adversaries into the blessed afterlife.

  Already I had instances where my Stair Boys had refused to act against other Order members and it had caused people to get hurt. I couldn’t have external groups exerting influence from within the Kommilaire. Not only did it make our jobs that much harder, but it might make us lose that last hair of credibility which turned the citizens on us.

  “I think you want to work with me on this. I can’t protect you, otherwise,” I said.

  “Protection? We are a peaceful religion,” he said, flanked by his mutant bodyguard, in a part of the city blockaded by his paramilitaries.

  “Maybe we can do something for you,” Valia said, dragging her fingernails across his jawbone and making him raise his head like a cat being stroked.

  “Are you planning on running for Governor in the election?” he asked me.

  “No. Who the hell would want that job?”

  “Me. I want you to back me for the position.”

  “I’m not backing anyone. No one even knows what the job does. What if we decide the Governor has to sweep the streets?”

  Hobardi paused to think of another angle.

  “If you’re not backing anyone, then help with the Olmarr Republic. They’ve kidnapped a member of my personnel. I want you to get him back.”

  “How do you know it was them? People go missing all the time. Despite our best efforts, this is still a dangerous city.”

  “They told us they had him right after he disappeared.”

  “Oh. That seems odd. Why would they take him? Who is he?”

  “A member of my church. Two Clem.”

  “Two Clem?” I asked, surprised. “The actor? He’s still alive?”

  Two Clem had been a big shot celebrity like a hundred years ago. I mean really famous. Funny hair and funny pants and starred in dramas. I had never seen his work but I had pulled a job for him once back when Belvaille was in the state of Ginland. I hadn’t thought about him much since then, but I assumed he was dead or had left Belvaille or both.

  “Yes, he’s alive,” Hobardi answered, irritated. “He’s a very important figure for the Order. Especially in communicating our message off-station.”

  “What?” I said, honestly confused.

  Then I remembered that the Sublime Order of Transcendence had actually managed to spread to places other than Belvaille. The religion was such a joke that it was hard for me to imagine anyone taking it seriously out of the poverty-stricken confines of gullible Belvaille.

  I suppose it made sense that he would use a celebrity, or former celebrity, to help him endorse his wares. I wonder if Two Clem actually believed in the Order. Two Clem didn’t like to share the spotlight and neither did Hobardi. Seemed an unusual fit.

  “I can talk to the Olmarr—” I started.

  “I don’t want you to talk. I want you to get my people back and kill Peush,” he said, who was the leader of the Olmarr Republic faction on Belvaille.

  “Who do you think I am?”

  Hobardi leaned forward on the couch, his eyes hard.

  “I think you’re Hank, and I know exactly who you are.”

  http://www.belvaille.com/hlh3/hobardi.gif

  CHAPTER 10

  I was at my apartment trying to trim my toenails.

  It wasn’t as easy as you might think. I couldn’t reach them for one. Not even close. And there was nothing that could cut them. If I shot them with a high-powered rifle, I’d just have mashed bullets all over my feet.

  I had a file I was using. But it took a long time and was tiring. I could get someone else to do this, I guess, but I’d just feel like a pampered idiot having someone else hack away at my feet for hours.

  The doorbell rang and I was thankful to put off my foot duty for a bit.

  MTB was outside in his gear—though I don’t think he ever took it off. He probably showered with a gun.

  “Boss, there’s trouble at the radio telescopes.”

  “Whoa. Round up who you can,” I said, indicating the apartments on the street, “we’ll leave in five.”

  The north edge of Belvaille was completely dominated by some relics of the Colmarian Confederation: giant telescopes.

  The old empire had used them to spy on the activities of neighboring species. Now they had taken on a completely different role and were used as broadcast instruments.

  Belvaille was of strategic importance for many reasons, but the telescopes were a prime one. I don’t know how they did it, but they could transmit data maybe a quarter of the way across the galaxy—as long as there was a single Portal hop in between.

  So we were the media hub of the…whatever the Colmarian Confederation had devolved into.

  Various parties put out propaganda, news, and entertainment shows. The telescopes were in operation every minute of the day and their use was extremely democratic: if you could pay an outrageous fee to the city, you could use the telescopes.

  MTB could only get about ten people, including Valia and himself.

  “What’s wrong with your toenails?” she asked, looking down.

  “Shut up, new guy,” I said.

  We took the train north.

  When we approached the installations, it was obvious there was trouble. There was a huge crowd of armed men in the street facing another huge crowd of armed men.

  Totki were on one side, as evidenced by their array of spears. Hong was whipping them into a frenzy as usual.

  The other side I guessed to be Olmarr.

  The Olmarr Republic concerned me more than any of the other groups. Despite what Zadeck said, I did keep some track of the goings-on outside of Belvaille. The Republic had successfu
lly unified a fair number of planets and even whole solar systems under their administration.

  And they considered Ceredus, the solar system that Belvaille resided in, their capital.

  The Olmarr were not done with the civil war. They weren’t tired of it like everyone else seemed to be.

  I didn’t know how to identify Olmarr. The Sublime Order of Transcendence wore robes and headdresses and other garb. The Totki were all of the same rough ethnic traits and styles and tended to live in large communities.

  The Olmarr were an idea.

  An understanding that there was some greater region of space that should all be aligned based on archaic historical precedence. They specifically made it hard to identify themselves. It was why I couldn’t think of how to find Two Clem. He could be anywhere, assuming the Olmarr had truly kidnapped him.

  My Stair Boys elbowed through the gathering and I saw Peush, the head of the Olmarr Republic on Belvaille.

  “Hank,” he said, smiling wonderfully.

  He was a tall man, middle-aged, with medical implants on his face and neck. He also had a beautiful speaking voice. A valuable attribute when your job is to broadcast speeches across the galaxy.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “They racist! They going to threaten us,” Hong cut in.

  “They are Blocking the Waves,” Peush countered, which was an official crime. You couldn’t interfere with telescope transmissions.

  Peush had about fifteen men with him, armed variously with clubs and chainsaws. But Hong had what looked to be over twenty-five.

  “You try and get us killed! Read this,” Hong thrust a dog-eared stack of papers into my face.

  “What’s this?”

  “That his speech.”

  I read the first few sentences:

  The Totki are sand rats. They spread disease and eat our food and provide no value to our great society. They must be eradicated as sand rats are, for they are not Olmarr and are not people.

  There were about thirty pages past that.

  “Where’d you get this?” I asked.

  “Don’t matter. We protect ourselves,” Hong answered.

  “Is this your real speech?” I asked Peush.

  “I have no interest in his delusions,” he said calmly.