Hard Luck Hank: Prince of Suck

by Steven Campbell

  As my heart was seizing up I tried to occupy myself by counting the squares on Delovoa’s carpet. No, they weren’t squares, they were triangles. Or squares in triangles? Dumb carpet.

  It was like I was underwater holding my breath. Maybe I was in space. Belvaille had finally lost its protective shield—probably because Delovoa had forgotten to fix it while he was off trading for ducks.

  Time goes weird when you’re dying. I could feel a lifetime slide by. Not a particularly interesting lifetime, though. Maybe the life of a librarian who wasn’t allowed to read any books.

  When I came around, Delovoa was next to me looking worried.

  “How long was I down for?” I asked.

  “Hank!” Delovoa cried. “I-I don’t know. Maybe a couple minutes.”

  “Felt like forever.”

  “Do you want some water?” he asked, uncertain.

  “No, just let me rest.”

  Delovoa squatted down next to me.

  “This isn’t the first time, is it?”

  “How could you tell?”

  “You seemed bored.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Hobardi would have to wait. I didn’t know how to find Two Clem and the evidence pointed to the Olmarr not abducting him. If he even was abducted.

  I would have to try and figure out another way to get Hobardi to reverse the Brotherhood Commandment as that was going to become more and more annoying.

  Right now, however, protecting the Ank was key.

  I put the word out I was looking for a guy with four arms. Belvaille had a lot of people, but four arms were still pretty uncommon in a galaxy full of mutants and aliens.

  Found one guy pretty fast, but he was the shape of a blubbery boulder and his four arms were little nubby things. Found a different guy with five arms and a woman with three arms, but I was pretty sure this was a case of close didn’t count.

  Delovoa had done more research on 19-10’s armor. All he learned was the manner in which the armor portaled.

  A Portal or a-drive could move long distances really fast. Instantaneously.

  The Messahn armor could move very short distances very slowly, which was why it hadn’t suddenly dominated the war. It wasn’t all that useful.

  Delovoa guessed it actually took the battlesuit longer to reach a spot than it did to walk to that place normally. But the deal was, you could bypass everything in the way and be undetectable, because it was spinning through some parallel dimensions.

  Apparently our normal XYZ axes weren’t the only physical dimensions that existed and there were a whole slew of other ones that folded over, into, through each other and on top of ours; which was why it took so long for the armor to move, because it was actually traversing a greater distance and trying not to get lost in the process. Delovoa tried to draw it for me and explain, but the upshot was I couldn’t see 19-10 or shoot him when he was travelling like that, and that was all I needed to know.

  Beyond this theory, Delovoa didn’t know much about it. But that gave me a lot. It meant the owner had to have come to Belvaille in a ship. No way someone “walked” through space unless they left a trillion years ago.

  Delovoa also said that like an a-drive, 19-10 couldn’t carry anything with him, just the armor—and the owner inside. He had those guns attached to his hands, but those things likely wouldn’t hurt me, so I wasn’t terribly worried about being assassinated.

  19-10 must also have some way of seeing where he was going. Otherwise he could accidentally appear inside a wall or floor. So he knew the Ank were in that room, and I was in that room, and it was indeed a planned attack.

  I just couldn’t figure out why.

  So far no one knew the Ank had been shot. The markets were calm. All the news was about the elections.

  What do you gain by shooting an Ank in the thigh? Or three Ank in three thighs? It sounded like the set up for a bad joke.

  I was out driving with about thirty Kommilaire when I got word of a disturbance to the west.

  We headed out there and stopped well away.

  It was a gigantic riot. Or demonstration. Or something. It was the Totki. You could tell because every damn person carried a polearm of some kind.

  It was difficult to tell how many there were, but hundreds. I heard from the loudspeakers a news report.

  “I’m wondering what the Supreme Kommilaire’s views on this are,” Rendrae said. I heard his voice in stereo and noticed he was standing right next to me pushing the microphone under my nose.

  The mob down the street stopped and momentarily quieted.

  “Um…” I answered, hearing my voice echo across the city. “So what has happened exactly? I just got here.”

  “Su Dival has died. The Totki say he was murdered,” Rendrae stated.

  My arms were heavy and I did not normally lift them above my waist unless I had to. So most of the time I stood around with my arms straight down at my sides. But I reached up and put my hand to my face. Even though I couldn’t feel my face and couldn’t feel my hand.

  It was just bad, bad news.

  Su Dival had been the absolute leader of the Totki. I had rarely spoken with him, but he was basically an older, meaner version of Hong: militant, jingoistic, unreasonable, with an even thicker accent. Now, presumably, Hong was the leader of the Totki. And there were hundreds of them wielding spears on the streets of Belvaille.

  This could be it. This could be the catalyst that destroyed the city for good.

  I could see them all. They were a few blocks away waiting for my response. I had thirty Stair Boys at my side who couldn’t dream of stopping that many people.

  I needed to find a scapegoat and I needed to find one fast.

  “I swear as Supreme Kommilaire the responsible parties will be found and executed,” I said as harshly as possible.

  About half the Totki cheered that, but I could see the rest weren’t satisfied. They weren’t marching with spears to improve their cardiovascular fitness. They didn’t pour out onto the street for words.

  But maybe some words would help. I took the microphone from Rendrae.

  “The last time I spoke to Su Dival, I was struck by his commitment to peace. His compassion. The Onyeu people had a symbol called zshu-maen which embodied truth and love and wisdom. Su Dival was those things, he was a zshu-maen,” I said. Just blurting out whatever nonsense I could think of and hoping no one took offense that I basically called him a duck.

  I was hoping my fear came across as sorrow and earnestness.

  The mob didn’t cheer, but I could see the direct effect of my words. It was tough to be bloodthirsty in the memory of a purported man of peace.

  Rendrae’s eyes were twinkling. He loved news. Any news. He would take notes and print an editorial on doomsday.

  “What do you think this means for the Totki’s chance in the election, since Su Dival was their choice for Governor?” he asked.

  I cursed by accident and heard my cusswords reverberate on the loudspeakers.

  “I am certain he would have made an excellent Governor with his qualities.”

  “Did that mean you endorsed him?” Rendrae prodded.

  I did my best to control my temper. I couldn’t believe Rendrae was trying to cook up a juicy story when we were across the street from a mob that was a shade away from violence.

  There was a long-ass pause as I stood in front of those thousands of “mourners.” My breathing could be heard over the loudspeakers.

  “Yes. I endorsed him. Though I had not come out officially yet.”

  If a city could gasp, Belvaille gasped.

  Even the unflappable Rendrae was startled.

  “Then does that mean you endorse the Totki alternate?” he asked.

  “I don’t know who that is. I endorsed a person, not an ethnicity. I will have to see who they put forward as a candidate and learn his position on issues. But my first priority is to find those responsible for this heinous crime.”

  The spears were lowered.
>
  The mob was now just a big crowd.

  I had successfully neutered the riot and all it took was endorsing a dead jerk.

  CHAPTER 15

  We were in a large room, packed with Totki, who weren’t even pretending to hide the fact they were carrying firearms.

  In the center of the room was an open coffin in which the remains of Su Dival were placed.

  Belvaille didn’t have a coroner. If someone was dead, they were dead. You generally didn’t need anyone to tell you they were dead.

  We had a difficult enough time taking care of our living people, so anyone with even a shred of medical training got work as a doctor.

  But I had my Stair Boys drag a surgeon down from the main hospital and I immediately appointed him High Investigative Coroner of Belvaille.

  He did not want the job.

  He was a young lad with a bright future who was examining the corpse from the most notorious murder in decades while surrounded by hundreds of armed men.

  All of it was unnecessary of course.

  I knew who had killed the Totki leader.

  Su Dival had eight puncture wounds on his chest, right above his heart. The punctures were small and perfectly symmetrical. They formed two intersecting plusses.

  Even if the punctures didn’t exactly match the ones on the legs of some Ank I knew, I couldn’t think of many people who could fire eight projectiles with such accuracy other than a four-armed combat battlesuit.

  The Coroner looked at me beseechingly. It was clear he didn’t want to make a misstep and was hoping for guidance. It seemed I had appointed the right man.

  “So, doctor, what was the cause of death?” I asked loudly.

  He reached out to the body.

  “Numerous—”

  “Do not touch!” Hong yelled, and guns were pointed at the poor Coroner, who almost died himself.

  “Sorry. Numerous perforations in the chest resulted in severe heart trauma,” he said.

  “Hmm,” I said, putting my hand to my lips and furrowing my brow for theatrics, “so you’re saying he was shot in the heart?”

  “Well, I can’t confirm that. I don’t know what caused the perforations. This isn’t my area of specialty.”

  “But probably shot,” I nudged.

  “He may have been…”

  “If you had to say whether he was shot or not shot, what would you say?” I coaxed.

  The Coroner blinked at me a while.

  “Shot.”

  A great murmur went up from the gathered Totki.

  “It is confirmed by our Coroner that the esteemed Su Dival has been murdered,” I said.

  The Coroner clearly wanted nothing to do with that diagnosis or anything here.

  “We know that. We can see,” Hong said. “Who do it? It Olmarr!”

  I spun on him.

  “How do you know?”

  “They always do—”

  “How do you know?” I repeated. “A great man was murdered and you want to go out and murder on his behalf without proof? Would he have wanted that?”

  I pointed to the coffin, knowing Su Dival probably would have wanted that, but that Hong wouldn’t slander him so.

  Of course, I couldn’t tell them it was 19-10 because it sounded like crap. I mean, there’s nothing I would like more than for the Totki to be hunting a dimension-walking assassin they couldn’t see. Maybe I wouldn’t have to do it then. No, they wouldn’t believe me. I certainly wouldn’t believe me if I hadn’t seen him already.

  “They kill us! We kill more!” Hong yelled.

  “Listen to me. Listen carefully. You have lost your leader. You are angry. But you have an election coming. Whoever did this wants you to go wild and attack. That’s their plan. You won’t win anything. Do you think you’re going to shoot and stab everyone on this station? There are five million people on Belvaille! How many Totki are there?”

  They were listening. Hong scowled.

  “You have sympathy now. He can still win you the election,” I said, motioning to Su Dival. “He can still achieve your Totki independence. Don’t throw away what he worked for.”

  I really hoped most of them didn’t know Su Dival very well. Then again, it was a lot easier to attribute good deeds to a person when he wasn’t sitting up and contradicting you.

  If I got the Totki interested in the election that was great. I didn’t rate their chances very high of getting anyone elected. They looked weird, they talked weird, they were xenophobic, and they tended to stab everything. But giving them a hobby other than going on an ethnic rampage was a noble cause.

  “You find them. We kill them,” Hong said, angling his bladed spear at me.

  I let him get the last word because I knew he would get it no matter what. He wasn’t going to let me end on a big uplifting speech.

  I pulled the Coroner out and back to my waiting Stair Boys.

  CHAPTER 16

  “How’s recruiting coming along?” I asked.

  MTB, Valia, and a few of my sergeants were sitting in my living room.

  “Not so good, Boss. We’ve lost about twenty-three Kommilaire since last week,” MTB answered.

  “Lost them? Where’d they go?”

  “I figure half joined the Olmarr Republic and half joined the Order. And half probably just got scared,” he said, showing off his math skills.

  “So we’re actually losing men?”

  “Yeah. We’re not going to get anyone unless you lower the requirements.”

  “Are you joking? Now is the worst time for that. I’m not personally worried about getting shot, but with the way things are, do you really want to be questioning the loyalty of the guy standing behind you?”

  “At least someone would be there,” he said.

  “Fine, lower the requirements. But tell them we do drug testing and have a lie detector built by Delovoa.”

  “Do we have those?” Valia asked, surprised.

  “Don’t be silly. Who would need a drug test? And someone would have killed Delovoa if he ever designed a lie detector on Belvaille,” I answered.

  “Do you know who murdered Su Dival?” Valia asked.

  “Same guy that shot the Ank, 19-10,” I said.

  “Do you know why he or she did it?” she asked.

  “I’m guessing it has to do with the election. Maybe kill the big candidates. Or the undesirable candidates. Hell, maybe they are all taking turns hiring him to kill each other.”

  “What about the Ank, though? They weren’t killed,” she said.

  “No one gets any value killing Ank. Unless they’re anarchists. And anarchists can’t afford quality assassins. I’m guessing it was a warning. The Ank were making noise about the election right before they got attacked. And they would probably have sponsored some candidates—maybe all of them. This might make them sit out the election for fear of a return visit.”

  “What do we do about this 19-10 guy?” MTB asked.

  “Not much. I’ll tell all the major pols to ramp up their security and take some precautions to prevent him from portaling in,” I said.

  “How would they do that?” Valia asked.

  MTB gave her a dirty look.

  “Sir,” she amended.

  “Just surround themselves with people or things and keep moving. From what Delovoa told me, if you just walked around, 19-10 would never be able to portal near you because you move faster than he does.”

  “People can’t walk forever,” MTB said.

  “No, but they could sleep on the train or in their cars. I’m writing down some ideas and I’ll give it to all the major candidates at the same time so no one feels left out.”

  “Are we going to post more guards on them, sir?” Valia asked.

  “We can’t spare any,” MTB said.

  “I agree. The city is still the city and it comes first. I don’t even know what a Governor is. So far, the people I’ve seen running for the job aren’t worth saving.”

  “We should have guards on you, Bos
s. In case this 19-10 guy comes for you” MTB said.

  “Unless he has something a whole lot bigger than those pellet guns, I’m not concerned. And I don’t want anyone hanging around my apartment while I’m sleeping. I see enough of you bums.”

  “What’s with all this weird furniture?” Valia asked about my heart attack-helping sculptures.

  “Shut up, new guy,” I said.

  The doorbell rang and MTB got up to answer it for me.

  “Hello,” I heard a chipper, unfamiliar male voice say. “Are you the man of the house?”

  MTB looked back over his shoulder at me and opened the door wide.

  Standing there was a strange, tall man in an ugly blue-green suit. He had the hugest teeth and smile you’d ever seen. Not mutant-big. It was just a big, phony smile.

  As he looked into my apartment and saw a bunch of uniformed Kommilaire sitting around me, he wasn’t fazed. In fact he was encouraged.

  “Ah, I hope I’m not interrupting.” He took off his hat and gave an extravagant bow, sweeping his arm to the side as if we, or he, or my apartment was royalty. “Could I have a moment of your time?”

  “Are you selling something?” I squinted.

  “Oh, no,” he protested. “The only thing I’m selling is good government.”

  And he said it so earnestly I simply had to know more.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  He walked around to all of us and handed us cards from his hat.

  “My name is Aevenpor Rowden and I’m running for City Council.”

  I couldn’t read the card because the writing was too small.

  “What is the City Council?” Valia asked.

  He almost jumped into her lap in his eagerness to answer.

  “I’m glad you asked, young lady. It is a community representation empowering a voice of the people in the management of their legislative process.”

  “What a load of crap,” MTB said.

  “In real words, what will it do?” I asked.

  “Make laws, spend the city’s resources, set taxes,” he replied.

  “Taxes?” I said. “Good luck with that.”

  “Will it influence the Kommilaire?” MTB asked.

  “What’s that?” our budding City Councilman asked.