“We already did this,” I sighed.
The Kommilaire all got off me, picked up their pistols and put them to their own heads!
“Drop your gun,” he told me.
I dropped it.
“Look, I really just want to talk to Hobardi. He’s not under arrest or anything. Take it easy.”
“And I said he’s not seeing anyone. Now leave!”
I began walking backwards the way we came when I saw something strange in Valia, who was to my left.
Her skin began to ripple and shift, like it was a bed sheet and air was being blown under it. The features on her face began to droop like they were about to fall off her skeleton. This mutant was melting her!
The mutant had moved closer now that he thought he had the upper hand. I quickly resolved to grab him. I couldn’t let my people die.
I stretched out my arm and leaned forward. I was right on target to put my hand on his chest and pin him down, which would certainly crush him.
Closer.
Closer.
And then he apparently saw what I was doing and hopped away, which put him well beyond my reach.
Now I was just falling. Or waiting to fall. It seemed like it was taking a long while.
When I finally touched ground, I smashed through the thin floor and I was falling again, head-first this time. Who replaces the steel floors on Belvaille?
I briefly saw another lit room I descended through and hit another floor.
Which I also ripped through, continuing my fall.
I came to a stop against the stout basement, landing on my head and then flopping over onto my back.
It was raining Kommilaire.
They came spilling through the destroyed floors above, flailing and cartwheeling and ultimately landing pretty ungracefully, often on me.
But they didn’t seem to be mind controlled any longer.
The mutant was here too. I tried to extricate myself from my Stair Boys without injuring them further. Some were moaning and holding sprained or broken bones which had been caused from their fall.
As I gently scooped my employees to the side, I pulled myself closer to the mutant, who was himself recovering from his drop.
If I could get to him before he came around…
He saw me and his eyes went wide—he had lost his sunglasses. He made the finger-motion again.
Most of my Kommilaire didn’t have their pistols, but a few did. And they dutifully put their guns to their own heads.
“What’s your name? We can talk this through,” I said.
“Blam!”
I looked back, panicked, expecting to see a dead Kommilaire. Instead I saw Valia standing, holding her smoking gun.
The mutant was dead, shot in the chest.
“You can’t control a red head,” Valia said.
CHAPTER 45
My Kommilaire were in a bad way after fighting Hobardi’s mutant.
“Is everyone alright?” I asked dumbly.
Grumbles and complaints were the answer.
“I’m fine,” a perky Valia said.
Her face and skin were back to normal.
“You’re not melted?” I asked, as if she might not be sure.
“Melted?”
“The mutant was like, smearing your face around.”
She seemed skeptical.
“I don’t think so, Boss. He might have been inside your brain.”
I crawled over to the stairwell so I could use it to try and stand up. I passed the dead man on the way.
“Guess that’s one less mutant in the galaxy,” I said.
“You sound sad, like I should have let him kill us.”
“Well, the Colmarian Confederation created mutants and the Confederation is gone. Every one that dies is the last of a breed. Just think how helpful he would have been as a Kommilaire.”
“He didn’t seem too helpful.”
“He didn’t bother me. Not exactly. I could have got him on our side I think.”
As I tried to climb up the stairs with my arms I heard a sound.
Crack!
I twisted around and saw Valia behind me.
“What was that?” I asked her.
“What was what?”
“That sound.”
“Did you feel anything?” she asked.
“No, why?”
She held out her pistol.
“Because I just hit you on the back of the head as hard as I could.”
“Why would you do that? Jerk.”
“I wanted to see. He probably couldn’t mind control you because you got a cranium that’s a foot thick.”
“It’s not a foot thick, it’s just dense. And don’t hit me, you’re a subordinate.”
“You didn’t even feel it!”
“So? It’s disrespectful,” I said. “Hey, all of you guys. Come over here and help me stand up.”
They were struggling unsuccessfully to raise me.
“Now I know where the expression ‘Hank’s Butt’ comes from,” Valia said, teeth gritted.
“Shut up. Forget it. I’ll crawl up the stairs. Look around for something sturdy I can put my weight on.”
It took me about thirty minutes to get up the first flight. My broken and bruised Kommilaire had dragged down some desks and planters but they all just crumbled under my weight.
“What if someone attacks you?” Valia asked.
“With what?”
She seemed to think about that and went back to looking for something for me to lean on.
All of them finally found a tall stone statue and scraped it over with much panting and cursing. I loved sculptors. Of all the artists, they seemed the most insecure about having their work last forever and ever, so they used only the hardiest of materials.
Between the next flight of stairs and the statue, I managed to get to my feet.
All my Kommilaire really looked like they wanted to leave. They were injured and exhausted.
“Go to the hospital,” I told them.
They were too tired to even answer and merely headed upstairs and out.
“Not you, Valia.”
“I can’t pick you up if you fall again,” she warned.
“No, but you can scout around and find Hobardi.”
“Where will you be?”
“Walking up this flight of stairs.”
“Can I get something to eat first? I’ll be back before you’re halfway.”
“This is a combat operation,” I chastised.
“Wars have been fought in less time, Boss.”
“I’ve got some food on my back. You can have some.”
I took out the hose that connected to my food storage and squirted some of the green mess on the ground. Valia jumped away like it was toxic.
“Gross! What’s it taste like?”
“I don’t know. But it’s good for you.”
“Good for you or good for normal people? I’m going to hazard a guess that our dietary needs aren’t the same.”
“Go look for Hobardi,” I said.
I was at the first landing of the stairwell when Valia returned.
“Wow!” She said. “I searched all this building, the building across the street, asked a bunch of people walking around, and finally tracked him down to a place called the Temple. I see you’ve managed to walk up…thirty or so stairs.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, huffing for air.
“It’s probably easier for you to just knock down the walls,” she said.
“We’re under the ground level.”
“Ah.”
“Keep an eye on the Temple so he doesn’t sneak out. I know the building. I’ll catch up to you.”
“I doubt you’ll ‘catch up,’ but fine. Give me a taste of that food you have. I’m really hungry.”
I let her take the hose.
She was holding it expectantly, trying to work the controls. Then:
Plplt!
She spit it all over my jacket.
“
That’s horrible!”
She was spitting and wiping her tongue on her sleeve.
“Go on then,” I said, taking it personally that she didn’t like my food and also a bit annoyed that I had been eating something disgusting all these years and didn’t know it.
I took a few food breaks myself as I climbed the rest of the stairs.
The Temple wasn’t really a temple. Or anything other than a normal Belvaille building that had lots of fancy designs attached to the outside to make it templey. The buildings of Belvaille were all well-constructed so there was no reason to knock them down just so you could put up something that was going to be less durable. Besides, it would take an artillery cannon or Therezian to knock down these buildings and both were in short supply and not something you ordinarily wanted to mess with.
I wasn’t sure how or why Hobardi had replaced his floor. I looked at it afterwards and it was still steel, just about a quarter the normal thickness, which is why I fell through it.
There was a lot of security at the Temple. Not fancy people wearing colored robes, but mean people carrying automatic rifles.
But I had just walked up two flights of stairs after falling down two flights of stairs and I wasn’t in the mood.
“Move or I’ll kill you,” I said.
“You’re not—” one of the guards started.
“I’m going to pull off your face, spray it with preservatives, and line my underwear with it if you don’t shut up and get out of my way,” I clarified. “You’ll be smelling my crotch in the afterlife.”
There are tough guys and then tough guys and then tough guys. Some are all talk. Some are half talk. And some are no talk. If I say I’m going to rip off someone’s face and put it in my pants, I’m going to rip off someone’s face and put it in my pants.
The guards moved away and tilted their heads back on their necks, as if trying to have their faces that extra inch away from my undergarments.
We walked into the next room, which was large and open, with goofy symbols and tapestries and other crap. I can say that since it was a made up religion.
Hobardi was in a gold toga kneeling in front of a mound of sand. Or it looked like sand. I’m sure it was some stupid metaphor for something stupid.
“Hobardi!” I yelled. “Your mutant friend is dead. Two Clem the clone is dead. And I’m tired and cranky. We got some things to discuss.”
He stood in one quick motion and turned around to face us.
“I would like to leave,” he said.
“Holy crap,” I said, not believing my bad luck.
“What?” Valia asked.
I took off one of my pistols and pointed it at Hobardi.
“Eat suck, suckface!”
I pulled the trigger and the gun twisted and fell apart in my hand. Why did I even carry all these guns? Had I gotten stronger all of a sudden or had I really not fired them in that long?
I was reaching for another gun when Hobardi dashed forward, did some kind of somersault, and kicked me in the face.
Thud.
He fell to the ground, caught himself with his arms, flipped back up and kicked me in the chest.
Thud.
“What’s going on here?” Valia asked.
“He’s a clone.”
“How do you know?”
Thud. He kicked me in the side of my head as I was talking to Valia.
“That’s what the Two Clem clone said. And he totally ignored your feminine charms.”
“Oh. Should I do something?”
“Yeah, kill him.”
I had another gun out and was handling it delicately.
Valia shrugged and drew her pistol.
Hobardi kicked her in the face, punched her in the stomach, jumped over her, then flip-threw her before I could even open my mouth.
“Whoa,” I blinked.
I aimed at Hobardi but he grabbed Valia from behind and put her in a chokehold.
“Shoot him,” she managed to say.
“I might hit you. My aim isn’t that great,” I apologized.
She lifted her legs and folded in her arms to make herself a smaller target, all while being strangled.
“My aim is really bad, actually,” I elaborated, though I appreciated her efforts.
She managed a curse.
I plodded toward them with my arms outstretched, hoping to help out.
“Shtop!” She said, her eyes bulging.
I stopped.
Hobardi had lifted her off the ground by her neck, when suddenly she broke out of his grasp. She didn’t wrench free, she kind of slipped out like a wet bar of soap. She hit the floor, scrambled backwards through his legs, and lay prone on the ground, her arms covering her head.
“Shoot him!”
I aimed. Fired.
Blam!
Er. Fired again.
Blam!
Hobardi was running now, that super athletic clone-running.
Blam!
I think these guns were flawed. Or I should practice with them. Or both.
Valia did a forward roll, recovered her pistol, rested one leg against me to stop her momentum, aimed:
Blam!
Hobardi went down.
Valia stared daggers at me but bit her lip.
“Good shooting, Kommilaire,” I said awkwardly.
CHAPTER 46
“Yeah, he’s a clone,” Delovoa said casually.
“I knew that,” I answered. “Why doesn’t he look like the Two Clem clone?”
“You know what a clone is, don’t you?”
“No. They had cancelled that class by the time I went to Supreme Kommilaire University—and just in case you were unclear, there is no such thing as Supreme Kommilaire University.”
“Clones are just…clones. Of people. They are copies of them.”
“But with bad brains?”
“With as much, or little, brain as they require to do their functions. This one is missing a lot. The point is someone copied Hobardi to make this.”
“So Naked Guy’s clones were copies of real people?”
“No, those were probably made from scratch.”
“Are you just making this up or do you actually know what you’re talking about?” I asked, annoyed.
“A little of both.”
“So Hobardi was a clone and Two Clem was a clone. So who decides how much brain they have?”
“The people who are cloning them,” he said.
“Who are they?”
“The people cloning?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“How should I know? I almost never leave this street. You’re about my only form of entertainment, which tells you how boring my life is. Oh, I built your voting machine,” he said, conveniently switching topics.
“Nice. Let’s see.”
In another room he had a giant machine full of sensors and gizmos and poles and wires.
“Is that going to kill people?” I asked skeptically.
“Not most people.”
“How does it work?” I asked, looking closer, but not too close. I didn’t see any controls.
“It deep scans your neural signals and takes an imprint of your dendritic web.”
“Yeah,” I said, making it clear that wasn’t a very good description.
“It can tell who you want to vote for based on your thoughts and then it records your unique brain structure so you can’t vote again.”
“Why couldn’t you just have had three buttons or something? Why do you always do this? No one is going to want to have their brain zapped.”
“Don’t tell them.”
“What about the Boranjame?”
“There’s only one of him, just ask him who he wants to vote for.”
“How do you know Zeti is male?”
“You can tell by how he walks,” Delovoa said dismissively.
“He’s a floating crystal… Anyway, what about the Dredel Led and Keilvin Kamigans and stuff without brains? Or normal brains.”
“What? Why? You can’t do that.”
“I don’t like the Dredel Led. I don’t trust them.”
“Since when?”
“Since they attacked Belvaille.”
“That was like a hundred years ago back during the Colmarian Confederation. They haven’t caused any problems since then.”
I was going to say he should get out more often, but I realized I didn’t want Delovoa out more often.
“Well, build your own voting machine then, smart guy.”
“Test it,” I said, pointing at the machine.
“It won’t work on me. I have three brains. I get to vote three times. Which only seems fair.”
“I’ll test it then,” I said, stepping forward cautiously.
“It won’t work on you either. Your skull is like a foot thick.”
“It’s just dense! So this thing doesn’t work on like half the species here and it might kill the other half. As Secretary of City, I’m not very comfortable with this.”
“But it will let me identify any other clones in the city,” Delovoa said with a toothless grin.
“If they vote.”
“Yeah.”
“Why would a clone vote? Is there a Clone Pride Movement I don’t know about? Can you make a clone scanner that I could carry around?” I asked.
“You could carry this around.”
“People will notice me dragging around a ten-foot brain blaster. I need something small.”
“I guess,” Delovoa pouted.
“And make another voting machine. With buttons. Or knobs. Something non-lethal.”
“How will it keep track of people who already voted?”
“I don’t know if anyone is going to vote. But we’ll give them a sticker. Or write down their names. We don’t have to scramble their DNA though.”
Delovoa rolled all three eyes as if I was taking all the fun out of democracy.
“Don’t complain to me if there’s voter fraud.”
“I just found a clone that was running for office. I’m not especially concerned if someone votes twice for Governor; a position, by the way, with no official duties or responsibilities. Besides, this is Belvaille. Fraud is part of our tradition.”
CHAPTER 47
“Kill any judges today?” MTB asked me.
“Day ain’t over,” I said.
We were sitting in my living room. I had to talk to him and I didn’t care if he was uncomfortable with it. He worked for me.
Hard Luck Hank: Prince of Suck Page 20
