Hard Luck Hank: Prince of Suck

by Steven Campbell

  “You speak false words, Hank of the Colmarian Confederation,” Peush stated calmly.

  “Make up your mind. Did I destroy the Confederation or create it?”

  “You are part of that dead empire and no longer needed.”

  Well, he didn’t sound like a clone, that’s for sure. He then spoke to his men in some odd dialect. Maybe it was Olmarrian. Maybe it was baby talk.

  “Let me gather my fallen men and you can gather yours,” I said.

  “You seek to treat with us on even terms?” Peush asked, amused.

  “I can go back inside and stomp all over your fundraiser. And drink all your punch. These chainsaws don’t impress me.”

  “No, I don’t imagine they do,” Peush said. “I will talk with you. However, you must give me five minutes.”

  We all stood there waiting.

  “Do you mean literally?” I asked after some time had passed with no one moving.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” I asked suspiciously. I wasn’t sure what all they could bring, but Peush was an unknown quantity to me.

  He lifted his head as if he had just thought of something or just heard something.

  “Oh, I guess we can talk sooner than I thought. Tell me, Hank, do you ever ride the train?”

  He turned his head to the upper right and I realized we were below one of the elevated train tracks.

  I looked behind me and saw my magnet was connected to a long cable that went up.

  And then I saw the head of the train zip past.

  “No,” I managed.

  I think I dragged on the ground for a few moments but then I was flying. I was being pulled by the train through the air at incredible speed!

  I was also spinning lazily.

  I heard on one planet there was a fat, fuzzy mammal that would periodically get snatched into the air by giant winged predators. When they were picked up, the mammals would freeze. Not in terror, but because these were animals that lived in the lowlands. They were incapable of jumping, let alone flying. Being in the air was so contrary to their instincts that they simply had no response. So they just let themselves be carried away.

  That was me.

  I was slowly spinning on my cable. When I became properly oriented to the road and could briefly comprehend what I was seeing, I would notice people pointing and screaming, then I would tilt back around and I was lost again.

  I had no idea what to do. I kept trying to brush my hair out of my face as if that would fix everything.

  After some time I became aware of a horrendous sound. I managed to turn around somewhat and I saw half of the last train car was hanging off the track and being towed along, spewing sparks and fire.

  Think!

  Hey, there’s the Avenue Market.

  I tried to concentrate on that. What did that mean? Did it mean anything?

  I pushed my hair out of my face a few more times and of course the wind blew it immediately back.

  This train was going to come to a stop in fifteen blocks. It was going to pass a huge support beam in ten. And the train hanging off the tracks was going to hit that beam. Because I was trailing on a cable, I would also hit it or twist around it.

  In any case, it was bad.

  I closed my eyes. My vision was just distracting me.

  I fumbled with my vest buckles. I got two.

  Got a third.

  I couldn’t get the last two. I was rotating on the cable and the buckles were twisted and my hair was in my face.

  I was a big fuzzy mammal and I was frozen in mid-air. I couldn’t think how to get out of my own clothes and I was going to die because of it.

  I struggled and wrenched at my buckles and straps but got nowhere. I felt my heart rate getting irregular. My blood was sloshing around my body and I was panicking. I wasn’t designed to be a projectile. I had trouble enough walking. A heart attack definitely wouldn’t help me right now.

  Finally, I took a deep breath and cleared my head. I clicked off the buckles like I had done ten thousand times in the past. I slipped easily out of my harness.

  I hit the ground and slid on the sidewalk. Fortunately, I didn’t hit the road, as its tacky surface would have caused me to grip and roll. I also didn’t hit a building.

  I landed on my back, went rocket straight about thirty feet, demolishing everyone and everything in the way, and came to a stop with my head hitting the very machine that had fallen off the latticework earlier.

  There was an enormous explosion down the street as the train car hit the support beam and the whole train was pulled off the tracks and detonated on the ground.

  I decided to rest my eyes instead of trying to stand up right this minute. I figured an exploding train would bring enough Kommilaire that I didn’t have to worry about anyone trying to kill me.

  Besides, from the quick glance I took before slipping into unconsciousness, no one was particularly interested in getting too close. In fact, they were all running away.

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

  CHAPTER 49

  I heard singing.

  No. It wasn’t singing. It was discordant. Shrieking. Like a thousand different breeds of bird were being plucked by sadistic little kids.

  I woke up and saw nothing but light, but the noise was still there.

  I had never been sure before, but this time I was certain. I was in hell.

  “Supreme Kommilaire, you’re awake?” I heard a voice ask.

  My eyes slowly cleared and Devus Sorsha stood over me like Death himself. Devus Sorsha was a medical technician. I believe I was his only client and had been so for decades. He was an elderly man yet his accumulated medical knowledge could fit inside a thimble with enough room left over for several fingertips.

  “Go away,” I told him weakly. He always caused more trouble than he solved.

  “You need to drink and get your strength back.”

  I was about to answer when he stuck a spigot in my mouth. I tasted some foul, hot liquid.

  There were maybe two working taste buds on my entire tongue and he had discovered them. My first taste experience in years was one of bitter revulsion.

  I clenched my jaw out of habit, severing the metal spigot, which caused a torrent of the putrid liquid to jet all over my face and body.

  “Whoops,” he said, with the same gentle manner, as if he wasn’t pouring acid on me. “Open your mouth. You’re going to choke on the spout. Open your mouth,” he chided.

  I did so and he fished around like a plumber. When he had recovered the piece, he went back to drowning me.

  “Boss,” MTB said.

  I tried to push Devus Sorsha away, but he was nimble for one so ancient.

  “Get him out of here,” I tried to say, but a great stream of Devus Sorsha’s “medicine” gushed out of my mouth, making my command unintelligible.

  MTB was smart enough to see where I was pointing and my anger, and he ushered my torturer away with some kind words.

  I wiped my face and chin and saw I was lying on the ramp just outside my front door. Had I crawled here? I didn’t remember.

  The odd singing was still going on, so I hadn’t imagined that. Though I wished I had.

  “What is that terrible noise?” I asked, when MTB returned.

  “That’s the women you brought over from the Royal Wing and put on that roof,” he said, indicating the building across the street. “They were told you were injured down here and may never recover and they’ve been singing nonstop to boost your spirits.”

  “That’s singing? They gave me nightmares.”

  “They’re your angels. They brought you back, sweet voices or not.”

  “Great, so I got murderers and thieves as my guardians, what’s that say about me?” I asked. “How long was I unconscious?”

  “About thirty hours or so.”

  That was actually pretty impressive. In the past when I got knocked out and had Devus Sorsha looking after me, weeks had often gone by. But this mi
shap was going to make me even denser, as my body healed and thickened. I could just about hear my heart slowing.

  “How did I get here?”

  “We pulled you with the heavy lifter.”

  “You dragged me twenty…twenty-five blocks?” I asked, annoyed.

  “Pulled,” he corrected.

  “What’s the difference between drag and pull?”

  “One is slower.”

  “Which is slower?” I tried to confirm.

  “Whichever one makes you less mad.”

  MTB was learning.

  “Why did you leave me on my front porch with those songstresses tormenting me?”

  “How were we going to get you inside? Can’t drive a heavy lifter into your living room.”

  “I’m going to go in and eat and sleep for a while, but then we’re going to ride out and arrest Peush. He’s behind all this crap,” I said.

  “Peush is dead. 19-10 killed him. During the daytime, in front of fifty people.”

  “Huh. Well. Good, I guess. I don’t have to kill him now and cause a riot.”

  “Oh, there’s a riot. It’s the Order, the Totki, and the Republic all fighting. And the gangs have jumped in and are battling over Zadeck’s territory and whatever else. It all started once word got out that you were out of commission.”

  I couldn’t spare the breath to sigh, but I kind of wished I was back in my coma.

  “Great. But why is the Olmarr Republic rioting? They can’t think I’m 19-10. That guy is skinny,” I said.

  “It’s all ‘the government’ to them. Some conspiracy. I swear, Boss, they’re worse than the Totki.”

  “I noticed that too. I misjudged them. I think I was biased because they didn’t look weird or talk weird and weren’t a fruity religion. I didn’t pay attention to what they were actually saying.”

  “You were right,” MTB said.

  “About the Olmarr?”

  “About everything. Whatever you were doing to maintain the quiet, it’s worn off. There are hundreds of thousands of people in the streets.”

  “That fast? That many?”

  “The Kommilaire can’t do anything. We’re just standing around watching. People are dying all over. Getting robbed. Worse. There is no law.”

  “Happened while I was sleeping. I wasn’t sure when it would happen. I kept saying it would, but I half didn’t believe it myself.”

  “They even tried to attack Delovoa’s street. I guess they figured he had good stuff to filch.”

  “That couldn’t have worked out for them.”

  “No. He killed them all. Melted a couple buildings next to his block in the process.”

  “Delovoa can take care of himself.”

  I began to try and inch closer to my apartment door. I wanted to be inside and get away from the Harpy’s Choir.

  “So how do we stop it?”

  “Stop what?” I replied, not looking back.

  “The riots. The gang wars.”

  I paused and stared at MTB.

  “We don’t,” I said. Had he thought I was exaggerating all these years? “If what you say is true, somewhere between three-to-five-to-ten percent of the population is in open warfare. We got Stair Boys that number in the low hundreds. That’s like facing a forest fire with a cup of water. We got to wait for that fire to be closer to cup-size before we can even think of doing anything. You made the right call. Just stay out of the way and observe.”

  “The city is going to dismantle itself if we do nothing,” he said.

  “Maybe. But fights usually don’t work like that. Not among normal people. You get two guys who are pissed as hell at each other and set them to boxing. They swear they’re going to kill the other guy dead no doubt about it. But then they break their hands, crack their ribs, knock out a few teeth, and suddenly fighting becomes a whole lot less interesting.”

  “You think it will run out of steam?”

  “It’s not a civil war. We don’t have tanks and missiles and armies of Therezians or—I hope—clones. Unless I don’t understand Belvaille, we’re going to end up with a lot of property damage, some new bosses, and maybe three new factions or three less factions. I don’t know. But there’s not a lot we can do. It’s too big. We’ll react to the results. Maybe nudge it one way or the other.”

  “I talked to a trader and he said the Boards went sour as soon as word got out that you were hurt.”

  I sat thinking about that.

  “I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or an insult. They’re either upset I was injured or upset I wasn’t killed outright.”

  CHAPTER 50

  “Where have you been?” I asked Valia.

  “I got stuck southeast when the city erupted. Suddenly being a sexy, female Kommilaire out in the streets was a bad thing.”

  “That was forty hours ago,” I challenged.

  “No, it wasn’t. You were unconscious, how do you even know?” Valia asked.

  That was true. I could have been out for a month and they were just humoring me. It did seem like the city had fallen to pieces rather swiftly.

  “Whatever,” I grumbled. “So how is the southeast?”

  “Same as anywhere else, I suppose. I can’t tell who the bad guys are.”

  “The ones pointing guns at you,” MTB said.

  “Not a lot of guns that I saw,” she said.

  “Maybe our decades of disarmament actually worked,” MTB told me.

  “They’re not going to waste their bullets in a random street brawl. The gangs have guns and the big factions have guns. They’re going to use them when they have something real to gain. We haven’t seen the significant battles yet.”

  I knew guns were all over the city, but actually making bullets was harder, even though the technology was fairly simplistic. The chemicals had to come from off Belvaille which made them tremendously expensive. Not to mention we would confiscate at least some of them at the port.

  “So what’s the first order of business?” MTB asked.

  “Split the forces between the telescopes, the port, this street, and the Ank Reserve,” I said.

  “What about City Hall?” Valia asked.

  “That’s a fortress,” MTB said. “But that still leaves a lot of important areas vulnerable. What about the water treatment and sewers and electrical way stations?”

  “We don’t have the people and those are things that can be repaired. The telescopes have always been unique to Belvaille. And if the port is damaged, we can’t get ships in here. And I want to protect the Kommilaire who are off-duty and live on this street. I expect reprisals here.”

  “Reprisals for what?” Valia asked.

  “Being law enforcement on Belvaille,” I said.

  “Boss,” Valia said, later. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  “Does he have a weapon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he look pissed off?”

  “Yes.”

  I muttered and struggled to my feet. I had been sitting in my portable chair in the middle of Hank Block with the rest of my Stair Boys, relaxing as the city imploded.

  A dozen of my Kommilaire surrounded a party of three men who were wearing undergear, indicating they had just come from a space ship.

  I noticed they also had chainsaws on their belts.

  “I’m Hank, Supreme Kommilaire and Secretary of City of Belvaille and Chief Chair-Sitter of Hank Block. What do you want?”

  The man in front had close-cropped, brown hair, and a nose that had been broken at least ten times. He was large of frame but not bulky. He had the complexion and wiry physique of someone who spent a lot of time in space.

  “I am Systems Configurator We’daer of the Olmarr warship Second Awakening. I demand you turn over the murderer of Vice-Manager Peush,” he huffed.

  The Olmarr had some boring titles. But I was surprised he was from a warship. Or at least he said he was. I kept forgetting there was a galaxy outside of Belvaille.

  I shrugged at
the man.

  “I don’t have his killer.”

  “Then I demand you tell me the assassin’s location.”

  “If I knew where he was, I’d have him.”

  He pointed at me, scowling.

  “We hold this installation responsible for the Vice-Manager’s death. We are prepared to fire on the city.”

  I wasn’t concerned.

  “You’d hurt a lot of Olmarr Republicans.”

  “We will evacuate them first,” he said.

  “No, you won’t. I won’t let them leave. I’m now officially holding them hostage.”

  “Then we will blockade the station and prevent supplies from reaching here,” he countered.

  “Then you’re under arrest.”

  I nodded at my Kommilaire and they drew their guns. The Olmarr had their hands on their chainsaws, but they weren’t so foolish to think they could out-buzz a hail of gunfire.

  “Is this how you treat representatives from foreign powers?” he shouted.

  “It is when they threaten my city,” I said. “Lock them up in the jail,” I told MTB.

  “We’re running out of space in the jail, Boss.”

  “Strip them down, handcuff them, and put them on the roof with the Royal Wing women.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Valia asked. “Naked men with a bunch of women?”

  “Did you come to Belvaille for sex?” I questioned the Olmarr.

  “What?” he asked, incensed.

  “I don’t think they’re here for sex. And I don’t think those women who were forced wives are looking for sex. But if it makes you feel better you can hose everyone down a few times a day with cold water.”

  Valia made a face but didn’t answer.

  “Right. I think this is solved. I’m going back to sitting down.”

  CHAPTER 51

  “So what can you do against a ship that wanted to attack Belvaille?” I asked Delovoa. He was fine, despite the riots raging.

  “I don’t know. Rude hand gestures?” he answered.

  The rioters had discreetly moved their rioting further away from Delovoa’s street once they saw the twisted buildings after the “attack” on his block.

  “Don’t you have any big space guns?”