“Could they pirate other ships?” I asked.
“Pirate? No, those never existed. They were just stories. That’s space out there. It takes weeks to load and unload cargo even in a dock. Imagine trying to do that in zero gravity in a spacesuit,” Xoxis said.
“Okay. I was just curious,” I said, my spirits improved. “Thanks for the help, guys.”
“Uh, Hank. What’s going on with the city? There’s a lot of…disturbances everywhere. My neighborhood doesn’t feel safe.”
“The Kommilaire are on it,” I lied. “Don’t you worry.”
I was being serenaded again by the Royal Wing women from their roof.
I had gotten Valia to retrieve the men from the Olmarr warship who we had stuck on top with the women. I had also given them back their clothes, but not their weapons of course.
“Tell them to shut up,” I said to Valia.
“They’re just singing. I think you should be honored. It’s their way of thanking you.”
“It’s horrible, off-key—whatever. We’daer, I hope you’ve been treated reasonably well so far,” I said to the Systems Configurator from the ship.
He looked rather bad since he couldn’t shave or get his hair or nails trimmed. If Valia had been hosing them down, she wasn’t doing it regularly.
Still, he didn’t have the arrogance of when we first met.
“You will forgive me, sir. I did not realize you were the Hank. You are listed in the Noconeir as one of the architects of the Second Olmarr Republic,” he dropped his head slightly.
Me, an architect. Man, if you live long enough I guess they start running out of ways to describe you.
Though it’s odd, Peush sang this same song for years. Then he got tired of it and tried to kill me with a train. So I wasn’t sure how much faith I put in the Noconeir and Olmarr Republic reverence.
“So, I’ve decided to let you go,” I said.
“What?” Valia exclaimed.
I gave her an icy look.
“Thank you, sir,” We’daer stated. “But we are here to assist our countrymen. We must locate and bring to justice the assassin who took the life of our Vice-Manager.”
“I kind of have a riot going on. I’m letting you go because I can’t really be spending time taking care of you and you’re bound to die sooner or later. I mean, I’ll be honest, you guys look like crap. But if you’re going to stay here, I’ll have to lock you up. That’s the deal.”
He dwelled on that.
“Our ship will take actions, I’m afraid. Our orders are quite clear,” he stated as if he regretted it.
“Yeah, I thought about that. We got this guy here. Really smart. His name is Delovoa—” I started.
“Oh, we know of Delovoa,” he replied instantly.
His men, who had been still and silent up to this point, muttered nervously.
“Really?” I think I was a little hurt that Delovoa’s name seemed to carry more importance than mine. Wasn’t I an architect of a whole empire just a few seconds ago? “Anyway, he controls all the Portals. Literally controls them. Can turn them off and on with a flick of a switch. So if you guys cause any problems, we won’t let your ship portal out. And we won’t let you dock with Belvaille. It will take you something like a hundred thousand years to fly to the next system. So, you know, you’ll die in space.”
I shrugged.
“I mean, how much is one guy’s killer worth? I’m trying to find him, myself. But I’m a little busy right now,” I said.
“We need to replace our Vice-Manager with a new one,” We’daer answered.
“Oh, I’m not negotiating with you,” I explained. “I’m just stating facts. Your choice is naked prison back up there with the Howling Females, starvation in space for you and your crew, or just leave and we all forget this.”
“We will leave,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “But I can’t say we won’t return.”
“Well, I hope Belvaille is still here,” I smiled.
I radioed for some of my Kommilaire to escort them to the port where they could take a shuttle back to their ship.
When they were gone, Valia asked me: “does Delovoa really have that much power over the Portals?”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
CHAPTER 57
I stood in the Ank Reserve in my cleanest uniform, hat and all. I even put on a few medals that I had bought as a joke some years ago.
Three Ank sat in front of me looking as expressionless as always. Though maybe my nerves were playing tricks on me because they seemed extra-expressionless.
MTB and Valia were here as well, and I put both of them in skimpy, revealing outfits. I didn’t know if the Ank found Colmarians attractive, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.
This was an important proposal and I needed all the help I could get.
“Greetings,” I said, reading from my cue cards. “I am Hank, as you may know, Supreme Kommilaire of Belvaille and Secretary of City. Um. I am here, on behalf of myself, and my city, and my…” Valia had told me to take out the word “galaxy” but it was still written on the card. It did sound overblown now that I was speaking it for real. “Um, us. To request a loan from the Ank Reserve.”
I motioned to Valia, who turned a display board toward the seated Ank.
“We live in precarious times. The businesses that make Belvaille home are often in open conflict with one another because there are no recognized boundaries or treaties between them. No methods of communication, no oversight, no anything.”
I motioned to MTB, who turned his display board. I had instructed him to smile and he was standing there flashing pretty much every one of his teeth like he was insane.
“The Belvaille Confederation will not only be a union that establishes formal rules and means for dispute resolution, but it will increase productivity substantially. Uh…”
I tried to flip my cards and my fat fingers dropped them all.
“Damn,” I said. I couldn’t bend over to pick them up and now they were spread all over the floor. I had to make this perfect if I wanted to impress the Ank and I was blowing it.
Valia scrambled to gather the cards, grinning at the Ank as she did so.
“As you can see,” I said, indicating MTB’s poster, we will have clearly delineated territories. There will not be a situation where—”
“Supreme Kommilaire,” one of the Ank answered in his tinkly, pleasant voice. “Our time is extremely precious. I am afraid we cannot listen to your full presentation at the moment.”
“Though we are sure it is quite lovely,” another said.
“But if you’ll just give me a minute,” I blurted, my overweight heart sinking. “Maybe I’m not explaining it clearly.”
The three Ank all stood simultaneously.
“We have made our decision.”
A man entered from a side room in an Ank Reserve uniform. He handed me a small, non-descript briefcase without any fanfare and walked away.
The Ank began to file out of the room.
“You have our support, Supreme Kommilaire. Contact us if you require assistance.”
And with that they were gone.
I looked at the briefcase. A million thumbs was what I was originally going to request to get the Belvaille Confederation off the ground. I thought it may be possible for as low as 250,000, though I’d have to cut a lot of corners and do a lot of begging.
This case was too small for a million at any denomination.
I was disappointed. So disappointed I didn’t want to open it. I knew inside it was going to be like ten grand or something, which would maybe buy a round of drinks for all the crime lords.
Valia stood up from recovering the cue cards.
“Well,” she said, “how much did they give?”
“You open it, MTB,” I said.
I handed him the case and he slowly flicked the lock and opened it.
There was a single old-style thumb, one of the tube varieties we had used before going to the flatt
er, plastic weave ones. There were some small symbols on it and circuitry and etchings, but it was just a thumb.
In the center, where it usually listed the numerical denomination detailing how much it was worth, it instead had a symbol:
Infinity.
http://www.belvaille.com/hlh3/box.gif
CHAPTER 58
I guarded it. Hid it in my house. Had Kommilaire lining the street. I panicked.
Then I realized it wasn’t an actual thing. Back in the day, I had a hard enough time understanding bank accounts. That I had currency out there somewhere even though it wasn’t in my hand or pocket.
This was just one thumb. I couldn’t cut it into pieces. I couldn’t even use it to buy something directly because no one could make change for an infinity. No one could steal it, because it was given to me and everyone knew that.
It was just a symbol. A message.
When I went out to pitch my Belvaille Confederation to gang bosses, I had a retinue of Kommilaire with me, all standing at attention in gold uniforms.
In the center, one held The Box. I swapped out the boring briefcase the Ank had given me, and used the fanciest thing I could find.
Before I started the sermon I flashed it to my audience.
This infinite thumb, for people whose lives and dreams were about making money, was like seeing the face of a god. Murderers with broken jaws and mangled knuckles asked if they could touch it. People asked if they could kiss it—strangely, a lot of people wanted to kiss it. Gang muscle, normally an impassive, unimpressed lot, crowded around when I took it out and gazed with religious awe.
Ironically, I didn’t spend anything. I didn’t have to. I was the Master of Money according to the Ank, who were the Creators of Money.
Supreme Kommilaire, Secretary of City, even Destroyer of the Colmarian Confederation. Those were nice and all, but Man With Infinite Cash!
That was something.
I never had as much influence with gang bosses as I had now. I wasn’t just someone they had to put up with, I was someone they wanted around. They invited me over for lunch like the rich snobs who thought I was a curiosity that boosted their social standing.
On the Royal Wing I had the ability to bring hope or despair to that desolate place. But now I had it on the space station proper. All these gang lords were tired of ripping each other to pieces over scraps. They were ready to believe in the Belvaille Confederation and who better than someone with infinite money to make it a reality?
I didn’t even have to negotiate—much.
I set the prices. I set the borders. I set the products. I established everything and if people didn’t like it, they might humbly raise their hands and beg permission to speak, but they didn’t throw around threats and stamp their feet like they used to.
Building the Confederation was just time. A lot of time.
If I lined up every boss outside my front door, the queue would probably snake out and circumnavigate the city a dozen times. This wasn’t going to get done overnight. Or even in a year.
Every judgment had to be committed to paper and electronic storage. This was official. Our master template. Our holy document.
But it wasn’t simple, either. One boss would come in and I would create all his parameters and then another boss would come in and I would have to go back to the first one and haggle over where they overlapped or conflicted.
The gang wars stopped instantly. Because I told them to. I said if you keep fighting, you won’t be in the Confederation and then everything you own will be available for auction. What gang could possibly resist the combined forces of all the other gangs on the station?
Tamshius was right. They had to join. They were begging to join.
It was all democratic. Well, I guess it was more like feudalism, with power based on your territory. But you were capped out by the other bosses, which promoted competition. There were no monopolies.
I told Lisedt she could call herself a queen or whatever she wanted, but it didn’t mean anything in the Confederation.
I hired clerks and typists and mapmakers to record everything, billing the Confederation for their services. My Kommilaire had already started running messages between the fledgling members.
Belvaille was still crappy, but I could see a real enthusiastic future. Everyone could see it. The loudspeakers were detailing all our activities instead of the latest bloodshed and mayhem.
The Boards absolutely surged, with confidence in the city at its highest levels in…maybe ever. As soon as a business or gang joined the Confederation, they had the option of listing themselves on the Boards. If they did, their shares shot up instantly and dramatically. The costs of goods also declined because there was a growing order among producers and consumers, though still healthy competition.
All these benefits and I figured not even five percent had been added to the Belvaille Confederation so far.
People didn’t dislike me anymore. The conspiracy theorists now were saying I had planned everything all along. Starting with the destruction of the Colmarian Confederation seventy-eight years ago. That’s how clever I was. Regular citizens didn’t like speaking to me directly. They would avert their gaze and fold their hands in front of them, as if they were worried I was going to smite them with piles of cash.
I was back to being a folk hero.
I had only stemmed the gangs, however. And while the gangs and businesses made up a lot of influence, the Order, the Totki, the Olmarr Republic, the ferals, and a whole lot of random people were still causing havoc over their personal grievances.
With my newfound confidence, I decided to meet them head on.
CHAPTER 59
“We would like to thank you for taking the time to speak with us today, Mr. Secretary,” Rendrae said to me deferentially. “We’re all very impressed with the reforms you’ve made lately. I personally am astonished by what has transpired so quickly.”
Rendrae loved me. I was walking, talking, belching news. The chief of law enforcement and the wealthiest man in the city. If I was better looking, I’d almost be too much news to broadcast, the loudspeakers couldn’t handle it.
Rendrae was practically dancing around, he was so excited. He was remarkably light on his feet for a portly fellow.
“I have just one thing to say,” I began, into the microphone. “Anyone caught out after curfew carrying weapons or in groups larger than five people, will be considered enemies of Belvaille and killed on sight. The civil war is over! It is time for this city to rebuild and move on. You can keep your grudges and keep your bigotry, but if you act on them, you’ll find yourself a corpse floating in space.”
Rendrae was momentarily at a loss for words.
“That’s…that’s…quite, uh, how do you intend to carry out this action? My understanding is there are only several hundred Kommilaire at your command. My sources have indicated there are many thousands of hooligans about the city.”
“I’ve made my statement. No one can declare ignorance,” I said.
“Of course. Again, we wish to thank you for stopping by, and if there is anything else you ever want to discuss, I’d be more than happy to assist you in relaying your message.”
The expectant, desperate eyes of the Royal Wing stared at me.
“Did you read our Constitution?” Uulath asked. “What did you think of it?”
“Nah, I didn’t read it. It was too long,” I said.
The crowd of about a hundred people sagged almost to oblivion. They knew it! I was just getting their hopes up only to dash them like the cruel bastard I was. They would die on the Royal Wing with no chance of ever leaving.
No one spoke, they were probably afraid I’d only use it as an excuse to make their lives even more terrible.
“I got another idea,” I said. “I’m going to give you all weapons and have you become my Belvaille Militia. I need to fight the various groups on the station and I expect a lot of killing.”
Uulath blinked at me, scratching his chin
. It was almost like saying I was giving them leave to try and swim back to Belvaille.
“Uh, how does that work, exactly? Your Eminence,” Uulath quickly added.
“That’s it. We’ll give you guns and knives and clubs and whatever else we have lying around. I’ll lead you personally. We walk around, and if we see some Order hanging out causing trouble, we kill them.”
All the prisoners were looking at each other. Was this some trick?
“We’re going back to Belvaille?” one person asked.
“Yeah, but I had Delovoa design some security belts,” I said, holding up a synth belt for them to see. “If you try and take it off or go too far away from me, it explodes.”
Uulath was tapping his fingers trying to understand.
“Sir, not to be disrespectful, but we’ll get massacred. Those are trained fighters in many cases. We haven’t even had a proper meal in years—not that we’re complaining about the food!”
“Yeah. I suspect a number of you will die,” I nodded.
“Forgive me,” a prisoner began meekly, “but why would we want to do this? As difficult as the Royal Wing is, we aren’t getting torn apart by chainsaws.”
“Oh, I forgot to say. For those of you who survive and assist in putting down the dissidents, you will receive a full pardon. We’ll worry about that Constitution stuff some other time. I need an army. I’m not going to force anyone to participate. If you want to stay here, stay here. What better way to prove you’re ready to re-enter Belvaille society than by fighting for your city?”
“Can you do that?” Uulath asked.
“Do what?”
“Pardon all of us at once.”
“Sure, why not?” I said. “I’m rich.”
CHAPTER 60
I came to the entrance of the Belvaille Athletic Gentleman’s Club, saw the sign, and grumbled as usual.
Wait a minute.
“Dample,” I said to the coat check. He almost fainted because I was addressing him directly.
“Yes, sir. Uh, Mr. Secretary. Supreme Kommilaire,” he bumbled.
Hard Luck Hank: Prince of Suck Page 25
