The robot then twisted itself and fired at the last soldier, hitting the wall in front of where he’d been hiding.
And then the Dredel Led began walking towards Garm and me.
Garm fired with her pistol, the gun booming with each shot, but other than some dull pangs from the impacts, it had no effect.
My brain was still trying to get in gear after being slammed against the side of my cranium. I was standing there dazed as the robot moved closer. I saw the soldiers had shot off much of the ugly prosthetics that had once been its body, revealing a bright silver material underneath.
Dumbly. Out of habit, if nothing else, I reached into my jacket, found my Ontakian pistol was still there, pulled it out, and powered it on. I was going to blow myself up before I let this robot do it.
And whoosh. He took off into the sky.
I looked up, waiting for him to land behind me. Or land on me. But I could see his contrail streaking off into the distance where the darkness swallowed it.
“Huh?” I said astutely.
“See? They’re scared of that gun,” Garm said. Then she ran off to check on her men.
I stared at my pistol. I was too numb from adrenaline to feel its hum vibrating my innards, but its piercing green glow felt like a gentle fireplace providing shelter.
Garm was communicating with her base and I was looking around for a good place to take a nap when she rushed over.
“We got a bead on it. A building a mile from here was accessed and nothing has come out. It’s in the direction that thing flew. Let’s go.”
“What?” I looked around at the carnage. I couldn’t believe she wanted to repeat this, except with fewer people.
“We have the upper hand now, Hank.”
“How so?”
I could see she was exasperated at my slowness.
“It ran from your pistol. It’s afraid of it. So that means you can kill it.”
“Or. It ran because it was bored. Or because it knew my pistol would explode if I fired it. Which is what happened when anyone else tried to use Ontakian guns.”
“How do you know? Were you some Ontakian weapon scientist before you came to Belvaille?”
“No. I-I heard it somewhere,” I said unconvincingly.
“Come on!” she yelled, pulling my arm.
I was far too heavy to be pushed or pulled around, but I allowed myself to be taken to the car. Two soldiers were injured, unable to help us. The two on the ground were dead.
Before I got into the car, I threw up. I paused a moment looking down at my sick. There were my rations mixed with blood. Now I was hungry again.
Putting me in the car was probably a bad idea. I was comfortable. My head immediately drooped to my chest and I was 100% ready to go to sleep.
Garm kept berating me and hitting me and otherwise being an effective alarm clock.
After a very short ride we stopped.
“This is it. Building on the right. Third floor. Number seven,” she said.
We got out of the vehicle and my body was unbelievably stiff. Like premature rigor mortis had set in.
I scuffled my way to the building, Garm’s hand on the middle of my back, pushing. I took out my pistol but didn’t turn it on. I wasn’t sure where my shotgun was, not that it mattered.
Without thinking, I emptied my four other shotgun shells onto the floor as we entered the building, since I didn’t need them. They made a bit of clacking and Garm shushed me. Not sure why I dropped them, but I probably had at least a mild concussion.
I really, unbelievably, wanted to take the elevator, but Garm made me use the stairs. I think she regretted it about a half flight up, when I had to put away my pistol and drag myself up by the railing.
My body was trying to shut down, the adrenaline long gone. Also, my heightened regeneration takes energy. It’s like when you have an illness that puts you in bed so you can devote all your resources to fighting what’s ailing you.
My mouth hung open and I was gulping in air as we reached the top of the first flight. Garm relented and we took the elevator to the 3rd floor. It gave me a chance to catch my breath and I took my pistol back out as I leaned against the wall.
“Do we have a plan?” I asked her.
“Shoot it until it dies.”
We exited the elevator, Garm poking her head out military-style to see if it was clear first, while I just fumbled on out.
We came to apartment seven and for a moment I thought of knocking. Garm was obviously waiting for me.
I manipulated the handle and pushed in the door and entered.
It was pitch-black inside. Of course. No one had thought to turn on the lighting inside the apartments. There was only basic electricity in this part of the city. Only the vague illumination from the hallway helped and that didn’t cover any of the back rooms.
Garm followed me in with her pistol drawn.
I was trying to get my eyes to adjust. It was ridiculous thinking I could fight this thing at all, but trying to do it in the dark was suicide.
“Hank. Turn on the gun,” Garm whispered.
Oh, yeah. I flipped on the power and the green glow burst across the empty room. Empty except for the Dredel Led squatting in the corner looking at us.
It stood up and I saw its arm moving. That was the arm that held its cannon.
I raised my pistol and pulled the trigger.
Green.
All I saw was a green of unbelievable intensity. It was all-consuming. Everything was green.
I’m not sure how long this lasted—seconds, minutes, hours. I still saw green, but I also heard some indistinct sound. My head slowly cleared and I saw the sound was coming from Garm, who was screaming and writhing on the ground.
I still saw green and it was because my pants were on fire and the flames were of that color. I was sitting down. I looked at my burning pants for a moment and realized my legs were in them and I might want to put out the blaze.
Putting my pistol to the side I patted at them, and then finally got on my stomach to smother the flames.
When I stood up, I was about to help Garm when I realized there was a lot more light than before. There was a hole in the wall. In fact, the whole corner the Dredel Led had been in was gone, as was the robot itself.
Garm stumbled into me.
“I can’t see. I can’t see. Is that you, Hank?”
“Yeah.”
I held her and walked cautiously to the hole. I could feel Garm walking better. She was moving her head around now, blinking and rubbing her eyes.
“Look,” she said.
I looked down to where she was pointing. There was the start of what looked like a metal foot, with the rest melted and fused to the floor.
We stood at the edge of the apartment. We were exposed to the air of the city by a brand new, circular, eight-foot hole, the sides of which were still smoldering hot. Straight ahead from us I saw a similar hole in the opposite building. In the far distance through that structure, I could see yet another hole. If there were more, I could not tell, as it was too dark in this part of the city, even with the molten perforations shining like red rings.
“I’m not paying for this,” I said.
CHAPTER 11
I slept. And slept. And ate. And slept some more.
My body was telling me in no uncertain terms that I shouldn’t be doing anything more strenuous than bowel movements, and this time I listened to it. Not sure how long I was in my apartment. I shut off my tele and did not receive information from the outside world.
I ate mounds of food and surprisingly little came out later. It was like every molecule was being used to restitch my fractured self.
At one point, Garm actually broke into my apartment—I think she was checking to see if I was dead.
I finally came around and knew I was better because I felt like some booze. I figured this was a good time to open the tony bottle Tamshius had given me in honor of losing a huge sum of money at his casino. I had maybe a capful
and my body suddenly switched instructions and told me not to drink anymore.
I was tired of eating rations and not moving, so I took a long, hot shower and hit the streets. The light from outside made me squint, but at least the city was still here. So no major invasion while I was out.
“Mr. Hank! Mr. Hank!” I heard from behind me.
Not exactly how I wanted to reenter society. Jyen ran up to me, her ears swinging when she came to a stop.
“Are you okay?” she asked out of breath.
“Getting there. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get some food.” It’s not that I didn’t like Jyen, I didn’t even know her, but barring her recent purchase of a narcotics factory, she was just a normal, non-criminal person. I didn’t know how to act around her.
“I read all about you in The News. They said you killed a Dredel Led.”
I took out my tele and turned it on, scrolling to the latest edition. To my astonishment, the entire issue was about: me. I stared at it in awe.
Rendrae devoted the entire contents to my exploits since I’d been on Belvaille. He had interviews with almost every boss, stories from various bodyguards and bouncers and thugs, and practically every job I was ever involved in—some of it even true.
The cover story was about the destruction of the Dredel Led. I skimmed it, and most of the eyewitness testimony was obviously from Garm. She had neglected to say it was my Ontakian pistol that had killed the robot and it instead became some struggle between Colmarian and machine, with me ultimately triumphing. It was so melodramatic I’m surprised she didn’t tell how I’d thrown myself in harm’s way to save a baby during the fight.
What I couldn’t believe was how so many people spoke well of me. I know a number of the bosses interviewed didn’t like me that much, if at all, but here they were singing my praises in the most hyperbolic fashion. They even had guys talking about how I’d handled beating them up with dignity and aplomb.
Jyen had been blabbing this whole time, but I didn’t hear her. I mean it’s not every day you see yourself portrayed as a hero.
As I was reading, I got a tele from Garm.
“Hey,” I answered.
“So, finally out of your place I see.”
“How did you know?” I looked up at the nearby apartments to see if she was peeking out a window like Jyen must have been.
“Once the techs had figured out how to monitor doors opening and closing, I decided I would—”
“Monitor everyone,” I completed for her. Typical Garm.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“Fine, but I need to eat.”
“Come over when you’re done. I have your shotgun, by the way.”
Holding it hostage, more likely. She could have left it in my place when she came by.
Jyen was still talking excitedly. I put my hand on her shoulder.
“Look. Jyen. Sorry, I need to run. Important business and all.”
“Do you know when you’ll be back? What I have to say is extremely urgent.”
I couldn’t imagine they were out of drugs already. Or maybe he’d overdosed. In any event, she didn’t say she was going to give me money, so her situation was prioritized appropriately.
“I’m just getting back on my feet,” I said, as I moved away from her. “But feel free to get in touch with me later. In a few days.”
I continued to read The News on the train. There were some passengers on board and they all wished me well and grinned at me even though I had no clue who some of them were.
I ate at a quiet restaurant where no one bugged me. I just wanted to wash the taste of rations from my mouth. As I sat, I continued to read The News. The stories got more and more outrageous the further they went back in time. People I vaguely knew were talking in first person about events that only sort of happened. I admit I don’t have the best of memories, but is this how people recalled stuff? Or was this Rendrae trying to sell papers by embellishing? Or maybe this is what people wanted to remember.
I rested back at my place. The News was very flattering, but it was also like my biography. Everything had looked grim, no hope of survival, and then I showed up, looking calm as could be, eating a sandwich.
Me eating featured prominently in a whole lot of anecdotes.
After a few reads I became more and more disenchanted with it all. I mean, was this my life? It was the same thing over and over again, only the names and what I was eating at the time seemed to change.
I’ve never really thought about a legacy. But for the last century it sounds like I was basically a bully with low blood sugar.
I suppose on Belvaille that’s high praise, and I did get the sense that people meant it that way. Then again, if you laid almost anyone’s life out like this it would kind of be one note, right? It’s not like I have the chops to be some Colmarian diplomat. Or cook up a cure for whatever diseases are out there.
Still, I was a bit in a funk when Garm walked into my apartment.
“Just because you can open it, I still expect you to use the doorbell.”
“You said you would come see me and you didn’t.”
I could tell Garm’s being able to track my movements was going to become highly irksome.
“Here, I had Delovoa fix it up. It got kind of bent when that robot shot you.” She tossed me my shotgun, which was bright and shiny.
Delovoa was the one true genius on the station. There were plenty of technical people here, of course. Guys who wore suspenders and smelled of obscure solvents and worked on the ventilation or any of the other hundreds of systems that kept us alive. But they were mechanics and only knew their one little expertise—and they didn’t even know those well if history was any indicator.
Delovoa made his money by being a technology vendor to all the bosses. He designed and made the weapons. Security devices. Hell, just about anything. He’s the one that offered to buy my Ontakian pistol. Good thing I hadn’t sold it. Originally, he had also created my shotgun for me. He was expensive, but he made good stuff. I heard he was banished to Belvaille for breaking technology restrictions like the mad scientist he was.
As I was admiring the feel of the gun, Garm came over and hugged me.
“So, we still have a Dredel Led we have to deal with,” she said, quickly breaking her hug and backing away while looking at my bare ceiling as if it were interesting.
“Uh. How are your men?” I asked, Garm’s being uncomfortable making me uncomfortable.
“Reaz-bolion and Innoti didn’t make it. Tyol Qe looks like he will pull through, but he’ll need a prosthetic. But about the other robot.”
“I just got up today, Garm. I don’t think I can tangle with a killing machine just yet. I got exhausted walking.”
“That’s because you’re so damn heavy. Did you see how often everyone describes you eating in The News?” she said, laughing.
“You said it too.”
“You were! Here we were going down the street, the first Colmarians to face a Dredel Led in a trillion years, and all I can hear is you stuffing your face with rations.”
“I was hungry. Your body needs energy, you know,” I said defensively.
“Look, we’re having trouble tracing the other robot. We’re not sure where it’s hiding. Just think of the damage it could do. It’s not just one person. It’s a Dredel Led. If it tries to knock out the life support on the station, do you really think our engineers are up to the task of stopping it?”
“But why would it? Why would an alien come all the way out to one of the furthest, least important settlements in the entire Colmarian Confederation? I mean, do they think we’re an eyesore?”
“I don’t know what rust slugs dream about but I know we have to keep them off our pipes. And you don’t have to be in top shape, just point your gun and shoot it. This time I’ll stand plenty far behind you and keep my eyes closed. But be careful where you aim. That gun blasted clean through three buildings. I’d hate to think what it would do if you pointed it straigh
t down.”
The doorbell rang.
I opened the door, there was no use hiding.
“Hi, Jyen.”
Jyen somehow squeezed past me and entered my apartment. She looked harried, but stopped short when she saw Garm.
“Oh. Hank, I need to talk to you, please.”
“Who’s this?” Garm asked. She wasn’t used to being relegated to second place in any conversation.
“Garm, Jyen. Jyen, this is the Adjunct Overwatch,” I stated importantly. As if to suggest she should now leave.
“Good,” Jyen responded. “I know why the Dredel Led are here.”
There was a pause that hung in the air.
“What,” Garm finally said. It wasn’t a question.
“The Dredel Led. They’re here because of Hank.”
Garm and I exchanged looks. It was like someone saying the robots were here because of the noodle casserole on the corner of 43rd.
“I’m sorry, Jyen, but right now I need to discuss some matters with Hank,” Garm said as politely as she could—which wasn’t very.
“I knew you were a level ten,” Jyen continued. “That’s how you could defeat them!”
“A level-ten what?” I asked.
“Mutant.”
“I’m a level four. Does it look like I can poop out planets, or whatever it is a level ten can do?”
“Watch,” Jyen said excitedly. Then she took a few steps back. Garm and I viewed her blankly. Like a precocious child who has just worn out your patience.
She held her arms away from her body, blue sparks began to crackle along her torso, and in a moment her entire body became engulfed in a bright tornado of electrons.
Garm dove into my kitchen as I stood there startled.
Jyen then thrust her arms towards me and electricity arced between us, splitting off smaller bolts to my walls and carpet and ceiling along the way.
I fell backwards, the jolt stunning my nervous system, my clothes melted or burning, my skin charred, and my body not very comfortable.
“What the hell!” I screamed at her.
The electricity vanished as quickly as it had started and Jyen approached and crouched down in front of me.
Hard Luck Hank: Screw the Galaxy Page 7
