Hard Luck Hank: Screw the Galaxy

by Steven Campbell

  She handed me a list with five names on it. I knew a couple of the names vaguely, but they were obviously in a different crowd. If they were squealing on Garm, they were in a very different crowd. Must be a lonely life for an honest citizen on Belvaille.

  As I looked at the list my door buzzed. I thought I had turned it off. I ignored it.

  “You going to get that?” Garm asked.

  I shook my head and kept looking at the five names as if I were reading something incredibly complex.

  Garm went to my door and opened it.

  I looked outside and saw it was one of Ddewn’s old thugs. Oh great. A payback? I took out my shotgun and hurried as fast as I could to back up Garm.

  “Yes?” Garm asked.

  The poor guy looked terrified. As I rounded up, gun in hand, he threw out his arm towards me. He held a token.

  “From Big Moff,” he blurted.

  It was a token for eighty thousand credits. Hey, a bonus.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, taking the token.

  “Who’s Big Moff?” Garm asked, clearly not favoring the name.

  “He’s the new boss in Ddewn’s old territory,” I stated as if she should know these things.

  After depositing the token, I holstered my shotgun and turned back to the thug.

  “Tell Big Moff thanks,” I said. “What’s your name?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he stammered, and hurried off.

  I closed the door and went back inside. Things were looking up.

  “Was that eighty grand?” she asked.

  “Yup,” I said happily. But then I got serious looking back at the list. “So I can scare these guys, but I’m not going to be so scary once your friends from the Navy get here.”

  Garm smiled.

  “Hank, you are far scarier than you can possibly imagine. I think you get scarier by the minute. I’m scared of you.”

  I laughed at the idea.

  “Weren’t you just shooting me a few days ago?”

  “Yeah, and it didn’t do anything. These people will be plenty frightened. You can kill two if you have to, but not more.”

  Garm opened my door to leave.

  “How’s the contraband coming?” I asked.

  “Terrible. We might have to seriously clean house around here to get compliance. You shooting Ddewn was probably the best thing that happened to make this go easier, because I just tell people he chose not to cooperate and ‘girk.’”

  She drew a line across her throat.

  CHAPTER 20

  When Garm left, the first thing I did was tele Jyen. I left her a message saying I’d like to hang out with them later and do something fun. I used my most pleasing voice and hoped I didn’t sound as insincere as I felt.

  As I walked to the train to run a few errands in the meantime, I heard an odd hissing noise. It grew more pronounced and I saw Rendrae off to the side trying to get my attention by nonchalantly waving his arms around. There weren’t a lot of shadows on Belvaille because of the overhead lights, but somehow he had found one to hide in.

  “Rendrae, what are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Shh. I see you’re still working for Mistress Garm,” he said acidly.

  “Okay, you were right about a lot of things. She is Military Intelligence, the station does conduct surveillance, and the Navy is about to land on our throats.”

  “That’s old news,” Rendrae snapped. “Though I’m glad to see you finally came to reason.”

  “But Rendrae, we’re all on the same side. No one wants the military here. And with you printing all these scandalous truths, you’re going to lead them right to us.”

  “All of Belvaille mysteriously passes out for hours and you’re worried about police inspections?”

  “I didn’t pass out,” I said coolly.

  “I know. You and about twenty other people. Mostly those who were insulated or beneath ground. But I’m sure you have a perfectly logical explanation for it.”

  “I do.”

  “And you can’t tell me again, of course.” His eyes rolled dramatically.

  “No.”

  “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry for you, Hank. The extent of what is going on around here is vast.”

  “There’s plenty to worry about, I know.”

  “Like Garm trying to kill me?” he asked.

  “She’s not trying to kill you. She’s trying to get you to be quiet. You’re drawing bull’s eyes on all our heads. You’re not even writing in code anymore.”

  “What’s the point when you’re surrounded by the Confederation’s greatest code breakers?”

  “I think that’s being a little excessive,” I said.

  “Really? How’s this for excessive: two dreadnoughts are converging on Belvaille as we speak.”

  “I thought it was just one.”

  Rendrae looked sad I wasn’t shocked at his revelation.

  “You heard that? But no, it’s two. What do they need two of the empire’s largest ships out here for?”

  “But hey, that’s good,” I said, thinking.

  “What? No, it’s not.”

  “No, listen. I was worried they were going to use the dreadnought to blow up the station. But they don’t need two for that. So they must have another reason.”

  Rendrae seemed to think about this.

  “Maybe we’re going to attack someone. The Dredel Led,” he said to himself.

  My face immediately contorted into disbelief.

  “The Colmarian Confederation start a war? You kidding? We’re the fat kid of the galaxy, who could we possibly beat?”

  “I don’t know, ask Garm. But it’s clear we have to stand up to the military before they completely take us over. It’s us against them. No one has ever bothered Belvaille before now.”

  “Except the Dredel Led,” I corrected.

  “But they’re gone.”

  “Rendrae, just lay low. Print some…sports stories or something. I don’t know. Just don’t keep pushing. At least for a while. Otherwise Garm really is going to take a hit out on you. And standing in the corner isn’t going to save you.”

  Rendrae mulled this over.

  “Tell you what, if you can get Garm to promise to stay off my back, I’ll do like you say. But I need your word.”

  “No problem, you have it. But don’t be surprised when the battlecruisers show up, you get a personal invitation to meet them. You’re making it hard on yourself, too.”

  “I am prepared to die for my principles,” he said, sticking out his chest.

  “And what principles are those? Keep Belvaille dirty?” I said with a snicker.

  “Keep Belvaille free,” he countered with conviction.

  CHAPTER 21

  Now I had to go threaten Garm’s snitches.

  I didn’t like messing with normals for the most part. They did their jobs and we did ours. Sometimes our paths crossed and they lost, that’s the nature of the business. I mean, if we try and lay down a bribe and the guy won’t accept, what are we supposed to do? Say, “oh, well,” and move on? Of course not.

  Besides, this was for the safety of all of us. When the troops got here, no one was going to listen to people like me. I’m a murderer. I haven’t worked a real job in my life. But some straight-laced folks with perfect records, they’ll listen to them. And if they start pointing fingers it could go bad.

  I had never been this close to the telescopes, which looked like huge satellite dishes. They were aligned all across the northern edge of the city and there were far more than I’d ever realized.

  Garm had given me an electric pass that let me into the offices.

  Inside it was crammed with machinery and workers and desks and tables. It looked pretty impressive, actually.

  A mousy little man in a formal suit walked up to me.

  “Can I help you?” he asked with an air of disdain, as if he was certain I didn’t belong there—and he was right.

  “I need an office, or a room where I can
speak to some people,” I answered.

  “What is this regarding?” he sniffed.

  “It’s regarding you finding me a room before I smash your face.”

  I could have just said it was official Adjunct Overwatch business or blah blah, but I didn’t feel he deserved the courtesy. People talk about criminals being jerks, but I found it’s just the opposite. If a thug has an attitude problem he’s going to be out of work pretty quick or dead pretty quicker. But regular slobs have to put up with all kinds of crap and they can’t do nothing about it.

  The mouse returned with a security guard who also moonlighted as muscle for Garm. He recognized me immediately.

  “Oh,” he said to the manager. “You need to do what he says,” indicating me.

  The manager had a mini-outrage, as if the brutes were suddenly taking over. He sputtered and gurgled and I nearly expected his eyes to pop out from steam pressure. Regardless, the security guard left and the manager was alone and his neck was the size of my thumb.

  “I suppose you can use room 23 down that hall.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I then took out my tele and read to the room full of workers, “Is Houtin Lovecraven here? Houtin Lovecraven?”

  There was a pause and a plump, middle-aged woman raised her hand shyly. I sighed and waved her over. The workers all stopped as the woman nervously made her way to me. I escorted her down to the room that had been indicated.

  The room was small and cramped and didn’t have any furniture. The door also didn’t have a lock, so I stood blocking it once we were inside.

  The woman looked up at me expectantly. You could be certain she was someone’s grandmother and likely great-grandmother.

  I held out my tele to her.

  “Read this,” I said.

  She began reading and I could see recognition slowly dawning.

  “You know that?” I asked.

  “Yes. I wrote it,” she said quietly.

  “Did you think no one would read it?”

  “I was hoping someone would.”

  It was at this point I realized she thought I was some person from the military. Or government. Or wherever she’d sent her message off to, come to heed her call.

  “Your tele never cleared this station,” I said. “It was intercepted.”

  She was confused.

  I reached into my jacket and pulled out my Ontakian pistol and powered it on. In the cramped room the vibrations were positively jaw-aching.

  “You know what this is?” I asked rhetorically.

  “No,” she said, staring into the light.

  “Really? Uh.” I turned it off and put it back into my jacket. I then pulled out my shotgun. “You know what this is?”

  “No,” she answered with her tiny voice.

  “You sure?” I held it at different angles for her to see.

  She looked at it, but I could see no understanding in her eyes.

  “No, I’m sorry. Should I?”

  “Do you not get out?”

  “Excuse me?”

  I put my shotgun away and scratched my nose.

  “What is it you do here, Houtin?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say,” she replied delicately.

  “That’s okay, I’m here to kill you so it doesn’t really matter.”

  She recoiled against the wall, eyes wide. Suddenly my appearance seemed to make sense to her. Maybe even my guns. She dropped to her knees and began sobbing uncontrollably.

  A few times I tried to interject, but she was hysterical and I could tell she was beyond processing anything I said.

  I waited. I mean she had to stop at some point or she was going to get dehydrated.

  A half hour passed and she was sitting on the floor with her knees to her chest and her head down, wailing just as loud as when she started.

  I teled a guy I knew. Asked him how he was doing. Said we should get together later this week. He asked me what the screaming was in the background. “Work,” I said.

  My knees hurt so I sat down as well.

  After ages, the crying began to slow a bit and I stood back up to resume my position of menace.

  “Houtin?” I began. “Houtin. Hello, Houtin?”

  She wiped her eyes but did not look at me.

  “You know, I’m not supposed to do this,” I said, “but I just might be able to let you live.”

  She finally looked up. Her face was a swollen reddish-purple. I did feel like a heel, but what could I do?

  “If you agree to not talk to any military officials regarding what you wrote, I think I can convince my boss you’re trustworthy. You’ll have to sign this, though.”

  I handed her my tele, where I had whipped up a couple-sentence agreement while I was waiting for her to finish weeping.

  She hesitated.

  Great, was she going to start crying again?

  “It…,” she said weakly.

  “Yes?”

  “It…has misspelled words.”

  “Oh. Well, it’s not really a legal thing. It’s more you just saying, ‘hey guys, don’t sweat it.’”

  She signed it and handed it back.

  “So you’re okay with this? You’ll keep your mouth shut?”

  She nodded emphatically.

  “Great. Um, but you do know what will happen if you don’t, right?” I asked threateningly.

  “You’ll…kill me?”

  “No. We’ll torture you,” I said, flaring my nostrils. “Have you ever been tortured before?”

  She shook her head quickly.

  I didn’t know the first thing about torture but I wanted to leave her with an image that stuck, and more importantly, kept her silent.

  “First we strap you down with restraints. We have billhooks clasping your ankles and wrists so you’ll cut yourself if you even twist. A cable is attached to a crossbar between your knees and connected to a ceiling pulley where it loops back down to a metal bit between your teeth. A winch…A winch…”

  She was terrified, but her eyes blinked rapidly. I could tell she had no idea what I was talking about.

  “But it won’t come to that, so don’t worry about it,” I said with a smile.

  I walked over and helped her to her feet. She very reluctantly took my hand. I opened the door to leave, but she remained inside, collecting herself.

  “I, uh, need to use this room,” I told her.

  As we walked back, our footsteps echoed more than I remembered. The woman was behind me somewhat, blowing her nose as quietly as possible.

  I came back to the main work area and it was obvious the entire staff had been panicked into submission from Houtin’s bawling. The manager was as far away across the office as possible.

  “I need to speak to JonakathR…,” I yelled to the group, who were all staring at me in fear.

  It figures. Right by the door.

  He took off outside before I could even finish his name.

  That was enough nonsense for today. He had to come back to work sometime or go home. But there was no way I was going to catch him at the moment.

  Fortunately, time is on your side when you’re hunting someone on a space station.

  CHAPTER 22

  I got a tele from Leeny, a boss I liked working with because he represented the fleshy business side of Belvaille. He asked me to come over as he wanted to talk in person.

  I supposed he wanted to thank me for taking out Ddewn as the two hadn’t gotten along—not that Ddewn had gotten along with anyone.

  None of Ddewn’s former rivals had talked to me as of yet. They probably had their hands full dealing with Garm’s new cleaning policies. Either that or they weren’t comfortable with me killing a crime boss. It was not how things were usually handled.

  No, usually it was the foot soldiers who got killed until a boss was so weak he had to acquiesce to some buyout or other, and then he would reluctantly leave the station or be absorbed into someone else’s operation. It was rare for bosses to be killed, which usually
only happened when they were so intransigent there was no other choice.

  I had upset the precious balance, the decorum of criminality, by popping Ddewn. But you know, I was tired of apologizing for it.

  Leeny was located centrally in the station, just outside of Garm’s offices. He owned a lot of the hotels and represented nearly all the men and women who worked as prostitutes. It was said Leeny had the most valuable database on Belvaille, as it had every citizen and their sexual proclivities and experiences.

  Not all Colmarian Confederation mutations worked out so well. Most were fairly benign, but Leeny looked like someone took two ugly people, threw them in a blender, picked out the most hideous bits, and stitched up a new person. It was almost amazing he could speak out of the mismatched jigsaw puzzle that was his face.

  But he had a great personality. I suppose you had to, looking like that. And from what I heard he treated his workers well. You’d think with access to all those girls he might be a real Lothario, but if he was, he never played it up.

  Leeny’s office was sparse except for quite a few chairs and abstract sculptures. The room was modern and artsy. The chairs were curved and uncomfortable and didn’t seem designed for sitting in. His desk was slanted and stylish and completely unusable as a desk. Leeny nonetheless sat behind it, his knees probably squished. He had a horn of graying hair sitting lopsided atop his head and an electronic suit with geometric patterns. You couldn’t tell if he had wrinkles or that was just how his face creased.

  Also inside the room, sitting down and not facing me, was what looked like a ball of fur inside an oversized suit that fit like a tent. His eyes were only barely visible past facial hair that merged with his eyebrows and fluffy mane. He had so many layers of clothing it would probably take hours to frisk him.

  I knew him by appearance to be a bookkeeper.

  I don’t know much about finances, but the various bosses all employed bookkeepers. Just like family members, they were considered off-limits when it came to conflict. I think simply because no one knew what they did and they were too valuable to lose. They all basically looked like this furry man.