“Well, there’s just one, my friend. The High Patria, Khagel of the Empire, Archduke of Zeobedon, Prince Exarch of the Boranjame, His Illustrious Lordship, the Everlasting Theabsin.
Damn, I should have thought of a better title for myself.
“I want to keep this ship out of Colmarian territory.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do. However that would mean it would have to enter some other empire, the Boranjame must grow, and this ship requires tremendous resources. That’s why all these diplomats are here to begin with: to bribe and beg for their empires’ safety. You are at a disadvantage, Colmarian. Or at least, they all have a head start.”
“Do you think the Boranjame Prince would talk to me personally?” I asked, wondering if I could end-around this council which certainly didn’t have my best interests in mind.
“I can present you. Even offer a credential of reference. Though, there is of course a price consideration,” it said.
Oh, great. Getting in a haggling match with an Ank was like me running a marathon against a Po.
“How much?” I asked uneasily.
And it said something I didn’t understand.
“Huh?”
It said something else I didn’t understand.
This went on and on with its same flowery voice, its same expressionless facade, for some time. No wonder these guys were the perfect negotiators. They literally had poker faces. Finally it mentioned something I knew.
“Credits?”
“Credits!” I pounced. I was nearly exhausted even though I had merely repeated my lack of knowledge over and over again.
“Good,” it said. “I believe 183 should suffice.”
“Uh, 183 credits?”
“Yes.”
“One hundred,” I said, drawing the number in the air, “and eighty-three…?”
“183 quadrillion of course.”
I think I reacted less when the Ontakians had nearly shaken me to death.
“Yeah. I’m going to have to talk to my bookkeeper I think,” I said, pondering that sum. As if it was merely stretching the old budget a little bit. Did they even have quadrillions? Were there even that many credits in the whole galaxy?
“I can talk to your bookkeeper if you’d like. I’m trained in accounto-linguistics.”
“He’s not here at the moment,” I said, leaving out the part that there wasn’t room for him in my missile.
“Ah,” Depakoze said. And though it said it exactly the same as everything else, I got the feeling our meeting was over and it knew me for the poor bastard I really was.
It was then I noticed a unique pin on its jacket. It had a small gem with swirling colors in it.
I reached out and touched it.
“Hey, what’s that?” I asked.
“Excuse me,” it said, leaning away from me. “You don’t see me sticking my toes in your ear, do you?”
I immediately let go.
“No. You’re right. My apologies.”
“Accepted. We all have our cultural peculiarities. But you have an excellent eye. It is one of my favorite features. I got it on my 206th birthday.”
“It’s lovely,” I said, worried about having a quadrillionaire Ank mad at me.
“It is a stickpin with a delfiblinium sliver.”
I had to think. It seemed the galaxy had gotten together and collectively offered up my species for sacrifice without even a good-bye kiss.
I knew I couldn’t outbid these guys. I didn’t even understand their terms. If the Ank was asking for quadrillions even for an introduction, we weren’t going to put together anything of that magnitude.
No one would take a Colmarian offensive seriously, so I couldn’t threaten them. Especially when our great Navy had shown its backbone by fleeing the moment this world-ship appeared. I had to get back on familiar ground. What would I do if these were gangs and bosses?
I started working the room and glad-handing the diplomats. As I said, everyone likes talking about themselves and snobs love it even more than most. The idea was to find out anything I could use. What weaknesses did these aliens have? What were their objectives?
The Gandrine ambassador talked with incredible slowness and volume. Mostly he spoke of the joys of sitting in the light of the orange sun of his home world. Or sitting at night. Or sitting in the rain. I got the idea Gandrine was very dull.
The Rettosians said nothing to me directly. Standing outside their clique like a doe-eyed wannabe, I had to overhear them talking with themselves. It was gossip of the lowest sort. Which politicians were dating which celebrities; which parties were the most fantastical; how much summer homes were going for along the coast.
The Keilvin Kamigan floated nearby and was happy to speak to me. It had been sent as an envoy to the Boranjame over ten years ago, but it really missed its home. The world-ship simply was an uncomfortable living environment at the best of times. It also missed its family. I tried to imagine what little kid gas clouds looked like.
I took a break in my room and pondered the diplomats. They all had that universal self-importance that comes from being influential go-getters. Yet here they were out at the edge of the known galaxy, not even in their own empires.
It was then I realized I had these guys all wrong. They weren’t like gang bosses. They were like the filthiest errand boys at the bottom of the gang hierarchy. They wanted to be gang bosses. I mean no one became a diplomat because they liked to travel. There were plenty easier ways of seeing the universe.
These guys entered politics so they could become someone big. But they pissed off the wrong person and got sent all the way out here.
While placating the Boranjame was a needed job, it had no prestige. It had no perks. It had nothing that anyone who entered politics placed any stock in. Everything of import was done back on their home worlds. These guys were out of the loop.
But I knew what they wanted. They wanted to escape this place. They wanted lives of leisure, positions of power. To move up the food chain. They were just doing time here, like convicts on Belvaille waiting out their statutes of limitations.
CHAPTER 47
I racked my brain and finally came up with something that might have a chance. Theatrics were a necessary part of my plan and I needed the help of the Po servants, so I gave them detailed instructions and prayed they could understand me.
The diplomatic meeting started again and I took my seat with all the other aliens.
“Transcommunication network costs need to be more evenly divided among our empires!” the Gandrine shouted.
The Po I’d contacted earlier with instructions, approached and placed something in front of the Gandrine ambassador before quickly retreating.
More Po came in and laid objects in front of every diplomat and hurried away. No one reacted as the items were not recognized and the Po were seen as background noise to be ignored. I decided to nudge things along and I stood up to speak.
“Gentlemen…and such, the material that sits before you is the reason why I am here,” I stated calmly.
“Your Excellency has already once—,” the purple Po began.
“That’s delfiblinium,” the Rettosians squealed, pointing at the metal on the table, and they jumped away knocking over chairs in their haste.
All the diplomats got to their feet, or equivalent, and backed away as the Po servants continued to pile my uncrated luggage before us.
“The Colmarian Confederation has perfected the process of delfiblinium manufacture. Who wants to do business?”
The first rule of serious, life-or-death negotiating I ever learned was: stall. Even if it was for an hour, in that hour you could often scrape something together more permanent. Every moment they’re listening, you’re not dying.
This was a life-or-death negotiation. Yeah, we had no other delfiblinium. And it took Jyonal, a level-ten, drugged mutant, to make this batch. But no one else knew that.
The Ank was suddenly standing next to me.
“Do you n
eed a broker?” he asked.
When the table collapsed under the weight of the delfiblinium, the diplomats were all strangely silent. This was a highly dangerous substance in front of them, yet they overcame their fear because it was also a potential ticket out of here. I was offering one of the rarest substances in the galaxy, possession of which might elevate any of these diplomats back into the high esteem of their home governments.
The assorted aliens practically attacked me. What do I want? How much do I have to offer? The Qwintine have always favored the great Colmarian Confederation.
But I was waiting for one person who wasn’t here.
“Hank, the Boss,” the purple Po stated.
“Is this not new business?” I asked caustically.
“Could you speak privately?” It tried to make himself heard above the fray.
“I want this ship stopped. And I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to the Prince.”
CHAPTER 48
The Therezians walked ahead as the purple Po accompanied me to the Prince’s chamber. We had taken a series of moving floors and flying transports and tube shuttles to get this far. It was far indeed. Before a negotiation this important I would usually want to eat and rest first, but I wasn’t sure how much time I had. Belvaille may have already been destroyed for all I knew.
“Proceed,” the purple Po stated, offering a dozen arms to indicate the direction, as if there was a doubt. It was impossible to tell how large the approaching room was, but the Therezians looked like action figures in comparison to its entrance.
When I finally crossed the threshold, I must say I was impressed.
If the other halls had been massive, this one was in a category all its own. It was beyond belief. It was extraordinary.
Directly in front of me, floating some hundreds of feet in the air, was the Prince.
The purple Po had instructed me to kneel, but I was too dumbstruck.
The Boranjame, as there could be no doubt that’s what it was, exceeded all expectations. I tried to take him in, but it was difficult. The Prince must have literally been miles long and miles high.
He was composed of rotating, intersecting, moving crystalline patterns. It was like a million, mile-long snowflakes dancing and bisecting each other. Each one had different shades and reflections of scintillating color.
He was fantastically beautiful.
All around the Prince were what must have been thousands of Po—some on the ground, some on ladders or cranes, some in tiny airships. They were so far away it was tough to tell what they were doing. Cleaning him? Feeding? Playing cards? Who knew?
It was only through their presence that I could estimate the size of the Prince and the size of the room itself. In the corners of the high room, almost beyond visible range, were artillery guns. An impressive security system if there ever was. I thought of Jyen briefly as I would need to be destroyer-resistant to survive those weapons.
It looked like a full-service space dock. But instead of servicing a battleship, there was this prism of royalty. I don’t know what I had expected, but this wasn’t it. The room had a severe dampness and chill, my breath billowing in clouds, and there was frost on the floor and many surfaces.
Was there a whole race of these things? It seemed impossible.
“Why are you here?” I suddenly heard from a set of speakers nearby. The voice was simulated, but unlike the clunky Po voice boxes or the Keilvin Kamigan accents, this was a lyrical, yet imposing Colmarian voice. As if he had a paid voice actor out of view—and maybe he did.
“I’m here to trade,” I said, snapping out of my reverie.
“And what is it you have to offer?”
“I didn’t say trade with you,” I fired back, idly wondering if this thing could eat me.
After a pause that made me very nervous, the Prince continued.
“I understand you have delfiblinium.”
“And I understand this ship is headed for the Colmarian Confederation.”
“We require planets.”
“Don’t we all. Don’t we all,” I said, like a down-on-his-luck galactic overlord. “But I can’t let you pass into our empire.”
“And what would you do to stop me? Little Colmarian.”
This isn’t Belvaille, I thought to myself. Take it easy. I looked back up at those artillery cannons. I didn’t speak. Because my mouth was dry. Because more lives than I could possibly imagine were at stake. And I really didn’t want to say anything stupid for once.
“If you invade us, there will be galactic war.”
“Between my people and the Colmarian Confederation?”
“No, between your people and every empire represented back there,” I said, indicating behind me, even though the diplomats were likely dozens or even hundreds of miles away. “Because a condition of them trading delfiblinium with us will be to mutually defend each other if attacked.”
“And do you believe they would honor that agreement?”
“They’ll make the arrangement because no one wants to be the only empire without a delfiblinium stockpile,” I said.
“Even if true, would they be able to resist my ship?”
“I guess it depends on how many delfiblinium warheads this heap can withstand.” I looked around appraisingly.
“What is it you want?”
“I want this ship stopped.”
“It already is. But we need planets.”
“How many?” I asked. That being the oddest concept I had ever verbalized.
“We need approximately 200 class 2B planets and 100 class 4J planets.”
Those designations meant nothing to me. But 300 planets was something. I had no idea how many occupied solar systems the Colmarian Confederation had, but you couldn’t start plucking planets out of them without harm.
“How about the Dredel Led?” I asked. “You could take planets from their empire instead.”
“They would be a formidable enemy.”
“Not worse than every other empire combined. Besides, they tried to invade us and failed. They won’t be a problem. And no one likes them anyway.”
The Boranjame only have these ships. It was their only advantage—though large advantage it was. I must have scared the crystals off this guy with my delfiblinium warheads threat. Despite the fact that I bet we could pile every ounce of delfiblinium that existed in the Colmarian Confederation under the Prince and detonate it, and he wouldn’t get more than a tummy-ache. If he even had a tummy.
I put on my best gambler face and seemed to ponder.
“I’ll tell you what, if you pull out of here, and engage the Dredel Led for your planets, we won’t trade any delfiblinium with any other empires.”
I was negotiating to not trade something I didn’t have. I thought I was the smartest guy in the galaxy until:
“We will trade for all of your output,” the Prince said. “We will not cross into your territory, though we make no provisions or restrictions about engaging the Dredel Led or any other race.”
I stood there thinking that over even though there was nothing to think about.
“Sure,” I coughed.
Neither of us spoke for what seemed like minutes. Was he waiting for a handshake, because I didn’t see any hands?
“Nice meeting you, your Excellency, Hank the Boss,” he said. And the whole of the Prince stopped moving momentarily, and then started revolving again, but slower. He displaced so much air I actually felt a breeze.
“Nice meeting you,” and I realized I had completely forgotten his name, “the most amazing ruler of the most amazing race of the Boranjame.” I sought to hide my blunder with a bit of flattery. “May you rule for ten thousand years,” I proclaimed, bowing low. I had no idea how long they lived. I hoped that wasn’t an insult.
“And may you not be betrayed and murdered by your best friend. Unloved, your corpse deserted in the coldness of space, where memory of you would swiftly become less substantial than the faded light of a long-dead star,�
�� the Prince replied.
That was awful specific. I had the idea that the Prince knew something he wasn’t telling me, but I was too frightened to ask.
“Thanks,” I managed to squeak.
CHAPTER 49
“Garm. Garm. You there?”
After long moments she finally answered.
“Hank? What’s going on?” Even on the tele screen I could see her panic.
“Hey, can someone pick me up? They dropped me off here.”
“To the world-ship?” she asked, stunned.
“No, they’re leaving. I’m in a shuttle. I’ll transmit the coordinates. I can explain when you guys get here.”
My pick-up was relatively uneventful thanks to the excellent spacesuit and shuttle the Boranjame had provided. I couldn’t fly the ship, as it was designed for Po, but it kept me protected.
I did not see the world-ship leave as I was facing the wrong way, but I felt its gravitational tug get weaker and weaker, and then it must have finally engaged its a-drive and blipped away to go hassle some other unfortunate species.
Garm and company used a cargo ship and towed my shuttle back home, it being too difficult to attempt a transfer in space.
I had mentally prepared myself for death when I originally set out to the world-ship. But with that past and the space station Belvaille looming into view, I admit I cried with joy. It was an unbelievable weight off my shoulders. I was coming home.
The dock was empty except for Garm. She didn’t want to start a general panic on people seeing me return whole from my assignment.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Give me a second,” I said, as I tried to take off my spacesuit. I didn’t have the many hands of the Po to assist me. There must have been twenty buckles on the vest alone.
Garm was clearly desperate for answers and she saw some of my belongings and picked them up.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“A contract with the Boranjame.”
Garm’s eyes went wide as she scanned it.
“Cool, huh? By the way,” I said, looking around to make sure no one overheard, “you need to contact whoever you need to contact and get them to put all our resources into delfiblinium processing.”
Hard Luck Hank: Screw the Galaxy Page 29
