Hard Luck Hank: Basketful of Crap (7 page)

“Hank, I need
your help, man,” Bronze’s face came on my tele looking concerned.

“What’s wrong?”
I asked.

“I need you to
double date with me.”

I hardly
considered that an emergency.

“I didn’t think
you had a tele,” I said.

“I don’t, it’s
Qindol’s. Isn’t she pretty?” He held the tele up to her and the woman smiled as
if she were not very comfortable with the situation.

“Why do you
need me?”

“I don’t know
anyone else and they said they knew you. There’s two of them.”

“I’m at the Gentleman’s
Club. I need to go home and shower.”

“Fine, we’ll
meet you at your place. Where do you live?”

“One. One. Hank
Block.”

Bronze stared
at the tele.

“Are you
serious? Is that named after you?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. You are
without a doubt the coolest person I have ever met! Guy has his own street! We’ll
be right there.”

Hey, a date.
When’s the last one of those I was on? I finished my sandwich because I didn’t
want to be hungry on a date when I suddenly remembered:

“Damn!”

I jumped up and
ran as quickly as I could through the cafeteria, knocking three guys out of the
way.

If I ever
wished I was faster it was now.

I was bouncing
my feet on the train ride home hoping they were coming from Deadsouth in which
case I would get there before them. When I finally showed up, there were two
women, Bronze, Toby, and my toilet waiting outside my apartment building. The
women looked none-too-happy.

I had put my
toilet outside because without the water and chemical flow, it dried out and
started to stink up my apartment. So I did like the plumber said and put it
outside—though I didn’t use it of course. The dead body was harder to explain.

I hurried up,
in my bare feet, smelling of the Gentleman’s Club with an autocannon as a
sidearm.

Bronze hugged
me like I was his long-lost brother.

“This is too
much. Are you like the king of Belvaille or what? Is this whole street yours?”

“No one lives
here. It’s not that I own it.”

The women were
huddled together and whispering and glancing like they were trying to figure the
safest way out.

“I can explain
this stuff,” I said, indicating the deposits on my front door.

“No one’s
asking,” Bronze said, as if it were beyond rude to question outdoor plumbing
and corpses. “This is Qindol.” He pointed to a shapely woman with not a stick
of hair on her. She had tattoos in their place. She had great bone structure
and, as I said, a great body.

“And this is
Byo’lene.” He then indicated the other woman, who was presumably my date. Her
expression was a mixture of horrified and terrified. It was tough to gauge her
actual looks beyond that. She wore tight, skimpy, synth clothes that were
nonetheless classy. From her wardrobe alone I could surmise Bronze hadn’t met
her anywhere near Deadsouth.

“So,” I said,
hoping to talk about anything. “How do you ladies know me?”

“We don’t know
you, we know
of
you, that’s what we were trying to tell him,” Qindol
said, exasperated.

My stomach
dropped. It was crystal clear to everyone except Bronze that these ladies did
not want to be here. Maybe they wanted to be with him, but they were not
remotely interested in hanging out with Hank of Hank Block.

“Want to come
inside?” I asked.

“Sure!” Bronze
volunteered.

I tried my best
to mentally will the women to come up with some excuse to leave, but they
dutifully followed him. They both hung around him like he had a protective
force field and the closer they got, the gigglier and happier they became. He
just had that effect.

Inside I took
off my autocannon and looking around I realized my apartment was still a bit disheveled
from when I fought the pale sisters. They hadn’t done much damage, but I had
smashed around trying to hit them.

“How about
something to drink?” I offered.

“If it ain’t a
bother. I can have water. Or anything you got,” Bronze said.

He sat on the couch
and the women sat on either side of him.

In my kitchen I
thought about which brand to get. Bronze probably didn’t care, but I kind of
wanted to splurge—and maybe show off a bit.

So that’s what
I did, I poured some of my best alcohol. Bronze slammed the drink. I’m not sure
if it even touched his tongue.

“Thanks, Hank!”

The women held
their glasses and didn’t drink. As if they were expecting me to poison them.

Bronze and
Qindol began canoodling on my couch. Tickling each other and petting and
kissing. While Byo’lene looked beyond awkward and stared into her drink like her
very soul depended on counting the molecules in the liquid.

I sat in a
chair and drank.

“Byo’lene,” I
began, “what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a dancer,”
she said, not raising her eyes.

“Which club?”

“Tamshius
qua-Froyeled’s,” she said, pronouncing his name expertly.

“Oh, I know
him. I’ve worked for him a lot. Nice guy.”

She didn’t
answer. She looked over to her friend who was busy.

“You know I get
on them about the uniforms they make you all wear. I mean sure they can look
good, but they’re a little demeaning and silly.”

“What do you
mean?” she asked, finally looking at me.

“Is that your
work uniform?”

“No.” Her eyes
blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what I was saying.

At this point,
I wasn’t sure what else I could do to make things worse. Maybe drag my toilet
inside and use it right in front of the couch.

Bronze finally
came up for air and he was either a great kisser or a great something, because
Qindol was putty.

“Sorry, Hank,
who were you saying you worked for?”

“Oh. Just her
boss, Tamshius.”

“See? Small
city. What did you do for him?” he asked conversationally.

“Killed
people,” Byo’lene offered with venom. I think she had finally deduced I had
been poking fun at her clothes.

Bronze jumped
to his feet and turned to the couch.

“Whoa. Whoa.
You just take it easy. You know what this guy has done for this station?”

“Let’s go to
your place, baby,” Qindol purred, her hand reaching out to him.

“Look, we are
guests here. This guy has been nothing but kind. On his own street, mind you.”

“Just a block,”
I said.

“I want to go,”
Byo’lene huffed.

“I’m getting a
little tired anyway, Bronze. Maybe you guys should head out and I can talk to
you some other time,” I said.

But Bronze
Badel Bardel wasn’t having it.

“I think you
two should apologize to Hank,” he said, and it was the first time I had seen
him not happy.

“He’s got a
dead body and dirty toilet outside,” Byo’lene said, making it very clear there
would be no apology from her. She stood up and put her glass on the armrest of
my couch, where it knocked over and spilled its contents.

“Look at that,”
Bronze said, pointing. He turned back to me, mortified. “Hank, I’m really sorry
about this.”

“Nah, don’t
worry about it. It is what it is.”

I stood up and slowly
tried to usher everyone outside. Imagine that five minutes ago I was excited
about this.

“Come on,
baby.” Qindol was still clawing at Bronze.

It took a bit
of shepherding, but I managed to get them all outside.

Bronze was
saying sorry, Byo’lene had her arms crossed so tight I thought she might crush
her own ribcage, and Qindol was all but trying to mate with Bronze right here.

“Nice having
you,” I said, waving.

Suddenly
Byo’lene crumpled to the ground.

I was
apparently the only person who noticed and went over to check on her. She was
lying on her side and when I turned her on her back, I saw a wound in the
center of her chest as if from a gunshot.

“Get inside!” I
yelled at the other two.

Qindol finally
saw her friend and began screaming. Bronze grabbed her and pulled her back into
my apartment.

I tried to
check Byo’lene’s vitals, but my hands were too thick to feel a pulse. I turned
her on her stomach and saw a sizeable exit wound. Whatever shot her had gone
clean through.

If she wasn’t
already dead, she would be in mere moments. Moreover, I was concerned her
killer was now looking at me.

We waited in my
apartment for the better part of a day.

I asked Bronze
and Qindol everything about themselves and the deceased. They mentioned nothing
that would make them logical targets for assassination. At least not all the
way out on Belvaille—Bronze really did have a lot of ex-wives.

I could only
assume that I was the intended victim.

But if someone
was trying to kill me, using a normal gun wouldn’t be effective. And they had
shot Byo’lene perfectly for a mortal strike.

Still, I felt
the two were safer away from me and Hank Block. I told them to run out of my
apartment and head in opposite directions. When they left, I briefly waved at
my front door to notify the killer I was still inside.

The two reached
their homes and teled that they were fine, which confirmed they were not the
targets.

Or the assassin
got tired of hanging around.

I went to sleep
after some home cooking and woke to find I had to go to the bathroom, which
meant going up to one of the other apartments.

In the hallway
of my building, the pale ladies were waiting.

“Hey,” I said,
bleary-eyed.

They took out
their weapons, and began flipping and twirling around.

“You know—” I started,
and got a knife in my mouth. “Kach!”

My toilet was
outside and the pipes were all stuffed with calk to prevent water from spraying
everywhere. So that option was gone. The hall was narrower than my living room,
but it was long and tall and they simply bounded away from me.

I couldn’t
figure why they were here.

I walked into
the corner of the hallway, getting stabbed all along the way, and I sat with my
back—and butt—against the wall. I put my head between my knees and wrapped my
arms around them, balling my hands into fists, so they couldn’t get at my
fingernails. I then curled my toes under as best I could.

“Didn’t we do
this already?” I asked them from my protective shell.

“Are you
neglecting your responsibility to us?” one of them asked, though they were
still attacking me.

“It’s not easy
finding someone in this city. I’m looking. Did you kill that lady outside?”

“We are
tourists,” the other said.

Slash. Cut.
Stab.

“Clearly. I
need more information on your sister. What is she here for?”

There was a
pause and I was tempted to look up but I got stabbed a few more times and I
stayed put.

“She came to
try and find someone.”

“She came to
find someone or you all did?”

“Both of us.”

“Are you
looking for the same person?” I asked, trying to muddle through.

The attacks
stopped.

“Are you asking
us if she is looking for herself?”

“No. I mean,
no. But, um, who is she looking for? Is she looking for Garm?”

“We know where
Garm is. Why would we contact Garm and ask for assistance to find Garm?”

Man, I really had
it with saucy, bossy women—who were playfully trying to kill me.

“Hey, can you
stop hacking at me for a minute so we can talk? This isn’t how I do business.”

They stopped
and I peeked up. They were standing a comfortable distance away with their
weapons sheathed.

I didn’t stand
but I relaxed a little and rubbed the places they cut. I also scrutinized them
a bit more, as if I was expecting to spot the sniper rifle used to kill
Byo’lene hidden somewhere in their bikinis.

“Who is she
trying to find?” I asked.

“We cannot
say.”

“Can’t say
because you don’t know or don’t want to say?”

“Both,” they
answered helpfully.

“If I knew who
she was looking for it would be good. That would be twice as many chances for
them to overlap with other people I know.”

“The person she’s
searching for is a criminal.”

“That’s like
everyone on Belvaille. What does she want with him?”

The pale ladies
communicated with each other silently.

“We don’t know
if it is a male or female or other. But she wants to kill the person. Which is
why we want to stop her.”

“So you’re
protecting the criminal?”

“No.”

I stood up.

“Okay, I’m
confused. She wants to find and kill someone. You want to stop her. But you
don’t like the criminal either? Why stop her?”

“She is not
allowed to kill the person.”

“Allowed? What
does she need, a doctor’s order? Who isn’t allowing her? You guys?”

The pale ladies
paused.

“Garm.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!” I yelled at Garm in her office.

“Because it’s none of your business.” She sat behind her desk with her
feet propped-up, twirling her pistol absently. Even relaxing she couldn’t stay
still.

“How is it not my business? This is the exact definition of my business.
I’m getting paid for it.”

“I don’t know who they’re looking for,” she said, unconcerned.

“Who isn’t the problem. It’s where.”

“Whatever.”

“I’ve known you for decades, why didn’t you tell me you were in a
secret…thing?”

“One, because it’s secret. Two, because it’s none of your business.
Three…it’s not that secret.”

“I didn’t know!” I protested.

“Like I know everything about you.”

“What’s to know? I’m an open screen. How long has this been going on?”

“Um. Since I was born? It’s what our planet does.”

“Kill people,” I said with horror, like I was a priest.

“Like you’re a priest or something. Besides, it’s not just
assassinations, that’s a very small part of our training. Every planet produces
different things, right? If there was a Hank planet everyone would be a
complainer who was slow and ate a lot.”

“I’m a mutant. The government did this to me!”

“Sure.”

“Does the Navy know about you? Your ‘connections’?”

“That’s why they hired me. It’s a very similar skillset. I did
Intelligence work, remember?”

“I can’t believe they would overlook that kind of background.”

“They hired you.”

“As a senior officer,” I jabbed.

“Yeah, for two weeks or whatever. And you never got paid.”

“So how are you stopping the assassination?”

“Easy, we have to keep track of each other. This is my territory—as bad
as it is. They requested to kill someone here, I said no.”

“What are you, their boss?”

“No, it’s just common decency. I can’t go into someone else’s territory
and set up.”

“Territory? Is killing people here your job?”

“Look, what did I do as Adjunct Overwatch?”

“I don’t know. Navy stuff.”

“Besides that. What did you and I work on?”

“When we dated?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“No. When we just worked on anything. When I hired you to do something.”

“I don’t know. Protect stuff, break stuff, buy stuff—”

“Exactly, that is what I do in my territory and I don’t want outsiders
coming in assassinating people.”

“People get killed all the time,” I argued.

“Locals, by locals. It’s a whole other thing to have members of the
Quadrad come here and assassinate folks.”

“So you’re fine with tanks rolling through the streets and bombs going
off in casinos but some skinny ladies with knives is too much?”

“They wouldn’t use knives, they’d use whatever they needed. Hank, I would
love to tell the corporations what they can and can’t do. And they would ignore
me—at best. I can tell members of the Quadrad.”

“So you’re in this Quadrad still?”

“By birth, by death.”

“Why don’t you look like them?”

“Because I’m not bleaching my skin and dying my hair, maybe. You’d look
like them too if you did that. Well, maybe not.”

“But you do kind of look like them,” I said, staring.

“We’re from the same planet. The same country. I like to think I look
unique, but I suppose we have some similarities.”

“Do you still got clothes like them?”

I was picturing Garm in the pale women outfits. Those boots. That hair.
Those bikini-things. I mean, Garm didn’t flash much skin, but she was a really
toned gal.

“Stop it,” she said, annoyed.

And I knew she was fast. Probably as athletic as those women. Maybe more.
I could see her flipping around and those strong shoulders, with muscles on her
back, and firm legs.

Bang!

“Ow!” I yelled, snapping out of my
reverie and grabbing my forehead where Garm shot me.

She was across the room with her smoking
gun. I hadn’t even seen her move.

“Keep your thoughts to yourself,”
she cautioned.

I couldn’t catch her, but I was
really tired of these Quadrad. Their home world must have a billboard with my
face on it ticking off the number of times they had beaten on me.

I turned to Garm’s desk. Her
magnificent bejeweled desk. I began tilting forward. More. More.

“No!” Garm yelled.

Crash!

I fell face forward onto her desk,
smashing it into splinters. There were fragments all across her office. Little
jewels glittering in the corners.

“Do you have any idea how much that
was worth?” she screamed.

“Yeah, and I notice you didn’t say
‘cost’ since you didn’t pay for it.”

“What if something really important
had been in there, you fat jerk?”

I slowly got to my feet and brushed
off pieces of desk.

“Now you know not to shoot me.”