Hard Luck Hank: Screw the Galaxy (27 page)

I stayed a bit longer with the Wardian working
out details. I got the sense that for every minute he talked to me, millions of
credits worth of “real” decisions weren’t being made.

After a shuttle back to Belvaille, a military
car dropped me off at my house, without the fuss of tying me up or anyone
smacking me on the noodle. In fact, I was shown quite a deal of respect.

Inside my apartment, Jyen and Jyonal were
waiting in my kitchen.

“Come in,” I said, somewhat annoyed. “No one
bothers knocking nowadays anyhow.”

“Your door doesn’t close,” Jyen explained. “We
saw the soldiers take you away. Are you okay?”

I had to be somewhat careful how I broached
this subject. I looked at Jyonal, who seemed perfectly normal, which made me
nervous.

“Well…,” I began, uneasily. Then I smiled
brightly and clapped my hands together. “It seems this was all a big
misunderstanding between everyone and the Navy. They’re nice guys.”

“Do they know about us?” Jyonal asked.

I thought if there was some way I could
linguistically deny that question.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to limit my responses.

Jyonal caught what I was doing and his voice
grew serious.

“Hank, just tell us what’s going on.”

Before I could answer, a soldier stepped inside
carrying a box.

“Where should I put this, sir?” he asked, as
Jyen and Jyonal looked at him, startled.

“Anywhere is fine.”

He walked into my kitchen, past the dumbstruck
siblings, and put it on the table next to my delfiblinium. He then turned and
walked out without so much as looking at anyone.

“What was that about?” Jyen asked.

“Right. So the Navy knows about you guys and
they’re going to likely need your help,” I confessed.

“Did you tell them?” Jyonal asked. Was it my
imagination or was there an ominous light behind his eyes when he asked that?

“Not so much tell, but I confirmed,” I said
weakly.

“Hank. We trusted you.” Jyen looked honestly
hurt, but I was more concerned with Jyonal, whose jaw was gritted.

“Look, you can kill me if you want,” I said,
regretting that intro immediately, “but the Navy is the least of your worries.”

“What?” Jyonal asked, his eyes suddenly clear.

And like a good negotiator, I kept my position
of strength.

“You all are going to have to do what I say
when I say it if you want to survive what’s coming.”

“What’s coming?” Jyen asked feebly.

I ignored her and went into the kitchen and
opened the box, pretending I was a Wardian on a dreadnought.

“Go back to your apartment. I’ll come talk to
you in a day or so. There’s other things I need to get situated first.”

Then I fixed them with a stern gaze and held
it.

They blinked and slowly walked to the door.

“But you’re okay?” Jyen asked before going out.

“No one within 1000 light years of this space
station is okay,” I replied coolly.

I was full of confidence as I strode outside
the next day. I adjusted my collar and contacted the Navy on a secret tele
channel.

“Hey, stop blocking Belvaille’s
communications,” I ordered.

The faceless soldier on the other end did some
checking and then I heard typing.

“Give it five minutes for synchronization,” he
said.

Yup, this was my station. Everyone here,
everyone in space, in fact billions of people on nearby planets were all
relying on me.

I gave a thumbs-up to the soldiers at a nearby
bunker.

My tele rang, indicating it was now unblocked.

“Yo,” I said, seeing Garm’s face on the other
end.

“Hank, where are you at?”

“Eh, just walking.”

“We heard you were taken by—,” she started.

“Yeah yeah yeah” I interrupted. “Get everyone
together. All the resistance or whatever. Meet at, uh, the Gentleman’s Club.”

“That place isn’t safe anymore. We should—”

“Hey,” I interrupted rudely. “Just do it. I got
this under control.”

Garm looked like she was trying to figure out
whether to be angry or surprised. I hung up before she decided.

I then called Delovoa, who answered after a
minute.

“Still alive?” I asked.

“Barely,” he whispered.

“Meet at the Gentleman’s Club. Big discussion.”

“That place isn’t safe.”

 “Just do it.” I clicked off.

Whistling, I hopped a few trains out west to my
secret stash. I was glad to see my Delovoa-constructed closet hadn’t been
disturbed and my plasma pistol was still inside.

I went for a walk, as it was nice to feel at
least partially at ease on Belvaille again. Teles kept coming in with
suspicious bosses asking for confirmation. Despite the soldiers nearby, I
casually confirmed we were meeting at the Gentleman’s Club.

I went home and took a nap. I then freshened up
a bit and headed to the club. The old place was a mere shadow of what it once
was, though it still smelled the same.

Inside, there were thugs and bosses and
everyone in between waiting in the cafeteria for me. The bosses were mostly
aloof and many stood by the windows, apparently looking out for trouble.

“Drinks all around,” I yelled to the bartender.

“We don’t have any alcohol,” he replied.

“Well then sandwiches,” I said magnanimously.

He grumbled and went into the kitchen.

“What are you wearing, Hank?” Rendrae asked
suspiciously.

“This?” I asked nonchalantly. “It’s my uniform.”

Garm walked up to inspect me, her eyes bulging.

“You’re an Oberhoffman in the Navy? You work
for them now?”

“We all do,” I said gleefully.

And I was faced with a room full of resistance
fighters who suddenly seemed to realize I was the enemy. About to be murdered
in ten different ways, I powered on my friendly plasma pistol and it started
the windows rattling.

“Right,” I said, my face taut. “Let me explain.
Jerks.”

I warily turned off my pistol to be better
heard across the room, but I backed up so I could see everyone.

“I just made a deal with the Navy. Belvaille is
going to be an Independent Protectorate of the Colmarian Confederation.”

Blank stares all around.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means we can fly our own flag,” I answered.

“And what’s that mean?”

“We rule ourselves,” Garm said slowly. “They
can’t search our ships. They can’t tell us to do anything.”

The room was silent, to my great annoyance. I
had been expecting them to celebrate.

“Don’t you guys get it?” I asked. “This is way
more than what you wanted.”

“So we can get our businesses back?” one boss
asked warily.

“We can do anything,” I exclaimed. “We’re our
own country. Sort of.”

“So the Navy is just going to leave?” Garm
asked.

“Yeah. But they want to lease the telescopes
from us,” I cautioned.

Everyone looked as if I was speaking a foreign
language.

“So why are you wearing that uniform?” Rendrae
asked, unconvinced.

“There’s some stuff I need to organize here. I
can’t go bossing a bunch of military groups around as just some normal person.”

“You negotiated this?” Tamshius asked in awe.

“Yes,” I said, still waiting impatiently for
realization.

“So we flushed all our product for nothing?” a
fat boss named Ameda asked.

“You can make it back!” I shouted.

“Do you have any paperwork on this?” Garm asked.

I threw a copy of the declaration on a nearby
table. I didn’t walk away, feeling I was at least no longer in danger of being
killed.

A crowd gathered around the documentation.

“We can do illegal activities here?” Leeny
tried to confirm.

Before I could talk, Garm spoke for me.

“We can do anything we want. Hell, we can
advertise we’re illegal, because it won’t be illegal here. We can be a damn
trade hub, provided we can get more Portals online.”

“Exactly,” I said, glad my labors were finally
getting some appreciation.

“What is it you have to do?” Rendrae asked with
slit eyes.

“I need to deal with that Dredel Led that’s
still running around.”

The bosses were either reading the document,
talking rapidly with one another, or were deep in thought. No one was by the
windows anymore.

“When is the Navy leaving, Hank?” Big Moff
asked.

“Right after they take care of the Boranjame,”
I said.

The enthusiasm evaporated from the room like a
fart sucked into space.

“What?” Garm asked.

“Yeah, you know that activity you were monitoring
out there?” I told her.

“Oh, no,” she said, looking defeated.

“There’s a Boranjame ship coming?” the
bartender asked, as he paused handing out bad sandwiches.

“Not exactly here,” I corrected. “In this
general area.”

“What a load of nonsense,” Rendrae grumbled.
“They conned you. They got you to gather all the resistance together for a
mortal strike. They’re probably waiting outside right now.”

I sighed and put away my pistol and took out my
shotgun.

“Is that Navy armor?” I asked Rendrae, my gun
pointed at him.

“No, I’m not wearing any,” he lied, his hands
up.

 A few men went back to the windows to peek
out.

“The resistance is officially over. As of now.
No soldier will shoot at you if you don’t shoot at any soldier. Do you think
that whole fleet of ships came here because of Belvaille? The fuel costs alone
to get them here were like …you know, a lot. If you want to resist something,
resist the Boranjame.”

“Hank,” Garm said. “If they’re really coming,
you have to know we’re going to be killed. This,” she said, holding up the
treaty, “doesn’t mean anything.”

“Have some faith, Garm. But first I’m going to
need everyone’s cooperation.”

The criminal element of Belvaille could be
enormously helpful to the Navy. We knew the station and already had a perfect
command structure in place via the gangs. Every citizen could be mobilized if
we just enlisted the bosses.

Therefore, I deputized the bosses and gave them
permission to restart all activities—the entertainment would help lower
tensions and the revenue would earn Belvaille’s trust. But the primary goal was
to assist the military with whatever they needed. We had to quickly convert
Belvaille into a full-service drydock.

Delovoa had been eating his sandwich quietly in
the corner as I was putting this together. When people departed, I went to him
to start the difficult phase. Garm stayed as well.

“So how likely is it you can talk to your
Dredel Led and stop it?” I asked him.

“Not likely at all. On further thought, I think
it’s malfunctioning. Or in some kind of circuit loop. It’s probably not going
to acknowledge any more commands until it’s done,” he said.

“Done what?” Garm asked.

Delovoa shrugged.

“Destroying the station? I don’t know,
honestly.”

“You don’t seem too concerned,” I jabbed.

“I’m just burnt out. Imagine waking up every
morning and seeing it standing over you.”

“What did you first tell it to start it going?”
Garm asked.

“I don’t know, exactly. I was mixing parts of
words. But I was trying to say ‘kill.’”

“Why were you telling it that?” Garm shouted,
throwing her arms up.

“This was when we were trapped by the Navy at
Delovoa’s hideout,” I explained.

“You work for the Navy. You’re higher rank than
I was,” she said, seeming particularly irritated by that fact.

“This was before that,” I said.

“Oh.”

“We’ll have backup, Delovoa.”

“Start thinking up words and phrases,” I said.
“You got it to go berserk in just like ten seconds of trying. You know it’s
ancient Colmarian. Work on it.”

“Work how? I can’t go to my lab and build
sentences with metal parts.”

“I can put you in touch with the Navy. You’re
my official advisor now. Garm, what’s a good Navy title for that?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, annoyed.

“I’ll give you a title too,” I stated, trying
to appease her. “What do you want?”

“I want the Navy gone and the Boranjame not
coming. Barring that, call me whatever you like.”

“Alright then, Grumpy Garm.”

“Do I get paid for this?” Delovoa asked,
seeming to finally brighten at his prospects.

“Sure. If we live.”

Later at Jyen and Jyonal’s apartment, I was
trying to squeeze into some Navy body armor when Jyen broke the silence.

“Will we really be able to do it?”

“Which part?” I responded, my arm stuck in a
piece of armor clearly not designed for me.

“Any of it.”

“Sure.” Then, looking at those frightened eyes,
I took Jyen by the shoulders and gave her a big, passionate kiss.

She slapped me.

“Ouch,” she said, holding her hand.

“Wait, what? Why’d you hit me?” Wondering if I
had misread every signal I had ever gotten from her.

“That’s for you not wanting to come with us
when we had the chance,” she said, miffed.

“I didn’t even know you guys. Then the Portal
was closed. Besides, this is my home. You have to admit, you guys don’t really
belong on Belvaille. You’re too nice.”

“You’re nice,” Jyen countered.

I looked at her. Was she really that naïve?

“Jyen. I’m a bully. That’s my job.”

“But you don’t do it in a mean way,” she said,
as if trying to convince herself.

I sighed and went back to struggling with my
armor.

“Maybe you’re right,” she began, “we probably
don’t fit in on Belvaille.”

Then she put her arms around me and looked deep
into my eyes. Her lips were wet.

The tension was made that much more tense when
Jyonal entered the room and cleared his level-ten mutant throat.

I practically pushed Jyen across the street I
was so startled.

“So where do we find the Dredel Led?” he asked
as if he hadn’t seen anything.

“Finding it isn’t the problem.”