Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Basketful of Crap

“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.”