Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Screw the Galaxy

Holding it hostage, more likely. She could have left it in my place when she came by.

Jyen was still talking excitedly. I put my hand on her shoulder.

“Look. Jyen. Sorry, I need to run. Important business and all.”

“Do you know when you’ll be back? What I have to say is extremely urgent.”

I couldn’t imagine they were out of drugs already. Or maybe he’d overdosed. In any event, she didn’t say she was going to give me money, so her situation was prioritized appropriately.

“I’m just getting back on my feet,” I said, as I moved away from her. “But feel free to get in touch with me later. In a few days.”

I continued to read The News on the train. There were some passengers on board and they all wished me well and grinned at me even though I had no clue who some of them were.

I ate at a quiet restaurant where no one bugged me. I just wanted to wash the taste of rations from my mouth. As I sat, I continued to read The News . The stories got more and more outrageous the further they went back in time. People I vaguely knew were talking in first person about events that only sort of happened. I admit I don’t have the best of memories, but is this how people recalled stuff? Or was this Rendrae trying to sell papers by embellishing? Or maybe this is what people wanted to remember.

I rested back at my place. The News was very flattering, but it was also like my biography. Everything had looked grim, no hope of survival, and then I showed up, looking calm as could be, eating a sandwich.

Me eating featured prominently in a whole lot of anecdotes.

After a few reads I became more and more disenchanted with it all. I mean, was this my life? It was the same thing over and over again, only the names and what I was eating at the time seemed to change.

I’ve never really thought about a legacy. But for the last century it sounds like I was basically a bully with low blood sugar.

I suppose on Belvaille that’s high praise, and I did get the sense that people meant it that way. Then again, if you laid almost anyone’s life out like this it would kind of be one note, right? It’s not like I have the chops to be some Colmarian diplomat. Or cook up a cure for whatever diseases are out there.

Still, I was a bit in a funk when Garm walked into my apartment.

“Just because you can open it, I still expect you to use the doorbell.”

“You said you would come see me and you didn’t.”

I could tell Garm’s being able to track my movements was going to become highly irksome.

“Here, I had Delovoa fix it up. It got kind of bent when that robot shot you.” She tossed me my shotgun, which was bright and shiny.

Delovoa was the one true genius on the station. There were plenty of technical people here, of course. Guys who wore suspenders and smelled of obscure solvents and worked on the ventilation or any of the other hundreds of systems that kept us alive. But they were mechanics and only knew their one little expertise—and they didn’t even know those well if history was any indicator.

Delovoa made his money by being a technology vendor to all the bosses. He designed and made the weapons. Security devices. Hell, just about anything. He’s the one that offered to buy my Ontakian pistol. Good thing I hadn’t sold it. Originally, he had also created my shotgun for me. He was expensive, but he made good stuff. I heard he was banished to Belvaille for breaking technology restrictions like the mad scientist he was.

As I was admiring the feel of the gun, Garm came over and hugged me.

“So, we still have a Dredel Led we have to deal with,” she said, quickly breaking her hug and backing away while looking at my bare ceiling as if it were interesting.

“Uh. How are your men?” I asked, Garm’s being uncomfortable making me uncomfortable.

“Reaz-bolion and Innoti didn’t make it. Tyol Qe looks like he will pull through, but he’ll need a prosthetic. But about the other robot.”

“I just got up today, Garm. I don’t think I can tangle with a killing machine just yet. I got exhausted walking.”

“That’s because you’re so damn heavy. Did you see how often everyone describes you eating in The News ?” she said, laughing.

“You said it too.”

“You were! Here we were going down the street, the first Colmarians to face a Dredel Led in a trillion years, and all I can hear is you stuffing your face with rations.”

“I was hungry. Your body needs energy, you know,” I said defensively.

“Look, we’re having trouble tracing the other robot. We’re not sure where it’s hiding. Just think of the damage it could do. It’s not just one person. It’s a Dredel Led. If it tries to knock out the life support on the station, do you really think our engineers are up to the task of stopping it?”

“But why would it? Why would an alien come all the way out to one of the furthest, least important settlements in the entire Colmarian Confederation? I mean, do they think we’re an eyesore?”

“I don’t know what rust slugs dream about but I know we have to keep them off our pipes. And you don’t have to be in top shape, just point your gun and shoot it. This time I’ll stand plenty far behind you and keep my eyes closed. But be careful where you aim. That gun blasted clean through three buildings. I’d hate to think what it would do if you pointed it straight down.”

The doorbell rang.

I opened the door, there was no use hiding.

“Hi, Jyen.”

Jyen somehow squeezed past me and entered my apartment. She looked harried, but stopped short when she saw Garm.

“Oh. Hank, I need to talk to you, please.”

“Who’s this?” Garm asked. She wasn’t used to being relegated to second place in any conversation.

“Garm, Jyen. Jyen, this is the Adjunct Overwatch,” I stated importantly. As if to suggest she should now leave.

“Good,” Jyen responded. “I know why the Dredel Led are here.”

There was a pause that hung in the air.

“What,” Garm finally said. It wasn’t a question.

“The Dredel Led. They’re here because of Hank.”

Garm and I exchanged looks. It was like someone saying the robots were here because of the noodle casserole on the corner of 43 rd.

“I’m sorry, Jyen, but right now I need to discuss some matters with Hank,” Garm said as politely as she could—which wasn’t very.

“I knew you were a level ten,” Jyen continued. “That’s how you could defeat them!”

“A level-ten what?” I asked.

“Mutant.”

“I’m a level four. Does it look like I can poop out planets, or whatever it is a level ten can do?”

“Watch,” Jyen said excitedly. Then she took a few steps back. Garm and I viewed her blankly. Like a precocious child who has just worn out your patience.

She held her arms away from her body, blue sparks began to crackle along her torso, and in a moment her entire body became engulfed in a bright tornado of electrons.

Garm dove into my kitchen as I stood there startled.

Jyen then thrust her arms towards me and electricity arced between us, splitting off smaller bolts to my walls and carpet and ceiling along the way.

I fell backwards, the jolt stunning my nervous system, my clothes melted or burning, my skin charred, and my body not very comfortable.

“What the hell!” I screamed at her.

The electricity vanished as quickly as it had started and Jyen approached and crouched down in front of me.

“See? You weren’t even hurt,” she explained.

“Yeah, I’m hurt. That hurt a lot. Get me some water, quick,” I yelled to the hiding Garm, who had her pistol out and was peeking over a chair. She hesitated a moment, probably waiting to see if Jyen was going to fry anyone else, then she backed up and warily fished around in my cupboards.