Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Screw the Galaxy

I pulled at my crusted jacket, trying to get it off my skin. Anything metal had fused and melted completely.

Garm came in with a cup, still eying Jyen.

“I’m not thirsty. Get me some water.” I took the mug and splashed it on my chest, where there arose a sizzling.

There was some banging in the kitchen, then Garm finally returned with a pot of water and doused me.

I got to my feet as Jyen backed away, seeming confused.

“But you’re a level ten,” she said miserably.

I took a deep breath before answering. I didn’t want any more unnecessary electrical discharges in my apartment, especially directed at me.

“Jyen. I’m a level four. That’s it. A destroyer shooting me would kill me and everyone I’ve ever known without breaking a sweat. That…lightning thing you just did was very painful. Was that some kind of device?”

“No, I’m a mutant like you. The Colmarian government has categorized you as a ten, though. I saw the report.”

Garm and I have known each other for a while. We talk all the time. We’ve been doing deals as a matter of necessity, and yes, friendship, for a fair number of years. She had that look.

I reached out my hand and grabbed her hard on the collarbone.

“What did you do?” I asked her.

“No one reads that report,” Garm said weakly.

“What report?”

“Look, each Adjunct is allocated funds based on population and infrastructure and military conditions and…mutant population.”

“What?”

“They figure, it takes more credits to look after more mutants. A pretty reasonable assumption,” she said nonchalantly.

“Go on.”

“They just total it all up and we get money based on that. You’ve been around so long there was no record on you. They probably wrote it down on stone tablets. So I figured we could get some more money if I bumped your level up a little.”

“You made me a ten?” I yelled.

“But no one reads that.”

“I did,” Jyen said helpfully. Garm scowled at her.

“Has there ever been a level ten?”

“I think so,” Garm said sheepishly. “But they died kind of quick. Hank, if I had known anyone was going to care about that number, obviously I wouldn’t have used it. I figured it was like population. We have eighty thousand people here and—”

“I thought there was 100,000,” I interjected.

“Yeah…,” Garm said, looking at the floor.

“So that makes sense,” I began. “The Dredel Led got a copy of your stupid report and they figured they had to kill this guy who might have the power to sneeze their race out of existence. Jyen, what are you, like a level six? Seven?”

Jyen had a thoughtful expression and snapped out of it.

“Me? No, I’m a level four.”

I almost hit Garm I was so angry.

“She can shoot lightning and she’s a level four. What do you think a level ten can do? No wonder the robots are here.”

“And that’s why they came out when you were there and we haven’t been able to find them since,” Garm said.

“Right, it was like, ‘Oh, hi, we’ve been looking for you, dumbass,’” I said with no amount of joy.

“Though how did they know it was you?” Garm asked.

“I don’t know, maybe because you kept calling me ‘Hank’?”

“Still, it’s kind of a good thing. Because now we know if you go out there, the last one will probably come and we can kill it again.”

“We? They’re after me. I killed it. And even if I do destroy it, what makes you think they’ll stop with just these two?”

Everyone was quiet, the only sound being water dripping off me.

“I don’t want to have to move to another space station,” I said, contemplating the terrible concept.

“I’m Hank! Hank is me! No one here but ole Hank!” I yelled to the empty street.

I stood in the center of the road far out in Western Belvaille. Garm and her men were five blocks away, armed with scoped rifles. Some were positioned in upper windows.

This was the fourth stop we’d made and I was getting bored. The immediate tension and nervousness had worn off hours ago. Now my knees hurt and I wanted to sit down. So I sat down.

“Stand up, Hank. What if you have to run after it?” Garm radioed to my ear.

“I’m not going to catch anything that has a jet pack. Or that has two legs, for that matter.”

Yeah, I was grumpy. I was bait for a Dredel Led, the twin of a machine that had practically knocked me into a weeklong coma.

We were going on the assumption that what Jyen said was true and these things were here to kill me because of my mislabeled mutant level.

I held my plasma pistol on my lap. I hadn’t actually checked it since the last fight but I didn’t notice any scratches. Presumably it had to be fairly sturdy considering its beam sliced up buildings.

We waited around for another hour, with me periodically yelling to the sky. We then drove to another location to try it again.

After an hour there, Garm and her men walked up to me.

“Let’s go,” she said, her eyes still scanning. “Nothing’s happening here.”

In the car we talked. I had put off food for as long as I could, I think partially because I didn’t want another story to be about me eating. But I was really hungry and stuffed my face as we drove.

“See, you’re doing it again,” Garm chided, unbuckling her equipment.

“What?” I answered, irritated. “I just stood outside for seven hours tensed and ready for a Dredel Led to come kill me.”

“It was closer to four hours and you sat half the time,” she countered.

I ate in silence.

“It might have known it was a trap. It might be laying low because its partner was destroyed. We have to think how we’re going to flush it out,” Garm said.

“If it’s after me, what more can I do? Walk out there blindfolded?”

“We’ll try again tomorrow. This time we’ll stay ten blocks away from you.”

“Make sure you use guys with good aim. I’m going to be pissed if you shoot me.”

Later, I exited my bathroom and my tele was sounding. It was Jyen and she wanted me to come over. She sounded worried, but she always sounded worried. Or giddy.

I took my time, poured myself a drink that I only sipped, cleaned the trash from my living room and moved it into the kitchen, and basically did everything I could to put off visiting electric Jyen and her loopy brother.

I buzzed their door, and once open, Jyen motioned me inside.

There was still no furniture. The pile of drugs was gone, or at least relocated. The small bit of clothes and belongings were stacked neatly along one wall, and her brother Jyonal was slouched un-neatly against another wall.

Jyen locked the door behind me. She had dropped her traditional-style clothes and had on a slinky little getup that was pure Belvaille. I’d never gone clothes shopping here for women, but I had to imagine the selection was categorized along the lines of waitress, bartender, hooker, dancer. And Garm. But she had her own clothes.

Jyen looked good though.

“Hank, thank you for coming. I want to ask you seriously if we can trust you,” she said.

I shrugged.

This was apparently not the answer she was looking for and she was crestfallen.

“What? I mean I bought you guys some drugs and you shot me with lightning. That’s about as deep as our connection goes.”

Jyen pondered this intently as her brother slid to the floor with a plop.

“Jyonal and I crossed twenty-six states to get to Belvaille,” she began.

“Why?”

“To meet you. A level-ten mutant living what seemed to be a normal life.”

“I’ve explained that I’m not a level-ten mutant.”

“Yes, I know. But when Garm said there were no other level tens because they had died, she was wrong.” Jyen’s eyes were staring straight into mine. I could tell she wanted me to ask her to continue. Push the story along.