Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Screw the Galaxy

“So is there nothing we can do?” Tamshius asked plaintively.

“First off, look around. Go on. Everyone here is now your best friend. If ANY static goes off between you, I will have you killed. And I’ll use Hank, who will beat you to death and, knowing him, will complain about it to your corpse for the next month,” she said.

I kind of snapped out of my reverie at the mention of my name. This was really a lot of bad information for anyone to handle. But I didn’t mind being the heavy if it kept us alive.

“What I’m counting on is them not staying for too long. They have blueprints of Belvaille, but they are old ones. We’ve made changes to the station that aren’t recorded anywhere. That means there are buildings, sewers, ducts, structures that the Navy won’t know exist unless they trip over them. We can use those as caches to hide our stuff. And even with all the troops here, most of the southwest is still going to be shut down. We can risk hiding things there too. But look, we don’t have a ton of room. You’re going to have to dump a lot.”

“And let me guess, you’re selling us the right to use that space?” Ddewn said, his eyes slants.

“You don’t get it?” Garm asked, shaking her head. “Belvaille is a clean city as of now. There are no deals going on. None. If you spit on the sidewalk I’ll have you arrested for littering.”

“How are we supposed to survive like this?” a thin boss with a raspy voice wearing a poofy brown robe asked. I was wondering the same thing.

“I don’t know. Talk to some normal businesses here and find out what they do,” Garm said.

There was a lull, with everyone somber. Thinking about how much money they would lose. Or what having your city destroyed by a dreadnought would feel like. Or me sitting on them until they died.

“If there’s going to be twenty-five thousand troops here,” I said slowly, “they’re going to want to party. I don’t care where they came from or what branch of the service. This could be a business opportunity for you guys.”

And it was like a huge beam of sunshine hit them.

That Garm immediately obscured.

“But wait first. We don’t know their intentions. I mean I don’t, and I’m an Adjunct Overwatch in the Colmarian military. I find that distressing to say the least.”

“Maybe they’re looking to replace you,” Tamshius said not-so-under his breath, which garnered some laughs.

“They don’t need a dreadnought to replace me,” Garm replied icily. “Unfortunately, this isn’t a voluntary program. If you choose to not dispose of your illegal goods, I’ll be doing it for you. Because I’m not going to have you get caught and go crying about me or him or him,” she said, pointing at random people.

The room was indignant. These were businessmen. The idea of throwing away goods was repugnant to them. Garm cut through their noise.

“I don’t want to risk venting too much contraband from the station, especially once the big ships pass the Portal. So we need to get that done fast. If there’s an asteroid belt of stolen electronics orbiting Belvaille we won’t fool anyone. I know it’s hard to do, but it has to be done. We’re going to be visiting each of you this week.”

You could see there were a lot of questions, but at the moment they were swallowed up in fear.

“That’s it, folks,” she said far too cheerfully.

I hung around to talk with Garm.

“Is there really a dreadnought sitting at the Portal?” I asked.

“Not yet. We still have some time, but I wanted to get started early because I know this is going to be rough. But yeah, it’s on its way. I had some people contact me. It’s pretty hard to keep a thing like that secret.”

“Could it be coming out here for another reason? You said the telescopes saw stuff around here.”

She looked at me and seemed tired. Garm was never tired.

“Hank, there is no reason whatsoever for a ship of that size to be so far away from home. Out of the millions of ships the Navy has, they’ve got seven dreadnoughts.”

I picked up some food at a corner joint and from there headed to Jyen and Jyonal’s apartment. I wondered if I should grab some kind of gift, but I didn’t want to contribute to them feeling at home. The sooner they left Belvaille, the better.

I buzzed the door and Jyen let me in.

“Hank!” she said, looking thrilled. She gave me a hug straightaway, wearing a robe that was obviously for lazing around the apartment. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“I figured we could do dinner, I brought some food,” I said.

“Let’s go out. We hardly ever leave. You know the station so well.”

“Uh, sure,” I said reluctantly.

“I’ll get changed and let Jyonal know.” She practically danced out of the room.

Left alone with three hot meals in my hands, I looked around the apartment. Much to my concern, it seemed even more domestic. Desks crammed next to couches next to tables next to chairs. Whether Jyonal had conjured them up or they had purchased them was unknown to me.

After a bit, Jyen returned wearing a low-cut blouse and skin-tight slacks. She had Jyonal in tow, who looked terrible. He could barely stand, the skin on his face was considerably darker, his hair had fallen out in patches, and he looked emaciated. He had seemed so healthy last time I saw him.

“Some days are worse than others,” she explained, seeing my expression.

I needed to take them to a place that was inconspicuous or where I didn’t know a lot of people. A low-class place might not be phased by Jyonal’s dubious eccentricities, but it also might have clientele with no manners. I could take them to some small restaurant in a business district, but then it would be obvious I was trying to hide. I didn’t feel it was wise to offend them.

I decided on Daavisim’s club. He was an old boss I had worked with long ago. Smart guy, mostly kept to himself. I wished I could work with him more because he had no drama, but because he had no drama, he never needed my help.

Jyen was absolutely tickled to be out. She was almost skipping down the street as we headed for the train. Jyonal was another story. He had yet to acknowledge my presence and only seemed to be following Jyen out of habit. I can safely say it troubled me having a mutant of his power scuffing his feet and wobbling along next to me.

I didn’t know the doormen at the restaurant, but it was clear they knew me, as they stopped talking when we approached and nodded in the way tough guys do on recognizing another tough guy. Jyonal was invisible to them. Jyen got more than an appreciative glance.

Inside, the place had been redone and it was all bright lights and open tables. It seemed mostly to be a dancing and drinking establishment now, with the tables occupied by working girls and guys.

I asked someone nearby by if they still served food here and he said he thought so.

“Let’s stay,” Jyen said, excited. “Even if they don’t have food we can have some drinks. You want a drink, Jyonal?”

“Yeah,” he said immediately, which was the first sound I’d heard him make all night.

I led them as far away from the main floor as possible and we got a small table in the corner.

A waitress came by and asked for our orders. I was thinking of the weakest alcoholic drinks to get everyone. I ordered a Fizzback, a weak girlie drink, and told Jyen it was really tasty in hopes she would order it too.

“Double Gofuse,” Jyonal slurred. It was one of the strongest mixed drinks there was. Jyen also ordered a Gofuse.

“ The News said you’ve killed people before. What’s that like?” she asked inquisitively.

“Well, I’ve never killed anyone who wasn’t asking for it. Or, anyone I wasn’t paid to,” I amended after a moment. “I don’t go around shooting people. But some guys are just stupid. A lot of guys. If given the choice between backing down and living, or standing tall and dying, a lot will choose dying. Even though no one will remember what you did a month later.”