Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Screw the Galaxy

I motioned for him to go past the Dredel Led towards the basement.

Delovoa seemed to steel himself. He closed his eyes and slid with his back against the wall.

He was nearly even with the robot when it swiveled its torso and faced Delovoa.

Delovoa stopped, but he didn’t open his eyes. I held my breath.

After long moments without death visiting him, Delovoa continued sliding along the wall.

He slid over the open door and fell backwards onto the ground.

ZR3 adjusted its legs to align itself with the prostrate Delovoa. The robot’s left shoulder was now a mere three feet from me, but I was mostly behind it.

Delovoa got to his feet and walked out of my view.

Suddenly ZR3 took a number of steps forward. It hit the doorway at an angle and bent the thick metal frame. It didn’t even bounce off, but stood there in the indentation. The building hadn’t even slowed it.

I looked up worriedly, wondering if it might collapse the house, but I didn’t think so.

ZR3 took a few more steps and, with a horrific screeching, ripped apart the door frame.

When the robot had thundered out of my sight, I gingerly followed after the pair. Part of me said I should get out of there and let Garm artillery the whole building on top of them.

But this wasn’t a little Dredel Led. I wasn’t sure if it would notice a house falling on it. How did Delovoa ever get this thing here?

I walked past two more ruined doorways and stood at the top of a long ramp that led to the basement. Delovoa cowered in a far recess of the room, backed into a corner by the Dredel Led. The destroyed Dredel Led I fought rested nearby, still under its shroud. Did ZR3 know the other robot was there? What was their connection? What if that sheet slips off and ZR3 sees we killed its long-lost cousin? I didn’t see there was anything I could do, however.

“Hank, now what?” Delovoa asked up to me.

“Do you want me to bring down your bedding?” I asked. “Do you need food?”

“You can’t leave me here,” he implored.

“It’s tearing apart your house like it was paper, what do you think I can do?”

“Hank,” he pleaded again.

“I have to talk to Garm.”

“No,” he said, clearly worried what her response would be. “Can’t you shoot it with your pistol?”

“Shh.” I became acutely aware we were talking about how to kill a thing that was standing between us. We knew it could understand some Colmarian. It seemed a pretty bad idea to risk learning just how broad its vocabulary was.

“Do you want your bed?” I asked again.

Delovoa seemed resigned, slumping to the floor.

“Yes. And bring me my toolbook.”

“You’re not going to work on it, are you?” I asked cautiously.

“You think I’m stupid?”

Yes, frankly. Who else would stand in front of a working Dredel Led, poking it to try and get a response?

“I just want to do some schematic work.”

I went up to his bedroom and brought down his mattress and sheets. I walked very carefully past ZR3, but it showed no interest in me.

I also went out and got Delovoa some food. The best meal I could get. How he was going to use the bathroom with a many-ton shadow was his concern.

The Portal was opened.

Freighters and cargo ships that had been languishing on the other side for weeks or months finally poured in to the station.

The crews of those ships, folks accustomed to living in space sometimes a year or more at a time, looked haggard and vacant. They all headed to the bars and drank themselves senseless. Not in any kind of celebration, but with darker purposes.

Finally, some information began trickling out. The other side of the Portal was crammed with Colmarian warships.

All these merchants who had their hulls full of contraband and stolen goods had to sit surrounded by the oversized law enforcement of the Confederation. The stress was enough to make even the coolest of sailors crack.

And more ships were constantly coming. Massive vessels, some with their own a-drives, popping out of the void.

After feeding them enough drinks or drugs, the captains would warily look around and speak of the dreadnought. A ship so large and intimidating that when it appeared, some freighters panicked and tried to flee, only to receive a stern warning from the Navy. The mouths of its cannons were larger than the length of a cruiser. The sailors could think of no good use for such a ship other than mass planetary destruction.

The supplies were sorely needed on Belvaille, which is perhaps why they were finally let through. But we also had an influx of illegal goods.

Instead of unpacking those items, they were pretty much moved straight to the bonfires or the airlock and unceremoniously disposed of. No captain complained. Not even ones who hadn’t been paid. They were fully aware, more than anyone on Belvaille, of what was waiting on the other side of the Portal.

I avoided Garm’s apartment for the most part. In fact, I don’t think I had ever actually visited it. I just didn’t feel right about going to the Adjunct Overwatch’s private home.

But I wanted to talk to her free from other distractions.

There were guards posted outside. Guards inside. A guard at her door. Seemed rather excessive, but I suppose she was making more enemies than usual lately by forcing the bosses to purge their wares.

Having been announced, Garm finally let me in.

Her apartment, if you could call it that, looked like a palace.

Precious metals and gemstones were everywhere and the whole apartment was filled with items of wealth and extravagance. There were little figurines covered in glittering diamonds, on top of a bureau covered in rubies; so many expensive rugs on the floor that they overlapped bulkily; exquisite vases filled with fake flowers made out of mosaics of jewels; a giant antique mirror with hand-carved etchings that must have taken years to complete. It looked like someone had picked the good bits from a museum and squished it down to the size of a Belvaille apartment.

I had often mocked the bosses for their conspicuous lack of taste and over-the-top décor. But Garm had shamed them all. I had to admit, taken as a whole, which was not easy to do, her apartment was overwhelming. And maybe that was the point. Or maybe there was no point and she just really liked expensive junk.

“The ceiling?” I asked. “You have paintings on the ceiling?”

“What do you want, Hank? I have a lot to do.” She stood by a fanciful table covered in mythological beasts. She seemed to be studying blueprints.

“How are you going to explain all this stuff?” I asked, still looking around in wonder.

“This isn’t my official home. I live in a nondescript little place. But yeah, a lot of this is going on the fire,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve been avoiding it.”

“I’ve got some bad news and some really bad news,” I said. I felt I couldn’t keep this under wraps any longer.

“If this is some boss worrying about anything, you need to take care of it. Do whatever you have to do. I have more important things to deal with. The Portal is open and I haven’t heard word one from the Navy.”

“I have delfiblinium,” I said plainly.

“I asked you if you knew of some and you said no!” Garm bellowed.

“I know. I thought I could take care of it.”

“Hanks don’t take care of delfiblinium. Governments do. Huge teams of scientists. Why can’t you men ever admit you’re in over your heads? How much do you have?”

“A couple hundred pounds. About.”

Garm’s mouth dropped open and she sat down on a nearby gilded chair. Well, she fell onto it.

“You’re sure this is delfiblinium?”