Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Screw the Galaxy

“Will this be enough?”

I looked over the list for real this time, doing some calculations. I wasn’t a big drug expert, never really got the appeal. I figured she gave me more than enough to cover most of the list, and a few of the drugs wouldn’t be available at any price, they just weren’t here. She probably gave 10K too much, which I considered a good sign of faith. Even if she tried to screw me over, I had a solid cushion to make sure I got paid.

“Okay, I can do this. What’s your name and where do I reach you?”

“I’ll come back tomorrow if that’s okay?”

Wasn’t she a polite little drug addict?

“Well, I come and go a lot. I actually don’t spend much time here. You can tele me, though.” I gave her my number. Hey, anyone who gives me forty grand is a new personal friend.

“My name is Jyen,” she said, offering her gloved hand.

I awkwardly shook her tiny hand with three of my fingers.

“I’m hoping this shouldn’t take too much time to gather.”

“Thank you for your assistance, Hank. May I call you ‘Hank’?”

I briefly thought of what else she could call me, but I didn’t come up with anything funny.

“Sure.”

I showed her out and closed the door. Hot damn. Old Hank’s luck was definitely taking a turn for the better.

I headed to meet Zadeck. I gave him a tele, but I liked talking face-to-face. People can say whatever they want to a little screen on your wrist. If you’re there in person, I find it’s just a completely different atmosphere. He said to meet him at one of his clubs.

I spoke to a few familiar faces on the train. One guy wanted to use me as a reference for bodyguard work, but I declined as gracefully as possible as I didn’t know him well. Another guy passed along an offer of a permanent job, but I declined that also. My motto for survival on Belvaille was: don’t take sides. It’s what had kept me employed all these years.

Gangs were unusual things. They were like fraternities, only meaner. They often had their own clubhouses and uniforms and they could be as tight-knit as families. I could never understand why guys gave so much to such a random collection of people. Why they were willing to die for some emblem that wouldn’t even notice they were gone.

I stopped along the way at a soup spot to refill the tank. I normally ate more than an average person, but not nearly as much as my mass would indicate. Another anomaly of my mutation.

The soup was on the house, because that was one of the occasional perks of being me. I really tried to take care of the people who worked on Belvaille by tipping well, as it never hurt to have too many friends. But the proprietor in this case was refusing my money.

As I entered Zadeck’s block, the populace and atmosphere changed immediately. They had painted all the walls garish colors and there were statues and sculptures everywhere.

Not everyone was a violent criminal on Belvaille; some were merely thieves or economic rule-breakers who wanted to enjoy the spoils of their labors. Zadeck, and the boutiques of his block, provided the comforts those folks were expecting.

Women walked with parasols and big frilly dresses. Men had on the most constrictive, flamboyant suits. To me it seemed like the wealthier you were, the more your clothes had to be nonfunctional. I doubted any of these people could even scratch their ears without falling down.

In one sense, they looked like easy prey for the scum of Belvaille. But the pit in my gut told me how and why Zadeck stayed above the fray and how this block was as secure as just about any place in the Colmarian Confederation.

It was true there was no Colmarian on Belvaille I was afraid of. However, one non-Colmarian did frighten me, and that was Zadeck’s bodyguard, Wallow.

Wallow was a native of Thereze. One of about a thousand who were allowed off their home planet. A galactic-wide war almost erupted when their species was first discovered.

Therezians were undyingly loyal. They weren’t stupid, but they were just faithful for reasons no one could quite fathom. Once they attached themselves to someone, they stayed with them until death, doing nearly whatever was requested.

And since even a short Therezian was still over thirty-five feet tall and resistant to anything short of snorting a black hole, their service was pretty noticeable. All the major empires agreed that Thereze would be one of the few truly neutral planets with no emigration allowed, other than the handful that had already left. Because no one relished the idea of Therezian conscripts marching into battle.

Zadeck acquired Wallow, no one knows how. It was the unlikeliest of arrangements having a Therezian on such a backwater space station as Belvaille. Wallow could literally, I mean literally, be a king on some planet. He was one of a thousand in the known galaxy.

Zadeck had absolute power—within reach of Wallow’s considerable arm. Though for all Wallow’s glory, it had been made absolutely clear to Zadeck by all the bosses and even Garm: you can keep your block of fancy stores, we’ll stay out of it. However, if Wallow steps foot into our turf, while we might not be able to hurt him, we’ll kill you.

Wallow waited outside of Zadeck’s pad, the very building I had to enter. Great. He often patrolled the block, the aristocracy of Belvaille relishing the protection of his shadow. Yet they weren’t so haughty they didn’t get out of his way lest they get squashed under his Therezian feet.

I approached the gilded door. A hand about the size of me touched down, blocking my path. It possessed only three long fingers with no digits.

“What you want?” the voice above me boomed.

Therezians didn’t have many bones, the joints being weak points for their ponderous weight. They had no noticeable necks and I heard they only had five vertebrae. Their brows and cheekbones and chins protruded, presumably because they fell on their faces a lot and it was protection, but it made them look like they were always scowling. Their clumsy hands prevented them from being exactly great toolmakers. Other than that, however, they looked like an average Colmarian blown up to extreme proportions.

The ritzy citizens of Belvaille calmly moved as quickly as they could away from us.

“I’m here to see Zadeck. He told me to come.”

“Who are you?” Wallow asked.

He had bent down, his face a “mere” twenty feet away now. I knew Wallow. He knew me. But I also knew he didn’t like me.

Therezians were a gentle race. But there are jerks in any species. Wallow would likely be the equivalent of a homicidal maniac among Therezians. Which just meant he had a bad attitude by Colmarian standards. If you gave me fifty years and infinite pickaxes, I doubt I could even break Wallow’s skin, which is why it not only frightened me but confused me why he gave me such a hard time.

“Wallow, it’s me, Hank. I just did a job for your boss.”

Wallow squinted, and he crouched closer as if doing so might make our conversation private instead of being audible to anyone within three blocks, which it was.

“Boss don’t need you, he has me. You watch your step.”

I briefly thought it was ironic him telling me to watch my step. But I merely nodded and went inside the door after Wallow had straightened.

Inside it looked like a palace. Every surface was covered in rare metals and jewels that reflected the light so much it hurt your eyes. Servants were deployed polishing and buffing, and they were as much a decoration and sign of wealth as the items they worked on.

I made myself known to the security guards. The two types of people I dealt with were the bosses, because they gave me jobs, and the hoodlums, because they were the job. Anyone with a gun was a potential buddy as I saw it.