Steven Campbell - Hard Luck Hank - Screw the Galaxy

I put on my best gambler face and seemed to ponder.

“I’ll tell you what, if you pull out of here, and engage the Dredel Led for your planets, we won’t trade any delfiblinium with any other empires.”

I was negotiating to not trade something I didn’t have. I thought I was the smartest guy in the galaxy until:

“We will trade for all of your output,” the Prince said. “We will not cross into your territory, though we make no provisions or restrictions about engaging the Dredel Led or any other race.”

I stood there thinking that over even though there was nothing to think about.

“Sure,” I coughed.

Neither of us spoke for what seemed like minutes. Was he waiting for a handshake, because I didn’t see any hands?

“Nice meeting you, your Excellency, Hank the Boss,” he said. And the whole of the Prince stopped moving momentarily, and then started revolving again, but slower. He displaced so much air I actually felt a breeze.

“Nice meeting you,” and I realized I had completely forgotten his name, “the most amazing ruler of the most amazing race of the Boranjame.” I sought to hide my blunder with a bit of flattery. “May you rule for ten thousand years,” I proclaimed, bowing low. I had no idea how long they lived. I hoped that wasn’t an insult.

“And may you not be betrayed and murdered by your best friend. Unloved, your corpse deserted in the coldness of space, where memory of you would swiftly become less substantial than the faded light of a long-dead star,” the Prince replied.

That was awful specific. I had the idea that the Prince knew something he wasn’t telling me, but I was too frightened to ask.

“Thanks,” I managed to squeak.

“Garm. Garm. You there?”

After long moments she finally answered.

“Hank? What’s going on?” Even on the tele screen I could see her panic.

“Hey, can someone pick me up? They dropped me off here.”

“To the world-ship?” she asked, stunned.

“No, they’re leaving. I’m in a shuttle. I’ll transmit the coordinates. I can explain when you guys get here.”

My pick-up was relatively uneventful thanks to the excellent spacesuit and shuttle the Boranjame had provided. I couldn’t fly the ship, as it was designed for Po, but it kept me protected.

I did not see the world-ship leave as I was facing the wrong way, but I felt its gravitational tug get weaker and weaker, and then it must have finally engaged its a-drive and blipped away to go hassle some other unfortunate species.

Garm and company used a cargo ship and towed my shuttle back home, it being too difficult to attempt a transfer in space.

I had mentally prepared myself for death when I originally set out to the world-ship. But with that past and the space station Belvaille looming into view, I admit I cried with joy. It was an unbelievable weight off my shoulders. I was coming home.

The dock was empty except for Garm. She didn’t want to start a general panic on people seeing me return whole from my assignment.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Give me a second,” I said, as I tried to take off my spacesuit. I didn’t have the many hands of the Po to assist me. There must have been twenty buckles on the vest alone.

Garm was clearly desperate for answers and she saw some of my belongings and picked them up.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A contract with the Boranjame.”

Garm’s eyes went wide as she scanned it.

“Cool, huh? By the way,” I said, looking around to make sure no one overheard, “you need to contact whoever you need to contact and get them to put all our resources into delfiblinium processing.”

“What? Why?” Garm asked.

“That’s what the Boranjame want. It’s either that or 300 planets. I figure we got a good deal.”

“Delfiblinium?” she asked, dazed.

“I didn’t exactly have a lot to trade.”

“You didn’t blow them up?” she asked.

I threw my arms wide, showing the obvious answer.

“What? You sound upset I’m still here. The Boranjame are gone. Our civilization isn’t in ruins. I thought I did pretty well.”

Garm seemed to suddenly snap-to.

“So we’re safe?” Garm asked, still unsure.

“As safe as Belvaille ever gets,” I replied.

She looked at the contract again.

“What’s the ‘good and valuable services’ part of the deal they owe us?”

I held out a small round device in my palm.

“This,” I said, smiling.

“What is it?”

I clicked it on and the face of the Ontakian artifact glowed brilliant blue. It rumbled a deep organ in your chest that medical technicians probably had a name for.

“I’m going to make a necklace out of it,” I stated, holding up my bartered item with glee. I bet those Ontakians would be upset to know the Boranjame gave it to me.

“You and your toys. Doesn’t that hurt?” she asked, disapproving.

I clicked it off.

“Yes, but it lets me know I’m alive.”

I then took Garm in my arms, dipped her back like the cover of some cheesy romance story, and kissed her as passionately as I knew how. When we broke apart, Garm smiled and then laughed.

“Wow,” she began, “you haven’t kissed anyone in a while, have you?”

As I was preparing excuses for my romantic deficiencies, Garm put her hands behind my head and kissed me on the lips as it was meant to be done.

Yes, indeed. Good to be alive.

Cover Art by Tariq Raheem

Back Art by Revo Yanson

http://www.belvaille.com

All images and content Copyright © 2013 Steven Campbell

All rights reserved.