Steven Campbell - Suck My Cosmos

Only the most basic of intership travel was allowed and the Central Authority gunboats escorted you the entire way.

Wild speculation floated around that Belvaille was destroyed and that the Central Authority was trying to hide it. Not many people officially knew the Governor had been killed, but it was one of the rumors.

I ate a lot of food and did a lot of sleeping.

Garm tried to keep me hidden, but that’s not easy when you’re on a ship with just 350 beds.

It was about the end of the first week when the Central Authority showed up.

“Your presence is requested on Belvaille!” The officer yelled. I got the idea he had been yelling at me for quite some time because the other officers looked bored and were lounging around my room.

“I’m really sleepy,” I said. “I just saved the universe or something. Again.”

“We were instructed to secure you by any means necessary,” he threatened.

I chuckled.

“I won’t stop you,” I smiled.

An hour later, six C.O.’s were cursing and straining trying to carry me down the hallway. I wasn’t struggling. I was just trying to relax, which wasn’t very easy when a bunch of burly guards were manhandling my broken bones.

Finally they gave up. They hooked a winch up from the dock and dragged me across the whole damn ship.

In the shuttle ride back, I didn’t have a window view so I couldn’t see what was going on in space. I figured they were going to take me to some impromptu trial and execute me.

If they asked me to speak, I wasn’t sure what to say.

Something cool.

I could say the suckface thing, but I suspected I would be slumped over in a wheelchair, bandaged head-to-foot, and it simply wouldn’t have much impact other than being pathetic.

I woke up in Belvaille. At least the city was still here.

I was indeed being pushed in a heavy duty wheelchair by a lot of straining Central Officers. I kind of felt like Delovoa’s gut cart. I probably resembled it, too.

Looking around I didn’t see much damage at all. Then I realized the skyline was about half the size it used to be. A huge number of the taller structures had been severely damaged or even collapsed.

We crossed paths with some of the downed buildings just splayed across the city like the arms of a sleeping giant.

But City Hall was still there. It might have been my vision or my wheelchair or something else, but it did look like the massive building was tilting slightly.

There were wall-to-wall guards in the structure and plenty of downcast citizens. I didn’t bother checking all the heraldry because I didn’t care and figured it didn’t matter.

I waited in the corridor that led to the City Council chambers and fell asleep again.

When I was finally pushed into the audience floor, I wasn’t alone.

There were thirty or so people with me and I was right, it looked like a series of trials.

The room had changed somewhat. Not only was Education’s section empty, but so was Manufacturing, and Trade. There was just Housing, and Food, and the Governor’s chair.

Sitting at the Governor’s seat was Maris-To, dressed not in a suit, but regal furs of green and gold. On that majestic head of hair sat an enormous jeweled crown.

They dragged out a poor old man in the center of the room and began reading off crime after crime. It took me a moment to realize that they were charging Gaktus, the former Manufacturing City Councilman.

It went on for several hours with various prosecutors and “witnesses” supplying outrageous evidence.

Gaktus was sentenced to death and taken away. This did not bode well for me, or anyone in this room, that they could dispatch such a powerful individual.

The whole time Maris-To didn’t speak or move in any way.

Several dozen more people were processed after that with similar resolutions. I was provided food and water and got a bit more sleep. It’s not that I wasn’t afraid, I was just numb.

It was pretty grimy down here at this point. People were injured and tired. These trials had apparently been going on for days.

Nearly everyone was given an extreme punishment.

My turn finally came and they had to wake me up.

“Hank of Belvaille?” the prosecutor asked.

“Yeah?” I coughed.

At this he motioned to the side and into the room was brought Garm, Malla, MTB, Delovoa, Cliston, and about a dozen other people I knew less well. They weren’t shackled, but they clearly weren’t free. Garm and Malla looked casual, MTB defiant, Delovoa scared, and Cliston was Cliston.

“His High Mightiness, Arch Minister, Lord Superior of Belvaille…officially thanks you for your recent activities and, further, would like to offer you the title of Special Factotum,” the prosecutor said.

At this, Maris-To leaned forward to look at me with interest.

Well, at least Belvaille had finally learned to get some decent titles in its government. A good superlative or two could go a long way.

I was dumb, but I wasn’t that dumb. I knew what this was.

He had trotted out my friends and acquaintances as a threat.

If I didn’t go along with this game, he would get them to testify against me, or me against them, or just kill us all. He wanted to see if I was going to rat on him and say what a big jerk he was for murdering the Governor and everything else he did, like trying to steal a dreadnaught and thus causing half the city to get flattened.

The first rule of serious, life-or-death negotiating I ever learned was: stall. Even if it was for an hour, in that hour you could often scrape something together more permanent.

I was in a wheelchair surrounded by a city full of guards and being stared at by the new king who had murdered a level-eight mutant and anyone else that had dared stand in his way.

This was life-or-death not only for me, but my friends.

With great difficulty, I rose from the wheelchair, standing on my broken feet.

I then got down on one knee.

“I gladly accept this title and hope I can continue to serve Belvaille for many years to come,” I said.

I kept my eyes down and shoulders slumped. I held the pose for quite a while until I heard footsteps coming toward me.

I thought of how I would respond if I was attacked, but I couldn’t even rise from my knees if I wanted to.

A small box was held out to me.

I opened it, not sure what to expect. It contained a metal badge. It was a silver circle with a gold fist in the foreground, the knuckles forward. The fist was larger than the circle and overlapped. It was basically the neon sign on my front door I used to advertise Hank Services Limited.

It was also, apparently, my new heraldry.

I looked up and Maris-To had resumed his impassive demeanor.

Some guards helped me back into my wheelchair and the prosecutor went on with the next cases.

My silence had been purchased for a cheap medallion and my life.

But, you know, I could work with that.

The novel is over. Really. It’s done. Novels are quite a task, even goofy ones like this.

If you purchased this, I sincerely thank you. If you read or listened this far, presumably you liked it, or you’re a masochist, or you’re studying the effects of bad writing on the human (or otherwise) consciousness.

Whatever your motive, I respectfully ask that you purchase it if you haven’t already. Then I’ll be able to produce more work which you hopefully find valuable.

Thanks again.

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