Hard Luck Hank: Basketful of Crap (15 page)

I exited Delovoa’s place and a
little girl who had obviously been waiting for me across the street, skipped up
and held out her hand, holding a note.

“Where the hell are all you kids
coming from?” I said, looking around.

She stood there silently until I
took the paper. Then she ran off.

The note said: “If you had bothered
to at least work a little on the code it would have instructed you to meet me
at the Ulzaker-Ses club, 3
^rd
floor, today at 9pm.”

I checked my tele. It was already
past 9pm, but I didn’t feel like having another deluge of little children
assault me with notes and codes, so I headed to the club that had been the recent
site of carnage.

The fire had destroyed the club’s
interior, leaving indistinguishable charred piles everywhere.

I stepped delicately through the
refuse. I didn’t want to disturb any bodies, not from squeamishness, just from
a sense of propriety. My feet were going to be black with soot after this.

It was also quite dark as the
firebombs had melted any lighting that existed. Only the street illumination
that came in from the windows made anything visible.

I walked around for maybe fifteen
minutes, but saw nothing code-worthy.

“Come upstairs,” a voice called
down to me. The voice was clearly modulated, disguised via some electronic means.
I could tell it was masculine, however.

Things were starting to become at
least slightly more intriguing. I made sure my autocannon was prepared. I
loaded a canister shell, recalling the havoc it had caused when discharged into
this very club.

Upstairs I walked into the main
room when I heard:

“Stop!” The voice said. I could not
see who said it, as it came from deeper into the room where it was very dark.

“I’m here, what do you want?”

“There is something very wrong with
Belvaille,” the voice said.

“That’s a pretty broad statement.
Also pretty self-evident.”

“Have you wondered how all these
tanks and weapons reach Belvaille when they have to travel through the Jam?”

“They’re disassembled, I assume.”

“Really? And you think Navy
scanners are so feeble they can’t tell a tank that has been taken apart? If all
you needed was a screwdriver to bypass their blockade, there would be no need
for a place such as Belvaille which can ship illegal goods legally.”

“Fine. So how are they getting
here? Are they manufactured?”

“There are no forges here. Even you
have to know that.”

“So what then?” I asked.

“Are you familiar with the way
Portals work?”

“Sure. Ships use them to travel to
other Portals.”

“But how do they work?”

“Technically? I haven’t a clue.”

“You know you can only put Portals
in certain regions of space. And every Portal sits in one of those areas. Have
you heard of that?”

“Yeah. It’s called like the ‘Portal
diameter,’ right?”

“No, it’s called nothing like
that,” the voice said testily.

“Well, you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean because I
brought up the subject.”

“Alright. Go on.”

“All these ships attached to
Belvaille have engines.”

“Ships usually do.”

“Those freighters have pulled
Belvaille, and themselves, to be in the region of space capable of using
Portals.”

“Belvaille has moved? How didn’t
anyone notice that?”

“Who said they haven’t? And it’s
not like they did it fast.”

“Why would they do it, though?” I
asked.

“What would we gain by being in the
depression?”

“I guess we’d save on fuel costs
for ships coming into and out of the Portals, since we’d be a little bit
closer.”

“But why be in the actual
depression? What value is there?”

There was silence as I thought.

“We can see ships coming out?”

“What? Why does that matter?” the
voice asked, annoyed.

“I said fuel. Um.”

“Think. Why are the three Portals
where they’re at?”

“So the Navy can protect them?

The modulated voice took a deep
sigh.

“The Navy can protect wherever the
Portals are. But why are those Portals sitting in space where they are?”

“I guess…so if a ship comes out of
one it doesn’t run into another? Actually, I don’t know. I don’t know where the
Portals are.”

“Of course you do!”

“How do you know? I’ve never seen
the Portals! They could be big pieces of candy sprinkled with fairy dust for
all I know.”

“But you know where they’re at, you
already said so!”

“When? In my sleep? When did I give
you the coordinates for the Portals? I only know they exist because people tell
me they do. It could all be a really elaborate practical joke.”

“No, you said the Portal diameter,”
the voice argued.

“And you said that wasn’t the right
term.”

“Okay, but pretend it is. So where
are the Portals?”

“How should I know! I’m not a ship
captain!”

“They’re in the Portal diameter,
you idiot!”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, sure. I
thought you meant something else.”

“So what does Belvaille gain by
being in the Portal diameter?”

“Like I said, fuel savings?”

“Rings of Noeln! Hank, if you
didn’t have your mutation you would have died a hundred years ago. You have to be
the dumbest person on the station.”

“I’m sorry, Rendrae—I mean
mysterious stranger—but I don’t know what you’re getting at.” This was clearly
Rendrae. I have no idea why he was trying to be secretive, but he loved this
kind of nonsense.

“A Portal!”

“What about it?”

“All these attached freighters,
Belvaille itself, they have Portals in them.”

I was quiet for a long while.

“That’s stupid,” I said finally.

“Why? They can bypass the Jam.”

“You’re talking about putting a
Portal in a building? That’s impossible.”

“How do you know? You said yourself
you don’t know how they work.”

“I know they need ships to navigate
them and I know anyone near one will get turned inside-out. You can’t even put animals
in cargo holds or they’ll get killed going through a Portal. Besides, how are
you going to use it, throw something from the other side?”

“You can guide them through.”

“Guide? How? Stand there by an open
Portal pulling on it? You’d die. Not to mention whatever you were trying to
pull.”

“You could survive it, Hank,” Rendrae
said.

“Why would I want to?”

“So you could use the Portal!”

“We already have Portals.”

“But those are the Navy’s!” Rendrae
yelled, his voice scrambler screeching in protest.

“Do you have any idea how much a
Portal costs? There’s a reason only the central government creates them. Not
even states own Portals.”

“We have corporations on this
station that are wealthier than any state. Do you really think money is a
problem for them?”

“No. But I think there’s no reason
to have an independent Portal in a building.”

“What would they gain by having
Portals they could use at any time, not controlled by the Navy?”

“Um, the ability to turn anyone who
activated them inside-out?”

“Shut up with that! You could
survive.”

“Okay, sure. I could survive. But
I’m not using them. I’ve never been asked to use them.”

“But who here is resistant like
you?”

“Wallow,” I said, after a moment.

“Wallow,” Rendrae said flatly. “You
think Wallow is like you?”

“Yeah.”

“You think when you stand next to a
forty-foot Therezian people are like, ‘Gee, I can’t tell which one is Hank and
which one is Wallow.’”

“You asked who is resistant like
me. He definitely is.”

“But to use the Portal equipment
you have to operate controls. What possible controls could Wallow use? He’d smash
them. He’s far too big.”

“I don’t know.”

“They’re sitting on your front
steps!”

I was totally taken by surprise.
But not because I agreed, because I thought it was ridiculous.

“Gandrine? Have you ever seen them?
I don’t even think they have hands.”

“They’re a space-faring species the
same as we are. They can fly ships and understand advanced technology.”

“They’re really, unbelievably
slow.”

“That doesn’t mean they can’t use
computer controls,” Rendrae said.

“They never leave my porch. I wish
they did.”

“Never? You have watched them every
second of every day?” Rendrae asked sarcastically.

“No, of course not. But why would
the Gandrine want to use Portals created by the corporations?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“And I can’t possibly imagine the
corporations will save enough money to cover the costs of construction. Not in
a million years. The Navy fees are high, but they aren’t that high,” I said.

“I agree completely. So then ask
yourself, why are they doing it?”

The next day I left my autocannon
in my apartment and headed out. I was acutely aware the Gandrine weren’t on my
steps. Were they off using a Portal somewhere? If so, to what purpose?

On the train to Zadeck Street I had
a growing pit in my stomach. I didn’t go into the corporate areas, because I
wasn’t corporate. But I wasn’t exactly afraid of them.

There were two streets that did
frighten me.

One was a block that no one was
allowed to use. Not even the corporations. It had nothing on it except a huge
metal bubble constructed by a level-ten mutant who had long since left the
station. There were permanent roadblocks at either end restricting access.

The other was Zadeck Street.

It was the most posh, wealthy
avenue in all of Belvaille. It comprised three blocks of absolute ritzy
splendor. The best shops were there. The best restaurants. Fine hotels the
truly affluent stayed in for years at a time.

Unlike the drab rest of the
station, every inch of every sidewalk was decorated. There was statuary and
fountains and murals.

The wealthy paraded down the street
like haughty birds displaying their plumage. In a city full of criminals and
scum, this street existed because of one creature: Wallow.

Wallow the Therezian ensured there
was no crime on the street. Despite his vast size, he could run from one end to
the other in seconds—and without even stepping on anyone.

He was one of the greatest security
guards in the entire galaxy and he was somehow on our space station. No one
knows the circumstances of how he came here or came to work for Zadeck. It was
exceedingly odd.

Whatever gang wars went on in the
station, nothing touched Zadeck’s blocks. Because nothing could touch Wallow.

Unfortunately, Wallow didn’t like
me much.

I had never been able to figure out
why. I was a pleasant enough person, I thought. But it didn’t seem to matter. He
had taken a dislike to me and made it known.

I inched my way down Zadeck Street
with sweat pouring down my spine.

I felt a gust of wind and looked
over to see Wallow standing next to me, squinting down.

He looked like a relatively “normal”
Colmarian, just exploded to enormous size and his face had lots of ridges and bony
surfaces. His enormous hands had only three fingers and no joints, which alone
had prevented the Therezian species from ever becoming advanced.

Though when you had no need of
anything and were impervious to everything you weren’t required to become
master inventers. Necessity had left them altogether alone.

“Hi, Wallow,” I yelled up to him.

He stood there glaring at me. He
had an evil face.

All the fancy shoppers clogging the
streets practically tore their tendons racing to get away from us. It was well
known how much we disliked one another. Truthfully, though, they were getting
away from me. Whether I disliked Wallow or not was of little importance.

I continued walking, gently.

He watched me go and after I had
taken maybe a dozen steps, he took one, keeping even with me.

We continued to walk the length of
the street like this. It was very disconcerting of course. I was not used to
fear, but I knew full well that if he punched me, I was in for another hospital
visit. If he chose to punch me twice, which he had never bothered to do, I
would almost certainly die on the spot.

We came to the gilded door of
Zadeck’s headquarters.

The regular bouncers had seen
Wallow coming and walked clear away.

I reached out to open the door when
it stopped. Wallow had blocked it with his finger. A finger I could easily bear
hug.

The door was open enough that I
could probably squeeze in, but I thought about what would happen if I was
halfway and Wallow decided to press against the door.

I waited for Wallow to say
something. But he just crouched there, finger out.

“Wallow,” I yelled, “is it alright
for me to go inside?”

I smiled pleasantly.

“I’m unarmed,” I said, as if that
mattered.

“Who you?” his deep voice rumbled.

Wallow did not talk much. It was
frightening when he did. If any shoppers had been curiously observing the
situation from a distance, they made that distance much greater on hearing
Wallow speak.

“My name is Hank, Wallow,” I said.
I wasn’t sure why Wallow always did this. I couldn’t figure if it was his
version of a joke or he was just really mean.

“Hank who?” he asked. And I think
for the first time ever, I saw him smile. Because of his bone structure it
looked like he was sticking out his lower jaw and exposing his teeth.

“Hank of Hank Block.”

“Your street stupid!” He said, and
he jabbed his finger on the ground in front of me.

“Yes,” I agreed.

He stood up quickly, turned, and
began walking down the street. People fled in all directions to clear a path,
but he nimbly avoided them.

I was glad I hadn’t eaten or drank
anything before I came because I would have soiled myself after that encounter.

I entered the building and was
fairly dazzled.

Every surface, every crevice, was
covered in some form of gleaming precious metal or bauble. It was like a
thousand jewelry stores had exploded inside and splattered their contents
against the walls.

A band of some sort was playing and
there were dozens of rich people lounging around. Doing what, I could not tell.

What I thought was a very tall
woman approached me until I heard his deep voice.

“Hey, Hank. What you doing around
here?” he asked casually.

He was wearing a tall orange wig,
had vast amounts of exaggerated makeup, big hoop earrings, was dressed in a
long gown open at the chest which showed off his ample body hair, and he
carried a painted submachine gun over his shoulder like a purse.

“What?” I stared.

“It’s me, Yimm’dus,” he said.

“Man, what are you wearing?”

“Eh, it’s the uniform here. You get
used to it.”

“Why would you want to?” I asked.

“I made almost ten grand in tips
last week,” he said coolly.

“Oh. I can see that, then. Is
Zadeck here?”

“His office.”

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

“I think so, yeah. She’s around a
lot. She’s back there now with him I think.”

I stood up straighter. I wished I
had my autocannon now. But Wallow would have crushed me if he’d seen it.

“Is she about this tall?” I asked,
indicating with my hand. “And really thin?”

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

“And is she super muscular? Maybe
has silver hair.”

“I don’t know how muscular she is.
And her hair is blonde I think. Why you want to know?”

“Just curious. Hey, what is this
place, anyway? I can’t figure out what your customers are doing.”

“Heh, I been here a year and I
still haven’t figured it out,” he said.

“Anyway, can you take me to
Zadeck?”

“Sure, but he might not see you.
You know how he is.”

“Yeah.”

We walked along and I noticed
Yimm’dus was wearing high heels.

“What do you do if you have to
chase someone in those heels?” I asked.

“I’ve gotten pretty good with
them.”

I gave him a nudge with my shoulder
and he practically kicked me in the face he flipped over so fast and hit the
ground.

I died laughing, but tried to stop
when I saw how pissed Yimm’dus was. His dress was hiked to his knees.

“Hey! I have to pay for all these
clothes!” He said.

I helped him to his feet and was
still laughing but at a lower intensity.

“Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t know you
would go flying like that.”

“Walking in heels and getting shoved
in them are two different things. Why are you barefoot?”

“I can’t find anything I like. Your
wig is lopsided.”

He took a moment to straighten it.

“Besides,” he began, “internal
security is mostly just for show. We got Wallow outside and that’s pretty much
all we need. Who’s going to try and cause trouble here?”

“Good point.”

At the office, Yimm’dus went in and
I waited outside for the official word.

It was a long time coming and I
browsed through my tele messages while I waited.

Finally I was given leave to enter
as Yimm’dus took up his post outside the door.

Zadeck’s office was spacious and
mirrored the contents of the outside rooms, though he couldn’t help having a
desk, some chairs, scattered boxes, and other functional items.

Zadeck sat in a throne. Literally a
throne. It looked foolish. Since it was situated behind his desk it made him look
like the King of Clerks.

The man himself was thin and
androgynous, with powder makeup, and a tight black dress suit. He looked at me
with disdain.

There was also a woman in the room
who I was much more concerned with. She was fairly short, attractive, and had
long blonde hair. She stood directly across from the door instead of near
Zadeck, who was far to my left. She wore a dress that covered all her body and
any muscles she may or may not possess.

I stared at her the moment I came
in. I couldn’t tell if it was the pale sister.

“So. Why have you come to my
street, Hank?”

“Uh, so who’s this?” I asked
pleasantly. “Hello,” I said to her.

The woman smiled and waved, but did
not answer. Maybe her voice would signal her identity as well? But I wasn’t
sure I would recognize if it was similar to the other sisters.

Zadeck kept talking about something
or other but I ignored him. I was trying to prepare myself for fighting this
pale sister. I had no weapons at all. If she simply wanted to run away I
couldn’t dream of catching her.

While it wasn’t stated explicitly,
I was fairly certain the pale sisters wanted their triplet returned intact and alive.

But I still wasn’t sure if this was
her. Without the silver hair, and bikini, and pale skin, so much was different.
Garm was right, anyone, with the right body tone, could resemble them.

Zadeck kept rambling
self-importantly.

I walked over to the woman.

“What’s your name?” I asked,
holding out my hand to shake.

“Clo,” she answered, the one
syllable name not shedding tremendous light on her vocal patterns.

She took my hand in a girl
handshake, just using the tips of two fingers.

I could hear Zadeck’s voice growing
louder and more annoyed as no one paid him any attention. He was the kind of
guy who needed to be the center of every room.

But I didn’t care about him. My
interest was how I could identify this woman.

I thought for a moment.

Then I reached out my hands and
basically felt her up. She was very thin, but bony. When I took hold of her
arm, it was weak without any muscle tone at all.

This was not the pale sister.

She began screaming.

Yimm’dus opened the door, sticking
his head in.

“Shoot him!” Zadeck yelled,
pointing at me.

“Shoot Hank?” Yimm’dus questioned.
“Why?”

“Because I said so! Shoot him!”

“Sorry,” I said, holding my hands
in front of me as I turned to face Zadeck. “I was looking for someone. It was
an honest mistake.”

The woman was still screaming.

“You! Do as you’re told!” Zadeck
yelled.

Yimm’dus seemed torn, but he
shrugged.

“Sorry, Hank.” He aimed his gun-purse
and fired.

“Ow.” I said. “If I could ask you
about your last girlfriend, Zadeck…”

The woman was screaming even more
now that someone was shooting.

“Shoot him again!” Zadeck commanded.

“It’s not going to do anything,”
Yimm’dus tried to explain.

But he fired anyway.

“Ow. I’ll leave in just a moment.
Could you tell me where your last girlfriend might be?” I asked.

“Oh, you’ll see what happens when
you leave this building!” Zadeck laughed.

Hmm. I hadn’t really thought about
that. I walked over to Yimm’dus.

“Hey. Give me your gun,” I said.

“Hank,” he whispered desperately.
“I can’t do that.”

I gave him a shove and he tried to
take a step backwards, twisted his ankle, and fell down.

I walked over to him and took the
gun.

“Sorry,” I said.

I was in Zadeck’s office with a
gun. Zadeck no longer looked as confident and the woman was still screaming.

“You can stop that, miss. And sorry
for grabbing you. Zadeck, come with me.”

He hesitated. I fired the gun and
hit the wall next to him.

The woman, just to prove she was
capable, screamed even louder.

“Sorry,” I said to her again. “
Now
you can stop.”

Zadeck stepped from behind his desk
and I saw he was wearing what must have been eight inch heels.

“Take those off,” I said,
indicating his shoes. “Don’t you have any boots or flats?”

He walked carefully to the side of
his office, keeping his eyes on me and the gun, and opened a closet. There must
have been a hundred pairs of shoes inside.

“Pick something sensible for
walking.”

Yimm’dus had gotten to his feet and
was at a loss what to do.

Zadeck was changing shoes when I
leaned out of the office to talk to Yimm’dus.

“He’s going to be pissed if you
don’t sacrifice yourself trying to save him,” I whispered. “We can make a show
of it if you like. Just be quick about it.”

“Thanks,” he whispered back.

“You won’t get away with this!”
Yimm’dus yelled bombastically.

“Won’t I though?” I responded with
equally bad acting.

Zadeck was watching and even the
woman had stopped screeching.

“Zadeck doesn’t deserve your
mistreatment. He is the best boss in the galaxy,” Yimm’dus said, brownnosing
way too much.