Hard Luck Hank: Screw the Galaxy (20 page)

I got an urgent tele from Delovoa as I was at
the Belvaille Gentleman’s Club watching the Ginland glocken sports team lose
for like the one billionth time. Foolishly I answered my tele.

“It’s following me now,” he whispered in a
manic tone.

I hung up.

There could be only one thing he was talking
about, and it was a little bit more than my brain could handle. I sipped my
drink, people nearby were talking at me, but I couldn’t concentrate.

I got up and hit the train. I completely
ignored about a dozen people trying to start conversations. I checked and rechecked
my shotgun, though I didn’t suspect it would be of much use. I powered on my
Ontakian pistol and hoped it had at least one more shot in it. People stopped
trying to talk to me at about this time.

I paused outside Delovoa’s. Did I really want
to be facing off against another Dredel Led so early? Shouldn’t I notify Garm?

I buzzed the door and waited.

“Come in, Hank,” came a distant yell.

I threw open the door.

Inside was a terrified Delovoa pressed against
the wall. Next to him, in the doorway to the adjacent room, was ZR3.

Wow, was it big.

I gingerly stepped inside, regretting my
decision to come here immediately.

The sight of ZR3 so close, having obviously
moved on its own power, was enough to stun me. It could barely fit in the
hallway, and Delovoa’s home was custom-built for moving large objects with
autolifters.

I kept still. I didn’t say anything. I think I
was waiting for ZR3. But it was as impassive as ever.

“So,” I said quietly to Delovoa. “You’ve got a
robot in your living room.”

“It’s following me around,” Delovoa whispered
back. He was still pressed flat against the wall. He looked like he hadn’t
slept in a while, three bags under his three eyes.

“Why would it do that?”

Delovoa shrugged. “I might have issued it a
command,” Delovoa said, “without knowing it.”

“Might?”

“I-I was talking to it.”

I felt my anger rise, but nothing can keep the
old blood pressure down more than a Dredel Led standing ten feet away.

“Why were you talking to it?” I asked as calmly
as possible.

“Because it had answered to its name. I
wondered if it could answer other questions.”

“Did it?” I asked.

“No. But when I went to leave the basement it
walked after me.”

I felt myself perspiring but didn’t want to
make any sudden moves, so I just let the sweat drip down my face.

“Have you tried asking it to stop?”

“Yes.”

“Did it work?”

“What do you think?” Delovoa nudged his head
towards the Dredel Led.

I thought he was in no place to be getting
smart.

“What exactly do you want me to do, Delovoa?”

“You trashed two of them.”

He wanted me to fight it? He was nuts.

“That ain’t going to happen. Try and take it
back into the basement,” I said.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“How did you get it up here?”

“I walked.”

“Well…”

“It’s blocking the door.”

It’s true, it was.

“Back into your kitchen,” I said.

Delovoa gingerly slid along the wall and around
the corner. ZR3 did not move and then suddenly,
BOOM!

It took a huge step forward, swinging its arms
and bending its knees to maintain balance. Its weight was so colossal I could
actually feel it vibrating the metal house. It twisted its torso, which could
pivot independently, then took another step. Then evened its legs and stood
straight.

It was now about five feet away from me, but
was facing Delovoa so its side was to me.

We did not speak or move for some time.

“It wasn’t that heavy when I moved it in here,”
Delovoa finally said.

I was extremely uncomfortable speaking while it
was standing so close. It had actually moved with some speed considering its
size and weight. Faster than me. If it reached out that column of an arm, it
could smash me against the wall like a bug.

I took some deep breaths, directing my exhales
away from the robot.

“You’re saying it gained weight while it was
under that sheet?”

“I moved it in by myself when I bought it,”
Delovoa said. “I supposed it was mostly hollow for it to be that light.”

That didn’t make any sense. How could a Dredel
Led get fatter? Was it eating on the sly?

“Walk around it,” I said.

“You walk around it.”

“We have to get it to the basement.”

Delovoa did not seem interested. Then I
realized to my horror:

“Hey, us talking might accidentally give it
more commands.”

Delovoa’s three eyes popped wide and he bit his
lip. But then he got an idea.

“Tell it to follow you,” he said.

I shook my head. Nice try.

“No one is going to care if a Dredel Led is
following you,” he reasoned. “They’ll just figure you beat it up.”

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?”

“Yeah.”

“How in the million suns did you get that
much?” she asked.

“I have a source,” I said.

“No. No,” she repeated, standing. “You’re going
to tell me where you got it, where it is now, and who I need to have killed.
Wait, does this have anything to do with everyone passing out?”

I thought about this.

“It does!” Garm began looking around and I was
sure she was searching for her gun.

“Wait, that’s not the really bad news,” I
interrupted.

Garm looked truly frightened and stood up
straight, as if awaiting her execution.

“There’s…a Dredel Led still on Belvaille.”

Garm’s eyes darted around as she processed
this, like it might be hiding underneath one of her golden tables.

“Delovoa kind of owns it. It’s in his basement.
It was deactivated, but it somehow got turned on and now it follows him
around.”

Garm was about to say something. Her lips
formed and unformed multiple times.

“I guess he bought it years ago and it was
inoperable,” I continued. “Then we were in his basement and it started talking.
It hasn’t—it doesn’t seem violent. But it’s really large and I doubt we can
damage it.”

Garm took a seat again and put her head in her
hands. I waited, hoping she wouldn’t be too mad and might have some advice on
how to proceed.

Then I heard an odd sound. I looked back and
Garm…Garm was crying.

Garm. Crying.

I didn’t know what to do. It was like my
reality was unraveling. Garm was unbeatable. Unflappable. And here she was,
right in front of me, crying.

“W-What are you doing?” I asked dumbly.

She looked up and her face was red and tears
were streaming down like two angry, feminine rivers.

“We are this close. THIS close to having the
military just kill us all. Just wipe us away. And I’m doing everything I can,
everything I possibly can to prevent that. And you tell me you just happen to
have a damn continent’s worth of the rarest, most destructive substance in the
galaxy. And we also happen to have an affable Dredel Led hanging out in
someone’s basement.”

It did sound kind of lousy like that. But I was
shocked into silence by Garm’s tears.

“What do you want me to do, Hank? Eat the
delfiblinium? Maybe flush it down the toilet? That’s probably why they haven’t
come through yet. They’re waiting for Belvaille to explode.”

“I was thinking maybe we could put it in a
rocket and launch it from a ship before the Navy gets here,” I suggested.

“Oh, yeah. No one will notice that. We launch
missiles all the time on our space station. And Delovoa bought a Dredel Led?
He’s dumber than you are.”

I agreed with her there.

“What should we do?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered angrily. “Killing
Delovoa would be a good place to start.”

“I’m not sure how the robot will react,” I
replied.

“What, is it like nipping at his heels? Like a
pet?” she asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, pretty much. Though it’s also knocking
apart his walls as it moves around.”

Garm soaked that in.

“Why did this have to happen now? Where did you
get the metal, Hank?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell,” I said.

Garm was calm. I think because she was spent.
Her eyelids looked heavy.

“I don’t care what you promised. I’m about
ready to throw you out the airlock.”

“That wouldn’t get rid of the metal or the
Dredel Led,” I answered. “And you said the Navy wanted to talk to me
personally.”

She smirked at me calling her bluff.

“Can your pistol destroy the robot?”

“It’s really big. Much bigger than the others.
Delovoa said he had used every tool he had to try and open it up and nothing
worked. So I’m not sure. I don’t even know if my pistol still shoots.”

“That’s great,” Garm said. “I’d say use the
delfiblinium on the robot, but that would kill everyone here. Two hundred
pounds?”

Garm put her head in her hands again and I
prayed she wasn’t going to cry.

“What, are you a drug dealer now?” she asked
absently, pointing to the drugs Grever Treest had given me. I had been carrying
them around for when I eventually went to talk to Jyonal.

“No, it’s just…” Hey. Jyonal could get rid of
that Dredel Led. What was I thinking? I was friends with a level-ten mutant. He
could probably turn that robot into a large trash can with just a few drinks.
“Never mind,” I said, “I think I might have an idea for the Dredel Led.”

Garm looked at me with dead eyes.

“And what is your idea?”

I went to the door.

“I’ll take care of it. Should I bring over the
delfiblinium?”

“No, you shouldn’t bring over the
delfiblinium,” she answered tersely. “What’s your idea?”

I was out the door. Garm, who can probably
crawl faster than I can run, was right behind me.

“Guards, stop him,” she said.

I looked at the two guards, who were sitting
down playing cards. They looked back at Garm.

“Uh,” one of them said.

“Don’t worry about it, Garm. Trust me.”