Hard Luck Hank Screw the Galaxy(17)

“Hank, we have to do something.”

I looked down at my pistol and clicked on the power. There was that reassuring glow. That deep hum.

Garm stood close to me, her firm hand on my shoulder.

“Hank, this is real. You know me, I don’t care about a whole lot of things a whole lot. But Dredel Led haven’t been seen in Colmarian space in…I don’t know how long. This could be a real invasion for all we know. We’re Colmarians, damn it.”

I hated to admit it, but Garm was right. We all talked trash about our great society. It was an easy target, what with it sucking in just about every conceivable way. But I think under all the gruff, every Colmarian was fiercely nationalistic and ready to cause as much havoc as possible if it meant protecting our backwards, incompetent system.

“Alright,” I said. “This is probably better than a gang war, anyways.”





CHAPTER 8


Garm had mobilized her troops. I had never seen so many soldiers before, not even during the times we had riots. Everyone was as armed and armored as possible. However, I did not feel very safe as none of them looked even marginally confident.

I stood back a ways from Garm as she organized this army and issued orders. She really did know how to get stuff done. What they were going to do when they ran into a combat robot was anyone’s guess.

“Garm, you need to contact all the bosses. Tell them what’s up. There’s still a war brewing,” I said to her.

“You do that. They’ll take it a lot better from you. They’ll think I have ulterior motives.”

“I’ll make some calls,” I said, and left.

Garm hadn’t told me how much info I could or couldn’t give, but I figured I was going to have to tell the bosses something.

First, I teled Rendrae. I told him everything. Dredel Led. Twenty dead. He didn’t believe me for quite some time. Enough time that I began yelling at him, because I had a lot more folks to call and I couldn’t spend thirty minutes on each one. I enlisted his help to spread the word. I even told him to go to the check-in and look at the damage. He was an intrepid enough reporter I knew he would.

The bosses differed. You could see each individual’s personality shining through. Some were ready to commit their men to the effort and asked what assistance they could lend. Others were only into protecting their own interests. Still others simply thought I was lying. That I was on the take from someone and this was some convoluted master plan.

I didn’t talk too long to that last bunch. But what I did do was contact some of the guys who worked for them and passed along the word and told them to do the same. I sent out a broadcast tele to everyone I knew, which is quite a few people. I explained it as succinctly as possible and closed with the advice: stay inside, tele if you see anything.

I went back to Garm and saw most of the soldiers had dispersed. I watched her appreciatively. Takes a special kind of woman, or anyone for that matter, to be able to switch gears so quickly between crook and savior.

When she was done, she didn’t even look tired, and I was tired just having seen her.

“Before we go, Hank, I need you to understand what we’re facing.”

“Dredel Led,” I said gravely.

“Right, and you’re bulletproof. But look at this.” She dropped a heavy square of metal at my feet. It was bent and scorched.

“Do you think your skin is that thick?” she asked.

“As thick as that metal? No, of course not.”

“Well, that’s what those robots did to it. We removed that from the side of one of the buildings.”

“What’s your point?” I asked.

“Hank, you need to duck if you see those things.”

“Duck? Like what do you mean?”

Garm heaved a deep sigh. She then reached for the gun on her thigh, pulled it out, and aimed it at my face.

“See?” she said, alarmed.

“What?”

“You didn’t even flinch.”

“I know you’re not going to shoot me.”

She put the gun down.

“That doesn’t matter. If I did that to anyone else, they would at least move out of the way. You’ve spent your whole life not having to look both ways before crossing the street, or worrying about touching a plate that’s too hot. I don’t think you know how to protect yourself.”

I blinked a bit, then slowly squatted down.

“Like this? I mean, I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” I said.

“Hank, if you play this like you’re doing a street fight with some Belvaille thugs, they’ll shoot you with the”—she pointed to the injured metal on the ground—“gun that did that. And you’ll die. Then I’ll have to hire your replacement. And you’re one of the only contractors on Belvaille who even loosely understands the concept of hygiene.”