Hard Luck Hank Screw the Galaxy(23)

“Hank, get up,” she was saying.

I somehow managed to climb to my feet and I took in what was going on.

There were soldiers lying on the ground. Two were firing from the doorways of buildings. The robot hadn’t moved. Or at least not very far, I couldn’t be sure where we had started at this point.

The Dredel Led looked over at one of the soldiers. It then used its legs to brace itself and raised its right arm, which most definitely had some kind of barrel on the side of it. It fired what I presume it had shot at me. A white blob of light sped out and exploded in the doorway. The impact was enough that I was sure the soldier was either gravely injured or dead.

The cannon itself had a recoil and exhaust only a robot could withstand. You’d never put a weapon like that in the hands of something biological, it would kill you trying to wield it.

The robot then twisted itself and fired at the last soldier, hitting the wall in front of where he’d been hiding.

And then the Dredel Led began walking towards Garm and me.

Garm fired with her pistol, the gun booming with each shot, but other than some dull pangs from the impacts, it had no effect.

My brain was still trying to get in gear after being slammed against the side of my cranium. I was standing there dazed as the robot moved closer. I saw the soldiers had shot off much of the ugly prosthetics that had once been its body, revealing a bright silver material underneath.

Dumbly. Out of habit, if nothing else, I reached into my jacket, found my Ontakian pistol was still there, pulled it out, and powered it on. I was going to blow myself up before I let this robot do it.

And whoosh. He took off into the sky.

I looked up, waiting for him to land behind me. Or land on me. But I could see his contrail streaking off into the distance where the darkness swallowed it.

“Huh?” I said astutely.

“See? They’re scared of that gun,” Garm said. Then she ran off to check on her men.

I stared at my pistol. I was too numb from adrenaline to feel its hum vibrating my innards, but its piercing green glow felt like a gentle fireplace providing shelter.



Garm was communicating with her base and I was looking around for a good place to take a nap when she rushed over.

“We got a bead on it. A building a mile from here was accessed and nothing has come out. It’s in the direction that thing flew. Let’s go.”

“What?” I looked around at the carnage. I couldn’t believe she wanted to repeat this, except with fewer people.

“We have the upper hand now, Hank.”

“How so?”

I could see she was exasperated at my slowness.

“It ran from your pistol. It’s afraid of it. So that means you can kill it.”

“Or. It ran because it was bored. Or because it knew my pistol would explode if I fired it. Which is what happened when anyone else tried to use Ontakian guns.”

“How do you know? Were you some Ontakian weapon scientist before you came to Belvaille?”

“No. I-I heard it somewhere,” I said unconvincingly.

“Come on!” she yelled, pulling my arm.

I was far too heavy to be pushed or pulled around, but I allowed myself to be taken to the car. Two soldiers were injured, unable to help us. The two on the ground were dead.

Before I got into the car, I threw up. I paused a moment looking down at my sick. There were my rations mixed with blood. Now I was hungry again.

Putting me in the car was probably a bad idea. I was comfortable. My head immediately drooped to my chest and I was 100% ready to go to sleep.

Garm kept berating me and hitting me and otherwise being an effective alarm clock.

After a very short ride we stopped.

“This is it. Building on the right. Third floor. Number seven,” she said.

We got out of the vehicle and my body was unbelievably stiff. Like premature rigor mortis had set in.

I scuffled my way to the building, Garm’s hand on the middle of my back, pushing. I took out my pistol but didn’t turn it on. I wasn’t sure where my shotgun was, not that it mattered.

Without thinking, I emptied my four other shotgun shells onto the floor as we entered the building, since I didn’t need them. They made a bit of clacking and Garm shushed me. Not sure why I dropped them, but I probably had at least a mild concussion.

I really, unbelievably, wanted to take the elevator, but Garm made me use the stairs. I think she regretted it about a half flight up, when I had to put away my pistol and drag myself up by the railing.

My body was trying to shut down, the adrenaline long gone. Also, my heightened regeneration takes energy. It’s like when you have an illness that puts you in bed so you can devote all your resources to fighting what’s ailing you.

My mouth hung open and I was gulping in air as we reached the top of the first flight. Garm relented and we took the elevator to the 3rd floor. It gave me a chance to catch my breath and I took my pistol back out as I leaned against the wall.