Hard Luck Hank Screw the Galaxy(82)

In a week, the city was firmly under martial law, with bunkers on every corner. If you wanted to walk to the train, you had your identification checked at least five times, as if you were going to get phony papers in the half block between when you got your ID last checked—I mean it was possible on Belvaille, but still pretty excessive.

They had not made any large-scale forays into the uninhabited areas of the city, but were slowly setting up living quarters in the northwest. They cordoned off that area so it was impossible to see what they were doing.

The hidden caches hadn’t been found yet and Delovoa was safe for the moment, but at this rate I wasn’t sure how long that would last. There were just so many troops.

The number of arrests had been escalating as well. What was more frightening was that no one knew where the arrestees were being held. There were whispers that they were simply being killed. The city didn’t have the jail facilities to hold the number of people being taken, and it seemed an awful hassle to be transferring them all back to military vessels.

Anyone who was anyone was in hiding—or hiding as much as they could in a space station saturated with police.

The clubs were all closed. The casinos were shut down. Even the social clubs, the Belvaille Athletic and Belvaille Gentleman’s Club, were closed, and I didn’t think those had ever closed. Not even during riots.

What probably scared people the most was the fact our teles were all jammed. There was a looping message from the Navy and that’s it.

Teles were impossible to hack. Literally impossible. In a city full of some of the best criminals—okay, some of the better criminals—in the galaxy, no one even bothered with teles. You could do nothing to them whatsoever. But all of ours had become messageboards for the Colmarian Navy.

“Hi, Garm,” I said, as she walked up next to me on the sidewalk.

“Hello,” she responded. “I don’t have much time, come on.”

Garm was in a new military dress uniform I had never seen before. It was a bit sexy. She wasn’t looking at me as she kept her eyes forward.

“So, how about this weather?” I began as we walked nowhere and tried to look as if we were up to nothing. We kept our voices low.

“I don’t think they’re going to leave and I think it’s only a matter of time before they arrest me.”

“You?” I was shocked.

“They know everything. Everything we’ve done here. I’ve done. I don’t know how, but if I illegally crossed the street ten years ago, they somehow got pictures of it and witness testimony. They’re only keeping me around now because I know all the internal systems and who does what. As soon as they learn all the technical aspects of the city, I suspect they’ll have no more use for me.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“What are they doing with the people they arrest?”

“They don’t tell me.”

“So that’s it? They’re going to throw us all in jail?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but I’m not going to be cooperating for long,” she said ominously.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and pull a Rendrae and think you can fight these guys. I mean look around.”

“I’ve already been talking with Rendrae. We’re putting together strategies. We hope we can count on you, but I understand if you want no part of it. I suspect you’ll be okay no matter what.”

It was absolutely shocking to hear Garm talking like this. She was about the most sensible, level-headed person on the station, and if she was speaking these words, things must truly be bad.

“I don’t know what to say, Garm.”

Then I heard a voice above me.

“Hank. Eat suck. Suckface!”

I turned around and WHAM.

There was familiar, salty blood, like a hobo’s wine in my mouth. I was plastered all over a guard bunker which I had destroyed like a cannonball. I heard soldiers shouting and saw people running about as my eyes began to focus.

“What…idiot…gave him…a weapon?” I staggered.

Wallow was surrounded by soldiers who were trying to calm and cajole the monster, with limited success. What was most striking, however, was that he was wearing some makeshift Navy uniform. All black, big boots, buttons—the works. He even had a truncheon of some kind, which is what he had punted me down the street with.

I wondered if the Navy kept super-sized clothes on board their ships on the chance they might happen to run into a Therezian who was looking to enlist. Or maybe Rendrae was right and Wallow was part of some deep conspiracy all along.

But then I decided it was best to pass out.