Hard Luck Hank: Basketful of Crap (8 page)

I was walking down the street,
mulling all the latest news, when a car pulled up next to me.

It was not a gang car, because it
wasn’t ostentatious or stretched or armored. It was painted yellow with thin
red stripes. All of this made me concerned because I knew it was a corporation
vehicle.

The side rear window rolled down
and a man inside the car addressed me.

“Hank. Could I have a word with
you?”

The man’s brown hair was long and
he had an extremely lengthy beard, disappearing beneath the window. He looked
youthful, but his hair made it hard to tell. His lack of wrinkles and gray hair
was mostly how I discerned his age. His eyes were absolutely solid black, iris,
pupil, and sclera. His eyes were so black and shiny they were reflective. I
wasn’t sure if he was wearing contacts or just had freaky eyeballs.

“Sorry, I need to be going,” I
said, wanting nothing to do with corporations after I had maybe destroyed an
APC and someone was mysteriously assassinated in front of my door. Maybe two
people if you counted Toby. Or maybe my stairs were killers.

“It would be well worth your time,”
he said, as the car continued to pace me.

“What is this about?”

“About contracting your services.”

Man, let the casino you’re
protecting blow up, your boss get murdered, and suddenly people come out of the
woodwork to offer you jobs.

“I’m kind of booked solid right
now,” I said, trying to quicken my pace, which was stupid since I’m slow and a
car isn’t.

“The profit for you alone will be
500,000 credits.”

I stopped and turned to the car. I
was hoping for some reaction, a smile, a grimace, some tell, but the man had no
inflection at all.

My first guess when I heard that sum
was: it’s a lie. Then I thought they must be after the same device the Navy was.
There just weren’t a whole lot of half-to-million credit things to do around
here.

But in a sense it was good to hear
that, because a part of me still doubted the General. That such a weapon was
here and it was so valuable.

“Who are you?”

“I am a representative of Colmarian
United Supply.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Aren’t you the Hank that fought
the Dredel Led? That negotiated with the Boranjame? That eliminated the gang
leader Ddewn? That secured the Independent Protectorate status of this space
station?” he rattled-off with a dull voice. Even when he asked questions his
voice did not rise at the end of sentences.

“Mostly,” I said, not sure how to
respond.

“Then what is being requested
should not be difficult for you to manage.”

“And what is that?” I asked. If he
said the Navy thing, I obviously couldn’t give it to both of them, but I could
use any information he had to help me find it. Then sell it to the Navy. Then
run like hell from the corporation.

“I think it would be best if we
discuss this in the car.”

I looked around the street. What
could he do to me? I had my autocannon. If they tried to make a move I could
blow us all up. Being bulletproof also allowed me to be slightly more trusting
than the average person.

“Hold on.”

I walked around the back of the
car, unslung my gun, and loaded a high-explosive shell, hoping he wasn’t
watching me, or heard the very noticeable cycling of the round into the
chamber.

I tried to put the autocannon in
first but realized it was way too long to fit. I pushed and angled, but it
wasn’t happening.

“Is that really necessary?” I heard
from inside.

“Yeah it’s—ah!” I had looked in to
address the corporate man and noticed that he was completely naked. “Come on!”

“What is your concern?”

“Where are you clothes? What is
this?”

“I do not require any.”

“Can I just meet you somewhere?”

“You will not be able to cross our
security without difficulties.”

“Stay on your side of the seat,” I
warned.

I continued to try and angle in the
autocannon. I had to face it into the front and actually hit the driver on the
back of the head.

“Sorry, buddy.”

The driver was literally a faceless
corporation soldier, wearing an armored suit and helmet. I don’t think I hurt
him with the little bump, especially since he had on a helmet. But he didn’t
even turn around in the slightest. These guys were disciplined.

I finally had the gun situated
lengthwise across the whole car. Probably not-subtly, I had my hand on the
trigger. I figured an HE round direct against the roof of the car would be
really bad for all of us, especially a naked guy.

“What’s your name?” I asked my
nudist co-passenger as the car headed off.

“I do not have one,” he responded.

These corporations were some weird
stuff.

We drove through the city at a fast
clip. After a while we entered a corporation zone and it was clear I would have
had issues trying to meet him here. There were APCs and armed soldiers roaming
everywhere. At one point we came to an actual roadblock checkpoint.

This could all be a trap. But I
wasn’t sure to what end.

Belvaille had been under Navy
martial law some years ago and they had poured tens of thousands of soldiers
onto the station. It looked about that same level of security in this one area.

There were warehouses and
manufacturing facilities here as well as what looked like housing for the
soldiers. We stopped outside a building surrounded by troops and the naked man
got out.

I checked around to see if there
were any obvious signs of an attack.

The driver exited the car as well
and I realized I was alone in a big metal box, which made a great target.

I opened the door and got myself
and my gun out in about a tenth the time it took me to get in. Though I bent
the car door a bit.

Naked Guy was waiting for me on the
stairs to a warehouse and I hurried after him. I strapped my autocannon on in
front. I wasn’t going to stow it away. Not being neck-deep in soldiers.

The gun wasn’t really designed for
walking—wasn’t really designed for anything that Delovoa said it was. I had to
lean way back to stabilize it and inch along at maybe half my normal speed.

I felt the canister round would be
far better than HE at this point, but I would have to eject the current round,
pick that up, reload a canister, and put the HE back or shove it in a pocket.

I suspected they might notice that.
Especially the soldiers. I didn’t want to make any moves that might cause them
to attack.

The building was a two-story
warehouse filled with crates. There was no real second story, just a catwalk
going around the top, covered with maybe a half dozen soldiers looking my way.

Walking behind Naked Guy, I had to
remark at how much he wasn’t a gang boss. First off, he was naked. He didn’t
even have a great body or anything. He wasn’t fit. He wasn’t fat. He was just
normal. A boss wouldn’t ever show off unless he had something to show off. This
guy was as disarmed as he could possibly be.

They didn’t even let him cut his
hair. Now that he was outside of the car and walking, I could see his hair went
down to the top of his rear. His beard almost to his navel. He was a hairy Naked
Guy.

He had the mannerisms of someone
who was subservient. Like everything was boring routine—a butler shining the
same cutlery for the thousandth time.

And to top it all off, he didn’t
even have a name. He could have been lying about that, but he didn’t seem to
be. I had never heard of anyone not using a name. Or nickname. Or fake name.
The Colmarian Confederation was a crowded place and we communicated by teles.
The days of us simply being able to point at one another were long since gone.

In about the center of the
warehouse, Naked Guy stopped.

I was anxious surrounded by all
these soldiers. Though I had to admit my autocannon made me feel a lot more
secure. I would at least be able to get off one shot—before it flung me across
the building and onto my stomach.

“You are to gather a team with the
objective of destroying a club,” he said, as if we were continuing a
conversation.

“Huh?”

“The Ulzaker-Ses club is to be
removed. Its contents demolished. Its inhabitants and employees killed.”

“Whoa. I’m not a murder squad.
What’s this about? If there’s a problem I can talk to them. Work something out.
That’s what I’m best at.”

“There is nothing required or
requested from them other than their elimination.”

I stood there thinking about that.
I had not been expecting this at all. I had been a hitman before, but usually
for a reason. A gang war. Some act of retribution. But not going into a club
and gunning people down.

“I can’t do that,” I said finally.
Even if it meant this trip could get nasty. “I can’t kill everyone who happens
to be at a club. That’s just…people don’t do that on Belvaille.”

He gazed at me for some time. His black
eyes didn’t change. His manner didn’t change. His nakedness didn’t change.

I was waiting for him to signal the
troops. Do something. I was ready.

“What if it were late in the
morning?” he said again, his voice not inflecting. “If there was no one inside?”

“I can torch an empty club, sure.”
I was going to say that he didn’t need me for that when he had a zillion
soldiers, but he was offering money.

“The club may be on alert,
regardless. They may have security personnel.”

I supposed they had been fighting
already. This was just some ongoing strife. One of the corporations taking over
another gang outfit. I didn’t know who owned that particular club, it was
relatively new.

“And you won’t let me try and work
a deal? I could get you the place for a price, I’m sure. Maybe even less than
you’re looking to spend on this hit.”

“This is the contract that is to be
assigned.”

I sighed.

“I’m going to need help, then. Do
you know how many people they have on security?”

“Approximately thirty.”

“Thirty?” That was huge. Whoever it
was they were fighting had some money and wasn’t going quietly. I guess that’s
why the corporation was coming down so hard. Maybe they had already tried the
soft touch and it had escalated to here. To me.

“I’m going to need to hire a lot of
people then. What about these guys?” I asked, indicating some of the soldiers
standing on the catwalks.

“They have responsibilities already
and can’t be put at risk.”

Yeah, let the riffraff fight each
other. Fine.

“I’m going to need to hire like…” I
fluttered my lips, blowing air out as I thought. “Fifty people. And we’ll need
gear.”

“How much will you require?”

I just didn’t see how it was
doable. A one-off job like that would be too much money. That’s why you had
gangs to begin with. No one could afford to make and equip an entire gang just
for a week’s work.

“You’re asking too much. Even if I
could find guys that had their own weapons, going up against potentially thirty
armed guys who are prepared, they’re going to want ten thousand at least.”

The naked man went to a tele on a
nearby container and punched in some numbers. He came back with a token and
handed it to me.

“Is this sufficient?”

It was two million credits. Two
million! I was holding two million credits in my hand on an anonymous token. I
could hop on a shuttle right now, rent passage on any ship, and become a well-off
person on nearly any other planet in the Confederation.

That was a testament of how much
money it was that not three seconds after I received it, I was immediately
thinking of embezzling. I had never stolen money from any job. But maybe that
was also an indication of what Belvaille had become.

What were these corporations? How
could he just give me two million credits to be rid of a silly club? Money was
just some completely different animal to them. I couldn’t fathom the ease of
it. The Colmarian Navy was willing to pay a million for a stolen super-weapon
and a corporation was willing to pay twice that for a bonfire.

I could buy the club with this and
tell everyone inside to get lost—and they would do so gladly with this much
cash.

“Yeah, this is plenty,” I said
quickly.

“You will need to wear a uniform.”

“Oh, no! I’m not wearing one of
those things. I might work for you on this job, but I’m not part of your
corporation.”

“It is required to prevent any
other unnecessary disturbances you might have with our forces.”

I took it he meant the APC.

“So your people won’t shoot at me?”

“That is correct.”

“But what about other corporations?
You guys are fighting all the time. That just means one won’t fight me but the
others will on sight.” I thought about it some more. “Besides, I’ll have a hard
time recruiting people for this job if they think I’m corporate. No offense.”

“I have something you can wear. A
helmet.”

He went deeper into the warehouse
and I could hear him opening crates. I didn’t want to wear a helmet. Those
things seemed impossible to see out of. And they looked silly.

He came back after some minutes
holding an ornate piece of cloth.

I took it.

“This goes on my head?” I asked,
trying to figure it out. It certainly wasn’t a helmet. It was very loose fabric
with what looked like jade and gold inlays on it in a decorative pattern.

“Yes. The soldiers will be able to
recognize it. But other corporations will not, so they will not target you, as
you feared.”

I put it on. It was a bit snug. It
was more of a skullcap with two long straps on each side covering my ears. The
interior was soft and spongy and fairly comfortable. I had never been much of a
hat person, but it wasn’t bad.