It began innocently enough: “Hobardi lacks experience and he will pull the city into a theocracy based on his own religion.”
About a week later it became: “there are independent reports that Peush is working for the Dredel Led to sell Colmarians as feedstock to the Boranjame.”
This was going back and forth constantly. My only take on it was the candidates felt they couldn’t really resort to violence to win—because I told them they couldn’t, and they had seen how it had negatively impacted Hong and his Totki Clan—and so they were trying to get ahead in the polls by hurling turds at one another.
I don’t even think any of them had given their positions on issues. Stating your position might piss people off who disagreed with you. But attacking someone else only hurt them, especially if you did it through third parties.
If the times weren’t so serious, it would be comical. But the Boards were still a mess and I couldn’t figure out what to do. Fortunately, I had been wrong and people weren’t rioting due to the prices.
Everyone was spending all their money on food or pawning their hard assets to make up the shortfall. But that couldn’t last forever. Money lenders were charging exorbitant rates.
I lumbered into the Belvaille Athletic Gentleman’s Club heavy with thought and empty of stomach.
“Secretary. Secretary!” Someone called.
I wasn’t used to being referred to as Secretary of City yet, so I didn’t answer at first.
“Huh?”
Two men ran up to me, holding some papers. One was breathless and agitated and he wore a complicated array of lenses on his face to correct his vision. The other man had a bushy beard and bushy arm hair and was wearing business clothes, but not very well.
“You need to invalidate Hong as a candidate,” the eyeglassed man said.
“Why?”
He shoved the paper in my face like he wanted me to eat it.
“Haven’t you read?”
“Hong is a spy for the Moluk-teen Regime!” The bushy man said.
“The what?”
The two men looked at each other like I was an imbecile. And maybe I was. But not because of this.
“The Moluk-teen Regime. They’re trying to recolonize Belvaille. That’s why the Totki carry spears.”
“They are radio antennas.”
I stood there a long moment. I just couldn’t bring myself to answer.
“Haven’t you heard of this? You’re Secretary of City.”
“And Supreme Kommilaire. If anyone should—”
“Guys,” I said, holding up my hands.
They looked at me with expectant eyes, their mouths poised in mid-jabber.
“Piss off,” I said.
I walked to my booth and ordered an extra helping of sandwiches. I was almost tempted to order the meat cake thing.
“Sorry, sir. No sandwiches left,” the Dredel Led server said.
“How did that happen?” The club was never out of food. They just served old stuff if they had to.
“The wholesalers are not making their usual shipments. Apologies.”
Alright, now we had a problem.
I struggled to my feet and looked across the room. All kinds of deals were going on here. Gangs were fighting. They were resolving conflicts. There were mergers. Acquisitions. New companies being formed. Turf was being divided. Products being designed. Products being diluted.
But no one was eating. And there was a definite air of desperation over my familiar club.
“Hey. Everyone,” I said.
No one turned. Even the people who heard me didn’t turn for long.
I took out two pistols and started firing randomly, just above everyone’s heads, forcing them to the floor.
One guy returned fire until I glared at him. He put his gun down.
“Hey. Uh. If you wanted me to fix the economy. Make Belvaille more valuable. What would you want me to do? As Supreme Kommilaire and Secretary of City.”
No one answered.
They still seemed pretty annoyed I had shot at them. Some were slowly returning to their seats or standing up.
“Like, anything?” I finally heard one guy ask at my elbow. He was definitely a gang boss. His teeth were all gemstones and he was wearing every garish color possible on his clothes, none of them matching.
“Anything I could do. I’m not a magician.”
“You know Beadle Avenue?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Someone has hacked apart the water lines underneath so they can siphon them and not have to pay. Any businesses on that street don’t have water. I can’t manufacture anything.”
A quiet moment.
“Alright,” I said, nodding. That was a good start.
Wham!
The room came alive. People were climbing on top of each other to try and get in front of me. They were fighting and pulling and yelling. It was like feral kids battling over a packet of food rations, only they were rich criminals in fancy clothes.
“The salt prices in the 48th Street market always lag the others because the train is shut down ten blocks away. The Neculone Building needs 100 more kilowatts to reach full capacity, half our machines are idle. Latticework lighting in the southeast has been spotty for the last three years. Ships can’t languish in port for weeks, you need to push them out so others can get in, just because they’re bigger doesn’t mean they should get priority. Garm still has a huge amount of real estate she isn’t using; turn that over to the public via auction so we can develop it. We need a city run courier fleet so they don’t gouge you based on location. Not if my prices go up! You need to put an Ank Board in the southwest. The feral kids are becoming a real problem on Westlos, increase Stair Boy patrols. If we sell goods to the city, we should be able to use city resources for free. The loudspeakers are monopolized by the richest groups, there should be at least half the time where us normal businesses can use them since you won’t let us create more. Guns shouldn’t be illegal for gangs that you register and approve—and we could pay you. That’s a good idea. No drugs should be illegal, especially XrXr. Clean out the bottom of Deadsouth so we can at least travel across it instead of going around.”
This went on for about thirty minutes. I didn’t have anything to record it with and I only heard about a tenth of what everyone was saying. But soon I realized:
Their goals weren’t to help the economy. They were offering suggestions designed to help themselves personally.
I now understood what the Governor would do on Belvaille. He or she would have to listen to this crap all day and night.
“Hey. Hey! People. I need to go. I’ll come back later.”
But it was like a burst water main, they just kept talking and talking and clamoring after me. They kept a respectable distance, like an ocean lapping against a force field. But they didn’t stop and followed me right to the exit and even onto my heavy lifter. I actually thought we were going to run over some of them.
I was at Rendrae’s broadcast studio. “The Boards. Hank, what is going on with them?” Rendrae asked me.
He had been reluctant to talk, but when I told him what it was about, his news-nose overruled his wounded journalistic integrity. I was sitting in my portable chair and Rendrae was at his control panel with his headset on.
“It’s supply and demand, Rendrae. Pure and simple,” I stated with confidence.
“But what does that mean to the man on the street? How do you expect them to cope, Supreme Kommilaire?”
Wish he wasn’t trying to put this on my shoulders, but that was fine.
“No one controls the Boards, as you know. Not even the Ank—”
“But the Ank set prices. They loan money. They handle almost everything,” Rendrae interrupted.
“But the Boards demand the market. They aren’t not correct. In the sense of the market,” I fumbled.
“Tell a person who can’t afford dinner, what he can do. Give him practical answers,” Rendrae pressed.
“Say you have three rocks in one hand. Your left hand. And in your right hand you have…four rocks—no, a jar of rocks,” I began, holding my hands up to myself as I tried to work through my illustration.
“Secretary of City!” Rendrae said. “People are hungry. What is the government, Garm’s government, doing about it?”
“Oh. As soon as the prices of food went past a certain threshold, we call it the…‘bad threshold,’ I put out word to any supply ships that Belvaille is low on stores. There are three full cargo ships en route now.”
“Loaded with food?” Rendrae asked, impressed.
“Yes. And I spoke with Delovoa and he said he has a solution for the water issue.”
“Delovoa said that?” Rendrae asked, almost reverently. “Can you tell us exactly what he said?”
Delovoa’s words were almost like gospel because few people ever heard him. If they did, his words wouldn’t be like gospel anymore.
“He just said, ‘device,’” I stated mysteriously.
“A device? So you heard it here, people. Delovoa is working on a device for the water. And do you know if this is a new device, Hank, or an existing one?” Rendrae asked, completely serious.
“I didn’t inquire. When he starts talking technical it’s just…whew, no one can understand.”
“I can imagine. So when are the ships going to be here?”
“I’m not an astro-navigator. I think it depends. We got a market and they got the goods so it’s in their best interest to get here quick.”
“And you contacted them personally?”
“In my role as Secretary of City. Yes.”
“Excellent. Excellent. Is there anything else going on you’d like to mention?” Rendrae asked. He was pleased with the broadcast and was letting me freeform.
“I want Belvaille to know that we are undertaking significant efforts to improve the value of the city for future generations. I believe the long-term value of Belvaille is substantial and we’re looking to make it even more valuable.”
“That’s great. I think everyone here on Belvaille appreciates that, Hank. I know things have been difficult lately but I think this city can get through it.”
He smiled at me.
“It always has, Rendrae. It always has.”
“This is Rendrae, wishing Belvaille a good evening.”
The light went off and I rose from my chair, strapping my hooks back onto it.
“This is good news, Hank. I’m glad you came up with this. Can you give a hint when the first ship will get here?”
I looked over at him.
“There are no ships.”
“What? Why did you say there were? You just lied on my show to the whole city!”
“Because what you said is true, people can’t afford to eat.”
“Then why don’t you call for some ships like you said?”
“Do you think there’s a fleet of freighters, full of pasta, circling Belvaille waiting for us to run low on food? I could send messages and it would take months for anyone to get here.”
“Then why lie about it? People will be dead in months!”
“Because this is a fake panic. The Boards are spooked and I’m trying to spook them the other direction. The prices are up because we want them up.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Talk to the Ank.”
“The Ank did this?” Rendrae asked.
“No, but they explained it. Sort of.”
“Is Delovoa working on the water situation?”
“There is no water situation. We have plenty of water. We just think we don’t.”
“So there’s no device?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure he has devices that do water stuff. Just nothing new.”
Rendrae started slapping at me. He was probably hurting his hands but he kept on until he was winded, which wasn’t very long.
“This is twice! Why don’t you think I’ll just turn on this microphone and tell everyone you’re a fraud?”
“Well, for one, because your program is over and they’re broadcasting Legendary Lovers of Lhoshtor; and two, you’ll just make the panic worse. You’d be killing all the poor people as the Boards erode even further.”
“Don’t ever talk to me again!” Rendrae shouted, his face turning greenish-red.
Considering Rendrae had only been really helpful maybe five times and really annoying maybe a thousand, I was fine with that.
“Just look at the Boards tomorrow. If I’m wrong, you can throw mud in my eye.”
“Where am I going to get mud? Water’s a precious commodity and good luck finding soil.”
CHAPTER 42
The Ank said the markets dislike doubt.
Well, the markets must despise Delovoa.
The next day the price for foodstuffs dropped precipitously. Not back to the levels before all this crap started happening, but low enough that I thought people could afford to exist.
Water, however, dropped lower than it was before the spike. You couldn’t give it away.
Delovoa was such an unknown quantity, and such an overwhelming one, that no one wanted to be caught with their money in something he was tinkering with. They were afraid he would make the latticework start raining. Or flood the feral kids out of the west and make Lake Delovoa.
I didn’t blame them, but it showed just how wacky the Boards were. I’d shifted an unbelievable amount of money on the station simply by lying.
And I’m a terrible liar.
People were back to normal, washing their clothes and bathing and wasting water by spitting on sidewalks.
“How did you know it would work?” Rendrae asked me at my apartment.
“Is it alright for me to talk to you again?” I replied.
He didn’t answer, just stood waiting.
“Look, I don’t understand the Ank. I don’t even know why I go to them. But the Boards. The Boards are just like any gangs we had in the past. If one gang was selling forged documents, then another starts, then another starts, they have to reduce prices to compete with each other.”
“But you didn’t create any new food or water.”
“No one knows that. We didn’t, and don’t, have a shortage. The Boards are just fear and greed, three stories tall.”
“So were you creating fear or greed?”
“They’re pretty much the same when it comes to money. Now I just need to keep the city calm and valuable.”
“With Garm pulling the strings, the city is never going to be calm,” he sneered.
I was about to argue with him, but I honestly felt he was right. I didn’t know what Garm was doing and I felt like I was stumbling around in the dark.
I really needed to talk to her.
“That may be true but—” I began.
“Shh,” Rendrae said suddenly. He cocked his head to the side.
“What?”
“Listen.”
I was expecting something like gunfire or sirens or explosions.
“I don’t hear anything,” I said.
He gave me a dirty look.
“The loudspeakers.”
They had of course been droning on. The loudspeakers were always talking. I could hear a voice babbling about something at Belvaille’s port. It was a news story.
“Is that one of your competitors?” I asked.
“Yes. He said a Therezian is here.”
“They’re all dead,” I said, horrified.
“Come on!”
Rendrae was still a news hound and the fat old man ran outside my apartment faster than you would have ever guessed. By the time I reached the door he was a block away, his arms and legs pumping.
I caught snippets of the broadcast as I made my way to the train.
Valia met up with me in the street, straightening her outfit.
“Did he say a Therezian is here? How is that possible?” she asked.
Like the clones, Therezians had been the shock troops of the civil war. When Naked Guy had
started the war, he gave one enemy faction tanks and chemical weapons and biological weapons and clone soldiers. He gave the other side a single Therezian.
If I had been there to wager, I would have put my money on the Therezian.
I didn’t really have a religion, but if there was a Creator Species somewhere, they started with the Therezians. Then, to celebrate building the perfect race, they got stinking drunk. The next day, when they were hungover, they built the rest of us.
The only reason the Therezians had not dominated the galaxy was because they had no technology. None. Species create technology in response to their environment and to overcome their shortcomings.
Therezians needed nothing. They had no shortcomings.
On the train everyone was talking about it and the loudspeaker report was growing more and more shrill.
“Is it a practical joke?” Valia asked.
“If it is, I’m going to arrest that person,” I said.
I found myself checking my guns for some unknown reason. Guns wouldn’t do anything to a Therezian.
“Hank, are you going to fight the giant?” someone asked on the train.
I saw everyone looking at me expectantly.
“I doubt there is one,” I mumbled.
Outside the docks, the streets were jammed with people.
At one point there had only been a thousand Therezians roaming the entire galaxy. I had since heard their home planet had been destroyed to prevent any more of them from leaving, but I wasn’t sure.
“Move!” I shouted. I pushed through the herd with ease, parting the mob with my arms. Valia was close behind me.
A hundred voices were calling out asking questions. These weren’t just curious spectators. They were worried. This was just what I needed. The Boards were going to crash again.
Whoever was making this news report was going to—
And then I saw him.
He must have been about fifty feet tall, dwarfing all the buildings on either side of the street, and he was walking this way.
How did anything that big even get to Belvaille? Could he fit in a freighter?
There were screams and yelling and pure terror. I didn’t look back, but I didn’t have to. From the sounds of their voices fading, the throng of people was beating a hasty retreat.
Hard Luck Hank: Prince of Suck Page 18