“I heard you killed Hobardi,” he said.
“I killed his clone. Well, Valia did.”
“What’s a clone?”
“It’s like a copy. With a bad brain. Like Two Clem was. Delovoa can explain.”
“I can’t see Delovoa, only you can. Convenient.”
“Why would I lie? I could just tell you I killed him because I felt like it. That’s not why you’re here. Delovoa made this device,” I said, indicating the machine on the floor. “It can detect Messahn battlesuit. 19-10’s armor. I think he might be hiding in Deadsouth. It would be easy to come and go.”
“How does it work?” he asked, picking it up.
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if does work. We didn’t have any chrodite-399 to try it out. It’s supposed to make some high-pitched squeal when you’re near where some has been used.”
“Is it safe?”
“Um. You probably want to put on your body armor. It’s Delovoa.”
“Why are you suddenly interested in 19-10?”
“I’ve always been interested in him. I just didn’t have anything I could do except blubber into my porridge.”
“Do you know anything more about him?”
“I’m guessing he isn’t here to kill me. Those little guns wouldn’t hurt me. I think he’s here for the election.”
“I thought you said Governor doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, but what do I know? Everyone thinks it matters, so it matters. We’re as powerful as people think. I told you that before,” I said.
“So if no one thought that Therezian was powerful he’d be weak?”
“Don’t be an ass, you know what I mean.”
“Who hired 19-10?” MTB asked.
“I don’t think Garm did. At first I had my doubts. But she’s not that subtle. If she wants a judge gone she fires him, right in front of the whole city, during a trial. If she wanted Hobardi gone she’d just kill him. She created a list of candidates of dead people! That’s Garm. When you can turn off all our oxygen you don’t need to be sneaky. 19-10 has been totally discreet.”
“So who hired him? Hong isn’t sneaky. Most gang bosses aren’t sneaky,” MTB said.
“No. But Peush of the Olmarr Republic is. He’s got money. He’s got an agenda of some kind. He’s probably going to win the election, or at least some council seats.”
“What will you do?”
“Ask him,” I said.
“Do you think he’ll tell you? ‘Hey, have you been hiring assassins and murdering people’?” MTB asked skeptically.
“No. But I’m sure he won’t if I don’t ask him. It’s better than sitting here.”
“Have you reformed the Royal Wing yet?”
I sighed.
“Their first set of laws was one page and I told them it was no good. They just finished their next set and it’s about a thousand pages. I don’t even know where they got that much paper. I read maybe an inch. They must have a bunch of adjudicators over there because I couldn’t make sense of any of it.”
“They do have some adjudicators over there. We arrested them.”
“I know, but I wasn’t sure if they were dead yet.”
“So who hired the clones?”
“Clones are built. I don’t know who could make them. Not even Delovoa could. They might be left over from the war, but we can’t figure out why there would be clones of Hobardi and Two Clem.”
“Are there other clones? How can I spot them and train my teams to spot them?”
“You have to scan their brains.”
“I’m in Deadsouth. I don’t know if anyone has a brain.”
“Delovoa is working on a new gadget, but it’s not ready. Don’t worry about them, though. Look for 19-10.”
There was a pause.
“I hired ten new Kommilaire,” MTB said.
This was a bit surprising. He had never hired anyone without my say-so.
“Alright. How are they doing?”
“We’ve started to make some minor forays into the feral kid zones. But it’s dark over there.”
“Where are you getting equipment from?”
“We confiscate guns and ammunition and supplies from criminals instead of fining them,” he said.
“Heh. That’s like something I would do.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Have you all killed anyone yet?”
“Twelve.”
“Wow. That was fast.”
“It’s Deadsouth. People shoot at the latticework because they think it is a flying monster. And without a twelve-ton Stair Boy, people aren’t quite as frightened of us.”
“You’re welcome back with me whenever you want,” I said.
“I like it down there. I feel like I’m making a difference. I’m a street cop. It’s what I’m good at. You’re Supreme Kommilaire. You have to make decisions and compromises and take actions that I don’t really get. But I understand you have to do them.”
“Well, thanks for that,” I said.
“Besides, we cover a lot more ground without you.”
CHAPTER 48
“Huh,” I said, standing next to a partially-squashed apartment building.
A crowd of a few hundred curious onlookers stood with about a dozen of my Kommilaire.
Some kind of large machine had fallen off the latticework above the city and landed on this building. We weren’t sure how many people were inside the apartment when it hit and we’d probably never know because we didn’t have any means of un-squashing a steel alloy structure.
But what had happened was clear. Secured to the machine were the remnants of two men. It was evident they used to be Colmarians, though the fall had made them less recognizable as such.
“Are they maintenance workers?” one of my Kommilaire asked.
“No. They must have been trying to steal something. Metal or components. They strapped themselves to it so they wouldn’t fall off. But then the whole machine broke loose. A maintenance worker would have secured himself to the railing,” I said.
“There might be more up there,” a Stair Boy said, his eyes excited at the prospect.
I had been on the latticework before. It’s thousands of feet up with only a single walkway about six inches wide and a railing on one side. It was pretty terrifying.
I looked up at the “sky.”
“There’s only two ways up and down for each section. Post two guards at the elevators and wait. Their choices are to jump or starve. But I’m not sending Kommilaire up to try and arrest people on the latticework. It’s too dangerous,” I said.
My dumber Stair Boys seemed disappointed.
“And make sure all the other elevators are secured. We can’t be dodging a hail storm of debris. Especially since buildings aren’t good at dodging. Help me move this,” I said.
I attached my cables and magnet to the fallen apparatus and started pulling to try and get it out of the road. It was far heavier than I thought and I had to lean over and struggle mightily to scrape it along even a short distance. I had it about halfway up the sidewalk when my back began to hurt enough that my brain kicked into action.
This thing was too big to get back up to the latticework. I’m not sure how they had gotten it up in the first place, but it was long ago, probably during the construction of the station. If those thieves had been clamoring over it at that height, presumably it had some value.
“Free scrap metal!” I yelled to the crowd.
I disconnected all my cables and my magnet and moved away. When I was far enough removed, and I had ushered my Stair Boys to a safe distance, the crowd descended on the machine. I figured it would get picked apart in a few days, leaving only the frame which was too big to cut or carry.
I took a breather, eating some of my green paste, and hoped the machine wasn’t some vital piece of equipment that kept Belvaille alive.
Peush wasn’t hard to find, he was having a fundraiser.
I only had five Kommilaire with me a
t this point, the rest taking care of our ceiling looters and securing any other access points. I didn’t expect much would happen. I would ask Peush. He would deny everything and talk about the cool Olmarr Republic. Then he would flash that odd grin and I’d feel like I knew less than when I started.
Some of his Republican guards stood outside the building where the fundraiser was taking place, holding chainsaws. The Olmarr Republic must have truly detested trees.
I gave them a small nod as I moved to go past them.
“Invitation?” they asked, with sour expressions.
“I’m Hank,” I said, blinking. As if I was some unknown kid applying for a job.
“Invitation only,” another guard said, walking closer.
They held their chainsaws ready and I knew they flipped on with just a press of a button. But they were deluding themselves if they thought I remotely cared. I could probably shove those weapons in my mouth and it wouldn’t do much except clean my teeth.
“I’m Hank,” I tried to explain again. “I’m in your big book. Supreme Kommilaire. I…destroyed—or helped destroy—the Colmarian Confederation.”
“You’re name isn’t on the list,” one guard sneered, without looking at any list.
“I’m pretty sure it is. It’s listed under ‘People Who Can Kill You,’” I said.
I stomped ahead and they had to move.
Inside there was a front desk and reception where the pleasantly plump ladies scowled and said they didn’t have a name tag for me and that the refreshments were for guests only.
Just for that I took two cups of punch and downed them. Though it didn’t have the impact I hoped since the cups were flimsy and I spilled most of the punch on my hands and vest.
Hadn’t I been some huge hero to the Olmarr Republic? Did they rewrite their big book recently? This was what happened when you didn’t have a publicist. One bad court case and you got second billing.
There was a large auditorium and it was jammed with people sitting knee-to-knee. I couldn’t make out who was in front talking because there was a lot of smoke in the room and people were applauding.
A guard by the door leaned into me and whispered.
“Hey, you’re not supposed to be in here.”
I leaned back.
“Hey, shut up.”
The whole sides of the auditorium were lined with security guards and they were all shifting around now that I’d come in. I wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, I blocked the entire door. If there was a fire, all these people would die if I just stood here. That would teach them for denying me refreshments.
But I couldn’t actually see a way to move forward even if I wanted to. The room was packed to capacity, with only a thin row down the middle and along the walls available to walk. I couldn’t fit down either even if I walked sideways. Not without knocking over a lot of people.
However, I wasn’t going to turn around and sit in the hall waiting like some loser who didn’t have better things to do. By blocking the door they had to at least acknowledge I was here. Peush would talk to me eventually. If he ever wanted to get out.
I leaned against the doorframe while I waited.
It was standard meeting stuff. Talking about how good the people were for coming, how good the staff was, how good everyone was for everything.
Finally, Peush was introduced and he took the stand at the podium. I missed what his title was as I hadn’t been listening. But his designation wasn’t impressive. You tend to snap-to when someone says something like “Grand Lord of Galaxies,” but it was some minor bureaucratic label. It was only when I heard Peush’s name that I woke up.
Everyone applauded vigorously.
“The Republic dawns,” he began.
“Ever always,” the crowd answered with one voice.
That was kind of creepy. How had I let this organization sneak up and not really recognize it? When you can get hundreds of people to sit quietly, applaud, wear name tags, and answer mantras, they were a real thing.
The Sublime Order of Transcendence was organized and had a lot of members, but they were toga-toting wackos. The mere fact they were conned by Hobardi’s phony religion proved they weren’t a great threat and were just looking for some half-baked cause.
But these were real people. I could see merchants and businessmen, gang members, dock workers, couriers, Garm’s employees, just about every walk of life. I scanned for any of my Kommilaire but none were in uniform at least.
“I would like to thank Marshelette for the excellent dinner she served. It’s not easy feeding this many people,” Peush smiled.
The audience applauded a bashful woman off to the side and I found myself giving a few claps. Damn, I missed the food.
“The enemy is still present,” Peush said ominously.
The crowd nodded and muttered.
“The Republic is beset by those who would bring us down for selfish reasons. But they are not the Republic, we are the Republic.”
More agreement.
“The Totki are a pestilential filth that is sapping our native strength.”
No surprise there. They didn’t get along so well.
“The city, the galaxy, is filled with traitors and vermin, mutants and aliens. They are not us and we are not them. They need to go back where they came from. We cannot ever achieve peace with coexistence. It hasn’t happened in tens of thousands of years and every time we try, we poison ourselves. I, for one, am sick of poison. I am sick of killing my children so that the children of beasts might be comfortable.”
Wow. That got ugly fast. But no one was shocked, they applauded.
“The Republic dawns!” He said again.
“Ever always,” they answered.
“There are Gandrine and Keilvin Kamigans and Dredel Led on this station. Dredel Led! Who caused us to begin mutating our own people during the Colmarian Confederation. Why are we consorting with these species that despise us? Why do we welcome them? We should welcome them to leave.”
Vigorous applause.
I had really underestimated Peush. He made the xenophobic Totki look like a take-all-customers prostitute.
“It will require generations to return to purity, but with time, we will govern ourselves. We will not have to compromise for a Boranjame and his countless slaves or a Therezian towering over us.”
Good luck getting rid of Wallow, I thought.
“The government seeks to take our rights. Take our property. It fears us because it doesn’t understand us. Doesn’t understand how great the Republic was and can be again. The Republic dawns.”
“Ever always.”
“The Second Republic will be established once we have severed our links to the corrupting influence of the rest of the galaxy. The Portals must be destroyed.”
I stopped leaning against the doorframe and if I had been drinking punch, I would have spit it out. Was he serious? Destroy the Portals? That would completely isolate all the regions that weren’t contiguous. It would be the Dark Ages that Delovoa had spoken about. And Peush was recommending doing it on purpose.
“We should have the right to choose our own path in life, the right to be free as our forefathers were. We cannot do that the way things currently stand. Look,” he said, “there is the heavy, mutant hand of the government. It has been sent to spy on us.”
Every person turned around to see where Peush was pointing.
At me, of course.
“Uh, Republic rising,” I said, pointing both my index fingers at the crowd in the dead silence. But no one seemed to find it comforting or amusing.
I wasn’t sure if it was the lack of amplified speaking that let me hear it or whether it just started, but the unmistakable sounds of chainsaws and gunfire came to me from outside.
I turned around and left that pleasant group of people to see if my Kommilaire had similarly been refused refreshments and gone on a shooting spree.
The reception area was empty. The noise was coming from outside.
I s
tepped out and it was mayhem. There were four bodies on the ground, lots of blood, and chainsaw Republicans were dueling my Stair Boys.
A quick look showed me two of my men were down and three remained fighting but were retreating from a half-dozen Republican guards and their chainsaws. The Kommilaire were likely out of ammunition at this point and unable to reload without losing an arm.
I moved closer to the fray so I’d be less likely to shoot my own men, and I took a rifle from my vest. On the way I accidentally stepped on a fallen Olmarr Republican and he screamed.
The chainsaws turned to face me.
I aimed my rifle and fired, missing.
The guards circled my position cautiously. I took my time reloading.
I heard some grinding close by and I guessed one of the guards had attempted to use his blade on me.
I aimed at the attacker to my front, closing my bad eye, but he danced side-to-side to try and keep the barrel away from him. I fired, opened both eyes, and saw I missed. How did I miss? He was like ten feet away.
I threw my gun at him. But if I was bad at shooting, I was absolutely horrible at throwing. I couldn’t accelerate my arm fast enough to get any kind of velocity. The rifle clacked on the ground a few feet away from me where I looked at it sadly.
A guard tried to duck in and steal the rifle but I swept him closer with my right arm and grabbed him with my left hand. If you want to fight me, don’t ever get within arm’s reach. I’m not sure how anyone on this city didn’t know that yet.
“Run, guys!” I said to my men. “Don’t move or I’ll tear your friend in half,” I told the guards.
My Kommilaire dashed away to safety.
“The Republic dawns,” the guard I was holding said.
“Ever always,” his compatriots answered eerily.
They slashed at me with their chainsaws, pressing the blades in until the teeth ground off the chains. These guys were serious.
I killed the guard in my hands, turning on the remaining foes. I suddenly heard:
“Hank,” Peush said.
He stood at the entrance to the building and had another dozen or more guards with him.
“I just came here to have a conversation with you. Now look,” I said, gesturing at the carnage.
Hard Luck Hank: Prince of Suck Page 21