Hard Luck Hank: Screw the Galaxy (32 page)

I took a break in my room and pondered the
diplomats. They all had that universal self-importance that comes from being
influential go-getters. Yet here they were out at the edge of the known galaxy,
not even in their own empires.

It was then I realized I had these guys all
wrong. They weren’t like gang bosses. They were like the filthiest errand boys
at the bottom of the gang hierarchy. They
wanted
to be gang bosses. I
mean no one became a diplomat because they liked to travel. There were plenty
easier ways of seeing the universe.

These guys entered politics so they could
become someone big. But they pissed off the wrong person and got sent all the
way out here.

While placating the Boranjame was a needed job,
it had no prestige. It had no perks. It had nothing that anyone who entered
politics placed any stock in. Everything of import was done back on their home
worlds. These guys were out of the loop.

But I knew what they wanted. They wanted to
escape this place. They wanted lives of leisure, positions of power. To move up
the food chain. They were just doing time here, like convicts on Belvaille
waiting out their statutes of limitations.

I racked my brain and finally came up with
something that might have a chance. Theatrics were a necessary part of my plan
and I needed the help of the Po servants, so I gave them detailed instructions
and prayed they could understand me.

The diplomatic meeting started again and I took
my seat with all the other aliens.

“Transcommunication network costs need to be
more evenly divided among our empires!” the Gandrine shouted.

The Po I’d contacted earlier with instructions,
approached and placed something in front of the Gandrine ambassador before
quickly retreating.

More Po came in and laid objects in front of
every diplomat and hurried away. No one reacted as the items were not
recognized and the Po were seen as background noise to be ignored. I decided to
nudge things along and I stood up to speak.

“Gentlemen…and such, the material that sits
before you is the reason why I am here,” I stated calmly.

“Your Excellency has already once—,” the purple
Po began.

“That’s delfiblinium,” the Rettosians squealed,
pointing at the metal on the table, and they jumped away knocking over chairs
in their haste.

All the diplomats got to their feet, or
equivalent, and backed away as the Po servants continued to pile my uncrated
luggage before us.

“The Colmarian Confederation has perfected the
process of delfiblinium manufacture. Who wants to do business?”

The first rule of serious, life-or-death
negotiating I ever learned was: stall. Even if it was for an hour, in that hour
you could often scrape something together more permanent. Every moment they’re
listening, you’re not dying.

This was a life-or-death negotiation. Yeah, we
had no other delfiblinium. And it took Jyonal, a level-ten, drugged mutant, to
make this batch. But no one else knew that.

The Ank was suddenly standing next to me.

“Do you need a broker?” he asked.

When the table collapsed under the weight of
the delfiblinium, the diplomats were all strangely silent. This was a highly
dangerous substance in front of them, yet they overcame their fear because it
was also a potential ticket out of here. I was offering one of the rarest
substances in the galaxy, possession of which might elevate any of these
diplomats back into the high esteem of their home governments.

The assorted aliens practically attacked me.
What do I want? How much do I have to offer? The Qwintine have always favored
the great Colmarian Confederation.

But I was waiting for one person who wasn’t
here.

“Hank, the Boss,” the purple Po stated.

“Is this not new business?” I asked
caustically.

“Could you speak privately?” It tried to make
himself heard above the fray.

“I want this ship stopped. And I don’t want to
talk to you. I want to talk to the Prince.”

The Therezians walked ahead as the purple Po
accompanied me to the Prince’s chamber. We had taken a series of moving floors
and flying transports and tube shuttles to get this far. It was far indeed. Before
a negotiation this important I would usually want to eat and rest first, but I
wasn’t sure how much time I had. Belvaille may have already been destroyed for
all I knew.

“Proceed,” the purple Po stated, offering a
dozen arms to indicate the direction, as if there was a doubt. It was
impossible to tell how large the approaching room was, but the Therezians
looked like action figures in comparison to its entrance.

When I finally crossed the threshold, I must
say I was impressed.

If the other halls had been massive, this one
was in a category all its own. It was beyond belief. It was extraordinary.

Directly in front of me, floating some hundreds
of feet in the air, was the Prince.

The purple Po had instructed me to kneel, but I
was too dumbstruck.

The Boranjame, as there could be no doubt
that’s what it was, exceeded all expectations. I tried to take him in, but it
was difficult. The Prince must have literally been miles long and miles high.

He was composed of rotating, intersecting,
moving crystalline patterns. It was like a million, mile-long snowflakes
dancing and bisecting each other. Each one had different shades and reflections
of scintillating color.

He was fantastically beautiful.

All around the Prince were what must have been
thousands of Po—some on the ground, some on ladders or cranes, some in tiny
airships. They were so far away it was tough to tell what they were doing.
Cleaning him? Feeding? Playing cards? Who knew?

It was only through their presence that I could
estimate the size of the Prince and the size of the room itself. In the corners
of the high room, almost beyond visible range, were artillery guns. An
impressive security system if there ever was. I thought of Jyen briefly as I
would need to be destroyer-resistant to survive those weapons.

It looked like a full-service space dock. But
instead of servicing a battleship, there was this prism of royalty. I don’t
know what I had expected, but this wasn’t it. The room had a severe dampness
and chill, my breath billowing in clouds, and there was frost on the floor and
many surfaces.

Was there a whole race of these things? It
seemed impossible.

“Why are you here?” I suddenly heard from a set
of speakers nearby. The voice was simulated, but unlike the clunky Po voice
boxes or the Keilvin Kamigan accents, this was a lyrical, yet imposing
Colmarian voice. As if he had a paid voice actor out of view—and maybe he did.

“I’m here to trade,” I said, snapping out of my
reverie.

“And what is it you have to offer?”

“I didn’t say trade with you,” I fired back,
idly wondering if this thing could eat me.

After a pause that made me very nervous, the
Prince continued.

“I understand you have delfiblinium.”

“And I understand this ship is headed for the
Colmarian Confederation.”

“We require planets.”

“Don’t we all. Don’t we all,” I said, like a
down-on-his-luck galactic overlord. “But I can’t let you pass into our empire.”

“And what would you do to stop me? Little
Colmarian.”

This isn’t Belvaille, I thought to myself. Take
it easy. I looked back up at those artillery cannons. I didn’t speak. Because
my mouth was dry. Because more lives than I could possibly imagine were at
stake. And I really didn’t want to say anything stupid for once.

“If you invade us, there will be galactic war.”

“Between my people and the Colmarian
Confederation?”

“No, between your people and every empire
represented back there,” I said, indicating behind me, even though the
diplomats were likely dozens or even hundreds of miles away. “Because a
condition of them trading delfiblinium with us will be to mutually defend each
other if attacked.”

“And do you believe they would honor that
agreement?”

“They’ll make the arrangement because no one
wants to be the only empire without a delfiblinium stockpile,” I said.

“Even if true, would they be able to resist my
ship?”

“I guess it depends on how many delfiblinium
warheads this heap can withstand.” I looked around appraisingly.

“What is it you want?”

“I want this ship stopped.”

“It already is. But we need planets.”

“How many?” I asked. That being the oddest
concept I had ever verbalized.

“We need approximately 200 class 2B planets and
100 class 4J planets.”

Those designations meant nothing to me. But 300
planets was something. I had no idea how many occupied solar systems the
Colmarian Confederation had, but you couldn’t start plucking planets out of
them without harm.

“How about the Dredel Led?” I asked. “You could
take planets from their empire instead.”

“They would be a formidable enemy.”

“Not worse than every other empire combined.
Besides, they tried to invade us and failed. They won’t be a problem. And no
one likes them anyway.”

The Boranjame only have these ships. It was
their only advantage—though large advantage it was. I must have scared the
crystals off this guy with my delfiblinium warheads threat. Despite the fact
that I bet we could pile every ounce of delfiblinium that existed in the
Colmarian Confederation under the Prince and detonate it, and he wouldn’t get
more than a tummy-ache. If he even had a tummy.

I put on my best gambler face and seemed to
ponder.

“I’ll tell you what, if you pull out of here,
and engage the Dredel Led for your planets, we won’t trade any delfiblinium
with any other empires.”

I was negotiating to not trade something I
didn’t have. I thought I was the smartest guy in the galaxy until:

“We will trade for all of your output,” the
Prince said. “We will not cross into your territory, though we make no
provisions or restrictions about engaging the Dredel Led or any other race.”

I stood there thinking that over even though there
was nothing to think about.

“Sure,” I coughed.

Neither of us spoke for what seemed like
minutes. Was he waiting for a handshake, because I didn’t see any hands?

“Nice meeting you, your Excellency, Hank the
Boss,” he said. And the whole of the Prince stopped moving momentarily, and
then started revolving again, but slower. He displaced so much air I actually
felt a breeze.

“Nice meeting you,” and I realized I had
completely forgotten his name, “the most amazing ruler of the most amazing race
of the Boranjame.” I sought to hide my blunder with a bit of flattery. “May you
rule for ten thousand years,” I proclaimed, bowing low. I had no idea how long
they lived. I hoped that wasn’t an insult.

“And may you not be betrayed and murdered by
your best friend. Unloved, your corpse deserted in the coldness of space, where
memory of you would swiftly become less substantial than the faded light of a
long-dead star,” the Prince replied.

That was awful specific. I had the idea that
the Prince knew something he wasn’t telling me, but I was too frightened to
ask.

“Thanks,” I managed to squeak.

“Garm. Garm. You there?”

After long moments she finally answered.

“Hank? What’s going on?” Even on the tele
screen I could see her panic.

“Hey, can someone pick me up? They dropped me
off here.”

“To the world-ship?” she asked, stunned.

“No, they’re leaving. I’m in a shuttle. I’ll
transmit the coordinates. I can explain when you guys get here.”

My pick-up was relatively uneventful thanks to
the excellent spacesuit and shuttle the Boranjame had provided. I couldn’t fly
the ship, as it was designed for Po, but it kept me protected.

I did not see the world-ship leave as I was
facing the wrong way, but I felt its gravitational tug get weaker and weaker,
and then it must have finally engaged its a-drive and blipped away to go hassle
some other unfortunate species.

Garm and company used a cargo ship and towed my
shuttle back home, it being too difficult to attempt a transfer in space.

I had mentally prepared myself for death when I
originally set out to the world-ship. But with that past and the space station
Belvaille looming into view, I admit I cried with joy. It was an unbelievable
weight off my shoulders. I was coming home.

The dock was empty except for Garm. She didn’t
want to start a general panic on people seeing me return whole from my
assignment.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Give me a second,” I said, as I tried to take
off my spacesuit. I didn’t have the many hands of the Po to assist me. There
must have been twenty buckles on the vest alone.

Garm was clearly desperate for answers and she
saw some of my belongings and picked them up.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A contract with the Boranjame.”

Garm’s eyes went wide as she scanned it.

“Cool, huh? By the way,” I said, looking around
to make sure no one overheard, “you need to contact whoever you need to contact
and get them to put all our resources into delfiblinium processing.”

“What? Why?” Garm asked.

“That’s what the Boranjame want. It’s either
that or 300 planets. I figure we got a good deal.”

“Delfiblinium?” she asked, dazed.

“I didn’t exactly have a lot to trade.”

“You didn’t blow them up?” she asked.

I threw my arms wide, showing the obvious
answer.

“What? You sound upset I’m still here. The
Boranjame are gone. Our civilization isn’t in ruins. I thought I did pretty
well.”

Garm seemed to suddenly snap-to.

“So we’re safe?” Garm asked, still unsure.

“As safe as Belvaille ever gets,” I replied.

She looked at the contract again.

“What’s the ‘good and valuable services’ part
of the deal they owe us?”

I held out a small round device in my palm.

“This,” I said, smiling.

“What is it?”

I clicked it on and the face of the Ontakian
artifact glowed brilliant blue. It rumbled a deep organ in your chest that
medical technicians probably had a name for.

“I’m going to make a necklace out of it,” I
stated, holding up my bartered item with glee. I bet those Ontakians would be
upset to know the Boranjame gave it to me.

“You and your toys. Doesn’t that hurt?” she
asked, disapproving.

I clicked it off.

“Yes, but it lets me know I’m alive.”

I then took Garm in my arms, dipped her back
like the cover of some cheesy romance story, and kissed her as passionately as
I knew how. When we broke apart, Garm smiled and then laughed.

“Wow,” she began, “you haven’t kissed anyone in
a while, have you?”

As I was preparing excuses for my romantic
deficiencies, Garm put her hands behind my head and kissed me on the lips as it
was meant to be done.

Yes, indeed. Good to be alive.