Hard Luck Hank: Prince of Suck by Steven Campbell

least couldn’t say I treated either side
preferentially. This was the outcome I had been planning all along.
    “Fine, tell me the names of those you
want freed. A couple guys are really hurt, so you might want to just let them
go to prison—or maybe you want to set them free. Up to you.”
    “May we see them?” Peush asked.
    “No.”
    Not sure why I said that. I just didn’t
want to deal with it, I guess. I wanted to get them shifted to prison so we
could move on.
    Peush gave me the names of ones who were
apparently higher in the Olmarr Republic hierarchy. Hong gave me names of ones
who had important familial ties.
    I radioed for those to be released and
the others to be prepped for transfer. Everyone was pissed off, but they should
have thought of that before they got into a street fight in front of the
Supreme Kommilaire.
     
    “Boss, your Stair Boys suck,” Valia
said, when we were alone later.
    “Shut up, new guy,” MTB responded.
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “Well, as soon as you were blinded, they
spent about thirty seconds trying to figure out how to break up the fight and
then they just pulled their guns and shot at everyone. I’m surprised more
people weren’t hurt.”
    “It didn’t happen like that at all,” MTB
countered.
    “Then what did happen?” I asked, “Because
I see a lot of gunshot wounds and no injured Stair Boys.”
    “Would it have been better if your own
people were hurt?” he asked, mock surprised.
    “Just give me your view.”
    “Well…” and I could see Valia’s account
wasn’t too far off based on his expression. “Maybe they did panic a bit. It’s
not exactly easy to take a chainsaw from a guy trying to kill another guy who
is wielding a spear.”
    “Yeah,” I conceded. “You think training
would help? I don’t think we’ve ever had any. Not for real.”
    He shrugged.
    “How do you train for Belvaille, Boss?
You learn by doing, as I see it.”
     
    I decided to personally transfer the
prisoners to their final home.
    RW33. The Royal Wing. It was a huge
freighter sitting a short distance from Belvaille.
    Valia was with me in the shuttle, as I
thought it wouldn’t be bad for her to see the process.
    Used to be I hated flying. I would throw
up every single time I entered zero gravity. Now, I loved it. I was weightless!
I could move around and lift my arms with little effort.
    It was only about a fifteen minute trip
total, but it was fun. I felt like a kid again. Though I still had my same
mass, so I had to be careful not to go accelerating myself too much or I could
cause some damage, maybe even wreck our ship.
    The prisoners, two from each gang, were
fairly injured and covered in bandages or lying down. I didn’t even have them restrained.
They seemed resigned to their fates, especially knowing that their leaders had
specifically chosen not to save them. Being picked last for kickball was one
thing, but this was harsh.
    We docked with the freighter.
    Our ship was merely connected to the
side and we were still weightless. This is how we delivered supplies as well.
    We opened a door and there were a series
of sealed hatches ahead. They couldn’t open any of those until we had
disembarked.
    The prisoners were helped out and into
the first compartment. I went with them.
    “Where are you going?” Valia asked.
    “Sir,” I reminded her.
    “You’re going onto the prison ship?” She
was stunned.
    “Yeah, I need to talk to some people.
I’ll be fine.”
    “Are there any Kommilaire on there?
Sir.”
    “Nope. Just prisoners.”
    “How many?”
    “I don’t know. Five thousand? Eight
thousand? I’ll be back in a bit.”
    I closed the doors between us and waited
for the locks. I then opened the next hatch and moved the prisoners over.
Gravity increased gradually at every seal until it matched that of Belvaille.
    I opened the last door.
    Four prisoners were waiting. They were
surprised to see me.
    “New citizens,” I told them.
    They got stretchers and