Hard Luck Hank: Basketful Of Crap - Plot & Excerpts
There wasn’t much I could do. It seemed the high-explosive shell had lodged enough metal into my muscles that I was lacerated like an insect in a collection case. I tried to move my left hand to get my tele. The splinters dug into me with each twitch and I gave up. Just lying here wasn’t incredibly painful as long as I didn’t move and took shallow breaths. Maybe they would sweep me out with a broom after a while. My feet seemed to be fine. I could wiggle my toes without pain. That was a slight triumph since it proved my new boots worked. The center of my chest, which had been blocked by my autocannon, also mostly escaped injury. I had turned my face down when I fired so my chin and nose were cut up as well as the top of my head. It felt like I lay there for an hour, though I doubt it was that long. I reached the conclusion that the soldiers weren’t going to do anything about me. Why should they, I wasn’t exactly a threat. I was going to have to use my tele. I carefully shifted my hand to my pocket.
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