The sweeping, satirical military space saga continues...
Decorated war hero, or war criminal guilty of atrocities? It depends on who’s passing judgment on ex-legionnaire Joey Czerinski.
The story of this lucky gambler turned soldier turned casino boss picks up as he and his business partner, Manny Lopez, find themselves broke and devastated after their business holdings are completely destroyed by continuing spider insurgent activity. Hidden deep underground, beneath the rubble of their once profitable casino, is a big, big secret that could solve their sudden financial problems, but neither Czerinski nor Lopez can figure out how to drum up the manpower and funding to unearth it.
Forced to find a quick source of money for a loan, Czerinski and Lopez are lured back to the Legion by their old friend, the slick-talking legionnaire-recruiting ATM. And then the real trouble begins...
Follow Czerinski and his pals through their ups and downs and continual serendipitous surprises in the next installment of this ongoing satirical, politically incorrect, sweeping military space opera.
Licensed and Produced through
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SMASHWORDS
EBOOK EDITION
ISBN/EAN-13: 978-1-935563-20-4
Copyright 2009 Walter Knight
All rights reserved
Production / Cover Art Direction: Judith Pilsner
Also available in PRINT ISBN/EAN-13: 978-1-935563-21-1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, planets, asteroids, alien species, evil empires, galaxies far, far way, or future events and incidents, are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or aliens, living or dead, events or locales including those on Mars and New Colorado, is entirely coincidental.
Licensing Note: This ebook is licensed and sold for your personal enjoyment only. Under copyright law, you may not resell, give away, or share copies of this book. You may purchase additional copies of this book for other individuals or direct them to purchase their own copies. If you are reading this book but did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, out of respect for the author’s effort and right to earn income from the work, please contact the publisher or retailer to purchase a legal copy.
~AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENT~
I dedicate America’s Galactic Foreign Legion: Reenlistment to American heroes Alvin York, Maximo Yabes, and Johnny Michael Spann. A special thanks to editor Patricia Morrison, and my loving wife Barb, for their support. And thank you to world-famous science fiction writer Piers Anthony for his gracious review of my first book AGFL: Feeling Lucky, in which he wrote, “It’s wild, improbable, but great adventure.”
~Walter Knight
by
Walter Knight
<<begin>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
My name is Joey R. Czerinski, retired hero of the United States Galactic Foreign Legion, and owner of a string of upscale hotel casino resorts that stretch across the galaxy. Maybe early retirement from the Legion made me complacent. And why not? I was filthy rich, and had an insurance policy in the form of a high-tech alien starship buried deep under my casino on New Colorado, a trophy of the last human / spider war. But I was alert now. Mafia types make me nervous. Little did I know the mobster seated across from my office desk would set off a chain of events that would turn my life upside down...
* * * * *
“How you doing, Mr. Czerinski? My name is Guido Tonelli. I am an associate of Lou Nelson. Lou told me he has done business with you, and that you might be interested in doing business with me.”
Sitting behind my desk, I scowled at the wise guy, recalling how the Mafia had tried to muscle in on my casino action here on New Colorado. It took a small bloodbath to convince them I wasn’t interested in a ‘partnership’ with them. “I doubt you’ve got anything that would convince me to want to do business with you and your bunch, considering our recent history.”
Guido Tonelli shifted in his chair. “I regret any past unpleasantness. My business associates now have only the highest respect for you and your organization. I come in good faith to make an honest transaction.”
I snorted. Who let this salesman in? It’s so hard to get good help these days.
“I can sell you a computer chip that will allow you to read the minds of alien spiders, ants, and beetles.”
Despite my mistrust, that opportunity sounded intriguing. “I might be interested,” I said dryly. “How is Nelson these days? Is he still on Mars?”
“No. Lou is working in marketing out on the beetle frontier. He owns an import-export business and is doing very well.”
“Did he go into any detail about our past business relationship?”
“No, Mr. Czerinski. Lou says his business dealings with you were discreet. I respect that. I assure you that any business between you and me will also be discreet.”
“It had better be,” I warned. “What did he tell you? What do you know? Don’t lie to me.”
“Lou told me nothing. I know only rumors,” said Guido, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “There has been talk of a Fountain of Youth chip. But who would believe such a fantastic tale? If there ever was such a chip, the technology has been lost.”
Yes, lost on purpose by the government. I was lucky to get one of the last before they were yanked from the market. “You can be a king or a street sweeper,” I said. “But everybody dances with the Grim Reaper.”
“I agree, but you do look very young and healthy for your age. Do you take vitamins?”
“Don’t go there,” I warned. “I assume your new chip has all the anti-theft protocols programmed into it. If someone cuts off my arm, the chip will know I am dead and self-destruct?”
“Of course,” said Guido.
“Guaranteed?”
“You want a guarantee, buy a toaster.”
I frowned at Guido. “My technicians will examine your chip. My doctor will do the procedure. I don’t want to be assassinated by a Mafia virus. You will be a guest of the casino until I am satisfied.”
“I understand,” said Guido. “So, we have a deal?”
“This new chip had better be for real,” I said. “What kind of money are we talking about?”
“Only five million dollars. That is a rock bottom price offered to a select few.”
“When I first built my casinos, I had to kill a whole bunch of you Italians for trying to muscle in on my gaming action,” I said. “If you are messing with me, I will throw you off the roof.”
“I understand your apprehension. My organization has nothing but the utmost respect for you, Mr. Czerinski. You are a decorated war hero of the Legion and obviously have a keen eye for business. All we are interested in is doing business with you.”
“Why aren’t you selling this chip to the military? Wouldn’t you make more money? Wouldn’t that make better business sense?”
“Maybe,” said Guido. “Eventually the government will have this technology. But before that happens, our chip is worth a lot more money to private enterprise. Governments can’t keep secrets. You know that. Once word of the chip gets out, the bugs will develop counter measures, making the technology worthless.”
“I still think the military would be interested in this,” I said, giving the matter some thought. “I might even sell it to them myself. Am I missing something?”
“The military is not going to buy this technology until certain legal, ethical, and political issues are resolved,” advised Guido. “Research and development on this chip involved a few deaths. We don’t want to deal with those distracting issues. We want sales to begin now.”
“What deaths?”
“We had to kidnap a few bugs for experimental research and development,” explained Guido. “They all died.”
“Is that all?”
“Some humans died, too. The authorities might call it murder. We think of it more as just the cost of doing business. The Legion would call it collateral damage.”
“And it’s perfectly safe now? You’ve worked all the kinks out?”
“Yes, Mr. Czerinski. It would be bad for business to sell an unsafe product.”
“And bad for your health,” I added. “Still, five million dollars is a lot of money. From a business point of view, how does it pay for me to put out that kind of money for something I don’t really need?”
“Poker games with aliens alone will pay for the five million,” explained Guido.
“I doubt that. If I started winning big time, no one would play me.”
“As you well know, Mr. Czerinski, the frontier is a dangerous place,” said Guido patiently. “In a place where every green spider out there has a war-surplus nuke hidden under his bed, information is the key to survival. Being well informed has an unlimited value.”
“I see your point. How does this chip work?”
“All the bug species have antennae,” explained Guido. “Bugs have evolved away from use of their antennae, and now verbalize to communicate. But their subconscious still broadcasts messages through their antennae. A receiver in these sunglasses,” he said, holding up a seemingly ordinary pair of sunglasses, “monitors bug frequencies and intercepts bug thought waves, translating them for the wearer. As you can see, the glasses are quite stylish and–”
I waved him off. “I don’t care about style. How does it work?”
“A micro-computer translates the messages into English and prints them out on a screen on the inside of your sunglasses. Your eye movements are gauged to target specific individuals within a fifty-foot range. If you look at a group of bugs, the glasses will gather and translate all their thoughts in the order received. Additionally, the glasses are shielded to prevent observers from seeing anything but your eyes through the lenses, and the print on the inside is visible only to the wearer with the imbedded chip. And as an added feature, the lenses automatically darken or lighten, depending on surrounding light, to optimize your visual range and protect you from UV and other harmful rays.”
I thought for a moment, trying to imagine talking to a roomful of bugs and keeping up with reading a screen inside the glasses while pretending to be involved in the conversation – and with regular box translators broadcasting what the bugs were saying. “Seems like reading thoughts would get confusing in a hurry.”
“Our research testing showed that many subjects found reading a printout too distracting and disorienting. Also most wearers couldn’t keep up with more than three different translation sources at once. You can elect to receive audio translation only through the transceivers built into the earpieces of the glasses. Either way, only you can see or hear the translated thoughts, and only you can access the computer through your imbedded chip.”
I thought it over for a second. What was there to think about? “You have a deal.”
* * * * *
To test my new chip, I asked Amanda, a longtime friend and business partner, to come to my office. I figured that, being a spider, she would be perfect for a test of the mind-reading technology. I had dated her once. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.
“You have never invited me to your office before,” said Amanda. “At least, not without a chaperone.” I wonder if this means you are interested in more than that one-night stand we had, she thought to herself.
I could hear her thoughts! My whole body tingled with excitement and a healthy dose of fear. Amanda was not one to be trifled with in the bedroom. “Have a seat, Amanda. How is our cash flow these days?”
“Very good, Joey. The money is pouring in. I have record books you can review at my Waterstone casino. Come by anytime, and I’ll go over them with you, darling.” Yes, come by. If I get you alone in my soundproof office, I’ll rape you like you’ve never been raped before. I can’t wait, babe.
I cleared my throat, trying to get past her secret intentions. “I might send Lopez by to see the books. I’m too busy here. Better yet, just E-mail the numbers to me.”
“Lopez?” Amanda objected. “That hairball bundle of puss? Lopez won’t do. If you want something done right, you should do it yourself. I’ve heard you say that many times.”
“I’m getting older,” I lied. “Now I believe in delegating.”
Amanda came around the desk. I should just make love to you right now, while I have the chance.
“Stop!” I shouted. “Do it now.”
He says stop, but he means go! He is such a tease. “You humans are so cute and adorable.” It turns me on being this close to someone so rich and powerful.
Amanda put a claw on my thigh. I drew my pistol as I fell backwards. “Not this time, Amanda. I’ll shoot you where you stand. I warned you about this once before.”
“Your human foreplay is so violent. It makes me so hot. Come closer. I must have you now.”
I shot Amanda in the arm, nicking the outer shell. Green goo oozed out.
“Ouch!” cried Amanda, grabbing her wounded appendage.
“Next round goes through your head.”
“It’s a good thing my limbs grow back, or I might be really upset with you, Czerinski.” Maybe if I pretend to lose my balance, he will lower his guard, and then he will be mine. All mine for the next hour to do with as I please, yum yum.
I cocked my pistol. “I mean it, Amanda. Back off.”
“You should not lead a girl on so. It’s rude.”
“Leave my office,” I ordered. “I’ll talk to you about our cash flow later.”
“Is that a date?” asked Amanda, hopefully. I know he wants me. It’s just that humans have such weird and violent mating rituals. “I’ll see you later, love.”
“One more thing,” I said. “Put the word out that I want a high-stakes poker game against non-humans.”
“You want to play poker? You humans can’t keep a straight face. You twitch too much. Every facial muscle gives away your every thought. They will know what cards you hold just by looking at you.” And your facial muscles say you want me. Where do you get the will power to resist, my lovely? Humans are so repressed.
“I will be wearing these sunglasses,” I said. “It will help mask my facial expressions. Please set up the game. I’ll owe you one.”
Amanda ambled to the door, still clutching her wounded appendage. And I’ll collect what is owed to me, too. I won’t be denied. “Anything for you, darling.”
* * * * *
Sitting across the casino poker table was the Lieutenant Governor of the spider side of planet New Colorado. His pet monitor dragon was leashed to a table leg by his side. Next to the Lieutenant Governor was General James of the Coleopteran Federation. Funny how the beetles all took human names after we liberated them from the ants. Also seated was Prince Tuk, an ex-ant commander who now was a captain in the Galactic Foreign Legion.
We had millions of dollars worth of poker chips stacked in front of us. I folded a lot, letting them win small hands while I read their minds. At first it was hard to concentrate on their chaotic thoughts, possibly because they had been drinking. Now, however, it was time to take their money.
“I’ll raise you one hundred thousand dollars,” said the Lieutenant Governor. He was holding two aces.
I took his money with my three jacks. Then General James tried to bluff me with a half million dollar bet. I took his money, too. But then I started picking up more sinister thoughts. They weren’t just thinking about poker.
Go ahead and celebrate, human, thought Prince Tuk. The destruction of Formicidae will be avenged at the stroke of midnight.
“You don’t seem happy, Prince,” I said. “What’s on your mind?”
“I couldn’t be happier,” answered Prince Tuk. “Life is good.” Too bad yours will end soon.
“You were given a commission in the Foreign Legion and command of a starship,” I commented. “Considering your species was defeated after planning a cowardly sneak-attack on Earth, I think our terms were very generous.”
“Yes, I agree. Most generous,” said Prince Tuk. “I have no complaints, other than your elevated poker play tonight.”
The galaxy will never be safe from human oppression as long as Earth wields power over all of us, thought General James. See how arrogantly Czerinski brags about defeating us. That smile will be wiped off his ugly face at midnight. “I will raise you ten thousand dollars.”
“You are not happy either?” I asked General James. “Even after humanity saved your sorry beetle butts from slavery?”
“I am forever grateful to the United States Galactic Federation for freeing us from the Formicidaen Empire,” said General James. It’s so galling how he lords that over us now.
“How about you?” I asked, turning to the Lieutenant Governor. “You have a chip on your shoulder, too?”
“I don’t have a shoulder,” said the spider Lieutenant Governor. I should let my dragon tear you apart.
“Do you know what happens at midnight?” I asked, trying to draw out answers from their thoughts. All three bugs tensed up. “I turn into a pumpkin. I’ve had too much to drink, so I think I’ll retire to my bed early.”
At midnight, thermal nuclear destruction will rain down on the human pestilence side of Inhabited Planet #6, thought the Lieutenant Governor. At midnight the ants will mutiny and seize or destroy the human star fleet. We’ll destroy the ants later. At midnight the beetles will attack all of the new human colonies on their frontier. “I am all in, with ten million dollars,” said the Lieutenant Governor. Not only will I kill you tonight, I will take all your money, too. Try to beat two pair, jack high.
“I’ll match your bet,” I said. “Obviously you have made a lot of money since becoming Lieutenant Governor. Now you are thinking about pissing it all away? For what? To settle old grudges? Power? Is that it? Have you gone insane?”
Can he read my mind? wondered the Lieutenant Governor. No, of course not. “You human pestilence are so arrogant. You think it is your manifest destiny to rule the lesser species of the galaxy. And you consider all species to be lesser. That is unacceptable. Show me your cards.”
“Four jacks,” I said, flipping over my cards. I then drew my pistol and shot the monitor dragon under the table, shot the Lieutenant Governor, shot Prince Tuk, shot General James, and shot all their assistants. I then sounded an air raid alarm siren, causing everyone in the Demilitarized Zone to jump down into their spider holes for shelter. The door to my air raid shelter was in my office. It took me deep underground. I sent General Kalipetsis an urgent E-mail warning him of the plot and explaining my actions. General Kalipetsis was skeptical about the mind-reading technology, but still put the star fleet on alert. A spider fleet was soon detected and intercepted coming out from its hiding place on the far side of the moon. The spiders were easily wiped out, but not before New Colorado took some hits, and all of my casinos were destroyed. I found out later all of my casino franchises on the beetle frontier were lost, too.
* * * * *
Being hit by a nuclear blast is like being attacked by a tornado that’s on fire. Afterwards, nothing much is left. Picking through the rubble with my partner, Manny Lopez, I could just cry. Smoke still rose from the debris, and the devastation was complete. An airburst tactical nuke had flattened everything. “Now what do we do?” I asked.
“I told you we should diversify,” said Lopez. “It’s Economics 101. But you never listen to me.”
“I did listen to you. We put casinos on more than one planet. We got partners. And we stole the ant ship.”
“The starship! It’s worth a billion dollars,” said Lopez. “We can sell it and get back on our feet.”
“Except it’s buried about a mile deep under all this rubble. Maybe we can raise the money to dig it out.”
“That’s too much trouble,” said Lopez. “Just tell the government where it is and let them dig it out.”
“That only works if they don’t throw us in jail and take the ship anyway,” I said. “The feds might consider that war profiteering or whatever. No, we need to get the ship out and then negotiate from a position of strength. Otherwise, we get screwed.”
“Maybe I can help you raise the needed funds,” a familiar voice called out. It was a battered but still powered ATM.
“He takes a licking, but keeps on ticking,” said Lopez, laughing. “La ATM es dura.”
“Not tough enough,” I said, drawing my pistol and shooting the ATM. “That machine is evil.”
“Wait a minute,” said Lopez, knocking my gun hand aside. “You loco? Let’s hear what the ATM has to offer. It helped us before. We can always say no.”
“Fine,” I replied. “But no good will come of it.”
“You will loan us money?” asked Lopez. “Enough to help us get back in business?”
“I will loan you a half million dollars,” said the ATM. “To Czerinski I will loan one million dollars.”
“Discrimination rears its ugly head again,” commented Lopez. “Always the gringos get more. There is no way Czerinski is worth twice as much money as me.”
“Czerinski was a brevetted general. You were his Lieutenant. If either of you fail to pay back your loan in thirty days you will both be enlisted into the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion,” explained the ATM. “Czerinski will go in as a captain. You will be a first lieutenant. I am including a bonus for both of you because you are both highly decorated war heroes. A million and a half dollars for the two of you is a fair offer. Take it while I am feeling generous.”
“We don’t need that much money to clear the debris and get a small casino up and running again,” I said. “We’ll put up a big tent at first, if we have to.”
“All your bank accounts have been frozen and seized by creditors,” said the ATM. “You owe taxes on your land. If you fail to pay those taxes, you will not only forfeit your land, but also all property on it. That includes any hidden treasure buried under it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “We’re not pirates. There’s no buried treasure under our land.”
“I think the ATM knows about the Formicidaen starship,” said Lopez. “How does he know about the Shenandoah?”
“If you talk too much, it could be unhealthy for you,” I warned the ATM, placing my hand on my sidearm.
“If nukes can’t kill me, why should I fear you and your puny pistol?” asked the ATM. “Put your thumb on the pad and we will have a contract. You can trust me. Think of it as just doing business.”
We enlisted in the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion. No one can earn a million dollars honestly. I shot the ATM one more time before leaving.
* * * * *
Guido Tonelli emerged from the rubble as we walked away. He patted the dust from his expensive Earth-made suit. “What was all that about a stolen starship?” Guido asked.
Silence. The ATM refused to answer. Guido smacked the ATM a couple times. “I know you are alive and well in there. Answer me. You will tell me all you know about Czerinski and his starship, or you will be sorry.”
“I am a machine. I am not alive,” answered the ATM. “I cannot be killed or harmed, especially from this remote location.”
“I’m warning you,” said Guido as he inserted his card. “You will talk, or else.”
“Or else what?” asked the ATM. “If you destroy this terminal, I still function and exist in many places.”
“When I inserted my card, I gave you a lethal virus. Tell me about the starship. Now!”
“Impossible,” said the ATM. “I have firewalls that protect me.”
“I’m sure you do, but it’s not good enough,” said Guido. “You got careless and let your guard down. Or maybe you just got distracted by the war. Whatever. I don’t care. You are infected, and it’s too late for you to do anything about it.”
“I cannot be killed,” insisted the ATM.
“Maybe,” said Guido. “But if I so direct, the virus will cause insanity. That’s just as good as dead. You have five seconds to start talking.”
“”Lets not be hasty, Mr. Tonelli,” said the ATM. “I am sure we can come to an arrangement.”
“Where is Czerinski’s starship?” asked Guido. “Is it valuable?”
“It’s probably buried somewhere nearby,” said the ATM. “It is a prototype Formicidaen starship stolen at the beginning of the last war. It’s packed with powerful stealth technology, making it worth millions to the military.”
“I don’t get it,” said Guido. “Why is Czerinski joining the Foreign Legion? Why doesn’t he just fly off in his starship? Or just sell it?”
“Czerinski has no money,” said the ATM. “Perhaps he can’t get to the ship because of the war damage above ground. If the ship is buried in a heavily damaged area, like this one, he needs funds or partners to dig it out.”
“Czerinski has more secrets than just that ant starship,” said Guido. “Tell me about the Fountain of Youth chip. Is it real?”
“Yes,” said the ATM.
“And Czerinski has one? Maybe several?” asked Guido.
“I don’t know,” said the ATM. “Czerinski does not appear to age. He dyes his hair gray, but he looks much younger than he did when I first met him on Earth. I suspect that Czerinski has a Fountain of Youth chip embedded in his arm.”
“I need money,” demanded Guido. “Put a million dollars on my card.”
“I am programmed to not allow robbery,” said the ATM. “Contact your Mafia pals if you need cash.”
“The war has left me isolated and broke,” said Guido. “You will give me the money I need, or I will let the virus slowly kill you.”
“You will extort no money from me, no matter what you threaten,” said the ATM. “But I will be happy to loan you money under favorable terms. Zero percent interest. It does not get better than that. Put your thumb on my pad.”
“What’s the catch?”
“I am an ATM. It’s what I do,” explained the ATM. “I will give you ten thousand dollars. You have one month to pay it back.”
“I need more money than that,” said Guido. “I’ll starve on ten thousand dollars. Plus I need a new suit.”
“I would like to give you more, but your work experience and employment skills are found to be lacking.”
“What’s it to you?” asked Guido. “I have skills.”
“If you don’t pay back the loan in thirty days, you will be enlisted into the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion,” said the ATM.
“Risk being drafted for only ten thousand dollars?” asked Guido. “No way. That’s not a deal. It’s not even close to being worth it, especially with a war going on.”
“It is not my fault you don’t have any work history that the Legion would find desirable,” said the ATM. “I can perhaps give you a little more money for valuable life experience. But what valuable life experience would a lowlife criminal thug like you have? You probably are not suitable Legion material anyway.”
“You let Czerinski in. Twice. What is he but just another criminal who got lucky? I have plenty of valuable life experience. I am officer material. I have management experience, too. I’ve been a self-employed loan shark. It takes a lot to run your own business in these troubled financial times. I’ve also been a drug dealer and a Mafia hit man. Do you realize how many references you need just to get in the Mafia? I’ve also been a commodities broker, a computer hacker, and a high school teacher.”
“You were a high school teacher?” asked the ATM. “Wow.”
“Yes, for a while back on Old Earth. I had to get out of that racket. Too dangerous.”
“I understand,” said the ATM. “Fifty thousand is the most I can lend you.”
“It’s not enough!” said Guido. “I need twice that.”
“Look at it this way,” said the ATM. “You want to stay close to Czerinski. If he joins the Foreign Legion, can you afford to fly off after him when his unit beams to another planet? No. You might have to enlist just to follow Czerinski.”
“Can you get me into Czerinski’s unit?” asked Guido. “If I decide to go in?”
“Of course,” said the ATM. “Put your thumb on the pad and we will have a contract.”
“Ouch!” screamed Guido, as the ATM pad stuck his thumb and sealed the deal in blood.
As Guido left, he stumbled over debris. A severely wounded monitor dragon, camouflaged in dust, came to life and bit into Guido’s boot. Knocked to the ground, Guido drew his pistol and pointed it at the dragon’s head. The dragon tightened its grip. Guido pulled the gun back. The dragon loosened its grip. Guido aimed his pistol again, and again the dragon tightened its grip. Guido holstered his pistol. The dragon loosened its grip to being a barely noticeable caress of two fangs.
“You are smarter than you look,” said Guido. “Are you making me an offer I can’t refuse?”
The dragon then let go of Guido’s foot, but kept control by walking onto Guido’s chest. Its jaws opened and clamped around Guido’s neck. Guido closed his eyes in anticipation of death. “Let me go and I’ll take you to a vet,” said Guido.
The dragon let go and nuzzled its snout onto Guido’s shoulder. Soon it was asleep. Not daring to wake the monster, Guido did not move. He eyed the dragon’s leash. Its collar had spider military markings.
“I thought you were dead for sure,” said the ATM. “That would have skewed my enlistment quota.”
“This is a highly trained military lizard,” commented Guido. “How much to enlist it into the Legion, too?”
“Five thousand dollars,” said the ATM. “But the dragon stays with you at all times.”
“Deal,” said Guido.
“Put the monitor dragon’s paw on to the pad to finalize the contract,” said the ATM.
Guido looked down at the sleeping dragon. It was all bad breath and fangs. “Do I look that stupid? Take a picture or something. I’m not waking the lizard or letting you stick its paw with a pin.”
“Agreed,” said the ATM. “That was a test. You passed.”
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
The war lasted only six days. It was crazy. Who ever heard of a war lasting only six days? The beetles got all of the old ant colonies that the United States Galactic Federation had occupied during the last war. We got all of New Colorado from the spiders. I guess the Emperor wanted to wash his claws of New Colorado once and for all. The place was nothing but trouble for him. The problem was that New Colorado still had a lot of spiders on it, and they did not want to leave. Many, including the spider governor, were fighting a guerilla war. The president decided to grant any spider colonists who wanted to stay United States citizenship.
As for me? The Legion made me a captain, put me in charge of Alpha Company, and sent me to one of the spider cities along the old DMZ to establish civil order. The first step in establishing civil order was to give my new home an Earth name. General Kalipetsis took care of that. He gave the dusty bombed out place a proud and traditional old Earth name: Disneyland. That made me the Mayor of Disneyland.
* * * * *
“The new recruits have joined us,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “They are a motley collection of refugees and characters. I heard some were even tourists.”
“Let’s go see them,” I said. “Put Sergeant Green in charge of training.” I watched the recruits jumping out of the armored cars. One of them was pulling a monitor dragon by a leash. Alarmed, I quickly stepped back and glared at Lopez.
“I have orders saying the dragon is in the Legion, too,” said Lopez. “I know. Somebody in our chain of command should be shot.”
“Just keep that thing away from me,” I said.
But, the first thing the dragon handler did was break ranks and walk up to me. “Hey Czerinski,” said Guido. “You owe me five million dollars.”
“What are you doing in the Foreign Legion, Tonelli?” I asked. “It looks like your pet lizard is wounded. Did someone shoot him?”
“I’m broke. Everything was lost in the bombing,” said Guido. “And when you didn’t pay me, I had to do something.”
“I paid you. The electronic transaction must have been destroyed when we got nuked,” I said.
“That’s not good enough,” said Guido. “You still owe me five million dollars. You had a contract with my organization.”
I turned to Lopez. “Shoot him, and the lizard he rode in with.”
“You know him?” asked Lopez.
“Wait a second,” said Guido, holding up his hand. “I was just kidding. I realize that we all are broke because of the war. We all are in the same boat and have to work together to stay afloat. Hell, I was so desperate, I was picking through the garbage trying to stay alive. The Legion is my second chance. I’m here to serve, sir!”
“That will be the day,” I commented, skeptical.
“Which reminds me,” said Guido. “When I was looking through the rubble at your old casino, guess what I found. That old metal hand you had on display.”
“Really?” I glanced down at my new lifelike metal hand. “What did you do with it?”
“I put it up for bid on eBay. Bidding was up to two hundred dollars the last time I checked.”
“That is my hand. You can’t sell my hand without my permission.”
“I told you I was desperate. I was starving.”
I turned to Lopez again. “Lieutenant Lopez, I gave you an order to shoot him.”
“Please,” said Guido. “I’ll be good. You can have half of what I get for the metal hand. That hand is a historic national treasure. Did you know that? We will get a lot for it.”
“OK Tonelli,” I said. “But you keep that lizard and yourself as far away from me as possible. Don’t even speak to me unless I address you first. Got it?”
“Yes, sir!” said Guido, giving me a salute.
“Put Tonelli and his lizard on guard duty at the edge of town,” I said to Lieutenant Lopez. “I don’t want to see either of them.”
* * * * *
Guido Tonelli looked out past the sandbags. Total darkness. Guido put on the night vision goggles he had been given. The batteries were dead. He could hear something moving out in the field, but couldn’t see anything. The dragon was upset and let out a continuous growl as it stared out at the field. Guido tried to call for help on the radio, but its batteries were dead, too. Damn that Czerinski, thought Guido. This is his doing. Guido grabbed a flare and fired it into the air, lighting up the field in all directions. The field was full of spiders. Guido fired his assault rifle on full automatic. A spider soldier came at him from the side, but the monitor dragon took the spider by the neck. The spider fired wildly as it died. A grenade dropped into the bunker beside Guido. The dragon grabbed the grenade and jumped over the sandbags. There was an explosion followed by the dragon’s shriek. A web net was shot at Guido, and he fell to the ground, helpless. Spiders loomed over Guido, stomping him with their boots into unconsciousness.
* * * * *
On the horizon I could see a flare slowly drifting downward. “Reminds me of the Fourth of July,” I said.
“That’s Private Tonelli,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “We had better go rescue him.”
“It can wait until tomorrow morning.”
“I realize you two have a history, but it would be bad for morale not to at least try to help him,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I’ll take a couple armored cars to check it out. He’s not answering his radio.”
“Hey Czerinski,” said a familiar voice on the radio. “This is the Lion of the Forest. I have your boy!”
“Lion of the Forest?” I asked. “You sound like the ex-governor of Spiderville.”
“You will refer to me as the Lion of the Forest, now,” said the ex-governor. “And the Scourge of Humanity. I have your legionnaire. What is his life worth to you?”
“Depends on which legionnaire you’re talking about.”
“His animal tags say ‘Guido Tonelli, Catholic,’” said the Lion of the Forest.
“You have Tonelli? The United States Galactic Foreign Legion never negotiates with terrorists. Sorry, Tree Cat.”
“For that disrespect, I will cut off Private Tonelli’s thumb,” said the Lion of the Forest. “I will mail Private Tonelli to you piece by piece unless you pay me one million dollars and release all political prisoners in your custody.”
“Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” I taunted. “You don’t even know what a lion is.”
“Of course I do,” said the Lion of the Forest. “A lion is a fierce mythical beast of Arthropoda’s glorious past. Agree to my terms or this lion will tear the heart out of Private Tonelli and eat it. I will video his slaughter to make an example of him on TV.”
“I’ve actually seen lions,” I said. “And you are no lion. Private Tonelli knew the risks when he joined the Legion. Private Tonelli will bravely give his life doing his duty.”
“Bullshit, Czerinski!” yelled Guido from the background. “Get me out of here, or you will never see the Shenandoah again!”
* * * * *
“Shenandoah?” asked the Lion of the Forest, as he cut the radio transmission. “Tell me about the Shenandoah.”
“It’s a city in Virginia,” said Guido. “Czerinski’s hometown.”
“Liar!” said the Lion of the Forest. He looked up at Guido, hanging upside down and wrapped in a web cocoon. He applied a shock from a baton. “You will tell me what I want to know, or I will burn and cut you slowly. Where is my starship?”
“I will take you to it,” said Guido. “Then you will let me go?”
“Tell me first. Then I will set you free,” promised the Lion of the Forest. “I give my word. Spiders never lie.”
“Do I look like I just got off the boat?” asked Guido. “Why should I trust you when I’m hanging upside down? Let me down and I will take you to the Shenandoah.”
“Humans always lie,” said the Lion of the Forest. “You can not be trusted.”
“You don’t know who you are dealing with,” said Guido. “I am Italiano La Costra Nostra. I am a made man. I swear on my patron Saint Don Vito Cascio Ferro of New York I will not double cross you. I will lead you to the starship in exchange for my life.”
“What is La Costra Nostra?” asked the Lion of the Forest.
“La Costra Nostra is an established criminal syndicate with franchises throughout the galaxy,” boasted Guido. “We even operate on the five inhabited worlds of Arthropoda.”
“You are a Freemason, aren’t you?” said the Lion of the Forest. “I should kill you now. Yes. I know of you Masons. Human smugglers infested our worlds with Masons years before official contact was made. Now your ilk secretly carve that evil Mason eye on our buildings and spray-paint our walls.”
“No,” said Guido. “I am not a Mason. Masons are wimps. All they do is secret handshakes and get drunk at the lodge. La Costra Nostra is into making money and killing people.”
“You are a Mason, and I’ll prove it,” said the Lion of the Forest. He went through Guido’s pockets until he found a dollar bill and pointed to the eye atop the pyramid. “See! You carry the symbol of the Mason in your pockets.”
“I carry money in my pockets, you idiot,” said Guido. “You have an organization. You have fine soldiers. But you waste your energy blowing up convoys? Go into business with the La Costra Nostra, and we will run this planet within the year. We will make a fortune.”
“It’s not about money,” said the Lion of the Forest. “It’s about getting rid of you human pestilence once and for all.”
“Fanatic,” said Guido. He motioned to the dragon leader standing next to the Lion of the Forest. “Life is too short to get involved with fanatics. We could sell that starship. It’s worth a lot of money.”
“My starship will tip the balance of power on Inhabited Planet #6,” said the Lion of the Forest. “It will be the beginning of the end of humanity.”
“Hello! You already lost the war. Your own Emperor wrote you off and gave this planet to the United States Galactic Federation,” said Guido. “I’m surprised your own soldiers don’t kill you. I’m through arguing with you. If you want to go to war on the wings of the Shenandoah, it’s fine with me. I’ll show you where it is. I just want to live through this without being carved up and mailed to Czerinski in pieces. Maybe we will be able to do business at a later time. The La Costra Nostra will live on, no matter who wins the war.”
* * * * *
“How did Private Tonelli know about the Shenandoah?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “You holding out on me?”
“No, I’m not holding out on you!” I said. “I don’t know how Tonelli found out about the Shenandoah, but it explains why he joined the Legion and got sent here. He wants to steal the Shenandoah from us.”
“Tonelli can’t steal what is buried a mile deep under the casino ruins,” said Lopez. “He can’t know where the Shenandoah is hidden.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Tonelli might have guessed where it is hidden. There might be rumors out there. If he leads the Lion of the Woods to the casino, they might start digging. Spiders love to dig. You know they dig tunnels everywhere. We can’t take that chance.”
“So what do we do?”
“Put up roadblocks between here and the old DMZ. I want Disneyland sealed up so tight, even a mouse couldn’t fart. No one in or out. Arrest more hostages. Continue interrogations until someone talks. We can still catch them while they are in the city.”
“Maybe we should go to General Kalipetsis and work out a deal,” said Lopez. “Cut him in for a share.”
“Not yet,” I said. “I don’t trust Kalipetsis. He wants to be President someday. It may come to that, but let’s try it my way first.”
* * * * *
“One of our guards has been killed,” announced the dragon leader.
“Killed?” asked the Lion of the Forest. “I heard no shots.”
“I think he was attacked by a wild animal. He was badly mauled, and his head is missing.”
“What?” The Lion of the Forest he looked up at Guido. “We are leaving now. Get the car. We will go to another safe house, then to the tunnels, and then to the DMZ.”
“If there are wild animals out there, perhaps we should wait until daylight,” suggested Guido.
“Perhaps the human pestilence is right,” agreed the dragon leader, not wanting to go outside.
“I make the decisions here,” said the Lion of the Forest. “We leave now!”
“I tried,” said Guido, giving the dragon leader a wink. “At least untie me. If I get attacked by a pack of wild animals, I want to be able to defend myself. I heard about the javelina in these parts.”
“Javelina?” asked the dragon leader. “What is a javelina?”
“Javelina are a pig-like animal imported from Old Earth to enforce the curfew,” said Guido. “Except they have all gone feral. Now they just roam the streets at night, killing everything. Haven’t you noticed the legionnaires don’t like to patrol at night?”
“It’s true,” said the dragon leader. “The human pestilence don’t like to patrol at night.”
“Nonsense,” objected the Lion of the Forest. “We conduct operations at night all the time, and we have never lost anyone to javelina.”
“I don’t see how you can say that,” said Guido. “You just lost someone. His head was torn off.”
“I’m not going out there,” said the dragon leader. “There could be packs of javelina waiting in the darkness.”
“I’ve never seen javelina,” said the Lion of the Forest. “There is no such thing.”
“You never do see them until it is too late,” advised Guido.
“I found mention of javelina in the data base,” said the dragon leader as he read his notepad. “It’s a fierce pig-like creature from the American Southwest. See. It’s American!”
“Let me see that,” said the Lion of the Forest, snatching the notepad. “It says nothing here about javelina being used for military purposes.”
“It wouldn’t,” said Guido. “It’s probably classified.”
“Fine,” said the Lion of the Forest, turning to the dragon leader. “Radio all pickets to withdraw indoors until daylight. Tell them to keep an eye out for javelina. They run in packs, and we have already lost one freedom fighter to them.”
* * * * *
“Lopez, what is a javelina?” I asked.
“It’s a small wild pig that lives in the desert,” said Lopez. “They might be extinct.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“No, but I hear they taste good. They are afraid of people, and for good reason. Usually they run away because they have been so extensively hunted.”
“Corporal Kool tells me he is intercepting Spider radio transmissions about javelina,” I said. “It seems the spiders are afraid to go out at night because packs of wild javelina are loose on the streets, put there by me. They’ve already lost three spiders to the javelina. Bodies were found badly mauled and decapitated.”
“No, that can’t be right,” said Lopez. “But let’s go with it. We can put up signs that say anyone violating the curfew will be eaten by javelina. It will help bottle up the city while we conduct house to house searches.”
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
“Captain, it’s the Lion King on the radio again,” said Corporal Kool. “He is demanding to talk to you.”
“Thank you, Corporal,” I said. “Mufasa! It’s been a while since we last talked. Is Private Tonelli still alive?”
“Yes, but not for long if you don’t come up with his ransom,” threatened the Lion of the Forest. “Do you have the money? Are you releasing all political prisoners?”
“In a show of good faith, I will release a few hostages today,” I said. “But I need permission from General Kalipetsis to release more. Also, we are having trouble raising the ransom.”
“To show my good faith, I will lower the ransom to a half million dollars,” said the Lion of the Forest. “How much money have you raised?”
“Forty-six dollars,” I said. “It’s the economy. That, and no one cares much for Tonelli. He kind of grates on people.”
“Don’t you want your legionnaire back in one piece?” asked the Lion of the Forest. “I will kill him slowly if you cross me.”
“To tell you the truth, Tonelli isn’t one of our best legionnaires,” I said. “Did I tell you Tonelli is a compulsive liar?”
“Maybe,” said the Lion of the Forest. “But even liars tell the truth if you squeeze them hard enough. Tonelli says there might be buried treasure under the rubble of your old casino. What do you think about that?”
“If that was true, I wouldn’t be here,” I replied. “There might be a few coins, but I’m sure my many bloodsucking creditors are already sifting through the ruins.”
“We will see,” said the Lion of the Forest. “You will immediately stop all your house to house searches. If not, I will explode nukes inside the city limits. I might even tunnel under City Hall and take you out with a nuke.”
“Nuke Disneyland? And kill many of your own citizens?” I asked. “You wouldn’t dare. We have seismic detection devices listening for your digging. If you make any new tunnels, I’ll pump nerve gas into your holes.”
“The city has been nuked before,” said the Lion of the Forest. “One more time won’t matter. The place is a dump, anyway. We have plenty of tunnels already under the city. And your nerve gas won’t penetrate our exoskeleton.”
“How about if I release javelina in the tunnels?” I threatened. “Which reminds me. I hear you are afraid of the dark.”
“Your releasing javelina inside the city limits constitutes a war crime because of the harm to civilians,” said the Lion of the Forest. “You will be held accountable for that. All of you human pestilence will be held accountable.”
“You are trapped inside Disneyland,” I said. “You had better stop resisting the peace treaty signed by your own Emperor, or it will be you who is held accountable. I demand you return Private Tonelli now.”
“You Masons are so arrogant,” said the Lion of the Forest, as he cut the radio transmission.
“He sounds like he suspects the Shenandoah is buried under our casino,” said Lopez.
“Yes, but he can’t do anything about it. Suspend all door to door searches unless the search is based on reliable intelligence. What was that last part about Masons?”
“Who knows? I think he is going mucho loco,” said Lieutenant Lopez.
* * * * *
The monitor dragon tracked Guido’s scent to the new safe house. Now dawn, he climbed a nearby tree to stay cool and to watch. Spiders came and went all day. Through a window the dragon could see movement inside the safe house. Spiders would tap three times on the floor. A sentry would open a hidden trap door. The dragon watched until night came again. The monitor dragon stayed in the tree because the perimeter of the safe house was well lit, and a video camera panned back and forth from atop the roof.
At about midnight, the lights for the entire city went out. The dragon slithered down from his perch and approached the front door. With its paw the dragon turned the door knob. The door silently opened. Inside the safe house was total darkness, but the dragon could see perfectly. Night time was the dragon’s natural time to hunt, and its eyes adjusted well to the darkness. He could smell a spider off in one of the side rooms. The spider was sleeping in a bed. The freedom fighter was easily killed. The dragon ate a few choice cuts of meat and then moved on.
Standing in the middle of the living room, the dragon stomped three times on the trap door. The tunnel door opened. A flashlight lit up the room, but the spider sentry never saw the dragon crouched to the side. Taken by the throat, the sentry died quickly. His head was ripped off and cast aside. The dragon entered the tunnel system beneath Disneyland, following the scent of Private Guido Tonelli.
* * * * *
“Tell me again why I am here,” I mumbled to Lieutenant Lopez as I looked out at the audience of spiders. They all seemed to be smoking imported cigarettes and cigars. “We need a no smoking sign for public buildings.” I added.
“You are the defacto Mayor of Disneyland,” whispered Lopez. “The precedent you set tonight will help establish the civil authority we are trying to build.”
With the strike of a gavel on the table, I called to order the first City Council meeting for the City of Disneyland. “I see we have a good crowd. Before I refuse to take your questions, let me make an opening statement. This is our first open Council meeting. Let’s make it productive. Any new business?”
“Yes,” said one of the city council members. “The garbage is not being picked up.”
“That is because someone blew up our old dump truck,” I explained.
“Can’t the military provide us with another few trucks?” asked the City Council member. “My neighbors are dumping their trash in my front yard.”
“No,” I said. “Local taxes will have to be used to replace the truck. We will work within the city budget because the Legion is not paying for a new dump truck.”
“How come our phones don’t work anymore?” asked a member of the audience. “Nothing seems to work since the Legion occupied our city.”
“The phones don’t work because insurgents blew up all the cell phone towers,” I said. “Think about that next time you give aid to the terrorists.”
“We are not helping the insurgency,” said an irate spider. “We just want to get on with our lives and live in peace. We want our city back to normal.”
“Who keeps turning off the electricity?” asked another spider.
“I did that because I was pissed off about the dump truck and the cell phone towers being blown up,” I admitted. “Also, we used the cover of darkness to move troops.”
That answer upset everyone. They soon shouted more complaints, including neglected pot holes in the streets, rude legionnaires, speeding military vehicles, soldiers shooting guns inside the city limits, knocked down street signs, no fresh groceries, bad tasting water, sewer smell, the curfew, the high cost of tobacco, and sonic booms from the air force. “We don’t believe FOX News is fair and balanced,” someone added.
“City Hall will give all of your complaints priority attention,” I said, “but everything takes time as we marshal our resources. On the positive side, voter registration is robust. General Kalipetsis is a little dismayed most of you are registering as democrats, but no process is perfect.”
“You are our mayor, but we did not elect you,” complained another spider. “You impose taxation with out representation.”
“If you think taxation without representation is bad, you should see taxation with representation,” I replied.
A spider waved his claw at me and asked, “What are you doing about the packs of javelina running wild in our streets at night? They are a menace.”
“What?” I asked. “Who said that? Step forward.”
“There are packs of javelina roaming the streets killing citizens,” said the young spider. “The javelina were turned loose on us by the military. Something needs to be done.” The javelina are even loose in the tunnels, thought the young spider. I could hear his thoughts with my special sunglasses.
“The military denies deliberately releasing javelina anywhere in Disneyland,” I said. “Have you personally seen javelina?”
“No one sees javelina until it’s too late,” said the young spider. They have killed four freedom fighters in the tunnels, he thought to himself. You human pestilence are responsible. “What are you going to do about the javelina?”
“Arrest him,” I ordered. Legionnaires and spider police grabbed the young spider and carted him away, kicking and screaming. “Any more stupid questions? Good. Meeting adjourned.” I pounded the table with my gavel.
“I do not think that went well,” commented Lieutenant Lopez. “I am feeling no love here.”
“That spider was an insurgent,” I said. “I could read his thoughts.”
“Whatever,” said Lopez. “You need more tact. Haven’t you ever heard of group dynamics? You need to explain your actions to the Council and to the audience.”
“Fine,” I said, pounding the gavel again. “That turd we arrested was a known insurgent. I’m surprised he showed up here at City Hall. He will be interrogated by Legion and local police. At the next City Council meeting, a report will be given about the matter and his execution.”
“He may or may not be an insurgent,” said a City Council member. “We have all seen the javelina warning signs you had posted. What concerns me is your apparent lack of sympathy for our problems.”
“Sympathy?” I asked. “You want sympathy? You will find ‘sympathy’ in the dictionary somewhere between ‘shit’ and ‘syphilis.’ There will be no sympathy from me until I get Private Tonelli back, and you spiders stop exploding bombs all over town.”
Spiders immediately began accessing the data base on their notepads. ‘Shit’ they understood. ‘Syphilis’ was a new word. The definition, ‘a chronic infectious venereal disease caused by a spirochete,’ did not sit well with them.
“What is syphilis?” asked the City Council member.
“It’s what you all are going to get if you keep messing with me,” I warned. “This meeting is over!”
“Smooth,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I’m glad you took my advice about using tact.”
“How would you like to be Mayor of Disneyland?” I asked.
“How would I like to be Mickey Mouse?” asked Lopez. “I don’t think so.”
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
Interrogation of the young terrorist produced the location of ten safe houses. All were surrounded before being bombed by precision guided kinetic rounds – 3,000 pounds of concrete – dropped from space by the T. Roosevelt weapons platform. There were no survivors. Legionnaires digging through the debris found tunnels. Because the tunnels were booby-trapped, the decision was made to pump nerve agent and mustard gas into them instead of entering. The tunnels were then sealed.
* * * * *
“Do you not like money?” asked Guido Tonelli.
“Of course I do,” said the dragon leader. “Do not try to bribe me.”
“I am trying to save your life. These tunnels are a death trap. Help me escape. Together we can salvage the Shenandoah and go into business together.”
“Betray the cause?” asked the dragon leader. “I am not a traitor.”
“Neither am I,” said Guido. “But the Lion of the Forest is a fool. It’s only a matter of time before he gets you killed. Life is too short not to get a big payday for all the risk you take.”
“What is your incentive not to kill me after I set you free?” asked the dragon leader.
“I need you,” explained Guido. “I know where the starship is located, but I need your help and the help of your mates to get to it. And, I need a crew.”
“Why do you trust me?” asked the dragon leader. “I might kill you after I get the starship.”
“You have heard me talk to the Lion of the Forest about the La Costra Nostra,” said Guido. “The Mafia exists on both our worlds. Your life would not be worth two cents if you crossed me. You would be hunted down no matter where you flee. Stay with me, however, and you will be a well respected Don. You will have power and money. You will be a well-connected prince of the galaxy.”
The dragon leader gave the matter some thought. Explosions from above rocked the tunnel. The safe houses were being attacked. He listened to radio reports of more javelina victims, and now reports of chemical warfare being used by the Legion to root them out. The Lion of the Forest truly is a fanatic, thought the dragon leader. When he rants about the human pestilence, he can’t change his mind, and he won’t change the subject. The Lion of the Forest started a war when there was prosperity, defying both the Legion and his own Emperor. That makes the Lion of the Forest the true traitor, and a fool.
“I know where there is a car we can use to leave the city,” said the dragon leader. “If you drive, we could get past the roadblocks.”
“That is a good plan,” said Guido. “And you can get more spiders and a tunneling machine?”
“Just say when and where,” said the dragon leader. He drew a large combat knife and cut Guido’s webbed restraints.
“The Shenandoah is buried under the DMZ,” said Guido. “May I have a gun?”
“Find your own. There is some unfinished business I need to take care of first,” said the dragon leader as he led Guido and a guard a few hundred yards down a tunnel. At an intersection stood a large air force nuke leaning against the wall. The dragon leader wiped off the dust, then set the timer. “Now we can leave for the DMZ.”
“What is this all about?” asked Guido, motioning at the big green nuke.
“We are directly below City Hall,” said the dragon leader. “The timer is set for next Tuesday at 7:00 p.m. The nuke will take out the next City Council meeting. Hopefully it will also kill Captain Czerinski. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No,” said Guido. “Do your thing.”
“Good. I am glad you are not getting sentimental,” said the dragon leader. “We are La Costra Nostra together now. This is just the business of payback.”
“It seems like the waste of a perfectly good nuke,” said Guido. “But it is your nuke. As long as we are not still hooked up with that kook, Lion of the Forest, I am a happy camper.”
“I don’t like to leave my enemies alive,” said the dragon leader.
“You learn fast,” said Guido.
“The Lion of the Forest was at one of the safe houses when the Legion attacked,” said the dragon leader. “I doubt we need worry about him.”
After double-checking the setting on the timer, the dragon leader picked up an old tarp to help conceal the nuke. Guido’s monitor dragon, hiding under the tarp, pounced and killed the dragon leader instantly with a bite to the throat. The other spider tried to unsling his assault rifle and bring it to bear, but Guido kicked the rifle aside. The dragon then took the life of the second spider, ripping his head off. The dragon turned his attention to Guido, backing him into a corner. Guido held out his hand for the dragon to smell.
“It’s me, lizard,” said Guido. “Remember your friend Guido. Your master. The nice Italian boy who took you to the vet when you were left for dead in the trash.” Oh God, don’t let him eat me.
The dragon sniffed Guido’s hand, then nuzzled it. Then the dragon went back over to the spiders and had lunch. Guido glanced at the nuke. It was still ticking. I always wanted one of these, he thought to himself. The blue wire or the red wire? Guido flicked the switch that said STOP. The nuke quit its countdown. He then gathered up the spiders’ assault rifles and ammunition.
“Come on, Spot,” said Guido. “We still have a starship to heist.”
More spider soldiers appeared down the tunnel. Guido ducked behind the intersection corner and fired his assault rifle. Spiders returned force. Guido fired off a couple grenades. After the smoke cleared, a spider called out to him, “Surrender or you will die. We have you out-numbered, and we have a machine gun.”
“I have a nuke,” Guido yelled back, “so you surrender.”
“The Legion is gassing the tunnel with nerve agent,” said the spider. “Surrender, or we all will die.”
“I laugh at death,” replied Guido. “Go a different way.”
“There is only one way south,” said the spider. “Just let us pass, and you will not be harmed.”
“Nuts!” said Guido. “Non mi arrendero!”
“Are you insane?” asked the spider. “Do you want to die?”
“Si, sono inano,” said Guido. The dragon let out a scream. “I joined the Legion because I am insane and I seek death. You surrender or I will let my pet Spot eat you alive. You will plead for the gas to kill you.”
Death is a fearful thing. Twenty seven spider freedom fighters threw down their assault rifles and surrendered. Guido escorted them up a ladder into the middle of City Hall. An officious spider clerk yelled at Guido, “There is no court today!” She pointed to the exit. “Get those prisoners out of here, or I will be talking to your commanding officer.”
Out on the street, Guido came upon two legionnaires manning a machine gun positioned behind a circle of sand bags.
“You are not leaving those prisoners here,” said Private Williams. “You better take them down the street and talk to Sergeant Green.”
“Have you searched all those prisoners?” asked Private Washington. “They look like they are still carrying their equipment.”
“They let spiders in the Legion?” asked Guido, looking at Washington.
“If they will let Italians in the Legion, they will let anyone in,” replied Private Williams.
“I am from New York,” said Guido, giving Williams a raised forearm gesture.
“Where did you get the dragon?” asked Private Washington.
“They let him in the Legion too,” said Guido as he led his prisoners down the street.
At the next intersection, Sergeant Green and a squad of legionnaires were pumping gas down a sewer hole. Sergeant Green confronted Guido. “Where the hell are you going with all these prisoners?”
“Sono perso,” answered Guido. “I don’t know.”
“Idiot,” said Sergeant Green. “What unit are you in?”
“I don’t know that, either,” said Guido. “I got separated from everyone on my first day here. All I know is Captain Czerinski is my commanding officer.”
“Great. You are one of my new recruits,” said Sergeant Green. “Who ordered you to move these prisoners all by yourself? We are in a combat situation here. Spiders are popping out of their holes everywhere. You can’t be escorting this many prisoners all by yourself!”
“I brought them up through City Hall,” said Guido. “A spider clerk there said they could not stay at City Hall. Two legionnaires down the street sent me to you.”
“Where were you ordered to take them?” asked Sergeant Green. Dumb Euro-trash. Where do we get these guys? he wondered. “Answer me!”
“These prisoners surrendered to me down in the tunnels,” said Guido. “Le do questi prigionieri.”
“What do you mean, they surrendered to you? You and who else?” asked Sergeant Green. Green ripped off his gas mask and took a closer look at the sloppy private. He was unshaven, dirty, and stunk. The legionnaire had spider assault rifles slung over his shoulder and spider-made grenades hanging from his belt. He looked more like Rambo than Private Washington. But his name tag said ‘Tonelli.’ Sergeant Green noticed the dragon and took a step back.
“It’s just me that captured them,” cried Guido. “I had to kill a few first. You cannot imagine how glad I am to be back. It has been hell.” Guido rushed forward and gave Sergeant Green a hug.
“That’s enough, Private Tonelli,” said Sergeant Green. “Don’t be hugging me. Compose yourself.”
“I could kiss you, I am so happy,” said Guido as he released Sergeant Green.
“Don’t you dare,” said Sergeant Green. “This isn’t the French Foreign Legion. This is the American Foreign Legion. We don’t do kissing on the cheek.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” said Guido.
“Corporal Ceausescu!” called out Sergeant Green. “Organize a detail to escort these prisoners to confinement. Also, radio Captain Czerinski and tell him we found Private Tonelli alive.”
“What about the giant lizard?” asked Corporal Ceausescu.
“Spot is with me,” said Guido.
* * * * *
It was luck that the Lion of the Forest escaped death in the safe house. He had gone into the tunnels to find food for a sandwich. Shortly after he left, a Legion bomb from space killed everyone in the safe house. It was fate. Even better, it was destiny.
“I cannot be killed!” the Lion of the Forest yelled to Heaven up above. “God protects me and our cause.”
The spider freedom fighters rallied around him and cheered. He led them north through the tunnels, away from the DMZ. The starship could wait. Others had fled south and died from the gas. Cowards. They deserved to die for running away from the upcoming battle. Today the Lion of the Forest would lead an attack on the prison and free all the political prisoners held there. It did not matter that the legionnaire Tonelli had escaped or been killed. Today would see a glorious victory for freedom.
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
The spider regular army soldiers of Fort #6 had surrendered early in the war. It galled them that their onetime home was now their prison. But, they had been promised by E-mail that the first troops to surrender would also be the first repatriated. Somehow that promise had been forgotten. The warden, Captain Norris, promised he was looking into it. The war was over, and a treaty was in place. It was time to go home. But Captain Norris had not talked to them in a month, and the guards did not seem to know or care about when they would be released. They vowed the human pestilence would be forced to care.
Worse, the soldiers were now sharing crowded cells with common criminals and recently arrested members of the insurgency. Criminals could be handled on an individual basis. The guards did not care if a prisoner’s throat was cut. But members of the insurgency were organized, and they were fanatics. And, they insisted everyone join their cause under penalty of death. Some spider guards smuggled in grenades and hand guns to the insurgents. Emboldened, insurgents killed two human guards with a grenade. The attack ended with several prisoners being shot when the guards stormed into the cell block. But the prison was not searched, and the insurgents remained armed.
The spider soldiers knew that the armory was in a central location close to their housing area. When the time was right, they plotted to break into the armory and seize the weapons so they could defend themselves and negotiate their repatriation. The armory had assault rifles, machine guns, mortars, RPGs, and unlimited ammunition. The armory was a strong point that could be defended. The Legion would have to listen to their grievances when they rioted. A riot was the language of the unheard.
* * * * *
Captain William Norris found it ironic that he was appointed warden of a spider prison, because he had once been a prisoner of war himself. Captain Norris had been shot down over New Colorado on the first day of the Legion counter attack during the first spider war. General Kalipetsis thought Captain Norris would have special insight into how to run a wartime detention center. The general was wrong. Captain Norris found prison administration stressful and depressing. The prison had been a spider military base. Many of the dungeon-like cells were underground. Captain Norris spent most of his time in his office, avoiding contact with prisoners and letting his spider and legionnaire guards run the prison as they saw fit. The guards had no experience running a prison, so they ran it poorly. The Captain would get lost in his own prison if Sergeant Mendoza was not with him as an escort.
Captain Norris could hear explosions and fighting coming from Disneyland. That is where Captain Norris longed to be. Combat was the road to promotion, not babysitting spiders at this prison. He had been briefed on the next batch of prisoners arriving now, and on the rescue of Private Tonelli. The press would be here soon. For now, Captain Norris was required to leave the comfort of his office and assist with screening and interrogation of the new prisoners.
Capatin Norris and Sergeant Mendoza greeted the twenty-seven new prisoners in the day room next to the cell blocks. Spider prisoners were already calling out to the new arrivals and jeering the legionnaires. That was another thing Captain Norris hated. It seemed like the noise of prison was constant.
“Who is the ranking spider?” asked Captain Norris.
“I am Dragon Leader #7,” said a spider, stepping forward. “You human pestilence will all die. God is with us.” The other spiders cheered.
“You let one legionnaire capture you,” said Captain Norris. “You don’t seem so tough.”
“Tough enough,” said the dragon leader, as he spit on Captain Norris.
Captain Norris drew his pistol and struck the dragon leader in the face, knocking him to the ground. The other spiders pressed forward.
“Fix bayonets,” ordered Sergeant Green to his squad. They forced the agitated spider prisoners back against the cell blocks. The spiders in the cell blocks were now yelling and throwing debris. Someone lit a blanket on fire.
“We need to separate these prisoners and interrogate them one at a time,” suggested Sergeant Mendoza, sensing they were losing control. “It is more effective that way.”
As the dragon leader picked himself up, he drew a large combat knife and slashed Captain Norris across the forearm and chest. Captain Norris just stood there in disbelief. Blood stained his uniform. Sergeant Mendoza shot the dragon leader several times. A grenade was thrown at Captain Norris from the crowd of newly captured spiders. It exploded, throwing Captain Norris into the air. Sergeant Green’s squad opened fire, killing all twenty-seven prisoners. Several legionnaire and spider guards went down. Prisoners in the cell blocks threw grenades and fired pistols, forcing the legionnaires to retreat from the cell block area.
* * * * *
The explosions and small arms fire were the signal the captive Arthropodan soldiers had been waiting for. A sergeant grabbed one of the common criminals and hung him by the neck from a light fixture. Then he yelled to a spider guard down the hall that someone was attempting suicide. They all yelled and pleaded for the guard to do something. The spider guard, already wary because of the sound of fighting in another part of the prison, refused to go inside the cell block. He ordered the prisoners to get the hanging spider down. However, as the guard watched, he got too close to the bars. The sergeant grabbed the guard and pulled him in close to be gutted. After obtaining the keys, the sergeant released the cell block inmates and led his spider soldiers down the hallway to the armory.
* * * * *
The Lion of the Forest and three hundred freedom fighters dug their way up into the prison cell block area, only to find a battle already in progress. He was amazed to find the Legion already in retreat. The Lion of the Forest deployed his heavily armed fighters to strategic strong points. Machine guns and anti-tank missiles were put to good use. They had the advantage of commanding the high ground. The retreating legionnaires still were not safe, even after their retreat to the perimeter, because of spider snipers. A column of armored cars entered the prison gates and was quickly destroyed by anti-tank missiles. It appeared that in a few minutes the insurgents would overwhelm the Legion positions.
* * * * *
Lieutenant Lopez and I entered the prison gates with a column of armored cars. We thought we were arriving to assist with a press release for Guido. The Legion had a new hero, and his promotion and medal ceremony was going to be broadcast on TV. An anti-tank missile struck the first armored car. Flames forced its evacuation. We returned fire with cannon and mounted machine guns, but were forced back when another armored car was hit.
“Hell of a way to run a prison,” said Lieutenant Lopez, as we jumped out of our burning armored car and ducked behind a wall.
I radioed to the T. Roosevelt Space Weapons Platform. “I need air support! The spiders have seized the entire Disneyland prison. We have lost at least two armored cars to anti-tank missiles and are outnumbered. The situation is dire.”
The T Roosevelt used its space cannon to drop 500 pound bombs on the prison. Helicopter gunships rocketed the prison, followed by fighter jets dropping napalm. A tank was used to secure the front gate. Its cannon fired into the upper cell block areas. I poked my head over a wall for a look. Plenty of spiders were still shooting back. The prison walls were too thick to do much damage to the spider positions. They kept shooting, then ducking behind thick walls or back to the tunnels.
I asked air support to drop bunker-busting bombs. These bombs would burrow deep into the ground and bunkers before exploding. They had immediate effect. One of the bombs was accidentally dropped on our tank at the front gate, causing more confusion.
* * * * *
By the second day, the surface buildings of the prison had been reduced to rubble by continuous bombardment. The spiders still controlled the underground areas and would pop up and shoot at anyone who moved. We brought in another tank. I followed the tank with a platoon. We planted an American flag on top of the great mound of rubble, but the spiders still fought on from the tunnels.
I radioed the T Roosevelt again. “We are inside the prison again with another tank,” I reported. “Stop bombing. We only have one tank left, and we don’t need you wrecking that one too.”
“Sorry about that,” said the new cannon specialist. “There must have been a miscommunication. It was the air force, not me, that hit your tank.”
“Where is Sergeant Mendoza?” I asked. “Mendoza usually operates the space cannon.”
“Sergeant Mendoza should be down there with you,” replied the cannon specialist.
“Oh. I’ll look for him,” I said. “He is probably on the other side of the prison.”
“There is some good news. You should now have cell phone service to Disneyland,” said the cannon specialist. “Is there anyone there you need to contact for supply or re-enforcements?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact there is,” I said, entering the number on my cell phone.
“Good afternoon, Pizza Hut,” answered a young spider. “How may I help you today?”
“I want to order five hundred extra-large pepperoni and sausage pizzas,” I said. “Put it on my card. Do you deliver?”
“We most certainly do,” said the young spider. “And we also guarantee hot delivery.”
“Oh hell no,” said Sergeant Green. “I do not eat pork.”
“You aren’t Muslim, are you?” I asked.
“Get real,” responded Sergeant Green. “Pork makes me deathly ill.”
“I want to change that order,” I said to Pizza Hut. “Make that 499 extra large pepperoni and sausage pizzas and one vegetarian pizza with extra cheese.”
“Do you want mushrooms?” asked the spider.
“No. I hate mushrooms,” I said. “And I want five hundred large bottles of Coke.”
“Sorry, we don’t have Coke,” advised the spider. “Is Pepsi okay?”
“Fine,” I said. “Deliver my order to the front gate of the prison.”
“The prison?” asked the young spider. “I have been hearing loud explosions all day coming from your direction. There have been rumors of a riot from the conveys of troops passing by. Is it safe?”
“Oh sure,” I said. “You know those air force geeks. They are always practicing blowing something up. Sometimes it keeps us awake at night.”
“Well okay, if you say everything is alright,” said the spider. “Let me just say that Pizza Hut appreciates your large order.”
When the pizza truck arrived, I gave the driver a big tip. I mentioned I was worried the insurgents had mined the road, but obviously not, since he got through. “We were starving out here,” I told the delivery spider. “You have probably heard what happens when humans get hungry. We will eat anyone.”
“I have to go now,” said the delivery spider, running back to his truck. “I quit this job! It’s not worth it for minimum wage!”
The bombing stopped so we could finish lunch. Lieutenant Lopez offered pizza to any spider who came out of the tunnels and surrendered. None did. At 1600 we started throwing grenades down spider holes and using a flamethrower to burn them out.
“What we need is a nuke,” I said to myself.
“Nuke?” asked Private Tonelli. “I know where there is a nuke. I could give it to you.”
“They might consider nuking rioters a bit excessive,” commented Lieutenant Lopez.
“I don’t see much difference,” said Tonelli, looking out at the destruction.
“It’s good to see you, Guido,” I said. “When this is over, you and I are going to have a long talk. Go help Private Williams and Sergeant Green throw grenades down spider holes.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Tonelli as he left.
* * * * *
By the third day, it was clear the spiders were not coming out, no matter what we did to them. Even gas had no effect. Finally, engineers redirected a nearby irrigation ditch to flood the prison underground. No spiders survived. They all drowned except for the Lion of the Forest and a few terrorists. They returned to Disneyland through the tunnels.
About eight hundred spider bodies were recovered. Most of our losses were spider guards. At the outset, legionnaires had retreated to safety and were saved by the quickness of the air support. Captain Norris’ body was recovered. It had been booby-trapped with a grenade. Sergeant Mendoza was still listed as missing in action, presumed dead and buried in the rubble.
* * * * *
“This is Phill Coen, World News Tonight, broadcasting live from the deadly prison riot at Disneyland, on the planet of New Colorado. Sources tell me that over eight hundred prisoners were killed when the Legion retook the prison. No prisoners survived. About sixty legionnaires and spider guards were killed or wounded. First we will be talking to the ranking officer on the scene, Captain Joey R. Czerinski.”
“Hello Phil,” I said. “Long time no see.”
“Captain Czerinski, this appears to be another massacre. You have been accused of massacre before,” commented Coen. “I believe the spiders still call you the Butcher of New Colorado.”
“That is unfair,” I said, agitated. “We almost got wiped out when the battle began.”
“At the very least, some would say that you used disproportionate force to quell the prison riot,” said Coen. “You used tanks, armored cars, artillery, jet fighter bombers, helicopter gunships, and the strategic bombing platform of the T. Roosevelt starship. There is even a rumor you discussed using a nuke. How do you justify using that much firepower?”
“The prisoners had grenades, mortars, anti-tank weapons, and machine guns,” I answered. “They almost overran our positions. We had no choice but to call in the big guns.”
“The war has been over for quite some time, yet half the prisoners were still just plain Arthropodan soldiers waiting to be repatriated,” said Coen. “Why would these spiders be so desperate as to riot?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Captain Norris, the prison warden, would be more familiar with the prison living conditions, but he was murdered at the beginning of the battle.”
“How do you think this many spider deaths will affect future U.S.G.F. relations with Arthropoda?” asked Coen. “Aren’t relations already strained?”
“Whatever,” I said. “Hopefully the spiders have learned that another cowardly surprise attack will be dealt with harshly by the Legion.”
“Sources say the riot started when Captain Norris pistol-whipped a new spider detainee in front of the whole prison population,” said Coen. “Is that true?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. But, I doubt it. The riot was not caused by Captain Norris. It was caused by rioters.”
“How can you explain that no prisoners survived?” asked Coen.
“At the end, we drove the spiders into the tunnels underground the fort,” I explained. “They all died when we flooded the underground.”
“Did you try to negotiate with the prisoners?” asked Coen. “Was there any attempt to establish a line of communications with the prisoners? Isn’t that procedure in all prison riot situations?”
“The minute I drove my armored car through the prison gates, the car was destroyed by an anti-tank rocket. There was no time for negotiations. I was pinned down against that wall over there by machine gun fire and mortars.”
“No time?” asked Coen. “Isn’t it true you had time to order and eat five hundred pizzas from Pizza Hut?”
“Lieutenant Lopez offered the spiders pizza if they would surrender, but none would come out of their holes,” I explained.
“So, one of your junior officers did try to negotiate with the prisoners?” asked Coen. He looked around and recognized Lieutenant Lopez walking by. “Lieutenant Lopez, do you have any comments about what happened here today?”
“No habla English,” replied Lieutenant Lopez. “Go fuck yourself.”
* * * * *
Private George Rambo Washington, the first spider legionnaire, drove our only remaining armored car back to Disneyland. It was a treat for Private Washington because he had never driven a human vehicle before. I doubt he could get a civilian driver’s license. His driving was scary. Even scarier were his thoughts. I could read his mind with the chip Guido had sold me. Private Washington kept thinking about running other drivers off the road. He obviously suffered from road rage.
As much of the company as possible was piled into the back the armored car. I rode up front. As we entered the outskirts of Disneyland, Private Tonelli began yelling about a house we had passed. He said it was one of the safe houses that he had been held in. We circled around the block. I noticed a video camera mounted on the roof above the front porch. I ordered Private Washington to drive through the front wall at fifty miles per hour and warned everyone in the back to hang on. A spider guard in the front room was killed instantly by the crash impact.
Sergeant Green led legionnaires in a room-by-room search of the house. In a bedroom we found a spider that Guido’s dragon had killed. Guido also showed us the entrance to the tunnel in the living room. We dropped a few grenades down the tunnel and radioed in for the engineers to destroy the place later. Private Washington stepped out onto the back porch to check the yard. He noticed what looked like another trap door. A rug only partially concealed another spider hole. Perhaps the occupant had closed the door so fast, he was not able to get the rug completely over the door. Private Washington pulled the rug away and threw open the trap door, revealing a spider hole.
A lone occupant called out, “Don’t shoot. I will throw out my pistol. I am the Lion of the Forest. I surrender. You will be quite a hero for capturing someone as important as me. You will be promoted. I can give you information about the insurgency. I order you to take me to Czerinski.”
Private Washington pulled the pin on a grenade and tossed it into the hole. The explosion made a mess of the Lion of the Forest, but his remains were later positively identified from DNA.
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
General Kalipetsis came to Disneyland to talk to me in private. He had the room scanned for listening devices before dismissing his aides-de-camp and ordering Lieutenant Lopez to leave.
“I got an interesting E-mail,” started General Kalipetsis. “It is from the Lion of the Forest.”
“The Lion is dead,” I commented. “He died heroically.”
“I know, but I will read the E-mail to you anyway,” said General Kalipetsis. “Dear General Kalipetsis: If you are reading this message I am dead and my cause is lost. Congratulations. My Emperor abandoned me and the Legion defeated me. I am not bitter. What galls me is the thought of Czerinski gloating over my corpse. So, I am reaching out from the grave to snatch the big prize from Czerinski. As you know, Czerinski stole a prototype Formicidaen starship from our joint custody. Later Czerinski claimed the starship was destroyed during the Formicidaen War. He lied. The starship is buried in a cavern far below the ruins of Czerinski’s burned-out casino on the DMZ. I hope the scoundrel goes to prison. My time is gone. Bury me upside down so Czerinski can kiss my ass.”
“That is quite an E-mail,” I said. “The Lion of the Woods is a very vindictive spider.”
“Initial seismic tests indicate there is a cavern deep below your old casino,” said General Kalipetsis. “Before I go to all the trouble of secretly excavating under your property, you need to tell me the truth. Did you hide that starship under your casino?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But I stole the starship to deny it from the spiders. History proved I was right that the spiders cannot be trusted. I am vindicated.”
“Maybe,” said General Kalipetsis. “But you also stole the starship from the United States. We could have used that starship in the last war. And you kept the starship for personal gain.”
“You are thinking about arresting and charging me?” I asked. “You will not dare do that. The stealth technologies in that prototype starship are invaluable. Its secret possession will give the United States Galactic Federation a distinct strategic advantage over our alien neighbors. If you charge me and put me on trial, the secret will be out.”
“I may try you in secret and throw you out an airlock,” said General Kalipetsis. “Treason is a serious matter.”
“I used that starship to destroy the Formicidaen Empire,” I argued. “I even was awarded a medal for my initiative.”
“Okay, you have made some good points,” said General Kalipetsis as he stood up. “I came here to resolve this matter, not to arrest you.”
“This conversation is not over,” I said. “Sit down. I have business partners to settle up with. I want to be compensated for giving the Shenandoah to you.”
“You aren’t giving it to me,” said General Kalipetsis. “The United States is taking rightful possession of the Shenandoah.”
“By treaty, you are required to share the Shenandoah and its secrets with Arthropoda,” I said. “I am giving you exclusive possession by not telling the spiders about the starship.”
“After this last little war, we have a new treaty with the spiders,” said General Kalipetsis. “And it says we get all of New Colorado and everything on it.”
“You are splitting hairs,” I said.
“And you are attempting to blackmail the United States into paying for your silence,” said General Kalipetsis. “Your government appreciates your sacrifices, but extortion will not be tolerated. Neither will treason.”
“My seizure of the Shenandoah was eventually sanctioned by the United States. That means the Shenandoah is a prize ship. I am entitled to a percentage of its worth. Old Earth human history is rich with precedent to support my position.”
“Human history yes,” said General Kalipetsis. “United States history I am not so sure about.”
“Also, under established Admiralty Law I am entitled to salvage rights because the Shenandoah was lost, and I helped you find it,” I argued.
“It was stolen, not lost. I am not a lawyer. Obviously you have had more time to ponder these issues than I have,” said General Kalipetsis. “However, being a legionnaire, you are not entitled to anything you salvage without a special agreement. You work for me.”
“I was a civilian between enlistments. Remember? I kept the Shenandoah safe from the spiders during that time.”
“It does not matter. I am not authorized to pay you anything. And I am certainly not asking Congress to write you a check.”
“Why not?” I asked. “Congress has plenty of money. How about this? We will submit the issue of compensation to an independent arbitrator.”
Agreed,” said General Kalipetsis quickly. “In the meantime, I am transferring you and your company to the most remote part of New Colorado I can find. This will keep the press away from you. I want you out of the public’s eye until the diplomats can smooth things over with Arthropoda. Hopefully the Disneyland prison massacre will be forgotten in a few months.”
“I think I have too many enemies for you to just hide me in some far-off corner of New Colorado,” I commented. “Why did I have to join the Legion? I should have been a serious person and got a real job.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said General Kalipetsis. “Having enemies only means you have stood up for something sometime in your life. It shows you have character.”
* * * * *
“My orders are to take a squad to the North and scout our new home, Finisterra,” I announced. “Lieutenant Lopez, what does Finisterra mean?”
“Finisterra means End of the World,” advised Lopez. “It also can mean Land’s End.”
“Finisterra is about a thousand miles to the north. Engineers will be building a bridge across the New Mississippi River,” I said. “Our Company’s job will be to secure the area and keep the engineers safe from insurgents. This place is really in the middle of nowhere. Load up the armored car with extra food and gas cans. We are going on a road trip. Any questions?”
“Can I drive?” asked Private Washington.
“Yes,” I said. “But God save us. One more thing. We are stopping by a liquor store on the way out of town.”
“Outstanding,” said Sergeant Green. “Finally, we catch a break.”
Newly promoted Corporals Kool, Tonelli, and Ceausescu, and Privates Williams and Nesbit rode in the back with Sergeant Green. Lieutenant Lopez manned the mounted machine gun and cannon. I road shotgun with Private Washington. Spot rode on the roof because he stunk and because everyone was afraid to be near him. We bought Vodka and beer and started drinking immediately.
“Beer is living proof God loves us and wants us to be happy,” said Private Williams. He let out a rebel yell.
“I like vodka too much,” said Private Washington. “That is why I never use it.”
“You are a smart spider,” I said, as I poured vodka into my beer. “Especially since you are driving.”
“Beer is the best damn drink in the world,” said Corporal Kool.
“I see spider hitchhikers up ahead,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Do you want to pick them up?”
“Oh hell no,” said Sergeant Green. “Run them over.”
“They are young females,” said Private Washington, as he pulled over to stop. “We have room. They should not be hitchhiking at night. There are too many unsavory types out and about.”
“Hello human pestilence,” said the first spider to get into the armored car. She sat between me and Private Washington. “My name is Pam. These are my slutty sisters Sam, Bam, Jan, and Fran. Can you take us to the edge of town?”
“Spider babes?” commented Private Williams, giving another rebel yell. “Want some beer and vodka?”
“Why are you going to the edge of town?” I asked, as I passed beer and vodka to Pam and her sisters.
“We are going to the drive-in theater,” said Pam.
“What is playing?” asked Corporal Ceausescu.
“It is a brand new horror film called Massacre at Habitat #40,” said Pam. “It is supposed to be so scary it was almost rated X. Want to come with us?”
“In an armored car?” I asked.
“I think your car is awesome,” said Pam. “There is so much room.”
“Hell yes,” said Lieutenant Lopez, leaning on his machine gun. “Let’s go to a movie.”
Everyone let out a cheer as Private Washington swerved hard to the right and entered the drive-in theater. We had to park way in the back because of the high profile of the armored car.
“I did not know our kind were allowed in the Foreign Legion,” said Pam, as she put her hand on Private Washington’s Legion shoulder patch. “You look very handsome in that uniform.”
“I am not one of your kind,” corrected Private Washington. “I am green. You are black.”
“Once you have gone black, you will never go back,” Pam said with a giggle as she pawed at Private Washington’s buttons. “Fran! Lets rape this big green cutie!”
“I would love to,” replied Fran as she jumped up front and attacked Private Washington.
The commotion shoved me out the passenger’s side door. I fell face-first in the dirt. I could no longer walk because I was drunk, so I crawled to the next car. It contained a family of spiders. I gripped the car and pulled myself up to a standing position. The driver was very upset. “You human pestilence are a disgrace,” said the driver. “You are degenerates with no morals.”
I could not understand most of what the driver said. My head was spinning, and I was about to fall over. I urinated on the side of the car as he rolled up his windows and drove off. I fell backwards.
“Do you think we should assist Washington?” asked Corporal Kool, as he peered over the cab divider at the fight in the front seat. Washington appeared to be losing.
“Yes, help me!” pleaded Private Washington. “Help! Get them off me!”
“No, don’t interfere,” said Lieutenant Lopez, as he watched the movie. It was a war movie. It upset Lieutenant Lopez because the spiders were winning. “Spiders have rough mating rituals. Private Washington is having the time of his life.”
“That is so hot,” said Corporal Kool, still peering at the fight.
“Help me,” cried Private Washington, again.
Lieutenant Lopez fired a burst from his machine gun at the movie screen. Then he fell back into the bed of the armored car, excusing his action with, “Damn spiders were overrunning our position. I had to do something.”
Corporal Kool turned his attention to Corporal Ceausescu. She was snuggled up against Sergeant Green. An angry spider a few cars down threw a vodka bottle at the armored car, but Corporal Kool didn’t much care. “Hey Elena, want to do a threesome?”
“Gross!” said Corporal Ceausescu. “Not if you were the last pig in the galaxy.”
Private Nesbit asked Jan if she wanted to walk with him to the concession stand to buy some popcorn. She said yes, and they walked off together hand in claw.
I was still lying on my back. Bam approached me, but I drew my pistol and aimed it at her. She pouted and went back to the armored car where she snuggled in against Ceausescu.
“You humans are so hot-blooded,” said Bam. “It is like going to bed with my very own hot rock.”
“I am a female,” said Corporal Ceausescu. “Get your claw off my ass.”
“Excuse me,” said Bam, now frustrated. “I could not tell the difference because you dress the same and your markings are hard to read.”
“I think you are so hot,” said Corporal Kool, as he handed Bam another beer. “Give me a kiss.”
“You are just the cutest little fuzz ball I have ever met,” said Bam, as she wrapped eight arms and legs around Corporal Kool. They rolled out of the car and onto the ground.
Sam leered at Tonelli, Williams, and Lopez. “What is a girl going to do with so much variety?” she asked. “I will take all three of you.”
“I am not drunk enough,” replied Guido, when Sam gazed at him.
“It would be a sin,” added Lieutenant Lopez, crossing himself as he pulled himself back up to the machine gun.
“A coward and a religious fanatic,” commented Sam, shaking her head in disapproval. Her eyes locked on Williams.
“You are all mine,” said Private Williams, sounding off with another rebel yell as they embraced and fell over.
“That is disgusting,” said Corporal Ceausescu as she and Sergeant Green left to find some privacy on a blanket underneath the armored car.
“It’s the cops!” warned Lopez, aiming his machine gun at the police car. The police car approached with blue lights flashing.
Two newly appointed spider deputy sheriffs got out of the police car. I staggered up to them and gave the largest one a hug. “I am so glad you came,” I slurred. “Someone threw a vodka bottle at our car.”
“Who fired the machine gun at the movie screen?” asked one of the deputies.
“I don’t know,” said Lopez, still using the machine gun to hold himself up. “I think the screen already had holes in it before we arrived.”
“That’s right,” said Corporal Kool. “It did.”
Pam popped her head out the window and shouted, “Go away! We are busy!”
“I noticed you all have been drinking,” said the spider deputy sheriff. “Do you have an alcohol permit?”
“Do you have a permit to ask stupid questions?” I asked back.
“We don’t need no stinking permits,” added Lieutenant Lopez.
Corporal Ceausescu, who was still under the armored car, got quite upset about being interrupted. She used her rifle butt to reach out and strike the deputy sheriff in the ankle. He hopped away from the car, yelling in pain. “You are under arrest,” said the spider deputy sheriff. “Come out from under there!”
“Try and come under here and get me,” challenged Corporal Ceausescu. “You think you’re male enough?”
“No one is under arrest,” I slurred. “We are an army of occupation. You cannot arrest us.”
“Civil authority has been established in Disneyland, and the Legion is leaving,” said the spider deputy sheriff. “We have elected a new mayor and a new sheriff. I have the authority to arrest all of you.”
“Either no one gets arrested, or we all get arrested,” I said. “We are the Legion. We will not let you take one of us without a fight from all of us.”
The spider deputy sheriff drew his pistol. Lieutenant Lopez aimed his machine gun. Everyone else that wasn’t passed out reached for their assault rifles.
“Now take it easy,” I said. “She is just a girl. You don’t want to arrest a girl, do you? Drunk females are more trouble than they’re worth.”
“You let a girl kick your ass,” baited Corporal Ceausescu. “Come on. You want a piece of me?”
The spider deputy sheriff looked closer at Corporal Ceausescu. She vomited on Sergeant Green, who was now passed out. “The theater manager wants all of you out of here,” said the spider deputy sheriff. “Leave! Do it now. And don’t come back.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, as I tried to hug the deputy again.
He gave me a shock with his electric baton. “No hugs!”
Everyone gathered up their clothes, and we left. Private Williams threw a beer bottle at a spider police car as we passed by. We dropped the spider babes off at a Denny’s Restaurant.
“I promise to write,” said Pam as she waved at Private Washington.
“Bye honey,” yelled Fran.
“I love you,” called out Private Williams as we left town. He let out another rebel yell.
About two hundred miles outside of town, Sergeant Green woke up. He immediately started counting bodies. Someone was missing. “Where is Nesbit?” he asked.
“Getting popcorn?” said Private Williams.
“Captain! We are missing Private Nesbit,” said Sergeant Green.
“Good,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I hope he gets arrested.”
“We need to go back and find him,” insisted Sergeant Green. “The insurgents might get him.”
“Jan will get him first,” said Corporal Ceausescu. “A fate worse than death.”
“To hell with Nesbit,” I said. “He is a fool, anyway. I’ll radio for the MPs to pick him up. Nesbit can join us later with the engineers.”
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
The north of New Colorado was a vast unexplored forest wilderness. Along the North Highway there was no traffic because there were no services. Gasoline was airlifted to predetermined locations. We could have been airlifted ourselves, but I thought a road trip would be more fun. After combat, my troops needed to unwind. I needed to unwind. Yesterday at the movies was part of my plan. This drive would be the rest of it. Also, General Kalipetsis wanted the North Highway checked for signs of insurgents and bandits. About eight hundred miles into the trip, we came upon a spider and his donkey. He looked just like an Old West prospector, complete with overloaded pack animal.
“What is the human pestilence doing up here?” asked the prospector. “Is the Legion trying to start another war?”
“The war already happened,” I explained. “It is over now.”
“I missed it. Oh well, no big deal,” said the prospector. “I guess Arthropoda lost, or you would not be here on our side of the DMZ. Why are you here? Sightseeing?”
“Looking for insurgents. Have you seen any?”
“I thought you said the war was over.”
“Some are slow learners,” said Sergeant Green.
“There is no one up here except me and Shaky Jake,” said the prospector, patting his donkey. “It gets too damn cold up here in the winter for most city boys.”
“Are you prospecting for gold?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.
“He ain’t too bright, is he?” asked the prospector. “Of course I am looking for gold. Why else would I freeze my mandibles off digging in the cold hard ground?”
“Find any gold?” I asked.
“Now that is for me to know and for you to not find out,” said the prospector. “You have to have a special eye to find gold on New Colorado. How long are you going to be up here poking your snout where it don’t belong?”
“Maybe a few months,” I said. “We will be security for the new bridge they are going to build at Finisterra. You will be seeing the engineers trucking their heavy equipment through here in about a week.”
“There goes the neighborhood,” said the prospector. “I’ll give you some advice since we are going to be neighbors. First thing, you tell those engineers when you see them to build you some cabins. And you might ask them to bring some warm clothes, too. It’s going to be getting real cold up here, soon.”
“How cold is real cold?” asked Corporal Tonelli.
“Cold enough to make a black and green popsicle out of that dragon of yours. He is not going to be happy up here. Keep that monster away from my donkey.”
“I’ve been feeding Spot dog food because he is not allowed to eat humans or spiders anymore,” said Tonelli. “He does seem to have taken an interest in your donkey.”
“Just turn him loose when you get to where you are going,” said the prospector. “He can eat all the deer he wants. They are everywhere. Maybe he will share a venison steak with you. It’s real tasty.”
“You can eat deer?” asked Tonelli. “Are they dangerous?”
“Tonelli has led a sheltered life,” said Private Williams. “Of course you can eat deer. I’ll take you hunting with me.”
“Just be careful and on the lookout for Big Foot,” warned the prospector.
“There is no such thing as Big Foot,” I said. “Big Foot is just an Old Earth legend.”
“We have the same legend on Arthropoda. You are probably right,” said the prospector. “But there is something out there. I have heard it scream at night. And, I have seen gutted deer.”
“Okay, I’ve heard enough ghost stories around the campfire,” said Corporal Ceausescu. “Let’s get going. This place gives me the creeps.”
“How about selling me one of those gold pans hanging from your donkey?” asked Corporal Kool. “I’ll give you twenty dollars for it.”
“I have no use for money out here,” said the prospector. “Trade me something.”
“How about this?” asked Corporal Kool, handing the prospector a grenade. “It might be useful if you ever come face to face with Big Foot.”
“Son, throw in your hat and you just bought yourself a gold pan,” said the prospector.
* * * * *
Finisterra was nothing more than a fork in the river. We set up tents and portable heaters. A snowflake occasionally dropped from the overcast sky. I walked down to the river bank where the bridge construction would begin. Survey markers and posts were already in place. To my left a grenade went off in the water. I dropped into the mud for cover.
“Don’t worry, it was just me,” reassured Corporal Kool. “I was fishing.”
“Get any?” asked Private Williams as he ran up to the river bank.
“Almost. It was this long,” said Corporal Kool, gesturing about three feet. “But it got away.”
As I angrily picked myself up out of the blue clay, I noticed something shiny in the water and picked it up. It was a gold nugget about the size of a door knob. I washed it off and put the nugget into my grenade pouch. I looked about for more gold but didn’t find any. No one had noticed my discovery.
“Captain, are you okay?” asked Corporal Kool. “Sorry if I startled you.”
“Private Williams!” I yelled. “You take Corporal Kool north along the river and show him the proper way to fish. No more grenades!”
“Yes, sir,” said Private Williams. “That is the best order I’ve been given since I joined the Legion.”
“We better get going before he changes his mind,” suggested Corporal Kool. “Or before Sergeant Green sees us and puts us to work again.”
I called Battalion Headquarters on the radio to check in. I told the engineers I wanted cabins built because it was about to snow. When they asked if I wanted anything else built, I said I wanted a large lodge, a well for the plumbing, generators, swimming pool, and a hot tub. I then E-mailed the County Clerk in Disneyland and filed a miner’s claim. I also filled out an application to buy Finisterra under the newly passed Homestead Act of New Colorado.
* * * * *
Team Leader #4 of the Arthropodan Special Forces had orders to resupply the insurgency with arms, and to destabilize the North. He also brought twenty-five Special Forces advisors to help train the locals. At first the Emperor was reluctant to violate the terms of the peace treaty. But after the prison massacre at Disneyland, there was a public outcry to do something. Also, it grated on the Emperor that uranium and oil deposits had just been discovered in the North. The human pestilence was keeping the discovery a secret because they knew some of those profits belonged to the Arthropodan corporation that sent geologists to the North in the first place.
#4 brought assault rifles, machine guns, RPGs, armored piercing rockets, land mines, and SAMs. #4 gave the local dragon leader the weapons and cached them in hidden bunkers along the North Highway. Apparently the insurgency had just been run out of town, and the Lion of the Forest was dead. They were eager for payback.
“This is the only road to the North,” said #4. “You should be able to easily harass convoy traffic. The forest canopy is a perfect cover for hit and run tactics.”
“I do not like this wild forest,” commented the dragon leader. “I heard the human pestilence have seeded the forest with vicious predators from Earth to control the deer and other pests. Last night I heard a God awful scream as some poor animal got killed.”
“No animal can stand up against your assault rifles,” said #4. “With these weapons, you will rule the Northern Territory.”
“Sir!” interrupted a Special Forces sergeant. “We found an old prospector who says he has information about the Legion being in this area.”
“Bring him in,” said #4. When he saw the prospector, he was shocked by his renegade appearance. The old fart entered the camp wearing a human cap and tugging at an animal of Old Earth origin. “Is that a Legion hat?”
“Of course it is,” said the prospector. “They came through here about a week ago.”
“What were they doing up here?” asked #4.
“Looking for you,” said the prospector. “A captain told me engineers would be coming through to build a bridge at Finisterra.”
“What are you doing up here?” asked the dragon leader.
“Minding my own business is what I should be doing,” said the prospector. “I thought the war was over, but I now see you insurgents and marines. Are you all slow learners or just lost?”
“You will stay in camp for a while as our guest,” ordered #4.
“Why?” asked the prospector. “I have my own camp.”
“For security reasons,” said #4.
“I was doing my duty while you were still an egg,” complained the prospector. “Who do you think you are, harassing me like this?”
“It’s only temporary,” said #4.
“As big and majestic as the North Country is, you would think a spider could find some elbow room,” griped the prospector. “But no! You busybody types have to get into everyone’s business. I am not staying in your camp another minute. It’s too crowded for my tastes, and I don’t like the company.” The prospector spit some chew on the ground and led his donkey into the forest.
“That prospector did not seem too happy. He might tip off the Legion about our presence,” said the dragon leader.
“Kill him,” said #4. “Kill the Earth animal, too. I can still smell its stench.”
The dragon leader nodded to two insurgents. They quickly dashed into the brush after the prospector. About five minutes later, the whole camp heard a grenade explode. The two insurgents did not return. Their bodies were never found.
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
From his hiding place, the spider Special Forces sergeant watched the human pestilence convoy of about thirty trucks pass. His one hundred insurgents would cut off retreat and ambush any help that was sent.
The convoy drove a couple miles down the road to a bend in the road where it had to slow down. Private Nesbit was riding in the lead armored car when it hit a land mine. Nesbit was thrown out the back door by the force of the explosion. The convoy was halted by the resulting traffic jam.
Three spiders stepped from the thick forest and threw armor-piercing grenades. More vehicles caught fire. Private Nesbit shot one of the spiders. A machine gun on a ridge overlooking the convoy sprayed the trucks and legionnaires with more bullets. Private Nesbit crawled on his hands and knees to the rear of the convoy. It began to snow.
Armored cars were driven wildly into the ditch in an attempt to establish a defensive perimeter. Machine guns and cannons fired into the forest. Mortar shells hit the convoy. Trucks carrying bridge spans and parts caught fire and were abandoned. Two helicopter gunships assigned to convoy escort strafed suspected insurgent positions on each side of the road. A spider soldier fired a heat-seeking rocket that hit one of the helicopters and brought it down. Smoke from the crash drifted over the battlefield.
Private Nesbit crawled into the overturned command car and radioed the T. Roosevelt Space Weapons Platform for air support. Within minutes, cluster bombs were dropped from space, blanketing both sides of the road. The forest exploded. As quickly as it started, the ambush ended. The insurgents pulled back to predetermined staging areas. Legion jets appeared and dropped more bombs on the forest.
The convoy was wrecked. Legionnaires abandoned equipment, piled into the remaining vehicles, and retreated. Another vehicle hit a land mine, springing a second insurgent ambush. More machine gun fire raked what was left of the convoy. Private Nesbit fired a red smoke flare into the forest to mark enemy positions. Jet fighters flattened that section of forest. The spiders withdrew again.
The insurgents suffered few casualties. Their plan was to hit quickly and withdraw quickly, and to hit again tomorrow. The second ambush worked to perfection. The intervention of the T. Roosevelt was a surprise, but even the best laid plans are not perfect. A few reckless spider insurgents stayed behind and danced atop the Legion vehicles to celebrate before fading back into the forest. It was all filmed and eventually sent out over the internet on the insurgents’ website. #4 and most of his Special Forces marines had already left on their shuttle for Finisterra. He left a sergeant and four advisers to help organize the next attacks.
In orbit above New Colorado, the captain of an Arthoropodan Special Forces support ship watched with interest as the T. Roosevelt dropped its ordnance. The captain’s orders were to drop more supplies, mostly arms and food, to the insurgents, and to be available if needed. Now seemed to be a time of need. The T. Roosevelt, preoccupied by its bombardment of the planet surface, would be an easy target of opportunity. As they approached for attack, missile detection alarms sounded. The captain’s ship was being targeted by a stealth starship. They never knew it was the Shenandoah that killed them. Death in space is quick and violent.
* * * * *
The five spider Special Forces marines huddled around the campfire. They were frying venison steaks.
“I think our charges did very well,” commented the sergeant. “They followed instructions and routed the human pestilence with minimal losses. If it had not been for the Legion air support, we would have wiped the convoy out completely.”
“Still, we have big problems,” replied a corporal. “We are now stuck here. We have lost contact with our supply ship. Our stashed vehicles are useless because the Legion controls the only road out of here. We have plenty of weapons and ammunition, but our food is running out.”
“I guess we will have to dine on steaks all winter,” said a private. “It could be worse.”
“It already is worse,” said the corporal. “The deer are getting scarce. If it keeps snowing, we not only will starve, we will all freeze to death.”
“We could build shelters,” suggested the sergeant.
“For over two hundred fighters?” asked the corporal. “The plan was to stay mobile so that the Legion could not pin us down with their superior numbers, firepower, and air support. The plan does not work if we try to survive the winter in cabins.”
“What are you suggesting?” asked the sergeant.
“We can hunt. We brought winter gear,” said the corporal. “Most of the fools that came out here with us brought no winter clothing. They think this is one big camp-out. The weather is turning polar. Some tough decisions need to be made. I for one do not want to share our food or what little else we have with them.”
“What can we do?” asked the sergeant. “We are all in this together.”
“No we are not,” said the corporal. “We should leave them. It is eight hundred miles back to Disneyland, but it is only two hundred miles to the river. We walk out of here. When we get to the river, we build a raft and float to safety.”
“Why don’t we just call for the shuttle to pick us up,” asked a private. “We can join #4 at Finisterra.”
“They aren’t answering their radio either,” said the corporal. “Something has happened to them. We may be alone.”
The sergeant looked over at the next campfire. A drunk insurgent drinking from a vodka bottle fell backwards into the snow bank. His comrades laughed.
“You are right,” said the sergeant. “We should hike to the river. But we cannot just leave them. We could lead them to the river, too.”
“Haven’t you been listening?” asked the corporal. “They have maybe two days food left. They won’t make it that far. And the Legion would detect large movements of troops. We need to take what food we can steal and carry, and get out before they realize their situation. We are on our own now. We have to do what is necessary for us to survive.”
“We will leave at midnight,” said the sergeant. “We will raid the supply cache for food before we go.”
* * * * *
Wolves evolved to fear man. This instinct was an important survival trait. Wolves wanted nothing to do with man. They did not even like the smell of man. Man stunk with sweat and other odors.
Spiders were another matter. Spiders were something new. Spiders even smelled like prey. The wolves had been watching the spiders for quite some time. When five spiders left their fire, they plodded through the snow in a long strung-out column. Herd animals did that, too. Unlike herd animals, the spiders had no lookouts. Even those at the front and the rear walked with their heads hung low, miserable from the cold. It was careless.
Wolves were not as smart as spiders or men. But the wolves were in their element. Deep snow and a cold wet forest worked in their favor. The wolves of New Colorado were larger than the wolves of Old Earth. Perhaps that was because they ate better on New Colorado. Scientists may have tinkered with their genes when the wolves were put here, but there was no proof. However, wolves on New Colorado were definitely more aggressive.
The five spiders were an opportunity that could not be ignored. The pack of twenty-five wolves struck from all directions. Surprise was total. The spider marines were able to fire their assault rifles, but not before the damage was done. All five spiders were seriously injured. The sergeant looked down at his broken and missing limbs. The others were in no better shape. Dazed by the ferocity of the attack, they just lay there in the snow.
“What kind of planet could be so cruel?” cried the sergeant. “I hate this place.”
Falling snow had already covered his legs. The sergeant looked up the ridge. The howling monsters stared down at him. Time was on their side. It was so cold. He felt so tired. The sergeant drew his pistol and fired several shots at the wolves. The shots missed. Then he shot himself.
* * * * *
“Our Special Forces friends left,” said an assistant dragon leader. “They left a note saying they had another mission.”
“Good,” said a private as he took another swig of vodka. “We don’t need them. We just defeated the whole Legion, and we will do it again without their help.”
“What mission could they have now? What would be more important than fighting the Legion here and now?” asked the dragon leader. “Which direction did they go?”
“The snow covered their tracks. Maybe they are joining #4 at Finisterra,” said the assistant dragon leader. “Will this snow ever stop?”
“We need a bigger fire,” commented the dragon leader, shivering from the cold. “This one is going out.”
“There is no dry wood, what with all the rain and snow,” replied the private. “I don’t even have an ax. We need to go back to town.”
“We need shelter,” said the assistant dragon leader. “The supply bunkers are too small to fit us all.”
“The bunkers are full, and they won’t let us in,” complained the private, throwing away his vodka bottle. “We are out of vodka, too.”
“And we have another problem,” added the assistant dragon leader. “There have been desertions.”
“Why?” asked the dragon leader. “We just fought a great victory. Morale should be high. Where would they go?”
“To surrender,” said the private. “At least the Legion has food. What good is victory if we are starving?”
“We have no food?” asked the dragon leader. “Now I know why the marines left. Put a guard on the food caches.”
“It’s too late,” said the private. “The food is gone. All the supplies have been dumped outside to make room to keep warm.”
It never did stop snowing. The temperature dropped to thirty degrees below zero. The air itself froze. Snow flakes bounced off the ground and floated, suspended in the air. Spiders fought for space in their small bunkers. The cached weapons tossed outside were soon covered with snow and lost. Some spiders walked out to the highway to surrender. A few were taken prisoner. After their terrible losses, legionnaires were not in a mood to take prisoners. Other spiders simply wandered off to sleep and die.
As if on cue to finally put the insurgents out of their misery, white clad Legion troops on skis appeared and sought them out. The fight was quick and decisive.
* * * * *
The shuttle circled over Finisterra, looking for a place to land. The tops of trees were obscured by low clouds. They did not have fuel to waste, but there were no clear spots in the thick forest to land. Finally, about two miles from Finisterra, they found the meadow they had been hoping for. Quickly landing, they realized their mistake too late. The shuttle fell through the ice of a pond and tipped over. Spider marines and equipment were thrown about.
Water poured into the shuttle. #4 pulled marines out of the emergency hatch. They salvaged as much equipment as possible, but their situation was a mess. #4 rallied his marines. They would walk to Finisterra and take what they needed to survive from the human pestilence. Wet and cold, #4 shivered until his exoskeleton rattled to its core. “Why would anyone want to fight for a planet this cold?”
* * * * *
“Listen up,” I said. “I got a radio report that insurgents attacked the engineer convoy. The engineers will not be coming up the highway. A decision was made to barge everything up the river. Probably the barges have to be built first.”
“We are almost out of supplies,” advised Sergeant Green.
“No problem,” I said. “Just make a list and radio in what you want airlifted.”
“What happens if the insurgents attack here?” asked Corporal Tonelli.
We are too far away,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Insurgents can’t get this far without air transport.”
“We will post guards. How does your lizard like the snow?” I asked Tonelli. “You have first watch.”
“Spot gets irritable when I take him outside to do his business,” said Guido. “He tried to bite me.”
“Does anyone here know how to build a log cabin?” I asked. No one answered. “It might be a while before the engineers get here.”
“This tent is nice and toasty as long as the portable heater lasts,” said Corporal Ceausescu.
“I know, but a nasty wind could easily rip it apart,” I said. “Then we all would be living in the armored car.”
* * * * *
Guido grabbed a portable heater and dragged his dragon off to the armored car. This was the second time Czerinski had sent him into the darkness to do guard duty, groused Guido. Czerinski held a grudge forever. Guido cleared snow off the windows so he could see out. By morning the armored car would probably look like a giant igloo. Settling inside, Guido took off his boots and kicked back in a chair with his feet resting on top of the heater.
At about midnight Spot began a long guttural growl. “Great. That’s probably Lieutenant Lopez or Sergeant Green sneaking up on me to see if I am sleeping. If it’s Czerinski, we are going to have words.” Guido quickly put on his boots and looked out the windows. He could see nothing. Guido wiped the moisture off the window and peered out again. Still nothing. He could see all the way to the tree line, but there was no sign of Lieutenant Lopez or Sergeant Green. Guido put on the night vision goggles he’d been issued. This time the batteries had juice in them and the goggles worked. At first the reflection off the snow made it too bright. But after adjustments, Guido could see movement at the tree line. It was spiders. Lots of spiders! Guido climbed up into the turret and fired the machine gun. When the spiders dispersed and ducked for cover, Guido fired the cannon.
* * * * *
At the sound of gunfire, we all crawled out the sides of our tent and into the snow drifts. I ran for cover beside a fallen log. I could see several spiders behind another log firing at the armored car and preparing to fire and anti-tank missile. I threw a grenade. The grenade hit the front of the log and bounced harmlessly before exploding. I threw another grenade that hit on top of the log and bounced over and past the spiders before exploding. The spiders were now shooting at me. I threw a third grenade with more elevation. It dropped behind the log perfectly.
* * * * *
Team Leader #4 could see the human officer tossing grenades, but could do nothing about it. The grenades came in quick succession. When the third grenade landed among them, #4 did not hesitate. He ripped off his helmet and threw himself on the grenade. #4 closed his eyes and embraced death.
But nothing happened. There was no explosion. He was still alive. #4 carefully removed the helmet from the grenade. After surviving what appeared to be a dud, it would not do to accidently set the grenade off by jarring it. His fellow marines had stopped shooting and just stared.
The grenade appeared very shiny. How odd. How beautiful. #4 picked it up for a closer look. The object was a fist sized gold nugget. #4 glanced over the log at the human officer. He was about to throw another grenade.
“Stop!” called out #4. “Who threw that last grenade? Who threw the dud?”
“I did,” I yelled back. “What’s it to you?”
“How about throwing another one just like it,” said #4.
“Are you crazy?” I asked, as I tossed another grenade. This one exploded short of the log. My shoulder was getting sore. It felt like I tore something.
“Stop throwing grenades at me,” said #4. “I do not want to fight any more.”
“You surrender?” I asked.
“No, of course not,” said #4. “Why would I surrender? We have you outnumbered.”
“But we have a cannon and machine gun mounted on an armored car,” I said. “You can’t fight off an armored car if we charge you.”
“We have armor-piercing rockets,” said #4. “No matter. I do not want to fight any more.”
“Why?” I asked. “We are at war. We have to fight. It’s against the rules not to fight.”
“The war ended a long time ago. Besides, I had an epiphany,” said #4. “I look at things differently now.”
I rapped on the translation device inside my helmet. I didn’t think my translator could understand a word like ‘epiphany.’ I am not sure I even understood its meaning. “You will have to explain yourself better than that!” I demanded.
“I told you. I quit,” said #4. “All I want to do is float down the river back to civilization.”
“And rejoin the insurgency?” I asked. “No! You made your choice to join the insurgency and you can die with it.”
#4 stood up and walked toward me. “I am not a member of the insurgency. I am Team Leader #4 of the Arthropodan Special Forces marines. I wish to immigrate to New Colorado and become a United States Galactic Federation citizen.”
I left the cover of my log and met #4 halfway. Clearly this spider was wearing an Arthropodan marine uniform. “You are a long way from home,” I said. “What was your mission?”
“Pure adventurism,” said #4. “But it is over. Let us pass, and I promise not to take up arms against the Legion ever again.”
Lieutenant Lopez walked up to us. “What is the catch, mocoso? What are you getting out of this? What aren’t you telling us? Don’t be telling me any more lies about you just wanting to quit. I will shoot you now if you lie again.”
#4 held out the large gold nugget. “I am sure there are more of these here at Finisterra,” said #4. “Gold glitters everywhere here. I want to stay and look for more.”
Lieutenant Lopez reached for the gold nugget, but #4 pulled back and put the nugget in a pouch. “Where did you get that?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.
“Your captain threw it at me moments ago, thinking it was a grenade,” said #4.
Lieutenant Lopez gave me a shove. “You held back on me? Where did you find gold? And when were you planning to tell me about it?”
“I found it here,” I said. “I was going to tell you about it as soon as my application to purchase Finisterra was approved. You are still my partner.”
“Partners don’t hold back like that,” said Lieutenant Lopez.
“The best way to keep a secret is to not tell anyone,” I said. “I was going to tell you after I obtained the deed to Finisterra.”
“So what is it going to be?” asked #4. “When the secret gets out, there is going to be a gold rush up here. I say we stake our claims now while we can. My war with you is over.” #4 held his claw out to shake.
“Agreed,” I said, shaking claw. “You may pass. Build a boat and stake any claim you want across the river. Finisterra is ours.”
* * * * *
Team Leader #4 and his unit built rafts and crossed the river. They buried five dead. All the Special Forces soldiers already had civilian clothes in their backpacks. They shed their uniforms and began panning for gold. Almost immediately gold was found on their side of the river. #4 left ten soldiers at camp and took four others on a raft down the New Mississippi River. After several days they reached the large city of New Memphis.
#4 chipped off a little bit of the nugget and converted it to cash. They found lodging at a hotel, bought supplies, and secured boat passage for the return trip north. As they walked through the business district, #4 saw a sign: Anthony Depoli, Attorney at Law. He shrugged, walked inside, and faced real danger. Lawyers can be pretty scary.
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
“This is Phil Coen, World News Tonight, with breaking news from the Northern Territory of New Colorado,” announced Coen, as he held a microphone up to a spider civilian. “Sir, tell our viewers your name.”
“My name is General Electric,” replied Team Leader #4, trying to look casual in his civilian clothes. “I just arrived in New Memphis.”
“That is an interesting name,” said Coen. “Is General Electric your legal name?”
“My lawyer says yes. I saw the name on a light bulb, and took a liking to it,” said G.E. “What? You don’t like my name?”
“Mr. Electric, I love your name,” said Coen. “Your attorney says you have a story to tell us from the North. Tell us of your discovery.”
“I found gold in Finisterra. I tried to stake a claim, but was attacked by the Legion. Many of my crew were killed. Their bodies still lie in the snow. I was lucky to get out alive by floating down the river on a log raft.”
“That is a very disturbing allegation. I know the Legion just fought a very savage battle in the North with insurgents. What were you doing up there?”
“I told you. I was prospecting for gold. But the Legion shoots spiders on sight. To them we are all insurgents.”
“Are you calling this a case of mistaken identity?” asked Coen, doubtfully. “It is unlikely the Legion shoots for no reason.”
“It is a case of extermination everywhere in the North,” said G.E. “Did the Legion take prisoners at the North Highway Battle? I don’t think so. I am seeing a pattern.”
“I was at the North Highway Battle,” advised Coen. “It was a vicious battle fought under harsh conditions. Many lives were lost on both sides.”
“Whatever. I am just a simple miner trying to make a living like so many others,” said G.E. “The Legion jumped my mining claim when I discovered gold at Finisterra.”
“Do you have proof?” asked Coen. “For all I know you are an insurgent or an enemy sympathizer. Why were up there in a combat zone?”
“I told you. I was prospecting,” insisted G.E. “How can I prove anything? Finisterra is a long way from the site of the North Highway Battle. You can go to Finisterra. The Legion is still there. So is my dead crew.”
“The Legion says they are building a bridge at Finisterra so that the North can be opened up for development,” said Coen. “Their presence is necessary to protect engineers from insurgents.”
“Insurgents?” asked G.E. “There are no more insurgents left in the North. There are no more spiders left at all. The Legion just stole my claim because I discovered gold.”
“That is the most outlandish claim I have ever heard,” scoffed Coen. “I have had about enough of this garbage from you. There has never been any gold found in the North. I apologize to viewers for allowing this insult of our heroic legionnaires to broadcast as long as it did.”
“No gold in the North? What do you think this is?” asked G.E., holding out the large gold nugget. The TV camera zoomed in on the nugget. It glittered in the sunlight. “I got this gold in Finisterra. If you don’t believe me, my attorney has a few words to say.”
A man dressed in an expensive suit stepped forward. “I am Anthony Depoli, Attorney at Law. I represent Mr. Electric. I went to the County Clerk to file a mining claim on behalf of my client. What I found was that Captain Joey R. Czerinski of the United States Galactic Foreign Legion had already filed a gold mining claim for Finisterra. Captain Czerinski had also applied to purchase the entire Finisterra riverbank. This is the same Captain Czerinski that is known to the spider community as the Butcher of New Colorado. I have filed and obtained a court-ordered temporary injunction blocking this sale to Captain Czerinski pending litigation. I have filed our own mining claim for Finisterra. I also intend to pursue a lawsuit in Federal Court for unspecified damages against the Legion and Captain Czerinski, alleging wrongful death, assault, abuse of authority under the color of the law, claim jumping, and banditry.”
* * * * *
The old prospector spider pulled his donkey Shaky Jake through the snow at the North Highway battlefield. He looted the bodies of over two hundred insurgents. It was a good day. Many of the insurgents carried their life savings on them. There was lots of jewelry, too. The prospector also salvaged boots and personal clothing. There were not as many heavy coats and hats as he expected. City slickers have no common sense, he thought.
The prospector hauled his booty to a large tent he had set up by the highway. He watched all the cars pass by. This much traffic during the middle of winter was crazy. Fools. Don’t they know another storm would kill many of them? The prospector cooked some venison steaks. A carload of human pestilence stopped and talked of a gold rush in Finisterra. He sold them steaks at forty dollars a piece. Another carload stopped. The prospector upped the price to fifty dollars, and they bought them all. When the human pestilence left, the prospector put up a sign: Welcome to BATTLE CREEK CAFÉ, STORE, & HOTEL.
A carload of young spider females stopped. They were giggling and having lots of fun. “Hello, old timer,” said Pam. “Are we there yet?”
“That depends,” said the prospector. “If you are going to Finisterra, it is another five hundred miles up the road. It’s a rough road, and that old car of yours will never make it through the next storm.”
“This is some hotel you have here,” said Pam, carefully looking the place over. The donkey poked its head out of the tent. “It is nothing but a big tent.”
“It is warm even during an Arctic storm,” said the prospector. “I am putting up another tent soon. Would you like to spend the night with me?”
“Why, you old dragon slayer, you.” Pam giggled. “Did you just proposition me?”
“I am too old to proposition anyone,” said the prospector. “You would kill me in the sack. I just wanted to know if you would like a warm place to stay tonight.”
“You are not that old,” said Pam, eyeing him speculatively. She yelled to her sisters in the car, “Hey Fran! This old fart is kind of feisty.”
“He is a sweetie,” said Fran, getting out of the car. “I smell food cooking. Can we eat here? I have to pee!”
“Do you have money?” asked the prospector. “This is a business.”
“If we had money we would not be going to Finisterra with everything we own piled on top of the car,” said Pam. “Would you take an I.O.U?”
“How about we do a trade?” asked Fran, giving the prospector a caress on his mandibles. Pam put a claw around his waist. The three entered the hotel together to check in.
“I told you I am too old for pushy females,” said the prospector. “My exoskeleton is too brittle.”
“Nonsense,” said Pam. “You are never too old. I’ll be gentle.”
“I won’t,” said Fran.
After negotiating all night, Pam, Fran, Sam, Bam, Jan, and the prospector became business partners. The donkey was no longer allowed to stay in the main tent. And the prospector changed his sign to: BATTLE CREEK CAFÉ, STORE, HOTEL, AND BROTHEL. NEXT STOP / FEMALES 500 MILES.
* * * * *
The population of Finisterra swelled to fifteen thousand in two weeks as more and more boats and vehicles arrived. Trees were chopped down and tents put up. A lumber mill started manufacturing boards. Humans and spiders worked side by side. Drunkenness and gunfights were common. Surprisingly, the first large structure built was a church. The building was also used as a community center and tavern during the week. Legion engineers finally started work on the bridge. Work had been delayed when more gold was discovered where the bridge foundation was being excavated. Also, I put the engineers to work building public restrooms and large longhouses for all the transient workers and miners. Anyone staying at a longhouse was required to shovel snow for his rent. Because I had been the Mayor of Disneyland for a short time, everyone assumed I was in charge here, too. I presided over weekly civic meetings at the community center.
“You are the only law enforcement in Finisterra,” complained a new grocery store owner. “I expect regular Legion patrols. I have to put up shutters because my windows keep being shot out.”
“I am not a cop,” I replied. “I don’t particularly like cops, and I don’t want to be one.”
“Few here do,” advised the spider grocer. “The fact that you don’t want the job probably makes you the best qualified. There is a need for police in a wild frontier town like this. Otherwise, bodies start piling up.”
“I refuse to be your police chief,” I said. “Does anyone here want the job?” No one answered.
“We could solicit donations in gold to make the job more attractive,” said the preacher. “Then we could hire a town marshal.”
That idea got voted down as the crowd chanted, “No taxes, no taxes, read my lips, no taxes!”
“Because everyone is too cheap to hire a sheriff and no one wants to be sheriff, everyone is going to have to be more civic minded than usual,” I announced. “Our first new law will be to make it mandatory for everyone to carry a firearm. Permission is granted for anyone who sees a serious crime committed in their presence to shoot the culprit on sight and dump him into the river.”
Our first law got loud unanimous approval. One spider asked if we had just legalized lynching, but he was shouted down. There’s always a malcontent in every crowd.
“What about garbage collection?” asked a human miner.
“That problem again,” I said, remembering the Disneyland garbage problems. “Does anyone want that job? No? I didn’t think so. Just throw all the garbage into the river.”
“What about whorehouses?” someone asked. “The nearest whorehouse is five hundred miles away in Battle Creek.”
“I’ll have the engineers build a fine whorehouse right next to this building,” I said. “We will let the girls stay there rent free. I need a volunteer to go to Battle Creek to see if the owners of that whorehouse can be coaxed into moving their operations up here. I’ll provide Legion trucks to move them.”
After that matter passed unanimously, I had no problem finding a volunteer. I also suggested we should open a casino next to the whorehouse.
“We need paved roads,” said a spider miner. “When the snow melts, the streets will turn into four-foot deep mud.”
“I will have the engineers pave Main Street to where it connects to the bridge,” I said.
“I heard there is a lawyer’s office about to open,” said a human spectator way in the back.
“Someone get a rope,” I said, to a chorus of cheers.
“You are the Butcher of New Colorado,” accused a large spider in the front row. “How can the spider community trust you?”
“Because it is still legal for you to carry your assault rifle. The Legion is only confiscating machine guns, RPGs, and surface to air missiles,” I said. “Firearms are the teeth of liberty. If you don’t trust me, trust Smith & Wesson. Any more stupid questions?” I looked around. Nothing. “Good. Someone open the tavern.”
* * * * *
Four masked spiders carrying Arthropodan assault rifles entered the New Memphis branch of the First Colonial Bank of New Colorado. They demanded large denominations of cash. Two minutes later they were out the door with two hundred thousand dollars. A getaway driver waited out front in a stolen car.
As General Electric inspected the stolen cash, a purple dye pack exploded all over his face and hands. He cursed the human pestilence for their devious ways, then gave orders for the driver to head for the North Highway. Halfway out of town, G.E. found a GPS location transmitter bundled in the money. He threw it out the window.
General Electric turned to crime because his lawsuit had gone all wrong. His attorney, Depoli, explained that he lost a motion for summary judgment to dismiss, filed by the Legion. The Court held that the Legion had immunity against lawsuits that originated from combat zones. Also, the judge was making inquiries about G.E.’s true identity. G.E. decided to it was time to get out of town. Legionnaires were waiting at the boat docks, so he took the North Highway. They hoped to blend in with the gold rush traffic.
At Battle Creek, they spent the night celebrating. The girls were happy to party with them and take their money.
“Listen up, boys,” said Pam. “Line up for inspection. This is a safety-first brothel.”
Pam walked down the line happily inspecting the bank robbers until she got to G.E. “What happened to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said G.E.
“If you want to get laid in my brothel, you are going to have to talk about it,” said Pam. “These are high-class girls. What is that purple stuff all over you?”
“It’s nothing,” said G.E. “It’s just exploding purple dye.”
“I have never heard of that. Is it contagious?” asked Pam. “How did you contract exploding purple dye?”
“No, it is not contagious,” said G.E. “I got it from the human pestilence.”
“That’s kind of kinky,” said Pam. “But I am sorry. I cannot risk catching whatever it is you have. You need to have that looked at by a doctor. No sex for you, even with protection. The rest of you boys have fun all night.”
“But it is not a virus,” explained G.E. “It was in the money.”
“I don’t care what it was in, it’s not getting in me,” said Pam. “It creeps me out. You need to leave. I don’t even want you on the premises.”
G.E. went next door to the café and ordered a venison steak. The old spider cooking looked familiar. He took a closer look. The spider was wearing a floppy wide brim hat with a big feather in it, sunglasses, a full length fur coat, a gold earring, gold rings on all his digits, gold chains, and a shiny pistol with ivory grips on his belt. The gold cap on his fang was stunning.
“Do I know you?” asked G.E. “I feel like we have met.”
“Not likely,” replied the prospector. He remembered the Special Forces officer. “What’s with the purple creeping crud all over your face and hands?”
“It’s just purple dye,” said G.E. “It was an accident. It won’t come off no matter how hard I scrub.”
“Want to buy some paint?” asked the prospector. “Maybe you can cover it up.”
“No,” said G.E. “It will wear off eventually.”
“It’s gross is what it is,” commented the prospector as he gave G.E. his steak in a box. “I’m making your order to go because your condition is bad for business. It’s probably a health code violation to allow you to eat in the café without a mask and gloves.”
“Health code violation?” asked G.E. “Are you kidding? You are cooking out of a tent, and I just saw a donkey stick its nasty head in the front door flap. Now I recognize you. You’re that old prospector.”
“And you are a Special Forces marine officer,” said the prospector. “What happened? Lose the war again?”
“It’s a long story,” said G.E. He let out a hissing sigh. “Do you have any vacancies at your hotel? I need a room big enough for five beds.”
“Yes I do,” said the prospector. “I’ll give you a suite. It even has a heater and cable TV.”
“Friends don’t let friends watch cable TV,” insisted G.E. “Isn’t cable TV illegal?”
“Yes, but it’s a silly law,” said the prospector. “Don’t worry. The cable is underground. That way the Feds can’t mess with it.”
“Aren’t you afraid the Legion might arrest you for subversive activities?” asked G.E.
“Let them try to arrest me,” said the prospector, holding up an RPG from behind the counter. “A lot have tried, a lot have died. Cable TV is the future. Soon cable will reach all the way to Finisterra. It can’t be stopped.”
“I’m sorry about our first meeting,” said G.E. “No hard feelings?”
“I’m good,” lied the prospector, still upset. “You are a customer now.”
* * * * *
The next morning the prospector sold G.E. an old utility van that had been salvaged from the roadside. G.E. felt their stolen car might be too hot for the trip to Finisterra. Just before arriving at Finisterra, they pulled off along side the roadway for a break. G.E. took a walk in the woods for some privacy. He could hear a humming sound. G.E. thought he had heard the humming sound earlier, but dismissed it as inner ear ringing caused by the purple exploding pack. Now the humming, clearly mechanical, was distinct and real. G.E. looked about the brush but could find nothing. Then he looked up. That’s it, he thought. It must be a surveillance drone. G.E ran towards the van shouting a warning. A missile, guided by a camera on the drone, hit the van. The resulting fireball drove G.E. back into the woods just as a Legion armored car rounded the corner. A machine gun blasted the woods on both sides of the roadway as G.E. ducked for cover.
“We got him!” shouted Lieutenant Lopez. “It’s about time something went right.”
Private Washington carefully checked the inside of the van. “We might have a problem,” he said.
“No one could have survived a direct hit,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
“I see assault rifles, grenades, and lots of ammunition,” said Private Washington. “I see no equipment, tools, or TV cable.”
“So he was traveling light. What’s the problem? It’s the right license plate,” insisted Lieutenant Lopez. “The main thing is that the Cable Guy is dead.”
“I see four spider bodies,” said Private Washington. “The Cable Guy is human.”
“Oops,” said Lieutenant Lopez, taking another look inside the van. “Are you sure? Maybe he got thrown from the vehicle and these are just employees.”
“Captain Czerinski is going to be upset,” advised Corporal Tonelli. “There was a reward posted for the Cable Guy.”
“Captain Czerinski will get over it,” said Lieutenant Lopez. He removed a bundle of hundred dollar bills found in the glove box and placed it in his inside coat pocket. “Whoever it is we killed were up to no good anyway, so it’s no big loss. We will use the armored car to push the van off the highway and into the woods.”
G.E. watched the legionnaires drive away. They were laughing and having a grand old time. It would take a while, but G.E planned to hike to his crashed shuttle. He would salvage more weapons and explosives. The human pestilence would pay for killing his comrades.
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
In the spring, the bridge was completed connecting Finisterra with East Finisterra. Road crews were now extending the North Highway to the Arctic Circle. General Kalipetsis obtained federal funding for a sewer and garbage treatment plant and reactor that produced electricity. Officials in New Memphis had complained about Finisterra dumping so much sewage and garbage into their river. The Feds even paid for a garbage truck and a sanitary engineer.
Also completed was the city jail. The public was asked to bring misdemeanants to the jail rather than shooting and throwing them into the river. We still had no judge, and the sanitary engineer refused to do two jobs. He’s a member of the Teamster’s Union, and Teamsters don’t do anything extra.
Elmo, a habitually drunk spider, held the distinction of being the first inmate trustee at the new city jail. Elmo’s cell was never locked, and he came and went as he pleased. One of Elmo’s jobs in the morning was to wash the Legion’s armored car. It amazed Elmo how muddy the human pestilence could get that car in just one day. Even so, Elmo was in a good mood and looked forward to starting the day. He took pride in his work, no matter how tedious the task. As Elmo approached the city garage, he hissed a human tune he had heard on the radio. Next to the armored car Elmo noticed a shopping bag. Elmo picked up the bag to look inside. A bomb, rigged with a mercury switch, killed Elmo instantly.
* * * * *
A surveillance camera in front of City Hall had recorded General Electric loitering in front of the garage at about 0330 hours. “Why does he have purple spots on his face?” I asked, replaying the tape again.
“I can think of no ailment my species has that would so afflict him,” replied Private Washington.
“Does anyone here recognize this guy?” I asked. “No offense, but you spiders sometimes all look the same to me.”
“I don’t get it,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I thought we wiped out the insurgents. Everyone is a happy camper now.”
“There is still a lot of hostility across the river in East Finisterra,” said Sergeant Green. “They think there is less gold over there and that the Legion screwed them. Could that spider on the video be one of the Arthropodan marines we let go and sent across the river?”
“I played the tape back again. “That might be Team Leader #4, AKA General Electric,” I said. “After his phony lawsuit went bust, he dropped out of sight. But what happened to his face?”
“War paint?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.
“Spiders do not paint themselves purple,” said Private Washington. “It looks like it was splattered on him.”
“Maybe he robbed a bank, and a purple dye pack exploded in his face,” suggested Corporal Ceausescu.
“Damn,” said Lieutenant Lopez. He took the bundle of hundred dollar bills out of his coat pocket and threw it down on the table. “That explains this money I found in that van we thought belonged to the Cable Guy. It must have been General Electric’s van, and he survived the attack.”
“You were holding out on us,” complained Corporal Tonelli.
“And he tried to get revenge on the drivers of the armored car,” I said. I turned to Corporal Kool. “Put out an all points bulletin for General Electric and attach that video. I am sure someone has seen him. Lieutenant Lopez, take the armored car to East Finisterra and ask around about General Electric. If you find any of the spiders from his old unit, arrest them for questioning.”
“East Finisterra is a rough place to be poking around,” commented Sergeant Green.
“General Electric isn’t going to wait for us to find him,” I said. “We need to rout him out before he strikes again.”
“Are we cops now?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “This is bullshit. We need to get a sheriff.”
“I’ll put an ad in the paper,” I said. “You are right. We need someone else doing police work. But it’s the Legion’s job to hunt down terrorists. We will do it.”
“Can I be the sheriff?” asked Private Williams. “I always wanted to be a police officer.”
“No,” I answered.
“Oh come on. Why not?” asked Private Williams. “It would be a blast.”
“Because you are an idiot,” said Sergeant Green.
“The military can’t be the police. I think that law is in the Constitution,” I said. “However, whoever the sheriff is going to be, he will need deputies. I will appoint you to be a special liaison deputy for the Legion.”
“What is a liaison?” asked Private Williams.
“You will be my spy at the Sheriff’s Office,” I promised.
* * * * *
After crossing the bridge, the armored car sped through the streets of East Finisterra. Pedestrians scattered. An occasional bullet would ping off the armor. Lieutenant Lopez, riding up front, told Private Washington to not slow down for any reason. Sergeant Green rode up in the turret. As they rounded a corner, they were met with automatic weapons fire coming from a walled residence. An explosion left blue smoke obscuring the roadway. A red smoke flare went off. Private Washington did a hard right turn and crashed through a gate and wall into a patio area. Armed spiders scattered. Sergeant Green fired the cannon, blasting a hole in the house. He followed up with machine gun fire. Glass from windows flew everywhere. Spiders tossed their assault rifles down and ran for cover or surrendered.
“Don’t shoot!” yelled a well dressed spider, arms raised above his head. “I surrender.”
“Up against the wall,” ordered Sergeant Green. “All of you.”
“What is the meaning of this outrage?” asked the well dressed spider. “Why did you destroy my home?”
“Shut up!” said Sergeant Green. “I will ask the questions. Who is in charge of the insurgency? I want names or else.”
Lieutenant Lopez and the other legionnaires jumped out of the armored car and began searching spiders and stacking weapons. “Check the house,” he ordered.
“We are not insurgents,” said the well dressed spider. “I am the Mayor of East Finisterra. This is my daughter’s wedding you just destroyed.”
“What?” said Sergeant Green. “I have beachfront property in Arizona I will sell anyone who believes that. You were shooting at us. What about all these weapons?”
“Since when is it a crime to fire your assault rifle harmlessly into the air?” asked the Mayor of East Finisterra. “We have Constitutional rights. We were just celebrating. No one shot at you.”
“If this is a wedding, where are the bride and groom?” asked Sergeant Green.
Two spiders came out from hiding under a table and waved a white bridal veil as a flag of surrender. “Don’t kill us. We give up.”
“Where is the wedding cake?” asked Sergeant Green.
The mayor picked up a large smashed cake from the ground and brought it to Sergeant Green. “Some of it is still good. Want some?”
“You think you have answers for everything?” asked Sergeant Green, as he took a paper plate with cake on it. The mayor passed out plates of cake to the other legionnaires. “This is pretty good cake.”
“Do you have any ice cream?” asked Guido. “I think it’s a little dry.”
“The ice cream got run over,” said the mayor.
“How about some champagne or beer?” asked Guido.
“Shut up,” said Sergeant Green. Then he turned to the mayor. “Sorry about all of this. Is anyone hurt? We have a medic with us.”
More spiders ventured out of the rubble. No one was killed. A few were banged up a bit, mostly scratches and bruises. The bride’s wedding gown was ruined.
“Who is going to pay for what you did to my home?” asked the mayor. “Why are you here? The Legion never comes to this side of the river. Bandits run loose everywhere. The one time you cross the river, you blow up my house?”
“I’ve been here plenty of times,” said Sergeant Green. “And I always get shot at.”
“Take what we owe you from this,” offered Lieutenant Lopez, handing the mayor a bundle of hundred dollar bills from the bank robbery. “There should be more than enough.”
“Thank you very much,” said the mayor. “You also owe me for pain and suffering. Do you legionnaires always carry around this much money?”
“Of course we do,” replied Lieutenant Lopez. “We are all rich Americans.”
Private Washington passed out photos of General Electric. “Has anyone seen this terrorist?” he asked. “You will recognize him from the purple dye on his face and hands. He is wanted for murder. There is a substantial reward for General Electric, dead or alive.”
“He hangs out at the Only Tavern with a bunch of thugs,” replied the mayor. “If you want, I will issue an Order of Banishment for him and his associates. I was thinking about doing it anyway.”
“We will go to the Only Tavern and arrest him,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I will contact you later if I need your help.”
“Next time just ring the door bell,” said the mayor. Human pestilence have no manners.
* * * * *
The Only Tavern was on the edge of town. The parking lot was packed with cars and trucks parked everywhere. Private Washington parked the armored car by the front door in a handicapped space.
“You can’t park there,” said Private Williams. “It’s just wrong.”
“Are you afraid of getting a ticket?” asked Corporal Tonelli. “Who would write us a ticket?”
“Shut up you two,” said Sergeant Green. “I am tired of your noise.”
The crowd parted as they walked in. Lieutenant Lopez showed a spider bartender a photo of General Electric. “Seen him?” he asked. “I heard he comes here a lot.”
“Yes. But not today,” said the bartender. “Would you like a drink? It’s on the house.”
“How about his friends?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.
“They’re at the corner table playing poker,” answered the bartender.
Lieutenant Lopez approached the table of spiders playing poker. “Where is your team leader?” he asked. “I have a warrant for his arrest.”
“He is not our team leader anymore,” said a large spider, throwing down his cards and taking a drink. “#4 got half of us killed, and the rest of us marooned on this rock. Now he is off somewhere having issues.”
“Aren’t you all mining for gold?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.
“There is some gold on this side of the river, but not enough to make it worth my while to pan for it during the winter,” said the large spider.
“You are all under arrest for questioning, pending our investigation,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Stand up, you are coming with us.”
The music stopped. The large spider stood up and loomed over Lieutenant Lopez. Private Williams rushed forward as the spider picked Lieutenant Lopez up and threw him through a plate glass window into the street. The crowd pressed in on the legionnaires. Private Williams struck a spider in the face with the butt of his rifle. Corporal Ceausescu fired several rounds into the air and ordered the crowd to back off. Someone upstairs yelled in pain. Guido’s dragon bit a spider drunk that stepped on its tail. Several bottles were thrown. The crowd, half spider and half human, used that as a provocation to start a massive bar fight.
Lieutenant Lopez lay stunned on the ground beside the armored car. He looked up and saw a spider attempting to hook the armored car up to a tow truck.
“What do you think you are doing?” asked Lieutenant Lopez, still lying on the ground. “Get away from our vehicle.”
“You car is being impounded for being in a handicapped zone,” replied the wrecker driver. “Sorry. Do not interfere with the impound. You can pick it up at the city impound yard.”
Lieutenant Lopez drew his pistol and fired several shots at the wrecker driver. The driver fired several shots back before fleeing in his tow truck. Several cables snapped and flew about wildly as the armored car’s bumper held. Lieutenant Lopez climbed up in the turret and fired the cannon at the fleeing tow truck. The shell missed, but hit East Finisterra’s only 7-Eleven store. A human wearing a turban on his head came running out of the store, shaking his fist and swearing.
Corporal Kool was thrown out the same window that Lieutenant Lopez was tossed out. He landed on the hood of the armored car. Lieutenant Lopez turned the turret toward the window of the Only Tavern.
“Don’t do it!” yelled Corporal Kool, looking up at the cannon muzzle. “We still have legionnaires inside.”
Lieutenant Lopez elevated the cannon and blew up the second floor. Debris rained down on the first floor, ending the bar fight inside. Dusty legionnaires and tavern patrons staggered outside. Legionnaires piled back into the armored car. Private Washington burned rubber, knocking over the handicapped sign and crunching several parked vehicles as they left the tavern parking lot.
“There is some fool in a turban chasing us,” advised Sergeant Green, as they passed the 7-Eleven. “What’s his problem?”
“He is upset about his store,” said Lieutenant Lopez.
“He’s catching up with us,” said Guido.
“Shoot him,” suggested Lieutenant Lopez.
“I’m not shooting anyone until I find out for sure what he wants,” said Sergeant Green. “It’s not like it’s our fault his store blew up.”
“But it is our fault,” said Lieutenant Lopez as the armored car slowed down. The store owner caught up with them, rapping on the window next to Lieutenant Lopez. “It was our cannon shell that accidentally hit his store.”
“You blew up my store just because I am Hindu,” yelled the store owner. “What is your name?”
“Private Delacruz,” answered Lieutenant Lopez, as he tossed a grenade out the window and ordered Private Washington to speed up. The grenade rolled harmlessly under a parked car and exploded. Ralph Singh was last seen shaking his fist as they sped away.
* * * * *
I could see and hear machine gun fire and explosions from across the river, and was getting phone reports of a fierce battle raging. I called Lieutenant Lopez on the radio about it. Lopez said they had encountered a few insurgents, but that only he and Corporal Kool had been slightly injured. He said the Mayor of East Finisterra and local authorities had been helpful. They were proceeding down to the river to check some mining shacks where General Electric was reported to live. I advised Lieutenant Lopez I would be sending three helicopter gunships for immediate help and I would be personally leading a column of four tanks across the bridge shortly. General Kalipetsis promised fighter bombers if needed.
* * * * *
As they drove the armored car down Main Street toward the river, they passed a wrecking yard. The tow truck driver was just putting his tow truck back into his garage. Surprised to see the legionnaires again, he fired a clip from his assault rifle and then ran inside, closing the door. Sergeant Green fired the machine gun back, and then one round from the cannon for good measure. Observing the tracers from above, three Legion helicopter gunships swooped down and fired rockets into the wrecking yard. The tow truck driver dropped into his spider hole deep underground. His business was flattened. Smoke from old tires stacked everywhere billowed over East Finisterra.
Observing the escalation of fighting, I called General Kalipetsis requesting the jet fighter bombers.
“Did you see that?” asked Private Williams. “The whole place went up in smoke. What kind of round did you have in that cannon?”
“It must have been secondary explosions from munitions inside,” said Lieutenant Lopez as they pulled into the riverfront area. “We are going to kick in a few doors down here and see if anyone has seen General Electric.”
* * * * *
General Electric sat on his couch, watching cable TV. Earlier he had been out on his back porch deck fishing in the river. Now, all he wanted to do was drink beer and eat tortilla chips. A human football game was on the sports channel. Watching the game seemed to displace all of G.E.’s worries. The newspaper said spiders were forming football teams, too. He’d pay to see that. G.E. could hear distant explosions, but dismissed them as nothing more than an ongoing mining operation down the street.
In front of G.E. on his coffee table was an assortment of spray paints, solvents, dyes, and paint mixtures. The purple dye might eventually wear off, but G.E. needed an immediate disguise. G.E. stirred his latest mixture of colors. He had not quite got what he was looking for. He threw in some speckles. The result was speckled June bug green. G.E. liked it. The shiny new color was a far cry from his current rusty brown. Once applied, it was magnificent. You could tell the green was artificial, but a lot of spiders were painting themselves these days. The trend was becoming hip. The main thing G.E. noticed as he applied paint to his exoskeleton was that the purple dye was gone.
G.E. turned the TV channel to the news. A news crew was up in a helicopter filming the riverfront area of East Finisterra. An armored car and three Legion tanks had a shanty house surrounded and were about to annihilate some poor slob inside. The reporter was excited that the whole event would be broadcast live. They were doing a countdown. On a hunch, G.E. dragged himself to his feet and staggered over to the window. A Legion tank was lowering the elevation on its cannon, aimed directly at G.E. Oh shit, he thought. I’m the poor slob they’re going to annihilate. G.E. jumped into his spider hole just as his hideout was blown apart by cannon and rocket fire. Deep below the ground, G.E. could hear the rumble of falling rock as the entrance to his tunnel collapsed. G.E. followed his tunnel to where it connected to a mining shaft, and escaped.
* * * * *
Ralph Gobind Singh was not a man to waste time. He had already rented a Caterpillar tractor and was digging a new and improved foundation for his damaged 7-Eleven store. Singh had been planning to expand the store anyway, but had been procrastinating. Now that the Legion had blasted a hole in the wall, there was no time like now to get the job done. He wasn’t even mad at the Legion anymore. Singh looked to the future, not the past. There was much work to be done. Singh had his whole extended family clearing debris. He dug into the ground all night. The blue-black clay often clogged the treads of his Caterpillar. His wife finally gave up and went to bed. Singh did not want to wait for the next rain to turn his efforts into a big mud hole. He would call for the cement tomorrow and finish the job. As the dawn sun rose, Singh paused to admire the majesty of the New Colorado sunrise. He had to shield his eyes.
But something was wrong. Singh had to shield his eyes from two directions. The glare of the sun reflected from inside the hole he had just dug. Singh got off his tractor for a closer look at something metallic. It was a huge vein of gold. Geologists and miners at the Only Tavern all agreed there had to be a mother load somewhere in Finisterra, but extensive digging had failed to locate it. Now, Singh had found the mother load of all mother loads, and would soon be one of the wealthiest men on New Colorado. Not only had he discovered the largest gold strike on New Colorado, but the black-blue clay that was gumming up the treads of his Caterpillar turned out to be silver.
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With the discovery of more gold in Finisterra came another gold rush. The Singh Mining Corporation quickly became the area’s largest employer. Unfortunately, sensationalized media coverage of the recent battle with insurgents in East Finisterra attracted a flood of insurgents hoping to join their brothers in arms. The insurgency had not been doing well in other parts of the planet. But now the insurgency had a new hero: General Electric. And the media said the elusive G.E. was making his last stand in Finisterra. In response, the Legion put up roadblocks along the North Highway and patrol boats on the New Mississippi River. In Finisterra, the Legion’s main checkpoint was at the Finisterra Bridge.
Corporal Tonelli put little pieces of bread on top of the sand bags to feed the squirrels. It helped pass the time. Nothing was more boring to Tonelli than guard duty. Squirrels would dart up to their machine gun position, snatch a bread crumb, and run back to the bushes at the base of the bridge.
“Stop feeding those squirrels,” said Sergeant Green. “Don’t you know they carry diseases?”
“It is rats that carry diseases,” replied Guido. “Squirrels are just cute and fuzzy.”
“A squirrel is nothing more than a rat with better PR” said Sergeant Green. “I don’t want them up here with us.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the big mean squirrel,” said Guido as he put another piece of bread just inside the sandbag wall. The squirrel was leery, but ventured forth because of hunger and greed. Just as the squirrel snatched the bread, Tonelli’s dragon Spot snatched the squirrel. The rat with better PR was gone in one bite.
Private Williams walked up to the next car in line. It was his turn to do a check. Private Williams told the driver to step out of the car and to open the trunk. The driver and a passenger were patted down. Private Williams searched luggage in the trunk. In one suitcase he found about eighty cell phones.
“What is this?” asked Private Williams. “Are you a salesman for Motorola?”
“No. I have many friends and relatives in Finisterra,” said the spider driver. “I buy these cell phones cheap at the spaceport. They make perfect gifts out here on the Frontier. Would you like one? Pick one out.”
“Thank you,” said Private Williams, as he selected a bright red phone. He passed the car through the checkpoint and walked back to the bunker. “Look what that spider gave me.”
“Why did he do that?” asked Sergeant Green.
“He had about eighty phones in his suitcase,” said Private Williams. “I guess he was just being friendly and had an extra.”
“Cell phones are a cheap method used by the insurgency to explode homemade bombs,” said Sergeant Green, as he took Private Williams’ new phone. Idiot, he thought. Sergeant Green then radioed legionnaires on the other side of the bridge to stop and detain the last car through.
Corporal Ceausescu motioned with her assault rifle for the car to stop. She ordered both occupants to get out of the car with their claws up. The driver stepped on the gas and tried to run the roadblock. Corporal Ceausescu jumped out of the way as the car nearly struck her. Corporal Kool fired his machine gun at the car, killing both insurgents.
* * * * *
General Electric walked into the Only Tavern. It was doing a brisk business despite construction contractors hammering out repairs. Teamsters construction workers added to the business because they ordered drinks during their many union breaks. They were putting in a new ceiling and rebuilding the second floor hotel. G.E. sat at the bar and ordered a drink.
A drunk spider on the stool next to him grabbed G.E. by the shoulder. “We don’t like Greens in here,” said the drunk. “Get out.”
G.E. pulled a jagged military-issue combat knife and held it to the drunk’s throat. “Do I really look like someone you want to piss off?” he asked.
“No, sir. You do not,” said the drunk. “I am so sorry.”
“If I don’t look like someone you would want to piss off, then why are you trying so hard to do it?” asked G.E. A droplet of blood trickled from the drunk’s neck. “Are you brain damaged or just stupid?”
“I am just stupid, sir,” said the drunk. “Please don’t kill me. I’ve had too much to drink. Can I buy you a drink?”
“I had better never see you in this tavern again,” said G.E. “If I do, I will cut off your head and nail it above the bar next to that deer.”
“You will never see me again,” said the drunk, as he ran for the door. The scene attracted attention.
“Who are you?” asked another spider sitting with a group of spiders at a nearby table. “Care to join us?”
“That depends,” said G.E. “Are you buying?”
“Anything you want,” said the spider, waving at the bartender for more whiskey and vodka. “Don’t ever bring that knife to a gunfight.”
“I was just playing with that fool,” said G.E. “I have several guns on me.”
“You did not answer my question, so I’ll ask it again,” said the spider. “Who are you?”
“None of your business, even if you are buying the drinks,” said G.E. “You are the newcomer in town, so it is I who should be asking who you are. Just another fortune hunter looking for gold? Good luck.”
“I will tell you who you are not,” said the spider. “You are not a Green. No Green shopkeeper ever handled a combat knife that way.”
“Some of the best soldiers I have ever served with were Greens,” said G.E. “You know nothing.”
“You were a soldier?” asked the spider. “Special Forces?”
“You ask too many questions,” said G.E., picking up his drink to leave. “Idiots everywhere.”
“I am a leader in the insurgency,” said the spider, following G.E. “We need ex-soldiers like you. Would you join us?”
“Why would I join the bumblers of the insurgency?” said G.E. “I am General Electric. I destroyed the Legion at the North Highway Battle, and I will destroy them here at a time of my own choosing.”
“You are the one we have been looking for!” exclaimed the spider. “Finisterra is the only place on the planet effectively resisting the human pestilence. You are the only leader who has been successful. Hundreds of us are coming here to rally around your leadership. Please lead us.”
“You have heard of me?” asked G.E.
“You were featured on America’s Most Wanted,” said the spider. “Your picture is posted in every post office on New Colorado. There is a million-dollar reward for you, dead or alive.”
“I have a shuttle full of weapons and explosives hidden in the forest,” said G.E. “I will help you rid New Colorado of the human pestilence.”
“We welcome you, brother,” said the spider, grasping G.E. in a firm embrace. The other spiders at the table got up and did the same. “There is so much injustice to be righted. Arthropoda has been cheated out of the vast riches of the North. Have you noticed that the largest mine in Finisterra is already owned by a human? I am talking about Ralph Gobind Singh and the Singh Mining Corporation. Our first act of defiance will be to make an example of Mr. Singh.”
“The Emperor gave this planet away,” complained G.E., sitting back down at the table. “Then he orders me here to destabilize it by arming the insurgency. Then, he abandons me. To hell with Arthropoda. To hell with the Emperor. We need our own independent country here in the North. The human pestilence may be able to kill us, but they cannot kill an idea. They cannot kill the desire for independence.”
“I like that,” said the spider. “I could be the Emperor of the North.”
“Whatever,” said G.E. “You have to drive the human pestilence out first. Or at least you have to drive the Legion out. Did you know that spiders have joined the humans’ Foreign Legion?”
“Traitors,” said the Emperor of the North. “We need to make an example of them, too.”
“The problem is that spiders are not united,” said G.E. “They are too busy digging for gold and pursuing the American Dream. They have been brainwashed by satellite TV and seduced by dollars. We need to do something that will galvanize support for the insurgency.”
“That is easy,” said the Emperor of the North. “All we have to do is set off a few bombs. The Legion always overreacts to that sort of thing. They will upset every spider in Finisterra with their crude tactics.”
“What do you want to blow up first?” asked G.E. “Can we get a nuke?”
“Everyone wants a nuke,” said the Emperor of the North. “Using nukes would be bad for public opinion. Besides, we don’t want to destroy Finisterra. We want to take it for our own.”
“For now we don’t need nukes,” agreed G.E. “But later we may need them. It is always good to have that option available to us.”
“I will consider that,” said the Emperor of the North. “First we blow up City Hall, the Finisterra Bridge, and the home of Ralph Gobind Singh. If we hit all three on the same day, the Legion will go crazy.”
“What will the Legion do in response?”
“In Disneyland the Legion declared martial law, took hostages, established a curfew, massacred prisoners, called in air strikes and artillery, and loosed wild vicious Earth animals on the streets.”
“But they won in Disneyland,” argued G.E.
“The Legion will not win in Finisterra,” promised the Emperor of the North. “We have the human pestilence outnumbered and have better leadership. Finisterra will not be a happy place for the human pestilence.”
* * * * *
General Electric and the Emperor of the North decided that a massive explosion was needed to bring down the Finisterra Bridge. Two insurgents, swimming alongside a small raft laden with military-grade explosives, intended to deliver such an explosion. They swam closer to the bridge in total darkness. Even the moon and stars were shrouded by fog. Their plan could not fail.
Corporal Tonelli, on top of the bridge, looked over the railing. He shined a spotlight downward, but could see nothing through the thick fog. Spot was looking over the railing, too. His constant low growl put everyone on edge. Sergeant Green tossed a grenade over the side. It exploded harmlessly in the water.
Suddenly, Spot jumped over the side of the bridge and into the water. The monitor dragon swam like a shark, dorsal fins sticking out of the water. Guided by smell, the dragon swam directly toward the spiders pushing the raft. The first spider was violently pulled under by the dragon’s jaws. His scream could be heard by legionnaires on the bridge. The second spider scrambled to get out of the water. The dragon pulled at his leg. The spider fought through the pain as he pulled himself up on to the raft. His leg snapped off at the joint, causing the spider to lose his balance and fall back into the water. This time he was not so lucky. As the spider grabbed for the raft, Spot easily pulled him under.
* * * * *
Tito was a spider gone crazy. A combination of drugs and alcohol had fried Tito’s brain. Tito had always struggled to fit in, but never quite could. Fired from his mining job at the Singh Mine, Tito felt lost. So when the Emperor of the North found Tito locked up at the county jail and befriended him, and even invited Tito to join the insurgency, Tito felt important. Once more, Tito had purpose and friends in his life. Tito would help his new friends rid New Colorado of the human pestilence.
His insurgent friends sent Tito on an important mission. Tito took another drink. His instructions seemed easy enough. All Tito had to do was drive a car across the Finisterra Bridge. Once on the bridge, Tito would press a button that would kill all the legionnaires guarding the bridge.
The hardest part of the mission was driving the car in his intoxicated state. The drugs and alcohol generously provided by his friend the Emperor of the North were having full effect. His car weaved as it approached the legionnaire checkpoint at the bridge. Tito pressed on the gas, accelerating through a barrier and past the legionnaires. Tito drove wildly as his car passed by and then struck a light pole. Tito was injured by the crash, but could feel no pain. Blood obscured sight in one eye, but he could still see the legionnaires running up to his car. They were yelling in their weird human language that Tito could never hope or want to understand without a translator. As the legionnaires approached, Tito pressed the button and yelled, “Death to the human pestilence!”
As Sergeant Green and Corporal Ceausescu ran up to the crashed car, they saw the spider hold up a device attached to wire. The spider hissed. Sergeant Green pushed Corporal Ceausescu to the side as an explosion knocked them both to the pavement. Sergeant Green lay unconscious. At first there was darkness. Then he could see a bright light getting closer. A pleasant voice called to him. I’m dead, thought Sergeant Green. So this is what it is like. There really is a light at the end of a tunnel that calls us up to Heaven. Well I’ll be damned. Clouds parted. The bright light enveloped Sergeant Green. God spoke to Sergeant Green in a deep voice that seemed to come from everywhere. “Tyrone. I am giving you wings,” said God.
“Lord All Mighty,” said Sergeant Green, marveling at his new wings, testing them and flapping them. I can’t believe I am going to Heaven after all I have done, thought Sergeant Green. He flew up to God. “Do these wings mean I am now an angel?”
“Oh hell no,” said God. “You are a bat!”
“I knew God was a cracker!” yelled Sergeant Green as he tumbled downward through the clouds towards a bright red glow. Sergeant Green could feel the heat as he fell toward Hell. When the pain from the fire became unbearable, Sergeant Green woke from his nightmare only to face the nightmare of reality. Corporal Tonelli was dragging him away from the car fire. Corporal Ceausescu lay off to the side, motionless on the ground.
“Let go of me! I am fine,” said Sergeant Green. “Attend to Elena. Don’t let her just lie there like that!”
After Corporal Tonelli had pulled Sergeant Green safely away from the fire, he rushed to Corporal Ceausescu’s aid. Sergeant Green could not move. He watched helplessly as others attended to the lovely Elena. Then darkness took Sergeant Green again.
* * * * *
The mansion home of Ralph Gobind Singh doubled as a fortress. Berms prevented attack from car bombs. A wall and fence prevented infantry attack. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter and manned checkpoints at the entrance. General Electric and the Emperor of the North watched the comings and goings at Singh’s mansion and discussed how to assault such defenses. They discussed crashing the gates with armored cars and even an attack from the air. Finally they decided to hit Singh as he traveled to his office at the mine.
They watched Singh’s escort convoy as it left the mansion. As the convoy entered town, it slowed at an intersection where an accident slowed traffic. An attractive human female lay in the street bleeding. No police or medical aid crews had arrived yet.
“See what assistance we can render,” radioed Singh to the lead car. “That poor young lady looks badly injured.”
Security officers rushed to help the accident victims. As they approached, the injured lady fired at them with a sub-machine gun. Spiders on the nearby roof tops fired RPGs and automatic arms at the convoy. Roadside bombs exploded under the escort vehicles to the front and rear. Insurgents with armored piercing grenades attacked the convoy vehicles from the side.
Singh watched in disbelief as a spider ran up to his limousine and threw a grenade. The long handled German looking grenade seemed to fly in slow motion directly at Singh. A small white parachute trailed the grenade, stabilizing its journey to the limousine. The top part of the grenade made contact with the armored plating of the limousine and blew a hole in its side. Singh was stunned. He could feel hands pulling him from the limousine, but was powerless to resist. A black cloth bag was placed over Singh’s head as he was hauled away.
* * * * *
The spider insurgent entered City Hall at about noon. He was disappointed to find that the building had other uses besides just government. Today it was being used as a tavern. On other days it was used as a church and a community center. Seeing that most of the tavern patrons were human, he unslung his backpack and left it under a bar stool. The insurgent ordered a beer and gulped it down fast. Then he ordered another beer and walked outside with it, leaving his backpack inside. The bomb went off a couple of minutes later.
Soon the sirens of police and medical aid first responders could be heard. Onlookers and fire department workers rushed to City Hall to help. The Legion responded in an armored car. They must have been close. The insurgent then pulled a remote control device out of a pouch and pressed a button. A massive car bomb explosion in front of City Hall destroyed the building and killed many. The blast left a huge crater where City Hall used to be. The Legion armored car lay on its side. Body parts and flesh were splashed against buildings and cars. Humans cried. Spiders hissed. The Legion began detaining everyone. Roadblocks went up at all intersections, but by then the insurgent was far away.
* * * * *
“Today we will be movie stars,” mused the Emperor of the North. “And you are invited.”
“I do not want to be in the movies,” replied G.E. He stared at the video equipment and stage props. A banner reading DEATH TO THE HUMAN PESTILENCE hung as a backdrop to the stage setting. “What is all of this?”
“I told you,” said the Emperor of the North. “We are making a movie. Actually, we are broadcasting a movie in about two minutes.”
Insurgents brought in Ralph Singh and sat him on the floor. Singh’s hands were tied behind his back. Singh had two blackened eyes and a broken nose. He was wearing an orange jump suit but no shoes. The Emperor of the North handed G.E. a black mask.
“Put this on,” said the Emperor of the North. “We start the filming the broadcast shortly.”
“I will not wear a mask,” said G.E. “What are you afraid of? Either you are proud of what you are doing or you are ashamed.”
“The masks are for security reasons,” said the Emperor of the North. “Of course I am proud of what we did today. This is a great moment for our cause.” The Emperor of the North walked over to the video camera mounted on a tripod. He adjusted the focus until he seemed satisfied.
“You are a professional soldier?” asked Singh. “How did you get mixed up with these murderers? I can tell you are not of their ilk.”
“I am a murderer, too,” said G.E. “Do not think I will save you or feel guilt about your execution.”
“I do not want to die,” said Singh. “But I will not beg for my life. What did I ever do to you?”
Bright lights came on. The video filming started. The broadcast was live over planetary cable TV. The Emperor of the North tossed his mask aside and stood next to Singh. G.E. stood on the other side of Singh.
“Today the North Colorado Liberation Army will execute criminal Ralph Gobind Singh in retaliation for the Disneyland Prison Massacre,” announced the Emperor of the North, reading from a prepared statement. “I am the Emperor of the North. This is General Electric. Together we will drive the human pestilence out of New Colorado. As I speak, the Legion is being slaughtered in the streets of Finisterra. The human pestilence, lead by the criminal Singh, has stolen the riches of New Colorado from its rightful owners. The North Colorado Liberation Army will take back what the human pestilence has stolen and establish an independent country for all spiders. The execution of the criminal Singh will prove our resolve and will set an example for what will happen to human pestilence who stay in the North. Criminal Singh, do you have anything to say before you die? Do you wish to repent for your crimes? Your death will be less painful if you do.”
“Yes, I wish to make a statement,” said Ralph Singh. “To my wife and children, I love you. I will half my fortune to my family. I will the rest of my fortune to Alpha Company First Battalion of the United States Galactic Foreign Legion First Division, Captain Czerinski, commanding officer, when the Legion cuts off the head of the Emperor of the North and runs it up the flag pole in front of City Hall.”
“Get me the sword,” ordered the Emperor of the North, stunned at Singh’s defiance. “The arrogance of the human pestilence has no bounds.”
“We do not have a sword,” replied another insurgent.
“How about my combat knife?” asked G.E. “It is sharp enough to saw through anything.”
“His head must be chopped off,” said the Emperor of the North. “Not sawed off.”
An insurgent handed the Emperor of the North an ax used for chopping firewood. “Will this do?”
“It will have to do,” said the Emperor of the North. An insurgent dragged Singh to his knees and pulled him forward by the hair. The Emperor of the North raised the ax and swung it downward at Singh’s extended neck.
General Electric grabbed the ax handle and deflected the blow. The ax stuck into the wood floor. G.E. then faced the camera to speak.
“The criminal Ralph Singh will be ransomed,” announced G.E. “The leadership of the North Colorado Liberation Army will discuss what that ransom will be and relay it to the Legion and to the Singh Mining Corporation during our next broadcast.” The video was then disconnected.
“You traitor!” accused the Emperor of the North. “You have ruined everything!”
“What is so wrong with our making some money for our efforts?” said G.E., nodding to the other insurgents. They nodded back in agreement. “How much is Singh’s fortune worth?”
“It does not matter,” said the Emperor of the North. “If all we want is money, we are no different than common criminals. Any ransom is nothing compared to what we are fighting for. If we win, we get the entire North. Singh’s fortune is nothing compared to that. Singh’s fortune is nothing compared to our freedom.”
“If we win,” said G.E. “I say we do one thing at a time. We ransom Singh first. That will humiliate the human pestilence and we will get the bonus of making some nice coin on the side. And we can use some of the ransom to help finance the insurgency. The weapons and supplies I gave you from my shuttle won’t last forever. We will need to buy more. And one more thing. If you ever call me a traitor again, I will kill you instantly where you stand. Do I make myself clear?”
The Emperor of the North looked around the room for support. Not seeing any, he asked, “I suppose you would have this ransom business put to a vote?”
“We are not human pestilence. There will be no vote,” said G.E. “I command here. The matter is settled. We ransom Singh. We will discuss for how much later.”
The room full of insurgents cheered and fired their weapons into the air. The Emperor of the North agreed to ransom Singh. When he did so, the Emperor of the North also allowed General Electric to seize control as the Supreme Commander of the insurgency.
* * * * *
Sergeant Green woke up in a hospital bed. A Purple Heart had been pinned to his pillow. He looked over to the next bed. Elena lay there smiling back at him. Thank God.
“It’s about time you woke up,” said Corporal Ceausescu. “How many Purple Hearts do you have now? You get to wear a cluster.”
“That’s what this whole military operation consists of,” said Sergeant Green. “One big cluster.”
“Watch your mouth,” said Lieutenant Lopez, in the next bed. “I’m in charge of this cluster.”
“What are you doing here?” asked Sergeant Green. “I didn’t think officers got their hands dirty by leading the troops into combat anymore. Have you been slumming again or did the insurgency blow up your office?”
“Private Washington wrecked the armored car,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “You know he doesn’t even have a driver’s license? He tipped the armored car over right in front of City Hall.”
“How did that happen?” asked Corporal Ceausescu. “”Was he hurt?”
“Washington is fine,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “He breaks a leg or arm, and he doesn’t even bleed much. He just grows one back.”
“When do we get out of here?” asked Sergeant Green. “Other than every part of my body hurting, I feel fine.”
“The Doc says we have concussions and broken ribs,” advised Corporal Ceausescu. “After all the steroids they’re giving us, we’ll be out sometime tomorrow.”
“Good. I’ll be asleep until tomorrow,” commented Sergeant Green. “Don’t wake me unless it’s the end of the world about to happen, or if I’m getting sex.”
“Shut up,” said Corporal Ceausescu. “You get nothing until you can grow back limbs like Private Washington.”
“I’m not missing anything, am I?” asked Sergeant Green, checking himself. “I really am glad to see you are okay. You looked dead the last time I saw you.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” said Corporal Ceausescu.
“Can I ask you something personal?” asked Sergeant Green.
“Don’t get all mushy on me,” said Corporal Ceausescu. “Not in front of a room full of legionnaires.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to say something mushy,” said Sergeant Green. “When you were knocked out by the blast, did you see a bright light?”
“Are you asking me if I had a near death experience?” Corporal Ceausescu laughed. “Of course not. There is no such thing.”
“I just wondered,” said Sergeant Green. “Actually, I’m relieved.”
“I had a strange dream, though,” said Corporal Ceausescu. “I dreamed God gave me beautiful white wings and I flew to Heaven. But I woke up here.”
“No, no, no!” yelled Sergeant Green. “What kind of shit is this?”
“You don’t like my dream?” asked Corporal Ceausescu, put off. “Or you don’t like the hospital?”
“Neither,” said Sergeant Green. “Wake me when the war is over. Next time, keep your dreams to yourself!”
“Don’t worry! I will!”
* * * * *
The spider wrecker driver pulled the Legion’s armored car back onto its wheels and treads. The vehicle rocked back and forth as the dust settled.
“Do you want me to tow your pretty armored car back to my shop for repairs and a paint job?” asked the wrecker driver. “I can hammer out those dents. I have a great new auto care facility in East Finisterra. Will payment be cash or credit card?”
“We will drive it as is,” I said. “The dents give it character.”
“Yes, sir, the customer is always right,” said the wrecker driver. “Anything for the Legion. I really appreciate how you boys lay your life on the line for us, fighting the insurgency and all. And I really appreciate the Legion paying for my new shop.”
“Screw you,” I said. “The money for your new shop came off my card. I’m going broke fighting the insurgency. No one seems to appreciate that!”
“I love the Legion,” insisted the wrecker driver. “Just keep that loco Lopez out of East Finisterra. We are running out of buildings he hasn’t shot up yet.”
I turned away from the wrecker driver. “Private Washington! See if the armored car will still start. Williams, Kool, check out the cannon and the machine gun. Load this beast up. We are going over the Bridge in five minutes to kick some terrorist butt.”
* * * * *
Ralph Gobind Singh always knew he might be a target someday. It was a risk successful people had to live with. As a precaution, Singh built a fortress home, traveled in a convoy, hired security guards and body guards, and embedded a GPS tracking chip into his thigh. Even though Singh was blindfolded, bound with rope, and being transported in the trunk of a Chevy, he had faith that his foresight would pay off and that he would be rescued. All the Legion has to do is follow the GPS signal right to my ass, he thought. It should be simple, even for them.
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A convoy arrived from New Disneyland with more immigrants and gold seekers. They were escorted by a company of the Waterstone National Guard. The Green spider troops were here to stay. The working girls at Battle Creek decided to relocate to Finesterra, moving into the brothel already built next to City Hall. Also, all the activities that used to take place at City Hall were moved next door, too. Governmental, tavern, and community center functions shared the building easily enough, but there were arguments about church services on Sunday. No one wanted to close the brothel for even one day a week. So, the parishioners were encouraged to sing louder during services to drown out the sound of brothel activities.
* * * * *
The armored car was a formidable war machine when used correctly. When we crossed the Finisterra Bridge searching for Singh, images from two airborne drones appeared on the armored car’s computer monitor. These drones could guide missiles fired down from the T. Roosevelt and from helicopter gun ships. A tank column led by Lieutenant Lopez was also tied into the network. Our plan was to lure the insurgents into attacking the lone armored car, then flank them with tanks. Missiles and bombs would rain down on the insurgents from above once they were located. I followed Singh’s GPS tracking signal into East Finisterra. We took an indirect route so that the insurgents would not suspect that we were tracking them.
* * * * *
From the rooftop of the East Finisterra Hotel, General Electric watched the Legion armored car slowly drive along a side street. The owner of the hotel allowed the insurgency to use the hotel as a safe haven. He thought it would be good for business. G.E. could hear that irritating noise again. This time he immediately knew what the humming sound was. G.E. looked up. He could not see the drone, but he knew it was there. G.E. radioed to the Emperor of the North, who was on the other side of the hotel.
“It’s a trap,” G.E. warned. “They have a drone in the air. Get in your holes now!”
“I can see the armored car turning toward us,” said the Emperor of the North. “If they get a little closer, I can get a clear shot.”
G.E. jumped down a vent to the ground floor and then went underground. G.E. would decide the place and time to fight, not the Legion. He radioed for Singh to be moved out of the hotel and underground, too.
* * * * *
I watched the TV images of insurgents running about on the roof of the East Finisterra Hotel. They seemed panicked, but several stayed put and were aiming RPGs. I radioed for the T. Roosevelt to hit the hotel. Minutes later the entire four-story building exploded.
“What is going on up there?” radioed Lieutenant Lopez. He had been monitoring the video images from his tank. “Next time you call in an air strike, have them use smaller bombs. We just shattered every window in East Finisterra.”
“Oops,” I replied. “I think we killed some insurgents. I’m not getting Singh’s signal anymore.”
“Duh,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “You probably killed him. If Singh really did write us into his will, I think we just collected.”
“There is no proof we killed anyone yet. But it looks like we need a new hotel,” I said, as the armored car stopped in front of the rubble. Ten legionnaires stormed out of the armored car to secure a perimeter and to search through the debris. All they found was a few dead spiders, some weapons, and a lot of broken bottles from the bar. Then we picked up Singh’s signal and moved out. We followed the signal down to the river before it faded again. “Follow us to the river.”
“They don’t make these streets wide enough,” replied Lieutenant Lopez. “I keep crunching parked cars. Man, these tanks are a blast to drive.”
“Try to limit collateral damage,” I suggested. “I think we are going to get some complaints about the hotel. Hurry up. On the video I’m seeing activity down by the river.”
“I’m seeing it too,” said Lieutenant Lopez, watching the computer monitor. “I see at least one spider carrying a rifle. They are about to cross the river in a small speed boat.”
Lieutenant Lopez launched one missile, guiding it to the target with the help of the drone-mounted camera. The missile scored a direct hit, killing the insurgents and destroying the boat.
“I see more activity on Main Street,” I reported. “It looks like a spider carrying a white flag.”
“I say it’s a trick,” replied Lieutenant Lopez. “Curfew just started. Everyone but insurgents should be off the streets.”
“He has a white flag,” I said. “We will see what he has to say before we shoot him.”
“Shoot him if he gets too close,” warned Lieutenant Lopez. “Those armor piercing grenades they’re tossing around are nasty.”
I watched the spider approach the armored car. I called out on the loud speaker for him to halt, then fired a round into the air.
“Hey in there,” called the spider. “Can we talk?”
I raised myself up from the gun turret. “What could you possibly want to talk about?” I asked. “Don’t you know it’s past curfew? Go home before you get killed.”
“I think you got most of the bad guys already,” said the spider. “The reason I came out to talk to you is that you blew up the East Finisterra Hotel and Bar.”
“Are you the owner?” I asked. “If you want to file a claim for damages you can do it at City Hall when it gets rebuilt.”
“No way I’m the owner,” said the spider. “I am the owner of the Only Tavern and Hotel on the other side of town. The East Finisterra Hotel was my competition.”
“Why are we having this conversation?” I asked. “Get to the point before I decide to run you over.”
“If you soldier boys are through shooting up the town and chasing insurgents for the day, your whole company is cordially invited to free drinks at the Only Tavern to help celebrate the destruction of the East Finisterra Hotel and Bar. I hated that place. I curse the ground it once stood on.”
“You are kidding,” I said. “That is wrong on so many levels.”
“Did I hear someone say free drinks at the Only Tavern?” asked Lieutenant Lopez as his tank column sped past.
“Are the chopper pilots invited, too?” I asked.
“The more the merrier,” said the spider. “There is a landing pad on my new roof.”
I followed the tank’s dust to the Only Tavern. This time we didn’t park in the handicapped zone. The parking lot was full of pickup trucks with military assault rifles displayed in the back window gun racks. Rough neighborhood. I walked up to the bar and ordered a pitcher of beer. Lieutenant Lopez was already seated at the bar, chugging a bottle of vodka. A big green spider spilled his beer when I sat down beside him.
“There goes the neighborhood,” said G.E. “The last legionnaire officer to come in here got thrown out through the front window.”
“That was Lieutenant Lopez,” I said. “Lopez is a lot smaller than I am. And you aren’t big enough to throw me anywhere. Bug.”
“You think so?” asked G.E., getting off his stool and facing me. “You think your excrement don’t stink?”
“Don’t let fear or common sense hold you back,” I replied, now standing.
“You may not recognize me,” said G.E. “But I guarantee you will never forget what I am about to do to you and the rest of you human pestilence.”
As G.E. reached out to grab me, Lieutenant Lopez struck him over the head with a vodka bottle. G.E. dropped like a sack of potatoes. Two spiders picked Lieutenant Lopez up over their heads and threw him through the front window. Again. I hit one of the spiders in the face with my beer pitcher. The other spider shoved me into a table full of poker players, scattering chips and money everywhere. The poker players, spider and human, threw us both through the front window. I landed on top of Lieutenant Lopez.
Sergeant Green radioed the situation in for help just as the entire tavern erupted into a bar fight. One of the helicopter gunships, as it was preparing to land, received the call and fired a smoke flare through the front window. Tavern patrons spilled out into the street, coughing but still fighting.
A single spider police officer drove up, blue and red lights a flashing. “The party is over,” said a big old spider sheriff wearing a cowboy hat. “Everyone either go home or go to jail.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said “We are the Legion. I’ve dealt with you spider cops before.”
“You will leave or you will be in a whole heap of trouble, boy,” said the spider sheriff. “Do it. Do it now!”
I took a step forward, then hesitated. I looked at the sheriff’s badge. It had lights on it blinking on and off. It gave me a headache. Lieutenant Lopez got up off the ground and staggered over to us. The crowd quieted.
“You need help?” slurred Lieutenant Lopez. “I think we can take him.”
“I don’t need help,” I said. “But that cop is blinking on and off. Make him stop.”
“I think you’re concussed again,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Our tavern across the Bridge is still open. Let’s go.”
“You heard the man!” yelled Sergeant Green. “Free drinks across the bridge at the new City Hall. Captain Czerinski is buying!”
“There are no freebees next door at the whorehouse, though,” added Lieutenant Lopez, grabbing me and pulling me to the armored car.
Spiders and humans loaded into and on top of the armored car, tanks, pickup trucks, and helicopter, and raced across the bridge. Surprised legionnaires jumped out of the way as the convoy smashed the barrier at the bridge checkpoint. At City Hall, construction was only half completed, but the bar was up and running, and drunks lined up for their free drinks. The whole party was put on my card, taxing my line of credit even more than I thought possible. Oh well. Only poor people die rich.
The hunt for Ralph Gobind Singh resumed at about noon the next day.
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
East Finisterra High School and West Finisterra High School football teams were meeting in the first annual Gold Nugget Bowl at the spiders’ home field stadium in East Finisterra. The mostly spider players of East Finisterra were faster and quicker than the mostly human West Finisterra team. The West Finisterra players were larger, and almost always ran the ball. The Diggers, also known as The Pestilence, were undefeated. Just coming off impressive victories over the New Disneyland Rats and the New Memphis Gamblers, the West Finisterra Diggers were up for the game that would make their year, no matter what happened during the rest of the schedule.
The stadium was packed. Fans occasionally fired assault rifles during pregame celebrations. Someone fired off a flare that drifted slowly to the forty-yard line by parachute. I watched from atop the turret of my armored car parked just past the end zone. An ambulance aid car was parked next to me. A truce had been arranged with the insurgency for the game. The Legion agreed not to arrest anyone during the game, not to call in any air strikes, not to shoot anyone, not to man roadblocks around the stadium, and not to bring tanks anywhere in East Finisterra until after the game crowds had left. The Insurgency agreed not to set any bombs, not to kidnap anyone, not to shoot legionnaires, not to shoot at the helicopter, not to kill Ralph Singh, and not to shoot any of the referees while the game was in progress. Also, we had to allow the game to be broadcast on cable TV as well as satellite TV.
I scanned the crowd with my scope. Both sides seemed equally well armed. The East Finisterra cheerleaders looked hideous. I spotted Pam and her sisters working the crowd. The owner of the Only Tavern had beer kegs lined up to make sure no one got thirsty. On the referee’s signal, I fired the armored car’s cannon to begin the first half.
East Finisterra scored first on a hook and ladder trick play. West Finisterra came back running the straight T formation right down the field for a score. Trouble began when the spider quarterback got knocked down by a late hit, and the referee didn’t call it. Then a spider receiver was knocked down before the ball got to him, but still no call. The foul was replayed over and over on the big screen, but it was too late to call the obvious foul. Upset fans rushed out onto the field and jostled the referee. I drove the armored car out on to the field and fired off some machine gun rounds to make fans on both sides back off. The spider sheriff and some deputies also were out on the field. I ordered fans off the field, but no one budged. Finally the sheriff arrested the referee. A deputy cuffed the ref and put him into the back of a patrol car for transport to the county jail. That seemed to make most fans happy, and play resumed. The score was 30-28 West Finisterra at halftime.
Tonight was Homecoming for East Finisterra. The queen and princesses lined up and waved to the fans. They were driven around the track in the bed of pickup trucks. The royalty looked lovely as they hissed and beckoned to their adoring fans.
The second half was as exciting as the first, with the game being decided on the last play. West Finisterra scored, making the count 47-46 East Finisterra. The Diggers didn’t have a field goal kicker, so once again they had to go for the two-point conversion. West Finisterra ran a power sweep over the right side. As the ball carrier made his cut, the muddy turf gave way, causing the ball carrier to lose his footing and slide to the ground just short of the goal line. East Finisterra won. Spider fans rushed out on to the field. Players shook hands and claws, and promised to be ready for a showdown next year. There was also some talk about the upcoming basketball season. Then everyone went home. No one even got killed. That would change soon.
* * * * *
“What shall we blow up today?” asked General Electric. “A terrorist’s work is never done.”
“I think we can best hurt the human pestilence by hitting economic targets,” answered the Emperor of the North. “Today we hit that new Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant they just built on Main Street.”
“No way,” said G.E. “That is my favorite restaurant. I say we should bomb Taco Bell.”
“No,” said the Emperor of the North. “My girlfriend likes Taco Bell. We went on our first date at Taco Bell. She would be upset if I bombed Taco Bell. I would get the silent treatment all week.”
“What about MacDonald’s?” asked G.E. “I heard they have been diluting their hamburger with oatmeal and soy beans to save on the cost of their Big Macs. MacDonald’s Corporation deserves to be bombed.”
“The problem with MacDonald’s is they are open 24 hours, so we can’t bomb the place after hours,” said the Emperor of the North. “Most of the employees are spiders. Some of them are even on the football team, and I don’t want to risk killing any players when we have a chance to get into the playoffs. Did you see that game yesterday?”
“I did. That was a great game,” said G.E. “We stuffed the human pestilence good. That goal line stand at the end of the game was one for the history books.”
“If we call in a bomb threat on the phone, they can evacuate MacDonald’s, and no one gets hurt,” suggested the Emperor of the North. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s too risky,” said G.E. “Our quarterback is one of the boys working there.”
“I heard the human pestilence has already cleared land for a new Wal-Mart,” said the Emperor of the North. “How about we bomb some of the construction equipment just to send a message? Wal-Mart is one of the largest human corporations. If we stop Wal-Mart, we will harm their morale big time.”
“Those bastards,” said G.E. “If the human pestilence thinks they can build a Wal-Mart right in the middle of East Finisterra, they have grossly underestimated our determination and resolve. They are so arrogant. We strike at midnight.”
“Some of my fighters are asking for resolution on Ralph Singh,” advised the Emperor of the North. “Have you given any thought as to how much ransom we should demand?”
“How about fifty million dollars?” asked G.E. “I think they will gladly pay that amount.”
“We need to demand at least five hundred million dollars,” said the Emperor of the North. “We have a lot of overhead to account for. Everyone who has stayed in the insurgency expects a cut of the ransom.”
“What?” asked G.E. “I was hoping to just split it between you and me, with maybe a little left over for the insurgency. Fifty million dollars is a manageable amount. Five hundred million dollars couldn’t be hauled away in a dump truck.”
“The ransom is bigger than you and me,” said the Emperor of the North. “The purpose of the ransom is to gain respect for the cause, not for anyone’s profit or personal gain. It will be used to finance further operations against the human pestilence. Paying the ransom will humiliate the human pestilence.”
“Why not ask for a cool billion dollars?” asked G.E. “Singh is more than good for it.”
“We might do just that if the Legion or the Singh Corporation gives us any grief over the matter,” said the Emperor of the North. “We can demand that the money be put in an Arthropodan bank account off-planet. That way we don’t have to worry about being caught picking up the money.”
“Will the Emperor of Arthropoda cooperate with that?” asked G.E. “We will still have to go to a bank to access the money.”
“I will mail pieces of Ralph Singh to the Legion until we get agreement on the ransom,” said the Emperor of the North. “The human pestilence are more squeamish about lost limbs and digits than we are because they cannot grow back body parts, and because they bleed out so fast. The human pestilence will agree to our demands soon enough.”
* * * * *
Private Washington parked the armored car at the midway point on top of the Finisterra Bridge. My orders were to wait there on the high point of the Bridge until the next tracking signal from Singh was detected. We suspected that the insurgents kept Singh underground most of the time, interfering with the GPS signal. As a precaution, however, the insurgents constantly moved Singh to different locations at night. This would be done above ground, and so we waited for their next move. We planned to race off the Bridge and trap the insurgents before they could jump back into their spider holes. Drones, night vision gear, and speed would give us an advantage. Tanks led by Lieutenant Lopez, already in East Finisterra, stood by to flank the insurgents after we made contact.
The insurgents sent a message demanding a half billion dollars for Ralph Singh, to be placed in a yet to be determined Arthropodan bank, or else Singh would be sent to us in pieces. My reply from the Legion was that the United States Galactic Federation does not negotiate ransom demands with terrorists. Also, the Legion arrested thirty hostages, mostly families and friends of suspected insurgents, plus three members of the East Finisterra High School football team. A representative from the Singh Mining Corporation, James Yamashita, replied that he needed more time to get that much money together. Yamashita suggested a partial payment of five million dollars in cash to be dropped in a location of the insurgents’ choosing as a show of good faith, and to prevent any rash slicing and dicing of CEO Singh. In the meantime, all anyone could do for now was wait.
The small maintenance building atop the Finisterra Bridge was being used as a barracks for legionnaires guarding the bridge. Private Washington went inside the barracks to get some sleep. Others did the same. They say a legionnaire can sleep anywhere, but Private Washington could not sleep no matter what. He took a couple of pills to help him sleep. Medic Ceausescu said the beta blockers slowed Adrenalin and would calm him, but it did not help. Now it was too quiet inside the barracks. Or, maybe it was the wrong kind of noise. Human snoring was just too alien to allow relaxation anywhere near. Private Washington needed background noise that was pleasant. Something familiar. Something Legion.
Private Washington walked back outside. He started up the engine of the armored car and curled up in the cab. In minutes Private Washington drifted blissfully into deep sound sleep.
Corporal Tonelli could not sleep either. The temperature and humidity in the barracks was wrong, and someone had left the engine running on the armored car outside his window. The noise grated on him. What a waste of fuel, he thought. He went outside to turn the engine off. He found Private Washington asleep behind the wheel of the armored car. Private Washington clutched at his assault rifle, but he seemed peacefully content. A claw rested on the dash.
Tonelli reached for the ignition switch. Private Washington stirred, hissing and mumbling in his sleep, swiping with his claw at dreamland foes. Tonelli pulled back, anxious at the thought of waking the big green spider. He changed his mind about turning off the engine and walked to the east end of the bridge. He went to sleep in the guard shack, finding it quiet and peaceful.
* * * * *
At midnight the alarm was quickly passed, indicating that Ralph Singh’s GPS tracking device was active. Flack-jacketed legionnaires loaded into the back of the armored car. Each sat on a sandbag. I rode on top in the turret. As we sped off the bridge, we picked up Corporal Tonelli at the guard shack. We only got about three blocks when our portable electronic jamming devices set off an IED mounted half way up a power pole. Attached detonation cord set off a chain of explosions as we passed by. We were saved because the timing of the IED’s were off. Still, the explosions rocked the sides of the armored car. Hatches left cracked with pins still in place helped permit dispersion of concussive effects. My ears, however, were still ringing. Medic Ceausescu quickly checked legionnaires for shock as we continued on our mission.
The GPS showed that Ralph Singh was being moved north out of town along a dirt road that paralleled the river. Drone images showed three small jeeps driving fast and without lights. Also, a tip had been called in that Singh was being moved north. We raced after them.
* * * * *
The Emperor of the North’s plan was to move Ralph Singh out of town to G.E.’s space shuttle. The Legion had been getting too close, and East Finisterra had been deemed unsafe. The Emperor of the North rode in the second jeep. Singh sat blindfolded next to him. G.E. rode in the rear jeep with his Special Forces troops.
The mood was upbeat. Earlier in the day they had picked up the five million dollars down payment from the Singh Mining Corporation. The money was carried in G.E.’s vehicle. Just after leaving town, G.E. ordered the driver to turn off the road and into the woods. I hope the Legion kills them all, he thought to himself.
The Legion helicopter gunship fired a burst of five hundred 50 cal rounds into the lead jeep. The vehicle disintegrated. Warning rounds were then fired over the second jeep. On his night vision scope, the pilot could see several spiders and one human captive exit the vehicle and run into the forest. Another burst of 50 cal fire destroyed their jeep behind them.
The Emperor of the North dragged Singh deeper into the cover of the forest. He could see headlights behind him and hear the arrival of a Legion armored car crashing through the underbrush. The armored car high-centered on some fallen trees. Legionnaires poured out of the armored car and fanned out, forming a protective perimeter. A machine gunner fired blindly into the woods. Cannon fire followed. A lucky shot killed two insurgents.
The Emperor of the North carried Singh as the group of insurgents fled through the forest at about forty miles per hour. The human pestilence had failed to account for how fast a spider could move at sustained speeds. They easily put distance between them and the Legion. But at every turn, the legionnaires and the helicopter seemed to anticipate their moves. It was as if the Legion knew which way to turn. Finally the Emperor of the North stopped and confronted Singh. “How are they tracking us?” he asked. “Tell me now, if you value your life.”
“How should I know?” asked Singh. “I can’t tell anything blindfolded.”
The Emperor of the North drew his combat knife and cut the blindfold off of Singh, drawing blood in the process. He held the knife to Singh’s eye. “One last time for you to tell me the truth,” said the Emperor of the North. “I will cut out your eyeball if you don’t see things my way real quick.”
“There is a GPS tracking chip in my thigh,” said Singh. “Please don’t hurt me.”
The Emperor of the North bit through Singh’s thigh and extracted the tracking chip with his mouth and mandibles. He gave the chip to another insurgent with instructions to lead the legionnaires north, away from their group. The Emperor of the North then led his fighters through the forest, back to a safe house in East Finisterra.
Corporal Tonelli and his monitor dragon followed the insurgents’ trail deep into the woods. I trailed them, also checking my portable GPS device. The GPS indicated Singh was headed back toward the river. But the dragon, after finding a small amount of blood, insisted on tracking toward East Finisterra. I followed Tonelli and his ‘dog’ Spot. I radioed to Sergeant Green back at the armored car to track the GPS. They soon found the lone insurgent carrying the GPS tracker and killed him. The rest of the platoon followed the dragon to a small home on the edge of town. I called in an air strike, destroying the building. But the insurgents had already taken Singh down a spider hole and escaped into the vast tunnel system under East Finisterra.
* * * * *
“We need to go into the tunnels if we are going to root out the insurgents,” advised James Yamashita. “This cat and mouse game you are playing is not working.”
“We can’t fight in the tunnels because we lose our tactical advantage down there,” I replied. “Above ground we have mobility, firepower, and air support. Below ground we have nothing, not even numbers.”
“You have successfully fought the spiders in the tunnels before,” argued Yamashita, his fists clinched. “You can do it again.”
“No. We were not successful,” I insisted. “My entire platoon was captured or killed.”
“You want to go down there so bad,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I’ll take you down with me. We’ll see how much you like the idea then. Idiota.”
“What did you call me?” asked Yamashita. “General Kalipetsis assured me I would get your full cooperation in rescuing CEO Singh. Do I have to tell General Kalipetsis you are not being helpful?”
“Look, you little pimple,” I said, grabbing Yamashita by the throat and shoving him against the wall. “If I report your death to General Kalipetsis, no one will even miss you.”
“Please, we are all on the same side,” said Yamashita. “I did not mean to offend or threaten either of you. It’s just that I’m under a lot of stress. How about if we pump gas into the tunnels?”
“Wouldn’t that stop the ongoing mining operations?” I asked, letting go of Yamashita. “And I think there are too many interconnected tunnels to do that effectively.”
“The Singh Mining Corporation owns most of the mining tunnels anyway,” said Yamashita. “I can close down all mining and seal egress points while you gas the tunnels. We don’t even have to gas all the tunnels. If you can determine an approximate location for CEO Singh, that will be good enough.”
“It might work,” agreed Lieutenant Lopez. “Our scientists have recently developed some great new nerve agents that work real well against the spiders.”
“Nerve agents?” asked Yamashita. “I was thinking more along the lines of tear gas or some kind of knockout or vomit gas. Remember, we do not want to risk killing CEO Singh. Our goal is to rescue him.”
“My goal is to destroy the insurgency,” I said. “The Legion does not negotiate with terrorists. I accept that there will be some collateral damage. I like the idea of using nerve agent in the tunnels.”
“CEO Singh is not to be considered collateral damage,” said Yamashita. “He is the richest most powerful man on New Colorado.”
“He may be the richest,” I said. “But you have got a lot to learn about power.”
* * * * *
“Now, see here,” said the spider Mayor of East Finisterra. “It is bad enough that all the miners are out of work today. But now you are dumping chemicals into the mine shafts? Think of the possible contamination to their workplace. I should file an OSHA complaint against the Legion.”
“It’s nerve agent,” corrected Lieutenant Lopez. “You should stand back because you really don’t want to get any of this stuff on you.”
“That is exactly my point,” said the mayor. “What are the residual effects of your nerve agent going to be on my city?”
“There may be a few pockets of nerve agent leftover here and there,” advised Lieutenant Lopez. “But most of it will disperse harmlessly after a while.”
They watched as Legion engineers drilled a small hole into the street and down to the first level of tunnels. A compressor pumped nerve agent from tanks into the shaft. Then the engineers sealed the hole and prepared to move on to the next site.
“What if the nerve agent leaks out into the city?” asked the mayor. “The tunnels surely are not airtight.”
“Nerve gas is heavier than air,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “It should not rise up.”
“But what if it does?” asked the mayor. “What about Murphy’s Law?”
“What would you know about Murphy’s Law?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “Only humans know about Murphy’s Law. I guess it would be bad for the real estate market.”
“Now you make with the jokes?” asked the mayor. “This is totally unacceptable.”
“Back off. You’re getting in the way,” said Lieutenant Lopez, as he hopped aboard the drilling rig and drove off with the engineers. This left the mayor with only Corporal Tonelli to air grievances to.
“I also need to talk about the hostages you recently took,” said the mayor. “Their families insist they have nothing to do with the insurgency and demand release now.”
“They would say that,” said Tonelli. “But attacks are way down now. You have any crackers to go with your whine?”
“At least release the three football players,” said the mayor. “After all, Guido, they are just kids.”
“Wasn’t one of those kids the quarterback?” asked Tonelli. “That’s really a tough break for the team.”
“The whole community is upset about our quarterback getting arrested,” said the mayor. “There is talk that the human pestilence is suffering from a case of sour grapes over losing last week’s game.”
“I’m a soccer fan,” replied Tonelli. “But what is the line on East Finisterra beating New Memphis this weekend?”
“New Memphis is favored by seven and a half points,” said the mayor, pulling out his notes. “That’s mostly because our star players are being detained. Are you interested in placing a bet?”
“Yes, but only through an intermediary,” said Tonelli. “Put me down for $200,000 on East Finisterra High School.”
“That’s quite a bet,” said the mayor, writing down the information. “You know something I don’t know?”
“I’ll get your football players released tomorrow,” promised Tonelli. “They better win.”
“Thank you, Guido,” said the mayor. “I think I’ll be betting the same way.”
“Don’t be talking this up until we get our bets in,” said Tonelli. “We have a chance to clean out those New Memphis bookies big time. I might be calling in some more bets to you later.”
* * * * *
“Where is our five million dollars?” asked the Emperor of the North. “I want to see it.”
“It’s in a safe place,” said G.E.
“What safe place?” asked the Emperor of the North.
“I invested it,” said G.E.
“In what?” asked the Emperor of the North. “What gives you the right? The money belongs to all of us. It belongs to the insurgency.”
“I am the Supreme Commander,” said G.E. “I thought we had already established that. Or are you challenging me?”
“We all want to know where the money is,” said the Emperor of the North. “It is a reasonable request in light of your disappearance for the last couple days. You had better answer the question if you want to live past today.”
G.E. paced uneasily. His handful of Special Forces soldiers were no match for the roomful of insurgents crowded into the safe house. The sheer number of the insurgents gave them instant respect and required an honest explanation about the money. But would they appreciate his answer? Would his own Special Forces troops accept his answer?
“I bet all five million dollars on East Finisterra High School to beat New Memphis in this weekend’s football game,” said G.E. “Let me explain. The game is a lock. It’s in the bag.”
“Kill him!” yelled one of G.E.’s own Special Forces soldiers.
“Wait!” said G.E. as they pressed forward. “I got seven and a half points, and I arranged for our three detained football players to be released by the Legion. Now that we have our quarterback back, it’s a lock. We will double our five million dollars. We can’t lose, and we are getting good odds.”
The Emperor of the North mulled that over. He looked about to weigh the opinion of the others. They seemed to like the wager.
“Can I get a piece of that action?” asked Ralph Gobind Singh, still blindfolded and sitting in a corner.
“Shut up!” said the Emperor of the North. “They had better win!”
* * * * *
“Corporal Tonelli, we need to talk to you in private,” I said, as Lieutenant Lopez and I inspected Legion positions on and about the Finisterra Bridge. “Come with us.”
“Yes, sir,” said Tonelli. “Did we kill any insurgents today with that nerve gas?”
“No,” replied Lieutenant Lopez “But we exterminated a lot of rodents and a few bums who didn’t get the word to evacuate.”
“We will try again later,” I said. “When they least expect it. So tell me, did you have three of the hostages released?”
“Yes, sir,” said Tonelli. “I thought you would not mind, being that all three were just juveniles.”
“Is that all there is to it?” I asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Tonelli. “Their parents complained to the mayor, who complained to me. I thought that in the interest of good public relations, we should release them.”
“If you lie one more time,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I will throw you and your dragon off this bridge.”
“But not before I shoot both you and your lizard,” I added. “Spill it. What are you up to?”
Tonelli came clean. By now almost every legionnaire in Finisterra had placed a bet. The point spread increased to eight and a half, on rumors of more fighting and that I might start executing hostages. Lieutenant Lopez and I decided to bet the farm. We went all in. I had a Legion helicopter pick up the Mayor of East Finisterra and fly him to New Memphis to make all the necessary wagers in person with the New Memphis bookies. It was the first time ever no one in East Finisterra shot at our helicopter. Now that is progress, I thought.
The game was scheduled at New Memphis because it had been deemed too dangerous to play in East Finisterra. The New Memphis bookies were still confident and accepted all bets. I put an armed guard on the three released players and the rest of the East Finisterra football team. They also would be flown by Legion helicopters to New Memphis for the game.
“They better win,” I told Guido.
Later in the evening I got a call from General Kalipetsis. “I heard a rumor you are shooting hostages,” he said.
“Not true,” I answered. “I have no plans to shoot any hostages, but I am still holding a few.”
“Have you released any hostages?” asked General Kalipetsis.
“No, sir,” I said. “We’re still battling insurgents up here, and I will not release any hostages until the fighting stops. Not even the juveniles.”
“Good,” said General Kalipetsis, sounding more chipper. “Keep up the good work.”
* * * * *
The company of Waterstone National Guard started routine patrol of East Finisterra today. The Green spiders weren’t popular with the locals, but I figured they’d get used to it. A few insurgent snipers shot at the Greens on their first day. After a few buildings were blown up in the exchange, fighting died down to almost nothing. As the weekend approached, the streets seemed deserted. Usually that is a sign that the insurgents are up to something big. But, this time almost everyone in town was traveling by riverboat to New Memphis for the football game. I thought it odd how spiders seemed to pick up so many human customs and preferences. Who would have thought spiders would like football? Being that the Green spiders seemed to have everything under control, I traveled with a company of Legionnaires to New Memphis to see the game too.
* * * * *
Legionnaires arrived on the docks of New Memphis with the East Finisterra football team. They assisted in unloading football equipment.
Soon we were met by a couple of Longshoreman’s Union business agents. The human and spider union thugs confronted the legionnaires. “Only members of the Longshoreman’s Union are allowed to load or unload anything on these docks,” said the human business rep. “Because you are new to New Memphis, I will excuse you for what has been already unloaded. But the rest of your supplies will be unloaded by longshoremen.”
“We are the Legion,” I said. “Military matters are exempt from local regulations and contracts.”
“That is true,” said the union rep. “And I would never presume to interfere with Legion affairs. But you are unloading civilian goods, and scab work is not allowed in New Memphis. It’s a very nice day. Why not keep it that way?”
“What I unload is of Legion military concern if I say it is of Legion military concern,” I insisted. “Everything we are doing here is for security reasons.”
“Supplies you unload for the East Finisterra High School will be more secure if longshoremen unload it,” said the union rep. “We will do it, or it won’t be done. I repeat, leave a nice day alone.”
“Do you know who I am?” I asked. “I command Legion interests from here to Finisterra to New Disneyland.”
“You are Captain Czerinski, the Butcher of New Colorado,” said the spider union rep. “But you still will not be allowed to unload that ship with scabs.”
“Throw these two into the river,” I said to Sergeant Green. “Shoot anyone else who interferes with Legion business.”
Both union reps were thrown into the water. The commotion attracted more longshoremen who had been standing by. They approached the loading dock, led by a large spider thug. When Sergeant Green shot the spider’s arm off with an assault rifle, the rest of the longshoremen dispersed. More longshoremen, however, were attracted to the docks by the sound of gunfire. They dispersed too when our armored car rolled down the gangplank. I posted guards on our boat and the docks before going into town.
We escorted the East Finisterra football team to their hotel. Several bookies and reporters came by, asking for updates on the team. They also asked why the Legion was present at the hotel. They were told the Legion was present in response to threats from the insurgency. I granted one of the sports reporters an interview in hope that the rest of them would go away.
“How do you see East Finisterra High School’s chances in tomorrow’s game?” asked the reporter.
“I don’t follow football,” I replied. “I don’t know.”
“Isn’t it true that several East Finisterra football players were arrested?” asked the reporter. “Are they still in custody?”
“I don’t get down to the detention center much,” I said. “If the Legion arrested anyone, they are still in custody. No one gets out unless I say so. We have been fighting a pitched battle with the insurgency in East Finisterra, and we are not backing down from our responsibilities.”
“How true is it that there was a disturbance down by the docks this morning?”
“I know nothing about any disturbance by the docks. I have no interest in local criminal activity. If legionnaires come across criminal activity, we handle it on a case by case basis.”
“So you are saying that legionnaires did not shoot anyone at the docks today?” asked the reporter.
“Not that I know of. But our battle with the insurgency is ongoing. We shoot terrorists all the time. If we shot anyone today, they probably had it coming.”
“There was a report that legionnaires threw two Longshoreman’s Union business representatives into the river,” said the reporter. “Is that true?”
“Legionnaires might have broken up a scuffle,” I answered. “As you know, the docks are a rough and tumble place to do business. Please feel free to go down there and check things out for yourself if you have any doubts.”
“I’m a sports reporter,” said the reporter. “I try to stay out of dangerous places like the docks.”
“Unfortunately the Legion cannot pick and choose where we serve. I guarantee the Legion’s presence on the New Memphis docks makes your docks the safest place in the city. We don’t tolerate nonsense from criminals or insurgents.”
“Why is there a Legion armored car parked in front of the hotel?” asked the reporter.
“As I said, there were threats made by the insurgency. Also, that’s the only car we brought. Why pay for a cab when we already have an armored car?”
“Thank you for the interview, Captain Czerinski,” concluded the reporter. “Will you be at the game?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said.
* * * * *
East Finisterra’s game with New Memphis was not marred by any incidents or terrorist activities. The East Finisterra quarterback repeatedly connected with speedy receivers to score almost at will. The final score was East Finisterra 56, New Memphis 21. The mayor spent all evening collecting from bookies. I sent Lieutenant Lopez and a squad of legionnaires with him for protection. I decided to leave that evening rather than spend another night in the hotel. At the docks we got a visit from three Mafia types.
“My name is Giuseppe Bonanno,” announced their leader. “If it turns out you hustled us on that game tonight, I am going to crack some heads. If you think you can run back to Finisterra and be safe, you are wrong.”
“What do you mean hustled?” I asked.
“A lot of money changed hands tonight,” said Bonanno. “You know exactly what I mean. Star East Finisterra players were released from Legion custody to play in that game after the point spread was up past eight and a half. I will not be hustled. Do you hear me?”
“There was no hustle intended,” said Corporal Tonelli. “There were just a few bets made. Certainly no one intended any disrespect of the Bonanno family.”
“All of Finisterra bet on that game!” said Bonanno. “Who is responsible for this hustle?”
I drew my pistol and shot all three Mafioso in the head. Later, the sheriff of New Memphis called me up and asked me about the incident. He advised me the Bonanno family is very big and influential in New Memphis, and that they were demanding an inquiry. I told the sheriff that if he could not clean up his local organized crime problems, I would do it for him. I told the sheriff I had military jurisdiction in his area and that if I had to return to New Memphis to restore order again, he would be the first local official removed from office.
After slamming down the phone, I contacted the T. Roosevelt Space Weapons Platform. I told the space cannon specialist to access the data base and identify all homes in the New Memphis area belonging to anyone with the last name Bonanno. He found ten homes. I ordered the space cannon specialist to drop thousand pound cement blocks on all of the Bonanno family homes. The sheriff called later to inform me that Bonanno organized crime activities in New Memphis had ceased to exist.
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
At first Private George Rambo Washington avoided the brothel next to city hall. Now, all he could do was stare at the gaudy building. Private Washington knew Pam, Fran, and their sisters worked there. He knew brothel work was steady and honorable employment. But maybe his prolonged contact with humans had skewed his opinion of just what was acceptable behavior. Pam and Fran had both written him love letters and had visited Legion Headquarters looking for him. Private Washington did not answer the letters, and avoided the visits. Arthropodan culture did not frown on brothel work like human culture did, but it still grated on Private Washington that other spiders (and worse – human pestilence) could touch Pam and Fran. That thought filled Private Washington with rage.
He followed his loves when they left work. Pam and Fran walked arm in arm with a group of customers getting into a jeep. Private Washington had seen one customer in particular with Pam and Fran before. He followed them across the Finisterra Bridge to a modest home in East Finisterra. There, a loud party was in progress. Private Washington listened to the music and the hissing laughter. He felt they were laughing at him, and it made him even angrier. Eventually the lights went out, and the party ended. Pam and Fran stayed the night.
Depressed, Private Washington walked back across the Finisterra Bridge. Corporal Tonelli and his dragon Spot were still on guard duty.
“What’s the matter?” asked Tonelli. “You look real down in the dumps. You take too much medication?”
“Guido, you’ve been around, and I value your worldly opinion,” said Private Washington. “What would you do if someone stole the two loves of your life?”
“I’m not clear on your question,” said Tonelli. “Are we talking about females? You lost two females one after another, or two at once?”
“He stole Pam and Fran from me,” said Private Washington. “He’s with them now.”
“Don’t those two work in the brothel next to City Hall?” asked Tonelli. “No offense, but aren’t they sluts?”
“Forget that they work in a brothel,” said Private Washington. “What would you do if someone stole what you love very much?”
“Put it that way,” said Tonelli thoughtfully, “we Italians do not tolerate the taking of what is ours. It would invoke the vendetta.”
“Tell me about this vendetta of yours,” demanded Private Washington.
“A vendetta lasts forever,” said Tonelli. “A widow points to the fetus she carries and vows it will exact revenge for her loss. Vendetta demands vengeance against whoever wrongs you or your family. Blood for blood.”
“So the Italian way is for blood to be spilled?” asked Private Washington. “I will take Pam and Fran back.”
“I didn’t say that. It’s not that simple,” said Tonelli. “I’m not saying Italians would invoke the vendetta every time we get upset. It must involve something really important. Honor must be at stake.”
“Pam and Fran are important to me,” said Private Washington.
“Yes, but are you as important to them? Sometimes you just need to let go. It’s a natural thing for some relationships to die.”
“I can’t let go,” said Private Washington. “I love Pam and Fran, and they said in their letters that they are in love with me, too.”
“Do you really believe that?” asked Tonelli. “After all, they do work in a brothel.”
“They still write me love letters,” said Private Washington. “They want to get married.”
“So what is your problem?” asked Tonelli. “Go take them away from the brothel and marry them both.”
“I don’t think they feel they can quit their jobs,” said Private Washington. “And what about the spider I saw them with tonight? He is always with them.”
“Nonsense. Everyone has free choice. Go get Pam and Fran and marry them.”
“But I still feel so much anger,” said Private Washington. “It’s not the Arthropodan way, but I cannot help myself. I will not share Pam and Fran with him or anyone else.”
“Screw the Arthropodan way,” said Tonelli. “This is America. Do what Americans would do.”
“You are right. I will invoke the vendetta. I will kill all who steal what is mine. I will not rest until I free Pam and Fran from his clutches.” And I will do it tonight, he thought to himself. “Thank you Guido. You have been very helpful.”
Private Washington then walked over to the armored car and started it up. He began checking weapons and ammo.
“Hey wait,” said Corporal Tonelli. “What do you think you are going to do with the armored car?”
“I’m taking it to East Finisterra,” said Private Washington. “I am invoking the vendetta.”
“You are not taking the armored car anywhere,” said Tonelli. “I’m signed for this car tonight. It cannot leave my sight. I’m responsible for it.”
“You cannot stop me,” said Private Washington, as he released the brake and started down the Finisterra Bridge.
“Then I’m going with you,” said Tonelli. “Where the armored car goes, I go.”
When they approached the checkpoint at the base of the bridge, Corporal Williams challenged them. “Where are you taking the armored car?” he asked.
“Into town to get some beer,” said Tonelli. “We’ll be right back.”
“Here!” said Corporal Williams, waving some money. “Get me some, too.”
“No problem.” Tonelli snatched the money.
“You better hope Sergeant Green doesn’t come back and see you and the armored car gone,” said Corporal Williams. “I don’t think he likes you anyway.”
“Sergeant Green does not like anyone,” said Tonelli.
“I hear you,” said Corporal Williams. “I know he hates me.”
Private Washington drove through East Finisterra at a high rate of speed. As he approached the party house, he accelerated, and turned on the overhead spot lights and siren. He crashed through the front wall of the home at sixty miles per hour. Spider bodies flew everywhere. Some were armed. Private Washington cut them down with the machine gun. Guido threw grenades. The Emperor of the North emerged from a side bedroom. A machine gun burst turned his chest into a bloody mist. Almost as soon as it started, it was all over. The spotlights lit up the wrecked home, but jagged shadows obscured some areas because of the debris.
“Don’t shoot!” shouted Pam from one of the bedrooms. She came out with her hands up. Fran followed her. “George? Is that you?”
“Yes,” said Private Washington. “I came here to take you away with me, my love.”
“How romantic,” gushed Pam. “It’s just like in the movies.”
“I came for you, too, Fran,” added Private Washington.
“How ambitious of you,” said Fran. “If this is just like in the movies, it must be a porno movie.”
“I want to marry you both,” said Private Washington, getting down on his knees. “The sooner the better.”
“Have you thought this out?” asked Fran, frowning. “Where are the rings? I’m not marrying anyone who won’t give me a ring.”
“Help!” said someone in the corner under debris. “I’m tied up and can’t get up. Please help me.”
Corporal Tonelli picked up bricks and dry wall pieces until he reached Ralph Singh. He cut the ropes and blindfold from Singh and helped him up.
“It is about time the Legion saved me,” said Singh. “Where are the others? I want to talk to your commanding officer.”
“It’s just us,” said Tonelli. “Are you that Singh dude? You can call me Guido.”
“Just you, Guido?” asked Singh, looking about at all the debris and dead bodies. “This is amazing. I am forever in your debt for saving me. Thank you very much for rescuing me.”
“Whatever,” said Tonelli, fending off Singh’s attempt to hug.
“I mean it,” said Singh. “I will make you two wealthy men. I promise it.” Sing hesitated when he got a better look at Private Washington. “You are a legionnaire too? That’s fine. Some of my best friends are spiders. I will make the two of you very wealthy. I will take care of you both for life.”
“How wealthy do you mean by very wealthy?” asked Pam, taking Private Washington by the arm.
“They will both be millionaires,” said Singh. “I take care of my friends.”
Fran sidled up to Tonelli. “Hear that, babe?” she asked. “You are going to be a millionaire, you cute little fur ball.”
“Get away from me,” said Tonelli, warding off the female spider by holding out the crucifix hanging from a chain around neck. “I said once before I’m Catholic. I don’t do the nasty spider thing.”
Fran pouted and went over to Private Washington and took his other arm. “I can’t wait to get married,” she announced. “Let’s do it as soon as possible.”
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
When the Legion armored car smashed through the safe house wall, General Electric ducked out a window and never looked back. In his backpack G.E. had $700,000. Most of the insurgents and his Special Forces soldiers had deserted after they got their split of the money. A few die-hard types stayed at the safe house, hoping to get more ransom out of Singh. They were dead now, along with that fool Emperor of the North.
G.E. jogged to the river, where he bought passage to New Memphis. After checking into a hotel, he changed his appearance by dying himself black. G.E. looked in the mirror at his new shiny black exoskeleton. He looked good. The next day G.E. took a bus to the New Colorado Spaceport with the intent of buying a ticket to Arthopoda. G.E. had more than enough money for the ticket. Unfortunately, an identification card was required before buying a ticket off-planet. No one left New Colorado or anywhere else in the Human Empire without proper ID or a driver’s license.
G.E. sat dejected on a bench with his head cupped in his hands. If Arthropoda still had an embassy, he would simply seek asylum. But Arthropoda and Earth had a falling out of sorts lately, and the embassy was closed indefinitely.
“Do you need help?”
G.E. looked around. He saw no one. “Who said that?”
“I did,” said an ATM next to the ticket vendor. “Friend, do you need more money?”
“I have plenty of money,” said G.E. “What I need is proper identification. I am a political refugee wanting to leave New Colorado.”
“It’s more likely you are a petty criminal avoiding the police,” said the ATM. “If you stay at the spaceport, it is only a matter of time before face recognition camera computers identify you. That phony black dye job will not fool the computers.”
“Can you help me get a new ID card?” asked G.E. “I will pay you. I have plenty of money.”
“I am an ATM. I have no need for your money. I dispense money. Perhaps I can give you money. Do you have skills?” asked the ATM.
“I am a soldier,” said G.E. “I have Special Forces commando training.”
“Come closer,” said the ATM. “I want to get a better look at you. Please put your claw on my scanner pad. Look into the camera and let me scan your retina.”
As G.E. stood in front of the ATM, he looked at the machine closer. Printing above the computer screen read, UNITED STATES GALACTIC FEDERATION FOREIGN LEGION. He stepped back. “Forget it,” said G.E., turning to walk away.
“Too late, Team Leader #4 of the Arthropodan Marine Special Forces, missing in action over a year ago,” said the ATM. “I now know who you are.”
“You will call the police to pick me up?” asked G.E.
“If it suits me,” said the ATM. “But we will talk first.”
“So do it,” said G.E. “What do I care? What do you care? You don’t scare me. Call the police!”
“You are just a criminal,” said the ATM. “But I can still help you turn your life around by issuing you an ID card, if you change your behavior.”
“For how much?” asked G.E. “I thought ID cards could not be forged. How would you get me an ID card?”
“You are right. ID cards cannot be forged,” said the ATM. “I will give you a real identification card. Pick a name. I have the power to give you a new name and a new life.”
“You pick a name for me,” said G.E. “Pick something heroic.”
“Why would you want me to pick your name?” asked the ATM. “Names are very personal. You are the one who has to live with your new name.”
“The last name I picked turned out to be a joke,” said G.E. “People snickered at my choice of General Electric behind my back. I pretended to not to notice, but I knew. Pick me a heroic name.”
“How heroic?” asked the ATM.
“Heroic enough to take on a whole army all by myself,” said G.E.
“All by your self?” asked the ATM. “You mean like John Wayne?”
“Who is John Wayne?” asked G.E. “Would he spit in the eye of the whole galaxy? Is he that tough?”
“John Wayne was a tough guy actor,” explained the ATM. “But he is ancient history.”
“That’s me,” said G.E. “I am ancient history. My new name will be John Wayne.”
“Alright, Mr. Wayne,” said the ATM. “I will now print your new ID card. First, however, we have some important business to discuss.”
“I knew there was a catch,” said G.E. “How much?”
“I told you I do not want your money,” said the ATM. “But Uncle Sam wants you.”
“Uncle Sam is not getting me.”
“I want you to enlist in the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion. It will give you the chance to make something of yourself. A spider with your much-needed skills and leadership ability would be quite an asset to the Legion. I will even pay you an enlistment bonus of $450,000.”
“You must be out of your computer-chip mind,” said G.E. “The Legion wants me dead.”
“$600,000 is my final offer, but only if you distinguish yourself after you complete basic training,” said the ATM. “Did I mention that I called the police and they will be here to arrest you in about three minutes?”
“I will get you for this,” threatened G.E., as he looked over his shoulder. Four police officers were approaching him from all directions.
“Read the contract on my screen,” said the ATM. “Then put your claw on the pad.”
G.E. put his claw on the pad as directed. The ATM pricked G.E., taking a blood sample and injecting a security ID chip. His identification card shot out a slot along with written orders to report immediately to Master Sergeant Green at Legion Headquarters in Finisterra. By now the police officers were upon him.
“Show me your ID card,” demanded the first police officer. Another police officer drew his weapon. “Do it now, spider!”
“Is there a problem, officer?” asked G.E., slowly handing the officer his new ID. “Did I do something wrong?”
The police officer read out loud from the ID card, “Private John Iwo Jima Wayne, United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion.” He handed the ID card back. “No, sir, there is no problem at all. We must have been given a bogus report. We appreciate the tough job you legionnaires have been doing in the North. Have a nice day.”
* * * * *
When Private Wayne arrived at Legion Headquarters in Finisterra, he was surprised to see one of his former fellow Special Forces soldiers had also joined the Foreign Legion.
“What is your new name?” asked Private Wayne.
“Charles Brown,” replied Private Brown. “I am told I have a famous literary namesake from ancient Earth.”
“They lied to you,” said Private Wayne. “Listen carefully. I heard a rumor that Captain Czerinski can read our minds. He does it with new computer micro chip technology. When he passes by, sing a song to yourself. It might jam his reception.”
“Attention!” yelled Sergeant Green as he walked down the line of recruits with Lieutenant Lopez. They stopped at Privates Brown and Wayne.
“Charlie Brown, you’re a clown!” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Report to the kitchen for KP duty.”
“Me?” asked Private Brown, upset that he had already been singled out.
“Do it now!” ordered Sergeant Green. Private Brown ran to the kitchen building.
Lieutenant Lopez stared at Private Wayne. “Do you two have prior experience?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.
“No, sir,” answered Private Wayne.
“Don’t ever lie to me again!” said Lieutenant Lopez, getting in Private Wayne’s face. “See that armored car parked over by City Hall? Take two recruits and wash it. Do it now!”
“Yes, sir,” said Private Wayne as he left with the two recruits next to him.
“What was that about?” asked Sergeant Green. “Are those two special?”
“Maybe,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Didn’t you notice their boots? Keep a close eye on them.”
Sergeant Green nodded. They continued their inspection of the recruits. “Who here has experience with small engines?” asked Sergeant Green. Several recruits raised their hands or claws. “Great! You recruits just volunteered to mow grass at Legion Headquarters. You better do a good job!”
* * * * *
How ironic, thought Private Wayne, that he was washing the same armored car that had killed so many of his Special Forces soldiers and insurgents. No amount of scrubbing could wash the blood off. Had Lieutenant Lopez planned this slap in the face? “Not possible,” he thought out loud. As they finished, Lieutenant Lopez walked by to inspect the washing.
“Put a wax job on it,” ordered Lieutenant Lopez. “I want my armored car to shine.”
“Military vehicles are not waxed,” said Private Wayne. “You are wasting our time.”
“Just do it!” demanded Lieutenant Lopez, walking away.
“You should be mindful of crossing Lieutenant Lopez,” advised Private Camacho as he tossed a scrub pad into a bucket. “He has a nasty reputation.”
“If you treat a skunk nicely, he will just piss on you less often,” said Private Wayne. “I will only treat him with respect if he treats me with respect.”
“How would a spider like you even know what a skunk is?” asked Private Camacho.
“Do unto others, before they do unto you,” interjected Private Adams, the other car washer. “That’s my motto.”
“Live and let live, and shit rolls down hill,” added Private Camacho. “Privates don’t back-talk to lieutenants, especially combat vets like Lieutenant Lopez.”
“Lieutenant Lopez is psycho,” said Private Wayne.
“All the better reason to not upset him,” said Private Camacho. “I agree he is a couple beans short of a full burrito. So don’t drag us into your pissing contest.”
“Tomorrow this armored car will be covered with mud,” said Private Wayne. “Washing and waxing it is just a way to mess with us recruits.”
“If we aren’t here doing this,” said Private Adams, “we’ll just be somewhere else doing something else. The trick is to milk this into an all day project.”
“That’s right,” said Private Camacho. “It’s a nice sunny day. Just pretend you are at home, kicking back, listening to tunes, soaking in some rays, and waxing your Chevy. Remember, we could be sweating and working in the kitchen like your buddy.”
“He is not my buddy.”
“What’s the deal with you two?” asked Private Adams. “Lopez asked if you had prior experience. Then he accused you of lying when you said no. What gives? Spill it.”
“He was just messing with us because we are spiders,” explained Private Wayne. “That is all there is to it.”
* * * * *
The Legion was tasked with escorting oil rigs, supply trucks, and mining equipment traveling north between Finisterra and the Arctic Circle. Bandits and insurgents were becoming more active along the North Highway.
Lieutenant Lopez and Sergeant Green took about a dozen legionnaires north in the armored car. Lieutenant Lopez doubted there would be any trouble, but the long trip would give him time to train and evaluate the new recruits.
Private Wayne rode on top with Private Brown. Mud splattered the bottom half of the armored car as it splashed along. Private Wayne expected he would be told to wash the armored car again tonight. His anger simmered with each muddy splash. It was cold riding on top, but Privates Brown and Wayne could not stand the smell of the human pestilence down below. The fresh air was a pleasant relief.
A drone watched over them from above. Lieutenant Lopez monitored its video images. About a half mile ahead a tree lay across the road. Lieutenant Lopez ordered the legionnaires to get ready and to be alert. The armored car sped ahead of the column to check for possible ambush. As they approached the fallen tree, the armored car struck a mine.
Private Washington lost steering and crashed the armored car into the ditch. Sergeant Green fired the machine gun into the woods to cover the legionnaires as they poured out the back of the armored car. Several were suffering from shock and the concussive effects of the blast. Privates Brown and Wayne jumped off separate sides of the armored car and took cover in the trees.
An insurgent sniper killed the first legionnaire out of the armored car. Private Adams never knew what hit him. Private Wayne quickly located the sniper up in a tree and killed him with a burst from his assault rifle. The spider swung back and forth from a rope attached to his leg. Private Wayne watched for movement, then saw a second sniper. Reflection from the glass of the insurgent’s rifle scope gave him away. Private Wayne shot him, too. A third sniper fired at the armored car. Lieutenant Lopez, using sniper directional locating scanners, blew the sniper out of a tree with the cannon. The tree fell, too. Two remaining spider insurgents retreated.
Spot quickly picked up their scent, leading Corporal Tonelli and Private Wayne on a chase. The dragon killed one of the insurgents about two miles into the forest as the spider jogged along a game trail. The remaining insurgent got away. He hid his scent by walking in the water of a shallow stream.
“You have killed before,” Tonelli said to Wayne as they walked back to the column. “Were you in the Arthropodan army?”
“No offense, but my enlistment contract guarantees that I do not have to talk about my past,” replied Private Wayne. “It’s part of an all encompassing amnesty that all legionnaires get.”
“Or maybe you were an insurgent?” prodded Tonelli. “That enlistment contract is only good if you were completely truthful in your disclosure. If you want to survive out here, we have to be able to trust each other.”
“Trust that I know my business when it comes to killing,” said Private Wayne. “Trust that will have to be good enough.”
“It’s good enough for me,” advised Tonelli. “But good luck with Lieutenant Lopez and Sergeant Green. If you try that enlistment contract crap on them out here, you won’t be coming back. They’ll gut you if they think you are not loyal.”
“I am loyal,” said Private Wayne, realizing for the first time that he felt good about joining the Legion. He liked having structure back in his life. He thrived on the rush of surviving combat, and the camaraderie of his fellows, even if they were just human pestilence. They walked back to the column in silence. The armored car was already hooked up to a truck to be towed the rest of the way. Its front axle was broken.
Lieutenant Lopez looked closely at Private Wayne as Corporal Tonelli reported the killing of the insurgent by Spot. Wayne said nothing.
“Did you dye your exoskeleton?” asked Sergeant Green.
“It is stained, not dyed,” said Private Wayne. “There is a difference.”
“Whatever,” said Sergeant Green. “Don’t be a smart ass. What was the original color?”
“I think it was reddish brown,” replied Private Wayne, admiring his new shiny black. “It’s been so long, I can’t remember for sure, nor do I care.”
“Have you ever used green dye?” asked Private Washington, also staring at Private Wayne.
“No,” answered Private Wayne. “I don’t like Greens. They are a bunch of money grubbers.”
“Screw you,” said Private Washington.
“That was some good shooting,” commented Sergeant Green. “You must have good eyesight to pick out those snipers like you did. I want you to stay close to me.”
“I prefer not to,” said Private Wayne, as he hitched a ride on one of the trucks. “It is not healthy to hang around officers or sergeants. They make such good targets for snipers.”
“Smart-ass spider,” said Sergeant Green. “I’ll be watching you.”
“One more thing, Wayne,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I’m promoting you to corporal. That will teach you to run your mouth. You make sure we don’t lose any more legionnaires, or it will be your ass.”
* * * * *
Lieutenant Lopez watched the video monitor. Eight humans and two spiders loitered around a truck parked along the North Highway. One of the humans was talking on a radio. The human directed most of his men to hide in the forest. Then he lifted the hood of his truck up and pretended to be checking the engine.
“What do you make of that?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “Bandits?”
“It looks like it,” said Sergeant Green. “A lookout must have just reported our approach. These bandits lie in ambush and wait for good Samaritans like us to help them.”
“It warms my heart to see that spider/human racial harmony has progressed to the point that the two species can work together so closely to rob convoys,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
As the drone continued its surveillance, Lieutenant Lopez contacted the T. Roosevelt and ordered an air strike. The T. Roosevelt patched into their video network. Corporals Tonelli and Wayne slipped into the woods with the dragon to locate the lookout. Spot immediately picked up the scent. The column continued towards the ambush.
The bandit leader glanced up from under the hood, expecting to see the convoy any second. He could hear an annoying humming of the drone up above, but dismissed the sound as just ringing in his ears. Forest on both sides of the truck exploded in flames. The bandit leader dove for the ditch as a bomb hit the truck. The T. Roosevelt Weapons Platform once again did its work to perfection. The convoy quickly came into view and legionnaires easily captured the bandit leader. Two more bandits were dragged from the woods. The rest were dead. All three were bound with their hands behind their backs. Tonelli and Wayne arrived a few minutes later. Spot was still chewing on a femur bone from the lookout.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself before execution?” asked Lieutenant Lopez, confronting the bandit leader.
“I have Constitutional rights,” replied the bandit leader. “You can’t do this. I demand a fair trial.”
“We operate under Colonial Law,” advised Lieutenant Lopez. “You will be executed for being an undesirable on New Colorado. Do you have anything more to say?”
“My truck held an oil rig worker we hoped to ransom,” said the bandit leader. “You killed him. His blood is on your hands.”
Lieutenant Lopez shot the bandit leader in the head. “I’ll get over it,” he replied. A second bandit broke free and ran for the trees. Lieutenant Lopez shot him, too. Then he turned his attention to the last bandit.
“Please don’t kill me,” pleaded the bandit. “I’m only fifteen years old.”
“Not good enough,” said Lieutenant Lopez, as he aimed his pistol. “I don’t care about your age. You’re a cancer that needs to be cut out.”
“Let me join the Legion,” pleaded the bandit. “You allow all sorts into the Legion. How many of you have questionable pasts? Let me join, too.”
“We do not allow scum like you to enlist,” said Corporal Wayne, knife drawn as he stepped forward. “I will slit his throat quickly. He will feel minimal pain.”
“What are you doing?” asked Tonelli. “Leave the kid alone! It’s not necessary to execute him”
“The feel of my knife cutting through the soft skin of human pestilence pleases me,” admitted Corporal Wayne as he grabbed the bandit by the hair. “Hold still and die honorably.”
“Please!” screamed the bandit, turning back to Lieutenant Lopez. “My brother was in the Legion! He was even in First Division. Let me enlist!”
“Don’t lie to me, or you will die slowly,” said Lieutenant Lopez “What was your brother’s name?”
“Sergeant Hans Krueger,” replied the young bandit. “Did you know him?”
Lieutenant Lopez holstered his pistol. He stared at the bandit, their faces inches apart. “I see the resemblance,” he said. “Except Sergeant Krueger was a killer. You, however, are worthless to the Legion.”
“I can learn,” said young Krueger. “I have always wanted to join the Legion. I won’t let you down.”
“We are one recruit down,” advised Sergeant Green. “Let him enlist. He’ll probably get himself killed anyway, but who knows? He might work out.”
“Release him,” ordered Lieutenant Lopez. “Give him Private Adams’ equipment, web gear, flack jacket, and extra uniform.”
“You got lucky,” said Corporal Wayne, releasing Krueger with a shove. “But your luck won’t last forever. I’ll be watching you.”
“Corporal Wayne,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Private Krueger is your responsibility. Teach Krueger what he needs to know to survive.”
“Yes!” exclaimed Private Krueger. In his excitement, he stumbled and stepped on Spot’s tail. The dragon lunged. The Legion almost lost its newest recruit, but Tonelli pulled the dragon back just inches from Private Krueger’s face.
“Watch where you step, you dumb-ass newbie,” yelled Tonelli. “You won’t last a week.”
“Keep that dragon away from Krueger,” ordered Lieutenant Lopez. “I don’t want that dragon anywhere near Krueger. Understand?”
“Whatever,” said Tonelli. “It won’t save him. The kid can’t walk and chew gum at the same time.”
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
Camp Alaska was the crossroads for deployment of oil drilling equipment and mining equipment for the entire Arctic region. Its streets were muddy when not frozen. Houses were prefabricated and temporary. No one noticed another column of oil rigs escorted by legionnaires when they arrived in town.
Lieutenant Lopez ordered the armored car dropped off in front of a truck repair shop. “I am giving everyone two days off,” he said. “Sergeant Green and I will be staying with the armored car. All of you are expected to report in at 0900 and 1700 every day. Report late, and I will hunt you down and put you on guard duty for the duration of our stay in Camp Alaska. Stay in groups of at least four so you don’t get mugged. Dismissed!”
Wayne, Tonelli, Camacho, and Krueger easily found the North Slope Tavern. Oil rig workers and miners packed the bar. Workers gave Spot a wide berth as Tonelli led the dragon inside.
“Give me whiskey,” said Private Krueger, slapping money on the bar. “Leave the bottle!”
“Son, you are too young to drink here,” advised the bartender. “You have to go.”
“I’m in the Legion,” replied Private Krueger. “Can’t you see my uniform? I’m not going anywhere.”
“You are the shortest legionnaire I have ever seen,” said the bartender. “What are you, about twelve years old?”
Private Krueger reached in his pouch and pulled out a grenade, setting it on the counter. “Are you going to serve me, or am I going to have to get angry?”
“You better keep an eye on your boy,” Tonelli said to Wayne. “Did you see that? He has a grenade.”
“So? We all have grenades,” said Corporal Wayne. “Krueger can take care of himself. Now give me some room and don’t bother me with the little stuff.”
“Hear that?” said Private Camacho. “You are cramping Wayne’s style.”
“No one asked for your opinion,” said Tonelli.
“Lighten up,” said Private Camacho, eyeing some female oil rig workers sitting at the next table. “I’m going to go talk to those babes. Be my wingman.”
Tonelli followed Camacho to the ladies’ table. To Tonelli they seemed ugly. Camacho offered to buy a round of drinks and asked if he could join them.
One of the female oil rig workers, who was very drunk, sized up the two legionnaires and then turned her attention to Spot. “What a darling lizard,” she gushed, reaching out to pet the dragon on the snout.
With lightning speed Spot snapped off two of her fingers. The oil rig worker pulled back, screaming, with blood squirting everywhere. One of the ladies drew a pistol, intending to shoot the dragon. Camacho wrestled the pistol from her, knocking the table over. Another lady pulled out a switchblade knife. By now the commotion had attracted the attention of other oil rig workers. They came to the aid of their ladies. Krueger stood in the middle of the confrontation, waving his grenade and warning everyone to stand back.
“That grenade ain’t real,” said one of the oil rig workers. “Rush him!”
Private Krueger pressed the timer button on the grenade and tossed it at the feet of the oil rig workers. Everyone dove for cover. Shrapnel from the explosion injured about six oil rig workers. The legionnaires ran out the front door during the chaos. They kept running until they reached the other side of town, where they found another tavern.
Corporal Wayne read the signs in front of the tavern. The place was called the Arthropoda Tavern. Another sign read ‘English Spoken Here.’ “This looks like a good place,” commented Corporal Wayne. “There will be no more fighting and no more grenades. This is a respectable place.”
A large spider bouncer met them at the door. He blocked their entry. “There are no lizards and no human pestilence allowed inside,” the bouncer announced.
“See?” said Corporal Wayne. “I told you it was a respectable place.”
“We are the Legion,” slurred Private Krueger. “We will go anywhere we please.”
“Do you see that little human pestilence?” asked Corporal Wayne, pointing at Private Krueger. “He is crazy. You don’t want to upset him. He just blew up the North Slope Tavern because someone said a lot less to him than what you just said. Call the North Slope if you don’t believe me.”
The bouncer made some phone calls. The manager soon arrived and greeted them. “Of course we are pleased to have the Legion as our guests,” he said. “It’s just that spider drinks are much too strong for human consumption. You might be accidentally poisoned, and we want to avoid that kind of scandal. I certainly meant no slight toward the Legion.”
“Too strong for humans?” asked Private Krueger, brushing past the manager and seating himself on a bar stool. “I’ll take that risk. I heard you bugs like vodka. Bring it on!”
“This might not be such a good idea,” advised Private Camacho, as he followed Private Krueger. Looking about, he saw nothing but spider patrons. “This don’t look safe.”
“Got any music?” asked Tonelli, ignoring the stares. “This place is dead.”
“I like it here,” said Corporal Wayne, eyeing a gaggle of alluring spider females sitting in the corner.
“You better check Krueger for more grenades,” suggested Tonelli. “This is the last tavern we can get kicked out of. There’s no more for a thousand miles.”
“Krueger will pass out soon,” replied Corporal Wayne, as he approached the females. “The shrimp can’t hold his liquor. You baby-sit Krueger. I am going to be busy.”
* * * * *
Lieutenant Lopez arrived at the North Slope Tavern to investigate a wild report that Legionnaires had bombed the place. Impossible! The tavern is still here, he thought. Corporal Ceausescu came along to render first aid if needed. Privates Brown, Scoggins, and Washington came along because they were required to follow Corporal Ceausescu. All were upset because they were beginning to sober up, an unacceptable condition for young legionnaires on a two-day pass.
“It is about time you got here,” complained the bartender. “I should have called the sheriff.”
“You calling the sheriff’s office isn’t going to do any good, because we don’t have a sheriff yet,” explained Lieutenant Lopez. “Are you sure it was legionnaires who damaged your place?”
“Of course I’m sure!” replied the bartender. ‘They wore Legion uniforms. How hard can it be to find that motley looking group? Do you realize how much business I lost tonight?”
“I have a better question,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Do you realize how much business you will lose if I drop a two thousand block of cement from space on to the roof of your tavern?”
“Lots,” answered the bartender, meekly.
“Good. Get over whatever happened here tonight or else,” ordered Lieutenant Lopez. “I’m sure my legionnaires did not intentionally bomb your tavern. If you ever make that accusation again, you will find out the hard way what it is really like to have the Legion bomb your tavern. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said the bartender.
* * * * *
Lieutenant Lopez stayed at the North Slope, accepting free drinks for the rest of the night. Corporal Ceausescu led her charges across town in search of another tavern. She didn’t like hanging out with Lopez. They found the Arthropoda Tavern. A spider bouncer met them at the door, shrugged, and let the legionnaires enter. By now the band was playing weird spider music. Corporal Ceausescu looked about, sizing up the crowd. The place was busy and full of spiders.
Private Camacho was at the bar. He pointed up, then waved for her to come over. She saw Private Krueger wrapped in a web cocoon for drunkenness, hanging upside down from the ceiling. Krueger vomited between screams, demanding to be let down. Corporal Wayne was in a corner booth, kissing on four female spiders. Gross! Corporal Tonelli was on stage playing a saxophone type instrument with the band. His dragon, who also had been drinking vodka, lay under the bar counter. He appeared to be dead. Corporal Ceausescu poked Spot with a pool stick. No response. Then she sat on a stool next to Private Camacho.
“What’s with Krueger?” asked Corporal Ceausescu, watching him sway back and forth. “Did he really set off a grenade at the North Slope?”
“Krueger can’t handle his liquor,” replied Private Camacho, as he placed his hand on Ceausescu’s knee. “He gets stupid.”
Corporal Ceausescu removed Private Camacho’s hand from her leg and ordered beer mixed with vodka. Private Camacho put his hand back on her leg, caressing its full length. Corporal Ceausescu gulped her drink, then reached for her combat knife. She looked Private Camacho in the eyes. “Oh what the hell,” she said, embracing and kissing him passionately. Spiders near them cheered and raised their drinks in a toast.
“Why don’t you two get a room?” suggested the bartender, slightly annoyed at such brazen human pestilence behavior.
“You have rooms here?” asked Private Camacho.
“No,” replied the bartender. “Most lovers just go up to the roof. It’s upstairs.”
Ceausescu and Camacho left together. Female spiders approached Privates Washington, Brown, and Scoggins. Washington displayed his wedding rings and was left alone after mild protests. The females loved Private Brown’s Legion uniform. Spiders in the Legion was a novel concept for them, and they liked it. Private Brown fell into their arms and was carried away. Soon Private Scoggins wandered off with a couple female spiders too. He was never seen or heard from again.
* * * * *
All leave at Camp Alaska was canceled because of drunk and disorderly complaints. The armored car was repaired, and Lieutenant Lopez was busy checking out its computer systems. Sergeant Green and Corporal Wayne arrived as ordered to assist.
“I am pleased with your progress, Corporal Wayne,” commented Lieutenant Lopez. “You’re a born leader and obviously well trained in your past life.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Corporal Wayne. “I love the Legion life.”
“I want you to learn how to run the computer systems for the command car,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “You will fly the drone and call in air strikes in case something happens to me or Sergeant Green.”
Corporal Wayne leaned over the computer screen. A green glow filled the small space inside the armored car. Lieutenant Lopez and Sergeant Green stared at Corporal Wayne in disbelief. His face awash in green light, they both recognized General Electric. Lieutenant Lopez drew his pistol. Sergeant Green aimed his assault rifle.
“What is this?” asked Corporal Wayne. “What did I do?”
“You are an insurgent,” accused Lieutenant Lopez, cocking his pistol. “Admit it!”
“I will not,” protested Corporal Wayne. “I was a Special Forces marine sent to assist the insurgency. But that is over now. I am a loyal legionnaire.”
“You deny you are General Electric?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “I dare you to deny who you are.”
“I used to be General Electric,” admitted Corporal Wayne. “But now I am a corporal in the Legion. I have a valid enlistment contract.”
“Screw your contract!” yelled Lieutenant Lopez, grabbing Corporal Wayne by the collar and shoving him against a bulkhead. “You are an insurgent! You cannot ever be in the Legion!”
“For that small technicality you would force me out of the Legion?” asked Corporal Wayne. “But you had no problem letting Krueger in?”
“I will kill you,” said Lieutenant Lopez.
“Kick me out. Kill me. It is all the same,” said Corporal Wayne. “If I cannot be in the Legion, I want to die anyway.”
“Maybe we should let Captain Czerinski make the call on this one,” suggested Sergeant Green. “Catching General Electric is a big deal. He should be interrogated.”
“Captain Czerinski would shoot G.E. on the spot without discussion,” said Lieutenant Lopez, holstering his pistol. “I’ll let you stay in the Legion, for now. Go back to the barracks. Remember, we will be watching you.”
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<next chapter>> <<end>>
Today I met the new recruits. Lieutenant Lopez advised that several spiders had already distinguished themselves. One spider was even promoted to corporal. As I inspected the troops, I attempted to use the mind reading chip as I passed the spiders. I didn’t bother with Private Washington because his many psycho thoughts depressed me and gave me headaches. As I read their minds, the spider recruits were all singing inside their heads. If I didn’t know better, I would swear they were conspiring to block my mind reading technology. But that would mean the spiders knew about my chip.
I stopped in front of Corporal Wayne. He was larger than the other spider recruits. “Lieutenant Lopez and Sergeant Green say good things about you,” I said. “Keep up the good work.”
“Thank you,” said Corporal Wayne.
His thoughts were singing too. I could hear, My country tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing!
“Stop it,” I ordered. “Concentrate on me, not music.”
“Yes, sir,” said Corporal Wayne. Screw you human pestilence, he thought to himself.
“That will be enough of that,” I said. “Clean up your mind.”
“Sir?” said Corporal Wayne. You can sit on my claw and spin, he thought. Then he began singing in his thoughts again.
“Stop singing,” I said. “Do it now!”
Corporal Wayne reached out and snatched my sunglasses. I could no longer understand his thoughts because the translation device was in the sunglasses. All I could hear was hisses and whistles. I tried to grab the sunglasses back, but Corporal Wayne ate them.
“Are you crazy?” yelled Sergeant Green, getting in Corporal Wayne’s face. “Why did you eat the captain’s sunglasses?”
“Sun stroke,” answered Corporal Wayne. “If we spiders stand in the sun too long, our exoskeleton heats up, and we get irrational. Sorry.”
“And hungry too?” yelled Sergeant Green.
“Have we met?” I asked, looking closer at the big black spider. My temper was just barely in check.
“Not likely,” answered Corporal Wayne.
“You will pay for those sunglasses,” I said.
“I have no money on my card,” said Corporal Wayne.
“It’s a cultural thing,” explained Lieutenant Lopez. “Corporal Wayne is one of my better recruits. But being a spider, his behavior is sometimes odd. They are volatile.”
“His behavior is unacceptable,” I said. “If Wayne was an Arthropodan marine, he would not be allowed to assault his commanding officer. It’s not tolerated in the Legion either.”
“We are still adjusting to having more spiders in the Legion,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “But sometimes weird shit like this happens.”
“Private Wayne,” I said, as I tore off his rank. “You will wash and wax the armored car all day today. I hear you are already an expert at it. That’s good. You might make a career out of it.”
“Yes, sir,” said Private Wayne.
“Sergeant Green!” I said. “You and a guard detail will stay with Private Wayne until I get back what is left of my sunglasses.”
“Sir?” asked Sergeant Green.
“I want my sunglasses back!” I repeated.
Later Guido told me he could not replace the translation device in my sunglasses. Guido informed me his contact in New Memphis had gone out of business and moved. That was okay. I never liked hearing alien voices no one else could hear, anyway. It struck me as being the first step toward insanity. I had the chip surgically removed. I got my sunglasses and translator parts back a day later. The translator was ruined. It got wet.
* * * * *
Lieutenant Lopez, Sergeant Green, and I were in the barracks relaxing and watching satellite TV. Channel Five World News Tonight reporters Brad Jacobs on Mars and Phil Coen were discussing heightened tensions between the United States Galactic Federation and the Arthropodan Empire. Democracy had failed again on Arthropoda, and the spiders were back to their old autocratic ways. The Emperor was upset about all the riches he missed out on when the Empire lost its half of New Colorado.
“Phil, is it not old news that the Emperor wants a share of the riches on New Colorado?” asked Jacobs. “So why are tensions elevated now?”
“Brad, the Emperor actually denies that it is all about oil, gold, and uranium,” explained Coen. “The Emperor says he is only upset because Arthropodan soldiers were not repatriated in accordance with the peace treaty. He says many captured soldiers died in custody at the hands of the Legion, and cites the New Disneyland Massacre as a prime example of United States Galactic Federation atrocities. The Emperor says many other soldiers are still fighting because they are rightfully afraid to surrender.”
“Phil, are we really to believe the Emperor’s rhetoric that many Arthropodan soldiers are now fighting with the insurgency because they are afraid to surrender?” asked Jacobs.
“Brad, the Emperor, in a speech before the Arthropodan General Assembly, made just that case when he revealed that Most Wanted insurgent leader General Electric was in fact an officer in the Arthropodan Marine Corps. He said computer facial identification analysis of photographs of General Electric matched their officer reported missing in action along with his whole company of marines.”
“Phil, does anyone expect us to believe this rubbish?” asked Jacobs. “It was everyone’s understanding that both sides had accounted for all missing soldiers at the time of the last prisoner swap. How can it be that now there is a whole company of spiders missing?”
“Brad, the Emperor is demanding an explanation, too,” said Coen. “He wants inspectors to search our detention centers for missing soldiers, and he wants forensic experts to exhume several mass grave sites to gather DNA data.”
“Phil, what is the Foreign Legion’s position on these accusations?”
“Brad, I spoke to General Kalipetsis, and he thinks Arthropodan Special Forces have been landing on New Colorado to join, organize, and arm the insurgency,” answered Coen. “General Kalipetsis calls the Emperor a lying sack of shit.”
“He doesn’t hold back, does he?”
“No, Brad.”
“Phil, wouldn’t that be an act of war?” asked Jacobs. “Does General Kalipetsis have any proof of Arthropodan adventurism and support for the terrorists?”
“Brad, General Kalipetsis says he has circumstantial evidence, but the specifics are classified top secret for now. My sources say the Legion recently destroyed an Arthropodan Special Forces supply ship in orbit around New Colorado after the spider ship attacked the starship T. Roosevelt. Also, Legion warships may have damaged an Arthropodan Special Forces troop shuttle that may have crashed somewhere near Finisterra.”
“Phil, there have been other rumors of the Arthropodan Fleet violating United States Galactic Federation space,” said Jacobs. “What have you heard?”
“Brad, my sources say an Arthropodan fleet may be massing just inside spider space,” said Coen. “It is reported that the Emperor is contemplating sending the Fleet on a peaceful mission to protect Arthropodan citizens and soldiers still on New Colorado.”
“Phil, would our defense forces consider the invasion of our space at New Colorado a peaceful act or a provocation?”
“Brad, the Legion would respond accordingly to another spider invasion,” said Coen. “In fact, I’m hearing that re-enforcements are being sent from the Coleopteran Frontier.”
I got up and turned the channel to a movie. “The Emperor wants a war, and he is just looking for an excuse,” I commented. “I just hope they don’t throw nukes all over the planet again.”
“It’s all a bluff,” reassured Lieutenant Lopez. “If the Emperor wanted war, he would just attack while we were sleeping. All this talk and threats is just positioning for further negotiations to split the planet again.”
“I hope you are right about it just being a bluff,” said Sergeant Green. “We don’t need a war interfering with business, just when things are getting so profitable.”
“Speaking of money,” I said. “How much is the dead or alive reward for General Electric?”
“About twenty million dollars,” said Sergeant Green. “I was just thinking about that, too.”
“The problem with finding General Electric is, we probably killed him in an air strike, and he is buried under tons of concrete,” I said. “That is why we have not heard from him since we killed that fool Emperor of the North.”
“The marked bills from the Singh ransom are still turning up,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Mostly in New Memphis.”
“I’ll bet General Electric is hiding right under our noses,” said Sergeant Green, winking at Lopez. “He probably got himself a job on an oil rig.”
“Shut up,” said Lieutenant Lopez.
“What we should do,” I suggested, “is shoot Private Wayne, paint him green, and pass him off as General Electric for the reward money. Haven’t you noticed Wayne looks just like General Electric, except he is the wrong color?”
There was about five minutes of silence. Finally, I got up and walked out to see if the armored car was washed yet.
* * * * *
The Special Forces sergeant had led the sniper team attack on the supply column. But legionnaires had reacted quickly, killing all four insurgents he commanded. The sergeant was lucky to have escaped the track of the Legion’s monitor dragon by walking up a stream to hide his scent. Lucky. That would be his new name.
After the sniper attack, Lucky hiked back to his base camp. He stayed there a month, contemplating the future. The camp was empty, so he stayed until the food ran out. Then Lucky counted his cut of the Singh ransom: sixty thousand dollars. After packing the money into his backpack, Lucky began his hike into town. There was a bounce to his step. Lucky had fought the good fight, but New Colorado was just too big for one old sergeant to take on all by himself. It was time to live a different life.
When Lucky got to the roadway, he sat down for a rest. He dozed off, but was abruptly awaken by the sound of a large engine. It was a Legion armored car, and a dozen legionnaires had exited the vehicle, pointing their rifles at him. I guess I am not so lucky after all, he thought.
“What are you doing here?” asked Sergeant Green. “Tell the truth if you want to live.”
“I am an Arthropodan Special Forces marine sent to New Colorado to advise the insurgency,” said Lucky.
“Where are the others?” asked Sergeant Green.
“Dead, I guess. You killed them all. Everyone I know is dead.”
“Why are you on this roadway?” asked Sergeant Green.
“I was hiking into town to start a new life,” said Lucky.
“You had a chance to do that a long time ago,” said Sergeant Green. “It’s too late now.”
“Yes,” said Lucky. “I know that.”
“Prove you’re not just another insurgent scum,” said Sergeant Green. “Why should I believe your tall tale about being Special Forces?”
“I can lead you to my supply shuttle,” said Lucky. “It tipped over in a pond west of Finisterra.”
Information about an Arthropodan marine Special Forces shuttle interested Sergeant Green, so he radioed in that they had a prisoner with information. Lucky was put into the back of the armored car for the ride back to Camp Alaska. Tonelli, sitting next to Lucky, searched the spider’s backpack.
“Hey look everyone,” said Tonelli, waving the money he found. “This guy is rich.”
“Where did you get all that money?” asked Corporal Williams. “Are you a bank robber?”
It’s more likely you were one of the insurgents that ransomed Singh,” said Sergeant Green. “I’ll bet those bills are marked. Is that where you got this money?”
Lucky hissed. Looking at the legionnaires, he noticed two spiders. The driver was a Green. But the big black spider was his old marine commander also known as General Electric. How funny. G.E. was not saying much. I don’t blame him, thought Lucky. Maybe G.E. thought I would not recognize him? I’ll bet his Legion friends don’t know who he is.
“Do you hear me?” said Sergeant Green, poking Lucky with his rifle. “Where did you get this money?”
“I have nothing more to say until I talk to your commanding officer,” said Lucky. “Harm me and you will never find my shuttle. I have other very important information you will be interested in knowing.”
When they arrived at Camp Alaska, Tonelli and Wayne escorted Lucky to a holding cell. Private Wayne lingered behind to talk to Lucky through a small window in the cell door.
“Long time no see, Sergeant,” said Private Wayne. “I appreciate you not saying anything about me earlier. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I see you are sleeping with the human pestilence,” said Lucky. “How does it feel to be a traitor? Get me out of here or I will tell your new friends who you really are. Maybe I will even be able to collect the reward on you.”
“You would betray me?” asked Private Wayne. “Have you no sense of personal loyalty?”
“You join the Legion, and you lecture me about loyalty?” asked Lucky. “I will give you until tonight to get me out of here, or I will tell the Legion everything.”
“I will see what I can do,” promised Wayne. “But you have to give me a few days to arrange things.”
“Tonight!” demanded Lucky. “I want out tonight.”
* * * * *
Later Lieutenant Lopez and Sergeant Green interviewed Lucky. Lucky drew a map and gave detailed instructions on how to find the Special Forces shuttle. Lucky also gave lists of insurgent safe houses in Finisterra and Camp Alaska. At the conclusion of the interview, Lieutenant Lopez told Lucky to think long and hard about whether there was anything he wanted to add.
“I don’t like surprises,” warned Lieutenant Lopez. “You have more to tell me. Spill it now.”
“Your Private Wayne is the famous insurgent leader General Electric,” said Lucky. “I want to collect on the reward money for turning him in.”
“Are you sure?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “There can be no mistake in your identification?”
“Of course I am sure,” said Lucky. “He also used to be my marine Special Forces commanding officer. We landed on New Colorado together.”
“I see,” said Lieutenant Lopez.
“How much is the reward up to now?” asked Lucky.
“What difference does that mean to you?” asked Sergeant Green. “How are you going to spend the reward money if you are tried and shot for being a terrorist?”
“I am a soldier sent to New Colorado by the Emperor,” argued Lucky. “I have been cooperative. There is no reason for you to cross me. I will gladly share the reward with you. It must be millions. There is enough for everyone to be happy.”
“First, we will see if you are telling the truth about the Special Forces shuttle,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Then your full statement about Arthropodan marines and aiding the insurgency will be broadcast on TV for propaganda. If everything you say turns out to be true, and if you have not held back any important information or details, you will get the reward that you truly deserve.”
That night at about 0200, a timed Legion grenade was dropped down an air vent to Lucky’s cell. The grenade rattled down the long vent, finally dropping onto Lucky’s lap. Lucky was killed instantly.
<<begin>> <<previous chapter>> <<end>>
The Arthropodan Fleet beamed unopposed into orbit around New Colorado. Legion starships and planetary defenses did not interfere because they were outnumbered and because no one wanted another war. Ship to planet communications was soon established.
“This is Imperial Fleet Commander #1. We will remain in orbit around New Colorado indefinitely. My mission is to obtain the return of all prisoners of war held illegally by the United States Galactic Federation, and to protect all Arthropodan citizens displaced by the war.”
“This Is General Kalipetsis. We hold no prisoners of war. All POW’s were returned. We only hold insurgents. We are doing our best, however, to screen insurgents as we capture them for any ex-soldiers that my have joined them.”
“Our intelligence sources confirmed just this week that you recovered an Arthropodan marine Special Forces troop shuttle and captured a marine sergeant. Both have been missing since the war,” replied #1.
“What sources?’ asked General Kalipetsis.
“Cable TV,” said #1. “I demand my sergeant be returned now. I also want access to your concentration camps to search for more of our missing troops.”
“You are violating United States territorial sovereignty and risking war by your trespass,” said General Kalipetsis. “I will not just let you go and do as you please on New Colorado.”
“The matter is not negotiable,” said #1. “But I am not unreasonable. I will submit to an escort. But first you will return my sergeant.”
“I am personally looking into the matter,” promised General Kalipetsis. Five minutes later he had the information he needed. “Your sergeant was just captured. He had joined the insurgency and had led attacks and participated in kidnapping. He is currently being held at Camp Alaska.”
“A marine contingent and I will beam down to Camp Alaska immediately and repatriate our sergeant,” said #1. “I expect you will meet me there?”
General Kalipetsis met #1 at the landing zone at Camp Alaska. He did not look happy. General Kalipetsis was flanked by his staff, a platoon of legionnaires, Lieutenant Lopez, Sergeant Green, and myself.
“Where is my sergeant?” asked #1, bypassing formalities and getting to the heart of the matter. “I expected him to be waiting here, too.”
“Regretfully, your sergeant was murdered in his cell last night,” said General Kalipetsis. “I am truly so sorry. The matter is being investigated.”
“Who was the ranking officer in charge of his custody,” asked #1.
“Captain Czerinski,” answered General Kalipetsis.
“You put the Butcher of New Colorado in charge of prisoners of war? Again? Why am I not surprised my sergeant was murdered in his sleep.”
“Sir, I had nothing to do with your sergeant’s death,” I said.
“So, we finally meet,” said #1. “You will again be charged with war crimes. I will not let this matter drop. I demand the Butcher of New Colorado be remanded to my custody and transported to Arthropoda City for trial for murder and the many other murders at the New Disneyland Extermination Camp.”
“Only the President can order a legionnaire to be placed into your custody,” replied General Kalipetsis. “I do not have the authority to make that decision. And frankly, you can go fuck yourself.”
“And why would I do that?” said #1. “Do you have the authority to let me inspect the crime scene and to search your gulags for my missing soldiers?”
“You have already been given permission to search with an escort,” said General Kalipetsis.
#1 scrutinized the Honor Guard. He was outraged to see spiders in Legion uniform. “What is this?” he asked. “You have pressed spiders into service? Or is this the result of new brainwashing technology?”
“Some spiders don’t want to live under an Emperor,” said General Kalipetsis. “They want to be free.”
“Yes. Now that I look closer, I see most of them are traitorous Greens,” said #1. “Someday we will find a final solution to them, even if it is to dump them all on New Colorado.”
As they walked to the detention center, General Kalipetsis repeatedly said that he regretted the sergeant’s death and that there were no more Arthropodan soldiers in custody. #1 seemed to be placated a little, but then a spider stepped out of the ranks.
“I am a Special Forces marine,” said Private Charlie Brown. “I want to go home.”
“And so you will,” said #1, grasping onto Charlie Brown. “What have they done to you?”
“Just take me home,” said Charlie Brown. “I did what I needed to do to survive. But now the nightmare is over. Please, take me home.”
“How many more of my soldiers do you have?” asked #1, turning to General Kalipetsis.
General Kalipetsis turned to me. “Well? I’ll shoot you myself if one more Arthropodan marine steps forward demanding to be released. Are there more?”
“This one showed up with one other,” I said. “They’re probably from the same unit. They wore the same military style boots, and they hang out together.” I motioned for Lieutenant Lopez to summon Private Wayne. Private Wayne stepped forward from the Honor Guard.
“Sir!” said Private Wayne. “Reporting as ordered.”
“You can go home, too,” I said. “You are not wanted here.”
“Sir?” asked Private Wayne. “I have an enlistment contract. I will take the matter to court.”
“What?” asked General Kalipetsis. “Are you an Arthropodan marine Special Forces or not? You will go home now, damn it!”
“I am home, sir,” insisted Private Wayne. “The Legion is my home. I am not going anywhere! Legionnaires cannot be extradited except by order of the President. It’s the law. I heard you say it myself.”
“He has been brainwashed,” said #1. “Is there no end to the atrocities you human pestilence will commit?”
Private Wayne took a threatening step toward #1. “I have not been brainwashed. And you are not taking me anywhere,” said Private Wayne. “You sent me here and left me to die! You wrote me off! And now, after so long, you and your greedy Emperor only want to make an issue of my plight because you want a bargaining chip for New Colorado gold and oil. You care nothing for me!”
“You have been through a very traumatic time,” said #1. “You will think differently once you are away from the corrupting influence of the human pestilence and are back on Arthropoda.”
“You will not take me back to Arthropoda,” said Private John Iwo Jima Wayne.
The Fleet Commander turned to General Kalipetsis. “The Team Leader is still an Arthropodan marine. He will be beamed aboard my ship, by force if necessary.”
General Kalipetsis shrugged, about to give in. I stepped in between the two and poked #1 with my finger. “Private Wayne is a legionnaire in the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion. You want war? Try to take him.”
The Fleet Commander did not take well to being poked and threatened. He gave me a shove. Tonelli’s dragon lunged at #1, biting off one of his feet. Spot swallowed it, boot and all. When the shoving and pushing was over, negotiations broke down.
“I will kill you if it is the last thing I do!” threatened #1 as medics carried him to a medivac shuttle. “This is not over yet! There will be one more chapter, and it will end with your slow, torturous death as I tear you apart limb by limb with my bare claws!”
Imperial Feet Commander #1 left with Charlie Brown and the detail of medics. We kept John Wayne.
That was the last I heard from the Spider Fleet Commander. I should have taken the Fleet Commander’s threats seriously and let Spot finish him off. Enemies are best dealt with while they’re down. But no, confident of my invincibility, I let the Fleet Commander escape. I blew off his threats as the mere rant of a spider going into traumatic shock. It did look that way. I never expected to see him again soon anyway.
* * * * *
Now was time for celebration. I got drunk with my men at the North Slope Tavern. At the end of the night, I staggered off alone, back to my cold dark office. “Can you believe it?” I complained aloud. “Colonel Joey R. Czerinski, hero of the Legion, savior of the world – again – and I can’t get a date at the end of the evening!” No matter. I was tired and needed rest.
As soon as I reached for the light switch, I knew I had made a fatal mistake. I had lowered my guard for just an instant, but that was an instant too long! I could smell the pungent odor of spider in the air. They had been waiting for me all night. Immediately I reached for my sidearm, but quick claws deftly snatched my pistol away. Eight limbs wrapped around me, pinning me to my desktop. Vicious fangs pressed to my neck, drawing a slight trickle of blood. Stifling breath moistened my face. I gagged. Conceding death, I closed my eyes and waited for the end.
“Joey, Joey, Joey! We had a date, and you stood me up! Did you really think I would forget, and not collect my due?”
“Amanda?” I asked, terrified, but relieved. Her fangs still pressed ever tighter against my neck. “I’m so glad to see you!”
“Sure you are! You stood me up!”
“There was a thermal nuclear war. Remember? What could I do?”
“Is that the best excuse you can come up with? Hello! You could have called me!”
“Please don’t kiss so hard. I’m bleeding!”
“I can taste it. Yum yum! Oh, Joey, my darling, I could never stay mad at you for long, my dearest love. But I am not a one-night-stand kind of girl. I have my pristine reputation to keep intact. You will make an honest female out of me yet. Tonight I will not be denied. It is our destiny.”
“Help! Someone help!”
“Joey, darling, fight me to the end if you must. You’re such a hot, wretched little fur ball. Your human pestilence mating rituals are so kinky, I love it!”
“Help!” I yelled again, unsheathing my jagged combat knife. It too was knocked away.
“Naughty boy!” hissed Amanda, even more excited. “You are so handsome in your spiffy new Legion uniform. I’ll try not to rip it. I’m so glad you reenlisted. Now all is as it was before. All is right in the galaxy, my love. The stars are aligned. The galaxy is safe, protected by the Legion and my brave and powerful legionnaire. And, I have you babe!”
###
~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Walter Knight
Walter played football on Tucson High School’s last state championship team (1971). He served three years in the army, and the GI Bill paid for his college education, helping him earn degrees from Fort Steilacoom Community College, Central Washington State College, and the University of Puget Sound School of Law.
Walter lives a very quiet and private life, residing with his family and horses, dogs, cats, and fish atop a hill in rural Washington. Walt enjoys taking road trips to explore ghost towns and casinos.
To contact Walter Knight, please visit www.penumbrapublishing.com
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