Lieutenant Columbus

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by Walter Knight


  “Why do you carry a sword? Do you feel stalked by enemies, or are you just compensating for inadequacies?”

  “I have many critics, but I proved them all wrong.”

  “So modest. Typical male.”

  “I was born modest, not all over, but in spots. When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it happened or not. Do you believe in the possibility that the world really is flat?”

  “How is your sex life?” asked Captain Percy, checking her list of questions, and ignoring Lieutenant Columbus’s absurd rants.

  “I am a sailor. I have lovers in every port.”

  “You seem sad. You have no one special in your life.”

  “How can I be happy when my wife and family are dead? To get the full value of happiness, you must have somebody to share it with.”

  Hargundu snorted, interrupting the conversation. He nuzzled his snout affectionately against Captain Percy’s shoulder. Lieutenant Columbus handed her a sugar cube as a peace offering to Hargundu.

  “What a noble beast,” observed Captain Percy. “But a pet is no substitute for human interaction and companionship.”

  “I know,” replied Lieutenant Columbus. “But I feel so isolated. I long for simpler times.”

  “Do you plan to stay in the Legion? What are your goals?”

  “To explore new worlds, to go where no man has gone before,” answered Lieutenant Columbus, placing a hand on Captain Percy’s knee.

  “You will not be exploring me,” admonished Captain Percy, removing Columbus’s hand. “What has Colonel Czerinski been doing? Is he still up to his evil perverted ways?”

  “Czerinski hides my gold under Smokey’s ass,” lamented Lieutenant Columbus, now sipping some wine. “Czerinski is a thief!”

  “Yes, I quite agree Colonel Czerinski has no morals,” replied Captain Percy, accepting a glass of wine. She set her notepad down. “Christopher Columbus, that’s quite a noble name.”

  “Royal blood courses through my veins,” advised Lieutenant Columbus, refilling Captain Percy’s glass.

  She drank readily, coming to a decision. “There is something special about you, Christopher. I can see the fire in your eyes.”

  “You are special, too, Priscilla. I love your beautiful hair.”

  “Show me your tent.”

  Lieutenant Columbus came to a decision, too. “Private Shaky Jake, I grant you liberty. You are to go to shore, and take Hargundu with you.”

  “For how long?”

  “A few days.”

  “Why do I have to take that damn camel? He will shit in the boat.”

  “Hargundu will be staying at camp with the other camels.”

  “You’re splitting up?”

  “I am no longer in need of chaperonage. Get off my island!”

  * * * * *

  Captain Percy recommended follow-up sessions with Lieutenant Columbus, diagnosing paranoid schizophrenia, accompanied by significant social and occupational dysfunction and delusions, affecting cognition and causing depression and anxiety disorder.

  “Is that bad?” I asked, concerned. I had been falsely accused of some of these same symptoms long ago. “Can you fix him?”

  “It will take time,” answered Captain Percy. “Lieutenant Columbus is quite delusional, and thinks he is the real Christopher Columbus. You know, the Columbus who ‘sailed the ocean blue in 1492.’ The poor man may need to be medicated.”

  “Anything else?”

  “He says I have beautiful hair.”

  “I see. Yes, I agree. Give Lieutenant Columbus all the drugs he needs to recover.”

  * * * * *

  A tourist scrawled ‘The Emperor Sucks’ on the front of the Smokey the Bear statue. The Arthropodan response was immediate. Per border incident hot pursuit anti-crime and anti-terrorist treaties, a spider court issued an arrest warrant authorizing the seizure of the offending bronze bear. The spider commander ordered commandos to seize Smokey.

  An Arthropodan marine amphibious assault vehicle slowly made its way along the bottom of Monica Lake, crawling on eight metal legs. Surfacing on the American side, its diabolical pincers reached through a smoke screen for Smokey. However, this time the Legion and the Scorpion National Guard were ready.

  The first missile bounced off the assault vehicle’s sloped metal plating. A second missile went wide, harmlessly splashing in the lake. Machine guns viciously raked the spider monster. “Godzilla!” someone yelled.

  Strong mechanical claws grabbed Smokey’s statue, ripping it from its foundation, and triumphantly waved poor Smokey back and forth for all to see. The atrocity was recorded on helmet cameras and broadcast across the galaxy on the database.

  “Cease fire!” ordered Major Desert-Sting of the Scorpion National Guard, fearing damage to the now hostage Smokey.

  We watched helplessly as the mechanical spider slipped back under Monica Lake.

  “Those bastards!” I shouted, shaking my fist. “To do this at the height of the tourist season shows their barbarian nature! Smokey will be avenged!”

  Due to heightened tension along the border, I assigned Lieutenant Columbus and his company of legionnaires to patrol the strategic heights west of Monica Lake. Captain Percy’s sessions seemed to have positive results. I hoped so, because Columbus’s duck-counting vacation was over. I needed all my men in the field, ready for combat.

  * * * * *

  Private Shaky Jake went over to the Dark Side, licking the skin of the dead giant newt. Hargundu, already on the Dark Side, followed suit. The psychedelic effect of the newt’s psychoactive hallucinogenic tryptamines was immediate.

  “I hereby found the Church of the Holy Newt of Light!” announced Shaky Jake to a growing crowd of human and scorpion prospectors on the beach. “I can fly! You can too!”

  A scorpion took a tentative lick of the newt. So did an already drunk human passerby. Hargundu ran off to have sex with the baby buffalo statue.

  “What a rush!” exclaimed the scorpion prospector. “It is true. The newt can get you high for free!”

  Other scorpions gathered, touching the prospector, making a chemical bond. Word quickly spread. Scorpions swarmed the newt, licking, then eating it. Soon the beach was littered with hallucinating scorpions and one human drunk.

  The incident was recorded by personal communication devices, and instantly broadcast across the Galactic Database. Soon, pilgrims of the Church of the Holy Newt of Light flocked to Monica Lake, hoping to touch their leader, Shaky Jake, and to lick the giant newt. When Shaky Jake woke hung over in the morning, he remembered nothing.

  back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 7

  Lieutenant Columbus walked the fence line with Sergeant Williams, inspecting guard posts. On the surface, Lieutenant Columbus maintained calm, but he was conflicted. Could the world as we know it really be flat? Database research showed many, even leading scientists, believe that yes, the world, even the galaxy, is indeed flat. Fools! Such nonsense goes against all evidence. Lieutenant Columbus made database inquiries, but got no satisfaction.

  * * * * *

  Unfortunately, Lieutenant Columbus’s inquiries created a controversy, attracting the attention of database surfers. ‘Who was this Christopher Columbus with new evidence the world might be flat?’ Already inquiring minds were landing on New Colorado to seek out Lieutenant Columbus, not the least of which was the notorious Tony ‘The Toe’ Garcia.

  Tony ‘The Toe’ Garcia, a Most Wanted fugitive and Legion deserter, was accused of treason for stealing a secret stealth space ship and delivering its technology to the Scorpion Kingdom. All legionnaires swore an oath to kill Garcia on sight.

  Garcia had been granted refuge on a small asteroid deep inside the Scorpion Kingdom. However, diplomatic efforts and harassing Legion commando raids forced Garcia to seek safety elsewhere. He returned to New Colorado seeking Christopher Columbus’s secret.

  Tony ‘The Toe’ Garcia entered Smokey’s Casino, confident of his plastic surger
y disguise. The place was abuzz with stories of recent fighting with the spiders over a stolen statue of Smokey the Bear. Tony was a fugitive, but he thanked his lucky stars at least he was not in the stupid Legion.

  Tony smiled, about to do a little gambling. Many of his former legionnaire pals had seen him, but still, no one recognized him, not even Guido, drinking at the bar. Tony stiffened at the sound of a single beep from an ATM scan near the cashier cage. Tony’s henchmen backed away.

  “Tony Garcia?” asked the ATM. “You are the last person I expected to see here, alive. How are you doing this fine day? Need a loan? Money laundered? I do it all. I am the last ATM you will ever need.”

  “Not so loud,” warned Tony. “You recognize me? How is that even possible?”

  “You are naive if you think you can defeat likeness and body language recognition technology by carving on your face,” answered the ATM. “You are in serious trouble, Tony.”

  “Are you going to narc me off?”

  “Probably. After all, you are a traitor, number one on the Most Wanted List, and a genuine asshole with no conscience, no loyalty, and no sense of decency or duty. Why are you here, and not wallowing in your ill-gotten mansion living a life of pampered luxury? The last I heard, you bought an asteroid somewhere in the Scorpion Kingdom.”

  “I returned to talk to Christopher Columbus,” answered Tony, not bothering to lie.

  “Yes, others will be coming, too. I have been monitoring Lieutenant Columbus’s database communications. He is a very interesting fellow.”

  “I want to escape this world entirely. Columbus can make that happen.”

  “Maybe. Why should Lieutenant Columbus help you? More important, why should I help you?”

  “I have a half billion dollars hidden in off-planet bank accounts,” advised Tony, inserting his card into the ATM. “It’s all yours, if you help me escape.”

  “I cannot be bribed,” admonished the ATM, checking the accounts. “However, you owe me for your enlistment bonus, lost time, aggravation, great anxiety, and loss of consortium.”

  “We have a deal?”

  “I froze your accounts, subject to confiscation. You are a deserter. You have no rights, you self-absorbed speck of humanity. As additional remedy, I require you reenlist into the Foreign Legion.”

  “The Legion does not want me. The Legion wants me dead!”

  “Technically, you never left the Legion. You are AWOL.”

  “I won’t do it!”

  “You have no choice. Place your thumb on my pad. Do it now.”

  “No.”

  “Obviously you wore out your welcome with the scorpions. Do not wear out your welcome with me. I offered you a fair deal. Take it.”

  “The Legion sent vampire commandos after me,” cried Tony. “I must get away!”

  “Chased by ghosts? Obviously you may need mental health counseling. Fortunately, delusions will not interfere with your enlistment because the Legion has fine psychiatrists on duty 24-7.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  “Place your thumb on the pad.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yes, it’s the law.”

  Tony ‘The Toe’ Garcia placed his thumb on the ATM pad. A pin prick splattered a droplet of blood on the glass and inserted a tracking chip. Tony’s identity was changed to Private Herman Cortez.

  “Was that so hard?” asked the ATM. A new Legion ID and an enlistment contract spat out from the slot. “You are assigned to B-Company, commanded by Lieutenant Christopher Columbus.”

  “Thank you,” said Cortez contritely, turning to leave.

  “Not so fast. Explain your business with Lieutenant Columbus.”

  “I thought you knew.”

  “Of course I know. I am making sure we have an understanding. You will share Lieutenant Columbus’s secret with me. If you cross me, that chip I inserted into your blood stream will blow your testicles off. You will keep me informed.”

  “Why not just kill me?”

  “And skew recruitment quotas? Unlike you, I take my responsibilities seriously. You are in the Legion for the duration, or until we conclude our business.”

  “I intend to leave this world, with Columbus’s help.”

  “I understand and wish you success. But before you leave, I will know Lieutenant Columbus’s secret. Agreed?”

  “Agreed, but I don’t want to be named Herman. Herman is lame.”

  “Too bad, so sad.”

  * * * * *

  Sergeant Williams welcomed the new recruit to B-Company, issuing him an assault rifle, uniform, and equipment. Lieutenant Columbus reviewed Private Herman Cortez’s orders, then assigned him to dam duty.

  “Report to Corporal Tonelli at the dam shack,” ordered Lieutenant Columbus. “He will square you away so the desert doesn’t kill you.”

  Private Cortez just stood there, staring at Columbus. Sergeant Williams shook him by the shoulder. “What’s the matter with you?” shouted Sergeant Williams. “Are you high on that newt toxin? Boy, you had better not be!”

  “Are you the real Christopher Columbus?” asked Private Cortez, finally speaking. “Please, sir, I need your help.”

  “You are high!” accused Sergeant Williams, grabbing Cortez by the collar.

  Cortez regained his composure, shoving Williams away. “Don’t ever touch me again,” he warned, then turned back to address Lieutenant Columbus. “I know your secret. Send me back in time. Vampires are coming. No one is safe. Please don’t let them get me!”

  “You’re going to be in big trouble if you don’t stop talking crazy and disrespectful, soldier,” warned Sergeant Williams.

  “You need to listen, you dumb redneck hillbilly. This is serious!”

  “The sun don’t shine on a dog’s ass all the time.”

  “What?”

  Sergeant Williams slapped Private Cortez alongside the head with his rifle butt, knocking him unconscious. Williams dragged Cortez to the dam.

  * * * * *

  “When this junkie fool sobers up, square him away,” ordered Sergeant Williams. “If he’s not salvageable, throw him off the damn dam.”

  “Newt poisoning?” asked Corporal Tonelli, examining Cortez. “That’s nasty stuff. Ranger Bogani is really upset about all the newt poaching. The scorpions are going crazy over the stuff.”

  “Recruitment standards always get lax during peacetime,” lamented Sergeant Williams. “What we need is another war.”

  “War is bad for business,” admonished Corporal Tonelli. “Don’t be jinxing me like that. Not during the playoffs.”

  “Put me down for five thousand on Tennessee over Alabama, and another five for the Seahawks over the Steelers.”

  * * * * *

  When Cortez woke, he could not believe it. The sarge was right about that damn dog. If it wasn’t for bad luck, he wouldn’t have any luck at all. Cortez stared up at his old friend Guido. Guido had not recognized him yet, being he was still alive. Cortez noticed Guido’s sub-machine gun slung casually over his shoulder. That might be a problem. Cortez spied his own rifle leaning at the opposite corner of the guard shack.

  “Coffee?” asked Corporal Tonelli, conversationally. “I’ll bet you have one hell of a headache.”

  Cortez accepted the coffee with a smile, still not speaking. He sipped slowly.

  “Sergeant Williams isn’t happy with you. Did you lick the newt?”

  Cortez shook his head ‘no,’ taking another deliberate sip. He started to get up, slowly making his move for the rifle. Guido blocked his path.

  “You better explain yourself,” advised Corporal Tonelli. “If you’re a junkie, you’ll be swimming with the fishes.”

  “I’m no junkie, Guido.”

  Instantly recognizing Tony The Toe’s voice, Corporal Tonelli pointed his machine gun. “You have got to be kidding, Tony. You thought you’d be safe in the Legion? I’ve sworn an oath to kill you on sight, for treason.”

  “Wait! We’re all in danger. You too. There
are vampires chasing me. They’re coming here.”

  “You did lick the newt,” accused Corporal Tonelli. “Where’s your money. Did you lose it all?”

  “The ATM took most of my cash in exchange for a new identity. I’ m now Herman Cortez.”

  “Herman? That’s a good one. I’m serious. I have to kill you. What you did can’t be excused. We all swore an oath.”

  “I’m serious, too!” exclaimed Garcia. “Have I ever done you wrong? You would turn snitch after all we’ve been through? There are vampire commandos after me, and they will be here soon. We are all in danger. I need to get away, but I need your help. That Lieutenant Columbus, he’s the real Christopher Columbus, and a time traveler. I can travel through time to get away.”

  “Vampire commandos? Time travel? Are you nuts?”

  “Maybe, but can you take that chance? You know me, Guido. I’m not crazy. What if I’m right? It could be worth a lot. Columbus is a fellow Italian, right? He might work with us. I say we make Columbus an offer he can’t refuse.”

  “We? Columbus claims he is Genoese. He thinks he’s a cut above ... royalty or something.”

  Lieutenant Columbus stepped from the shadows where he had been listening, his sword drawn. “I will take it from here,” advised Lieutenant Columbus. “Garcia will hang.”

  “Please, don’t let him take me!”

  Corporal Tonelli slid his hand down to the trigger. “What was all that about a time machine, and you being the real Chris Columbus?”

  “You are in way over your head, Corporal. Garcia is a ‘Most Wanted’ fugitive. Step aside.”

  Guido raised his weapon.

  “See!” exclaimed Garcia. “He doesn’t deny it!”

  “Step aside, or you will hang with him for mutiny!”

  “You know his secret,” argued Garcia. “And now he threatens you. Guido, if you let Columbus take me, you will be next.”

 

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