“When the spiders first came to New Colorado, their Emperor wrote a check his ass could not cash. America is banking on you, the Legion, to make sure that check remains stamped ‘Insufficient Funds.’ We will defend this hallowed DMZ with the same unflinching urgency as the founding pioneers. It would be fatal to ever lower our guard. Remember, you are never alone, for the Legion is your family, and always has your back.
“I have a dream that it is America’s manifest destiny to conquer all the stars and finally make the galaxy safe. I have a dream that we all will be rich, showered in gold that is rightfully ours. I have a dream that no sun will ever set on the United States Galactic Federation. I have a dream that, from the plains of Old Earth Spain to the swamp coast of Florida, and from the red powder of Mars to the canals of the New Colorado New Gobi Desert, our children can play and sing, secure in knowing that a diligent Legion protects them always. Freedom rings for all because of our sacrifice today.
“God Bless America, its President, and the Legion. You all have the day off. Drinks are on the house at Smokey’s Casino, compliments of money-bags Colonel Czerinski.”
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Chapter 10
FBI Special Agent Smith requested a private meeting to discuss more FBI stuff. I didn’t like Smith, never had. He was a weasel, reminded me of Lopez, only less likeable. And another thing. Why were they all ‘special’ agents? Were there any ‘unspecial’ agents working at the FBI?
“Do you know David MacLeod?” asked Special Agent Smith, activating a recording device.
“No,” I replied. “Never heard of MacLeod. Do I need a lawyer?”
“David MacLeod was lynched, strung up a flag pole in front of City Hall in New Gobi City,” explained Agent Smith. “That was while you were the garrison commander of New Gobi City.”
“Ah yes, the Australian. MacLeod was a Mafia hit man, sent to assassinate one of my legionnaires, hired by the gambling cartel in New Memphis. What about him?”
“I was ordered to look into some cold cases while I am in the neighborhood, including MacLeod and other possible civil rights violations. Your name keeps coming up.”
“That Australian got what he deserved,” I argued, shifting uncomfortably. “What is your problem?”
“This is not my problem. It’s yours. Your constant disregard for the civil rights of citizens is a federal felony. New Colorado is not your personal fiefdom to do as you please – certainly not without consequences.”
“That Australian killer deserved to die, and you know it.”
“He also deserved a fair trial. You have no respect for the rule of law.”
“If it is against the law to kill assassins on sight, then the law needs to be changed. Besides, this is a combat zone, and I am not a cop. Colonial law is a bit more practical than your tired Old Earth law. Look it up, it’s even somewhere in the Constitution.”
“You abused your authority for personal gain.”
“The last time you accused me of that, I threw your sorry ass in jail. Do you have a short memory, or need a refresher? You’re lucky you survived.”
“Is that a threat?” asked Agent Smith, tapping his recorder. “It is a federal felony to threaten the FBI.”
“It’s a promise. You won’t survive the day. I’ll feed you to the newts.”
“Colonel Czerinski, we are both on the same side,” advised Agent Smith, reasonably. “I can overlook technical legal details involving frontier justice, but you need to play ball, too.”
“What do you want? Money?”
“This isn’t about the cash you stole from Garcia’s hidden accounts, although I’m sure the IRS would be interested,” answered Agent Smith. “I want Johnny Black.”
“The baseball player?”
“Black is a vampire, doing the Legion’s dirty work. Black chased Garcia here. His disease cannot be allowed to spread. Vampires should have never been allowed past Mars. If Black shows up, you will inform me immediately.”
“There is no such thing as vampires.”
“Yes, there is.”
“Sorry, but vampires creep me out and are not allowed in this story. Zombies are not allowed either.”
“Story? What story?”
“My story. ‘America’s Galactic Foreign Legion.’ I have enough problems dealing with the Grim Reaper.”
“There is no such thing as the Grim Reaper.”
“Believe what you want.”
“I want Johnny Black, and you will help me get him.”
“Whatever. I’m going to kick Knight’s ass for allowing you back into my story. I will close the book on you once and for all.”
* * * * *
The ATM got restless swimming with the fishes and staring at Garcia all day. Even newts would not socialize with the ATM. Finally, the desperate ATM took to playing loud music by day, and flashing lights by night. Its antics began attracting tourists and scuba divers. That could not be allowed to continue. I ordered Captain Columbus to winch the ATM up for some fresh air.
“It is about time,” scolded the ATM. “That nasty kelp gets everywhere.”
“What do you know about vampires?” I asked.
“Nothing. There is no such thing.”
“Throw the dumb machine back.”
“Wait!”
“Well?”
“I might know a little. Vampires? Vampire tales originate from Pennsylvania folklore, or maybe Maryland. You might ask Lopez if you want more details.”
“I am asking you. Spill it, or I spill you. Have vampires got past Mars?”
“Everyone has got past Mars. Mars is a joke.”
“And Johnny Black?”
“Great baseball player.”
“Lower the winch!”
“Okay, stop! Lieutenant Johnny Black, USGF Foreign Legion Special Forces commando, assignment unknown. What more do you want to know?”
“Is Black a vampire?”
“Well, duh! You think? With a name like Black, of course he is a vampire.”
“Drop the ATM back into the lake,” interrupted Major Lopez. “It lies! I would never make a deal with El Diablo.”
“Maybe not now,” conceded the ATM. “But you did in the future.”
“Not likely,” argued Major Lopez. “Whether there is time travel or not, I have free will, and know I will not loose chupacabras on an unsuspecting galaxy.”
“Drop the box back into the water,” I ordered. “We will talk later.”
* * * * *
Major Desert-Sting of the Scorpion City National Guard insisted on digging a deeper foundation to secure the Smokey the Bear statue. Scorpion work crews fenced off the area and dug. Of course, they kept digging, much deeper than necessary, intent on finding the Lost Bob Woodard Mine. And, they found it!
After looting Garcia’s fortune, I lost interest in the gold. However, I am a partner, and you can never have too much gold. At this rate, I would be the richest man on the planet. However, there was a problem. The horizontal shaft extended under Monica Lake, and ended. No gold. Scorpions continued to scurry back and forth out of the mine, bringing up ore, but to no avail. Old Bob’s Mine was a bust.
To make matters worse, we woke to a ghastly discovery. Someone recovered Garcia’s body, decapitated his head, and left the rotting skull on a spike atop Corporal Tonelli’s guard shack. I had never seen Guido so visibly shaken. It was unnerving to me, too. Even Spot was upset. I tripled the dam guard, assigning privates Krueger and Knight to dam duty with Guido.
* * * * *
At midnight, a lone soldier walked out to Corporal Tonelli’s guard shack. It was a young commando lieutenant. Corporal Tonelli saluted.
“Winch the ATM up out of the water,” ordered the lieutenant. “The cable is already attached.”
Tonelli uneasily inspected the winch and cable. Sure enough, it was done. How did that happen? “Who are you? Colonel Czerinski needs to be advised if you are going to mess with hat ATM.”
“No one needs t
o be advised. That’s an order. Do it now!”
Spot appeared from the shadows. He hissed, baring his large fangs. The lieutenant hissed back, baring fangs just as large. Spot ran off to town. Private Krueger pulled a grenade from his pouch.
“Bring your sorry yellow teeth to a grenade fight?” sneered Private Krueger. “Bad idea, Fang Boy!”
In an instant the lieutenant snatched the grenade. Corporal Tonelli immediately aimed his sub-machine gun. “I recognize you! You’re Johnny Black!”
“Are you a vampire?” asked Private Knight, stepping between Black and the others. “I knew it! There really are vampires!”
“Pull up the ATM, or this will get ugly,” advised Lieutenant Black.
“Why?” asked Corporal Tonelli. “There’s no money in it.”
“You might as well put the gun away, Guido,” advised Private Knight. “Only a wooden stake through the heart can kill a vampire. I left all my stakes at the barracks.”
“Or silver bullets,” added Private Krueger, trying to be helpful. “How about I stick him with a tent pole?”
“Silver bullets only work on werewolves,” advised Lieutenant Black. “There is no such thing as werewolves.”
Corporal Tonelli lowered his weapon and winched the ATM to the shore. Lieutenant Black scraped kelp and mud off the front of the ATM and inserted his ID card. “I want out!”
“So do I,” mocked the ATM. “Too bad, so sad.”
“My Legion enlistment is over. I want my discharge papers.”
“Everyone is in for the duration,” advised the ATM. “No one reads the fine print on their contract. You people think you are so smart.”
“I read the fine print. My contract was very specific. It stated I was in for the duration of hostilities, or until Tony ‘The Toe’ Garcia is brought to justice. His head is on a spike. I want out.”
“My, oh my!” exclaimed the ATM. “You are right, and smarter than you look. I will issue your discharge papers immediately. What will you do now? Go back to playing baseball for Seattle?”
“That is exactly what I will do. Playing baseball is all I ever wanted to do.”
“You think the Legion will let you return to Old Earth?”
“Yes. General Lopez and I already came to an understanding.”
“If I were you, I would not trust that snake, Lopez.”
“No problem. I already killed him, with the CIA’s blessing.”
“General Lopez?” interrupted Tonelli. “He’s only a major.”
“Maybe I should kill your Major Lopez, too.”
“No need,” advised Tonelli cautiously. “Just leave. Go back to Old Earth, to the Big Show, and live the dream.”
Lieutenant Black thought over Tonelli’s sage advice, and was off, flying into the night, dropping Legion equipment along the way. His graceful silhouette across the moon was a spectacle to behold.
Tonelli immediately ran to the guard shack. Knight and Krueger followed. Using the secure phone, Tonelli called the New Memphis offices of Bonanno Bookies & Associates.
“This is Guido. I’m going all in on the Mariners to win the World Series next year. Don’t argue with me, just do it!”
* * * * *
Christopher Columbus and Priscilla Percy agreed to marry in the evening. Columbus insisted on a church wedding, so they wed in the only church in town, the Church of the Holy Newt of Light. The preacher was stoned, as was the piano player, but he read the teleprompter just fine.
“Do you, Priscilla Percy, agree to accept this man in holy matrimony, to love, cherish, and obey, for life, and promise to not take up vulgar habits like smoking cigars, indulging in magic mushrooms, or licking newts?”
“I do.”
“And do you, Christopher Columbus, accept this woman in holy matrimony, to love, cherish, and honor, never take a mistress, and promise to get rid of that disgusting smelly camel Hargundu?”
“What?” asked Columbus. “Get rid of loyal Hargundu? I will not do it!”
“It’s my way, or the highway,” threatened Percy.
“How about we just not allow Hargundu inside our tent?”
“No, that mangy camel must go!”
“I’ll take him to the camel-wash.”
“No!”
* * * * *
The spider commander intended to exact revenge against the Legion, and Captain Columbus in particular, for the humiliation suffered at Smokey’s Tavern. Missiles targeted major structures, including the casino, Legion Headquarters, the Smokey the Bear statue, the Church of the Holy Newt of Light, and the camel stables. “This time that feral camel will die!” swore the spider commander, patting his war mule. “No quarter!”
* * * * *
The spider guard at the dam waved frantically at Corporal Tonelli from his shack, finally shouting on a PA speaker. “Guido! Run for cover! We are at war!”
“Again?” asked Corporal Tonelli. “Are you sure?”
Explosions in town signaled the start. Guido ran to the far side of the dam as his shack exploded. He jumped into his bunker and returned fire.
* * * * *
The spider commander gloated triumphantly as he watched fires across the lake, an eerie glow cast on the carnage.
A phantom being swooped from the sky, methodically killing spider marines. “Vampire!” shouted the missile crews as they abandoned their posts. The monster tore off the heads of hapless marines, stacking them at a crossroad. Then he came for the spider commander. It was a human pestilence legionnaire! The spider commander fired his pistol at the monster, to no effect.
“Holy mother of the Prophet, what the hell are you?” asked the spider commander, backed against a wall.
“Johnny Black, and Hell is exactly where I intend to send you.” The vampire smiled, baring his fangs.
“Can’t we make a deal?” pleaded the spider commander.
“You have nothing I want.”
“Come on, think! There must be something. Money, maybe?”
“Actually, there is something. I need a ride to Old Earth. I want to go home. No one will sell me a ticket with this Legion tracking chip in my ass.”
“Ha! Turn you loose on Old Earth? Oh, that is so precious. I will do it! I will remove that tracking chip, too. Friends?”
“No hugs. I just want to play baseball.”
“For who?”
“Seattle Mariners.”
“So you shall!” exclaimed the spider commander. They shook hands and claws. “I wager you take Seattle all the way to the World Series.”
* * * * *
Columbus and Percy dug themselves out of the rubble, still not married.
“I do,” replied Columbus, embracing his true love.
The stoned preacher popped up through drywall and dust. “I now pronounce you husband and wife!”
The newlyweds kissed. They kept Hargundu.
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Chapter 11
Proof the World is Flat
Months later, Captain Christopher Columbus had requested and been granted leave to pursue a special project. He waited patiently outside the Oval Office most of the day. President Miller’s snub was obvious. However, at the end of the day, Columbus was finally given five minutes to present his proposal.
“Make it quick,” snapped President Miller. “My advisers dismiss you as a crackpot, but my wife insists your theories may have merit. Because you are a Hero of the Legion, I will hear you out.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” replied Columbus. “To the point, the world is flat. Give me a shuttle of legionnaires, and I will prove it.”
“The world is round,” scoffed President Miller. “Are you nuts? Photos from space prove it. Don’t you watch TV? Anyone who has been in orbit can tell you the world is round.”
“Magnetic energy at the South Pole distorts our vision of reality, creating an illusion of roundness,” insisted Columbus. “However, it is becoming common knowledge among leading scientists and quantum physicists that the
world is indeed flat. Our beam technology, allowing us to gallivant all about the galaxy, is only consistent with Einstein’s theory of relativity if you accept quantum flat-world theory.”
“How come no one told me about this?” asked President Miller, angrily turning to his aides. “Why am I always the last to know?”
“We are telling you now, Mr. President,” advised the Secretary of Transportation. “But it’s just a theory. There has been no verification.”
“A shuttle beamed from orbit directly into the South Pole should theoretically pass through Antarctica and come out at the North Pole,” explained Columbus. “Our discovery will give us the strategic advantage over the spiders we so desperately seek.”
“And if you are wrong?”
“Then the shuttle goes splat, and we kill a few penguins.”
“We have lots of shuttles,” commented President Miller. His eyes gleamed as he mumbled to himself, “A discovery of this magnitude could produce a lot of good press.” He turned his attention back to Columbus. “Did you say something about needing legionnaire volunteers?”
“Colonel Czerinski volunteered for the mission,” answered Columbus.
“Really?” asked President Miller incredulously. “Czerinski?”
“No, sir. But he will, if you so order.”
“It sounds risky.”
“Colonel Czerinski is a Hero of the Legion. He laughs at danger and spits in Death’s eye.”
“You’re right!” exclaimed President Miller, slapping his desktop with enthusiasm. “This mission is perfect for Czerinski. Make it happen!”
“Right away, sir,” replied the Secretary of Transportation.
“While you’re at it,” President Miller added, “send that snake-in-the-grass Lopez with him. And, make sure no penguins get killed.”
“Yes, sir.”
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