* * * * *
I was ordered back to Earth to personally supervise the muster of much-needed combat-seasoned legionnaires, recruited from the Third Army. Some did not want to leave. I was accompanied by Major Lopez and Captain Columbus. Our shuttle flawlessly beamed into Earth maintaining orbit over Antarctica.
“You are an excellent navigator, Captain Columbus,” I commented, comfortably gazing down at the sheets of ice. “You’re a naturally gifted star traveler.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Captain Columbus. “Do you have faith in God Almighty?”
“Of course I believe in God,” I answered, slightly irritated. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Czerinski does his praying in the casino, at the Altar of Blackjack,” scoffed Major Lopez, nervously staring out the portal. “Why are we hovering over Antarctica? We are supposed to land at Fort Polk.”
“I did not ask if you believed in God,” continued Captain Columbus, ignoring Lopez. “Belief in God is a given. I asked, do you have faith in God?”
“Whatever. Get us down to Tigerland. That’s an order.”
“Sir, do you see that black dot on the ice? It is a vast colony of nesting Emperor Penguins, huddling to stay warm.”
“So?”
“That same spot also happens to be the exact location of Earth’s magnetic South Pole. It’s ironic, in a way.”
“I see nothing ironic about penguins freezing their asses off. Stop sightseeing, and get us home.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Captain Columbus, immediately plunging the shuttle into the atmosphere. “Better strap in. Impact in minutes!”
“Have you gone nuts?” I shouted, helplessly thrust back into my seat. “After all we have been through together, you would kill us all?”
“Lord willing, we shall not die. At least, not today!”
“Loco bendaho!” accused Major Lopez. “Pull up before it’s too late!”
“The President himself authorized this mission of exploration. We will rewrite history. I will prove the world is flat. I will be Admiral of the Stars!”
“Flat? You will prove us flat when we hit Earth!” I protested.
“Splat, like Wiley Coyote,” added Major Lopez, crossing himself. “You punk!”
“Doubting Thomases. I have always proved my critics wrong. I have no time for critics. You will see. The world is flat!”
“What about those poor innocent penguins?” I asked desperately, watching the dot grow larger. “Did you know killing penguins is a felony?”
“All great scientific discovery involves risk. Today we break a few egg shells, tomorrow we eat omelets for breakfast!”
“I don’t want to die!”
“Don’t be a sissy.”
“You sick crazy bastard!” I shouted, struggling for my pistol. “I’ll see you in Hell!”
My world went black.
* * * * *
I woke to a ruined shuttle, crashed on the ice. Columbus and Lopez lay unconscious, still strapped to their seats. Enraged, I lumbered out of my seat and went over to Columbus, repeatedly punching him in the face and kicking him in the ribs for good measure. Outside the portal, burnt feathers and penguin shit littering the ice. Damn!
A polar bear smashed its gnarly yellow teeth against the portal. Saliva splattered across the glass, freezing in place. The polar bear waved his fluffy white paw, as if saying hello. How cute. I opened the portal and shot Fluffy in the head. The polar bear flopped about on the ice in a spasm, spewing crimson from its mouth. The poor pathetic creature lifted its chin, staring with those sad brown eyes. Why? Mercifully, I shot it again.
“Are you okay?” asked Captain Columbus, waking from the sound of gunfire. He staggered to the portal. “I’m afraid I didn’t fare so well. What are you shooting at?”
“I’m fine. I shot a polar bear for food. We may be stranded here for a while.”
“Nonsense,” interrupted Major Lopez, also waking up. “Our automatic distress signal activated upon impact. Rescue craft are en route. You didn’t have to shoot the bear.”
“Really?”
“I hope you get arrested for poaching. Polar bears have been on the Endangered Species List ever since global cooling killed all the stupid seals.”
“Stupid bear.”
“That noble beast will make a fine rug,” commented Captain Columbus. “If you aren’t going to eat it, can I have it? Priscilla will love it.”
“No. That’s my bear. I’m going to stuff it and put him in my window.”
“Oh, My God!” exclaimed Captain Columbus, pointing. “Do you realize what that polar bear represents?”
“Shut up about the bear, or I’ll kick your ass again.”
“We did it!” announced Captain Columbus triumphantly. “I told you so. We passed through a magnetic vortex, all the way to the North Pole. Four plus five equals ten minus one!”
“What?”
“We proved the world is flat!”
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PART II
Lieutenant Patton
Chapter 12
General George S. Patton, the victim of an auto accident, lay paralyzed from the neck down at a military hospital in Heidelberg-Sudstadt, Germany. “After all I’ve been through, son-of-bitch!” fumed General Patton. Unceremoniously, the great general died ... sort of. The Grim Reaper took General Patton, but not to meet his Maker.
“You and your Third Army are needed on New Colorado,” explained the Grim Reaper, pointing his scythe. “I owe Colonel Czerinski a favor, and you are it. You will fight the Empire during America’s most dire time of need.”
“Ike already gave Poland and half of Europe to the Russian horde,” lamented General Patton, reaching for his ivory grip pistol and finding it missing. “Against my advice, I might add. The man has political aspirations. Am I dead or what? What kind of Goddamn abomination are you? You aren’t even human!”
“Colonel Czerinski is short of replacement troops because of Congressional budget woes, and Democrats,” advised the Grim Reaper, ignoring the general’s questions. “You and about a thousand American soldiers from your Third Army will fill the Legion replacement quotas nicely. Your life, health, and youth will be restored. In exchange, you will be beamed to the New Gobi Desert for the duration.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“We’re not going home?”
“No.”
“Because of Democrats?”
“It’s more complicated than that. Everyone thinks you died.”
“I didn’t?”
“Not completely. Call it a reprieve.”
“Outstanding! Our job isn’t finished anyway. I’ll need a lot more than a thousand GIs to save Europe from those Mongolian bastards.”
“Not Europe, planet New Colorado. You will fight the spiders of the Arthropodan Empire. You will do your duty. One more thing. When you get to New Colorado, tell Christopher Columbus no one cheats Death forever!”
* * * * *
I am Colonel Joey R. Czerinski, Hero of the Legion, Butcher of New Colorado, and commander of United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion garrison troops at New Gobi City, Planet of New Colorado.
The fact that humanity was alone in a galaxy of sentient exoskeleton species – bugs – did not sit well as I gazed across the DMZ at spider troops. We needed a final solution to this spider infestation, and I was determined to find that solution.
Armored reinforcements arrived, led by a brash, newly-minted second lieutenant named George Smith Patton. Rumor had it that Patton was a distant shirt-tailed relation to the famous General Patton of antiquity, and had fashioned himself to be a future general of similar epic talent.
No problem. Ordering Lieutenant Patton to DMZ patrol to search for roadside bombs would settle him down real quick, or else kill him. The New Gobi Desert is not kind to newcomers, as parched bones and exoskeletons will give testament. It is best to find shade, and just sit and observe for a wh
ile. Everything in the desert bites, stings, and pokes.
* * * * *
“Lieutenant Patton, reporting for duty with my Third Army as ordered, sir!” Patton stood rigid in front of my desk, waiting for his salute to be returned. His Legion uniform was immaculate, complete with highly polished riding boots, and a tie.
“He is not going to survive even one day,” scoffed Major Lopez, my XO, standing off to the side. “It’s too hot in the New Gobi for your fancy boots and that stinking tie.”
“At ease,” I advised, finally returning the salute. “He’s right. Things may be different for you tankers, but it’s way too hot for infantry. Are those boots regulation?”
“Do you like them?” asked Lieutenant Patton. “I designed them myself. I believe in esprit de corps, and leading by example. Don’t worry about the heat. My tanks are air conditioned, and my Third Army has extensive desert training and experience.”
“Stop!” I interrupted. “You command E-Company, assigned to DMZ patrol. You will deploy east of town where the spiders have been sniping at us. I expect your armor to put an end to that, once and for all.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.” Lieutenant Patton saluted again, abruptly leaving to greet his tankers arriving by shuttle at the Walmart parking lot.
“What do you think?” asked Major Lopez. “A real go-getter?”
“I wasn’t finished chewing his ass.”
“Patton will be fine if we can keep him alive until he gets orientated. It’s about time General Daly sent us some armor. Now we have some kick-ass firepower.”
“Whatever. Those tanks are just bigger targets for the spiders.”
* * * * *
Lieutenant Patton had never seen a Walmart Super Store before. He was in awe as the glass door opened and a gust of refreshing air-conditioned breeze swept his face.
“Welcome to Walmart, home of one-stop shopping for the galaxy,” exclaimed a greeter. “Are you new to the New Gobi?”
“I’m new to this world,” explained Lieutenant Patton, chuckling at his inside joke. “A fine establishment you have here. Outstanding. God damned outstanding!”
“Can I help you find anything in particular?” asked the greeter.
“Guns and ammo. I hear New Colorado is a target-rich environment.”
“That will be aisle fourteen, to the left.”
Lieutenant Patten strode leisurely down the narrow aisles. Twice he was almost run over by fat ladies pushing shopping carts. Now on guard, Patton found his own shopping cart, pushing it tentatively ahead to the next intersection leading to a large open space. Oddly, a bright yellow and red line divided the middle of the store. As he pushed past it, alarm lights and sirens went off.
“Halt!” ordered a heavily armed spider marine. “You are trespassing on Arthropodan Empire territory! Surrender now, human pestilence!”
This was no blue-light special sale. That bastard monster pointed an automatic weapon at Patton’s Roman nose. “What the hell are you?” asked Lieutenant Patton incredulously. “This is America, and you are an abomination from Hell!”
“Hands in the air! Resistance is futile!”
“Are you nuts?”
“Last warning!”
Patton quick drew both his ivory handled revolvers, blasting the spider marine to bits. Walmart floor sweepers and sales clerks scattered in all directions.
“I suggest you take cover.”
Lieutenant Patton swiveled about, his pistols at the ready. “Who said that?”
“You just caused an intergalactic incident,” advised the voice from sporting goods. “I would not be surprised if the spiders called in an air strike.”
“That beady-eyed Martian tried to kill me,” argued Lieutenant Patton, surveying an oddly streamlined jukebox. .“What the hell are you? Some kind of robot?”
“I am a United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion ATM, the answer to all your monetary requirements, and the last ATM you will ever need. That was not a Martian you killed. It was an Arthropodan marine moonlighting as a Walmart security guard. Tough job in a tough neighborhood. Did you just fall off the turnip truck, or what?”
“I arrived on a shuttle, direct from Earth.”
“You may have just started another war. I will do my best to alter the security video recording.”
“Don’t bother. We’ve been pussyfooting around with these God damn alien bugs long enough! They’re more pushy and uncouth than those bandit Mongol horde Russians!”
“Please take cover. Legion recruitment quotas are becoming exceedingly difficult to fill. We don’t want to lose you on your first day on New Colorado.”
Patton ducked behind kitchen appliances just as an RPG arced overhead. Legion automatic fire returned the favor. One of Patton’s tanks crashed through the south wall, leading infantry. More were arriving, direct off the shuttle ramp. God, it was beautiful. The spiders fell back, abandoning Walmart to American hands. The Battle of Walmart was Patton’s first victory!
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Chapter 13
The Arthropodan Governor of the North Territory called the spider commander for an update on recent hostilities in New Gobi City. He was not a happy spider. “Your request for air support is denied! What are you doing? Trying to start another war? In the height of tourist season?”
“The human pestilence attack on my marines was unprovoked,” replied the spider commander. “The Americans have brought in armor. I fear more reckless adventurism on their part.”
“Video recordings on the database news indicates otherwise,” scoffed the governor. “It appears your marine commando tried to assassinate a Legion officer innocently shopping in Walmart. An RPG blew up the Home and Garden Department. I do not need this sort of bad press during an election year!”
“Democracy is another curse from the human pestilence. No good will ever come of it. I believe that video has been altered.”
“A business agent from Walmart presented me with a multi-million-credit bill for the destruction of his new super store. That money is coming out of your paycheck!”
“Good luck with that.”
“Do not disrespect me,” admonished the governor. “I’ll have you guarding oil rigs at the North Pole!”
“Continued human pestilence provocations are not my fault. It was not my marines that flattened Walmart with tanks.”
“It is your job to make sure local incidents stay local. I don’t give a lizard’s ass about Walmart. There is another matter I want you to look into. That Legion armor flown in on shuttles cannot be explained.”
“Sir?”
“Usually when Legion transport ships beam from Old Earth and Mars, we can track their movement. These latest transports just miraculously appeared out of nowhere at the South Pole. Find out how the human pestilence did that.”
“How do you propose I do that?”
Sic Military Intelligence on it. Abduct legionnaires for interrogation. I don’t care how you get the information, just do it!”
* * * * *
“You’re here not more than thirty minutes, and already you start a war?” I shouted. “As if I don’t get enough bad press!”
“Sir, the video recording exonerates me of any wrong doing,” argued Lieutenant Patton. “How was I to know you have been cozying up to those scurvy spiders and sharing our Walmart Super Store? That sort of appeasement is un-American and weakens galactic resolve against spider aggression.”
“That video has an ATM’s guilty fingerprints all over it,” I commented suspiciously. “How did you manage that?”
“ATMs don’t leave fingerprints. Don’t worry about the press. I’ve dealt with them before. Those limp-dicked pansies can go to Hell.”
“You can’t just shoot spiders on sight,” I insisted. “It’s incredible the Legion allowed you to command tanks.”
“Sir, may I speak frankly? We need to clean out that spider nest over there while we have the firepower to do it. If we don’t, those bu
g savages will swarm across the border, raping, eating, and pillaging.”
“I don’t like the spiders much either, but we are at truce, and technically the Arthropodan Empire is an ally. We are here to keep the peace, not start wars! Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you sure you understand?”
“I am but a simple soldier, doing my duty. I understand history tragically repeats itself.”
“Don’t shoot any more spiders!”
“Yes, sir.”
* * * * *
Mountain Claw, spider bandit extraordinaire, plotted his next robbery. The bank heist would be a piece of cake. Mountain Claw and his henchmen spiders would hit the First Colonial Bank of New Gobi City when it opened, then race back across the border to safety. What could go wrong?
When the bank opened, Mountain Claw entered, along with other customers. He wore a hoodie covering his face to defeat the video cameras. Two henchmen loitered nervously in the lobby by the door. Mountain Claw stood patiently in line at the teller’s cage.
Stepping up to the cage, Mountain Claw passed a note, written on the backside of a Skittles candy wrapper: ‘This is a robbery. I have a gun and will use it. Fill the bag with large bills only.’
“Oh my!” exclaimed the bank teller. “Please don’t shoot!”
“Not so loud. Come on, show me the money.”
“Show me the gun.”
“What?”
“It’s bank policy to require all robbers to prove they have a gun,” insisted the nervous bank teller. “Sorry, it’s a legal thing put in by the lawyers to thwart the homeless and mentally ill.”
“I am serious. Human pestilence will get hurt if you don’t give me the money.”
“You didn’t even bring a bag,” replied the bank teller, more confident. “I’ll bet you don’t even have a gun.”
Mountain Claw motioned to one of his henchmen by the door. A twitchy spider came over. “Yeah, boss? What’s up? We need to get out of here.”
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