by PP
“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.
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CHAPTER 9
“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.”
