Peacekeepers

by Walter Knight

“There are national security issues involved,” I argued. “Lives could be at risk.”

  “Substantial wagers were placed on the California Kingdom Angels to beat the New York Yankees, and there is evidence the game was fixed,” stated Agent Smith, slamming his fist on my desk. “That constitutes criminal conspiracy at the highest level, not national security. Did you bet on the Yankees-Angels game, too?”

  “Gambling information is kept confidential here on New Colorado,” I replied.

  “Do you want to go to jail for obstruction of justice?” threatened Agent Morrison. “We have information indicating you have made a lot of large financial transactions recently.”

  “You have been snooping into my finances?” I asked. “Did you get a search warrant?”

  “A certain ATM tipped us off,” answered Agent Smith. “We don’t need a search warrant. ATMs are duty-bound to report suspicious criminal activity. We have probable cause to arrest you right now, but we have much bigger fish to fry. Come clean, or you will go to jail for years!”

  “Are you offering me a deal?” I asked.

  “Do you need a deal?” asked Agent Morrison. “Are you feeling guilty about something in particular? What do you know of wagering on fixed sporting events? How many times has this happened?”

  “I think I should talk to an attorney before continuing this conversation.”

  “You do not need a lawyer,” advised Agent Morrison. “All we want you to do is to tell us your side of the story. This is your opportunity to say what you are going to tell the judge anyway. Otherwise, we will have no choice but to arrest you, based on the statements of the others in the conspiracy.”

  “Judge?” I asked. “Others? You are not hauling me before any judge. I want to exercise my right to remain silent.”

  “You are under arrest for obstruction of justice,” advised Agent Morrison, reaching for handcuffs.

  “I don’t think so,” I responded, pressing a button under my desk. Corporal Wayne and a squad of armed legionnaires burst into the room, pointing assault rifles.

  “Arrest these two for being undesirables on New Colorado,” I ordered, “and for disturbing my peace. Lock them up in the dungeon downstairs!”

  “What if they resist arrest?” asked Corporal Wayne.

  “Shoot them if they so much as twitch in the wrong direction.”

  “You can’t do this!” yelled Agent Morrison. “How dare you obstruct a federal investigation? I will see you prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law!”

  “You have no authority to arrest us,” added Agent Smith. “This is an outrage. You don’t know who you are dealing with!”

  “I have the authority as Regional Commander of Peacekeepers to arrest anyone who is a menace to local, world, or galactic peace,” I said. “That means you.”

  “You are violating the Constitution!” said Agent Morrison. “Separation of powers!” “Now you are lawyers?” I scoffed. “You know colonial law rules here on New Colorado.” “Federal law preempts colonial law,” argued Agent Morrison, as Corporal Wayne gave him a shove. “You will not get away with this!” “Scorpion City is a semi autonomous region,” I added. “But you can talk to the judge about the intricacies of local law when he gets back from vacation.”

  “When will that be?” demanded Agent Morrison.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “He hasn’t left yet.”

  “You all are in big trouble!” exclaimed Agent Morrison, as Corporal Wayne led them downstairs. “I hope you know you can be prosecuted for following illegal orders. Captain Czerinski must be insane to think he can get away with this.”

  “Captain Czerinski is a paragon of sanity in an insane galaxy,” advised Corporal Wayne. “And he has release papers to prove it.”

  “If that’s true, then the galaxy is in big trouble!” said Agent Morrison. “How did that madman dumb-ass fool ever get to be a Legion officer?”

  “Captain Czerinski is a fine officer,” advised Corporal Wayne. “He is the glue that holds the Legion together out here on the Frontier. We need more officers like Colonel Czerinski.”

  “The Legion and the Frontier must be a sticky mess,” commented Agent Morrison, dejectedly. “Czerinski should be locked up in a nut house.”

  “Have you ever visited a nut house?” asked Corporal Wayne. “The first visit is always a shock.”

  * * * * *

  Miracles of modern medicine allowed Colonel Lopez to quickly recover from his injuries. Bones were glued back together and skin patches grown. He left without even saying goodbye or thank you. He was mollified a little by the large amount of money he made on the Yankees-Angels game. Lopez sent me a text message as he left. ‘Have you seen or heard from two missing Assistant USGF Attorney General investigators sent to look into sports gambling irregularities? They seem to be lost.’

  I did not bother to reply. “Corporal Wayne!” I called on the office intercom. “Have you fed our two prisoners lately?” “What prisoners?” asked Corporal Wayne. “We have prisoners?” “In the dungeon!” I said. “Do you remember those two feds?” “I thought we released them a long time ago,” replied Corporal Wayne. “Didn’t they see the judge when he got back from vacation?” “Go check on them!” I ordered. Corporal Wayne went downstairs as ordered. He brought a box of leftover KFC from the refrigerator just in case they were hungry. Wayne peered through the bars. They were still there, and appeared to be sleeping. Corporal Wayne slid the KFC through the bars, then clanged the keys on the door to wake them.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Are you alive?”

  Agent Morrison woke up first. He had grown a beard and appeared to me unstable and weak. “Where have you been? No one has fed us in weeks.”

  Agent Smith woke up, too. “Is that real food?” asked Smith. “We’ve been eating tooth paste and our shoes. A few days ago, we trapped and killed a bat. I ate it raw. It tasted like chicken. Do you have rabies on New Colorado? I need my shots.”

  “There is chicken in the box,” advised Corporal Wayne. “It is Kentucky Fried Chicken. It’s claw-licking good.”

  “Can you let us out now?” asked Agent Smith, contritely. “We won’t cause you any more trouble. I just want to leave New Colorado forever.”

  “I will ask Captain Czerinski,” promised Corporal Wayne. “I am sorry we forgot about you for a while. I thought the judge let you go.”

  “Let us out of here!” shouted Agent Morrison. “Tell Czerinski we want out!”

  * * * * *

  “They are still alive?” I asked, incredulous. “That is truly amazing. Corporal, don’t you forget to feed the feds again. That’s an order! And have both checked by a medic.”

  “They want to know when they will be released,” said Corporal Wayne. “Morrison said something about cruel and unusual punishment, and writing a Writ of Habeas Corpus.”

  “I do not know what that is. They will need to see the judge before we can release them, but the judge went on vacation again. I think he went duck hunting. They will just have to wait for his return. I’ll send the judge a text about them as a reminder.”

  * * * * *

  The Scorpion Superior Court Judge looked down at the two feds. His Honor was upset about having to cut short this hunting trip. “This is an order to show cause hearing. You both need to demonstrate to the Court why you should not be caused to be killed and eaten for dinner. Normally we do not eat humans because it ticks off the Legion and is bad for tourism, but Captain Czerinski has charged you both with disturbing his peace and being undesirables on New Colorado, and assures me it will be okay to eat you this time. Is it true you both are lawyers?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” replied Agent Morrison. “This is outrageous!”

  “Well that settles that,” said the scorpion judge. “I find you both guilty on the charge of being undesirables on New Colorado. Now, about this disturbing the peace business.”

  “We are both federal investigators,” in
sisted Agent Morrison. “What kind of court is this? I demand to be released or allowed to post bail.”

  “This is not the kind of court that just releases people without looking into matters thoroughly,” advised the scorpion judge. “Especially this close to dinner time. These are serious charges you are facing. Did you disturb Captain Czerinski’s peace?”

  “We were investigating sports bet fixing,” explained Agent Morrison. “I believe Captain Czerinski is withholding important evidence.”

  “Are you referring to the recent Yankees-Angels game?” asked the scorpion judge. “That was a great game. What a rally in the ninth inning! I won a lot of money on that game. Are you an Angels fan?”

  “I was born and raised in New York City,” answered Agent Morrison. “I am a lifelong Yankees fan.”

  “Oh,” said the scorpion judge. “That is not good. I may have to revoke or raise your bail for reasons of public safety and flight risk.”

  “This is absurd,” fumed Agent Morrison. “Why would a federal agent be a flight risk?”

  “I see an additional charge was filed while you were in custody,” said the scorpion judge, checking the filing paperwork more closely. “Is it true you killed a poor defenseless bat?”

  “We were starving to death!” answered Agent Morrison. “The Legion forgot to feed us! It is common knowledge the Legion is notorious for abusing prisoners!”

  “You will be held in contempt of court and quickly barbequed if you raise your voice to the Court again,” advised the scorpion judge, sternly. “Don’t you know bats are on the Endangered Species List? And, they are extremely valuable for mosquito control.”

  “Are you serious?” asked Agent Morrison.

  “Oh yes,” said the scorpion judge. “A bat can eat more than its own weight in mosquitoes. But, we are getting off track. About this matter of Disturbing the Peace, did Captain Czerinski advise you there were national security issues involved?”

  “Yes, but I have reason to not believe Czerinski,” explained Agent Morrison.

  “You take it upon yourself to disregard and disbelieve our Peacekeeper Commander when he tells you there are national security issues in play?” asked the scorpion judge. “Don’t you think that is a bit reckless on your part?”

  “But he was lying,” explained Agent Morrison. “He probably even bet on the game himself after helping to fix it.”

  “Mr. Smith, you have been unusually quiet, considering the gravity of these proceedings,” said the scorpion judge. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “This was all just a misunderstanding,” replied Agent Smith. “I think that if Captain Czerinski lied, he probably had a good reason. I am confident Captain Czerinski had legitimate national security concerns. After all, the galactic frontier is a very dangerous place. I consider the matter of the investigation to be closed, and charges dropped. I’m sorry about the bat. I did not know bats on New Colorado were on the Endangered Species List. If I had, I would have starved to death before eating it. I realize ignorance of the law is no excuse, and plead no contest. All I want is to pay my fine and leave your fair planet as soon as possible, never to return. Did I mention I am an Angels fan and a registered Republican?”

  “You are fined three million dollars,” announced the scorpion judge. “I will suspend jail time on condition of prompt payment for your fine. You may pay the Court clerk and leave.”

  “Do you take VISA?” asked Agent Smith. “I have a Platinum Card.”

  “Of course,” replied the judge. “VISA or personal check are fine with valid ID. We do not accept American Express.”

  “What about Agent Morrison?” asked Smith. “Can he pay the fine and leave, too? We have a lot of crime to fight back in New York City. I heard just the other day the Statue of Liberty got mugged and still has both hands up.”

  “I hope to visit New York City someday,” said the scorpion judge. “Just to see the lights.” “It’s a great town,” boasted Agent Smith. “There’s something happening all the time. Most of it unsolved.” “Agent Morrison will be staying for dinner,” advised the scorpion judge.

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  Chapter 5

  Based on military intelligence and rumors, Colonel Lopez suspected militia leader and terrorist mastermind Mountain Storm possessed at least one more nuke. Satellite sensors confirmed Lopez’s suspicions by detecting a hot spot on Mountain Storm’s hill. Colonel Lopez ordered me to seize the nuke.

  “How do you expect me to do that?” I asked. “Mountain Storm is dug in too well. Even the spiders cannot get rid of him, and he’s on their territory.”

  “Surprise me,” replied Colonel Lopez. “You’re the one who is going to do it, so you work out the details. I’m sure a resourceful officer like you will figure something out.”

  “Why don’t we just nuke the whole ridge off the map?” I suggested. “Turn it all to glass.”

  “Now you are being lazy,” answered Colonel Lopez. “We want to prevent the use of nukes. That is why we are attacking in the first place. General Daly says using nukes is unacceptable. Your part of New Colorado already has too many hot spots. I told Daly I knew you would do your best. What more can I do?”

  “Thanks a lot,” I said, disconnecting the phone. I looked closer at my map. A plan was forming in my mind. At night, the Space Weapons Platform T. Roosevelt would bomb Mountain Storm’s camp. Then legionnaires would parachute down and seize the nuke and flush out the tunnels, hopefully killing Mountain Storm.

  It was a good plan. Simplicity is always better in battle. I even arranged for the spider commander to look the other way during our assault. He was not happy to find out Mountain Storm had nukes, especially since the nukes were probably stolen from Arthropodan stockpiles during the last war.

  The T. Roosevelt lit up Mountain Storm’s hilltop stronghold right on schedule. However, most battles can only be characterized as organized disorder. At worst, a battle can turn to chaos, especially at night. Such was the case tonight. As I floated down in my parachute, a sudden dust storm blew my legionnaires off course, scattering them everywhere. My perfect plan turned to shit.

  I approached the ground with zero visibility, even with night scope goggles. I crashed through the roof of a small building, landing on my back, my right arm broken and hanging uselessly at my side. Blinded, I tore off my goggles. To my surprise, I saw a stunned Guido and spider border guard seated at a small table, poker cards still in their hands, staring at me.

  “What did I tell you about fraternization with the enemy?” I asked, weakly. I felt I was about to pass out from the pain. “Nice of you to drop in for a visit,” replied Guido, getting up to help. “Is this a surprise inspection? Are you alright, sir?” “I’ll be alright when the pain stops,” I commented. “Which side of the border am I on?” “You are on the Empire’s side,” announced the spider border guard. “You are my prisoner!” “Guido, shoot him!” I ordered, fumbling for my pistol with my left hand. My weapon fell to the floor, clattering away. “I will not be taken prisoner again!”

  I passed out, concussed. Guido ignored the spider border guard and dragged me to his own guard shack. The other legionnaire commandos were scattered all about on both sides of the border. The attack on Mountain Storm was aborted. The spider commander quickly repatriated all legionnaires before dawn, to avoid another diplomatic incident. He issued his usual stern warning about Legion adventurism, and insisted bombing targets inside the Empire would not be tolerated.

  * * * * *

  “How come you did not tell me the Legion was going to bomb my camp a second time?” Mountain Storm demanded over the phone. “I almost got killed!”

  “I am just a corporal,” explained Guido. “Captain Czerinski does not consult me on bombing schedules. Get real!” “I am sorry, Guido,” said Mountain Storm. “I am a bit on edge lately.” “You better give up that second nuke,” suggested Guido. “Or they will hit you again.” “I never told anyone I had
another nuke,” said Mountain Storm. “Is that what this is all about? You told Czerinski I have a second nuke? That nuke is my insurance policy. If I am ever cornered, I will set it off.”

  “I will do you a big favor,” replied Guido. “But only because you are a friend. I will buy that nuke from you. I’m connected. I can sell it for a fortune.”

  “I have plans for that nuke,” said Mountain Storm. “But I will think about it. Okay?”

  “Maybe I can sweeten the deal,” offered Guido. “Once a year I get a sure-thing tip on a Seattle Mariners fixed game. Keep that in mind before you go exploding that nuke. Remember, it takes money to make money. I’ll hook you up.”

  “Thanks, Guido,” said Mountain Storm. “For a human pestilence, you are a real buddy.”

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  Chapter 6

  Hidden-Sting and his band of scorpion freedom fighters watched the oil rig workers and Arthropodan marines finish up for the day on this new section of pipeline construction. The spiders had been making excellent progress, so it was time to put an end to that. Hidden among the surrounding rocks, the scorpions planned to hit fast and be gone before Arthropodan Air Wing support could respond.

  The massacre started with machine gun fire and mortars. Panicked spiders fled to the desert. Pursuing scorpions hunted them down. All the fleeing spiders were killed. A scorpion feeding frenzy followed. Feasting on the vanquished was a time-honored scorpion tradition.

  By the time the first Arthropodan Air Wing gunships arrived, the scorpions had dispersed and burrowed back into the desert sand. Pipeline and construction equipment lay burning and in ruins. Dark smoke could be seen for miles. Some spider body parts remained, but not many. Hidden-Sting celebrated his first victory of many to come over the spider beasts and their Evil Empire.