Peacekeepers

by Walter Knight

  All election results are required to be certified by the Emperor. It is rumored that His Majesty does not think Mountain Storm is fit for office. Whether the Emperor’s low opinion of Mountain Storm will affect the certification process remains to be seen. Democracy advocates feel Imperial meddling in election vote outcomes would set a bad precedent.

  * * * * *

  A week later, the Emperor declared the election invalid due to obvious ballot fraud. He appointed Dragon King Provisional Regional Governor until a new election could be organized. A source at the Palace suggested the Emperor might ask for neutral peacekeepers already serving along the border to supervise the next election. This was thought to be the only fair solution to an already tainted election process.

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  Chapter 13

  General Daly talked to me on the monitor. “The Emperor has been in close communications with the President again,” said the general. “You know what that means?”

  “We’re screwed?” I asked.

  “It means we have a mission,” explained General Daly. “That’s what we live for!”

  “That means I’m screwed,” I repeated. “Right?”

  “Are you being a smart-ass?” asked General Daly. “I can’t stand smart-asses.” “Me either,” I replied. “They should all be rounded up and sent here.” “Don’t mock me, Czerinski,” warned General Daly. “Where is your blue helmet? Didn’t I talk to you about that earlier?” “It got squashed by a Toyota. I have been wearing a blue baseball cap instead.” “It’s not the same,” insisted General Daly. “I want my peacekeepers to look professional.” “Sir, in the New Gobi Desert, it’s a hundred degrees in the winter. Wearing a helmet will fry my brain.” “Oh, well, we don’t want that, do we?” asked General Daly. “Your brain is already halfway fried. Let me see your blue cap.” “I reached in my desk drawer and tried to flash my cap too fast for Daly to get a good look. “See?” “That is a Yankees baseball cap! It clashes with your Legion uniform and looks tacky!” “Fine. Did you say you called about a mission?” “I will get to that in a minute,” said General Daly. “Don’t try to sidetrack me! Colonel Lopez thinks you should paint your armored cars blue, too. I agree. It would look sharp and identify you more readily as peacekeepers.”

  “Remind me to kick Lopez’s butt,” I said. “Blue armored cars will scare the hell out of the insurgents. I can see them trembling now.”

  “I warned you about being a smart-ass,” said General Daly.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, about your mission. It seems the spiders have mucked up their local election for regional governor, and it’s causing some difficulties. The Emperor suggested that impartial peacekeepers guard and escort the ballot boxes, and assist in counting during the next election to be held shortly. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “Why me?” I asked. “You think I am impartial?”

  “You and your legionnaires have more experience with those spiders than anyone else,” explained General Daly. “Your special relationship and appreciation of Arthropodan culture will help make for a smooth transition into democracy.”

  “Sir, I hate spiders,” I argued. “They are the enemy. When they first came to New Colorado, they attempted genocide against humanity. Nothing has changed. They are still the same species. I don’t give a damn about their elections. I say let them fight it out among themselves. That way there may be a lot fewer of them for us to have to kill later.”

  “That’s nonsense!” said General Daly. “The spiders are allies now. Besides, they have changed. No species that eats at McDonald’s and Pizza Hut can be the enemy of democracy and the American Way. Did you know the Yankees are about to put a spider in their starting rotation? I am more concerned about your scorpions rebelling and stabbing us in the back. Lopez is still pissed off about the Scorpion City National Guard shooting him down!”

  “I don’t like scorpions either,” I said. “But you still play poker and drink with both spiders and scorpions on Saturday nights. I know all about your addictions.” “I am going to kill Mountain Storm if it’s the last thing I do,” I promised. “I have no problem with that. Just don’t kill him until after he loses the election. Or make it look like Dragon King did it. We need to make this democracy thing work. Democracy will solidify the Arthropodan Empire’s status as a dependable ally of the USGF and as a responsible member of the galaxy of nations.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Two more things,” added General Daly. “Commensurate with your additional duties, the President ordered me to promote you to major. So, I guess I have to follow orders.”

  “Thank you for your confidence,” I replied. “I feel better now.”

  “Also, to back you up, we are sending you a brand new space battle support cruiser to replace that rusty bucket of bolts, the T. Roosevelt. The T. Roosevelt is so old, it is amazing it hasn’t fallen from orbit by now.”

  “The T. Roosevelt Space Weapons Platform has been a good friend in the sky for a long time,” I said. “I will miss the T. Roosevelt.”

  “Anyway, the USGF Battle Support Cruiser P. Paulson will make its maiden voyage to New Colorado, shortly,” commented General Daly. “The P. Paulson’s firepower is awesome. It will be a nice addition to our capabilities on New Colorado.”

  * * * * *

  The Battle Support Cruiser P. Paulson beamed into orbit over the New Gobi Desert. Against million-to-one odds, it smashed into an antennae tower atop the T. Roosevelt as it appeared in orbit. The near disaster was unsettling for both crews.

  “Who the hell is piloting that thing?” radioed the commander of the T. Roosevelt. “Are you drunk? I should come onboard and punch you out!”

  “Punch me?” asked Captain G. Hawn, commander of the P. Paulson. “Go ahead and try! I don’t see what you are complaining about. Your ship is so old, it was about to fall apart anyway. I would be doing the fleet a service by crunching it up into a little ball and recycling it for beer cans. You are relieved. Go home! You are no longer needed.”

  “We’ll be back!”

  “Up yours!”

  * * * * *

  Captain G. Hawn called me to introduce himself, and for an update. “This is a shakedown cruise for us,” he advised. “Do you have anything we can use for target practice? We need to calibrate our weapons systems.”

  “Yes,” I said immediately. “There is an abandoned castle on a hill just north of Scorpion City. It’s an eye sore. Please flatten it.”

  “I see it!” said Captain Hawn. “Bombs away! Scratch one castle!”

  “Try not to hit the condominiums next to it,” I advised. “I don’t want any bad press on your first day in orbit around New Colorado.”

  “Now you tell me!”

  * * * * *

  One day after buffalo hunting season ended, someone placed a bomb underneath Lieutenant Perkins’ car. The explosion knocked the vehicle onto its side. In retaliation, peacekeepers raided the new Scorpion City Elks Lodge. They found nothing, so we arrested one of the Exalted Rulers. I figured he must be guilty of something, or he wouldn’t be Exalted. Fighting terrorism is an ongoing never-ending process.

  * * * * *

  A skinny weasel-looking spider approached me as I left Legion Headquarters. “Major Czerinski?” he asked, opening a brief case. “I have something for you.”

  “Oh?” I asked. “I don’t want any.”

  Sergeant Green immediately flanked the spider, in case he pulled a weapon. Sergeant Wayne stood behind. The little spider handed me a sheet of paper.

  “You are hereby served and given formal notice of a civil lawsuit filed in Scorpion City Superior Court by plaintiff Mountain Storm against you for the willful and unlawful destruction of his castle domicile and extensive personal property within. Actual damages sought are $3,439,286.41 plus and indeterminate amount for punitive damages and emotional distress.”

  “His castle is across the border,” I said. “
Scorpion City Superior Court lacks jurisdiction.” “I am just a process server,” said the spider. “Hire a lawyer if you want to argue an opinion.” “Arrest him!” I ordered. “Throw him in the dungeon with that fool from the Elks!” “You can’t arrest process servers just because you think the lawsuit is unfair,” advised Sergeant Green. “That is like shooting the messenger.”

  “That’s a great idea!” I replied, drawing my pistol. Sergeant Wayne knocked it out of my hand from behind. “Sorry sir,” said Sergeant Wayne. “It is no longer legal to shoot process servers. They passed a law about that.” “This is a spider conspiracy!” I fumed. “This lawsuit is harassment. Arrest that weasel for being ugly out of season!” “The legislature did away with that one too,” said Sergeant Wayne. “Too many of us qualified.” “Let’s go down to the Deadly Stinger Tavern,” suggested Sergeant Green. “In a few hours this will all just be a blurred memory.” “Fine!” I agreed, giving the matter some serious thought. “Did I just lose it? Next time just tell me I’m losing it. I can handle it.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Sergeant Green. “You have done the same for me. Don’t worry about that summons. Legionnaires and peacekeepers can’t be sued. Everyone knows that. It’s the law.”

  * * * * *

  On election day, a long column of freshly painted blue armored cars lined up at the main Scorpion City border checkpoint. I handed the spider duty officer in charge my clipboard of travel permits signed by the spider commander.

  “Those blue armored cars are very pretty,” commented the spider duty officer, as he reviewed the paperwork. All was in order. “I see the holiday season is upon us once again.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Happy Hanukkah.”

  Returning my clipboard, the duty officer gave me a crisp salute and waved us through. “Happy Hanukkah!” he shouted, enthusiastically. “That blue rules!”

  The column dispersed throughout the spider side of Scorpion Valley to preset GPS coordinates marking the polling stations. Spiders waved and yelled Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah as we drove by. Occasionally a sniper’s bullet pinged off the armor. Spiders rushed to the newly rebuilt Walgreens Super Store to buy Christmas lights and presents. Spiders are crazy about holidays. Any excuse to take a day off and celebrate is good enough for them, even if it is a silly human pestilence holiday nobody understands.

  This time the election was fairly supervised by the Legion peacekeepers, with a vastly different result from the first election. The vote count reflected the true sentiment of the spider electorate. Of about a half million votes cast, Dragon King received 703,091 votes to Mountain Storm’s mere 318,102. It was a landslide victory for Dragon King, and a true test of the future of democracy and reform within the Arthropodan Empire. The Emperor quickly certified the election results. Mission accomplished!

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  Chapter 14

  “Congratulations on a peaceful outcome to the spider elections,” commented General Daly over the phone at next report. “Have you killed Mountain Storm yet?”

  “He won’t come out of his spider hole,” I answered. “Captain Hawn assures me he can take out the whole hill, but it would destroy about a thousand condos, too. That would not be good.”

  “I have received complaints you arrested the Grand Wizard of the Scorpion Elks. Is that true? I’m getting emails from Elks all over the galaxy. You would be surprised how many members of Congress are Elks.”

  “I arrested an Exalted Ruler,” I replied. “He’s not even mid-level management.” “Let the Elk go,” ordered General Daly. “We finally get some good press about the election, and you go arrest the Grand Wizard!” “Exalted Ruler,” I corrected, again. “He conspired with terrorists to allow tunnels under the Elks Lodge.” “There is no law against digging tunnels,” insisted General Daly. “We are talking about bugs. Aren’t they all compulsive diggers? Spiders and scorpions are just like ants. They tunnel everywhere. It probably looks like a giant Swiss cheese under Scorpion City. Right?”

  “Yes, sir.” “Then let him go,” repeated General Daly. “But he let Secret-Sting and other terrorists use the tunnel under the Lodge,” I argued. “The terrorists probably coerced him,” replied General Daly. “Unless you can prove otherwise, you let him go. That’s basic police work. Do you have any kind of confession?”

  “I am not a cop!” I replied.

  “You represent the USGF in your actions and your every move,” lectured General Daly. “Keep that in mind when you make arrests. Remember who you are every time you get drunk at the Deadly Stinger Tavern. You are supposed to set an example!”

  General Daly disconnected. I went downstairs to the dungeon to talk the Grand Wizard, Exalted Ruler, whatever he was. “When am I going to be fed?” asked the Exalted Ruler. “Why do we keep forgetting to feed our prisoners?” I shouted. No one answered. We were alone. “You do not have a jailer,” complained the Exalted Ruler. “If you assigned someone to work your jail, the job would get done properly.”

  “No one wants to work down here. The bats creep-out Sergeant Green. He says God sends bats to torment him. I think he’s just afraid of the dark.”

  “When do I get released?” asked the Exalted Ruler.

  “I have ordered that you be shot by a firing squad at dawn,” I replied. “You conspired with terrorists, and so I wash my hands of you for good.”

  “But all I did was look the other way about the tunnel,” argued the Exalted Ruler. “What else could I do? They have guns.” “Where are Secret-Sting and Quick-Sting hiding?” I asked. “I cannot tell you that,” answered the Exalted Ruler. “I have the safety of my family to think about.” “Then you have no one to blame for your fate but yourself,” I said. “I have no sympathy for you. You have until dawn to change your mind and give them up.”

  “I don’t know where they hide!”

  “Until dawn!”

  * * * * *

  The cell wall blurred as a black-robed shadowy figure emerged and put his razor sharp scythe to the Exalted Ruler’s throat. He had been listening with great interest to the earlier conversation.

  “I know Czerinski very well. I have followed him across the galaxy. He will kill you whether or not you talk. Your soul will soon be mine forever!”

  “What are you?” asked the Exalted Ruler, terrified. “Help!”

  “I am Thanatos, and you are not,” replied the Grim Reaper, pressing the scythe up against the scorpion’s chin. “Silence fool! Dawn and your death will come soon.” The Grim Reaper faded back into the dark of the dungeon walls.

  “Help, help! Let me out of here! There is a monster down here! Let me out! I will talk! I will tell you everything! Secret-Sting has a secret tunnel passage near the Lodge! Please! Czerinski. Do not leave me alone down here! I will tell you everything!”

  The Grim Reaper ran down the dungeon hallway laughing. At a door marked ‘Armory’ Thanatos effortlessly passed through solid iron. Inside, he found what he wanted. The Grim Reaper passed his white skeletal hand over the cold metallic surface of the twenty Arthropodan tactical nukes, savoring the touch of each. One nuke came to life with a beep. Its control panel glowed red. Instant understanding came to the Grim Reaper, and he smiled. He set the timer for twenty-four hours and pressed START.

  * * * * *

  Master Sergeant Green’s duties included checking the armory once at the end of every day. The room was dark as he peered in the small grilled window. A red light flickered off the walls from one of the bombs’ control panels. Sergeant Green unlocked the door to check closer. The panel was counting down! He pressed STOP, CLEAR, and LOCK. The red display went black.

  “What the hell happened here?” asked Sergeant Green, to no one in particular. He checked the other nukes to make sure they were locked into SAFE mode. “This isn’t supposed to happen!”

  Movement caught his eye from a dark corner. Sergeant Green quickly turned, his pistol drawn. It was a bat! “There is no one down here but me,” said
Sergeant Green to himself. “There can’t be. Just bats. I hate bats!”

  “I have finally found you legionnaire!” shouted the Grim Reaper, laughing from far off down the hallways of the dungeon. “I will have your souls!”

  Sergeant Green locked the armory door and ran. He would review the surveillance camera recordings later. “This time I will trap and kill you,” promised Sergeant Green.

  * * * * *

  Sergeant Green forced me to review the surveillance camera recordings for the dungeon tunnels. The man was seeing ghosts again. It was noted in Green’s medical file that he sometimes hallucinated. I had covered for him before, and I would cover for my friend again. He would do the same for me. There was nothing on the video recordings. The camera images seemed out of focus at times, but the lighting is poor down there. After all, it is a dungeon. I put guards on the armory door because Sergeant Green was convinced someone had tampered with one of the nukes. He was paranoid – but so was I.

  The scorpion Exalted Ruler Elk seemed very happy to see us. I forgot his dinner last night, but I brought him breakfast. After all his complaining, the Exalted Ruler was not even hungry. He just wanted out, and was willing to lead me to Secret-Sting’s hideout. I mobilized the entire battalion for deployment to the Elks Lodge, where we would go back into the tunnels to flush out terrorists.