AMERICA’S GALACTIC FOREIGN LEGION
Book 11: Cemetery City
by
Walter Knight
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Chapter 1
I am Major Joey R. Czerinski, Hero of the Legion, Butcher of New Colorado, and garrison commander of United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion troops on the distant planet colony of New Colorado. My good friend and longtime business associate, Colonel Manny Lopez, made a special trip from Old Earth just to talk to me. Since promotion to a cushy Military Intelligence staff job, Lopez thinks he knows it all, but he's still a punk. I don't trust him.
“Geologists discovered huge deposits of rare metals in the Blue Rock Valley of the New Gobi Desert,” advised Lopez, tapping excitedly on a large map display with his pointer stick. “There are enough rare metal deposits at this site to supply the needs of the entire galaxy. That is in stark contrast to the current rare metals shortage we now suffer. Our technological advantage over the spiders is acutely threatened by these shortages. The Blue Rock Valley is literally the United States Galactic Federation’s savior.”
“You’ve discovered gold and silver?” I asked. “That’s great. Another gold rush will help colonization along the border. We need more humans to offset the spider immigration of New Colorado.”
“Czerinski, I am not talking about gold or silver,” explained Colonel Lopez. “I mean the elemental rare metals combined with other substances to create the alloys used in all our high-end technology for weapons, communications, and space travel. These metals go into everything we use, from batteries to computers to spaceship engines. Humanity wants and needs those rare metals. You are going to get them.”
“Sorry, but I am not a miner,” I protested. “I did not join the Foreign Legion to dig holes in the ground, or to babysit miners. The Legion can’t be everywhere. If you are having problems with bandits, a private security company can easily handle a few bandits.”
“You joined the Legion for money,” commented Lopez dismissively. “Our problem is ownership of the land where the deposits are located.”
“You want the Legion to jump someone’s claim?”
“There is a cloud on the title. The deposits are located fifty miles north of the border.”
“What? The site is in the Arthropodan Empire? There is no cloud on the title. The spiders own that land. End of discussion, unless you want to start another war. Is that what you want me to do – attack first?”
“The spiders do not know about the deposits,” explained Colonel Lopez. “Special Forces were inserted at Blue Rock with geologists this summer. Core samples were secretly drilled.”
“When the Emperor discovers you intend to steal his rare metals, he will be pissed,” I warned. “The spiders are real sensitive about trespassing. Territorial imperative is ingrained into their DNA. The Emperor will send a battalion of marines to defend Blue Rock Valley, even if it was worthless.”
“Not if we negotiate a border variance,” suggested Colonel Lopez. “If the spiders give up claim to Blue Rock Valley before they know its value, it’s ours forever.”
“I told you before, they won’t give up Blue Rock even if it is worthless. To spiders, trespassing is as serious as murder. You don’t tread on their land without causing a serious problem in the neighborhood.”
“Our lawyers and negotiators think we have a solution that will, at least initially, sooth the spiders’ sensibilities to the trespass issue,” insisted Colonel Lopez. “Border variances have been agreed upon before. There is plenty of precedent. For example, the spiders recognize the law of possession. If you establish possession, ownership is assumed. Look at New Memphis. New Memphis is an enclave of humanity deep inside spider territory.”
“New Memphis is all about casino gambling and secret bank accounts. There’s nothing in Blue Rock Valley to give us an excuse to establish ownership.”
“Not yet. All we need to do is move in and apply for a variance.”
“The only border variances I know of are those based on geological obstacles, such as mountain peaks and river bed changes,” I advised. “Do you want me to divert a river to alter the border?”
“Can you do that?” asked Colonel Lopez.
“No. There is no water in the Blue Rock Valley. We cannot just go in there and set up camp.”
“We can if we have a credible reason,” insisted Colonel Lopez. “An excuse so important, even the spiders will back off for fear of offending humanity’s national or cultural sensibilities.”
“In the Blue Rock Valley? Are you going to declare the Blue Lizard an endangered species?”
“I never thought of that,” replied Colonel Lopez, making a note on his pad. “Is there really a Blue Lizard? Never mind. I have a better idea. Military Intelligence has come up with the perfect pretense for occupying the Blue Rock Valley. I understand you own a chain of high-tech upscale cemeteries all across New Colorado.”
“So?” I answered, defensively. “It’s just another investment, of which I have many. So do you. Retirement is just around the corner.”
“You aren’t old enough to retire,” commented Colonel Lopez. “But there is a lot of money at stake in this project that could pad an early retirement, so at least listen to my plan. We want to establish a national cemetery at Blue Rock. Certain senators have already written a minor earmark into the budget to establish the Blue Rock National Cemetery. Even the President has signed off on the idea.”
“I can understand Military Intelligence coming up with such hair-brained stupidity, but how did you get Congress and the President to go along?” I shook my head. “Never mind. I can see it. They’re idiots, too. But still, you can’t just build a cemetery anywhere you want, especially on spider land.”
“We can if we sneak the coffins and bodies in,” advised Colonel Lopez, in a hushed conspiratorial tone. “That’s where you come in. Being a big cemetery mogul and all, you must have lots of extra bodies lying about that we can slip in right under the spiders’ noses. You have monuments, too. We can scatter monuments, bodies, and coffins all over Blue Rock, burying them in the sand dunes. The Legion will bring in archaeologists who will claim that Blue Rock is the site of a long-lost colonial cemetery from before the First War. The spiders already know about our sensibilities and rituals of tending to our dead. They won’t dare object when we send legionnaires to protect the cemetery. Once we establish ourselves, we negotiate for a border variance. The spiders will resist at first, but we will move in colonists, start mining, and build a Walmart and McDonald’s. Once it becomes clear to the spiders we are permanently established, the law of possession will take effect. Our lawyers will argue their legal system recognizes ‘possession’ as established law. We may need to pay a small amount in compensation, but it will be worth it. I’ll even bet those greedy spiders will readily accept our cash if they think we are just buying worthless alkali flats in the middle of nowhere. The spiders will laugh all the way to the bank about our desert cemetery, but the final laugh will be on them.”
“It might work. You were saying something earlier about money and my retirement plans? What is my cut?”
“How can you think of money when serious national security issues are in play? Czerinski, you are one mercenary son of a bitch.”
“I know, I disgust myself sometimes,” I conceded. “However, secrets are hard to keep, especially when a lot of money is involved. Legionnaires love to talk. How do you expect to keep this quiet long enough to establish ownership? The spiders are going to be upset when they find out. In fact, some humans are going to be upset when they discover we moved bodies from other cemeteries. My cemeteries do not have extra bodies just lying around. I run a respectable business.”
“Congress has authorized pa
yment to the Legion of five percent of profits commensurate with each legionnaire’s rank and involved risk,” relented Colonel Lopez. “Are you satisfied now?”
“Holding out on me, eh?” “We are partners, as always.” “Fine. Let’s do it. Let’s wake the dead and move them out!” “You really think we can pull this off?” asked Colonel Lopez, now having doubts. “Secrecy and timing will be everything.” “We will roll the dice,” I answered enthusiastically. “Planet New Colorado has been a lucky lady to us so far. What’s the worst that can happen? We get kicked out? Start another war? I’ve been kicked out of better real estate. You only die once – well, maybe twice,” I amended, thinking of some of my earlier mishaps. “Let’s get it over with.”
“You will be the Mayor of Cemetery City,” commented Colonel Lopez, crossing himself. “That is quite a heady responsibility.”
“Sir, no more dead jokes. It’s bad luck.”
* * * * *
AP News Report:
Colonel Lopez, spokesman for the USGF Foreign Legion in New Phoenix, announced the discovery of a huge colonial cemetery in the Blue Rock Valley. The lost cemetery, uncovered by shifting sand dunes, was long forgotten since the First Galactic War.
Because of looting by spider prospectors and bandits, a small Legion expeditionary force occupied the cemetery site during negotiations with Arthropodan territorial officials. The sacred burial site is located fifty miles north of the border, in a worthless region of the New Gobi Desert.
Except for its value as an important cultural Mecca for humanity’s first colonization attempt of New Colorado, the Blue Rock Valley is home only to the rare and endangered Blue Lizard. Hunted to near extinction in their natural migration habitat by spider poachers, the Blue Lizard is trying to make a comeback, aided by an information campaign from the National Forest Service.
Already, colonists are applying for and being granted colonial travel permits to visit Blue Rock to search for long lost relatives murdered during the first spider invasion, and to get a precious rare glimpse of the endangered Blue Lizard so endeared to the first colonists.
Major Czerinski, famed Hero of the Legion and commander of the expeditionary force guarding the sacred graves of victims of the spider invasion, advised, “There are too many grave sites to find and exhume them all. The Legion, as usual, will do its best under difficult physical and emotional circumstances. There will be no more looting by the spiders. I promise that. I hope a permanent memorial can be established here. When I close my eyes and listen to the wind, I can almost hear the cries of those lost souls thanking us for coming to their rescue. This is a very emotional and spiritual moment for my legionnaires, for humanity, and for all of New Colorado.”
Limited excavations at Blue Rock are already underway. The isolated site lies along the meandering Blue Rock River, a dry riverbed that used to mark the area’s border during early Frontier days.
* * * * *
“You say Major Czerinski is in charge of legionnaires trespassing at Blue Rock, on Imperial land?” asked the recently assigned spider commander. “I’ve heard of Czerinski – The Butcher of New Colorado, Joey the Toe – and I smell a rat. If Czerinski is involved, the human pestilence are up to something. It is our job to find out what. The governor is extremely upset about their blatant trespass, but does not want to cause another intergalactic incident. You know how volatile the human pestilence get about their burial rituals. There is no reasoning with them on the subject. The governor wants us to investigate this matter and report back to him before taking action.”
“Our geologists surveyed the Blue Rock Valley long ago for oil and gold,” commented the Military Intelligence officer. “They found nothing. Perhaps they missed something.”
“Maybe,” said the spider commander. “Find out! And what about this business, accusing us of poaching migrating Blue Lizards? Are they edible?”
“I suppose you could eat a Blue Lizard if you were desperate,” replied the Military Intelligence officer. “But they taste like shit. Our scouts report the Blue Lizards are everywhere. They are a nuisance. Our troops can’t help but to run them over in the roadway because there are so many. Already one vehicle slid into the ditch because the tires were greased with Blue Lizards.”
“What?” asked the spider commander, incredulously. “That is exactly the kind of intergalactic incident the Governor is concerned about. Order all troops to be careful and mindful not to harm any Blue Lizards until our scientists can investigate the lizards’ status on the Endangered Species List. Drivers are to keep their speeds low enough to avoid Blue Lizard fatalities. Any Blue Lizards that are run over are to be removed from the roadway and secretly buried in the bushes.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the Military Intelligence officer. “Satellite photos show the human pestilence are frantically digging holes everywhere, and that skeletal bones and coffins are stacked all about. Truck loads of new human pestilence are arriving every day for unknown reasons.”
“We will travel to Blue Rock to investigate this nonsense for ourselves,” announced the spider commander. “This outrageous trespass must end!”
* * * * *
The spider commander led a column of Arthropodan marine armored cars to a roadblock established by the Legion at the perimeter of Cemetery City. A sign above the guard shack manned by legionnaires warned, ‘Caution! Blue Lizard crossing. $1,000.00 fine for harming any endangered species.’ Corporal Guido Tonelli strode up to inspect the spider commander’s tires. His leashed monitor dragon, Spot, padded silently along. Using a small pen knife, Corporal Tonelli extracted a small lizard foot and claws from the tire tread.
“Look at what you have done!” accused Guido, holding up the small dried foot. “This is exactly the kind of reckless behavior that has put the Blue Lizard on the Endangered Species List. You monster!”
“Shut up you fool!” replied the spider commander. “Those stupid lizards are no more endangered than the fleas you human pestilence carry in your fur.”
“So you don’t buy any of that Blue Lizard bullshit on the news?” asked Guido. “I thought I had you on that one. Please don’t tell Czerinski, or I’ll be in big trouble.”
“I did not believe one bit,” said the spider commander. “In fact, I don’t believe anything you claim to be doing here. Take me to Major Czerinski at once! I assume from your press report that he is still in charge?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Guido, saluting. “Only one vehicle may enter at a time because of the danger of running over Blue Lizards. Sorry, sir, those are my orders.”
“Fine!” said the spider commander, as the gate arm lifted.
Guido drove his jeep past rows of coffins and legionnaires busily moving the coffins from one stack to another. They stopped at the command center tent. Spot jumped from the jeep, pouncing on a Blue Lizard, crunching noisily as he ate. Across from the command center tent was another sign, ‘Welcome to the future building site of Cemetery City’s new Walmart Super Store, home of all your one-stop shopping needs. Join Sam’s Club now to take advantage of special opening-day discounts.’
* * * * *
“Greetings commander,” I said, opening the reinforced framed tent door of my makeshift command center. The translucent tent material let in diffuse light but was fairly good at keeping out the heat. “Come on in. Please close the door after you so those damn Blue Lizards don’t sneak in. They’re a real pain in the ass.”
“What is this all about?” asked the spider commander. “Why are you trespassing on Imperial territory?”
“If you want, I will give you a tour of our new digs,” I offered. “It’s quite an archaeological discovery from the first colonial days before you spiders invaded New Colorado. You remember the invasion, when you originally trespassed on all of New Colorado, our property.”
“A treaty has settled all that!” replied the spider commander, dismissively. “We have established borders now, and you are trespassing. I demand an inspection of your so-called digs
as part of my investigation. I brought scientists with me who want to take DNA samples and conduct date testing from soil samples, coffins, and artifacts.”
“Impossible!” I argued. “You spiders have looted and desecrated our dead long enough! I have orders to keep you away from all artifacts. It’s bad enough you run over Blue Lizards in complete disregard to their status on the Endangered Species List. But now, you want to rummage through the coffins of the deceased? Not on my watch.”
“Your story about a lost cemetery is as full of shit as your Blue Lizard tale,” commented the spider commander. “There are Blue Lizards everywhere!”
“Yes, but there are two species of Blue Lizards,” I explained. “There is the everyday variety of long-tailed Blue Lizard. And then there is the rare and elusive short-tailed Blue Lizard. Scientists insist the two do not interbreed, but they do have some sort of social or symbiotic relationship.”
“You claim to be protecting a mutant lizard?” asked the spider commander. “Do you ever tell the truth about anything? Next you will be claiming snails need protection!”
“Are you questioning my credibility?” I challenged, feigning anger. “I always tell the truth.”
“You even lie about your lying!” accused the spider commander.
“No reason to get testy about it. I’m only following orders, just like you. The politicians will ultimately decide the fate of our sacred cemetery and the Blue Lizard. Would you like some iced tea?”
“Thank you,” said the spider commander, accepting a tall glass. He drank heartily. “I appreciate a drink in this worthless desert. Tea won’t grow on Arthropoda. Not enough water.”
“We still import our tea and coffee from Old Earth,” I commented. “The climate here is also wrong for tea cultivation.”
Cemetery City Page 1
