“Huffman needs medical care,” insisted Guido. “Bring him back so the medics can check injuries.”
“Our doctors can patch that fool up with duct tape as easily as yours,” replied the spider commander, dismissively. “He will be fine when the pain stops. That anarchist will go to trial, after which I will personally execute him.”
“Duct tape doesn’t work on humans,” advised Guido. “We bleed much more than your species. He’ll die.”
“The fool should have thought of that before being so arrogant,” said the spider commander. “Who does he think he is, that he can assault me and get away with it?”
“He is a fool,” agreed Guido. “Release the fool. No one will think less of you for ignoring the ranting actions of a fool. No good comes of executing a fool.”
“I will think about it,” replied the spider commander, thoughtfully. “You better tell Pizza Hut and their Teamster cohorts they better start delivering on time. The regional governor is upset, and when he gets upset, I am upset. You tell them I want my pizza delivered hot. If I get cold, soggy, spit-upon pizza again, I will call for an air strike!”
* * * * *
Scorpion commandos from the Scorpion City National Guard slipped across the fence line and established an observation post overlooking the Arthropodan camp. Burrowing in just below the sand, the commandos were all but invisible. Patiently, they waited for orders to attack.
* * * * *
Air raid sirens sounded as an incoming bomb dropped from space toward Cemetery City. The warning only gave precious minutes to take cover. Launched by an Arthropodan Air Wing orbital space weapons delivery system, the precision-guided smart bomb hit its intended target. The resulting explosion destroyed several vehicles in the parking lot of the Cemetery City Pizza Hut.
“Let that be a warning!” advised the spider commander, on the phone again to the Pizza Hut manager. “I will not be trifled with!”
* * * * *
“They struck the Pizza Hut parking lot?” I asked, after receiving the initial reports. “What was the intended target?”
“Hard to say,” replied Sergeant Green. “The Teamsters Union Hall is about a block away. The spiders have been having problems with the Teamsters over that dump truck driver Huffman. Maybe the bomb missed. We can’t let them get away with bombing a populated area like that. A retaliatory strike is needed and justified.”
“I agree,” I said, “but first I want to talk to the spider commander face to face at the front gate. Set up a meeting. Order everyone to dig in or go underground.”
“We should strike tonight,” added Colonel Desert-Sting. “Payback should be swift and certain.” “Wait,” I replied. “First I want to find out what this is all about.” “I am a colonel,” said Desert-Sting. “You are just a major. Do not order me around.” “You are National Guard,” I sneered. “That is like being in Special-Ed. As long as I am the Military Commander of Cemetery City, you will follow my orders, or I will lock you up. Understand?”
“Yes, master,” replied Desert-Sting. “I understand fully that humanity has all the power in the USGF.”
“Good,” I said. “Because you are correct. And you know I’ll use that power if you step out of line. I don’t like scorpions, and I don’t like you.”
* * * * *
Guido was talking to the spider commander when I arrived at the front gate, quickly hiding his pad as I approached.
“Using strategic space weaponry against civilian targets is an unprovoked escalation of hostilities that will not be tolerated,” I said. “What’s this all about?”
“Unprovoked?” asked the spider commander. “Ha! I ordered pizzas for myself and my staff hours ago. Then I get a text message saying they still don’t deliver to scabs. When have I ever been a scab? Just because I use marines to deliver needed supplies? This is all about that human pestilence Huffman. The sooner I execute Huffman, the better!”
“You may not bomb Pizza Hut!” I said. “Bombing innocent civilians in the American Zone is war.” “American Zone?” asked the spider commander. “This whole valley belongs to the Empire.” “Not while I am standing on it,” I commented. “Don’t get your hair balls all in a twist,” advised the spider commander. “That bomb was just a warning shot. I doubt anyone was even hurt.”
“You got lucky on that one,” I said. “The blast destroyed several cars and knocked out windows blocks away.”
Our conversation was interrupted by explosions coming from the Arthropodan marine camp. The spider commander rushed back to his armored car radio to find out what had happened.
* * * * *
Scorpion commandos burrowed into the center of the spider camp, surfacing in a small yard contained by razor wire. Sleeping there in a tent was Jimmy Huffman. The commandos seized Huffman, dragging him through the tunnels to safety. Huffman’s injuries were still wrapped in duct tape. Along the way they set satchel charges timed to cover their escape. Several trucks and some fuel were destroyed in the explosions. The commandos were back to the American Zone before the spider marines knew what hit them.
When I got back to my command tent, Colonel Desert-Sting was already being interviewed by the news services. He was reviewing helmet camera images, describing the mission in detail. Shortly afterwards, Jimmy Huffman was presented for the cameras. Huffman was dirty and disheveled, but otherwise unhurt.
“I never thought I’d ever say this, but I appreciate you scorpions so much I could kiss you all,” exclaimed Jimmy Huffman, giving Colonel Desert-Sting a big hardy hug and kiss. “I love you, man.”
“Never kiss me again,” warned Colonel Desert-Sting, shoving Huffman away. Desert-Sting faced the camera. “At sunset, Scorpion City National Guard commandos tunneled into the spider marine camp and rescued Teamster Jimmy Huffman from certain execution. There were no National Guard casualties. Several explosive charges were set as a diversion, but spider casualties were minimal. Words alone cannot express adequately how proud I am of my brave young commandos. Once again the Scorpion City National Guard has stood up to the spider menace. Once again the Guard has proven itself in battle, best by test!”
“Where was the Legion during this bold rescue?” asked Phil Coen, of Channel Five World News Tonight. “Did you coordinate your attack with the Legion?”
“It is my understanding that Major Czerinski of the Legion was in conference with the spider commander during the attack,” commented Colonel Desert-Sting. “Our window of opportunity opened so suddenly, there was no time to notify the Legion.”
“Is that true?” asked Coen, seeing me enter the command tent. “Did the rescue occur while you were conducting negotiations with the spider commander? Is that going to cause a problem with the spiders?”
“I was discussing the earlier bombing of Pizza Hut,” I replied. “The spider commander and I only met briefly at the main checkpoint gate.”
“Were you in on the rescue planning?” asked Coen. “Was this a joint operation?”
“No,” I said, testily. “Colonel Desert-Sting rescued Huffman all on his own.”
“I sense a bit of a chip on your shoulder,” commented Coen. “Usually the Legion does not play second fiddle to the National Guard. I sense some inter-division rivalry. Are you jealous of the National Guard’s success? Shouldn’t the Legion and the Guard be working together to safeguard American interests and citizens?”
“Yes, we should,” I answered. “I congratulate Colonel Desert-Sting on a flawless mission.”
Teamsters business agent Carlos O’Neil pushed his way to Coen’s microphone. “On behalf of the International Intergalactic Brotherhood of Teamsters, I have nothing but praise for our brothers in the Scorpion City National Guard. Job well done!” O’Neil pressed a stuffed envelope into Desert-Sting’s claw, and gave the scorpion another hug. This time scorpion commandos intervened before any more kisses could be planted.
“Major Czerinski, have you been in communications with the spider commander since you last talked?�
�� asked Coen. “What sort of Arthropodan response do you expect? If the spider commander is watching this news broadcast, is there anything you would like to say to him?”
“I expect to be bombed at any second,” I replied. “Everyone needs to get underground as soon as possible. There are shelters in the Walmart parking lot across the street. Do not panic. Walk as fast as possible. Your lives will depend on it.”
Reporters and onlookers ran for the air raid shelters across the street. Minutes later my command tent was bombed from space. I escaped unharmed by fleeing deep into the Legion tunnel bunker system.
* * * * *
The spider commander, who had been watching Coen’s interview live, kicked over his TV monitor that sported the close-up image of a one-fingered salute.
“I’ll get you trespassers if it’s the last thing I do!” promised the spider commander, returning the one-fingered salute double.
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Chapter 8
I sent a squad of legionnaires to Pepper’s apartment. However, it was too late. Pepper was already gone. Private Wayne was heartbroken. We left him sitting alone in the dark, rocking back and forth.
* * * * *
Pepper carried Camacho’s brain imprint memorial under her claw, cautiously approaching the border fence. Motion detectors alerted the Scorpion City National Guard, who scrambled to the alarm zone. Guardsmen challenged Pepper as she cut her way through the wire.
“Halt!” ordered a scorpion national guardsman.
Pepper dropped Camacho, and tossed grenades at the scorpions to cover her escape. Spiders waiting on the Arthropodan side provided cover fire. When the dust and smoke cleared, Pepper was gone.
“What is that?” asked a scorpion Guardsman, shining his spotlight on the metallic memorial.
“Careful!” ordered a sergeant. “It might be a bomb!”
The guardsman scanned the human writing on the memorial. “It is just another human tombstone! It belongs to the Legion!” He pushed the illuminated activation button.
“Shit!” commented Camacho. “Now I’ve been abducted by scorpions.” “You have been rescued by the Scorpion City National Guard,” advised the sergeant. “You are dead.” “Do you think I don’t already know that?” asked Camacho. “I was killed by you damn scorpions during the riots. Leave me be!” “We just saved you from spider looters,” advised the sergeant. “You should be more appreciative.” “Screw you,” replied Camacho. “Do you think the Legion might offer a reward for this memorial’s safe return?” asked the guardsman. “He sounds high-tech. It must be valuable.”
“He’s just a private,” commented the sergeant, scanning the writing. “But we will take it back to camp and find out. Any reward will be split evenly among our platoon.”
* * * * *
USGF National Park Ranger Butler received an anonymous tip that members of the Scorpion City National Guard had been killing and eating Blue Lizards, an endangered species. Butler was determined to investigate the matter and prosecute the poachers to the fullest extent of the law. As a courtesy, he first contacted me.
“Reports are that scorpions are hunting and eating the endangered Blue Lizard,” advised Ranger Butler. “That is a federal offense.”
“The Blue Lizard is not an endangered species,” I said. “We grease our tires with the vermin. They’re everywhere. The plight of the Blue Lizard is nothing but an invention by the Legion to confuse the spiders.”
“I flew in on a shuttle to specifically avoid such risk to the Blue Lizard,” replied Ranger Butler. “Congress placed the Blue Lizard on the Endangered Species List. It is my job to protect the Blue Lizard and its habitat.”
“Aren’t you listening?” I asked. “The Blue Lizard is not endangered.”
“It is not for you or me to make that determination,” insisted Ranger Butler. “I am a law enforcement officer. I will enforce the law, and I expect the Legion to assist me when needed.”
“How did you get here?” I asked. “I put a sign up at the checkpoint that says, ‘No fools allowed.’ I guess some fool must have knocked it down again.”
“I told you, I flew in on the shuttle,” repeated Ranger Butler. “I need to put a sign up at the air strip, too.” “Direct me to the Scorpion City National Guard camp,” demanded Ranger Butler. “It is obvious I will get no cooperation from you.” “Small campfires can be seen from here,” I said, pointing to the hills. “Their fires light the north perimeter. Try not to antagonize the scorpions. Fools piss them off. If they’ll eat Blue Lizards, they’ll eat anything. That includes foolish rangers.”
* * * * *
Butler tromped off toward the campfires. He soon found Blue Lizard roasting on spits. It was dinner time.
“Danger! Danger! Intruder alert! It’s the cops! It’s the tree fuzz!” shouted Camacho. “You’re all busted! Good! It’s about time I was rescued!”
“Shut up,” ordered a scorpion sergeant as he adjusted the position of the roasting lizard. Then he stood to greet the visitor. “Who are you?”
“I am Park Ranger Butler. The Blue Lizard is on the Endangered Species List. You may not hunt or eat them.” “Oh?” asked the sergeant. “Says who?” “Says Congress!” advised Ranger Butler. “Show me ID. I intend to write you a citation.” “I do not carry ID,” replied the sergeant. “What is your name?” asked Ranger Butler, producing his citation pad. “Enlisted scorpion soldiers do not have names. Only show-off bandits and officers trying to kiss human ass use names. Do I look like an ass-kisser to you?”
Several other scorpions gathered around to listen. A private poked Butler’s vest with his stinger and warned, “You should leave. It is not safe for humans up here at night. It is not safe for anyone up here at night.”
“Is that a threat?” asked Ranger Butler. “It is a federal felony to threaten me.”
“If stupidity were against the law, you would be a felon serving life without parole,” advised the sergeant. “He is right. You need to leave.”
“Tell Major Czerinski I’m up here!” interrupted Camacho. “I am Private Hector Camacho of the USGF Foreign Legion! These scorpions abducted me! They’re a bunch of punks!”
“I’ll be back with the Legion,” threatened Butler. “I’ll be adding ‘resisting arrest’ and ‘theft of USGF property’ to your many poaching charges!”
“Whatever.”
* * * * *
“Those scorpions are a nest of vicious bandits!” charged Ranger Butler. “I demand those culprits be arrested! They’re openly flouting their disrespect for the law by roasting Blue Lizards for dinner.”
“If I throw a stick, will you go away?” I asked. “I should toss you in jail for your own protection, but we don’t have one.”
“How can a city this size function without a jail?” asked Ranger Butler. “Are you going to help me arrest those scorpions or not? They won’t even tell me their names.”
“No,” I replied. “You’re like a misdemeanor cop in a felony world. You won’t last long, and I won’t go down with you. Leave now. I don’t want to be anywhere near when your world comes crashing down on you.”
“You might be interested to know that the scorpions have stolen an imprint memorial,” advised Ranger Butler. “I talked to it. Says his name is Private Hector Camacho of the Legion.”
“That I am interested in,” I conceded. “I’ll send a squad to retrieve Camacho as soon as possible. Thank you for that information. However, you may not go up there and bother my scorpion allies again. They have a mission, and don’t need you pestering them. Go away.”
Fools never listen. Ranger Butler went back up the hill, determined to cite the scorpion commander for trafficking and conspiracy to poach endangered species. We never saw nor heard from him again. The good news is, we got Camacho back just in time for the basketball playoffs.
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Chapter 9
Due to construction delays, Taco Bell came to Cemetery City late. However, the grand opening still crea
ted quite a sensation. Always thinking ‘outside the burrito,’ Taco Bell’s new menu included Blue Lizard steak grilled taquitos, the double Blue Lizard steak grande, and volcano lizard tacos featuring a new molten hot Blue Lizard sauce that was so spicy, some consider it toxic.
The marinated grilled all-white authentic Blue Lizard meat became the rage among the Scorpion National Guard and scorpion laborers. Soon humanity dared to eat ‘outside the burrito,’ rushing to feast on the spicy Blue Lizards, too.
Consumer demand for Blue Lizard meat spread across New Colorado and the galaxy. By popular demand, Congress was forced to take the Blue Lizard off the Endangered Species List due to pressure from a hungry public, and the discovery that there were actually large populations of Blue Lizards after all.
Even the Arthropodan Emperor imported Blue Lizard Burritos for a royal dinner. He hated it. I hated the taste too, deciding Blue Lizard was an acquired taste. To me, it tasted like shit and gave me the runs. Hot going in, and hot going out.
* * * * *
General Daly called to give me good news. “Czerinski, I’m promoting you to Lieutenant Colonel. Commensurate with your new rank, I also assign to you new responsibility. Fix the mess that worthless Lopez caused. After all our efforts, we now find out there are no rare metals in Cemetery City? What kind of shit is that? The President himself is thoroughly pissed. Heads will roll, starting with Lopez. Did you know Lopez sold Breeze Mining stock for a huge profit just before it crashed?”
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