“Colonel Lopez!” exclaimed Guido, speaking on an intercom. “Congratulations on your promotion!”
“Corporal Tonelli?” asked Colonel Lopez. “What are you doing down here?”
“The Utah Jazz swept the Lakers,” explained Guido. “Czerinski got pissed and exiled me and Camacho to vault duty. It’s really dead down here.”
“Utah swept the Lakers?” commented Colonel Lopez. “Damn! Let me in!”
“I don’t think so,” advised Guido. “Do you think we have only one camera? I saw your spider friends, and have sounded an alarm.”
“Cancel that alarm at once!” ordered Colonel Lopez. “I can vouch for these spiders. They are members of the Arthropodan Mining Commission, here to take core samples, and to inspect for safety violations. This is a hard-hat area. Are you wearing your hard hat?”
“No,” answered Guido. “I left my Kevlar helmet up in my guard shack.”
“See!” accused Colonel Lopez. “Already we’ve found safety violations. I’ll bet there are infractions to be written everywhere! Put yourself down for one demerit.”
“What?” asked Guido. “Can’t we work something out on this demerit business? How long have we known each other? Where is the goodwill?”
“Rules are rules,” insisted Colonel Lopez.
“I know what this is about,” said Guido. “You’re still upset about the Jazz beating LA. Stand in line on that. Everyone is upset about the Jazz.”
“Let me in!”
“Sorry, sir,” said Guido. “Those spiders might be coercing you. Where is your gun? It appears you are still their prisoner. I am advising Czerinski of the situation.”
Pepper stepped out form the shadows and handed Colonel Lopez a pistol. “Hi, Guido,” she said, waving at the camera. “Did you say the Jazz swept the Lakers?”
“Nice to see you again, Pepper,” replied Guido. “Yes, it was ugly. Sorry about that. The Lakers just didn’t show up.”
“Sorry, you say?” asked Pepper. “You will be sorry! I went all in on the Lakers! It is a good thing you are on the other side of that door, because when I catch up with you, I am going to kick your sorry little Mafia ass!”
“There’s no such thing as the Mafia,” commented Guido, indignantly. “Your slurs are rude and unnecessary.”
“I’ll tear your greasy little head clean off your scrawny little neck, and shit down your throat!” threatened Pepper, becoming more enraged as she slammed a claw against the iron door.
Getting impatient, the Military Intelligence officer approached from around the corner. “Focus!” he ordered. “Who’s the Nazi?” asked Guido. “I’m definitely not letting that spider goon inside.” “Open this door immediately,” ordered the Military Intelligence officer. “In the name of the Emperor, I demand entry!” “You and your commandos may not invade our crypt,” advised Guido. “The Legion does not tolerate trespassing or your nefarious tomb-raiding activities. Have you no respect for the dead?”
“The whole of Blue Rock Valley belongs to the Empire!” replied the Military Intelligence officer, angrily. “It is you who trespasses. I am merely escorting geologists to your illegal mine to drill core samples.”
“I’ll tell that to Colonel Czerinski,” promised Guido. “I’m sure he will be impressed with your explanation.” “The oxygen level down here is perfect,” commented the Military Intelligence officer, again checking the sensor on his belt. “So?” replied Guido. “Do I care?” “I was told natural gas threatened the entire tunnel system,” advised the Military Intelligence officer. “Really?” asked Guido. “Maybe I should have brought my mask, but I left it upstairs with my helmet. Is that a safety violation, too?”
“Yes,” said Colonel Lopez. “There is no smoking, too!” “I’m still not letting those commandos in,” added Guido. “I promise the commandos will be on their best behavior and not shoot anyone,” said Lopez. “Good news, spiders. Colonel Czerinski has been conferring with your commander about this intrusion into the sanctity of our burial crypt,” announced Guido. “You are granted conditional entry. Don’t touch anything!”
With a loud click, the iron door opened. Colonel Lopez led the spiders past more coffins and mini vaults to the mine. A miner was operating excavation equipment when Colonel Lopez waved him to stop.
“Shut everything down,” ordered Colonel Lopez. “Your work day is over.”
“To hell it is,” replied the miner. “The Legion can’t just barge in here and order us to shut down in violation of our Collective Bargaining Agreement. I’ll be filing an unfair labor practices complaint if I don’t get paid.”
“We’re doing safety inspections,” advised Colonel Lopez. “Shut it all down and leave. Do it now!”
“We’re Teamsters,” advised the miner. “Nobody orders us around like that. If we start a shift, we get paid the full eight hours. Don’t think for one minute you can cheat us out of that money!”
Colonel Lopez drew his pistol and pointed it at the miner. “Leave now, or you will never have to worry about being paid again!”
“No problem at all, sir,” said the miner, jumping from the machine. “Anything the Legion wants is fine with me. It’s no skin off my nose if we start our weekend early. You all heard the legionnaire! Everyone out! It’s a three-day weekend, starting now!”
“Fascists!” someone called out.
* * * * *
As miners scrambled for the exits, I told Colonel Lopez to leave, too. “Do it fast,” I warned, via the radio transmitter in his gold eagle. “I’ve set explosives to go off in about ten minutes. The whole hillside is going to collapse on top of you when it blows.”
“They won’t let me go,” Colonel Lopez whispered.
“There is a secret tunnel behind plywood to your right,” I advised. “Throw yourself into that hole, and you will be able to slide all the way to safety.”
Colonel Lopez could see the plywood set innocently along the tunnel floor. He nonchalantly sauntered over to it, hoping to drop out of sight before being noticed.
“What are you doing?” asked the Military Intelligence officer, drawing his pistol. “Czerinski has set explosives,” replied Colonel Lopez, drawing his pistol, too. “We have to get out of here.” “Nonsense!” said the Military Intelligence officer. “How could you possibly know that?” “I just talked to Czerinski,” Lopez explained. “Step away from that hole or I will shoot,” warned the Military Intelligence officer. “Drop your gun!” “His gun is not loaded,” advised Pepper. “Did you really think I’d give this human pestilence a loaded weapon?” “We have to get out of here,” insisted Colonel Lopez, checking the slide on his pistol, then tossing it aside. Lopez handed Pepper his gold eagle transmitter/receiver. “That’s proof I just talked to Czerinski.”
Pepper examined the eagle, snapping off one of the wings. “Sir, he may be telling the truth. There appears to be electronics hidden in his insignia. It could very well be a communications device.”
“It’s just another human pestilence trick,” replied the Military Intelligence officer. “I will not allow Lopez to escape his appointment with a war crimes court and the executioner. He’s bluffing.”
The spider private that had shared the cell next to Colonel Lopez crept up behind the Military Intelligence officer and struck him on the head with a large rock. The Military Intelligence officer crumpled to the ground. Pepper aimed her assault rifle at the private, then at the other commandos.
“I hate fools,” she said. “Worse, I hate being led by fools. What are you waiting for? Jump down that hole. Move! This place is going to blow!”
Colonel Lopez jumped into the spider hole, followed by Pepper, the spider private, and several Arthropodan commandos. The slide took them down long narrow passages, winding like a scary amusement park ride. At the end, they plopped out into blinding sunlight.
“Welcome home, Lopez,” I said, as the mine exploded with a deep rumble that shook the ground. “You’re more trouble to rescue than you are worth!”
“Whatever,” replied Lopez. “It’s about time you broke me out! What took so long?”
Corporal Wayne greeted Pepper with a hug and kiss, taking possession of her assault rifle. “You are my prisoner, sweetie,” he announced.
“Do you promise to handcuff me?” she asked. “Do you promise to resist?” he responded. “Oh good grief, get a room!” I ordered. “There’s way too much fraternization with the enemy going on around here!”
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Chapter 13
“Sir, I do not want to stay here,” advised Private Camacho. “I want to be returned to my old graveyard in Scorpion City.”
“Why?” I asked. “All your buddies are still deployed in Cemetery City. Are you certain your decision isn’t being influenced by your computer program? I can modify your program.”
“Positive,” replied Camacho. “My Legion days ended when I died. Now I miss networking and interfacing with my new dead friends back at the old cemetery.”
“It just doesn’t seem right for you to leave us so soon,” I persisted. “I want you around, even if you did pick the Lakers to win it all. Is that what this is all about? Do you think I’m still mad at you about the Lakers being swept by the Jazz?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ll get over it eventually. Aren’t you happy with us?”
“I could have been buried alive when you blew up that worthless mine,” explained Camacho. “I’m not happy about you always putting me with Krueger on KP duty. But, that’s not the problem. The purpose of a brain imprint memorial is to help friends get over death. Mission accomplished. It’s now time to move on.”
“I heard Pepper wants to turn Camacho into scrap metal,” interrupted Sergeant Green. “I agree it’s time for Camacho’s dead-ass to hit the road before he gets whacked.”
“Okay fine,” I relented. “The Legion doesn’t have regular transports to Scorpion City from here. I can’t risk you hitching a ride with the Scorpion City National Guard. They might try to recycle you with the aluminum cans and garbage. I am mailing you by United Parcel Service special delivery, marked FRAGILE.”
“Sir, please do not write FRAGILE on my package,” pleaded Camacho. “UPS drivers will kick me for sport.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “They do that. Bastards! Fine. I will mail you in a plain brown wrapper.”
* * * * *
United States Galactic Federation Securities Exchange Commission Special Agent Morris Schapiro flew to Cemetery City to interview both me and Lopez as part of an ongoing insider trading investigation. I immediately arrested Schapiro on a charge of being an undesirable on New Colorado, pending the unfreezing of our various bank accounts and assets. We still had no jail or City Hall, so I was forced to chain Schapiro to the front bumper of my new armored car.
All construction was put on hold after the mine was officially declared worthless. After I accidently destroyed most of the Blue Rock National Cemetery in the mine explosion, there was no reason for workers to stay. They left in droves. Officially, the blast was blamed on a natural gas explosion and safety violations. The Legion prepared to leave, too. A Blue Lizard food wholesaler argued unsuccessfully that the Legion should stay to protect a valuable gourmet food resource. However, even the Blue Lizard gourmet fad began to fade. I packed my gear.
“Are you going somewhere?” asked Schapiro, as he watched me throw my duffle and gear into the armored car.
“That does not concern you,” I replied, curtly.
“Oh but it does,” advised Schapiro. “The U.S. Securities Exchange Commission will follow you to the ends of the galaxy. You are a menace to honest investors everywhere, and a threat to all financial institutions. Your malfeasance of public office and insider trading will not be tolerated. You have been using your position in the Legion for monetary gain for a long time.”
“I heard Lopez is getting a pardon,” I commented. “I want one, too.”
“Celebrity status has its advantages,” explained Schapiro. “You are yesterday’s news. Lopez is the public’s latest Hero of the Legion.”
“I’m a Hero of the Legion,” I protested. “I’m a hero of many battles.” “Not lately,” advised Shapiro. “Now you’re nothing but a hero of many bottles.” “Are you calling me a drunk?” “Yes.” “Would you like to wear a mask and goggles?” I asked. “Or I can just put a bag over your face.” “What?” asked Schapiro. “Why would I need face protection?” “Because if I don’t get my pardon, you are staying chained to the front bumper when we move out. At sixty miles per hour, desert bugs hit with the force of bullets, especially the grasshoppers.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” exclaimed Schapiro. “Is there no end to your felonious conduct?”
“No,” I answered. “You’re worse than the IRS, so don’t give me any more grief!”
* * * * *
Colonel Lopez got his Presidential Pardon. Rumor had it that Lopez was being seriously considered for promotion to brigadier. My pardon was still pending. Also pending was Schapiro’s release. Because Cemetery City was technically part of the Arthropodan Empire, I gave Schapiro to the spiders. They charged him with illegal immigration and trespassing. Both charges were very serious in the Empire. The spider commander agreed to hold Schapiro indefinitely, pending the Legion’s withdrawal from Blue Rock Valley. As a courtesy, I personally saw Colonel Lopez off at the air strip. I wished him good luck at his new assignment.
“You won’t be seeing me for a while,” announced Colonel Lopez. “I am being attached to the General Staff in Washington, DC. That means I am on a fast track for command. The next time we meet I’ll have stars on my collar.”
“How nice,” I replied. “Put in a few words about my pardon. I want the same deal you got.”
“Don’t worry,” said Colonel Lopez. “I will tell them all about you.”
“Great. When you get promoted to Supreme Commander of the Legion, or President for Life, remember all the little people who helped make it possible, and repeatedly rescued your sorry ass from aliens. People like me, who saved your life so many times.”
“I will remember each and every one of you,” promised Colonel Lopez, glancing about. “You will all get what you deserve.”
“I was afraid of that,” I said, shrugging. “You tell that shuttle pilot to fly real careful. After all you have been through, it would an ironic shame to crash on your way back home to Old Earth.”
I nodded to Corporals Wayne and Tonelli, and Private Knight, who were loading the last of Colonel Lopez’s luggage and gear. They saluted smartly. Colonel Lopez returned our salutes, and then frowned, his paranoid suspicious nature taking hold. Finally he turned away to board the shuttle.
Soon his spacecraft rocketed across the heavens toward the vacuum of space, and home. Abruptly, the shuttle veered downward at a sharp angle, obviously taking evasive action.
“That paranoid bastard thinks we might try to shoot him down with a SAM,” I commented incredulously. “You did that once before at Scorpion City,” advised Guido. “I don’t blame Lopez one bit.” “That was an accident,” I replied. “A board of inquiry cleared me of any wrongdoing.” “Lopez knows you would not dare use a SAM again,” commented Guido. “It would be too suspicious. I would just plant a bomb in his luggage.”
“Nerve agent on his seat would have been better,” advised Corporal Wayne. “That avoids messy collateral damage.”
“Mechanical problems with the jet propulsion system would be the least suspicious,” I concluded. “The explosion destroys all evidence.”
“Just send the Grim Reaper to take Lopez,” suggested Private Knight. “There is precedent in Book Nine.”
I made a mental note to send Private Knight to psychological counseling. He seemed to be getting worse with his delusional behavior. The man talked to himself, and I had been told that he’d confessed to hearing voices in his head. We watched the shuttle reach orbit. It still had not exploded or crashed. I sighed.
; “Were you joking about Lopez becoming El Presidente for Life?” asked Guido. “That is truly a scary thought.”
“No,” I answered. “The USGF is bigger than any one person. But, if anyone could someday seize power, Lopez could.”
“Lopez has always fancied himself as a modern-day conquistador,” advised Private Knight. “Just think of it! Book Twelve, The Wrath of Lopez! I like it. It has a certain quality ring to it!”
We all stared at Private Knight for a moment. Odd duck, that Knight. Always has been. “Lock him up!” I ordered. “Place Knight in a padded cell without a pen, so he can’t harm himself or others.”
“But Penumbra Publishing promised me a big advance bonus if I did at least two more books,” protested Private Knight. “I can’t stop now. Not after all this character development!”
“He’s right,” advised Guido. “Character development is important.”
“If Lopez is going to be President for Life, Knight needs to be locked up,” I insisted. “For the good of science fiction and the galaxy, throw away the key!”
“I will never stop writing!” insisted Knight. “America’s Galactic Foreign Legion rules! Resistance is futile!”
###
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~BONUS SHORT STORIES~
A Galactic Christmas Story
Arthropodan planetary defense radar systems confirmed what light diffraction sensors had detected days ago. A lone alien spaceship, probably of human design, was inbound from human pestilence space. The craft evaded pursuing space fleet and planetary fighter interceptors approaching the remote north polar region, emitting gold and silver tinsel chaff to avoid radar and missiles.
Cemetery City Page 11
