“How Big is the Tenth Fleet?” asked #14.
“Real big. Bigger than I even know. And the carriers are loaded with fighters – stealth fighters – that can swoop down on our enemies undetected by radar. You won’t know what hit you until the shock and awe lights up your world.” I then started singing an old Legion song from antiquity, “I’m Libyian, on a jet plane. Don’t know when I’ll be back again. Battle group, JFK is gonna blow my ass away...”
“I order you to give him more medication,” said #14, turning to the doctor. “Something is going wrong here.”
“No! I have already given him the maximum amount I dare,” the doctor objected. “Just keep your questions simple so he cannot give rambling indirect responses.”
“Have you ever had sex with your mother?” asked #14.
“No, of course not,” I answered.
“Have you ever had sex with goats?” pressed #14, obviously disappointed by my first answer.
“No.”
“Have you ever even thought about having sex with your mother?” asked #14.
“Maybe, just once,” I answered.
“I knew it! These humans are perverts! You should all be exterminated,” yelled #14, more excited than ever. “I will exterminate every last one of you!”
“Focus, sir,” suggested the doctor. “Just ask pertinent military questions.”
“Tell me about battleships and super dreadnaughts,” demanded #14, sounded irritated at the doctor’s advice.
“They fire cruise missiles and drop bombs the size of Volkswagens,” I answered.
“Are Volkswagens big?” asked #14, concerned.
“Bigger than anything a bug like you could drive,” I answered. Then a bad thought came to me. The nuke! I started thrashing back and forth. “Where is my backpack?”
“What? It is safe in evidence, stored down below,” answered #14. “Doctor, what’s wrong with him? Is he having a reaction to the drugs?”
“Maybe, but it will pass,” said the doctor.
“It’s in this building?” I asked. I tried to chew through one of the wrist restraints but couldn’t reach it. “I need to get to my backpack now. Please!”
“Calm down,” said #14, returning to his list of prepared questions. “Tell me about the captured star chart that was presented at trial. Is this star chart an accurate depiction of United States Galactic Federation assets?”
“The star chart is Star Wars #29,” I replied. “It is a poster.”
“But is it accurate?” asked #14, again.
“It’s a game It’s all a game! You will lose!” I yelled, in pain again. “The Evil Empire will fall!”
“Never!” shouted #14, slapping my face. The doctor pulled #14 back and restrained him. “The human pestilence will never prevail!” #14 insisted.
“Down with Darth Vader! The Force is with us!” I yelled. Suddenly an explosion rocked the very core of the underground facility. Concrete chunks fell from the ceiling, and I was knocked off the table.
“What was that?” demanded #14. “Is it your stealth fighters? Is it the Tenth Fleet?”
“My backpack!” I yelled in panic.
“It is the American Tenth Fleet!” screamed the doctor as he ran from the room. “We must get out of here!”
“How can we fight an enemy we can’t see?” asked #14, dazed from being knocked down and covered with debris.
“You can’t,” I answered.
Then the lights went out. Guards with flashlights entered the infirmary and carted me off to my cell, throwing me onto the floor. I felt ill. I was battered and bruised and still naked. I was cold, but still alive. The good news was that I no longer had to worry about being killed by the nuke in my backpack.
* * * * *
My cell door swung open and the guard announced I had a visitor. It was my attorney, and he was carrying a crisp new Legion uniform, boots, human food, and some letters from home. I could have cried.
“A most interesting turn of events on several fronts,” announced #2 as he set up his chair, table, and notes from his briefcase.
I was shaking, I was so happy to see him and to finally get clothes.
“I trust you are in good health?”
“Good as can be expected,” I said. “Did I win my appeal?”
“Yes. The case was dismissed on appeal, pending re-filing by the prosecution. It seems all existing evidence, documents, transcripts, video camera recordings, computer downloads, and stored body parts were destroyed by a nuclear explosion originating in the evidence room directly under the Court. Even the Judge got nuked. The matter is being investigated, but in the meantime your case has been dismissed on appeal for lack of reviewable evidence for the Appellate Court.”
“Dismissed?” I asked, as I opened letters from my parents. “I can go home?”
“Not yet. Technically you are still a prisoner of war. But soon, I think, you will be released,” assured #2. “Oh, I took the liberty to read your letters for you. State Security checked them already, so I did not think you would mind. Your parents love you. And they are a lot younger now because you sent them a Fountain of Youth chip. Just a side issue, but I would like to get one of those chips for myself. Do you think they would work on me? Anyway, your mother is running for the Senate from Arizona. There is talk of your father running for the Presidency of the United States Galactic Federation on a platform that you should have been released a long time ago. There is even talk of impeachment because the President tried to leave you in our custody in exchange for a peace treaty. You are now something of a celebrity back on Earth. Everyone saw you naked at your trial. The human public is outraged and demanding continued war if you are not released soon. I am told there are long lines of females who want to have your babies. Most interesting. Even the public here on Arthropoda is outraged that our leaders started an ill-advised war against such a giant as the United States Galactic Federation. There has been some rioting in our streets and the General Staff has confined all troops to their barracks, pending the formation of a new government. The Emperor has not been seen in public for days, and there are rumors that he is either dead or under house arrest. There are also rumors that the General Staff is negotiating a surrender.”
“Your surrender?” I asked.
“Yes. It is rumored the General Staff wants things settled before the Tenth Fleet arrives,” added #2.
“Don’t worry, it will be a while,” I said.
“Do you think the Federation will impose harsh conditions if we surrender?” asked #2.
“Not really,” I answered. “Oh, we might hang a few spiders. We might change your form of government to be more representative. Power to the people and all that. And, we will can the Emperor.”
“I think we could live with that,” said #2. “I will pass that information on.”
“After I’m released, I may still need your services,” I said. “Do you know anything about business law?”
“I am expensive. Which reminds me. Most of that one-million-credit judgment is gone because of my percentage and expenses. It costs a lot to be flying back and forth and having investigators gathering documentation between here and the moon and New Colorado,” explained #2. “What possible need do you have for a business lawyer?”
“It figures you took most of my money. Lawyers are the same on both our worlds. Anyway, I’m not worried about that. What I want to do is set up an import/export business here on Arthropoda. I need a business partner who can take care of all the local permits, licenses, payoffs, whatever.”
“And what would you import and export?” asked #2.
“I have a lot of ideas on that. To start with, Vodka, tobacco, coffee, and donuts I know would sell big-time. Do you have any casinos on Arthropoda? No? You will. I will see to that. How hard would it be to get Martian pot through customs? The business opportunities are endless, and our future looks bright,” I added.
CHAPTER 14
I slept through breakfast. At lunch time no
one showed up. I looked through the cell door window. No spider guards could be seen. I yelled. No answer. I pounded and kicked the door. No response. By afternoon I could hear gunshots and explosions. Finally came the sound of boots in the hallway. A human voice called out, “We are Americans. Somos norteamericanos. Stand away from the door. We are setting a charge. Vuelva!” I scrambled to cover myself with a mattress as an explosion blew open the cell door.
Colonel McGee and Lopez – apparently promoted to lieutenant – entered through the dust and smoke. Colonel McGee tossed me a set of silver captain’s bars. “Your vacation is over, Czerinski,” said Colonel McGee. “We have a lot of spider ass to kick.”
“The war is over,” I responded. “I’m tired. I quit. Invite someone else to the party.”
“You are in charge of Bravo Company. The whole First Division is securing strategic points inside and around the spider capital. You will secure Capital Square, the Imperial Palace, and the Emperor. When we hold the advantage, more face-to-face negotiations will continue,” added Colonel McGee.
“Good to see you,” said Lieutenant Lopez, shaking my remaining hand. “I thought for sure the spiders would barbeque you on a spit and eat you for dinner.”
“He would taste bad, like polish sausage,” added Sergeant Green.
“Don’t POW’s get time off to recover,” I asked the Colonel. “I’ve been through hell.”
“You can rest when the Tenth Fleet gets here,” said Colonel McGee, sarcastically. “First Division is all there is to secure the whole planet. The spiders formally surrendered, but not all the spiders have stopped shooting.”
“But there is no Tenth Fleet,” I pointed out.
“Exactly our problem,” said Colonel McGee. “That is why we must quickly secure the capital, capture the Emperor, and disarm the rest of the spiders before they wise up and change their mind about surrender.”
I followed Colonel McGee upstairs into the sunlight. Armored cars waited. My old platoon gathered around, shaking my hand and giving salutes. We all climbed into the armored cars and raced to the center of Arthropoda’s Capital City.
Spider regular army troops were confined to their barracks under threat of nuclear bombardment from the Tenth Fleet and Weapons Platform T. Roosevelt. Intelligentsia and State Security troops were still armed and showing themselves in public. Spider civilians swore at us and threw rocks as the convoy sped by. Some spiders waived. An occasional bullet pinged off our armor. We did not stop at red lights, causing several unlucky civilian vehicles to be crunched along the way.
At Capital Square, Intelligentsia and Security soldiers were deployed at the intersections and atop the steps to the Imperial Palace. We smashed through the barricades and deployed around the palace. A spider officer dressed in a black Intelligentsia uniform confronted us over a public address system that apparently had been fitted with a translator device just for our benefit. But we didn’t need that anymore. In my absence, the Legion had retrofitted all military helmet cameras with back-engineered mini-translators so we could understand the screeching and hissing the spiders used to communicate their language. I had no trouble understanding the Nazi-looking spider officer when he announced, “You may not enter the Imperial Residence. Negotiations are ongoing as to the future status of the Emperor. Back away to a respectful distance.”
“The Emperor will surrender now, or you will be nuked,” I yelled back.
“You would not dare nuke the Imperial Palace during ongoing negotiations,” said the spider officer. “You had better consult your superiors.”
I looked to my rear. The spiders were repairing the barricades. More spider soldiers were arriving by truck. The spider officer atop the palace steps confidently stood in front of his troops. I radioed to the T. Roosevelt that I wanted the spiders at the intersections bombed. Now! I then ordered the machine gunners atop my armored cars to open fire on the Imperial Palace. The spider officer went down first, followed by his guards. Five hundred-pound bombs dropped from space, hitting the spiders massing at the barricades. The massacre was swift and complete. Bravo Company stormed the Imperial Palace steps with a fixed bayonet charge. It was a beautiful sight, recorded by our helmet video cameras for the TV news back home. As we burst inside the palace, we found ourselves in a large public reception area. The company was met by a butler. We stopped.
“Whom may I say is calling on the Emperor?” asked the butler.
“The United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion,” yelled Sergeant Green. “Step aside, fool.”
“You will wipe your feet first,” insisted the butler. “These imported rugs are very expensive.”
“Let me kill him!” shouted Sergeant Green, as Lieutenant Lopez restrained him. Sergeant Green threw a large vase at the butler as Lieutenant Lopez pushed him back farther.
The rest of the company poured into the lobby area. I walked up to the large double doors of the Emperor’s private residence, wiped my feet, and entered. The Emperor was watching the news on TV. He was wearing a bath robe and two pairs of pink fuzzy slippers. Other important-looking spiders were gathered about the TV, too.
“Do you know how much that vase cost?” asked the Emperor. “The Queen is going to be really pissed off at you.”
“Are you the Emperor?” I asked. “You are under arrest. Handcuff him.”
A large spider in a green military uniform stood between me and the Emperor. “You may not dishonor His Majesty by handling him like a common criminal. We will all die before allowing such dishonor to befall our beloved Emperor.”
“Fine with me,” I said. I drew my sidearm.
“Captain Czerinski,” interrupted Corporal Kool. “Colonel McGee is on the radio. He says it’s important.”
“I’ll get back to you,” I warned, pointing my pistol. I took the radio microphone. “What?”
“I am delayed because the spiders are blowing up bridges along our route,” advised Colonel McGee. “Wait at Capital Square until I get there. Then we will take the Emperor into custody according to the surrender terms negotiated earlier.”
“I already smashed the barricades, shot my way into the palace, and arrested the Emperor,” I advised.
“You what? You were supposed to wait until the imbedded reporters and the negotiation team arrived,” screamed Colonel McGee.
“Do you want me to give the Imperial Palace back to the spiders?” I asked.
“Just keep the Emperor safely in custody until I get there,” ordered Colonel McGee, as he hung up.
I then turned my attention back to the Emperor. “You are under arrest. You are confined to your bedroom. Go there now. You may not communicate with anyone outside this building without my permission. Violate these terms and you will be shot. Is that clear?”
“You will speak respectfully to His Majesty,” said the big spider, pointing a claw at me.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I am the Emperor’s #1 military advisor,” boasted the big spider. “Who do you think you are?”
“You helped plan the invasion of New Colorado?” I asked.
“I am the chief architect of the invasion,” bragged the advisor. “I am the Commander of the General Staff.”
I drew my pistol and shot the spider twice in the head. Blood splattered all over the carpet as the big guy dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. I pointed my pistol at the next spider. “Who are you? What is your job?” I asked.
“I am the Director of Social and Health Services,” replied the nervous spider. “Please do not shoot.”
“Okay, you can go,” I said, disappointed. I pointed my gun at the spider to his left. This one wore the black uniform of the Intelligentsia and State Security. Ribbons and medals decorated his chest. “You! What is your position?”
“I am in charge of the Federal Library System,” answered the decorated spider.
“You don’t look like a librarian to me,” shouted Sergeant Green, prodding the spider officer with a bayonet. “He loo
ks like that that slimy #14, only higher ranking. See, he is dressed like a Nazi.”
“The Intelligentsia and State Security is in charge of all libraries and schools of higher learning,” insisted the spider officer. “I am a professor.”
I shot the professor, too. As I pointed my pistol at the next spider, Corporal Kool interrupted me again. “A message from Colonel McGee. More delays. He says members of the Emperor’s Cabinet and General Staff my also be at the Imperial Palace. They are to be detained, but treated with the respect afforded to officials of high rank. Negotiators will meet with them shortly.”
“I don’t think we were authorized to execute Cabinet members,” commented Lieutenant Lopez. “Oops.”
“These two are the reason I am in the Legion. They started this war,” I accused, pointing at the dead spiders. I holstered my sidearm. “Roll them into the carpet and get this mess out of here before McGee gets here.”
“Yes sir,” replied Lieutenant Lopez.
“Sergeant Green, tell the butler I am sorry about the carpet.”
“Yes sir,” replied Sergeant Green.
“The rest of you spiders listen up!” I yelled, now pacing. “There is a new sheriff in town. You know who I am. I’m mean as a junkyard dog. I brought a pack of mean junkyard dogs with me. You already know I eat babies for lunch. And I don’t like any of you. The mere sight of you upsets me. Do not give me any problems, or I will nuke your whole city and have the biggest spider barbeque ever. Corporal Ceausescu! Lock these spiders up!”
CHAPTER 15
Lieutenant William Norris, First Division, Third Battalion, United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion, shot down over New Colorado and reported MIA one day before the USGF counter attack, had been forgotten about. But now Lieutenant Norris was being released. The Arthropodan Empire had surrendered. The United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion had landed troops in Arthropoda’s Capital City #1 and was securing strategic points. A forced regime change was in progress.
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 1: Feeling Lucky Page 10
