To #14 of Intelligentsia & State Security, a change at the top was long overdue. The Emperor and his Cabinet cronies were a bunch of out-of-touch old fools. It grated on #14, however, that the catalyst for change was the human pestilence. The humans promised to leave soon, but #14 had his doubts. We shall see. #14 had orders to release Lieutenant Norris to a Legion shuttle waiting at Capital Square.
“Lieutenant Norris, follow me,” #14 ordered upon entering the holding cell. “You are being released. A Legion shuttle will transport you to the Federation Super Dreadnaught T. Roosevelt of the Tenth Fleet. Don’t come back. You are not welcome on Arthropoda.”
“Fine with me,” said Lieutenant Norris, happily. “But I wouldn’t exactly call that rust bucket T. Roosevelt a super dreadnaught. Anyway, I’m glad to be leaving, no matter what my mode of transportation.”
“Perhaps I got the name wrong,” said #14, conversationally. “I’ve been studying everything American. You will be surprised to know that we now get American TV here on Arthropoda. What does T. Roosevelt mean?”
“The T. Roosevelt was named after a United States president from hundreds of years ago,” answered Lieutenant Norris, trying to remember his history. “The one who said talk softly but carry a big stick. But the ship is so old it has been converted to a simple troop transport and space weapons platform.”
“Oh? My mistake,” said #14, as they walked along with their escort of security police.
“It’s not in the Tenth Fleet, either,” Lieutenant Norris said, laughing.
“Are you sure?” asked #14.
“Quite. The last time I checked, the Tenth Fleet was floating off the coast of Libya fighting the insurgency in Tripoli,” answered Lieutenant Norris.
“I’m sorry I seemed unfriendly at first,” said #14. “I am interested in your culture. I am fascinated by the images on your American TV. I just don’t want your troops here. What is Star Wars #29?”
“Star Wars #29 was the best selling and most popular VR – virtual reality – game in the galaxy a couple years ago,” said Lieutenant Norris. “You are interested in human role-playing games?”
“Yes, most certainly,” lied #14. “And who is Darth Vader?”
“Darth Vader is the evil dude in the Star Wars game. He leads the Dark Side and the Evil Empire,” added Lieutenant, giving #14 a closer look. “Kind of reminds me of you with that black helmet and storm trooper gear you wear. Only thing missing is the black cape. You own a black cape?”
“Real males do not wear capes,” #14 snapped. “Have you ever had sex with goats?”
“What? Now see here,” said Lieutenant Norris. They stopped walking. “Am I being released or not?”
“Of course you are being released.” said #14. “If I offended you, it is perhaps a problem with the computer translation gear. What are Volkswagens?”
“A cheap car used for ground transportation in crowded cities. Originally developed by a old-European German company that coined the name. Mainly they’re used as cabs,” explained Lieutenant Norris.
“Nuclear submarines travel under water, don’t they?” asked #14.
“Of course,” said Lieutenant Norris. “They can stay under a whole year if they have to.”
“I’ve heard enough,” announced #14, turning to #85 of the security police escort. “Take this human pestilence back to his cell. He is to stay there until I say otherwise.”
* * * * *
When #14 reached Capital Square, he walked past the Legion checkpoints and barricades, up the Imperial Palace steps, and into the public reception area. I was sitting at a desk blocking entry to the Emperor’s private residence. Lieutenant Lopez and a squad of legionnaires lounged around the reception area, too.
“What are you doing here, Czerinski?” asked #14. “I thought you were put on a shuttle going up to the super dreadnaught T. Roosevelt.”
“Leave got cancelled,” I replied. I was not happy. “I guess that’s the price of being popular. What are you doing here without Lieutenant Norris? He should have been here hours ago.”
“I’m personally taking care of it,” answered #14. “His release was slowed down by red tape. You know how it is with bureaucracy sometimes.”
“Whatever. You better kick someone in the ass, or I will,” I warned.
“Don’t worry,” #14 assured. “I intend to kick ass soon. But first things first. I need to see the Emperor, in private.”
“Sorry, not without an appointment. And certainly not in private,” I added.
“Since when does a high ranking officer of the Intelligentsia & State Security need permission from the human pestilence to see our own Emperor?”
“Since you lost the war,” I answered. “So, don’t go away mad. Just go away.”
“If I were you, I would be more concerned about the crowds gathering just beyond your barricades,” warned #14, “instead of meddling in affairs of state that are beyond you.”
I looked out the window. A few noisy spiders taunting the troops. Civilians. No big deal. “I’m just following orders.”
“I need the Emperor’s signature authorizing the Legion to occupy our main planetary air defense base. The base commander will not stand down unless he gets written orders from the Emperor himself. This has all been worked out with your General Kalipetsis. Every second I waste here talking with you increases the risks of your precious T. Roosevelt being accidentally blasted out of orbit. Not that I really mind the prospect of that happening,” said #14, as he brushed by me with his state security police escort and entered the private residence of the Emperor. “It would look bad for you.” The door slammed behind them.
“Who put a claw up your ass, you humorless piece of fish bait,” I yelled.
* * * * *
The Emperor’s head butler immediately confronted #14. “The Emperor has not risen yet, and is still having his morning tea in bed,” explained the butler when #14 asked for an audience. “I’m afraid it is quite impossible to see the Emperor this early in the morning. The Emperor has given standing orders never to disturb him this early.”
“Arrest this fool,” #14 ordered, as the hapless butler was carried away. The new head butler immediately led #14 into the Emperor’s bedroom.
The Emperor, propped up with large pillows, looked up from his tray of tea cups and accessories, and frowned. “Just because the human pestilence has occupied our capital does not mean that all civility has ended,” the Emperor admonished. “Who do you think you are, barging in here at this hour?”
“I’m the only officer on the planet who still commands troops willing to take action,” answered #14. “All the regular army wants to do is sit on their fat and lazy asses in the barracks watching American TV and getting wild ideas about democracy. Only the Intelligentsia & State Security and some elements of the Air Wing & Space Service are willing to oppose the human pestilence.”
“What can we do?” asked the Emperor. “The humans won the war. They have nukes in orbit. They have ordered me to abdicate or face a war crimes trial. They have created a legislature of greedy traitors that plans to elect that Defense Attorney #2 as Prime Minister.”
“We did not lose the war. We won the war. There is no Tenth Fleet. It was a bluff. The human pestilence have nothing between here and Earth to stop us. We wrecked their only fleets, and when our fleets are rebuilt, the human pestilence can easily be crushed,” announced #14. “Get out your notepad. There are orders that need to be sent out. First, consolidate what is left of our fleets around Arthropoda and put them on full alert. Announce there is no Tenth Fleet. Issue Imperial warrants of arrest for all members of the General Staff, the Cabinet, and the new Legislature. Dismiss the Director of the Intelligentsia & State Security and replace him with me. Order the abolishment to the caste system. Order that from this time on, all jobs, advancement, and social status will be determined by merit, not caste. Order the army out of its barracks. The army is to secure Capital Square and patrol the streets of the capital. Any rioter
s or looters are to be shot on sight. Martial law is declared, curfew established, and all assembly by civilians of four or more is banned.”
“I do not have to abdicate after all?” asked the Emperor, as he cheerfully sent out the electronic messages requested.
#14 watched the Emperor finish sending the orders. When completed, #14 took a pillow and smothered the life of the old spider. He turned to his trusted aide, #15. “It is done. Place the rest of the house servants under arrest and take them away. We still have a lot of work to do.”
#14 and his security police left. #15 stayed behind, posting guards and locking doors to make sure the humans didn’t discover the Emperor had been murdered. Then he paid Captain Czerinski a visit.
* * * * *
“Captain Czerinski, you are such a young man to have been through so much. You have been such a maker of history. But you do not appear to be any older than your youngest private.”
“So? Get out of here,” I replied. “Shouldn’t you be following your master around with your nose up his ass?”
“Your file says you are 53 years old. But you appear to be no older than 18 or 19. How do you explain that?” asked #15.
“It’s top secret,” I answered.
“Letters from your parents I read while you were in custody said something about a Fountain of Youth chip. And, your lawyer confirmed to me that you have an imbedded chip that reverses the aging process. Your lawyer is very interested in acquiring that technology, and frankly I am also,” said #15.
“Whether you are the Emperor or a grunt legionnaire, everyone dances with the Grim Reaper,” I said. “You can’t cheat death.”
“I was dismayed to find after researching the matter that the technology was recently declared illegal on Earth.”
“It is illegal on most of Earth,” I corrected. “But it’s still available if you are well connected or from the Kingdom of California.”
“How did you acquire the technology?” asked #15.
“I bought it,” I answered.
“Can you arrange for me to buy a chip and get the procedure done, too?” asked #15. “I’m moving up in the world and can pay you very well.”
“Impossible. Maybe someday I could get a hold of more chips if the truce holds and we’re not at war. During peace time we might even establish free trade between Earth and Arthropoda. But not now. And don’t you even think about cutting off my arm. That won’t work,” I warned. I shivered at the thought of losing my arm. I still was not used to my new metal hand.
“I see. Free trade? An interesting concept, but not likely,” said #15. “I think we will be at war again, soon.”
“You know something I don’t?” I asked.
“Yes. My boss just found out the Tenth Fleet is floating in the Mediterranean Sea, spying on Libyans.”
“We have weapon platforms loaded with nukes in orbit around Arthropoda,” I threatened.
“It will not be enough,” replied #15.
CHAPTER 16
At first it was just a few bored juveniles throwing rocks. School had been dismissed and juveniles were loitering everywhere. When there was no police or military response, a few more store front windows were broken. Crowds gathered. Several small fires drew even more crowds. A human armored car drove by, but they did nothing. Looting began as the crowd surged through the smashed doors and windows in the business districts. A riot had started.
The neighborhoods of Arthropoda weren’t happy. The power went out when electrical workers walked off the job to protest the General Staff’s handling of the war. Prices went up because everyone was hoarding supplies. Light brown spiders didn’t like dark brown spiders. Green spiders of the merchant caste seemed to have all the money and food, and they weren’t sharing. The caste system, which kept everyone in their place, was especially hated by the youth. Young spiders found it stifling to require that a son be a factory worker merely because his father was a factory worker. There was no hope for betterment based on merit. And Arthropoda’s entrenched leadership would not even discuss change.
The neighborhoods, already upset about losing the war, now saw troops of the human pestilence speeding through the capital. Humans at Capital Square were holding the Emperor hostage. There were even rumors the Emperor and his Cabinet had been eaten and babies were being snatched off the street to satisfy the humans’ palates. Maybe the Emperor had caused this mess and needed to be replaced. Maybe not. But humans should not be deciding that matter under threat of nuclear bombardment from the Tenth Fleet in space. And the humans certainly should not be deciding who was to be the next Emperor.
The neighborhoods were taking action, albeit destructive action. The first stores looted were the liquor stores. Groceries and electronics stores were looted next. Gun shops seemed immune to looting, perhaps because of all the dead looters on the sidewalk outside those shops. Fires began to get larger. Many crowds drifted towards Capital Square and the administrative heart of Capital City #1 because that was where the hated humans were holed up behind street barricades. The Imperial Palace lay at the exact center of the capital, and all major roads led there. The neighborhoods knew the humans were trying to set up a new government, and that really pissed them off.
I looked out the palace window and could see smoke rising from the distance. Colonel McGee had called on the radio and ordered a reconnaissance patrol to see what was happening in the neighborhoods. Also, legionnaires at the barricades were drawing sniper fire from civilians. It was clear to me what was happening. My world was turning to shit real fast. I told Lieutenant Lopez to go take a look for McGee.
* * * * *
Lieutenant Lopez took Sergeant Green, Corporal Ceausescu, Private Williams, and seven other legionnaires. They drove the armored car past rows of looted shops and empty littered streets. Finally, they met up with a crowd looting a large grocery store. The building had caught fire. The looters stopped and stared at the armored car. They seemed embarrassed at being caught. Sergeant Green pulled the slide back on the mounted machine gun and pointed it at them. Then the armored car moved on. The looters celebrated louder than ever and continued their destructive frenzy.
“Hey Lopez, how come we didn’t do anything about those looters?” asked Sergeant Green.
“It’s a spider problem,” answered Lieutenant Lopez. “Besides, I’m no cop. Our orders are to see what is happening in the neighborhoods and to report back. That’s all we are doing.”
“It’s a spider problem that we caused by confining their troops to barracks,” insisted Sergeant Green as they rounded a corner to see another crowd of looters attacking small shops. One of the looters was just lighting a gasoline bomb. Sergeant Green mowed him down with the machine gun. Green then turned his attention to the other looters, shooting as many as he could as they scattered in all directions. The other legionnaires joined in with small arms fire.
“Since when did you become a do-gooder?” asked Lieutenant Lopez, surveying all the dead and twitching bodies.
“I’m not a do-gooder,” answered Sergeant Green, as he reloaded. “I just don’t like punks.”
“Any excuse to kill spiders,” commented Corporal Ceausescu.
“I hear that,” added Private Williams.
“Shut up, Williams, or you will be walking home,” responded Sergeant Green.
A lone green spider emerged from one of the damaged shops, waving a white flag and hissing at the humans. As he got closer to the armored car, the computer translation device kicked in. “I will pay you 3,000 credits if you stay and protect our shops,” said the green merchant spider.
“That is not happening,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “We cannot stay.”
“But the looters will be back to burn us out,” insisted the merchant spider.
“Not these,” said Sergeant Green, as he shot one of the twitching looters. “He isn’t going to bother anyone anymore.”
“Others will be back,” said the merchant spider. “Will you take 4,000 credits to protect us? W
e have families here.”
“Sorry, Charlie, we don’t do credits,” replied Sergeant Green, giving the matter some thought. “Got any gold?”
The merchant spider took a ruby ring of his finger and handed it to Sergeant Green. “This ring is gold and more.”
“Yes indeed it is,” said Sergeant Green, holding the ring up to the light and then placing it in his pocket. Sergeant Green tossed the merchant spider an assault rifle and three clips. “That’s all I can do for you. We can’t be everywhere.”
“Thank you,” said the merchant spider excitedly. He snatched the rifle and ammo clips and ran off to his shop.
“I don’t believe you just did that,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “You can’t just sell off our equipment like that.”
“Why not?” asked Sergeant Green.
“It’s illegal.”
“We have plenty, and I don’t think Captain Czerinski would care. Besides, did you see the size of that ruby?”
“I’ll have you up on charges if you ever do anything like that again,” said Lieutenant Lopez.
“Since when did you become such a stickler for the rules?” asked Sergeant Green. “Oh I forgot. You’re an officer now. Excuse me, Lieutenant Lopez, sir. Now that you’re The Man, we should all kiss your ass.”
“You may not sell our weapons to the spiders,” insisted. Lieutenant Lopez. “It’s illegal and wrong in so many ways.”
“Don’t you give me any shit over this, Lopez. I knew you when we were both privates. I could kick your ass then and I’ll kick your ass now. Just try me. Besides, that green spider needed a rifle to defend himself. I would have given it to him for free, but the fool insisted on paying me. What am I to do?”
Just then about five more green merchant spiders came running out to the armored car waving white flags and more jewelry. “We need to buy rifles, too. We have families to defend,” they clamored.
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 1: Feeling Lucky Page 11
