“Yes, of course,” replied Lieutenant Lopez, accepting the check. “After this war sorts itself out, there will be a lot of money to be made trading. Captain Czerinski said so himself. I will be buying land on New Colorado. Contact me and we will do more business.”
“How do you know that check is good?” asked Private Nesbit. “He’s a spider. You can’t trust spiders. Aren’t you even going to ask to see his ID?”
“Do spiders have ID?” asked Private Williams.
“You have to have some faith,” explained Lieutenant Lopez as he helped unload the nuke. “Not everyone is a crook. Besides. I know where he lives.”
On the way back to the palace, Lieutenant Lopez ordered the armored car driver to drive up the steps of a large white marble-faced building on the edge of Capital Square, with big spider lettering chiseled above the doorway. Dead spider rioters littered the steps. Lieutenant Lopez figured if the spiders’ economy was anything like humans’, the biggest and most prestigious buildings would be reserved for banking. Lieutenant Lopez and Private Williams entered the building through the damaged front door.
“If your intent is robbery, be warned, we at First National Bank of Arthropoda have the means to resist,” a spider behind a grilled teller’s cage called out.
“I am here to open an account and to make a substantial deposit,” replied Lieutenant Lopez, passing his check through the cage.
“Human pestilence can’t make deposits,” said the spider in the teller cage.
“Why not?” asked Lieutenant Lopez, pulling the slide back on his assault rifle. “This check should be good.”
“It is highly irregular,” explained the spider, looking at the check. “But given the size of this transaction, and the fact that I am the bank manager, I will make an exception for you, sir. Have you paid income taxes on this money? We do not tolerate money-laundering at First National Bank of Arthropoda.”
“With a war going on?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “I didn’t have time to pay no stinking taxes.”
“Taxes are a small matter that can be attended to later. Did you know that all deposits this large are reported to the Director of Intelligentsia and State Security?” asked the bank manager.
“I think we killed him,” commented Lieutenant Lopez.
“For asking stupid questions,” added Private Williams.
“I see,” said the bank manager nervously. “I will do my best to expedite your transaction. Do you have any identification?”
“Yes,” said Lieutenant Lopez, presenting Legion ID.
“Do you have a caste security number?” asked the bank manager. “Probably not. Sorry I asked a dumb question. Will this be a savings or checking account?”
“Checking. I want an ATM card, too,” said Lieutenant Lopez.
“Certainly, sir,” said the bank manager, handing back the Legion ID. A checkbook was printed and presented to Lieutenant Lopez. “I took the liberty of putting the American Embassy as your address, sir.”
“The embassy burned down. But I’m sure a new embassy will be established,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I think the new embassy will be located where that red building stands across the Square from here.”
“We at First National Bank of Arthropoda appreciate your business and consider you to be a valued customer. Is there anything further I can do for you today?” asked the bank manager.
“Is this bank insured?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.
“Most certainly,” boasted the bank manager. “First National Bank of Arthropoda is the oldest, largest, most respected, most secure bank in the entire Empire. We have branches on all five planetary systems and on several space stations. We will soon even open a new branch on Planet #6. Your money is safe with us, sir.”
“Thank you,” said Lieutenant Lopez, as he turned to leave. “That will be all for now.”
CHAPTER 18
“It was really was too bad about McGee. He was a good colonel,” commented Lieutenant Lopez.
“Yeah, he paid attention to things. McGee thought of stuff I never would have thought of,” I added.
“Someone should tell the major,” suggested Lieutenant Lopez.
“What major?” I asked. “We have a major?”
“I think so,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Corporal Kool, do we still have a major? What’s his name?”
“We are supposed to have a major,” answered Corporal Kool. “But I haven’t seen him since we jumped. I think he got lost or something. Maybe he beamed into a building.”
“Well that’s just fine. We lost our major,” I lamented. “You know, I told McGee there were snipers out there. But does the brass ever listen to me? No.”
“You should see the Emperor,” bragged Lieutenant Lopez. “I propped him up in the window real good. Put a string on his hand so Private Nesbit can make his claw wave back and forth. I even put the crown on his head and everything, man. Su majestic mire muy regia.”
“Corporal Kool! Radio the T. Roosevelt and tell Sergeant Mendoza I want a 5,000 pound bomb dropped on that red building directly across Capital Square from the Imperial Palace,” I ordered. “And make sure he gets those directions right. Make him repeat them back to you.”
“Yes sir. And sir, General Kalipetsis is on the line,” said Corporal Kool.
“I just heard about McGee,” said General Kalipetsis. “Too bad. He was a good man.”
“Yes sir,” I answered.
“Where is your major? You know, what’s his name?” asked General Kalipetsis.
“Haven’t seen him since the jump,” I answered. “I think he got lost.”
“How do you lose a major,” asked General Kalipetsis. “Anything else I should know?”
“Yes sir. The Emperor is dead,” I replied.
“Impossible! I’m watching the Emperor on spider TV waving to the crowds,” said General Kalipetsis. “Are you sure?”
“Yes sir, he’s been dead for hours. We just propped him up in the window for show,” I answered.
“And how did this happen?” asked General Kalipetsis.
“You know, now that I think about it, I think #14 murdered him this morning. Strangled him in bed or something,” I said.
“That makes sense because that slimy bastard #14 just assumed control of Arthropoda,” said General Kalipetsis. “In fact, that is why I’m calling. We’re having a three way conference call with #14 to negotiate the future of Arthropoda. Starting now.”
“Hello Captain Czerinski. How very nice to talk to you again,” said #14 over the radio video.
“You are still alive?” I asked. “How about #15?”
“We are both quite fine,” replied #14. “I am not vindictive. I am still willing to grant you and your legionnaires safe passage back to the T. Roosevelt. Just leave Arthropoda forever.”
“Can’t do it,” said General Kalipetsis. “Your legislature just elected #2 Prime Minister, so the Tenth Fleet is staying to support the legitimate government of Arthropoda.”
“The Tenth Fleet? That’s funny. The Tenth Fleet is about as useful as the Emperor,” said #14, laughing. “The traitors and stooges you installed in the legislature have been arrested. As we speak, armored army units are securing our Capital City and establishing a perimeter around Capital Square. And that shyster #2 is in hiding.”
“No way,” I said, alarmed. “If I see armor anywhere near Capital Square I’ll set nukes off all over the city. I have captured nukes here. I have all sorts of nukes.”
“What we need is to calm down,” cautioned General Kalipetsis. “He knows about the Tenth Fleet?”
“Yes! And what we need is air strikes,” I said. “Hit that armor before it gets deployed.”
“Our planetary defenses and our remaining warships will blast you from orbit if you use nukes against Arthropoda. I’m warning you to back off,” said #14.
“Captain Czerinski, you are ordered, in the best tradition of the United States Galactic Foreign Legion, to hold your position at all costs until reinforceme
nts arrive. We have #2 on spider TV, appealing for support from the neighborhoods against #14’s assertion of power. Help will be on the way.”
“This is like the Alamo. We will be famous heroes,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “They will find your metal hand in the ashes and put it in the Smithsonian Museum. Sera el material de que leyendas estan hechas.”
“Fight without air support?” I asked. “Against armor? I prefer martyrdom be postponed.”
“I know you can do it,” said General Kalipetsis.
“You must be out of your fucking mind,” I said, cutting off the signal from General Kalipetsis. “It’s not that I am afraid of dying. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”
“About time you did that,” said #14. “Now we can talk. I don’t want nukes going off in my Capital, but the city is pretty much trashed anyway. Nuclear radiation is a lot more harmful to humans than it is to us. I will use my armor to remove you if I have to.”
“You aren’t strong enough yet to survive another war. Your own people will kill you,” I added.
“I am offering all human troops on Arthropoda safe passage off the planet. No pre-conditions. Just leave. Take your weapons and gear. I am being very generous,” insisted #14.
Just then a 5,000 bomb dropped on the red building directly across Capital Square from the Imperial Palace.
“#14, are you still alive?” I asked.
“Of course I am. That was not a very nice thing to do. It will cost you,” threatened #14.
“Sorry about that. It was an accident. I accept your offer. Send shuttles and we will begin the evacuation. And don’t forget, I still want Lieutenant Norris returned!”
“Agreed.”
* * * * *
It seemed like everyone had a plan. General Kalipetsis wanted to disarm the spiders, then nuke them. #14 wanted power. Me? I just wanted to survive the day. Shuttles were leaving now. Mine was the last. Lieutenant Norris sat across from me, happy to be going home. I looked down at Arthropoda as we blasted off toward the T. Roosevelt. After checking my E-mail, I called up front to the pilot. “Take evasive action now! A surface to air missile has locked on to us!” The shuttle lurched to the side and downward, skimming the northern continent at ground level and emitting chaff before striking out for space. A nuclear tipped missile exploded behind us, but we were safe. Later, the pilot asked how I knew about the SAM before it was detected on radar. Even paranoid people have enemies, I thought to myself. “Just a guess,” I answered.
CHAPTER 19
The Inauguration Day ceremonies were going to be a true spectacle. #14 stood atop the Imperial Palace steps overlooking a hundred thousand soldiers. Flags fluttered in a stiff breeze. Air Wing jets did a low altitude fly-by. #15, the new Vice President, moved off to his right. #14 stepped up to the podium. The crowd cheered and clapped in unison.
“The human pestilence is gone. The heredity-based caste system is gone. Employment, social status, and financial success are now based on merit and character. Our space fleet will soon be rebuilt, and its honor restored.”
“The total industrial and military resources of the Empire’s five planetary systems are being mobilized to drive the human pestilence from Arthropodan space. We will take the war to Earth, just as the humans once took the war to these very steps of the Imperial Palace. I will exterminate the human pestilence once and for all. That is my will. That is the will of Arthropoda. That is the will of God!
“We will avenge the murder of our Emperor at the hands of the human pestilence. In honor of our murdered and beloved Emperor, and to honor all of you, I will not assume the title of Emperor. I will merely take the position of Leader.
“Now is the time to strike the human pestilence while they are still weak. I will lead Arthropoda against the human pestilence with my last breath of life. I will be the sword of God that will smash the puny human worlds. I swear it. May God himself strike me down, should I falter.”
A basketball sized rock fell from the sky striking the ‘Leader.’ There was not much left of either #14 or the rock. After piecing the rock back together, investigators found the inscribed message: LIGHT UP YOUR DAY, COURTESY OF THE USA.
#15 stepped forward and assumed the office of President of Arthropoda. He promised a more moderate agenda of free trade, fair elections, the rule of law, and goodwill toward neighbor nations.
CHAPTER 20
A demilitarized zone separated spider territory from human territory on the planet of New Colorado. The DMZ Village, occupied by both Intelligentsia Security troops and the Galactic Foreign Legion, served as both local military administration center and grievance airing point for both species. Today the spiders’ main grievance was that the legionnaire snipers were better shots than the Intelligentsia snipers during an exchange yesterday. #10, the ranking Intelligentsia officer in the village, approached me and my men in front of the joint dining hall. I noticed the spiders carried four-foot riot batons. Firearms were forbidden inside the DMZ Village. #10 was accompanied by three Intelligentsia soldiers. Four more spider troopers hung back a few feet, forming a half circle around us. Save us from peace, I thought to myself.
“Captain Czerinski. Your unprovoked sniper attacks across the DMZ will not be tolerated,” said #10, starting the round of negotiations.
“Your snipers shot first,” I responded. “They got what they deserved.”
“You will get what you deserve. Your armed intrusion into the DMZ is a violation of the cease fire agreement,” said #10. “Our patrols were merely defending Arthropodan territory.”
“Your soldiers can kiss my ass,” I replied. “You have been provoking incidents all along the DMZ for the last month. Do it again and I will call in an air strike.”
“We will melt Arthropodan territory into glass,” added Lieutenant Lopez. “Puta.”
“The human pestilence sends the Butcher of Planet #6 and his attack dog to enforce the peace? What a joke,” commented #10. #10 then swung his baton, striking Private Williams on the side of his Kevlar helmet. Lieutenant Lopez was struck next. Lieutenant Lopez had time to put up his forearm in self defense, but was still knocked down. I immediately drew a concealed 9 MM pistol and shot #10 and his three guards. The four spiders who had hung back from our discussion dropped their batons and ran. I shot them too. I then got on the radio and requested armor and air strikes.
What I got in response was General Kalipetsis yelling at me on the radio. “Czerinski! What in the hell are you doing up there? Trying to start a war?”
“The war has already started,” I answered. “I’m just trying to live through it.”
“I am reviewing what just happened from your helmet cameras,” said General Kalipetsis. “It was probably only an isolated attack by a local commander. Pull back from the DMZ Village now. This will all blow over in a few days. Christ, Czerinski, you know firearms aren’t allowed in the DMZ Village.”
“So fire me,” I responded. “Kick me out of the Legion and send me home to Mars.”
“That’s not happening,” replied General Kalipetsis. “You are in the Legion for the duration.”
* * * * *
The spiders sent a new #10 to replace the dead #10. Both sides admitted to wrongdoing and agreed to use restraint in settling differences, and to make more of an effort to coexist. Both sides moved more armor, artillery, air support, and nukes up to the DMZ. We painted our blue helmets spotted green. I wasn’t invited to these discussions. Instead, I was sent to the desert where it was reported that the spiders had tunneled fifteen miles under the human zone and set up bunker fortifications. Satellite reconnaissance showed irrigated fields and crops and a substantial housing development in a previously thought to be uninhabitable desert area on the frontier. General Kalipetsis sent me to make contact with the spiders and to tell them to leave. I had explicit orders not to kill anyone or to start a war. Yet.
Our column of armored cars was met by green spiders at the front gate of a bunker complex. Their leader, a large me
rchant spider, seemed to be expecting our arrival. “Welcome to Waterstone,” said the merchant spider. “What brings the Foreign Legion this far out to the frontier? A lovely day for a visit?”
“You are fifteen miles past the border,” I announced. “You are trespassing. Get out or I will call in an air strike and nuke you all.”
“That was harsh,” whispered Sergeant Green.
“We are not leaving. Our bunkers and tunnels are impervious to nuclear attack,” responded the merchant spider. “And we have air support. If anyone should leave, maybe it should be you.”
“Don’t you realize you are violating the ceasefire agreement your government signed?” I asked. Legionnaires deployed their weapons to my left and right. “Do you want to start a war?”
“The Anthropodan Emperor does not represent us. Besides, we bought this land,” said the merchant spider, handing me a scroll. “This deed has been filed and notarized by a human court.”
I read the deed. It said Lieutenant Manny Lopez of the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion sold one hundred square miles of desert land known locally as Waterstone for ten million dollars in gold.
“This isn’t legal,” I insisted. “Spiders can’t buy land in the human zone.”
“We can and we did,” said the merchant spider. “I’ll have my lawyers contact your lawyers if you persist in trying to breech our contract.”
“Lieutenant Lopez!” I called out. “Get up here!”
“Lieutenant Lopez trotted up to the gate and saluted. His arm was still in a cast. “Sir? What’s up?”
I waved the deed in front of Lieutenant Lopez. “Your name is on this deed for having sold this land to the spiders! Care to explain?”
“I’ve been dabbling in real estate on the side,” explained Lieutenant Lopez. “You have a problem with that?”
“They’re spiders! You can’t sell spiders our land,” I said. “This is fifteen miles from the border.”
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 1: Feeling Lucky Page 13
