“Yes, sir,” I said. “I have good news from here, sir. The spiders just released Corporal Krueger. And the word on the ground is that the Emperor has abolished the Office of the Intelligentsia & State Security, citing the agency for being out of control, insubordinate, and a threat to the stability and well being of the Empire.”
“Outstanding! Finally some good news,” said General Kalipetsis. “I have some good news for you too. The President started a National Guard unit at Waterstone, and we have lots of spider volunteers. I want to fly down there with you for an inspection and see how we can assist.”
“I can’t do it, sir,” I lied. “I am in the middle of negotiations with the new #10. But, I can call ahead for you to Waterstone. I know the mayor. I will have him roll out a red carpet reception for you. He’ll have a band, drinks, food, TV cameras, and lots of happy spiders.”
“Thank you, Czerinski. That would be great,” said General Kalipetsis.
“There is only one hotel in Waterstone,” I added. “It’s run by an influential spider named Amanda. I will call her and tell her that the Supreme Commander and Governor of New Colorado will be arriving and to make sure you get only the best rooms for you and your staff. She wants to talk to you anyway about a gambling license for her hotel. Maybe you can fast track the license process for her. When you see Amanda, tell her that you are dedicated to protection and well-being of Waterstone. She will love you to death for it, sir.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks for the heads up, Captain Czerinski,” said General Kalipetsis. “You are a good man and a credit to the Foreign Legion.”
CHAPTER 23
#64 drank vodka as he sat in the DMZ Tavern, a local drinking spot that catered to the military. #64 liked vodka. It was the only good thing that came from the human pestilence. As he drank, #64 griped about the sorry state of the galaxy to anyone who would listen. “I have had two commanders assassinated by the human pestilence. And what is the General Staff’s response? They just let the humans go,” complained #64. “That Czerinski struts around like he owns the whole planet. He attends parties at our governor’s mansion. He is promoted. And that sniper, Krueger. We capture Krueger and he gets pardoned and released, too. Now Krueger is in one of those guard towers, laughing at us.”
#85 nodded in agreement. “I should have fed Krueger to my dragon when I had the chance,” said #85, reaching under the table to pat the monitor on the snout and give it another slurp of vodka.
“The humans get stronger every day. They are re-enforcing their positions with more bunkers, armor, and legionnaires,” said #64. “They are even enlisting traitorous Greens into their Foreign Legion.”
“Traitors,” slurred #85 in agreement.
#64 was getting louder now. He eyed with contempt a green soldier sitting nearby. “You! Traitorous Green! You dare to drink with us?”
“I am a soldier, just like you,” responded the green spider. “I have earned the right to be here.”
“You have earned the right to be exterminated,” said #64. “You are not of the warrior caste. Go back to your money-grubbing shops.”
“The caste system was abolished by the Emperor,” said the green spider, now standing. “I joined the army to avenge the insult of human occupation of our capital. I am a loyal subject of the Emperor.”
“Greens are only loyal to money. Your kind built a city on the human side of the DMZ. You trade with the humans. It’s even rumored that your females have sex with humans. Do you deny it? Your race is an abomination.”
“I have faced and killed humans in combat. Have you?” asked the green spider. “After all I’ve been through in battle, the last thing I am going to do is tolerate insults from a piss-ant like you. Prepare to die.”
As the green spider took a step forward, he was shot from behind by an unknown assailant. The monitor dragon, already alerted by the smell of tension in the air, pounced on the dying spider, tearing it apart. The crowd lifted their mugs and cheered a toast. The bartender, another green spider, quietly left the building. #64 announced that all drinks were on the house, courtesy of the Greens.
“Let this be a lesson to all traitors,” #64 said to the crowd. “The human pestilence, their green allies, and collaborators on the General Staff, including the new Governor, should be exterminated. Our honor demands it!”
There were more cheers. Every spider carried a communications imaging device. #64’s speech and the murder of the green soldier were recorded and broadcast to friends over the internets. Even as #64 addressed the bar crowd, his comments were being aired on local TV. Soon, three police officers showed up. The police still wore the black uniform of the defunct Intelligentsia. “You are under arrest,” announced the ranking officer, flanked by his two subordinates. “Put your hands and claw out to be cuffed up.”
“Really?” said #64. “For what? Drunk and disorderly?” Everyone laughed.
“Murder, treason, and sedition,” replied the officer. “You will come with us.”
“He will not come with you,” hissed #85. The crowd pressed in on the officers, creating a barrier between them and #64. The monitor tugged at his leash, sensing blood would soon be spilled. The police officers raised their submachine guns as the crowd jostled them.
“Stop!” yelled #64. “These police officers are just doing their duty. Following orders. Do not blame them. Let them live, for now. Blame their superiors. Blame the new Governor. Blame the General Staff. I will submit to arrest. But I will treat this arrest like a badge of honor.”
The crowded parted as #64 was lead away. By now a nasty crowd had gathered outside too. Spiders pushed and hissed at the police officers as #64 was put inside a police car. More police were arriving. Spiders pounded on the car windows and rocked the police car back and forth. Finally the police car sped away, leaving a riot in its wake. And it all made the Eleven O’clock News.
* * * * *
At the detention center, sympathetic and frightened guards allowed #64 to keep his communications device. #64 used the next few weeks in maximum security to record his thoughts and to send out messages. #64 wrote a short book called ‘My Story,’ outlining his plans for Arthropoda. He accused the humans and Greens of holding the Emperor hostage with outlandish promises of a rumored Fountain of Youth. The Emperor, desperate for immortality, was willing to sell out the interests of Arthropoda for false human technology and the Greens’ money. The fool.
#64 demanded that all those collaborating with the humans be punished. The human pestilence needed to be exterminated. A new and more powerful Arthropodan Empire would rise from the human ashes and sweep across the galaxy. It is our destiny.
Many agreed. Crowds gathered at the prison, demanding #64’s immediate release. Demonstrations occurred on all five of the other inhabited planets. Finally a magistrate set bail and allowed visitors. #85 was the first let in.
“Your bail is being posted as we speak,” said #85, triumphantly. “They dare not hold you any longer. Justice will prevail.”
“No!” said #64. “I like it here. It gives me peace and quiet and time to think.”
“You are kidding? Right?” asked #85.
“Tell my followers I will not leave my jail cell until the new Governor resigns, admits his collaboration with the enemy, and trades places with me,” said #64.
“That is not likely to happen,” said #85. “The Governor will not trade a mansion for a cell.”
“Tell the Governor! Tell all I will begin a hunger strike until the new Governor is locked up,” said #64. “And another thing. We need to get more organized. I want you to form a new political party. Issue members dated ID cards for a fee. Put our candidates in place for the upcoming elections. I will give you a list of trusted sergeants I have in mind. I want a militia formed to enforce the will of our new party. We will call them dragon troops. Our new party will be the Dragon Party.”
“I like the sound of that,” said #85. “Dragon troops. The name alone will instill fear.”
“We need to send a strong message by making some examples of our enemies. Greens are to be pressured out of the military. Green merchants are to be taxed extra to help pay for our activities. I want Krueger and Czerinski killed. And, I want Waterstone destroyed,” concluded #64.
“It should be easy enough to kill the human pestilence. Maybe we can even destroy Waterstone,” added #85. “But when you talk of organizing a political party and financing a private army, it sounds like you want to seize power. How far are you wanting to take this?”
“All the way,” said #64. “The Governor and even the Emperor are propped up by a rotten foundation supported by no one. Smash that rotten foundation, and the whole power structure comes crashing down. But one step at a time. First, I want some payback.”
* * * * *
Sergeant Krueger sat atop a tower overlooking the DMZ. He was reading the news. It was boring duty. Major Czerinski put him on light duty to assist in his recovery from incarceration. Sergeant Krueger supposed that Major Czerinski thought light duty was a reward for the ordeal. Truth be known, promotion to sergeant was good enough. The spiders roughed him up a little, but no real harm was done. It was time to just move on. So, Sergeant Krueger endured his light duty by putting his feet up on the desk, reading the newspaper, and relaxing as much as possible. The newspaper blocked all view of the danger at the window. Sergeant Krueger smiled as he thought about even getting some shut-eye later. A busy sergeant needs his beauty sleep.
Suddenly Sergeant Krueger threw his paper down, and stretched out his arms. What was that awful smell? It seemed familiar somehow. Then he remembered the night Delacruz was killed. He lurched forward in his chair just in time to see the monitor dragon, black as coal, slip through the open window. Before Sergeant Krueger had time to leap from his chair or reach for his rifle, the dragon had him by the neck, cutting off his air as it whipped him around like a rag doll. The last image Sergeant Krueger ever saw was the red eye on the side of the dragon’s head as its jaws tightened.
* * * * *
What was left of Sergeant Krueger was found at 0600 shift exchange. No one had bothered to check on Sergeant Krueger during the night. It was assumed that Krueger was safe up there in his tower. Land mines and sensors protected the tower perimeter. If Sergeant Krueger was sleeping, who cared? The war was over and we are at peace. I was called to inspect the scene and arrived at 0700.
“He was eaten,” advised Sergeant Green. “It was probably one of those giant lizards the spiders keep as pets.”
“This is no way for a soldier to die,” I commented. I looked over the railing. “How did a giant lizard climb the tower? Can they fly?”
“You are from the Southwest,” said Sergeant Green. “You have seen lizards climb straight up walls. It’s no big deal for them.”
I nodded. I guessed it was possible. “The question that still remains is whether this was deliberate or just a random attack by a wild animal.”
Sergeant Green slammed his fist against the wall. “Of course it was deliberate! Lizards are attached to spider military units. It was a lizard that tracked and captured Sergeant Krueger. It was a lizard that ate Private Delacruz. Remember? It was probably the same lizard that killed Krueger.”
I tried to put it all out of my mind for just a few seconds. I closed my eyes and sat down. Just then a sniper’s bullet shattered the window where I had just stood. I dropped to the floor. Sergeant Krueger’s blood soaked my uniform. Below I could hear gunfire as legionnaires returned fire into the DMZ. However, the sniper got away.
* * * * *
I returned to my office to clean up. Being that we never did find our lost major, I got his job, rank, and office. A replacement for Colonel McGee had yet to arrive, so I got his job, too. That involved lots of paperwork, which I delegated. General Kalipetsis put me in charge of rebuilding the DMZ Village. General Kalipetsis was not happy with me. Apparently his visit to Waterstone did not go well. It seems Amanda had somehow injured the general while she was giving him a tour of the Hotel. Details were not forthcoming, and the matter was being kept hush-hush. General Kalipetsis was still recovering in the hospital.
Waiting in my office as I arrived was an official from General Kalipetsis’ staff. “Major, I am glad to meet you. I am James Yamashita, newly appointed Director of Tourism for New Colorado. I am escorting a busload of VIPs across the DMZ on a sightseeing tour. They’re taking a lot of pictures and stuff like that. Your troops won’t let us cross. I have written permission from General Kalipetsis to cross the DMZ and go anywhere I want.”
“It is not safe to cross the DMZ at this time,” I advised.
“What happened to your uniform? Are you injured?” asked Yamashita, apparently just noticing the blood.
“No, I am not injured. Thank you for asking.”
“I hope we aren’t at war with the spiders again,” commented Yamashita. “War would ruin tourism on New Colorado. Do you realize how much interest there is in traveling to New Colorado and seeing the spiders first-hand? Ever since we all saw you on TV fighting the spiders, the public can’t get enough of them.”
“No. We are not at war, yet. But there was an incident on the DMZ this morning. Travel is restricted for now,” I explained. “It’s for your own safety.”
“Now what do I do? We came a long way to take pictures of friendly spiders,” complained Yamashita.
“You want friendly spiders?” I asked. “Have I got a deal for you! Go to Waterstone. There are plenty of friendly spiders at Waterstone. They like tourists, too. There is even a casino hotel. It’s first rate. I will write you a pass so you can get through.”
* * * * *
Happy to have gotten his way, Yamashita gathered up his charges and loaded them on to a bus headed for Waterstone. They were greeted at a Legion checkpoint about three miles from Waterstone. Private Washington asked for Yamashita’s travel pass.
“The bus still needs to be searched before I can let you pass,” advised Private Washington, after inspecting the travel pass.
The tourists filed off the bus. They all were fascinated by the big green spider wearing a Legion uniform. Tourists began snapping pictures of the first friendly spider they had seen since the spider tour began.
“How long have you been in the Legion?” asked Yamashita, snapping a close-up photo of Private Washington.
“Get that camera out of my face or I will shove it up your butt hole,” answered Private Washington.
“Do you have any idea who I am?” asked Yamashita. “I am the Secretary of Tourism and a personal friend of your commanding officer, Major Czerinski. He signed my pass. Did you notice that? What is your name, Private?”
“You get your odd-ball collection of motherless children under control and back on that bus, or I will eat them all, starting with you. I think humans are yum-yum tasty,” threatened Private Washington.
“Major Czerinski assured me you spiders in Waterstone were friendly,” cried Yamashita, as he ran for the bus.
“You are not in Waterstone,” said Private Washington. “You are in the desert. Everything in the desert bites, stings, or kills. Never mess with a green spider in the desert!”
As the bus drove away, Washington walked up to the next vehicle. The van contained two green spiders. Private Washington asked them for their travel pass.
“We are refugees from the purge going on across the DMZ,” explained the driver. “We are going to Waterstone to start a new life. We have no pass.”
“Why didn’t you take the tunnel like everyone else?” asked Private Washington.
“We were in a hurry. How does it feel to be working for the humans?” asked the driver.
“I feel free and strong,” answered Private Washington. A sensor light alarm on Private Washington’s duty belt began flashing. Private Washington checked the screen: HIGH RADIATION DETECTED. TACTICAL NUCLEAR DEVICE SUSPECTED.
The same alarm flashed in Lieutenant Lopez’ office. Lieutenant Lopez ran outside to the van. Pointing his
assault rifle through the driver’s side window, Lieutenant Lopez shot both spiders dead.
“I sure hope that sensor isn’t malfunctioning again,” commented Private Washington, noticing the blood had splattered on his sleeve would be hard to wash out.
“You better hope the sensor is malfunctioning,” warned Lieutenant Lopez, as he opened the van door and threw the dead driver out onto the ground. He began searching the van. “Find the nuke. Now!”
After a brief search, Private Washington found the nuke in a backpack. Its timer had been set. Clutching the backpack, Private Washington drove the van out into the desert to a deep spider hole prepared for just this sort of situation. He dropped the nuke down the hole, then raced for the cover of a nearby hill. The explosion could be heard for miles. No one was harmed.
* * * * *
#85 led the militia dragon troops up the steps of the Governor’s Mansion. As he got to the top, he heard the explosion and saw the mushroom cloud forming on the horizon in the direction of Waterstone. Everyone knew what that meant. The guards at the mansion stepped aside. #85 arrested the Governor without incident. A few green soldiers and civilians were also arrested. Some resisted. At the prison, #85 led the Governor to #64’s cell. No one obstructed their path. #64 and the Governor traded places. The event was recorded for planetary TV news.
“What will become of me?” asked the Governor.
“Shoot him,” said #64, as he walked away.
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 1: Feeling Lucky Page 15
