America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 1: Feeling Lucky

by Walter Knight

  “Sergeant Green has my money? I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, Lopez, but we are not stealing the Formicidaen ship,” I said, getting up to leave. “You need to think this through.”

  Privates Washington and Williams entered the ship, carrying crates of supplies. Corporal Kool followed with legionnaires carrying missiles and nukes. Lieutenant Lopez nodded to Corporal Kool. “Secure the ship. Kick the spiders off. We blast off in five minutes.”

  “Belay that order,” I said. “We are not going anywhere.”

  A couple shots rang out. Lieutenant Lopez pointed his pistol at me. “Strap in, we are leaving now.”

  Moments later we blasted off, and beamed across the galaxy to the Formicidaen home world. From our stealth ship, Lieutenant Lopez watched in fascination the line of ant merchant ships passing back and forth from the planet below.

  “I know what you are thinking,” I said, looking at Lopez. “You are thinking it will be an adventure to be pirates. Pirates of the Foreign Legion. It sounds grand. It has a ring to it. But you forget – humans hang pirates. What do you think ants do to pirates? What ever it is, it can’t be good.”

  “I turn command back over to you, General,” said Lieutenant Lopez, holstering his pistol. “Which ship do you want to plunder first?”

  I looked at the radar and light displacement screens showing spaceship activity originating from a single spaceport on the planet’s surface. “All is not forgiven, Lopez,” I warned. “Only constraints on imagination limit how painful your death will be.”

  “Oh come on, Czerinski,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “You are wound way too tight. Look here. Already I have a message from General Kalipetsis commending us for our initiative and authorizing us to attack Formicidaen shipping. We are going to be rich beyond our wildest dreams, and heroes to boot.”

  “That was fast,” I said, looking at the message. “They want to know what we named our new ship.”

  “The U.S.S. Shenandoah,” Lieutenant Lopez said immediately. “They will never catch us.”

  “That fits,” I said. “You know, this is not going to have a happy ending. We are sitting on top of an anthill. We will die a horrible death for sure.”

  “You sound worse than Sergeant Green,” scoffed Lieutenant Lopez. “No pain, no gain. Let’s just do it, sir.”

  “Target ten ant merchant ships with missiles, and use the space cannon to drop nukes on the spaceport and the space station,” I ordered.

  “What?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “Where is the profit in that? I want booty.”

  “The Formicidaen fleets are massed at the frontier, poised to invade and destroy humanity,” I explained. “We need to draw them back.”

  “Draw them back to us?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Today we send a message to the ants. Humanity is pissed off about their intrigue with the spiders. Humanity is pissed off about their invasion plans. And humanity is not to be messed with. They need to fear us.”

  “We will tell the ants who did this?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.

  “No. Let them panic and speculate,” I said. “We will hide in deep space and pick off their merchant ships for prize money. The ants will find out soon who attacked their home world. You wanted to be famous? They will put us on the Five O’clock News when they hang us from our toes and skin us alive.”

  * * * * *

  Lieutenant Lopez tracked the lone freighter on radar, inbound toward the Formicidaen home world. “The prize value of that ship alone will make us wealthy beyond our dreams,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Just think of the riches it may be carrying.”

  “Fire a cannon flare across its bow and command it to stop,” I ordered. “Then initiate electronic jamming on all frequencies.”

  The freighter came to a halt. I used the space cannon to put a small round through its side. I could see no sign of armament, but I remained wary. “Let them repair the damage before we board.”

  “What good is a prize ship if you fill it full of holes?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “It’s damaged goods.”

  “Our crew is small. A big freighter like that may have a large crew,” I explained. “They need to know we mean business.”

  Williams, Washington, and Kool led the boarding party. The ant crew of ten quickly surrendered. Its captain, the largest ant aboard, was very upset. “I put a lifetime of savings and effort into this ship, and you pirates punch holes in it for no reason,” complained the captain. “We surrendered, and you shot us anyway?”

  “Shut up, ant,” said Private Washington, giving the captain a shove. “Don’t look at me. Put your face to the bulkhead.”

  “What are you hideous creatures?” asked the captain, eyeing Private Washington. “You look like a giant spider.”

  “Your empire plans invasion against Earth, and you don’t even know who we are?” I asked. “We are the Grim Reaper, coming to collect souls.”

  “I know who you are, human,” said the captain. “It is that spider I have never seen. Just make sure you keep your oversized pet under control. There will be a reckoning if any of my crew are mistreated.”

  “What are you carrying?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “I want a bill of lading.”

  “Take it all. What do I care?” asked the captain. “It’s all insured. But please, don’t damage my ship. It’s all I have.”

  “It’s my ship now,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Be happy if you survive the day.”

  “ARRRR, ARRRR,” bellowed Private Williams. “Give us your chest of bobbles and gold coins or you will be walking the plank, you scurvy dog. ARRRR, ARRRR.”

  “Shut up Private Williams,” I said.

  “Is he stable?” asked the captain.

  “No,” I answered. “He is from Tennessee.”

  “Take us to your hold,” ordered Lieutenant Lopez, giving the captain another shove. “I want to see your cargo.”

  The captain led us to the cargo area. What we found wasn’t cargo. It contained about two hundred sentient beetle-like creatures locked up in cages. Soon our translation devices started working. “You are here to free us?” asked an elder beetle. “We heard explosions. Are we saved?”

  “What is this?” I asked. “You command a prison ship?”

  “These beetles are valuable cargo,” explained the captain. “They are tireless workers that will bring instant profit to any factory. They’re quite docile, too.”

  “This is your only cargo?” asked Lieutenant Lopez, grabbing the captain by the neck. “I want treasure!”

  “Isn’t this enough?” asked the ant captain. “They are worth a fortune.”

  “If there is not more, I will kill you for free,” said Lieutenant Lopez.

  “They are slaves?” I asked. “Not just laborers?”

  “These beetles and their planet, Coleoptera, are the property of the Formicidaen Empire. They are the spoils of war.”

  “There was no war,” said the beetle elder. “We don’t even have a military. The ants just invaded and took what they wanted. They take whatever is in their path. It’s what they do.”

  “You deserve to be slaves,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “You gave up your freedom without a fight.”

  “We are a peaceful species,” said the elder beetle. “There is no violence on Coleoptera. We don’t believe in war. War solves nothing.”

  “Are you kidding?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “War has solved every problem there ever was: slavery, Nazis, Communists, spiders, megalomaniacs of all kinds ... Democrats. All those ills took wars to eliminate. And it will take a war to get rid of these ants.”

  “We still have spiders,” corrected Private Williams.

  “I’m going to hit him,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I will kick him through the goal posts of life.”

  “Who will join the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion in a war to free your planet and save the galaxy?” I called out. No beetles stepped forward.

  “The beetles are not like you and I,” commen
ted the ant captain. “They want to be ruled. They need our guidance. It’s their lot in life.”

  “We will not join your war,” repeated the elder beetle.

  “I only advocate war as a means of peace,” I said.

  “I will fight,” said a young beetle, stepping forward. “Old School here doesn’t speak for me. Many of us would have fought, but we had no weapons. We weren’t organized like the ants. Arm us. We will kick ass.”

  “What is your name?” I asked.

  “We don’t have names,” said the young beetle. “A name will make you vain.”

  “You are required to have a name if you join the Foreign Legion. It’s a rule,” I explained. “Your name will be Jackson. Action Jackson. Private Action Jackson. It kind of rolls off the tongue, don’t you think?”

  “Thank you sir,” said Private Action Jackson. “I like my new name.”

  “Anyone else?” I called out.

  “Youth do not know any better,” said the elder beetle. “They are full of themselves. No one else will join your war.”

  “Shut up, Old School,” I said. “You are full of shit! Anyone else?” About nine more beetles stepped forward.

  “Ten out of two hundred?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “Your species disgusts me.”

  “The rest of you will remain locked up,” I announced. “This ship is now a prize of the Shenandoah. It will be put on automatic pilot to rendezvous with a human ship in about thirty days. You will then be beamed to Earth.”

  “What will become of us?” asked the elder beetle. “More slavery?”

  “Slavery is outlawed on Earth,” I answered. “Be glad I’m not sending you to Mars. Military Intelligence will interrogate all of you for information about the ants and your home world. You will probably be put on TV for propaganda purposes. When you are no longer useful, I hope they chop you up and turn you into canned cat food.”

  “Who will care for us while we are locked up during the voyage?” asked the elder beetle. “Who will feed us?”

  “The ants,” I said.

  “You would leave us to the mercy of the captain and his crew?” asked the beetle elder. “They will mistreat us.”

  “You misunderstand,” I said. I drew my pistol and shot the ant captain in the head. “He will be your first meal. Enjoy.”

  “You are the most barbarous species I have ever encountered,” said the beetle elder. “You are worse than the ants.”

  “For the sake of the galaxy and the future of your species, you had better hope so,” I said.

  “That was extreme,” commented Lieutenant Lopez, as we walked away. “Are you going loco?”

  “To defeat your enemy, you have to become worse than your enemy,” I said. “Didn’t they teach you that in basic training?”

  “No,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “You need counseling.”

  “Oh. Well, maybe I just read that in the new and improved Wall Street Journal.” I headed back to the command deck. “Let’s liberate Coleoptera.”

  “Yes sir, General,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “And make some money along the way.”

  CHAPTER 26

  In orbit around Coleoptera were three Formicidaen warships, a space station, and a large communications satellite. Shuttles were docking at the space station to unload cargo for transfer to freighters. I targeted all five with missiles. All were destroyed. Then I dropped a large nuke on the ants’ main surface spaceport, destroying most of their planetary air support. Smaller military targets were located and nuked at our leisure as we prepared a TV broadcast to the population below. On screen was Private Action Jackson, flanked by Private Washington and myself.

  Action Jackson spoke to the camera as the planet watched. “My fellow Coleopterans. I am General Action Jackson speaking to you from orbit high above Coleoptera. Do not be alarmed by the nuclear flashes in the sky or by the falling debris from the Formicidaen ships. It is just the beginning of the end of the Formicidaen occupation of Coleoptera. No longer will the ants steal our citizens into slavery. On the ground the Formicidaen spaceport has been destroyed, along with their air force. Smaller military installations are being targeted as I speak.”

  I raised my brows, mulling over Private Action Jackson’s self-promotion to general as he continued. “I have assumed full control of the government of Coleoptera. I order the apparatus of government to stop collaborating with the ants and to assist our population in revolt against the evil Empire of Formicidae. You may ask yourselves how is our salvation made possible after suffering for so long? I have better questions. How is it that our leaders did not resist the ant invasion in the first place? How is it that we were not prepared to defend ourselves? How dare they collaborate in our enslavement?

  “To my right is General Joey R. Czerinski of the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion. General Czerinski rescued me and my mates from a slave ship. General Czerinski shot the slave ship’s captain and fed the body to collaborators who would not join our historic struggle. Humans do not tolerate slavery. General Czerinski has nuked the ants’ home world and is currently raining down death and destruction upon the ants on our world. The United States Galactic Federation stands with us against the unjust and corrupt Formicidaen Empire.

  “To my left is General George Rambo Washington of the Arthropodan Empire.” My eyebrows rose even higher at the mention of Washington’s surprise promotion to general, but Action Jackson didn’t miss a beat. “General Washington also pledges support for our cause. More help is on the way as we do battle against the ants together on several fronts. Our new allies are the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. But freedom will not be handed to you. The flower of freedom will only be kept alive by our own sacrifice and blood. Otherwise, we merely trade one master for another. Rise up in revolt. Give the ants no quarter. Arrest all collaborators. You will be supported from the air and space. Legion troops will be landing soon. Do not be alarmed by their presence. Humans are our allies. Stay tuned for further instructions and developments. Thank you and God bless our struggle.”

  “That was quite a speech, General,” I said, after the camera went off. “I hope we can deliver on your promises.”

  “I said what needed to be said to inspire confidence,” said General Action Jackson.

  “A leader is a dealer in hope,” I commented. “You did good.”

  “When will re-enforcements arrive?” asked General Action Jackson.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “We are still working on the logistics of that. My plan for now is to survive today. I expect a Formicidaen fleet will arrive before ours. And, they will arrive in greater numbers.”

  “First, cleanse your planet of ants,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “We will intercept the Formicidaen fleet. We have your back.”

  “I don’t know how we can ever repay you,” said General Action Jackson. “We are in your debt.”

  “If you survive nuclear devastation,” said Lieutenant Lopez, “paying us in gold bars and jewels would be nice. Also, I would like to negotiate an exclusive casino franchise on Coleoptera.”

  * * * * *

  One day later, a Formicidaen fleet of twenty warships beamed into Coleopteran space. Using our stealth technology, we circled behind the fleet and established video communications via a relay station with Prince Tok, Commander. Washington and Jackson shared the screen with me. “This is General Czerinski of the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion, commanding the Tenth Fleet from aboard my flag ship Shenandoah. You are trespassing on United States Galactic Federation and Coleopteran space. You will halt immediately or risk destruction and war with the United States Galactic Federation and its allies.”

  “Nonsense,” said Prince Tok. His radar officer located the relay station, but not the Shenandoah. “We are en route to put down a minor slave rebellion on Coleoptera. It is you who are trespassing in our space. It is you who risk destruction.”

  “The United States Galactic Federation has signed a mutual defense pact with the sovereign planet of Co
leoptera. If you take any action against Coleoptera, you will immediately be at war with the United States Galactic Federation. Are you authorized to take that step?”

  “What is that sitting next to you?” asked Prince Tok. “A giant spider? It’s hideous.”

  “I am General George Rambo Washington of the Anthropodan Empire. The Empire is allied with the humans. Beware, we have already killed your Prince Tak and destroyed his fleet when he trespassed into our space. You will be next if you do not withdraw.”

  “I will not be intimidated by an oversized spider,” said Prince Tok. Lopez signaled that his ship was broadcasting the exchange live to the Formicidaen Fleet flagship on the frontier. “I sweep arachnids aside. You are a sub-species suitable only for factory work.”

  “You are lower than whale shit,” responded General Washington.

  “Whale shit? What is a whale?” asked Prince Tok, obviously stalling to wait for instructions.

  “Something really low,” said General Washington, puffing up. “You have been grievously insulted.”

  “How dare you interfere with an internal Formicidaen matter,” said Prince Tok. “You will pay for your insolence and for violating our territorial integrity.”

  “Coleoptera is an independent planet,” said General Action Jackson. “It is you who violates our territorial integrity. You also violate interplanetary law.”

  “A beetle who finally has some calcium in his exoskeleton?” said Prince Tok. “You and your species are nothing.”

  “I hold thousands of ants hostage on Coleoptera,” said General Action Jackson. “I can kill them at any time, but I prefer an exchange. I demand the Empire return our citizens.”

  “It is a dangerous game you play, beetle,” said Prince Tok. “Do you have any idea who you have allied yourself with? Do you know anything of humans?”

  “I owe my life to the humans,” said General Action Jackson.

  “When humans get bored, they commit genocide against themselves,” said Prince Tok. “There are humans who still live in the Stone Age, left behind while the elite conquer the stars. If humans have such a low regard for their own kind, what makes you think they will respect your species? Humanity is an abomination that thinks you are a tasty meal or something to be stepped on.”