“We just hit the jackpot!” exclaimed the first biker. “Ka-ching! Money makes the world go round.”
“Right on!” said the second biker. “I knew he was holding back. Now what?”
The first biker looked down at Grant, soaked with urine and still bleeding. Grant didn’t seem human anymore. He was pathetic. “Sorry dude,” said the biker. “But this is it for you.”
Grant put up his hand. “No! Please don’t kill me! Please! I just gave you a fortune in cash. Why would you want to kill me? What have I ever done to you?”
“You didn’t give us anything,” said the biker. “We took it! It’s nothing personal, but we can’t leave a witness to robbing this much money. We have to kill you. Sorry.”
“I won’t even tell the police!” pleaded Grant. “I hate the police. That’s why I got picked to sell Outlaw Beer. I’m just an outlaw like you. I used to do bank robberies, but I never killed anyone. Killing brings too much heat from the sheriff and the Legion. It’s not worth it. Please don’t kill me.”
“I think we should let him go,” commented the second biker. “He’s a good guy. He won’t rat on us. What do you say?”
“That’s right!” pleaded Grant. “I’m not a rat! I won’t tell anyone anything. That money means nothing to me. There’s so much more where that came from, I won’t even miss it. Please!”
“So you’re not a rat?” asked the first biker. “You’re a righteous dude?”
“I’ve never ratted on anyone in my life,” said Grant. “Bad things happen to rats.”
“I guess you’re right,” said the biker, sticking his gun in his belt. “There’s no reason to kill you. Come on. Quit crying. A grown man shouldn’t cry like that. Compose yourself.”
“So you’re not going to shoot me?” asked Grant, new hope surging through him. “God bless you.”
“I didn’t say that,” said the biker. “Don’t bring God into it. I just said there is no reason to kill you. Let me think about it a moment. Oops, your moment is up. Lights out!”
The biker shot Grant. Grant held his hand up pleading for his life, but the biker shot him anyway. The bullet passed through the palm of Grant’s hand, and deflected just enough to miss Grant’s face. Grant fell back into the urinal. He closed his eyes and prepared to die. As the Biker aimed for another shot, a crowd of noisy drunks burst in to the restroom. The biker hid his gun under his coat.
“What happened to him?’ asked a drunk, as he urinated in the next stall. “Is he hurt?”
“I think he’s just drunk,” said the biker. “He fell in and hit his head.”
“That’s happened to me once!” the drunk admitted, laughing.
“He’s Danny Grant!” said another drunk. “Someone help him up!”
The two robbers fled before anyone realized what had happened. Later, Grant told the police what he could remember and identified the suspects from video surveillance recordings. The suspects were known to the police, but could not be found. Grant put up a one hundred thousand dollar reward for information leading to the death of both suspects.
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Chapter 18
General Daly, President Kalipetsis of the United States of New Colorado, Major Lopez, and I studied the scorpion space probe plaque with interest. We would base our decisions on its data.
“It says they are coming here in large numbers,” commented Major Lopez. “The question is, whether they come in peace.”
“A billion colonists is the same as an invasion,” said General Daly. “That will not be allowed to happen.”
“Why did they attempt to introduce themselves with broadcasts and with this plaque?” I asked. “This is not a surrender demand. It’s not a sneak attack like what the spiders did. This is an introduction to their culture and civilization. There is even a map.”
“Some culture,” said General Daly. “They’re perverts. Look at all those humping scorpions! Anyway, it doesn’t matter. They’re coming. The spiders have already located their space fleet. It’s huge. I’ve seen the photos. It stretches for thousands of miles, a giant comet of locusts pointed like a dagger at New Colorado.”
“We will not share our planet with another bug species,” added President Kalipetsis. “We were here first!”
“Then we are all in agreement,” said General Daly. “We unite with the spiders and fight this invasion together. There will be no more bickering among ourselves along the border.”
“You intend to inform the public?” I asked. “Won’t that cause panic? We do not need the distraction of riots in the streets.”
“He has a good point,” said President Kalipetsis. “This should be hushed up for as long as possible.”
“We have to assume the enemy is monitoring our electronic transmissions,” advised Major Lopez. “Their scout ships are probably already here, watching for massive troop movements. Informing the public will only give away our intentions and hinder our battle strategy.”
“I agree,” said General Daly. “The public and media will not be told yet. The Joint Chiefs of Staff have promised me reinforcements. Troops will stage in hidden bases on the far side of the moon. We will keep this quiet for as long as possible.”
* * * * *
Phil Coen of Channel Five World News Tonight met with General Daly at Legion Headquarters in New Phoenix City. It was a cordial meeting at first.
“Recently all military leave was cancelled,” commented Coen. “Also, I noticed some limited evacuation of military dependants, including your wife and children. Any comments? What’s up?”
“Nothing is up,” replied General Daly. “This year we will be conducting joint training maneuvers with our Arthropodan allies. I am very excited about this new level of cooperation and dialogue with the spiders. Because I plan on being very busy for the next month or so, my wife decided to spend that time visiting her lovely mother. I regret not being able to make the trip to Old Earth with her.”
“Rumors abound on what is really happening,” said Coen. “Is all peaceful on the Coleopteran Federation front?”
“Yes, of course,” replied General Daly. “I had the Beetle Ambassador and his family over for dinner just the other day. The beetles love us, and we, of course, love the beetles.”
“I talked to the spider Governor of the North Territory, and he is as cheerful as you are,” commented Coen. “Yet the spiders have cancelled all military leave, too. Please tell me that we are not going to war again with the Arthropodan Empire.”
“Read my lips,” said General Daly. “We are not going to war with Arthropoda again.”
“Recently there was a prisoner exchange at the MDL in New Gobi City,” said Coen. “What was that all about?”
“Some American hikers strayed over the border in Jellystone National Park and were arrested by the spiders for illegal entry,” explained General Daly. “Successful diplomatic efforts secured their release.”
“What about reports of a satellite being shot down?” asked Coen. “And don’t tell me more lies about space junk and deteriorating orbits. Too many people saw lightning knock the satellite out of the sky.”
“Then you know as much about it as I do,” said General Daly. “We are not missing any satellites.”
“That is exactly what the spider governor claimed!” said Coen. “How can neither of you be missing any satellites? Somewhere, someone is missing a damn satellite! The truth will come out eventually. I promise that!”
“Satellites are expensive,” said General Daly. “I promise you that if I was missing a satellite, I would know about it. Trust me on that.”
“There are rumors that a joint legion-spider task force was seen recovering part of the satellite in the Gila Hills,” said Coen. “Explain that.”
“No,” said General Daly. “I told you we are about to start joint maneuvers. Perhaps you are referring to one of the advance teams working on logistics for the upcoming operations.”
“Where are our space fleets?” asked Coen. “They seem to have disap
peared and have cancelled all leave, too. Are they operating on the dark side of the moon?”
“I’m just a grunt,” said General Daly. “I don’t keep track of what Space Fleet is doing.”
* * * * *
The spider commander visited me again at Legion Headquarters. This was becoming a habit. He was hoping for another sure-thing tip from Texas Red. I told him I had nothing yet. I also told the spider commander to stop parking in no-parking zones, but he never listens to good advice. Now, he was complaining about parking tickets.
“The world may be coming to an end, and you’re bitching to me about parking tickets?” I asked. “Get real.”
“What?” asked the spider commander. “What are you talking about – the end of the world? Are you threatening me?”
“Your governor didn’t warn you?” I asked. “That’s just great!”
“Have you gone mad?” asked the spider commander. “Are you going to take care of these parking tickets or not? If you don’t do something about that sheriff, I will! He knows what my car looks like and should not be ticketing it. I have diplomatic immunity.”
“Civilian law enforcement operates separately from the Legion,” I said. “Take care of your own parking tickets. Pay the fine!”
“I will not!” he insisted.
I looked through my telescope at the sky. Still nothing. I paced in frustration, with frayed nerves.
“What is so interesting that you keep looking through that telescope?” asked the spider commander. “What are you looking for?”
“Did you know a comet will pass by New Colorado soon?” I asked. “We should be able to see it any day now.”
“I’ve heard rumors,” said the spider commander. “Comet – my poop chute! Does your comet have anything to do with that star chart from the alien space probe plaque?”
“What makes you ask that?”
“I want to see that plaque again.”
“I no longer have it. The scientists took it. They’re studying it with your scientists.”
“Do you think those scorpions are coming here?” asked the spider commander. “Is that what you meant about the end of the world? Is that what you are looking for with your telescope?”
“No,” I answered.
“You human pestilence do not lie well,” said the spider commander. “Your face twitches and contorts with every thought. What did my governor not tell me?”
“Nothing you need to know.”
“That’s what I was told when I asked whose satellite I shot down,” commented the spider commander. “Now you say I don’t need to know about scorpions invading New Colorado?”
“Whatever happens will be decided in space,” I said. “You and I need to carry on like we always have, and trust the Fleet to stop the scorpions.”
“That is insane,” responded the spider commander, now pacing. “How can I conduct business as usual when we are about to be invaded? We should at least be digging in! I will dig deep into the planet’s core if I have to.”
“Go ahead, burrow like a mole,” I said. “It won’t help.”
“Humanity couldn’t blast us off this planet with all your nuclear bombs,” boasted the spider commander. “I’ll be damned if a bunch of pervert scorpions will. We need to warn the whole planet what is coming. We need the entire population mobilized to prepare!”
“What you need to do is take care of those parking tickets,” I warned. “If not, don’t expect me to bail you out!”
* * * * *
The spider commander was ordered by the Governor to of the North Territory to not inform the public about the approaching Scorpion Fleet. He said it would cause undue and unnecessary panic on both sides of the MDL. However, all local commanders were told to make prudent defensive preparations, should the fight reach the planet’s surface.
The spider commander ordered all residents to harden their habitats to ensure survival from nuclear blasts. His order did not draw too much attention, because New Gobi City was already honeycombed with tunnels and bunkers. The spiders’ ancient instinct to seek safety by digging was ingrained in them, even in modern times. ‘Spider holes’ were already a part of the architecture and local building codes. Even so, the spider commander ordered spider holes dug deeper into the bedrock.
Arthropodan marine inspectors came by each residence and business to make sure shelters exceeded previous standards. Some residents complained that this was all unnecessary, because the Legion didn’t use nukes anymore. They were told, “You have to prepare for more than just the Legion.”
The spider commander also organized a massive air raid drill. Sirens blared from towers throughout the city. They could be heard well across the MDL. Guido looked in amazement at the abandoned streets on the Arthropodan side.
“Spider efficiency when it comes to following orders is staggering,” commented Guido. “They are like robots. There is no one above ground during this drill.”
“That is because we spiders value an orderly society more than you chaotic human pestilence,” replied Mountain Claw. “Everyone believes in working together to make the nest run properly.”
“Whatever,” said Guido. “I know better. What are you doing here?”
“Major Lopez sent me to pick up his Arthropodan Marine armored car,” replied Mountain Claw. “I am to drive it to the marine motor pool across the MDL to get the air-conditioner fixed.”
Guido tossed Mountain Claw the keys. He had wondered when he sold Lopez the spider armored car if Lopez would eventually complain about the defective air-conditioner. Guido had promised that the air-conditioning system worked fine. Oh well. If Major Lopez wanted a warranty, he could buy a toaster.
Mountain Claw drove down the deserted streets. The ‘all clear’ signal had not yet been given, and everyone was still underground, secured in their spider holes. The excitement of the moment overtook Mountain Claw. Later he might plead insanity. For now, there was no going back. A Legion psychologist once diagnosed Mountain Claw as having ‘inappropriate impulse syndrome,’ so the foundation for an insanity defense was already in place. Mountain Claw revved up the engine and crashed the armored car through the front wall of the largest jewelry store on the Arthropodan side of New Gobi City.
Once inside, Mountain Claw scooped up jewelry strewn about the smashed display cases. Mountain Claw put a chain around a safe that had been knocked off its foundation, and winched it into the back of the armored car. Then he drove unmolested back to the border crossing checkpoint. Guido waved him through.
“The motor pool was closed due to the air-raid drill,” explained Mountain Claw. “I am taking the armored car to our own motor pool.”
* * * * *
The spider commander viewed the surveillance-camera recordings of the largest jewelry heist in New Colorado history. The markings on the Arthropodan marine armored car had been painted over. The spider driving it wore a generic auto mechanic’s coveralls. The spider commander wondered, Was that the same armored car I gave up to Guido? He did not want that part of the crime investigated, and had video at the border checkpoint wiped clean. The spider commander informed his military intelligence officer that this crime was probably unsolvable. The military intelligence officer agreed.
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Chapter 19
Robert Acosta recognized the two robbery suspects from reward posters Danny Grant had distributed everywhere. The suspects’ photos were even printed on the back of Outlaw Beer cans. Acosta called Grant and told him the suspects were drinking at a biker bar in Gila City called the Broken Wheel.
Grant came immediately. He watched as one of the bikers went to use the restroom. The other biker stayed at the bar, making small talk with Lydia. Grant followed the biker to the restroom and shot him in the back of both knee caps. The fallen biker looked up from the urinal in recognition. “It’s you!” he shouted. “Let me live. I was the one who argued for saving your life. It was my partner who shot you. Not me! Remember?”
“Yeah, I
remember,” said Grant. “I want to thank you for trying to help me.”
“So, you will let me live?” asked the biker.
“No,” said Grant, shooting the biker in the face. Grant then took a small knife and pinned a fifty-dollar bill to the biker’s chest. President Ulysses S. Grant stared up from the fifty. A smile had been drawn on President Grant’s face.
The shots caused a commotion in the tavern. A crowd of customers rushed to the restroom. By then Grant had already escaped out a back window. The other biker turned pale when he saw his partner. The symbolism of the smiling President Grant was not lost on the biker. He fled the restroom in horror. Lydia grabbed his arm and pulled him to her.
“I can see you’re upset about your buddy,” she said. “If you don’t want to stick around and talk to the cops, you can stay at my place until the heat dies down. It’s safe there. What do you say, lover?”
“Yeah,” replied the biker. “That’s a good idea.”
Lydia rode on the back of the biker’s Harley to her apartment. As they entered through the doorway, Danny Grant slipped a wire garrote around the biker’s neck and tightened it while Acosta hit the biker with a baseball bat. Just before the biker died, Grant looked him in the eye and said, “Sorry dude, I have to kill you. It’s personal.”
* * * * *
I urged General Daly to revoke Danny Grant’s pardon for the vigilante killing of the two robbery suspects. General Daly refused, saying he needed conclusive evidence to revoke the pardon of such a public figure. Surveillance video from the Broken Wheel Tavern had been lost. The garroted biker had been found dumped on the other side of town, a smiling fifty-dollar bill stuck to his chest too. There was no direct evidence linking either murder to Grant, and no one cared anyway. It just meant two fewer thugs were loose on society.
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