“Whatever,” said Major Lopez. “You’ve been hanging around those spiders too long. I have acres upon acres of vegetables, oranges, apples, grapefruit, limes, nuts, grapes, and strawberries. You name it, and I grow it. But I have no pickers. Next year I will import fruit-picking robotic technology from Old Earth. My machines will be out there picking and vacuuming fruit twenty-four-seven. But this year I am in a bind. Because I am new to the farming business, I got caught unprepared for the massive labor shortage we have on New Colorado.”
“I do not pick fruit,” stated the scorpion commander. “Neither do my troops.”
“I have lettuce too,” added Major Lopez. “And these onions you are standing in. Your pincers will be perfect for cutting lettuce. I expect that you will be great in the orchards. You scorpions are lightweight, climb trees effortlessly, and never get tired. You are quick and don’t eat or shit much. In short, you’re perfect produce pickers.”
“Why should I help you?” asked the scorpion commander. “How much do we get paid?”
“No pay!” answered Major Lopez sharply. “I have serious cash flow problems. I can only pay you with goodwill. Goodwill can be very valuable.”
“I thought the United States Galactic Federation outlawed slavery a long time ago,” argued the scorpion commander. “I have been doing research on your database. The Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution prohibits slavery. That fact was in my citizenship study pamphlet, too. We will not be slaves. This is illegal!”
“So now you think you are a lawyer?” asked Major Lopez, angrily. “You are now an expert on Colonial Law? The Thirteenth Amendment prohibits involuntary servitude, except as punishment for a crime. You got caught committing conspiracy and treason. Do not bother to deny it. Listen to me. I am your best friend in this matter. General Daly suggested turning you all over to the spiders. Colonel Czerinski wants to nuke the lot of you to set an example. Others think you should all be interned indefinitely. But I convinced them all to let you work off your debt to society because your plotting never had a serious chance of success, anyway. I was your only advocate in this matter. I am offering you a fair deal, not slavery. You owe me!”
“I accept your fair deal,” said the scorpion commander. “We will pick your fruit, but only for one season.” “That is all I want. And you will harvest the lettuce, onions, and other vegetables.” “Agreed,” said the scorpion commander. “There are hayfields and cattle, too,” said Major Lopez. “It’s a big hacienda. And the buildings need to be painted.” “One season is all you get,” repeated the scorpion commander. “Your parole is conditional upon continued good behavior,” warned Major Lopez. “We have destroyed scorpion scout ships in orbit. There will be no further attempts to coordinate attacks on New Colorado. If diplomatic relations are ever established between our two nations, you may be repatriated if you wish. But I doubt that will happen anytime soon.”
“Agreed,” repeated the scorpion commander. “I no longer want to leave, anyway.”
“One other thing,” said Major Lopez. “When you were arrested by Sergeant Williams, you made a comment about a discovery of oil. Is that true?”
“We were given a deed to our new land,” advised the scorpion commander. “Do not even think about trying to take it back.”
“I was just asking,” said Major Lopez, defensively. “Owning a deed to land, and owning the mineral and water rights beneath it, can be two different things. That is especially true in a National Park.”
“I will have a human lawyer check on that,” warned the scorpion commander. “And I will email Smokey the Bear. Thank you for your concern.”
Chapter 7
J. J. Valdez, Exxon Corporation Senior Vice President in Charge of Colonial Oil Exploration, met with the scorpion commander to discuss oil development rights on scorpion land. “Our vast oil drilling experience will ensure safe and efficient development of your oil,” promised J. J. Valdez. “The Exxon Corporation has a long, proud history of environmentally sound exploration, extraction, and transportation techniques dating back to wildcat days on Old Earth. Your assets will be in good hands.”
“That is good,” said the scorpion commander. “I am already on strict conditional probation. Your oil teams will not disturb the buffalo?”
“It is scientifically proven that buffalo enjoy grazing next to oil derricks,” assured J. J. “The humming soothes them and motivates mating.”
“And drilling will not harm the prairie dogs?” asked the scorpion commander.
“Our equipment is certified to be prairie dog friendly,” promised J. J.
“Will you be able to obtain the necessary permits from the Forest Service in a timely manner?” asked the scorpion commander. “I can’t make heads or tails out of these environmental impact statement forms they gave me.”
“We have legal teams standing by,” said J. J. “I am a personal friend of Smokey the Bear. I do not anticipate any problems getting the proper permits. We have an excellent working relationship with the Forest Service. We have also signed similar deals with the spiders.”
“You have contacts with the spiders?” asked the scorpion commander. “Perhaps you could do me a favor and make informal inquiries for me about the status of our missing soldiers. We are disbanding our military here on New Colorado in favor of civilian institutions and organizations. But MIAs are still an issue. The Legion says the spiders refuse to discuss the matter because we are technically still at war.”
“I will be more than happy to make inquiries,” promised J. J. “The spider commander is a personal friend of mine, too. He will be happy to hear you are disbanding your military.”
“There is still interest in forming a human-style local militia for defense against bandits and poachers,” added the scorpion commander. “Some of our youth even want to form a National Guard unit or join the Foreign Legion.”
“I’ll pass that interesting tidbit of information along to my friend Colonel Czerinski,” advised J. J. “Czerinski is always glad to hear about new enlistment possibilities and sources. We also will need to open bank accounts to facilitate your royalty payments. I noticed a new Bank of America right here in Scorpion City.”
“Progress marches on,” commented the scorpion commander. “Our new bank even has an ATM. My XO is already checking on financial arrangements at the bank. He will contact you soon.”
* * * * *
The scorpion XO had been watching the new Bank of America branch all week. He was shocked to learn that both humans and spiders hoarded their money in these banks, and they expected scorpions to do the same. Back home, scorpions kept their money secure in underground vaults, or under mattresses. These flimsy aboveground bank buildings did not seem at all secure. Indeed, human database research proved this very point. After viewing several old Fox/Turner movies, the scorpion XO was convinced more than ever that making deposits in human banks was a big mistake.
To test his theory, the XO assembled a team of scorpion cowboys to make a withdrawal. He used database cinema movies about Dillinger, Bonnie and Clyde, and Jesse James as training films. They planned to combine the best ideas of all three groups of outlaws. On payday, the XO would ride into town on horseback with his gang, firing machine guns, and rob the Bank of America. They would escape into the hills just ahead of the posse. This could work, he told himself.
* * * * *
The scorpion commander, just back from his moonlighting job in farm-management consulting, viewed the surveillance camera images with me of the recent Bank of America robbery. It showed heavily armed scorpions on horseback, disguised wearing cowboy hats and scarf masks, swarming into the lobby of the Bank of America. Their leader fired a military assault rifle into the ceiling as they left with bags of cash. The bandits rode their horses hard out of town, where they escaped down endless tunnels.
“Who was that masked scorpion?” I asked. “Anyone you recognize?”
“How should I know?” objected the
scorpion commander. “If you keep that much money in one place, it is bound to draw bandits. This incident underscores our need to establish a militia for self-defense. Obviously the Legion and the Marine Corps are not equipped or prepared to effectively fight local crime.”
“You do not need a militia,” I responded. “You will elect or appoint a sheriff. I will assist by building a county jail. The Legion will provide a judiciary until your civil institutions become more established. Until then, welcome to the Wild-Wild West.”
“What are you going to do about those bank robbers?” demanded the scorpion commander.
“I am not a cop. I will assist in civil administration as much as possible. Do not take me for a fool. You know who executed that robbery. And if you don’t, you soon will. It is up to you to establish law and order in your community. If you want to live under the rule of law, you will have to set precedent yourself. Any action I take will be harsh, but its effect will still just be short-term. Scorpion City is your home, not mine. I will leave soon, and I’ll be glad to go. You will stay.”
* * * * *
Exxon Senior Vice President in Charge of Colonial Oil Exploration J. J. Valdez arranged three-way negotiations between the Legion, the scorpion commander, and the spider commander. We met at the Walmart Convention Center conference room at New Gobi City.
“Oil experts from both sides of the MDL are willing to assist in exploitation of oil reserves located under the Jellystone field,” announced J. J. Valdez. “Today we can coordinate not only the extraction process, but also transportation, refining, environmental impact, and marketing.”
“I see no problems from our side,” said the spider commander. “I believe in free trade.”
“There are still some issues to be worked out,” commented the scorpion commander. “But I am sure our aides can handle the details. It’s mostly border crossing matters.”
“Screw these talks about goddamned oil!” shouted the scorpion XO, pointing his stinger at the spider commander. “We want our captured soldiers released! Now!”
All present rose to their feet as the confrontation got more intense. Channel Five World News Tonight camera crews zoomed in on the reactions of the negotiators.
“I do not know what you are talking about,” replied the spider commander. “All surviving scorpion combatants were repatriated through the human pestilence Legion.”
“That had better not be true,” said the XO. “If we find out that you massacred over three hundred thousand prisoners, there will be a bloodbath in the New Gobi, the likes of which you have never imagined possible.”
“Do not threaten me!” warned the spider commander. “Who do you think you are? You are just an aide. Does he speak for the rest of you scorpions?”
“This is my XO,” explained the scorpion commander. “The MIAs are an important issue to us all, but my XO was out of line. I apologize for that. He was not authorized to threaten you. He will be disciplined for his outburst.”
“I will threaten anyone I want!” said the XO, turning his back to his superior officer. “And I apologize for nothing. Unlike your civilians, ours can become soldiers at a moment’s notice. If you do not return our MIAs, a scorpion army half a million strong will sweep across the border into the New Gobi. You do not have the military capacity to stop us. Your Bread Basket of the Galaxy will be burned to the ground!”
“How would you like to be nuked?” responded the spider commander. “I should have done that a long time ago!”
“Now see here,” interrupted General Daly. “The scorpions are under our protection. They have been granted citizenship, conditional upon good behavior. You will not be nuking them.”
“The Arthropodan Empire has the right to defend its borders,” argued the spider commander. “Preemptive strikes against terrorists are standard policy for both the Arthropodan Empire and the United States Galactic Federation. We have a treaty agreement expressly stating so.”
“Everyone needs to calm down,” advised General Daly, as they all sat down again. “This young hothead scorpion does have a point. You are holding MIAs. A lot of them.”
“Hostilities have not ended,” explained the spider commander. “The scorpions are building a new invasion fleet. We will take the war to their home world if necessary. And humanity has committed to joining us. We cannot have these scorpions stabbing us in the back!”
“Is that true?” asked the scorpion commander. “You intend to attack our home world? You would exterminate us all?”
“I am not privy to galactic strategic planning,” answered General Daly. “And neither is the spider commander. We need to focus on local issues.”
“I want the Red Cross to inspect prison camp conditions and check the welfare of captured soldiers,” demanded the scorpion commander. “I want video interviews broadcast to me live. I want that now.”
“Impossible,” said the spider commander.
“Their request sounds reasonable,” I pointed out. “Don’t you remember making similar requests when the Legion captured spider troops? So many of you spiders surrendered, we couldn’t keep track of them all.”
“You spiders? What I remember is the Butcher of New Colorado murdering prisoners,” responded the spider commander.
“Only rioters were killed at that prison,” I replied. “What have you done with the captured scorpion soldiers? I’ll bet you are working them to death in your Imperial mines. And you call yourselves civilized?”
“That is an internal matter that is no business of the Legion,” argued the spider commander. “I cannot comment on such details because of security concerns.”
“This meeting is over!” announced the scorpion commander. “There will be no trade agreements or normalization of relations with the Arthropodan Empire until the safety and welfare of my missing soldiers is guaranteed by neutral Red Cross workers!”
The meeting broke up. TV lights and camera were taken away. However, now was when the real negotiations were expected to take place between the commanders and their aides. General Daly and the spider and scorpion commanders rushed off to the catered buffet. Major Lopez and the scorpion XO began intense discussions off in a corner. A junior scorpion officer scooped up drinks in each hand and stood in front of me, waiting. I grabbed a couple of vodka bottles and motioned to a side conference room. As I closed the door behind us, the scorpion spit a yellow-green acid spray in my face. The toxic mixture blinded me in one eye – temporarily, I hoped – as I fell to my knees, weakened by its effect. I reached for my pistol. Too late! The scorpion snatched the pistol from my holster, now looming over me with its stinger poised.
“Why?” I asked, desperately. “We’re allies. I tried to advance your position in good faith during negotiations.”
“You did so admirably,” replied the scorpion. “I greatly appreciate your efforts. I did not intend to injure you. I forgot how fragile you humans can be. Are you okay, dear?”
“Dear? What did you spray me with? Why did you take my gun?”
“I took your gun because you humans are so volatile, I did not want to take the chance of an accidental discharge,” the scorpion giggle-hissed. “Are you feeling the full effect of the spray yet?”
“Just pain,” I complained, still stunned. “My eyes hurt like hell. You sprayed me with acid! Why would you do that?”
“I am so sorry, Colonel Czerinski. It was not my intent to cause harm. Usually the pheromones have a positive effect. Give them time.”
“So you said before,” I replied, uneasily. For the first time I noticed the scorpion’s translator box broadcast in a female voice. I hoped that was a quirky malfunction.
“When you suggestively signaled me to rendezvous with you in this private room, I was of course flattered that you would so boldly initiate mating rituals,” explained the female scorpion. “Everyone knows from talking to your USGF marines that you are into interspecies dating. I thought we could be the first human-scorpion coupli
ng that survived first contact.”
As she raised her stinger again, I scrambled back against the wall, trying to avoid certain death. “You thought wrong!” I shouted, hoping to draw attention from outside. “I was told that stinging is part of your mating process. Don’t even think about stinging me! Your sting is deadly to me.”
“That is truly a shame,” said the female scorpion, sighing. “The hallucinatory effect of my venom is sexually enhancing. It delightfully prolongs and heightens the experience.”
“I’m sure. But it only works on other scorpions. It would kill me!”
“Perhaps if I decreased the dosage,” suggested the female scorpion, hopefully.
“That’s too risky. I am not interested in sex with scorpions, anyway. What makes you think I would be even remotely agreeable to such an idea?”
“You have a reputation,” answered the female scorpion. “Remember? You are such a tease.”
“May I have my gun back?” I asked, innocently.
“Not yet.” Her tail was twitching, now. “I have a lot of influence with my commander and his XO. They find me attractive. If you consent to sex, I will use my influence to modify their negotiation positions. We might even prevent another war.”
“You can’t be serious. That would be wrong in so many ways.”
“I heard you are a bad boy...” The female scorpion caressed my leg with a claw, scaring the hell out of me. “Prove it! I love bad boys, especially those with big guns. Give in to me. Do it for world peace. Do it for galactic peace.”
“For world peace,” I agreed, nodding my head, but still terrified. I popped some blue pills, washing them down with vodka. As I gave the scorpion babe a tentative kiss, she stung me.
* * * * *
A young scorpion, grenade in claw, followed the Legion armored car as it drove to the parking lot at Taco Bell. He loitered by the tables out front, waiting for an opportunity. Soon, Legionnaires came out to enjoy their lunch in the bright fresh air.
Allies Page 5
