Embassy War

by Walter Knight

  “I do not drink nor date human pestilence fur balls,” replied the closest female, a red-shelled spider beauty adorned with pierced jewelry. “I am an old fashioned female. You smell awful. Go away!”

  “Excuse my human pestilence friend,” apologized Corporal Wayne, stepping up to the plate. “Krueger cannot hold his liquor and has no manners. I love your stunning red exoskeleton. Is that your natural shell color? What is your name, and where have you been all my life?”

  “My name is Fire Claw,” announced the female spider. “Obviously you have been with the human pestilence way too long, boldly making the first move. I am way too hot for either of you. Get lost!”

  “Your lovely eyes are the most beautiful shade of orange in all the galaxy,” continued Wayne, not to be deterred. “They remind me of sunset on Mars. Are you wearing contacts? Your spiny legs are to die for. How about you and I hook up on the roof for some fresh air?”

  Fire Claw slapped Corporal Wayne across his mandibles, knocking him into another female spider. Wayne looked up at his new desire. “I love the speckles you sprinkled on your antennae,” commented Wayne, lewdly. “May I touch?” Wayne got slapped again.

  “You have to be smooth,” advised Krueger, consoling his friend. “Watch the master and learn.”

  Krueger staggered down the bar line until stopping at a female spider sporting a Levi’s Hell’s Angels vest. “Do you like Harleys?” asked Krueger.

  “Yes,” answered the spider biker babe. “What is it to you?”

  “Me too,” replied Krueger. “Harleys are awesome. You love the feel of the road, and something exciting between your legs?”

  SLAP!

  “That was smooth?” chided Wayne, eying a perky black-clad platinum-yellow spider. He grabbed a segmented limb as she passed by. “You look just like my mother.”

  “You are so sweet!” exclaimed the yellow female spider. “Do you two work at the American Embassy?”

  “How can you tell?” slurred Krueger. “You look just like my mother, too, except for your red eyes, claws, and antennae. Got a sister?”

  “Your Legion uniforms are a dead giveaway,” answered the yellow spider. “We are both Heroes of the Legion,” advised Wayne. Another yellow spider sat next to Krueger, seductively placing a claw on his knee. “They’re twins!” exclaimed Krueger. “Do you know Colonel Czerinski?” asked the new female spider. “He is such a beast.” “Oh sure,” bragged Krueger. “Me and Czerinski are buddies. He’s here, hanging around somewhere.” “That movie about Czerinski, ‘Massacre at Habitat #40,’ was so scary!” commented the first yellow spider. “It is one of the classic horror flicks of all time. Do you human pestilence really eat babies?”

  “Only with tartar sauce,” replied Krueger.

  “You little fur ball cutie,” gushed the yellow spider next to Krueger. “My favorite nightmare horror fantasy is to have sex with a human pestilence at your Embassy on top of Colonel Czerinski’s desk.”

  “Not a problem,” said Krueger, paying the bartender for a six pack to go. He led the girls to the door.

  “We cannot sneak bimbos into the Embassy,” protested Wayne, following. “It would be a serious breach of security. What if these two are spies or terrorists?”

  “Then we will die happy,” replied Krueger, giving his date a kiss. She jumped into his arms, wrapping all eight limbs around Krueger as he carried her out the door. “You’re so hot, you can terrorize me any day.”

  Wayne, intertwined with his new love, waved down a taxi. “To the Nest of Spies!” he ordered the cabbie. “Make it fast!”

  * * * * *

  “I am so excited!” gushed Wayne’s new girlfriend as they arrived at the front gate of the American Embassy. They were confronted by Corporal Tonelli and Private Johnson.

  “Those two may not enter,” advised Guido. “No way in hell it’s going to happen.”

  “It’s Saturday night, and Czerinski has his two favorite legionnaires doing guard duty,” taunted Krueger. “Why am I not surprised? How’s it hanging, Skyhook?”

  “I will personally kick Czerinski’s ass for tricking me into joining the Legion,” groused Private Johnson. “Look at this uniform. It doesn’t even fit!” Skyhook held up sleeves that pulled up to his elbow.

  “Maybe a spider uniform would fit better,” suggested Krueger. “Open the gate!”

  “Spider civilians are not allowed inside without a pass,” insisted Guido. “Especially drunk female spiders.”

  “These two spider hotties want to trash Czerinski” office,” advised Krueger in a hushed conspiratorial tone. “Come on, call it payback.”

  Guido nodded to Corporal Wayne. “I can understand Krueger being this stupid, but what’s your excuse?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” replied Corporal Wayne, sheepishly. “They are hot, and twins. What do you care if we have some fun in Czerinski’s office? I will owe you one.”

  “You may pass,” announced Skyhook, pressing the button that opened the front gate. “Trash Czerinski’s office good. Loose a nasty spider mess on his chair for me.”

  Krueger and Wayne pushed past Guido with their dates in tow. Guido only gave a mild protest, resigned to the fact they would all probably be shot for treason in the morning.

  Krueger kicked in the office door, rolling onto his commander’s desk with his wild yellow spider clutching him with all eight limbs. The entire sordid affair was recorded by a security camera and broadcast by hackers on the Galactic Database and the Spider TV Playboy Channel.

  * * * * *

  At company formation the next morning, Master Sergeant Green reviewed the troops. Sergeant Green was not happy, with even more of an edge in his voice than usual. “Privates Wayne and Krueger, front and center!” he ordered.

  Wayne and Krueger hustled to the front of the formation, standing at attention. Wayne said nothing. He knew.

  “Excuse me, Master Sergeant Green, but I’m a corporal,” advised Krueger.

  “Shut up, you little piss-ant fool!” yelled Sergeant Green as he tore off Krueger’s stripes. “Both of you screw-ups are assigned permanently to KP punishment detail. I hope your little party last night was worth it!”

  back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 5

  During my office clean-up, I found an alien listening device. Scans located several more. After reviewing the video, I returned to the Flaming Mantidae, searching for the two female spider spies. It was early, and the tavern was starting to fill up. The spider bartender slid me my usual drink.

  “Want to buy a toaster?” I asked, hoping to trade a toaster for free drinks.

  “I already own one of your worthless human pestilence bread burners,” groused the spider bartender. “My wife loves it. I hate toast. Toast is too dry. True males should eat meat, the bloodier the better.”

  “Try putting jam on your toast,” I suggested. “I foresee the day when every modern household on Arthropoda has a General Electric toaster in its kitchen.”

  “I feel like we are being invaded by you human pestilence.” “How’s the action tonight?” I asked, changing the subject. “Any hot babes?” “None you could handle.” “I heard about a pair of platinum-yellow-shelled twins. The rumor is, they’re real wild things.” “I would not know,” replied the bartender, stiffening. He obviously did not approve of inter-species dating. “Those two hustle pool on the weekends. Mess with them, and they will eat you for not measuring up.”

  As if on cue, the platinum twins arrived, immediately claiming a pool table. I grabbed a stick and sauntered over for a game. “Dollar a ball?” I asked.

  “Don’t waste my time or your money,” replied one of the twins. “You human pestilence cannot play pool. You fidget too much to adequately steady your cue.”

  “I’ll try to muddle along. Pool was invented by us humans. There is no way you can beat me. How about a hundred dollars a ball?” “Rack ’em!” commanded the other twin. “Your balls will be mine!” “What?” “I w
ill even let you go first, human pestilence.” State-of-the-art micro chips embedded in my bones greatly enhanced my hand-to-eye coordination and reflexes, among other things. However, spiders with their eight eyes and limbs, had a distinct advantage in eye-claw coordination. Spiders were natural pool players. They were also born compulsive gamblers.

  I lost money the first two games. My lovely twin adversary pranced about, celebrating her victories over the human pestilence, playing to the crowd. “Next!” she boasted, challenging all comers.

  “How about we up the stakes?” I suggested. “How about a thousand dollars a ball?” “I cannot cover that bet,” advised my opponent. “I doubt you can either. I thought all you wanted was a friendly game.” I flashed my cash. “If you lose, we’ll figure out a trade.” The lovely twins made eye contact only briefly, then nodded. “Rack ’em, human pestilence. This should be easy money!” The twins did a little cha-cha dance for the crowd.

  This time I played better. Humans not only invented pool, we also invented the hustle, and it was time to school these lovely aliens. The twins watched dejectedly as I ran the table and racked the balls for a new game.

  “My place or yours?” I asked, after several games.

  “You work at the Embassy?” asked one of the twins. I lost track of which one was which. “Do you know Corporals Willie Krueger and John Iwo Jima Wayne?”

  “Willie and John are my best friends!” I exclaimed as we left, hand in claw.

  * * * * *

  Corporal Tonelli saluted and waved our cab through the Embassy gate. Sergeant Green and a squad of legionnaires were waiting as we stopped at the Administration Building. Placed under arrest, the twins were dragged, kicking and screaming, downstairs to the dungeon.

  Interrogation began immediately. I separated the twins, hoping they would be more pliable without each other’s support.

  * * * * *

  “We have been abducted by humans!” broadcast the twin left alone in her cell. She activated a distress beacon embedded in the backside of her exoskeleton. The hidden transmitter had been secreted up an orifice probes could not find.

  Soon Arthropodan marine commandos smashed through the dungeon floor from tunnels already dug for just such a rescue purpose, freeing their comrade. “You are very lucky,” advised a spider marine team leader. “The human pestilence usually eat their prisoners, after torturing them over burning coals.”

  “What about my sister?” asked the yellow spider. “She is still upstairs. That Czerinski took her away.”

  “We cannot stay,” insisted the team leader. “The Legion may return any minute. Also, ghosts haunt the human pestilence underground. Humanity brought its spirits of the dead with them from Old Earth to guard this dungeon.”

  “Nonsense!” replied the twin. “I order you to rescue my sister!”

  “We have video documentation of a robed skeletal humanoid spirit carrying a scythe inhabiting the underground. It has even broken into our sewers. If not a ghost, what then?”

  The twin hesitated, having seen the top secret video, too. She doubted this sergeant had actually viewed anything of the sort. “Rumors spread by cowards like you!” she accused. “You whine and frighten like a hatchling.” The twin followed the marines back to their tunnels. “You have not heard the last of this. Cowards, all of you!”

  * * * * *

  I hung the yellow spider from a hook on the ceiling of the interrogation cell, watching in fascination as she swung back and forth, scratching and clawing at the hook, struggling to free herself.

  “Resistance is futile!” I announced in my deepest authoritative voice. I poked her with a stick, causing the spider to swivel round and round. “What was your mission?”

  “To become as drunk and disorderly as possible?” cried the blond spider. “Why are you being so mean?” “You bugged my office. What did you hope to accomplish by that? What information did you seek?” “Oh, lots of secrets, I suppose. You are a real party-pooper, Czerinski.” “Tell me the specifics of your mission, or I will cut off your spider legs and arms, and let you nub around on the floor like a slug,” I threatened, holding up a pair of hedge clippers. “I mean it!”

  “You would not dare,” she replied, pouting. “What’s a slug?” “She’s just a dumb blond,” offered Sergeant Green. “This is going nowhere.” “I heard that! I am smarter than I look!” “Prove it by telling me all you know about the Intelligentsia’s operation to penetrate this embassy,” I demanded, clipping the air with my hedge trimmers. “Talk!”

  “Okay, I will talk!” cried the yellow spider as I nipped off the tip of an antenna. “Ouch! I will tell you everything! We have a sewer intercept that captures your flushings. The Intelligentsia has been analyzing your shit for years. They found out your shit is flaky!”

  “Those bastards!” commented Sergeant Green, pacing back and forth. “What else?” I pressed. “When Santa Claus tries to land on your roof this Christmas, there are plans to shoot him down, along with his vermin reindeer.” “I thought so,” added Sergeant Green. “This is insane. The Intelligentsia is trying to start a war with their constant provocations.”

  “Not good enough,” I announced, tapping on her exoskeleton with the clippers. “We already knew about your plot to kill Mr. Claus. Have you viewed American Satellite TV infomercials demonstrating how these clippers perfectly slice and dice even the toughest vegetables?”

  “Wait!” cried the spider spy, finally sobering. “The Emperor himself ordered the Intelligentsia find out about your paranormal warfare program.”

  “Ghosts?” I asked. “There is no such thing.” “We have orders to capture your Grim Reaper.” “What do you know of the Grim Reaper?” asked Sergeant Green, grabbing the spider spy by the neck and shaking. “I know you human pestilence brought evil personified with you across the stars,” replied the spy. “Thanatos was on New Colorado, and now he is here, lurking in the underground.”

  Worried, I turned to Sergeant Green. “Get that other spider up here now. This is going to take some sorting out.”

  I cut the yellow spider down and removed her shackles. We were alone in the room now. “See? I can be reasonable, if you cooperate. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, I am famished!” she blurted out, obviously relieved that she would not die on the hook. I poured a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. “I’m sorry, but all we have down here is air raid shelter supplies.” “Oh, look!” exclaimed the yellow spider, seeming eager to please. “Donut seeds. I love donut seeds!” “The prisoner has escaped!” interrupted Sergeant Green over the intercom. “She broke out through a spider tunnel.”

  back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 6

  Welcome to Walmart, Colonel Czerinski,” said the ATM, cheerfully. “Are you a Sam’s Club member? We are giving free toasters to anyone who applies for a membership card.”

  “A Legion ATM moonlighting as a Walmart greeter?” I scoffed. “Has Legion recruitment sunk this low?” “This Walmart gig is just a cover for my real purpose,” explained the ATM. “The CIA has me spying on the spiders.” “At Walmart?” “You would be surprised what all goes on here. Why are you here? Nothing goes on sale until after Thanksgiving.” “Legion business,” I replied curtly. “Do you think you can keep your recruitment quotas up and spy for the CIA at the same time?” “Multi-tasking is my forte. Speaking of keeping quotas up, I am issuing you a platinum Sam’s Club card, usually only available to select customers. This card will get you a ten-percent discount on certain high-end purchases. You will be helping me with my cover.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said, pocketing the card and pushing my cart down the nearest isle. “Good luck being a spook.”

  Shopping went quickly. I knew exactly what I wanted. I soon stood in line at the cashier. My cart was full, containing a new office desk mat, several potted plants, and a deluxe model nuclear powered reactor, guaranteed to produce uninterrupted electrical power or my money back. I handed the spider cashier my VISA card.


  “There was no price tag on that reactor,” I commented. “Maybe it fell off? It’s supposed to be on sale.” “Do you have a newspaper clipping?” asked the spider cashier. “Did you not cut out a coupon?” “I don’t have a coupon,” I replied, looking about for a discarded newspaper. “Do you have a coupon I can use?” “No!” snapped the spider cashier. “Full price for you, human pestilence. Including sales tax, that will be 148,326.4 credits.” “But I am a platinum Sam’s Club member,” I boasted, triumphantly handing my card. “That’s good for a ten percent discount.” “Your card has yet to be activated. Full price for you, dog.” “What? This place is a rip-off!” “If you don’t like it, shop at Costco. Have a nice day.” “Fine!” I fumed, paying the bill and clutching my nuclear reactor under one arm, pushing my cart out the door with the other. “See if I ever shop here again!”

  “Excuse me, human pestilence, sir. Got any spare change?” asked a spider bum in the parking lot. “I lost my job and wallet in the flood, and now I am homeless.”

  “Flood? Arthropoda is a desert planet. Get lost, spider!”

  “Hey, I know you!” accused the spider bum. “You are the human pestilence that got me evicted from my dipsty dumpster years ago when I complained about you trying to hide a nuke in my home! The Intelligentsia did not believe me!”

  “That was Lopez, not me.” “Whatever. All you human pestilence look alike! Can you spare some change, or not?” “No!”

  * * * * *

  My cab was gone, so I decided to go native and take the bus.

  “One credit for a seat, or a half credit to ride on top,” advised an amicable spider bus driver, just finishing his lunch. “No eating inside.”