I glanced up top. No one was riding on the roof, but there were no hand rails, so I forked over one credit. I sat comfortably between two spider passengers. I stuffed my nuclear generator under the seat. Being the only human riding, I stared straight ahead, not wanting to make eye contact.
At the next stop, the bus filled up. A few more spiders climbed up onto the roof. Halfway to the Embassy, the bus lurched to a stop, and the doors burst open. Finally some relief!
Instead of spiders departing, more passengers rushed in, clawing and elbowing their way over the top of those already seated. Spiders stacked themselves to the ceiling. Their breath was stifling, and the body odor rose to an intolerable level. Several younger spiders started mating. It was too much!
“Help!” I shouted. “I can’t breathe! I’m dying back here!”
“Shut up, human pestilence!” replied the bus driver. “You smell bad enough without being a complainer too!”
At the next stop, even more spiders boarded, squeezing in to the ceiling. As the bus started, a fight broke out at the door, leaving several spiders barely hanging onto open windows from the outside.
Pressed from all sides, I farted long and loud. The bus cleared, leaving me alone for the rest of the trip to the Embassy.
* * * * *
The Grim Reaper entered the embassy dungeon through the spiders’ tunnel, searching corridors and stairs. Drawn by the energy of a Walmart nuclear reactor, Thanatos passed through solid walls and doors until he stood defiantly in the office of Colonel Joey R. Czerinski, a man who had escaped him many times in the past.
Death embraced the warmth of the reactor, stroking its shiny surface with long skeletal fingers. Fascinated by such a compact deadly device, he closely examined the reactor, pressing buttons, trying to cause a meltdown. Damn! Nothing happened!
Scornfully disregarding the instruction manual taped to the side of the reactor, the Grim Reaper slammed his scythe down upon the device. Still nothing happened. Double damn! Frustrated, he tucked the nuclear reactor under his black cape and passed through the wall. CRASH! The nuclear reactor dropped violently to the floor, unable to pass through solid concrete. It rolled across the room to a corner, where it started heating up. The Grim Reaper returned, picked up the nuclear reactor, and shook it. Something rattled inside. He shrugged, then set the nuclear reactor down. Another deadly device caught his eye.
This time the Grim Reaper was much more careful, reading through the extensive instruction manual and limited warranty. This known killer of countless innocents had proven its deadly worth. Even the Grim Reaper was hesitant to activate the device as he carefully plugged in the cord and pressed down on the lever.
Patiently the Grim Reaper waited for the magic to happen. Finally the toaster heated, but the lever popped up empty. Nothing! No toast popped up! Of course! He had forgotten to insert the food. Scanning the room, the Grim Reaper grabbed a handful of MREs from the desk, cramming them into the toaster and slamming down the lever. He stepped back, anticipating the worst.
POOF! The green eggs and ham caught fire. Soon toxic fumes filled the room. Quickly the Grim Reaper poured a half cup of discarded cold coffee onto the toaster. A blue electric arc shot out from the toaster, knocking him back. The building lights blinked twice as sparks flew across the room. The Grim Reaper struck the toaster again with his scythe, knocking it over. The burning MREs scattered about the desk, igniting a large disciplinary file labeled with Private John Iwo Jima Wayne’s name. Flames reached to the ceiling. Ashes floated to the carpet, igniting more fire. Soon the entire room was enveloped in fire and thick smoke.
The Grim Reaper panicked as his long black cape caught fire, and fled through the wall, cursing all humanity for their diabolical technology. He kicked the nuclear reactor. It rolled to a corner.
“Humanity thinks they can cheat Death of his due with machines and toys!” bellowed the Grim Reaper. “Never! Everyone dances with me eventually, even Czerinski!”
* * * * *
Fire alarm klaxons gave warning, but the fire on the top floor of the embassy was soon out of control. Legionnaires brought fire hoses to bear, but all was lost. We evacuated to an adjacent warehouse.
Spider sabotage was immediately suspected. Initial reports of the fire originating in my office heightened my suspicions. However, further investigation showed that the nuclear reactor I had left on my desk burned through several floors and continued to bore a hole through the planet’s surface. More alarming, radiation had been detected by the spiders, and they wanted an explanation.
I wanted an explanation, too. It would have been easy to blame the fire on Walmart and their defective nuclear reactor, but the wall-mounted security video camera in my office had been smashed. So had my toaster. Odd. Captain Perkins attempted retrieval of video downloads, but the storage system located downstairs in a vault was also damaged. Somehow the spiders had penetrated embassy security, again. I swore they would pay for this latest provocation.
* * * * *
The spider Intelligentsia officer demanded an independent investigation of the embassy fire. I denied access to his investigators on sovereignty grounds.
“Sensors detect high levels of radiation from the embassy ruins,” accused the Intelligentsia officer. “Is that what happened? A nuclear meltdown started the fire? You better not have smuggled nukes onto our planet.”
“The cause of the fire is still under investigation,” I replied curtly. “I don’t know anything about radiation or meltdowns. I do know one of your spies was caught on film in my office a few days ago. Want to see the tape?” I started the recording of Krueger, Wayne, and the blond spider bimbos.
“I already saw that porn flick on the Spider Playboy Channel,” blurted out one of the Intelligentsia officer’s aides. “It is the newest Spiders Gone Wild XIV video.”
“Shut up!” snapped the Intelligentsia officer. “I want the female you abducted released immediately. Your provocations will not be tolerated, and your diplomatic status will be of little protection if any harm comes to her.”
“I did not abduct anyone,” I replied. “Your spies broke into our embassy. I am filing an official complaint.”
“Abducted, or innocents lured into your nest of spies, it makes no difference! The female will be returned, unsullied, immediately. I have heard what you humans do to female prisoners. If she’s been probed...”
“Enough! Nobody has been probed! You can have your spy back.”
“Just like that? No attempts to extort credits from the Empire? I know about your gangster Mafia ways.”
“I wash my hands of your spy,” I replied. “I already have her full taped confession and will broadcast your nefarious plots on Satellite TV. I hope the bad press ruins your sorry career. I am warning you, do not ever tunnel into our embassy again.”
“I will shoot down your communications satellite,” threatened the Intelligentsia officer. “I should have knocked that abomination out of our sky long ago.”
“Aren’t you even curious about what she told us?” I asked, watching the Intelligentsia officer squirm. I could tell he wanted to know. I let him dangle a bit longer.
“Coerced confessions mean nothing.” “Your spy stated you are plotting to shoot down Santa Claus this Christmas. She was trying to obtain his flight itinerary.” “Your repeated violation of Arthropodan air space every holiday season will no longer be tolerated.” “Santa Claus is in no way connected to the United States Galactic Federation, or to the Legion,” I insisted. “Santa is more like an independent contractor.”
“I hold you responsible for any and all human pestilence trespass.”
“Santa is too quick for your SAMs anyway. You will suffer the same fate as Scrooge.”
“Those reindeer carry Old Earth diseases,” accused the Intelligentsia officer. “Reindeer turds are a sanitary nightmare raining down on our citizenry!”
“Whatever,” I snarled dismissively. Changing the subject, I demanded, “What do you know o
f the Grim Reaper? Your spy had a lot to say on the matter.”
“I know the Hooded One followed humanity across the galaxy, and you harbor more such ghouls in your embassy. I dare you to deny your CIA conducts paranormal research!”
“There might be something in the underground that menaces both humanity and your Empire,” I conceded. “But whatever might be down there was not brought from Old Earth and has nothing to do with the CIA. Perhaps we can work together to set a trap for whatever monster lurks in your sewers.”
The lights blinked, and my phone rang. I picked up. “Trap me? Not likely Czerinski! Everyone dances with Death sooner or later. I will take you sooner!”
The Caller ID flashed an obscenity. “Who is that?” asked the Intelligentsia officer. “It’s for you.” I handed the spider officer my phone, but Death disconnected. “It must have been a crank call.”
* * * * *
Thanatos fled deep down into the underground, past the Legion dungeon, through the spider tunnels, and into the sewers. His cape still smoldered from the fire as he burst into a dimly lit sewer utility room. Three spider commandos lounged lazily against a wall, guarding the rescued female spy.
The Grim Reaper wielded his scythe with inhuman speed, severing the heads of the first two spider commandos and gutting the third before they even raised their rifles. The female spider fell back against a corner as the Grim Reaper lorded over her. “Please!” she begged. “Do not kill me! What did we ever do to deserve this? What are you?”
“I do not need a reason to take you! I am Thanatos! That is reason enough!”
“Males! You are all the same, no matter what species ... or what ever you are. You think you are all God’s gift to the galaxy. Just because you have a big scythe does not mean you have the right.”
The sewer cover above popped open, and a spider marine shined his flashlight below. “Come up!” ordered the spider Intelligentsia officer. “Your vacation is over. Good job!”
“Thank God!” cried the female spider. “Shoot him!” “It is not your time yet,” whispered the Grim Reaper, fading into the wall. “And God has nothing to do with it.” “The aberration is getting away!” shouted the female spider. “Get down here at once!” The Intelligentsia officer hesitated, then ordered spider marines down the sewer. The lead marine carried a flamethrower. He advanced cautiously into darkness, a small blue flame flickering from his weapon.
“It went through that solid wall,” whispered the female spider. “Nothing of this world can do that. It was a human pestilence aberration.”
“It somehow tricked you,” scoffed the Intelligentsia officer, collecting helmet cameras from dead commandos. “We will know the monster’s secret, or die trying.”
“I will take you all!” bellowed the Grim Reaper.
Flame spat through the tunnel, briefly silhouetting the Reaper. He swirled about, cape engulfed in fire, flinging the burning cape back at the marines. Screaming in pain, the Grim Reaper fled, swearing vengeance on the whole spider planet. The whole galaxy would pay for this outrage! Spider marines fired their rifles. A grenade exploded at the Grim Reaper’s heels, but he was gone.
Smoke from the flamethrower forced the spiders topside. They carried their dead out and placed the iron cover back over the hole.
“It was in pain,” commented the Intelligentsia officer. “That means it can be killed. It is just another human pestilence invasive beast from Old Earth.”
* * * * *
The Grim Reaper returned to collect mementos of battle: bits and pieces of equipment, shell casings, a claw. “There is nothing more beautiful than moonlight on freshly burnt stumps,” he mused, satisfied at the night’s work. Something glistened on the wet floor. The Grim Reaper picked up a single diamond stud earring, examining it closely. He affixed the stud to his skull, admiring his reflection in a puddle of water.
“I am styling, such a handsome devil!” he exclaimed. Upbeat, his temporary defeat at the claws of the spiders but a distant memory, the Grim Reaper determined to immediately go to Walmart and obtain a replacement black cape to accent his new diamond. Only this time his cape would be made of the finest fire-resistant materials manufactured in China!
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Chapter 7
Private Robert Rashid, one of many Mantid legionnaire refugees from the Scorpion-Mantidae Holocaust, worked in the American Embassy mailroom. After the embassy burned down, he worked out of tent, sorting and processing mail and departmental memos. True to his Mantidae heritage, Rashid made up for his diminutive stature with quiet dogged persistence.
“Make yourself useful,” ordered Sergeant Green, tossing more Christmas packages through the tent doorway. “Deliver these gifts from Ambassador Yamashita to Embassy Row.”
“Yes, sir!” answered Private Rashid smartly. “Don’t ever call me ‘sir’!” shouted Sergeant Green. “I work for a living!” “Yes, sir, sergeant!” “How you Mantidae were ever allowed in the Legion is beyond me,” muttered Sergeant Green as he continued his rounds. “You Mantidae are incapable of learning.”
“Up yours, bendaho,” answered Private Rashid after Green was out of sight. “I have learned lots. You are lucky I don’t go postal on you, chump.”
Private Rashid gathered up the packages, checked out a truck from the motor pool, and was soon making deliveries to Embassy Row. The last delivery was to the Scorpion Empire Embassy. Rashid was understandably uneasy about making a delivery to his species’ old enemy.
Private Rashid rattled the package. It sounded like fine china, a favorite gift from Ambassador Yamashita’s wife Lulu. Gathering up courage, Rashid strode boldly up to the spiked gated entrance to the Scorpion Embassy.
“Hey ugly stinger dudes!” he yelled, wary of getting too close to the gate. “Special delivery from America, air mail!”
Private Rashid then punted the package like a football through the uprights of the main gate. WHAM! The package, marked ‘fragile’ in bright red lettering, crashed loudly on the other side. Scorpion guards scrambled frantically to investigate the disturbance and the ruined package.
“What is this?” called out a scorpion guard. “The Mantid slave delivers gifts for His Excellency from his human masters?”
“Up yours!” replied Private Rashid, giving the scorpions the one-fingered salute. “And the stingers you rode in on!”
A scorpion guard examined the damaged package, carefully listening to the clinking sounds inside. “Hey Mantid scum, you delivered damaged goods! I will not be blamed for your insolence!” The scorpion guards gathered at the gate, all returning one-fingered salutes.
“It is not my fault you can’t catch,” yelled Private Rashid, laughing. “Eat my dust!”
The Grim Reaper suddenly up from the sewer and, invisible in the bright sunlight, touched his scythe to Rashid’s truck battery. Sparks arced from the hood as Private Rashid pressed the ignition button. Scorpions swarmed out their gate, surrounding the truck. Private Rashid frantically pumped the gas pedal, but the ignition died. Moments later, Rashid died too, as many scorpion stingers found their mark.
* * * * *
Ambassador James Yamashita and his staff received an invitation to the Scorpion Embassy to celebrate the Thanksgiving Day holiday. The gracious invitation was much appreciated during repairs at the American Embassy. The banquet was a formal black-tie affair. Yamashita’s wife Lulu was dressed to kill in heels and low-cut dress. Very hot. I joined in the festivities, escorted by a Legion honor guard.
Before dining, we accepted an invitation by the scorpion ambassador for a swim. This is odd, I thought, but apparently swimming before meals was some sort of scorpion tradition. Hey, what do I care? The food is free. I gazed at the Olympic-sized pool. It was full of fish.
“What’s this?” I asked. The fish were following me as I walked along the side of the pool. “I’m not going in there.”
“They are eel fish,” explained the scorpion ambassador, gesturing for me to hang my tux up on a
hook. Scorpions were already stripping naked, preparing to jump in. “The eels will clean your body like it has never been cleaned before.”
“No way,” I argued. The fish were in a frenzied state now. Some were even jumping out of the water. “I’m not going in there.” “Do not worry,” advised the scorpion ambassador. “Eel fish are harmless. They clean our exoskeletons to a shine.” “Eel fish?” I asked. “They look like piranha. Are you sure it’s safe?” “Eel fish have no teeth. I guarantee the cleaning will be the most refreshing experience of your life.” “I’m not taking off my clothes,” protested Lulu. “The water will mess up my make-up.” “Don’t be such a prude,” scoffed Ambassador Yamashita, already naked and strutting alongside the scorpion dignitaries. “Dear, I expect you to fully participate in diplomatic functions. We talked about this before.”
“I want a swimsuit,” insisted Lulu, balking.
“I want a swimsuit, too,” I advised. “What if those fish mistake my ... you know ... for a tasty worm? This could get nasty.”
“For a legionnaire, you aren’t very adventurous,” admonished Ambassador Yamashita. “I order you to take the plunge. You too, Lulu.”
“You order me?” asked Lulu, more agitated. “We will see about that!”
Ambassador Yamashita made a big production of doing a cannon ball splash as he joined the scorpions in the water. I watched intently. So far, so good. The eels had not yet castrated Yamashita. Private Wayne dived in next. The eels swarmed around Wayne, still to no ill affect. Apparently eels did not harm spiders, either.
Embassy War Page 4
