“Don’t worry, it was just me,” reassured Corporal Kool. “I was fishing.”
“Get any?” asked Private Williams as he ran up to the river bank.
“Almost. It was this long,” said Corporal Kool, gesturing about three feet. “But it got away.”
As I angrily picked myself up out of the blue clay, I noticed something shiny in the water and picked it up. It was a gold nugget about the size of a door knob. I washed it off and put the nugget into my grenade pouch. I looked about for more gold but didn’t find any. No one had noticed my discovery.
“Captain, are you okay?” asked Corporal Kool. “Sorry if I startled you.”
“Private Williams!” I yelled. “You take Corporal Kool north along the river and show him the proper way to fish. No more grenades!”
“Yes, sir,” said Private Williams. “That is the best order I’ve been given since I joined the Legion.”
“We better get going before he changes his mind,” suggested Corporal Kool. “Or before Sergeant Green sees us and puts us to work again.”
I called Battalion Headquarters on the radio to check in. I told the engineers I wanted cabins built because it was about to snow. When they asked if I wanted anything else built, I said I wanted a large lodge, a well for the plumbing, generators, swimming pool, and a hot tub. I then E-mailed the County Clerk in Disneyland and filed a miner’s claim. I also filled out an application to buy Finisterra under the newly passed Homestead Act of New Colorado.
* * * * *
Team Leader #4 of the Arthropodan Special Forces had orders to resupply the insurgency with arms, and to destabilize the North. He also brought twenty-five Special Forces advisors to help train the locals. At first the Emperor was reluctant to violate the terms of the peace treaty. But after the prison massacre at Disneyland, there was a public outcry to do something. Also, it grated on the Emperor that uranium and oil deposits had just been discovered in the North. The human pestilence was keeping the discovery a secret because they knew some of those profits belonged to the Arthropodan corporation that sent geologists to the North in the first place.
#4 brought assault rifles, machine guns, RPGs, armored piercing rockets, land mines, and SAMs. #4 gave the local dragon leader the weapons and cached them in hidden bunkers along the North Highway. Apparently the insurgency had just been run out of town, and the Lion of the Forest was dead. They were eager for payback.
“This is the only road to the North,” said #4. “You should be able to easily harass convoy traffic. The forest canopy is a perfect cover for hit and run tactics.”
“I do not like this wild forest,” commented the dragon leader. “I heard the human pestilence have seeded the forest with vicious predators from Earth to control the deer and other pests. Last night I heard a God awful scream as some poor animal got killed.”
“No animal can stand up against your assault rifles,” said #4. “With these weapons, you will rule the Northern Territory.”
“Sir!” interrupted a Special Forces sergeant. “We found an old prospector who says he has information about the Legion being in this area.”
“Bring him in,” said #4. When he saw the prospector, he was shocked by his renegade appearance. The old fart entered the camp wearing a human cap and tugging at an animal of Old Earth origin. “Is that a Legion hat?”
“Of course it is,” said the prospector. “They came through here about a week ago.”
“What were they doing up here?” asked #4.
“Looking for you,” said the prospector. “A captain told me engineers would be coming through to build a bridge at Finisterra.”
“What are you doing up here?” asked the dragon leader.
“Minding my own business is what I should be doing,” said the prospector. “I thought the war was over, but I now see you insurgents and marines. Are you all slow learners or just lost?”
“You will stay in camp for a while as our guest,” ordered #4.
“Why?” asked the prospector. “I have my own camp.”
“For security reasons,” said #4.
“I was doing my duty while you were still an egg,” complained the prospector. “Who do you think you are, harassing me like this?”
“It’s only temporary,” said #4.
“As big and majestic as the North Country is, you would think a spider could find some elbow room,” griped the prospector. “But no! You busybody types have to get into everyone’s business. I am not staying in your camp another minute. It’s too crowded for my tastes, and I don’t like the company.” The prospector spit some chew on the ground and led his donkey into the forest.
“That prospector did not seem too happy. He might tip off the Legion about our presence,” said the dragon leader.
“Kill him,” said #4. “Kill the Earth animal, too. I can still smell its stench.”
The dragon leader nodded to two insurgents. They quickly dashed into the brush after the prospector. About five minutes later, the whole camp heard a grenade explode. The two insurgents did not return. Their bodies were never found.
<
CHAPTER 8
From his hiding place, the spider Special Forces sergeant watched the human pestilence convoy of about thirty trucks pass. His one hundred insurgents would cut off retreat and ambush any help that was sent.
The convoy drove a couple miles down the road to a bend in the road where it had to slow down. Private Nesbit was riding in the lead armored car when it hit a land mine. Nesbit was thrown out the back door by the force of the explosion. The convoy was halted by the resulting traffic jam.
Three spiders stepped from the thick forest and threw armor-piercing grenades. More vehicles caught fire. Private Nesbit shot one of the spiders. A machine gun on a ridge overlooking the convoy sprayed the trucks and legionnaires with more bullets. Private Nesbit crawled on his hands and knees to the rear of the convoy. It began to snow.
Armored cars were driven wildly into the ditch in an attempt to establish a defensive perimeter. Machine guns and cannons fired into the forest. Mortar shells hit the convoy. Trucks carrying bridge spans and parts caught fire and were abandoned. Two helicopter gunships assigned to convoy escort strafed suspected insurgent positions on each side of the road. A spider soldier fired a heat-seeking rocket that hit one of the helicopters and brought it down. Smoke from the crash drifted over the battlefield.
Private Nesbit crawled into the overturned command car and radioed the T. Roosevelt Space Weapons Platform for air support. Within minutes, cluster bombs were dropped from space, blanketing both sides of the road. The forest exploded. As quickly as it started, the ambush ended. The insurgents pulled back to predetermined staging areas. Legion jets appeared and dropped more bombs on the forest.
The convoy was wrecked. Legionnaires abandoned equipment, piled into the remaining vehicles, and retreated. Another vehicle hit a land mine, springing a second insurgent ambush. More machine gun fire raked what was left of the convoy. Private Nesbit fired a red smoke flare into the forest to mark enemy positions. Jet fighters flattened that section of forest. The spiders withdrew again.
The insurgents suffered few casualties. Their plan was to hit quickly and withdraw quickly, and to hit again tomorrow. The second ambush worked to perfection. The intervention of the T. Roosevelt was a surprise, but even the best laid plans are not perfect. A few reckless spider insurgents stayed behind and danced atop the Legion vehicles to celebrate before fading back into the forest. It was all filmed and eventually sent out over the internet on the insurgents’ website. #4 and most of his Special Forces marines had already left on their shuttle for Finisterra. He left a sergeant and four advisers to help organize the next attacks.
In orbit above New Colorado, the captain of an Arthoropodan Special Forces support ship watched with interest as the T. Roosevelt dropped its ordnance. The captain’s orders were to drop more supplies, mostly arms and food, to the insurgents, and to be
available if needed. Now seemed to be a time of need. The T. Roosevelt, preoccupied by its bombardment of the planet surface, would be an easy target of opportunity. As they approached for attack, missile detection alarms sounded. The captain’s ship was being targeted by a stealth starship. They never knew it was the Shenandoah that killed them. Death in space is quick and violent.
* * * * *
The five spider Special Forces marines huddled around the campfire. They were frying venison steaks.
“I think our charges did very well,” commented the sergeant. “They followed instructions and routed the human pestilence with minimal losses. If it had not been for the Legion air support, we would have wiped the convoy out completely.”
“Still, we have big problems,” replied a corporal. “We are now stuck here. We have lost contact with our supply ship. Our stashed vehicles are useless because the Legion controls the only road out of here. We have plenty of weapons and ammunition, but our food is running out.”
“I guess we will have to dine on steaks all winter,” said a private. “It could be worse.”
“It already is worse,” said the corporal. “The deer are getting scarce. If it keeps snowing, we not only will starve, we will all freeze to death.”
“We could build shelters,” suggested the sergeant.
“For over two hundred fighters?” asked the corporal. “The plan was to stay mobile so that the Legion could not pin us down with their superior numbers, firepower, and air support. The plan does not work if we try to survive the winter in cabins.”
“What are you suggesting?” asked the sergeant.
“We can hunt. We brought winter gear,” said the corporal. “Most of the fools that came out here with us brought no winter clothing. They think this is one big camp-out. The weather is turning polar. Some tough decisions need to be made. I for one do not want to share our food or what little else we have with them.”
“What can we do?” asked the sergeant. “We are all in this together.”
“No we are not,” said the corporal. “We should leave them. It is eight hundred miles back to Disneyland, but it is only two hundred miles to the river. We walk out of here. When we get to the river, we build a raft and float to safety.”
“Why don’t we just call for the shuttle to pick us up,” asked a private. “We can join #4 at Finisterra.”
“They aren’t answering their radio either,” said the corporal. “Something has happened to them. We may be alone.”
The sergeant looked over at the next campfire. A drunk insurgent drinking from a vodka bottle fell backwards into the snow bank. His comrades laughed.
“You are right,” said the sergeant. “We should hike to the river. But we cannot just leave them. We could lead them to the river, too.”
“Haven’t you been listening?” asked the corporal. “They have maybe two days food left. They won’t make it that far. And the Legion would detect large movements of troops. We need to take what food we can steal and carry, and get out before they realize their situation. We are on our own now. We have to do what is necessary for us to survive.”
“We will leave at midnight,” said the sergeant. “We will raid the supply cache for food before we go.”
* * * * *
Wolves evolved to fear man. This instinct was an important survival trait. Wolves wanted nothing to do with man. They did not even like the smell of man. Man stunk with sweat and other odors.
Spiders were another matter. Spiders were something new. Spiders even smelled like prey. The wolves had been watching the spiders for quite some time. When five spiders left their fire, they plodded through the snow in a long strung-out column. Herd animals did that, too. Unlike herd animals, the spiders had no lookouts. Even those at the front and the rear walked with their heads hung low, miserable from the cold. It was careless.
Wolves were not as smart as spiders or men. But the wolves were in their element. Deep snow and a cold wet forest worked in their favor. The wolves of New Colorado were larger than the wolves of Old Earth. Perhaps that was because they ate better on New Colorado. Scientists may have tinkered with their genes when the wolves were put here, but there was no proof. However, wolves on New Colorado were definitely more aggressive.
The five spiders were an opportunity that could not be ignored. The pack of twenty-five wolves struck from all directions. Surprise was total. The spider marines were able to fire their assault rifles, but not before the damage was done. All five spiders were seriously injured. The sergeant looked down at his broken and missing limbs. The others were in no better shape. Dazed by the ferocity of the attack, they just lay there in the snow.
“What kind of planet could be so cruel?” cried the sergeant. “I hate this place.”
Falling snow had already covered his legs. The sergeant looked up the ridge. The howling monsters stared down at him. Time was on their side. It was so cold. He felt so tired. The sergeant drew his pistol and fired several shots at the wolves. The shots missed. Then he shot himself.
* * * * *
“Our Special Forces friends left,” said an assistant dragon leader. “They left a note saying they had another mission.”
“Good,” said a private as he took another swig of vodka. “We don’t need them. We just defeated the whole Legion, and we will do it again without their help.”
“What mission could they have now? What would be more important than fighting the Legion here and now?” asked the dragon leader. “Which direction did they go?”
“The snow covered their tracks. Maybe they are joining #4 at Finisterra,” said the assistant dragon leader. “Will this snow ever stop?”
“We need a bigger fire,” commented the dragon leader, shivering from the cold. “This one is going out.”
“There is no dry wood, what with all the rain and snow,” replied the private. “I don’t even have an ax. We need to go back to town.”
“We need shelter,” said the assistant dragon leader. “The supply bunkers are too small to fit us all.”
“The bunkers are full, and they won’t let us in,” complained the private, throwing away his vodka bottle. “We are out of vodka, too.”
“And we have another problem,” added the assistant dragon leader. “There have been desertions.”
“Why?” asked the dragon leader. “We just fought a great victory. Morale should be high. Where would they go?”
“To surrender,” said the private. “At least the Legion has food. What good is victory if we are starving?”
“We have no food?” asked the dragon leader. “Now I know why the marines left. Put a guard on the food caches.”
“It’s too late,” said the private. “The food is gone. All the supplies have been dumped outside to make room to keep warm.”
It never did stop snowing. The temperature dropped to thirty degrees below zero. The air itself froze. Snow flakes bounced off the ground and floated, suspended in the air. Spiders fought for space in their small bunkers. The cached weapons tossed outside were soon covered with snow and lost. Some spiders walked out to the highway to surrender. A few were taken prisoner. After their terrible losses, legionnaires were not in a mood to take prisoners. Other spiders simply wandered off to sleep and die.
As if on cue to finally put the insurgents out of their misery, white clad Legion troops on skis appeared and sought them out. The fight was quick and decisive.
* * * * *
The shuttle circled over Finisterra, looking for a place to land. The tops of trees were obscured by low clouds. They did not have fuel to waste, but there were no clear spots in the thick forest to land. Finally, about two miles from Finisterra, they found the meadow they had been hoping for. Quickly landing, they realized their mistake too late. The shuttle fell through the ice of a pond and tipped over. Spider marines and equipment were thrown about.
Water poured into the shuttle. #4 pulled marines out of the emergency hatch. They salvaged as much equipment as possible, but their
situation was a mess. #4 rallied his marines. They would walk to Finisterra and take what they needed to survive from the human pestilence. Wet and cold, #4 shivered until his exoskeleton rattled to its core. “Why would anyone want to fight for a planet this cold?”
* * * * *
“Listen up,” I said. “I got a radio report that insurgents attacked the engineer convoy. The engineers will not be coming up the highway. A decision was made to barge everything up the river. Probably the barges have to be built first.”
“We are almost out of supplies,” advised Sergeant Green.
“No problem,” I said. “Just make a list and radio in what you want airlifted.”
“What happens if the insurgents attack here?” asked Corporal Tonelli.
We are too far away,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Insurgents can’t get this far without air transport.”
“We will post guards. How does your lizard like the snow?” I asked Tonelli. “You have first watch.”
“Spot gets irritable when I take him outside to do his business,” said Guido. “He tried to bite me.”
“Does anyone here know how to build a log cabin?” I asked. No one answered. “It might be a while before the engineers get here.”
“This tent is nice and toasty as long as the portable heater lasts,” said Corporal Ceausescu.
“I know, but a nasty wind could easily rip it apart,” I said. “Then we all would be living in the armored car.”
* * * * *
Guido grabbed a portable heater and dragged his dragon off to the armored car. This was the second time Czerinski had sent him into the darkness to do guard duty, groused Guido. Czerinski held a grudge forever. Guido cleared snow off the windows so he could see out. By morning the armored car would probably look like a giant igloo. Settling inside, Guido took off his boots and kicked back in a chair with his feet resting on top of the heater.
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 2: Reenlistment Page 7
