“There is some gold on this side of the river, but not enough to make it worth my while to pan for it during the winter,” said the large spider.
“You are all under arrest for questioning, pending our investigation,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Stand up, you are coming with us.”
The music stopped. The large spider stood up and loomed over Lieutenant Lopez. Private Williams rushed forward as the spider picked Lieutenant Lopez up and threw him through a plate glass window into the street. The crowd pressed in on the legionnaires. Private Williams struck a spider in the face with the butt of his rifle. Corporal Ceausescu fired several rounds into the air and ordered the crowd to back off. Someone upstairs yelled in pain. Guido’s dragon bit a spider drunk that stepped on its tail. Several bottles were thrown. The crowd, half spider and half human, used that as a provocation to start a massive bar fight.
Lieutenant Lopez lay stunned on the ground beside the armored car. He looked up and saw a spider attempting to hook the armored car up to a tow truck.
“What do you think you are doing?” asked Lieutenant Lopez, still lying on the ground. “Get away from our vehicle.”
“You car is being impounded for being in a handicapped zone,” replied the wrecker driver. “Sorry. Do not interfere with the impound. You can pick it up at the city impound yard.”
Lieutenant Lopez drew his pistol and fired several shots at the wrecker driver. The driver fired several shots back before fleeing in his tow truck. Several cables snapped and flew about wildly as the armored car’s bumper held. Lieutenant Lopez climbed up in the turret and fired the cannon at the fleeing tow truck. The shell missed, but hit East Finisterra’s only 7-Eleven store. A human wearing a turban on his head came running out of the store, shaking his fist and swearing.
Corporal Kool was thrown out the same window that Lieutenant Lopez was tossed out. He landed on the hood of the armored car. Lieutenant Lopez turned the turret toward the window of the Only Tavern.
“Don’t do it!” yelled Corporal Kool, looking up at the cannon muzzle. “We still have legionnaires inside.”
Lieutenant Lopez elevated the cannon and blew up the second floor. Debris rained down on the first floor, ending the bar fight inside. Dusty legionnaires and tavern patrons staggered outside. Legionnaires piled back into the armored car. Private Washington burned rubber, knocking over the handicapped sign and crunching several parked vehicles as they left the tavern parking lot.
“There is some fool in a turban chasing us,” advised Sergeant Green, as they passed the 7-Eleven. “What’s his problem?”
“He is upset about his store,” said Lieutenant Lopez.
“He’s catching up with us,” said Guido.
“Shoot him,” suggested Lieutenant Lopez.
“I’m not shooting anyone until I find out for sure what he wants,” said Sergeant Green. “It’s not like it’s our fault his store blew up.”
“But it is our fault,” said Lieutenant Lopez as the armored car slowed down. The store owner caught up with them, rapping on the window next to Lieutenant Lopez. “It was our cannon shell that accidentally hit his store.”
“You blew up my store just because I am Hindu,” yelled the store owner. “What is your name?”
“Private Delacruz,” answered Lieutenant Lopez, as he tossed a grenade out the window and ordered Private Washington to speed up. The grenade rolled harmlessly under a parked car and exploded. Ralph Singh was last seen shaking his fist as they sped away.
* * * * *
I could see and hear machine gun fire and explosions from across the river, and was getting phone reports of a fierce battle raging. I called Lieutenant Lopez on the radio about it. Lopez said they had encountered a few insurgents, but that only he and Corporal Kool had been slightly injured. He said the Mayor of East Finisterra and local authorities had been helpful. They were proceeding down to the river to check some mining shacks where General Electric was reported to live. I advised Lieutenant Lopez I would be sending three helicopter gunships for immediate help and I would be personally leading a column of four tanks across the bridge shortly. General Kalipetsis promised fighter bombers if needed.
* * * * *
As they drove the armored car down Main Street toward the river, they passed a wrecking yard. The tow truck driver was just putting his tow truck back into his garage. Surprised to see the legionnaires again, he fired a clip from his assault rifle and then ran inside, closing the door. Sergeant Green fired the machine gun back, and then one round from the cannon for good measure. Observing the tracers from above, three Legion helicopter gunships swooped down and fired rockets into the wrecking yard. The tow truck driver dropped into his spider hole deep underground. His business was flattened. Smoke from old tires stacked everywhere billowed over East Finisterra.
Observing the escalation of fighting, I called General Kalipetsis requesting the jet fighter bombers.
“Did you see that?” asked Private Williams. “The whole place went up in smoke. What kind of round did you have in that cannon?”
“It must have been secondary explosions from munitions inside,” said Lieutenant Lopez as they pulled into the riverfront area. “We are going to kick in a few doors down here and see if anyone has seen General Electric.”
* * * * *
General Electric sat on his couch, watching cable TV. Earlier he had been out on his back porch deck fishing in the river. Now, all he wanted to do was drink beer and eat tortilla chips. A human football game was on the sports channel. Watching the game seemed to displace all of G.E.’s worries. The newspaper said spiders were forming football teams, too. He’d pay to see that. G.E. could hear distant explosions, but dismissed them as nothing more than an ongoing mining operation down the street.
In front of G.E. on his coffee table was an assortment of spray paints, solvents, dyes, and paint mixtures. The purple dye might eventually wear off, but G.E. needed an immediate disguise. G.E. stirred his latest mixture of colors. He had not quite got what he was looking for. He threw in some speckles. The result was speckled June bug green. G.E. liked it. The shiny new color was a far cry from his current rusty brown. Once applied, it was magnificent. You could tell the green was artificial, but a lot of spiders were painting themselves these days. The trend was becoming hip. The main thing G.E. noticed as he applied paint to his exoskeleton was that the purple dye was gone.
G.E. turned the TV channel to the news. A news crew was up in a helicopter filming the riverfront area of East Finisterra. An armored car and three Legion tanks had a shanty house surrounded and were about to annihilate some poor slob inside. The reporter was excited that the whole event would be broadcast live. They were doing a countdown. On a hunch, G.E. dragged himself to his feet and staggered over to the window. A Legion tank was lowering the elevation on its cannon, aimed directly at G.E. Oh shit, he thought. I’m the poor slob they’re going to annihilate. G.E. jumped into his spider hole just as his hideout was blown apart by cannon and rocket fire. Deep below the ground, G.E. could hear the rumble of falling rock as the entrance to his tunnel collapsed. G.E. followed his tunnel to where it connected to a mining shaft, and escaped.
* * * * *
Ralph Gobind Singh was not a man to waste time. He had already rented a Caterpillar tractor and was digging a new and improved foundation for his damaged 7-Eleven store. Singh had been planning to expand the store anyway, but had been procrastinating. Now that the Legion had blasted a hole in the wall, there was no time like now to get the job done. He wasn’t even mad at the Legion anymore. Singh looked to the future, not the past. There was much work to be done. Singh had his whole extended family clearing debris. He dug into the ground all night. The blue-black clay often clogged the treads of his Caterpillar. His wife finally gave up and went to bed. Singh did not want to wait for the next rain to turn his efforts into a big mud hole. He would call for the cement tomorrow and finish the job. As the dawn sun rose, Singh paused to admire the majesty of the New Colorado sunri
se. He had to shield his eyes.
But something was wrong. Singh had to shield his eyes from two directions. The glare of the sun reflected from inside the hole he had just dug. Singh got off his tractor for a closer look at something metallic. It was a huge vein of gold. Geologists and miners at the Only Tavern all agreed there had to be a mother load somewhere in Finisterra, but extensive digging had failed to locate it. Now, Singh had found the mother load of all mother loads, and would soon be one of the wealthiest men on New Colorado. Not only had he discovered the largest gold strike on New Colorado, but the black-blue clay that was gumming up the treads of his Caterpillar turned out to be silver.
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CHAPTER 11
With the discovery of more gold in Finisterra came another gold rush. The Singh Mining Corporation quickly became the area’s largest employer. Unfortunately, sensationalized media coverage of the recent battle with insurgents in East Finisterra attracted a flood of insurgents hoping to join their brothers in arms. The insurgency had not been doing well in other parts of the planet. But now the insurgency had a new hero: General Electric. And the media said the elusive G.E. was making his last stand in Finisterra. In response, the Legion put up roadblocks along the North Highway and patrol boats on the New Mississippi River. In Finisterra, the Legion’s main checkpoint was at the Finisterra Bridge.
Corporal Tonelli put little pieces of bread on top of the sand bags to feed the squirrels. It helped pass the time. Nothing was more boring to Tonelli than guard duty. Squirrels would dart up to their machine gun position, snatch a bread crumb, and run back to the bushes at the base of the bridge.
“Stop feeding those squirrels,” said Sergeant Green. “Don’t you know they carry diseases?”
“It is rats that carry diseases,” replied Guido. “Squirrels are just cute and fuzzy.”
“A squirrel is nothing more than a rat with better PR” said Sergeant Green. “I don’t want them up here with us.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the big mean squirrel,” said Guido as he put another piece of bread just inside the sandbag wall. The squirrel was leery, but ventured forth because of hunger and greed. Just as the squirrel snatched the bread, Tonelli’s dragon Spot snatched the squirrel. The rat with better PR was gone in one bite.
Private Williams walked up to the next car in line. It was his turn to do a check. Private Williams told the driver to step out of the car and to open the trunk. The driver and a passenger were patted down. Private Williams searched luggage in the trunk. In one suitcase he found about eighty cell phones.
“What is this?” asked Private Williams. “Are you a salesman for Motorola?”
“No. I have many friends and relatives in Finisterra,” said the spider driver. “I buy these cell phones cheap at the spaceport. They make perfect gifts out here on the Frontier. Would you like one? Pick one out.”
“Thank you,” said Private Williams, as he selected a bright red phone. He passed the car through the checkpoint and walked back to the bunker. “Look what that spider gave me.”
“Why did he do that?” asked Sergeant Green.
“He had about eighty phones in his suitcase,” said Private Williams. “I guess he was just being friendly and had an extra.”
“Cell phones are a cheap method used by the insurgency to explode homemade bombs,” said Sergeant Green, as he took Private Williams’ new phone. Idiot, he thought. Sergeant Green then radioed legionnaires on the other side of the bridge to stop and detain the last car through.
Corporal Ceausescu motioned with her assault rifle for the car to stop. She ordered both occupants to get out of the car with their claws up. The driver stepped on the gas and tried to run the roadblock. Corporal Ceausescu jumped out of the way as the car nearly struck her. Corporal Kool fired his machine gun at the car, killing both insurgents.
* * * * *
General Electric walked into the Only Tavern. It was doing a brisk business despite construction contractors hammering out repairs. Teamsters construction workers added to the business because they ordered drinks during their many union breaks. They were putting in a new ceiling and rebuilding the second floor hotel. G.E. sat at the bar and ordered a drink.
A drunk spider on the stool next to him grabbed G.E. by the shoulder. “We don’t like Greens in here,” said the drunk. “Get out.”
G.E. pulled a jagged military-issue combat knife and held it to the drunk’s throat. “Do I really look like someone you want to piss off?” he asked.
“No, sir. You do not,” said the drunk. “I am so sorry.”
“If I don’t look like someone you would want to piss off, then why are you trying so hard to do it?” asked G.E. A droplet of blood trickled from the drunk’s neck. “Are you brain damaged or just stupid?”
“I am just stupid, sir,” said the drunk. “Please don’t kill me. I’ve had too much to drink. Can I buy you a drink?”
“I had better never see you in this tavern again,” said G.E. “If I do, I will cut off your head and nail it above the bar next to that deer.”
“You will never see me again,” said the drunk, as he ran for the door. The scene attracted attention.
“Who are you?” asked another spider sitting with a group of spiders at a nearby table. “Care to join us?”
“That depends,” said G.E. “Are you buying?”
“Anything you want,” said the spider, waving at the bartender for more whiskey and vodka. “Don’t ever bring that knife to a gunfight.”
“I was just playing with that fool,” said G.E. “I have several guns on me.”
“You did not answer my question, so I’ll ask it again,” said the spider. “Who are you?”
“None of your business, even if you are buying the drinks,” said G.E. “You are the newcomer in town, so it is I who should be asking who you are. Just another fortune hunter looking for gold? Good luck.”
“I will tell you who you are not,” said the spider. “You are not a Green. No Green shopkeeper ever handled a combat knife that way.”
“Some of the best soldiers I have ever served with were Greens,” said G.E. “You know nothing.”
“You were a soldier?” asked the spider. “Special Forces?”
“You ask too many questions,” said G.E., picking up his drink to leave. “Idiots everywhere.”
“I am a leader in the insurgency,” said the spider, following G.E. “We need ex-soldiers like you. Would you join us?”
“Why would I join the bumblers of the insurgency?” said G.E. “I am General Electric. I destroyed the Legion at the North Highway Battle, and I will destroy them here at a time of my own choosing.”
“You are the one we have been looking for!” exclaimed the spider. “Finisterra is the only place on the planet effectively resisting the human pestilence. You are the only leader who has been successful. Hundreds of us are coming here to rally around your leadership. Please lead us.”
“You have heard of me?” asked G.E.
“You were featured on America’s Most Wanted,” said the spider. “Your picture is posted in every post office on New Colorado. There is a million-dollar reward for you, dead or alive.”
“I have a shuttle full of weapons and explosives hidden in the forest,” said G.E. “I will help you rid New Colorado of the human pestilence.”
“We welcome you, brother,” said the spider, grasping G.E. in a firm embrace. The other spiders at the table got up and did the same. “There is so much injustice to be righted. Arthropoda has been cheated out of the vast riches of the North. Have you noticed that the largest mine in Finisterra is already owned by a human? I am talking about Ralph Gobind Singh and the Singh Mining Corporation. Our first act of defiance will be to make an example of Mr. Singh.”
“The Emperor gave this planet away,” complained G.E., sitting back down at the table. “Then he orders me here to destabilize it by arming the insurgency. Then, he abandons me. To hell
with Arthropoda. To hell with the Emperor. We need our own independent country here in the North. The human pestilence may be able to kill us, but they cannot kill an idea. They cannot kill the desire for independence.”
“I like that,” said the spider. “I could be the Emperor of the North.”
“Whatever,” said G.E. “You have to drive the human pestilence out first. Or at least you have to drive the Legion out. Did you know that spiders have joined the humans’ Foreign Legion?”
“Traitors,” said the Emperor of the North. “We need to make an example of them, too.”
“The problem is that spiders are not united,” said G.E. “They are too busy digging for gold and pursuing the American Dream. They have been brainwashed by satellite TV and seduced by dollars. We need to do something that will galvanize support for the insurgency.”
“That is easy,” said the Emperor of the North. “All we have to do is set off a few bombs. The Legion always overreacts to that sort of thing. They will upset every spider in Finisterra with their crude tactics.”
“What do you want to blow up first?” asked G.E. “Can we get a nuke?”
“Everyone wants a nuke,” said the Emperor of the North. “Using nukes would be bad for public opinion. Besides, we don’t want to destroy Finisterra. We want to take it for our own.”
“For now we don’t need nukes,” agreed G.E. “But later we may need them. It is always good to have that option available to us.”
“I will consider that,” said the Emperor of the North. “First we blow up City Hall, the Finisterra Bridge, and the home of Ralph Gobind Singh. If we hit all three on the same day, the Legion will go crazy.”
“What will the Legion do in response?”
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 2: Reenlistment Page 10
