“It’s Torres,” I said, glancing at the corpse. “What killed him?”
“Unknown data,” answered Captain Lopez. “There is no sign of trauma. A security guard found him here alone. Maybe he had a heart attack?”
I looked about the scene and the store. A spider marine warily patrolled his half of Walmart. The MDL, clearly painted on the floor dividing the store, kept the spiders back. An ATM stood silently nearby. Valerie interrupted my thoughts with a text message via my communications pad. I pushed the answer button, and she appeared before me. No one else could see my lovely Valerie.
“I do not mean to intrude,” said Valerie, “but you have been avoiding me. How come you never call? Some gratitude for saving your life!”
“I have been busy,” I replied, motioning to Torres’s body. “This is one of the terrorists who kidnapped me. I’m trying to figure out how he died.”
“Yes,” said Valerie. “I recognize that pig from your alien abduction. David Torres was one of the humans that helped. He was especially brutal. Good riddance. Why do you care how he died? The important fact is that he is dead and can no longer harm you, sweetie.”
“It might add up to something important,” I explained. “Pieces to a puzzle must be put together before you can have the whole picture. Most-Wanted terrorists don’t just drop dead in Walmart. Not unless they eat at the restaurant first.”
“Ask him,” said Valerie, pointing to the ATM. “That ATM saw what happened.”
“What did you see?” I asked the ATM. “Talk to me.”
“Good morning, Colonel Czerinski. “It’s so very good to see you again. Am I wrong, or did I just observe you having a conversation with yourself? Are you hearing voices, again? You must still be self-medicating.”
“Forget that!” I replied. “I was just thinking out loud. How did David Torres die? I know you saw the whole thing. I want to see your surveillance video.”
“I saw nothing,” said the ATM. “I think a power surge blinded me temporarily. It is my understanding the same happened to all the other surveillance cameras at Walmart.”
“That ATM is lying,” accused Valerie. “I can see it in his body language. See how he won’t make eye contact.”
“What about the time leading up to his death?” I asked. “Was Torres with anyone else? Can you speculate about what happened to Torres?”
“He died,” said the ATM. “It happens to you humans. Too bad, so sad.”
Captain Lopez and Private Wayne loaded Torres onto a gurney. Valerie studied Private Wane with great interest.
“Aliens in the Foreign Legion?” asked Valerie, distracted by the spider legionnaire. “Can they be trusted? This one is very interesting. How exciting to see him up close. Private Wayne looks so fierce, but he has sad intelligent red eyes. Keep him close.”
I ignored Valerie’s female ramblings. “An autopsy will determine how Torres died,” I commented. “Have Torres’s body flown to New Phoenix for forensic examination.”
“You are much too meticulous,” said the ATM. “It borders on being anal-compulsive. You should be satisfied that an enemy is dead, and just let it be.”
“You’re hiding something,” I said. “Tell me what.”
The ATM remained silent. Valerie continued to scrutinize Private Wayne.
“Speaking of hiding something,” said Valerie. “What do female spiders look like?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked. “The females are bigger and more aggressive.”
“I heard from a reliable source that you have been cheating on me,” accused Valerie. “With female spider harlots! What do you have to say for yourself?”
“First of all, I cannot cheat on you, because you are nothing more than a computer-generated information impulse tickling one of my embedded silicon chips. You are not real flesh and blood, so do not pretend to cry, because that doesn’t work on me anymore.”
“So you do not deny that you have been cavorting with spider bimbos?” shouted Valerie, crying. “How could you break my heart like that?”
“I deny having consensual sex with spiders,” I said. “Where did you get your information? The mere thought of such a thing terrifies me to the bone.”
“That is not what mental health professional Lieutenant Priscilla Percy wrote in her psychological evaluation report about your command capabilities and other stress-related matters,” said Valerie. “Lieutenant Percy described you as a drunken, debased, bestial, twisted, deviant debauchee who frequently and publicly engages in kinky spider sex, thus setting the poorest of examples for your troops.”
“She thought I was twisted?” I asked. “That’s not fair. And here I thought she liked me. We almost hooked up.”
“Lieutenant Percy forgot to add that you are also a lying, cheating, two-timing bastard asshole,” accused Valerie. “Have you no morality, decency, or sensitivity for others?”
“I have not had sexual contact with any female spiders since I met you,” I said. “I swear. Check the date on that report. It’s old news! I love only you.”
A few minutes of silence passed. Legionnaires were staring at me. My mumbling had become more animated. “Take the body away,” I ordered, giving the idle legionnaires something to do.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” said Valerie, following me. “I believe you have been faithful since we met. You are right. It was an old report. Forgive me? I love you so much!”
“Of course,” I said. “I can’t ever be angry at you for long, dear.”
Captain Lopez directed Private Wayne to escort the corpse of David Torres to a waiting ambulance outside. Private Wayne rode in the ambulance so there would be no contamination or break in the chain of evidence. As the ambulance headed for the Legion helicopter pad, Private Wayne received a text message. “John, did you know that Arthropodan authorities have posted a fifty-thousand-dollar dead-or-alive reward for Most-Wanted terrorist David Torres?” asked the ATM. “I think you should hand the Torres corpse over to the spiders at the border.”
“Disobey orders?” texted Private Wayne. “I cannot afford to be busted again. Next time I will be shot.”
“I will match that fifty thousand dollars with another fifty thousand,” promised the ATM. “I am being very generous. You owe me. Remember your enlistment contract.”
Private Wayne ordered the driver to stop at the MDL checkpoint. He dragged Torres’s body by the hair and deposited it in front of the spider guard shack.
“This is Arthropoda’s Most-Wanted terrorist David Torres of the terrorist organization Fist and Claw,” announced Private Wayne. “I want to collect the reward money for his arrest and capture.”
“How did he die?” asked a spider team leader. “Did Torres resist arrest?”
“Yes,” said Private Wayne, drawing his pistol and shooting Torres. “He was shot trying to escape. Give me my money. I want it now!”
The team leader frantically communicated with Headquarters, sending downloaded photos and describing the tense situation at the crossing gate. Reinforcements were sent to deal with the spider renegade. Obviously this spider legionnaire was very unstable. No one knew what he might do next. Soon confirmation was received, and the reward money was wired to Private Wayne’s card.
I was soon informed of the incident by the spider commander himself. Since Private Wayne had already been recently busted down to private for going AWOL with Barker, I created a new rank to bust Wayne down to. I docked Wayne’s pay and busted him down to Base Toilet Cleaner. He seemed to take it well. Base Toilet Cleaner John Iwo Jima Wayne stoically went about his duties from dusk to dawn, not once complaining, showing anger, or fatigue. I’ll be watching you, Wayne.
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Chapter 13
Sergeant Green and a platoon of legionnaires deployed by armored car to the old Miranda homestead north of the DMZ to set an ambush, should Desert Claw try to find haven in its ruins or tunnels.
“I don’t like you,” Sergeant Green growled at
Private Barker. “You’re a traitor and a conniver that should have been shot a long time ago. I still can’t figure out why Colonel Czerinski wants you kept alive and safe.”
“It’s the price of being popular,” replied Private Barker. “I have lots of important friends. I can tell you don’t have that problem. You should network more. That’s why you’re still just a sergeant.”
“Smart-ass punk,” said Sergeant Green. “This isn’t a popularity contest. This is the Legion. Forget you.” Sergeant Green looked about the barren landscape. “I’m hungry. I was told there would be food and supplies hidden inside the tunnel bunkers. Where is the entrance?”
“Under the ruins, there is a trap door,” replied Private Barker. “But don’t go inside yet. It’s booby-trapped with explosives.”
“Are there any more nasty surprises?” asked Sergeant Green.
“That hill with the graves has landmines on its northern perimeter. Stick to the path, and you should be safe.”
“Thanks,” said Sergeant Green, warily assessing the trail. “You could have let me get killed. I always say there is some good even in the lowliest of the low.”
“Don’t count on it,” said Private Barker, walking the steep path to visit his parents’ gravesite.
Private Barker sat by the graves, watching the sunset. It seemed to relax him. Sergeant Green let Barker be alone as others worked to set up camp. Dinner was the good old MRE – Meal Ready to Eat.
* * * * *
Desert Claw planned on stashing the latest delivery of blue powder from New Memphis at the old Miranda homestead. Before approaching, he sent in a lone scout on a dirt bike to check for Arthropodan marines. There had not been any recent spider marine activity in this sector, but caution was prudent. Desert Claw did not worry about the Legion, because the homestead was well north of the DMZ.
The scout parked his bike next to the farmhouse ruins. As the scout stepped inside the dilapidated building, Private Camacho silently slit the insurgent’s throat. Desert Claw called his scout on the radio for a status report. Corporal George Rambo Washington, the first spider to enlist in the Legion, picked up the radio. “All clear,” he hissed.
Soon, a column of dirt bikes, followed by a battered Toyota pickup truck, appeared over the next hill. Desert Claw hung back as about twenty spider insurgents entered the homestead. Desert Claw caught a metallic reflection in the corner of several of his eyeballs from up on the hill. He fired warning shots with his assault rifle, but it was too late. A Legion armored car burst out of the ruins, firing a machine gun. Other legionnaires lying in ambush in the outbuildings threw grenades. Most of the insurgents were soon down or fleeing. A sniper up on the hill picked them off, too. Desert Claw retreated as a sniper’s bullet raised dirt next to him. He left his freedom fighters and valuable blue power behind.
* * * * *
“A small battle took place at the Miranda homestead,” announced the spider commander. “We burned out the human pestilence from that place a long time ago. I mention this skirmish between the Legion and insurgents because of its location, well north of the DMZ.”
“Is that really a problem?” asked the spider Governor of the North Territory. “We have signed a cooperation agreement with the United States Galactic Federation against terrorism. We have agreed to a proactive approach to the terrorist problem. The human pestilence Legion is acting well within the parameters of the treaty.”
“The Legion is not supposed to cross north of the DMZ unless they have received permission, or are in hot pursuit of bandits. Neither was the case.”
“I don’t see that as a big problem, as long as they kill terrorists,” said the governor.
“The integrity of our borders is just as important as our mutual interest in fighting the insurgency,” insisted the spider commander. “The human pestilence are establishing a dangerous precedent. It’s what they do.”
“Fine,” said the governor. “I will talk to General Kalipetsis about the matter of mutual respect of our border. In the meantime, do not start any new wars over lines drawn in the worthless sand.”
“You so easily minimize the need to secure our borders?” asked the spider commander. “Territorial imperative is ingrained in our DNA and culture. It defines us as a species and as an Empire.”
“And to think I thought you were just being arbitrarily anal,” replied the governor. “The Emperor ordered that we use restraint along the border with the human pestilence and the Legion. Obedience to the Emperor is ingrained, too. Remember that. Flexibility is the key to dealings with the human pestilence. If the Legion is allowed to chase insurgents north of the DMZ, they cannot object when we do the same to the south. Which reminds me. What have you done recently to fight terrorism? I want this Desert Claw renegade eradicated before the Emperor’s visit. It’s an embarrassment that the insurgency keeps blowing up post offices and cell towers. My phone never has more than two bars! Can you hear me now?”
“We are actively hunting Desert Claw,” insisted the spider commander defensively. “But it is most difficult when the terrorists strike only soft targets. They only hit at a time and place of their own choosing.”
“In a showing of good faith and in the spirit of cooperation, the Legion killed the Most-Wanted terrorist David Torres and delivered his body to us,” said the governor. “We shall strive to repay that favor by killing Desert Claw and stringing his body up a flag pole.”
“There is another problem,” advised the spider commander. “There are reports that the Fist and Claw are joining forces with Mafioso types in the trafficking of blue powder. Do you have the political will to move against the New Memphis crime syndicates?”
“That is a galactic issue that stretches from Arthropoda to Earth,” admitted the governor, sighing. “But, we will do our part. I authorize whatever force is needed to prevent or to root out narco-insurgents. When I talk to General Kalipetsis, I will suggest a joint task force to deal with New Memphis issues. Hopefully it is not too late.”
* * * * *
The spider Governor of the North Territory and General Kalipetsis sat down with their respective staff officers at a conference table at the New Gobi City Walmart to discuss the growing insurgency. Captain Lopez and I sat in on the discussions because we were the hosts and the providers of refreshments (vodka). For grins, I let Marine Lieutenant Valerie Smith, retired (deceased) sit in on the meeting. Again, I was the only one who could see and hear her.
“My plan calls for a joint Legion and Imperial marine sweep of New Memphis to arrest or kill every Italian in the city,” announced the spider governor. “Together we can rid New Colorado of the Mafia menace forever.”
“I see a few problems in your plan,” replied General Kalipetsis. “New Memphis has rebuilt itself from the devastation of war to become the jewel of the New Mississippi River. Being an open port city jointly administrated by the United States Galactic Federation and the Arthropodan Empire, New Memphis is an excellent example of what cooperation can achieve. Soon the entire riverfront will be lined with new casino resort hotels and swimming pools. I will not jeopardize this stunning success story with a reckless and unnecessary military attack.”
“But the Mob runs the whole city,” argued the spider commander, before the governor could object to the general’s denial. “Who do you think financed those casinos?”
“The key to controlling gambling enterprises is to regulate and to incorporate the casinos,” said General Kalipetsis. “Destroying the casinos merely harms commerce.”
“But what about the Italians?” insisted the spider commander. “They are linking up with terrorists and forming a narco-insurgency. They are becoming increasingly ruthless. Victims have been whacked as far away as Arthropoda itself.”
“Whacked?” asked General Kalipetsis. “You are overreacting. We cannot just arrest every Italian in New Memphis. Only a very small number of Italian-Americans are Mafioso. It would be illegal and immoral to violate the constitutional rights of so man
y innocents.”
“We can do it,” said the spider commander. “Between the two of us, we have more than enough troops.”
“Our legal system does not allow such a ruthless purge of the population,” explained General Kalipetsis. “Besides, Mafioso henchmen come in all shapes, colors, races, nationalities, religions, and species. The Legion even caught an Australian contract hit man from Old Earth last month, right here in New Gobi City.”
“Maybe we can work out a compromise,” suggested the spider governor. “The New Memphis Sheriff is overwhelmed by the enormity of the Mafia problem. Perhaps a smaller joint Legion/Imperial task force can make surgical strikes against Mafia assets. Did the Legion not drop a bomb from space recently on a New Memphis office building full of Mafia bookies?”
“That matter is still under investigation,” said General Kalipetsis. “A local commander might have acted rashly. Colonel Czerinski, what do you think? Are surgical strikes in New Memphis feasible?”
“I thought the commander’s suggestion about wiping out all the Italians was a good idea,” I said, hoping to needle General Kalipetsis a bit. “It would send a strong message.”
“But I’m part Italian,” replied General Kalipetsis. “Blood lines are too mixed up in the American melting pot. It would not work.”
“I thought you were Greek,” I said.
“He’s a baptized Arab,” whispered Captain Lopez. “I don’t know how he was even allowed off Earth.”
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 5: Insurgency Page 8
