“Running drugs for the Mafia is not a respected business,” commented the spider commander. “Stop putting on airs.”
“I do not know about that,” said Desert Claw. “Some of my associates may be running drugs, but not me. I am in marketing.”
“Why are you telling me of this plot to assassinate the Royal Couple?” asked the spider commander. “Renewed patriotic fervor?”
“I want amnesty. I want to lead a normal life and be free to concentrate on my import-export business.”
“We will have taken adequate precautions even without your help. Why should you receive amnesty for revealing a plot you are responsible for hatching?”
“Because my part in the assassination attempt is just a small part of a much larger conspiracy,” explained Desert Claw. “If the assassination attempt is successful, elements of your command and of the Legion are poised to unite in mutiny in hopes of forming a totally independent government on New Colorado. Surely that information is worth amnesty.”
“I will submit your amnesty request to the governor,” promised the spider commander. “We shall see.”
After his conversation with the spider commander, Desert Claw called General Kalipetsis and gave him the same information about the Imperial assassination plot, and about the mutiny. Then he added a special twist to the story. “Colonel Czerinski plans to lead the entire First Division in mutiny,” said Desert Claw. “When Czerinski seizes command, one of his commandos, Private Laika Barker, will assassinate you with a sniper rifle outside your office in New Phoenix.”
“Why should I believe this outlandish tale of lies?” asked General Kalipetsis.
“I have no reason to lie,” answered Desert Claw. “I want amnesty. I need to tell the truth to get my amnesty.”
“I do not believe a word of your rot,” scoffed General Kalipetsis. “Give me proof of what you say!”
“Proof will become self-evident as the conspiracy unfolds,” said Desert Claw. “I have already told the Arthropodan Supreme Commander about the missile attack. Contact the commander yourself. Better yet, arrest Laika Barker and make him talk.”
“As a show of good faith, you will come to my office and talk to me face to face,” suggested General Kalipetsis. “I’ll place you in protective custody until it becomes more clear how your tale is going to play itself out.”
“You think I am a fool?” asked Desert Claw. “I do not want your protection. I want amnesty!”
Desert Claw hung up. He would call General Kalipetsis back after the general had a chance to verify the information given and contemplate more conspiracy theories.
* * * * *
General Kalipetsis called me on the phone for my monthly report. He seemed glad to talk. I immediately became suspicious.
“How are you, Colonel Czerinski?” asked General Kalipetsis. “I was just thinking about the fine job you and Captain Lopez have been doing. I will be promoting Captain Lopez to Major.”
“That’s nice,” I said. “Captain Lopez is very competent and deserves promotion. I will give him the news personally. I’m sure he will be happy to know you think so well of him.”
“How is Private Laika Barker doing?” asked General Kalipetsis. “I was very disappointed he did not work out as a newly minted second lieutenant.”
“Sergeant Green tells me Barker distinguished himself with a sniper’s rifle at that Miranda homestead skirmish,” I said. “But I am watching him closely.”
“You do that,” said General Kalipetsis, bitterly.
“I have another problem,” I said. “The spider commander is complaining that the northern wheat crop is dying from blight. He thinks the Legion is responsible. Are we?”
“No, of course not,” replied General Kalipetsis. “To even suggest such a thing is preposterous.”
“Sir, I am not so sure,” I said. “Normally it is the spiders I have to warn about adventurism along the border. But if I cannot trust you to tell the truth and act responsibly, we have a serious problem.”
“Me?” asked General Kalipetsis, innocently. “You are the one who can’t be trusted! Why should I ever trust you?”
“What? After all we have been through? Have you ever caught me in a lie?”
“Yes, many times. You have consistently lied and covered up mistakes since the first day I talked you.”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But have I ever lied about anything serious?”
“You have exploded nukes and denied it! Is that serious enough for you?”
“Okay, I’ll admit I lie once in a while,” I said. “That doesn’t mean my creditability is destroyed. I only hold back the truth in the line of duty, and to further the best interests of the Legion.”
“And to line your pockets with cash,” said General Kalipetsis. “You have sticky fingers. You’re almost as bad as Lopez!”
“Where is this conversation leading?” I asked. “Are you questioning my loyalty?”
“You bet I am,” said General Kalipetsis. “If you cross me, I’ll squash you like a bug.”
“Sir, you had better tell me what this is all about,” I demanded. “You can’t expect me to tell you everything I do. But, you’re my supreme commander. I rely on you to tell me the straight scoop. My life depends on that.”
“I give you the straight scoop,” said General Kalipetsis, “and you dump on me in return!”
“I expect you to tell me what I need to know, so together we can make informed decisions. You lied to me about an incident that could lead to war. I can’t tolerate that.”
“You had better be able to explain yourself, mister,” warned General Kalipetsis. “I am about to bust you down to private for insubordination.”
“You killed my prized tropical office plants,” I said. “Don’t try to deny it. Now, it’s not that big a deal. But, somehow you killed the spiders’ wheat crop, too. That is a big deal. Don’t try to deny it, either. It was a poor decision. Fine. That part of it is behind us. We can work together like we always do to resolve this mess, or I can file a complaint against you for treason and malfeasance of office.”
“You would never be able to make those charges stick,” said General Kalipetsis. A long moment of silence passed, after which General Kalipetsis revealed the accusations made by Desert Claw. General Kalipetsis also admitted to attacking the spiders’ wheat without prior authorization from civilian authorities. And, he confessed to killing my office plants.
“When it comes to information provided by Desert Claw, consider the source,” I said. “He is a narco-terrorist.”
“I agree,” said General Kalipetsis. “I forgot you are my most competent and ruthless commander. And, you are my most loyal commander. How shall we proceed?”
“With caution,” I advised. “Some of Desert Claw’s plot might be true. We will deal with these issues one at a time. We will lie to the spiders, of course. Offer them partial compensation for the damage to their wheat crop, but still deny sabotage. Tell them we quarantined a wheat blight on our side of the DMZ, and burned the affected fields. Somehow the blight found its way north, anyway. Apologize for not informing them of the possible hazard to their wheat crop, but that we thought the blight was under control. Offer to sell them wheat at a reasonable price. Offer a kickback to the spider commander. As for Desert Claw, go ahead and give him amnesty. We will wait and see just what he is planning. When Desert Claw finally comes out of hiding and thinks he is safe, he will be that much easier to kill. I’ll do it myself.”
“What’s this business about Barker?” asked General Kalipetsis. “Should we arrest Barker? Can Barker be trusted?”
“I don’t know. I just want to keep Barker alive for another four months.”
“Why?” asked General Kalipetsis. “I would think you would jump at the chance to arrest or kill him.”
“I have personal reasons for keeping Private Barker alive and well. Millions of personal reasons.”
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Chapter 15
A hu
ndred farm tractors and wheat combines lined up at the New Gobi City MDL border crossing on the Arthropodan side. A thousand angry spider wheat farmers accompanied their farm equipment, carrying protest signs and yelling slogans saying, ‘Legion go home,’ and ‘the Legion murdered our wheat.’ A spokesman for the spider farmers greeted Corporals Tonelli and Valdez at the Legion checkpoint.
“What’s this all about?” asked Guido. “I thought you farmers were getting compensated for the blight that escaped our quarantine.”
“The pittance the Legion offered is not nearly enough,” announced the farmers’ spokesman. “The Legion deliberately destroyed the livelihood of thousands of families. We are here to present a full accounting of our losses to Legion Headquarters.”
“I’ll take your petition for damages and personally deliver it to Colonel Czerinski,” offered Guido. “Okay?”
“No!” replied the farmers’ spokesman. “We will deliver an accounting ourselves, to make sure the Legion hears us.”
“You can’t do that,” said Guido. “The border is closed to all traffic.”
“Since when?” asked the spokesman.
“Since right now,” replied Guido. “I just closed it. If you want, I’ll escort a representative to Legion Headquarters to present your claims, but there is no way this mob of angry redneck spiders on tractors is crossing the border.”
“And what happens if we decide to crash the gate?” asked the spokesman. “What can the two of you do to stop us?”
“I will shoot you first,” warned Guido. “Anyone crossing the MDL is trespassing and subject to lethal force, arrest, and impounding of their property. The full force of the Foreign Legion stands behind me.”
“I see,” said the spokesman, turning away and walking back to discuss the matter with other spider farmers. “Threats will not deter us!”
“That is how you deal with troublemakers,” said Guido, giving Valdez a high-five slap. “You have to be firm with spiders, especially with their leaders. I am firm, but fair.”
“You sure told him,” said Corporal Valdez. “Did you see how mad he got when he left? I swear that spider’s mandibles were twitching and turning beet red.”
The sound of a hundred engines drowned out their conversation. The first tractor smashed through the border crossing gate at full speed. Its large tractor tire sideswiped the guard shack. The shattered building fell on its side with the two surprised legionnaires still inside. Guido’s monitor dragon, Spot, hissed at the tractors and nipped at their wheels as the convoy rolled by to Legion Headquarters.
Desert Claw and several other terrorists crossed the border with the farmers. At legion Headquarters, the tractors and combines formed a semi circle, honking horns. TV news crews were already waiting. I looked out my office window, locked the front door, and called for Legion reinforcements to secure the area. Captain Lopez arrived with two companies of infantry and three armored cars. By that time, several windows and the front of the building had already been trashed with rocks and rotten food.
“Maybe if we went out and talked to them,” suggested Captain Lopez, “it might calm them down.”
“Maybe you can do that,” I said, “but I am staying inside.”
“A whiff of grape shot would clear the streets of such rabble,” sneered Captain Lopez, tucking his hand inside his shirt flap and pacing back and forth as he scanned the enemy, doing his best Napoleon Bonaparte imitation. “But, it will be easier if we just go out and let them have their TV moment.”
“Fine,” I said, leading the way outside. The crowd immediately started booing and throwing vegetables.
“You should not go out there!” advised Valerie, following on my heels, still wearing hers. “This is how I died at the U.S. Embassy in Beijing. The crowd overwhelmed us. They planned our murders.”
“I’ve survived tougher spots,” I replied, as I surveyed the crowd for leaders. By now, I had snipers deployed on the roof. “They just want to be on TV.”
“Are you still hearing voices?” asked Captain Lopez.
“Yes, I hear voices all the time.”
“Perhaps more medication will help.”
“Don’t worry about me. I don’t want help. The voices love me.”
“That’s all I need,” commented Captain Lopez, shaking his head and crossing himself for luck. “A loco commander who still talks to his imaginary friends.”
“I have good news and bad news,” I said, changing the subject and hoping to give Lopez encouragement. “The bad news is, you get to talk to the mob. The good news is, I’m promoting you to major. I already talked to General Kalipetsis about it. If we live, I’ll pin the rank on your shoulders personally.”
“Who is in charge of this crowd?” yelled Major Lopez, immediately taking command and broadcasting on a handheld PA speaker. He dodged a tomato as the crowd surged forward again.
“I am!” answered a spider leader, pushing forward through the crowd. “I have a comprehensive bill for damages in regard to your admitted biological attack on our wheat harvest!”
“We did not attack your wheat crop,” responded Major Lopez. “But I will present your bill to the Military Governor, General Kalipetsis. He has admitted some fault and is giving fair consideration to your claims. This will take time to sort out.”
“He lies!” yelled a spider from the back of the crowd. “Burn the Legion out!”
The crowd surged forward again. Legionnaires forming a three-deep line in front of Legion Headquarters pushed and prodded back with assault rifles and bayonets. From atop a tractor, Desert Claw scanned the lines of legionnaires until he found Private Laika Barker at the front. Desert Claw pointed out Private Barker to the other insurgents, then started his tractor. He gunned the tractor engine, let out the clutch, and lurched forward over the top of spider demonstrators and into legionnaires. The tractor kept going until crashing into the front wall of Legion Headquarters, leaving a large gaping hole in the façade. As spider farmers breached the Legion line, insurgents threw grenades at Private Barker. Others fired their rifles.
Private Krueger, standing his ground next to Private Barker, swatted back grenades with his rifle like baseballs. Explosions caused panic and death. Legionnaires returned fire into the crowd. The insurgents used tractors and protesters for cover. Legion snipers on the Headquarters roof picked off some insurgents. Protesters were caught in the crossfire. Desert Claw, who had fallen off his tractor, retreated back to safety across the MDL.
* * * * *
The Wheat Protest Massacre was broadcast live on Channel Five World News Tonight with Phil Coen. I was forced to grant Coen an interview.
“Colonel Czerinski, many spiders refer to you as The Butcher of New Colorado because you have commanded legionnaires at the scene of several alleged brutal massacres,” said Phil Coen. “In light of this most recent incident turned deadly, already dubbed by many as The Wheat Protest Massacre, how do you respond to charges of excessive force and murder?”
“Well Phil,” I started, “you are under arrest for making inflammatory provocative statements during a declared State of Emergency. Have a nice day, Phil.” Legionnaires pummeled Phil as he was dragged away.
* * * * *
Upon hearing that Private Laika Barker was one of several seriously injured legionnaires, I rushed to the hospital to check on his welfare. Private Barker’s medical status had been upgraded overnight from serious to stable. He seemed to be glad to see me.
“Sir, it is nice of you to visit,” said Private Barker. “It warms my heart to know my commanding officer really does care.”
“I care about the welfare of all legionnaires under my command,” I replied. “I feel the responsibility of a father to you all.”
“I think you are especially caring about my welfare lately,” commented Private Barker. “I had a dream last night. I was floating above my bed being drawn to a bright white light.”
“You had a near-death experience?” I asked, alarmed. “How do you feel now?
Does the doctor know of this?”
“I feel better, thank you for asking,” said Private Barker. “In my dream, a familiar voice was calling me. It was your voice, colonel.”
“Why would I be calling you to Heaven?” I asked. “Are you sure the bright light wasn’t a red-hot glow?”
“You joke, but my vision is a serious matter. Everything is clear to me now. Do you want to know what your voice told me? It said, ‘Don’t die, Laika, I have money bet on your living three more months!’”
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. You are obviously still suffering from shock. I’ll have the doc check your medication. You need to go back to sleep and get some rest. Everything will be better tomorrow.”
“It all makes sense now. You want me safe because you placed a large bet on my life with New Memphis bookies.”
“Be glad I bet on you to live,” I warned. “I could have fixed your death a lot easier.”
“But this way you got better odds,” commented Private Barker. “Smart. I’m still concerned about what happens after three months. I want something out of this deal. After all, I’m taking all the risks. I want my lieutenant’s commission back, and I want a cut of the action. If not, I might start feeling depressed and suicidal.”
“I doubt you have any suicidal tendencies,” I said. “Forget your commission. I like you better as a private.”
“How about if I go AWOL?” asked Private Barker. “What would that scenario do to your bet? I happen to know that the bet is void if I leave New Gobi.”
“Okay, maybe we can work something out,” I conceded. “I’ll give you a cut of my wager. But, I can’t promote you to lieutenant. It practically takes an act of Congress to mint a new commission.”
“You will not be minting a new commission,” argued Private Barker. “I merely require that my old commission be returned. Now! You’re buds with General Kalipetsis. Reverse the findings of my court martial and return my rank.”
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 5: Insurgency Page 10
