Culture War

by Walter Knight

  “I see,” said the spider commander, giving thought to just shooting these two fools. But, he was planning on opening the border to traffic soon anyway, and that pizza looked too good to risk spilling human pestilence blood on it. The spider commander decided he would keep the money and the pizza. “Consider the border opened as of now. And, consider yourselves under arrest for making threats to a government official.”

  Spider marines rushed in as the commander set off an alarm. Carlos O’Neil and Mr. Kennworth spent the night in jail. They were both released in the morning. Mr. Kennworth was warned to never set foot in North New Gobi City, or he would be shot on sight. Carlos was instructed to deliver sausage and pepperoni with extra cheese pizza once a month, with more cash.

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  Chapter 4

  Air Wing Pilot #82, flying the latest Arthropodan fighter jet star craft along the DMZ, suddenly broke formation from his squadron and veered south across the MDL. The jet fighter accelerated, adding distance from the other fighters. His fellow pilots declined to give chase. Already, Legion anti-aircraft batteries were locked in and targeting them.

  Air Wing Pilot #82 flew directly toward the Legion airfield at New Phoenix. He broadcast a Mayday signal until making radio contact with Legion air control. “I wish to defect,” said #82. “I wish to collect the five-million-dollar reward for delivering an intact top-secret Air Wing star fighter. I wish to live in Montana and raise cows. I wish to be an American cowboy. I wish to live on the range where the deer and the antelope play!”

  #82 was directed to a side runway and taken into protective custody. Military Intelligence Officer Major Lopez was brought in to interrogate #82.

  “I have the authority to grant you political asylum if you answer all questions truthfully,” promised Major Lopez.

  “Yes, of course,” said #82. “You will find my Air Wing star fighter to be an engineering marvel far more advanced than anything the Legion flies.”

  “Technical experts will question you about the details of your plane later,” said Major Lopez. “What can you tell us about Air Wing operations?”

  “That helicopter you recently shot down was a setup,” said #82. “Our commander wanted you to shoot it down to provoke an incident.”

  “Why would he put your pilot in such risk?” asked Major Lopez. “That seems reckless.”

  “We needed a pretext to close the border and rally public opinion,” said #82. “In every defeat comes new strength. Our military is more determined now than ever to rebuff Americanism.”

  “Oh?” asked Major Lopez. “I have yet to see any changes in deployment of your troops.”

  “A no-fraternization order is now in effect,” said #82. “Satellite TV is banned. The border was briefly closed, and you can expect more border-crossing restrictions.”

  “That is nothing,” commented Major Lopez. “What do I care of such nuisances?”

  “Closing the border has cost millions,” said #82. “But, that’s just the first shots of the war. You aren’t even shooting back yet, because the changes have come in such small increments. The Emperor wants to fight a cultural war for the minds of our citizens. The Emperor says he fears the contamination of Americanism. But what he is really afraid of is freedom. I am not afraid. I want to go to Big Sky Country. I want to live in Montana. I want to see Yellowstone National Park and Old Faithful Geyser. I want to talk to Smokey the Bear.”

  “Yellowstone is in Wyoming,” said Major Lopez. “It’s the next state over.”

  “No problem,” said #82. “I will drive to Yellowstone in my Chevy pickup truck. I want to be a cowboy. I want a red neck and a big hat. I want to chase little doggies on a cattle drive. I want the five million dollars cash promised for landing my new Air Wing star fighter safely.”

  “What makes you think you’re tough enough to be a vaquero?” asked Major Lopez. “Have you ever even been on a horse? No. You can’t ride. You would probably fall off and break your neck.”

  “I will not fall,” said #82. “I have true grit. God bless America and Smokey the Bear!”

  * * * * *

  The spider commando drifted across the MDL. At night, his black parachute and fatigues made him invisible against the dark sky. The commando guided his parachute south, using the flashing red light of a beacon mounted atop a commercial radio tower. Radio Free New Colorado broadcast subversive music and news to the North. Attempts at jamming the powerful signal had failed. Negotiations to shut down the station or alter content had also failed. Now the Arthropodan special forces were tasked with taking care of the problem permanently.

  After landing, the commando cut through a fence and planted explosive charges at the base of the radio tower. Then he changed into civilian clothes, buried his chute and uniform, and hiked to the highway. There he met Carlos O’Neil, who gave him a ride in his eighteen-wheeler to New Phoenix. The commando gave O’Neil a backpack half filled with explosives, to be delivered to an airbase maintenance worker. They then separated. The commando went to a safe house in New Phoenix.

  Carlos O’Neil drove to the Legion airbase where he was scheduled to deliver food products. A legionnaire gave the truck a cursory check, and was about to wave O’Neil through, when the guard’s German Shepherd dog alerted on the explosives in the truck. O’Neil was taken into custody, pending a search. Legionnaires poured over the truck, suspecting drugs. Eventually they found a secret compartment holding the backpack of explosives.

  * * * * *

  Major Lopez, disguised as a long haul trucker, easily crossed the MDL, driving north. He parked his big rig at the Marriott Hotel in North New Gobi City. He waited in the hotel lounge. At about 1900 hours, the spider Air Wing commander who had sprayed the poppy fields came in for his usual drink. Major Lopez joined him at the bar.

  “You are the last human pestilence I ever expected to see again,” said the Air Wing commander. “Should I arrest you for spying, or buy you a drink?”

  “All I want is five minutes of your time,” said Major Lopez, sliding an envelope stuffed with cash to the pilot. “Did you know the Legion was tipped off about your mission?”

  “I was wondering how you were able to detect my small low-flying craft so quickly,” said the Air Wing commander. “Now I know. Please explain.”

  “Your own commander gave you up,” said Major Lopez. “I guess that means you are expendable.”

  “We are all expendable,” said the Air Wing commander. “Although I am a bit disappointed I am more so than I realized.”

  “We can all be replaced. The Legion would not betray you so,” said Major Lopez. “We would treat you with the respect you deserve as a fellow officer. We would treat you much better.”

  “I can see that,” said the Air Wing commander, counting the hundred-dollar bills in the envelope. “What do you want?”

  “Maybe I can give you a chance for payback on your commander,” said Major Lopez. “Or maybe you can just do me a favor someday. Send me an email if something interesting comes to your attention.”

  “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”

  * * * * *

  When Major Lopez tried to cross back over the MDL there was a long line of trucks being inspected. Security seemed tighter than usual. Squads of guards approached both sides of his truck. He could see Guido and Spot pacing back and forth on their side of the MDL. Major Lopez gave Guido a nod.

  A spider border guard held a photo up to the truck window, comparing it to Major Lopez’s face. “You human pestilence all look alike,” said the spider guard. “Are you Major Lopez?”

  “No,” said Major Lopez. “I am Arthur Bodoya.”

  The border guard radioed for assistance. A team leader came over to eyeball Major Lopez. “You are under arrest for espionage and blue powder drug smuggling,” said the team leader, pointing his rifle. “I am sure there will be additional charges, Major Lopez.”

  “Blue powder?” asked Major Lopez. “I know nothing about blue powder. I am not smuggling drugs. Yo
u haven’t even searched my truck yet. It’s just loaded with fruit.”

  “Espionage is a capital offense,” said the team leader. “What do you care if we add a few more capital charges to the list? We can only hang you once.”

  Guido fired warning shots into the air. “Let him go, or my aim will get better!”

  The spider guards bundled Major Lopez up in web restraints and whisked him away. Guido had to back off because he was outnumbered. He retreated to his guard shack to report to Headquarters.

  * * * * *

  I scheduled a meeting with the spider commander to protest the destruction of the Free New Colorado radio station. We met in the conference room at Walmart because the superstore was built right on the MDL for easy-access shopping by both North and South. The MDL was painted on the floor, dividing the conference room. A smaller MDL was painted across the long conference table. The ashtray sitting in the middle of the conference table had an even smaller MDL line painted across it. I pushed the ashtray forward about a centimeter.

  “Attacks on radio stations will not be tolerated,” I said. “Are you trying to start a war?”

  “I had nothing to do with that,” said the spider commander, moving the ashtray back. “It is not my fault you cannot control an insurgency resisting human oppression.”

  “Don’t play dumb,” I said. “We found where your commando buried his parachute. And, we arrested Carlos O’Neil with a backpack of explosives. Carlos has told us everything. You planned an attack on our airbase.”

  “Carlos O’Neil, the Teamsters’ business agent?” asked the spider commander. “Whatever story he has made up is a lie. He has no credibility.”

  “Carlos has a lot to tell,” I said. “But I’ll be reasonable. I will trade you Carlos for Major Lopez.”

  “You can keep the Teamsters thug,” said the spider commander. “I don’t want him.”

  “You can avoid a scandal by making the trade,” I suggested. “Carlos says you have a taste for Pizza.”

  “It is you who should be afraid of scandal,” said the spider commander. “Major Lopez was caught with a truck containing blue powder residue in its trailer. Our investigation shows he had just made a delivery of drugs at the Marriott Hotel. Major Lopez has given us a full confession.”

  “Nonsense,” I countered. “Those charges are trumped up. Major Lopez has a financial interest in orange groves on both sides of the MDL. He was only delivering fruit.”

  “Under an assumed name and with forged documentation?” asked the spider commander. “It does not look good for Major Lopez. I suspect we will find Legion involvement in drug smuggling that will go all the way to the top of your disreputable corrupt amateur paramilitary organization. I guarantee more indictments will follow. Perhaps even your name will come up.”

  “Do you know who you are messing with?” I asked. “This outrage will not stand!”

  “Yes,” said the spider commander. “You are the Butcher of New Colorado. I always expect the worst of your ilk.”

  “I want to speak to Major Lopez in person,” I said.

  “Denied,” said the spider commander. “Only his appointed lawyer may visit. Major Lopez will be given a fair military trial, after which he will be convicted and sentenced to death. In deference to human sensibilities, Major Lopez will be given a choice of execution methods, to include firing squad, hanging, or the electric table.”

  “You will release Major Lopez, or there will be serious consequences,” I threatened. “I will hold you personally responsible for his welfare.”

  “I have tried to be reasonable with you in the past,” said the spider commander. “But you have refused to destroy the poppy fields, blamed the drug problem on our consumption, and failed to negotiate in good faith. You have brought these trying times on yourself. Are you ready to be reasonable now?”

  “I am always willing to be reasonable,” I said. “But you have kidnapped Major Lopez on trumped-up charges. You are insincere. I believe you are trying to provoke a war, and I am going to give it to you.”

  “Don’t try it,” said the spider commander. “You will lose. Besides, you don’t have the authority to start a war, and neither do I. All I want is cooperation.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll meet you tomorrow, same place, same time. I’ll bring some cards.”

  * * * * *

  Under the cover of darkness, three Legion helicopters full of paratroopers darted across the MDL to attack the spider detention facility and free Major Lopez. A gust of wind blew up a New Gobi Desert dust devil, obscuring pilot vision and causing two of the helicopters to collide. The third helicopter circled back and landed at the crash site to recover as many dead and wounded as it could. It then raced back across the MDL to safety.

  * * * * *

  The spider commander sat back in his chair reviewing photos of the helicopter crash site. “Stupid human pestilence,” he mused out loud to himself. “What were they thinking? That they could just break Major Lopez out of jail at will? That we could not stop them? That we are just sitting here twiddling our claws?”

  A knock at the door interrupted him. It was the pizza and salad he had ordered from Pizza Hut for lunch. As the office door swung open, the spider commander reached for his pistol, but was not quick enough. The spider Teamster thug Mr. Kennworth stuck a large knife under the spider commander’s chin. The slight prick on the soft tissue of the throat drew a couple droplets of blood.

  “I want Carlos O’Neil released,” demanded Mr. Kennworth, as he took the commander’s pistol.

  “O’Neil is being held by the Legion,” said the spider commander. “I cannot help you.”

  “Carlos was on a mission for you,” said Mr. Kennworth., applying more knife pressure under the chin to get the commander’s attention. “That makes you responsible for his welfare and getting him back.”

  “Still, you need to talk to the Legion,” said the spider commander. “What can I do?”

  “I did talk to the Legion,” said Mr. Kennworth. “Colonel Czerinski promised Carlos would suffer a slow and painful death. He also said you had been offered a trade for Major Lopez, but had refused. You need to reconsider Czerinski’s offer.”

  “That would not be a fair trade,” said the spider commander. “I need more.”

  “What could be more fair than including your life in the trade?” asked Mr. Kennworth. “You take Carlos’s money and send him on a dangerous mission behind Legion lines, and yet you feel no responsibility to get him back? You are a real bendaho!”

  “A what?” asked the spider commander, checking his translation device. “What is a bendaho?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Mr. Kennworth. “It’s a human term, and it is not good.”

  The spider commander tapped his translation device again. ‘Bendaho’ translated to ‘asshole.’ That made no sense. ‘Asshole’ translated to ‘poop chute.’ What? “Why would you call me a poop chute?”

  “It’s Old Earth slang,” explained Mr. Kennworth. “Border lingo is not supposed to make sense. The reality of the situation is, I will cut off your head if we can’t make a deal about Carlos.”

  “Okay, okay,” said the spider commander. “But first I need a little more time to interrogate Major Lopez. Also, I want to show him off to the press on TV. I will make the trade. Is that satisfactory?”

  “You have one week,” said Mr. Kennworth, releasing the spider commander. Mr. Kennworth darted out the door.

  The spider commander, after wiping the blood off his neck, ordered the arrest of Mr. Kennworth. However, the Teamster thug traitor was not to be found.

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  Chapter 5

  Phil Coen of Channel Five World News Tonight arrived at the Arthropodan detention facility in North New Gobi City to film interviews with Major Lopez and his captors. Per Legion instructions, Coen kept his camera filming long before the interview, panning wide angle shots of all exits, windows, and hallways. Coen also dropped miniature listening devices and
cameras as he was escorted through the facility. I promised Coen an exclusive during the next rescue attempt.

  Major Lopez could be seen through a two-way mirror, seated at a table flanked by spider guards. He had one eye swollen shut and seemed haggard. Major Lopez wore an orange jumpsuit. A spider interrogator started the interview by turning up the lights and directing a question at Major Lopez. “Tell the galaxy the full extent of Legion involvement in blue powder drug smuggling on New Colorado,” ordered the spider interrogator. “Tell the truth, or you will be sorry!”

  Major Lopez smiled, flipped the cameras a one-fingered salute, and popped a yellow capsule into his mouth. Still smiling, Major Lopez bit down on the capsule. “No mas!” he shouted as he fell unconscious to the floor.

  Spider military and reporters rushed into the room to check Major Lopez and render aid. The response from the Legion watching on TV was immediate. Artillery all along the MDL in New Gobi City targeted the detention facility and other military targets. The large oil tank farm on the edge of town was soon ablaze. The fire would burn for days, lighting up the night sky. The spiders fired back. Both sides scrambled planes for bombing runs before the shooting finally stopped in the evening.

  Major Lopez had not attempted suicide, although it had appeared so. The CIA no longer issued cyanide capsules to its operatives. The yellow pill was merely a knockout drug to provide temporary relief from prolonged interrogation. The dramatic effect of Major Lopez keeling over almost started a nuclear exchange. Both sides blamed the other for shooting first, but neither could prove anything. The Legion said it was just another example of Arthropodan adventurism. The spiders said it was just one more atrocity committed by the Butcher of New Colorado.