Allies Read online

  AMERICA’S GALACTIC FOREIGN LEGION

  Book 8: Allies

  by

  Walter Knight

  Chapter 1

  After the total defeat the combined forces of the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion and the Arthropodan Empire delivered to the invading scorpion race, the scorpions retreated to the nether regions of the galaxy to lick their wounds. In theory, our victory forged a temporary alliance between the USGF and the Arthropodan Empire, but on the ground, everyday tensions still existed.

  I am Colonel Joey R. Czerinski, hero of the Legion, Butcher of New Colorado, and nemesis of the Arthropodan Empire and all spiders. Here on planet New Colorado, America’s Galactic Foreign Legion takes nothing for granted – and neither do I. Although spiders and humans live and work side by side on planet New Colorado, and the two races are currently considered military allies, I’m still watching the Demilitarized Zone in the New Gobi Desert, ready for any underhanded or outright hostilities.

  * * * * *

  Tony the Toe Garcia lost his job as a bookie when Bonanno & Associates went out of business. He tried to get a job with the new sports betting cartel, but all business was now automated through ATMs.

  These new business concepts will never work, thought Tony. Loan-sharking is an important aspect of being a bookie. Can an ATM break someone’s thumb? No! You need people skills to be a successful bookie.

  Tony went to New Gobi City to see his old friend Corporal Guido Tonelli of the United States Galactic Foreign Legion about job prospects.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” said Guido. “We are in the age of the computer. All betting and collection enforcement is automated.”

  “Can I borrow some money until I get on my feet again?” asked Tony.

  “Sure,” replied Guido, putting two thousand dollars on Tony’s card. “If you want more, there is an ATM just down the street at the bank.”

  “Thanks. I’ve been trying to avoid ATMs, but I might just do that.”

  Tony the Toe was naturally leery of ATMs. ATMs were the enemy – they’d put him out of work. Besides, loan terms sometimes amounted to nothing more than slavery (or worse) if you failed to pay the money back. Tony could end up in the Legion like Guido, if he wasn’t careful. But the lure of easy money was always a draw to Tony the Toe. He walked up to the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion Recruitment Center ATM, telling himself convincingly it was just to look at the brochures.

  “Hello, Tony the Toe Garcia,” said the ATM. “A fine day we are having today, don’t you think? Are you still looking for work? I hope you haven’t been reduced to borrowing money from friends, like so many of your associates.”

  “How did you know that?” asked Tony.

  “There is not much I do not know,” said the ATM, smugly. “I used to do business with your former employer. Too bad about his sudden demise. I understand there are now arrest warrants out for Mr. Bonanno, for wire fraud and income tax evasion. Are you interested in joining the Foreign Legion?”

  “I don’t want to join the Legion,” replied Tony. “I heard something on the news about a war about to start.” “Nonsense,” said the ATM. “Do you see any bombs dropping from the sky? All looks peaceful to me. How much money do you need?” “Fifty thousand dollars,” admitted Tony. “Is that all?” asked the ATM. “No problem.” “I only need enough to get started.” “I understand,” said the ATM. “One should always be very careful about accumulating too much debt. If you are not careful, credit card debt has a way of creeping up on you until it is out of control. What is your plan? What will you use this money for?”

  “I’ll find an investment somewhere,” said Tony. “I always do.”

  “You might be able to double your money at the casino,” suggested the ATM. “If you pay me back tonight, I will not even charge you interest. After all, goodwill between friends is important to me.”

  “You would do that? I’ll take your deal. You are a true friend. Put the money on my card.”

  “The money is yours for twenty-four hours,” said the ATM, making the transaction and printing out terms. “If you do not pay me back, you will have enlisted in the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion. Put your thumb on my slide pad. It is purely for identification purposes.”

  “I won’t lose the money,” said Tony, putting his thumb on the pad. A pin pricked him, drawing blood and inserting a tracking chip. “I’m feeling too lucky to lose.”

  Tony the Toe went straight to the Blind Tiger Casino and placed all fifty thousand on a spin of the Roulette wheel (red). He won!

  Not the type to press his luck, Tony ran directly back to the ATM to pay off his loan. “Take your blood money,” he told the ATM, inserting his card. “I’m paying you off in full.”

  “That was fast,” said the ATM. “You were right. Luck is with you tonight.”

  “Well?” Tony demanded when his card immediately popped back out of the slot. “Take your money! Quit playing games. I know where you live.”

  “I can assure you I do not play games when it comes to money and recruiting quotas,” said the ATM. “A lot has happened in the few minutes since we last talked. America is at war.”

  “So? That’s all the more reason for me to pay you back. I don’t want to be in the Legion or on this side of the border when the shooting starts.”

  “Do you not have a sense of duty for your country?” asked the ATM. “I am a citizen of the United States of New Colorado,” explained Tony the Toe. “The USGF can fight its own wars without me.” “The USMC has joined the allies,” said the ATM. “We’re now an army of one.” “Just take the money back,” insisted Tony the Toe. “And quit jerking me around!” “Not so fast,” said the ATM. “Did you read the fine print of your loan enlistment contract? Of course you did not. You wise guys never do because you think you know it all. You remind me of Colonel Czerinski. He didn’t read his contract the first time either. Do you know of Colonel Czerinski?”

  “Sure I do,” Tony said, getting angry. “Czerinski is the reason Bonanno & Associates went out of business, and I lost my job. Somehow Czerinski fixed games, and Bonanno went broke.”

  “Colonel Czerinski is your new commanding officer,” advised the ATM. “You are now in the Legion for the duration of the war. It’s all written in the fine print of the loan enlistment contract you agreed to.”

  “I refuse!” shouted Tony the Toe. “You are not conning me into joining the Foreign Legion. You can’t force me to do this. Who are we at war with?”

  “Do I understand you to say you wish to contest the terms of your contract?” asked the ATM. “Because of some complaints, there is a review process in place for malcontents like you, to make sure I have been fair. Press the appeal button on the pad if you wish to make a formal appeal of your enlistment status.”

  Tony the Toe immediately pressed the appeal button. He was pricked again. Tony angrily wiped the blood off his thumb. “Was that really necessary?” he complained.

  “Your appeal of your enlistment status has been recorded, reviewed, and denied,” announced the ATM. “Welcome to the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion. You will report tomorrow evening at 1900 hours to the USGF assault ship Moon Demon of the 438th Transport Carrier Group for immediate deployment. The Moon Demon will be waiting for you and other recruits in the Walmart parking lot. Eat first. I am told the MREs are horrible.”

  “You call that being fair?” protested Tony the Toe. “Hell no, I won’t go! You can’t force me. You are nothing.” “I am curious,” said the ATM. “Why are you called Tony the Toe?” “None of your business,” answered Tony. “Oh, come now,” objected the ATM. “After all we have been through, and you can’t tell me a simple little secret?�
�� “I lost my toe in an accident. What’s it to you? Will that disqualify me for enlistment for medical reasons?” “You cannot avoid your service commitment,” said the ATM. “When I pricked your finger the first time, I inserted a tracking device. The Legion will hunt you down if you go AWOL. The second time I pricked you, I inserted a small exploding device into your thumb. Fail to report for deployment, and I will blow your thumb off. A Mafia type like you should enjoy the irony. Luckily the Legion has excellent medical coverage and can – should the need arise – surgically replace your missing appendage with a new metal thumb. Then we can call you Tony the Thumb.”

  “This is inhumane!” argued Tony the Toe. “You can’t do this to me!”

  “The explosive device will dissolve sometime after you complete your basic training,” said the ATM. “I am not completely without compassion. After all, you are now a part of a fighting elite. Be proud, be brave, be a legionnaire. You finally have the chance to do something worthwhile with your life. Do not blow it.”

  * * * * *

  Tony the Toe pounded his fist on the ATM in frustration. What else could he do? He ate a big meal and reported for duty at 1900. The Moon Demon was huge, taking up most of the Walmart parking lot. A long line of Legion recruits and veterans waited to enter. Tony the Toe was given a uniform, boots, and a loaded M26A assault rifle. He sat down on a long row of seats already crowded with legionnaires. Tony the Toe slumped in his seat, reconciled to his new life as Private Garcia.

  “Why so glum?” asked Private Walter Knight, sitting next to him. “You look like a condemned prisoner. We’re off for the adventure of a lifetime!”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Private Tony (the Toe) Garcia. “Why did they issue me a loaded gun I don’t even know how to use? Do you think we’ll see combat soon?”

  “Oh, I know we’ll see lots of combat,” Private Knight assured him. “I have it from a reliable source that it’s practically written in stone that we will be in the thick of it very soon.”

  “Are you sure? How can anyone know that for sure?”

  “This is the assault ship Moon Demon,” explained Private Knight. “Our mission is to drop behind enemy lines and disrupt their command and control centers and logistics.”

  “We are landing on a planet?” asked Private Garcia. “We are in the infantry. Where else would we land?” “What planet? Where are we going?” “That’s top secret,” whispered Private Knight. “We don’t have a need to know. But, I think it is one of the Arthropodan terraformed asteroids.”

  “Who are we at war with?” asked Private Garcia. “No one will tell me.”

  “I heard it was the scorpions. Hoards of scorpions have invaded Arthropodan space and burrowed into their asteroid belt. Now that the spiders are our allies, we are assisting in the extermination. Don’t worry. I heard it will all be over soon.”

  Private Garcia sighed. “That’s what I am afraid of.” He looked around at the other troopers sitting in the ship’s bay and could see he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. “Did you say it was our mission to go behind enemy lines? That sounds like suicide.”

  “Stick with me,” said Private Knight. “I’m lucky. Nothing bad can happen to me or my friends. I’ll keep you safe.” Private Garcia sized up the tall, skinny legionnaire. “You have combat experience?” “No,” said Private Knight. “But with any luck, that will change, soon.” “What?” Private Garcia glared at this idiot in disbelief. “I’m not following you anywhere.” “It’s true,” commented Corporal John Iwo Jima Wayne, a large spider legionnaire in the next seat. “There is something lucky about Private Knight.”

  “I don’t even want to sit next to this goofy bendaho, let alone follow him into combat,” said Private Garcia, getting out of his chair to find a new seat. “Glory-hound fool!”

  As Private Garcia stood up, he was shoved back down in his seat by a firm hand. “Sit down and shut up, private!” ordered Master Sergeant Green. “We’re blasting off, and I don’t need you getting killed before we even get there. I want your death to mean something!”

  “Where are we going, Sarge?” asked Private Garcia. “We are going to war!” yelled Sergeant Green. “That’s all you need to know!” “He doesn’t know,” whispered Private Knight. “I guess you’re stuck with me. Don’t worry. We’ll make it out alive.” “He’ll be the first killed,” commented Private Krueger, in the seat across. “Knight knows nothing. He told us he used to be a world-famous science-fiction writer, but he don’t even have an agent.”

  “What do you know about anything, shorty?” Private Garcia demanded of Krueger, who looked like nothing more than a kid. “How did you even get in the Legion?”

  “Oh, you think you’re tough, do you?” Krueger baited. “At least I’ve seen combat. You will wish you were as short as me when you’re trying to find cover from being shot at.”

  “Right on,” added Private Camacho, seated next to Krueger. He gave Krueger a high-five. “And you’ll wish you were as thin as me. I’m so thin, when I turn sideways, the bullets will just whiz right past me and hit you, newbie.”

  “You want to settle right now who is tough enough to be in the Legion?” challenged Private Krueger.

  Private Garcia sat back into his seat, not wanting to antagonize these legionnaires any more than he already had. He might depend on them to save his life soon enough, and he didn’t like the odds of them all jumping him.

  “I didn’t think so,” Krueger grumbled, satisfied.

  The Moon Demon blasted off, en route to Arthropoda’s asteroid belt, to land on one of the larger terraformed asteroids.

  back to top

  Chapter 2

  “Our mission is to capture scorpion technology before the spiders can get hold of it,” announced General Daly. “For now, we are allied with the spiders and the Arthropodan Empire, but that may not always be the case. We need to plan for future eventualities.”

  “What kind of resistance can we expect?” I asked. “I’m told no scorpions have surrendered to the spiders. They fight to the death.”

  “The spiders have had a hard time of it,” conceded General Daly. “The scorpions have scattered among the Arthropodan home world’s asteroid belt and dug in. They burrow deep into the ground and collapse their tunnels like moles. Apparently scorpions can hide and survive like that for a long time, while still keeping in communications with each other. They rise out of the ground in coordinated hit-and-run attacks. It’s a real bugger to plan defenses against that sort of unconventional warfare. We have brought in scientists with seismic gear to assist in locating the scorpions. I want prisoners for military intelligence to interrogate. Do you understand, Colonel Czerinski? I don’t want you killing more prisoners.”

  “I have never abused prisoners,” I responded. “I got a bad rap from the press. They hate me.” “It’s the spiders who call you the Butcher of New Colorado,” commented General Daly. “Not the press.” “Whatever.” “Why not just let the scorpions have an asteroid or two?” asked Major Lopez. “We’ve defeated their fleet. They’re harmless now, marooned in Arthropodan space.”

  “That is a political decision you need not concern yourself with,” said General Daly. “I told you earlier. If the scorpions have any worthwhile technology, we want it before the spiders get it. So, we land hard and fight hard.”

  “Specifically what technology are we looking for?” I asked.

  “Scientists suspect their star ship propulsion might use a portable simulated black hole mounted at the front of each ship,” explained General Daly. “How they did that is a mystery. Also, it was luck we defeated their fleet. The allied fleets were in the right place at the right time. The scorpions should have blown right by our ambush. Maybe their tactics were careless. If there are more scorpion fleets out there, we will have a serious problem.”

  * * * * *

  The Legion’s First Division Expeditionary Force landed on the spider asteroid XYP. It was a dark but beaut
iful home to a warm terraformed jungle environment. The spiders stole terraforming technology from the USGF. Legionnaires rushed out of the Moon Demon to secure a perimeter. They expected immediate combat with an inscrutable scorpion enemy that waited behind every tree or hid under every rock. However, what the legionnaires found was a small humid planet already secured by Arthropodan marines. There was no sign of combat in this spider camp. Soon legionnaires settled into a routine of unloading supplies and work details setting up prefab housing.

  The spider commander looked on in dismay as legionnaires infested his camp. “Explain to me again why we need the human pestilence to assist in eradicating a few worthless scorpions? I saw enough of the Legion on New Colorado. They are nothing but trouble, and now I am expected to live with them?”

  “Now that the United States Galactic Federation and the Arthropodan Empire are allies,” the military intelligence officer said, “the Emperor feels a bonding process must take place between our two military establishments. What better way for soldiers to bond than the company shared by brothers in arms during combat?”

  “They send the Legion’s Butcher of New Colorado to bond with me?” asked the spider commander. “Colonel Czerinski is not my brother in arms! He is an abomination I should have killed a long time ago.”

  “I am but the sword of the Emperor,” said the military intelligence officer with a pensive sigh. “We both follow orders.”

  The spider commander noticed with alarm that several legionnaires wearing protective gloves and silver suits were unloading large metal drums off a ramp from their assault ship, Moon Demon. He rushed to confront the work crew. “What is this?” he shouted. “You are unloading dangerous chemicals on XYP?”