Salesman From Mars Page 12

  “You mean they might vote Democrat?” asked Captain Perkins incredulously. “Exactly!” “But most of Chicago’s dead voters are Democrats.” “All the more need for us to remain vigilant against this sort of thing,” insisted Colonel Czerinski. “I still say we need to bring in a lawyer,” advised Captain Perkins. “Fine!” relented Colonel Czerinski, pacing back and forth. “A Legion lawyer will parachute in with you. It’s no big loss if he gets killed too. Happy now?”

  “Yes, sir! I appreciate your confidence in me, sir.”

  * * * * *

  CIA Special Agent Willie Culp insisted on experienced legionnaire commandos for the mission. Colonel Czerinski agreed to send two of his best commandos, privates Pierce and Shaky Jake. Also present for the parachute drop was a nervous Legion attorney, Mr. Depoli.

  “I don’t see why I got drafted for this,” complained Depoli. “I mostly do civil liability cases. This is Czerinski’s doing. That guy hates me.”

  “All colonists are subject to reserve duty at any time,” advised Captain Perkins. “It’s the law. Welcome to the Legion.”

  “It’s my legal opinion that this is highly irregular,” advised Depoli, staring out the open shuttle door at the blackness. “How far is it to the ground?”

  “Just let the computer guide you in!” advised Sergeant Green, pushing Mr. Depoli out of the shuttle. “Next!”

  Commandos followed, landing safely at the hilltop grave sites. I found one of the little bugs, held it up to my face, and spoke into it.

  “This sucks,” I announced, hoping to broadcast directly to Czerinski. “I didn’t volunteer! I’ve retained counsel and plan to sue! Depoli says this isn’t right!”

  “No one can answer you,” advised Corporal Wayne, snatching the bug. “Be quiet, or I’ll shut you up forever!”

  CIA Special Agent Willie Culp stooped down beside the Miranda boy’s tombstone. “Hello! Anyone home?” he called out, rapping his knuckles on the tombstone. No answer.

  “Now what?” asked Captain Perkins, impatiently. “At daylight the spiders will spot us for sure.”

  “We wait,” advised Agent Culp.

  “If you’ve risked our lives for nothing, you will be the first killed,” threatened Corporal Wayne, poking his claw at Agent Culp. “There is no such thing as ghosts.”

  “You want to bet?” asked Shaky Jake. “I’ve seen ghosts with all eight eyes. This place is haunted with human pestilence!”

  “It’s okay if you have doubts,” advised Agent Culp. “I don’t blame you. But, I brought a secret weapon.” Agent Culp unstrapped his heavy duffel bag, opening it for all to see. He produced a metallic brain imprint memorial. It was Private Camacho. He pressed the activation button.

  “Camacho! How the Hell are you?” I asked, glad to see my old friend again.

  “I feel like I’ve been drafted back into the Legion!” complained Camacho. “I knew I should have asked for my discharge papers in writing. Sending me on a commando mission after I’m already dead sucks big time. What if I get killed?”

  “I agree,” commented Mr. Depoli. “I am willing to represent your interests on this matter. It is my legal opinion that you have been kidnapped and illegally pressed into Legion service.”

  “How much do you think we can get?” asked Camacho’s imprint memorial. “Three-point-four million dollars,” promised Mr. Depoli. “I guarantee it.” “Technically you were never officially discharged from the Legion,” explained Agent Culp. “The hell I wasn’t,” argued Camacho. “If dying can’t get you an honorable discharge, what can?” “You’re in for the duration,” said Agent Culp. “Just like every other Legionnaire. Read the fine print in your enlistment contract.”

  “I can beat that on appeal,” commented Mr. Depoli smugly. “This is easily a breach of implied contract case, if I have ever seen one.”

  “Hear that?” shouted Camacho. “Breach of contract!”

  An ice cold breeze blew from the North as a wisp of cloud obscured the moon. None will leave this hill alive, whispered a voice on the breeze.

  “Are you happy now?” asked Shaky Jake, glaring at Wayne. “I told you this place was haunted. Believe me now? Camacho! Do something! Talk to it!”

  “How’s it hanging, bro?” asked Camacho, trying to bond with the spirit. “You don’t want to kill me. I’m already dead, bro!”

  Czerinski sent a machine to talk to me? asked the voice on the wind. Ha, ha, ha. You will all die slow and painful!

  “I’m not feeling the love,” responded Camacho.

  I will especially enjoy destroying you, threatened the voice on the wind.

  “Fuck you, bendaho!” replied Camacho. “And the breeze you blew in on, punk!”

  Before I kill you all, tell me why was the Legion sent to disturb my peace? asked the voice on the wind. Not enough ghosts on your side of the border?

  “We’re concerned about you,” answered Camacho. “See how you treat us?”

  “Cut the crap, and get to the heart of the matter,” interrupted Mr. Depoli. “Are you a Democrat or a Republican? Inquiring minds want to know for the ten-year census and the next election.”

  Democrat, answered the voice on the wind. I intend to vote too!

  “We’re out of here!” announced Mr. Depoli. “Colonel Czerinski told me that if the ghost was democrat, all deals are off!”

  “Wait!” ordered Captain Perkins. “You are still a USGF citizen, even if you are a ghost and a Democrat. What can we do to make things right with you?”

  Join me and die!

  “Besides that,” insisted Captain Perkins.

  “Don’t be so harsh dude,” advised Pierce, trying to be helpful. “You’re coming on like some kind of ghost psycho. Have you ever considered counseling? Anger management? It worked for me. How about rehab?”

  I don’t need no stinking counseling! said the voice on the breeze. The wind picked up a bit.

  “He’s right,” advised Captain Perkins. “You’re real pissed off about some things that happened a long time ago. How can we obtain resolution?”

  Die!

  “Other than that. I have full authority to give you anything you want.”

  “How about moving you to Cemetery City,” suggested Camacho. “That’s where I live. It’s a good neighborhood. Babes galore. The place is hopping with ghosts. I could set you up with someone. How about Bertha Butt? She’s got sisters.”

  The Butt sisters, contemplated the voice on the wind. I’ve heard of the Butt sisters. They’re supposed to be hot!

  “No way!” exclaimed Shaky Jake, pounding on the Tombstone with his claw. “They’re my girlfriends!” “How about Janice Lee?” I suggested. “She’s real sweet, and just split up with her boyfriend.” “Mongo got dumped.” commented Pierce. “It was heartbreaking.” Mongo? asked the voice on the wind. Mongo doesn’t sound so sweet to me. What kind of name is that?

  “She is hot,” I insisted. “We only broke up because she was cheating, but we’re still friends.”

  Janice is promiscuous? I like the sound of that. What about my family?

  “You don’t think they’ll approve?” I asked, disappointed.

  No, no. Can they move too?

  “Sure, the more the merrier!” promised Captain Pierce. “We can get you all laid by next sundown. Sure, why the hell not!”

  “But first you need to sign some paperwork,” advised Mr. Depoli, opening his brief case. “Just to make things legal with the Immigration and Naturalization Service.”

  A sudden gust of wind scooped up Depoli’s legal papers and tossed them across the valley.

  “Or not,” Mr. Depoli amended, closing his brief case. “Do we at least have a verbal contractual agreement? If so, my work is done. Let’s get the hell out of here!”

  Deal! exclaimed the voice on the breeze. Dig us up, and take our remains to Cemetery City at once!

  “Not so fast,” insisted Sergeant Green, pointing his scythe at Mi
randa’s grave site. “What about the Grim Reaper? I have a bone to pick with him!”

  I haven’t seen that bendaho in years, replied the voice on the wind. He’s not my problem anymore.

  “Where is he?” pressed Sergeant Green.

  Sorry, not my year to watch him! advised the voice on the wind. Do we have a deal or not?

  “Yes!” shouted Captain Perkins. “It’s a done deal!” Perkins shook my hand, and slapped Miranda’s tombstone with a high five. “Start digging!”

  * * * * *

  As the last body was exhumed, night suddenly turned to day. Floodlights mounted on Arthropodan marine tanks and armored vehicles lit up Miranda Hill from all directions.

  “Human Pestilence Legionnaires!” shouted a spider officer on a loudspeaker. “You violate the sovereign territory of the Arthropodan Empire! You are all under arrest for trespass, spying, and curfew violations! Throw down your weapons and surrender immediately, or else!”

  “Or else what!” shouted Sergeant Green, shaking his scythe at the spiders. “Your mama!”

  Immediately a vast dust storm engulfed the spider marines. Visibility turned to zero as spider marines opened fire. The wind blew open our parachutes as we fought to attach harnesses. Grabbing body bags, and Camacho’s imprint memorial, we were lifted high into the air on the wind. High above the storm, we drifted south across the border, guided by Miranda’s spirit, and his family.

  We drifted to the landing pad at Legion Headquarters in New Gobi City, where we were met by Colonel Czerinski, accompanied by Medic Knight. Our rescue couldn’t have been written better. Czerinski viewed the ghostly negotiations via our helmet cameras. Trucks were standing by to drive us to Cemetery City, just in time for the next election. But first the Mirandas had to register as Republicans. It was the law.

  back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 15

  “Private Crisp, you used to be a salesman?” asked Colonel Czerinski.

  “Yes, sir,” I answered, standing at ease in front of the colonel’s desk. “And a good one too, before I got into this mess.”

  “I got a call about you from General Lopez,” continued Colonel Czerinski. “How would you like a nice cushy job where you can use your extensive experience in sales to benefit both yourself and the Legion? Consider it a reward for being a Hero of the Legion.”

  “Sure, I guess,” I replied, shrugging. “Do I get promoted to corporal too?”

  “After shooting Sergeant Green in the foot, I don’t think so!” advised Colonel Czerinski. “Your new assignment is General Lopez’s idea. He thinks you would make a great Legion recruiter. We want to get away from ATM recruiters because of quality control issues. ATMs have been letting fools into the Legion lately. Did I mention you’ll be getting your own office? Well, Private Crisp, how about it?”

  “Yes, sir!” I responded with enthusiasm. Finally, I get a break. “Sir, I’d love to be a Legion recruiter!”

  “Outstanding!” replied Colonel Czerinski, slapping his knee, standing up to shake my hand. “You will report immediately to Captain William Norris right here in Cemetery City. In fact, his office is next door!”

  “Sir?” I asked, alarmed. “Captain Norris is dead. I met his brain imprint out in the cemetery. His imprint has gone insane.”

  “Insanity is relative,” commented Colonel Czerinski. “Hell, look at me. There are those who think I suffer occasionally from slight mental health problems, but I’m not crazy, and I have release papers to prove it!”

  “Yes, sir, but Captain Norris is dead.”

  “Dead is becoming a relative term too,” explained Colonel Czerinski, now pacing. “Your assignment is part of a greater CIA effort to stay one step ahead of the spiders in the deployment of AI technology. You will assist in recruiting dead legionnaires back into the Legion. Don’t screw this up, or it will be your ass. General Lopez seems to have confidence in you now, but that can change. Screw up and you will be mine. Your little trip to the South Pole will look like a vacation on a tropical beach compared to your next assignment.”

  “It already looks that way.”

  “What was that?”

  “Sir, I cannot recruit imprints of the dead into the Legion,” I argued. “They’re not alive. They’re just machines. This is illegal.”

  “Don’t worry about legalities,” insisted Colonel Czerinski. “And don’t be so insensitive. We’ve set everything up for you. Congress just gave those brain imprint memorials and ghosts citizenship rights if they meet certain standards. That means the right to vote, and the right to serve in the Legion. Remember, with rights, you also assume certain responsibilities. Freedom isn’t just given to us. It has to be earned and renewed in blood. That’s the Legion’s job!”

  “You’re going to let ghosts and imprint memorials vote?” I asked incredulously. “What blood do they have? I thought only people had certain inalienable rights. It’s even in the Constitution.”

  “No,” advised Colonel Czerinski. “You’re thinking of the Declaration of Independence. Or maybe the Magna Carta. It doesn’t matter. Mr. Depoli says that the USGF Constitution is a living breathing document that protects everyone, even those who are no longer living or breathing. Our Constitution’s adaptability to change is a basic tenant and foundation to its success and the success of our great country. How do you think we lasted so long?”

  “I’ve often wondered about that,” I confessed. “Luck?”

  “Cheer up. It can’t be any worse than letting the spiders in. They’ve worked out just fine. There’s even a spider member of Congress now, and he’s Republican!”

  “What happens when we get a ghost for president?”

  “Enough! All we’re talking about now is recruiting a few dead people for some special black ops missions! This isn’t rocket science.”

  “What about dead spiders?” “Only recruit dead citizens. I thought we were clear on that already!” “But many spiders are citizens,” I insisted. “Do I recruit spider imprint memorials and ghosts?” “There aren’t any spider ghosts.” “Are you sure?” “Just do the best you can. We’ll work out the details as we go. And make sure you don’t recruit any more Democrats. If allowed, they’ll vote themselves in all sorts of double-dipping death-benefit entitlements.”

  * * * * *

  “Private Crisp, we meet again!” greeted Captain William Norris. His brain imprint memorial lay propped behind a desk setting on a swivel chair. “Janice will be glad to hear you came back. She has not been herself since you dumped her.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” I replied testily. “I’m setting Mongo up with our newest recruit from the Miranda Homestead.”

  “With a ghost?” asked Captain Norris. “A mixed marriage? That might not go over so well. Ghosts are flighty. They’re so reluctant to commit. I hope you know what you are doing, because I do not want Janice’s heart broken again.”

  “They say opposites attract. It might work.”

  “I don’t have time for such trifles,” advised Captain Norris. “We have quotas to meet. And your appearance is deplorable. Recruiting is all about first impressions. You need to shape up or ship out!”

  I pressed Captain Norris’s deactivation button and stuffed him in a locker. I was not taking orders from a machine, no matter what Czerinski said. Sergeant Green burst in.

  “Where’s Captain Norris?”

  “I stuffed him in a locker.”

  “Good man!” exclaimed Sergeant Green. “That fool almost got me killed several times when he was alive. I’ll be damned if I’ll let him get me killed, now that he’s dead!”

  “What do we do now?” I asked. “Are they serious about recruiting brain imprints and ghosts?”

  “Ghosts might be a problem,” explained Sergeant Green. “But it should be easy to recruit ex-legionnaires. They miss the life they used to lead. Just go out and bond with them. Listen to how is was ‘back in the day.’ Find out how Miranda and Mongo are
doing? Agent Culp thinks Miranda could be our next secret weapon. Miranda could be bigger than nukes and Star Wars!”

  * * * * *

  I visited Raul Miranda and Janice ‘Mongo’ Lee. Their graves were now side by side. Flowers and green grass graced the happy site. I pressed Janice’s activation button.

  “Hello, Donald darling,” Janice said with a giggle. “I am so glad you are over your immature jealousy, and have accepted me and Raul. You need to move on.”

  “I moved on a long time ago,” I snapped. “I am here to see Miranda. Put him on the line.” “Your tone does not sound like you have moved on.” “I want to talk to Miranda!” “Don’t make a scene, Donald. It’s over between us.” “Okay, I can accept that. Can I talk to Miranda now?” “It does not work that way,” explained Janice. “Raul is a ghost. He comes and goes with the wind.” “I have Legion enlistment, citizenship, and voter registration paperwork for Miranda to sign. When do you expect him back? Can I leave the papers with you so Miranda can review them at his leisure?”

  “I doubt Raul will join your Foreign Legion. He is too busy keeping me happy. Did you know we are thinking of doing a video of our lovemaking?”

  “That’s more info than I need. Listen, this is more important than you two going into the porno business. Captain Norris thinks Miranda can be our next secret weapon against the spiders. This is a matter of national security.”

  “I am positive,” insisted Janice, “that you are wasting your time. Keeping me happy is a full-time job. Raul is very considerate of my feelings and needs, unlike some people I know! That is why you don’t measure up, compared to Raul.”