America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 4: Demilitarized Zone Page 14

  “I’ll send my head of Military Intelligence to handle it,” promised the spider commander. “Consider it done.”

  “You will get off your poopchute and handle the details personally!” ordered the governor. “There will be no more delegating your responsibilities. Colonel Czerinski is out there stirring up trouble. I want you out there keeping an eye on Czerinski. Kill him if you can, but don’t make it look like we did it.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the spider commander. “You are right. I need to settle accounts with Czerinski.”

  “Have you been supplying the insurgents with weapons?” asked the governor.

  “Yes, sir,” answered the spider commander. “But only a limited amount. I have promised them more.”

  “Good,” said the governor. “I agree. Increase their supply. Give them whatever they want or need. We need our own organized militia to harass the human pestilence. Let the insurgents kill Czerinski.”

  “Is that wise?” asked the spider commander. “It is difficult to control civilian militia once they get full of themselves. There are some here who want full independence.”

  “They will stay in line if they know what is good for them!” said the governor. “Just be firm. Take a shuttle immediately to Yellow Brick or Redrock and make it happen!”

  * * * * *

  Two militia freedom fighters stood motionless in the shade of a boulder overlooking New Gobi. They resembled nomadic Bedouin from Old Earth, wearing flowing robes and headgear. The sage-colored cloth protected them from the sun and made them invisible under air surveillance. They watched an Arthropodan shuttle taxi down an airport runway, climb, then veer violently to the right, increasing altitude.

  The freedom fighters fired a SAM at the shuttle. The missile went straight, then turned sharply when the shuttle veered to the right. On impact, the explosion took off a wing, maiming the shuttle. The craft spiraled to the ground. Emergency ejection pods saved several passengers and crew, and their parachutes drifted slowly back toward New Gobi. One of the passengers, the Supreme Commander for New Gobi, swore death to the human pestilence and to Czerinski and his Legion.

  * * * * *

  I arrived in Yellow Brick with a convoy of flatbed trucks carrying twenty of the Legion’s newest battle tanks. The convoy also escorted fuel trucks to keep the fuel-thirsty monsters moving. I could not help but notice hundreds of new geodesic domes lining Main Street into town, and thousands of new spider colonists. Captain Lopez met me at Legion Headquarters for a briefing.

  “I thought the spiders were driven out,” I said. “But it looks like they are everywhere!”

  “Their marine task force was wiped out by the militia,” replied Captain Lopez. “But as you can see, we seem to have an immigration problem. What took you so long to get here?”

  “The road still has landmines. We could only go as fast as the engineers’ mine sweeper.”

  “Generalissimo Ross says we have one more day before he kicks us out,” sneered Captain Lopez. “I think the militia is going to do something stupid.”

  “That’s why I brought the tanks. We are not leaving. What is Ross upset about?”

  “I asked Ross to return the SAMs,” said Captain Lopez. “He refuses.”

  “You gave Ross SAMs? Are you insane?”

  “I’ll admit it was not my best move. But what’s done is done.”

  “I want to talk to Ross. Maybe we can work out an understanding.”

  “That’s not likely,” said Captain Lopez. “Ross left town as soon as you arrived. There is something I didn’t tell you. Ross was wearing your gold-plated sunglasses and your pistol.”

  “That little shit is responsible for the grenade in my desk? I still have problems sitting down from shrapnel in my ass!”

  “Ross has grown up a bit,” commented Captain Lopez. “He has become a very capable leader.”

  “Kill Ross at the first opportunity,” I ordered. “Make it look like the spiders did it.”

  * * * * *

  John Hume Ross led a militia squad up from the tunnels into the fenced Legion compound. Fuel trucks were lined up neatly, row after row. The freedom fighters placed explosive charges on each fuel truck, then retreated back into the tunnels.

  At midnight the explosions turned the night sky into day. The entire town wakened and gathered to watch the fire. It was almost like a Fourth of July picnic. The crowd ‘ooed’ and ‘ahhed’ with each new explosion. Food venders sold hotdogs and popcorn. Spider and human kids raced about the adults, playing tag and war.

  The next morning I called General Kalipetsis about getting fuel replacement. My new battle tanks were worthless without fuel. General Kalipetsis ordered the Legion to leave Yellow Brick. He explained that the specter of the Legion fighting a human insurgency was not worth it. The bad press would affect upcoming elections and inflame other planetary problem areas. He specifically told me not to nuke anything this time.

  After the Legion pulled out, a token presence would be maintained at Legion Headquarters. The United States Galactic Federation would try to retain sovereignty over Yellow Brick through negotiations, but joint jurisdiction with the spiders would be acceptable.

  * * * * *

  After the Legion left Yellow Brick, the militia triumphantly entered town. They were dismayed at the thousands of new spider colonists, but tried to put a good face on their parade. Victorious, most militia members shed their uniforms and weapons and returned to their ranches, farms, and businesses.

  However, Ross and his cohorts were determined to maintain a strong and visible militia presence, so they kept wearing their uniforms and carrying weapons. They reasoned that something needed to be done about this latest invasion of spider colonists. Ross parked his jeep in front of City Hall. Across the street was a brand new building. It sported Arthropodan signs on its façade, announcing the grand opening of a new grocery store. Milk and goo pudding were selling at half price.

  Ross crossed the street and entered the grocery. Its air-conditioning was refreshing. The spider owner cheerfully greeted Ross. Ross ignored pleasantries and continued prowling about the store. Ross popped the top on a beer and chugged it down, tossing the can in an aisle. After relieving his thirst, Ross grabbed a six-pack and walked out.

  “Hey, asshole!” yelled the store owner, following Ross outside. “You owe me ten credits!”

  “Sorry,” said Ross. “I only have dollars on me.”

  “I am calling the police on you!” threatened the store owner, shaking his claw.

  Ross ignored the store owner as he approached his jeep. Ross grabbed an assault rifle and sprayed the new plate glass windows of the grocery with bullets, barely missing the store owner and several pedestrians. Then he drove off, his militia buddies cheering. A few blocks away, a Sheriff’s Office patrol car stopped Ross with blue lights and siren.

  “It’s Barney Fife,” commented one of the militia lieutenants. “You’re in big trouble now.”

  “Who is Barney Fife?” asked Ross.

  “You know, from TV,” replied the lieutenant. “Andy of Mayberry? Don’t you watch TV? It’s been in syndication for centuries.”

  “No,” answered Ross. “TV brainwashes the mind. No spider cop is going to arrest me for anything. We will kill him first. Be ready.”

  Two spider officers approached the jeep. A deputy hung back by the tailgate while the sheriff talked to Ross. “Do you know why I stopped you?” asked the sheriff.

  “Gee, Mr. Fife,” said Ross. “For disturbing the peace? Or maybe littering?” Ross crushed a beer can and dropped it into the street.

  “With utter disregard for life, you fired an assault rifle into a grocery store on Main Street,” accused the sheriff. “That amounts to a lot more than just disturbing the peace. Do you care to explain yourself?”

  “Exercise your right to remain silent,” advised one of the lieutenants, laughing.

  “Do you know who I am?” asked Ross. “I just defeated an entire marine task force of you
spiders. I just forced your protectors in the Legion to leave town. Do you think I am afraid of the town’s spider clown?”

  “Think, Mr. Ross,” said the sheriff. “Why did you fight the task force marines and tell the Legion to leave?”

  “To fight oppression and to make Yellow Brick safe for humanity,” replied Ross, proudly.

  “Look around you,” ordered the sheriff. “What do you see?”

  Ross looked about. He could not believe he was having this conversation. In a minute Ross planned to just kill this uppity spider. He saw school kids, spiders and humans, carrying their books to school. He saw two boys passing a football back and forth across the street. One was a spider, and one was a human.

  “I see it’s a school day,” replied Ross. “What’s your point?”

  “My point is that Yellow Brick is already peaceful and safe,” said the sheriff. “You are the only menace in town.”

  “You are a menace to society,” joked one of Ross’s lieutenants.

  “This invasion of illegal spider immigrants doesn’t make Yellow Brick better or safer,” argued Ross. “It is an abomination for you spiders to come in here and build on top of what we started. This is not a change I will tolerate.”

  “Immigrants are pouring in from both north and south,” explained the sheriff. “Permanent change is already here. This change is bigger than the Arthropodan marines, the Legion, or you and me. These farmers and merchants are the future.”

  “Not if they’re spiders,” said Ross. “They are not my future as long as I’m running things.”

  “I tried, but you just do not get it,” said the sheriff. “You are under arrest for attempted murder. Everyone put your hands high into the air! Do it now!”

  Ross smirked. He glanced about as he reached for his pistol, only just now thinking about the other officer. He was startled by the distinct sound of shotgun slides racking. Twenty deputies, some spider and some human, had surrounded his jeep. Ross was taken into custody without incident. His lieutenants were told to get out of town before sundown.

  Ross only stayed inside the city jail a short time. The sheriff cemented a large post into the street by the damaged grocery store. Ross was chained to the post, with about ten feet of walk-around space. The sheriff handed Ross a white sheet for shade, a wool blanket for the cold nights, a couple jugs of water, and a plastic honey bucket.

  “What is this?” asked Ross.

  “Your new home,” replied the sheriff.

  “This is inhumane,” protested Ross. “You have no right to do this to me. When is my trial? I have constitutional rights!”

  “You will stay chained to this pole in full view of the grocery you attacked,” said the sheriff. “You will contemplate your evil deed.”

  “The only thing I will contemplate is how many pieces of crab meat I will slice you into,” said Ross. “The militia will not tolerate this injustice. They will break me out.”

  “No one will help you,” said the sheriff. “Get used to it.”

  Ross cursed and threatened the sheriff as the spider walked away. From time to time, a deputy brought water or a new honey bucket. The only food available was brought by a few still friendly militia members. Ross begged for food from passing school kids. Some shared food from their packed lunches, mostly vegetables and other yuk stuff. After about a month, Ross started to break. His skin burned and his lips cracked. Ross pleaded to talk to the sheriff again. Several days later, the sheriff came by, chewing on a straw.

  “What?” asked the sheriff, irritated. “I am busy. This had better be important!”

  “Please!” begged Ross. “I can’t take this much longer. How long do I have to be chained here?”

  “Several years,” replied the sheriff. “Attempted murder is a serious felony.”

  “No!” cried Ross, losing it. “I can’t live like this! I will die! Surely you can do something.”

  “The matter is out of my control,” said the sheriff. “Perhaps if you were more repentant and apologized to the merchant you terrorized, it would help. I do not know. The city council might commute your sentence.”

  “City council?” asked Ross.

  “Civilization has come to Yellow Brick,” said the sheriff. “We have a city council now. I told you progress was bigger than both of us.”

  “Please ask the city council to let me go,” replied Ross. “And tell the store owner I am truly sorry. I will pay for the damage I caused, and for the beer I stole.”

  The next day the store owner came out to talk to Ross. “Why should you ever be trusted or released?” asked the store owner. “You are a rabid dog that should be shot. Let the dust storms tear your skin from your bones.”

  “I am not a rabid dog,” insisted Ross. “I have learned an important lesson.”

  “And what lesson is that?” asked the store owner. “To not get caught?”

  “I learned that absolute power corrupts the soul absolutely,” said Ross. “My soul is no longer putrid. I apologize to you and to your family.”

  “You threaten my family?” asked the store owner. “I will beat you to death myself here and now!”

  “No!” said Ross. “The children talk to me on their way to school. I’ve got to know them quite well. Some even bring me candy. I would never harm or threaten a child. I am truly sorry for my actions and my behavior.”

  “We will see,” said the store owner, tromping off. “We will see! Dog! You are a bad seed!”

  Two days later, John Hume Ross was released. He paid the store owner for the damages and his trouble. Ross swore vengeance on everyone who had ever slighted or harmed him. The list was long. However, Ross never returned to Yellow Brick.

  Back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 17

  The spider Supreme Commander of New Gobi deployed an additional division to the central desert. As ordered, he personally led a brigade to Yellow Brick and other towns on a fact-finding mission, and to escort colonists to their new homesteads. He was met at the Yellow Brick Bridge by a contingent of militia. This time the militia boasted both human and spider members, but appeared just as determined to block entry into Yellow Brick.

  “Local agreements negotiated long ago bar occupation of Yellow Brick by large military units,” advised the sheriff. “You may not enter.”

  “I am not here to occupy Yellow Brick,” replied the spider commander. “We are merely passing through on a visit to the entire New Gobi Desert. I will be addressing your mayor and council and paying a courtesy visit to the liaison officer at Legion Headquarters.”

  “Still, large military units must bypass the town,” advised the sheriff. “Only small units my enter Yellow Brick.”

  “There is no detour route available,” replied the spider commander, now annoyed. “Besides, it has been a long journey. My commandos require resupply. They need to shop in your stores for food and beverages. My vehicles need fuel and minor maintenance.”

  Militia officers conferred with the sheriff. A spider militia lieutenant stepped forward. “Sir! I own Yellow Brick Mercantile. I would be honored to do business with your brave soldiers. As many troops as you wish may shop in our establishments on Main Street.”

  The spider commander turned to his military intelligence officer. “You were right. Wave money at the locals, and they will fall all over themselves to please.”

  The brigade dispersed into the business district. Beer sales soared. As the spider commander approached the steps to City Hall, he noticed an American Galactic Federation flag flying overhead.

  “Tear that down!” ordered the spider commander.

  “Yellow Brick is jointly administrated,” cautioned the military intelligence officer. “The governor and politicians will decide such issues.”

  “Fine!” groused the spider commander. “Have our engineers build a taller flagpole and fly our flag atop it! Make sure it is sturdy. I do not want our flag blown over by the first dust storm that comes along.”

  “Yes, sir,” s
aid the military intelligence officer. “We will part now. I leave you to deal with the mayor and council. I am going over to Legion Headquarters. Just remember, when they ask for anything that costs money, say you are concerned and will pass the matter on to the governor.”

  “You would abandon me during my moment of need?” asked the spider commander. “Be sure not to launch too many plots with your spy buddies over at Legion Headquarters.”

  * * * * *

  Captain Lopez greeted the military intelligence officer at the front door to Legion Headquarters. He had been expecting the visit. They sat down for coffee to discuss mutual interests.

  “I heard your Supreme Commander was shot down by a SAM,” commented Captain Lopez. “I may know something about that.”

  “Since it was one of your SAMs, I suspect you do know something about it,” said the military intelligence officer. “At least that is how my commander feels. He is not too happy about the matter.”

  “The Legion was not involved,” replied Captain Lopez. “A human terrorist named John Hume Ross is responsible. He also led the local militia against your marine task force.”

  “If you know all this, why is Ross not in custody?” asked the military intelligence officer.

  “Ross is very elusive,” explained Captain Lopez. “We suspect he is hiding near the border, sheltered by separatist sympathizers.”

  “How did Ross acquire Legion SAMs?” asked the military intelligence officer. “I hold you responsible for that.”

  “Theft or bribery from an armory,” explained Captain Lopez. “The matter is being investigated. The important thing is, that it is in both our best interests to work together to eradicate Ross and his ilk. They threaten the peace and security of the New Gobi and the DMZ.”