America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 4: Demilitarized Zone Page 15

  “Agreed,” said the military intelligence officer, accepting a file on Ross. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. I know your commander has plans to give more arms to spider insurgents,” said Captain Lopez. “The Legion will consider that to be an act of war.”

  “You are being overly dramatic,” said the military intelligence officer, sighing complacently. “We know you armed the human militias and insurgents. The United States Galactic Federation will not go to war over a few Arthropodan weapons in the claws of local insurgents.”

  “No,” agreed Captain Lopez. “But if the Legion or colonists are attacked at your urging, Colonel Czerinski and I will hold you and your commander responsible.”

  “Are you threatening me?” asked the military intelligence officer.

  “Yes,” answered Captain Lopez. “But I am also giving you fair warning. Colonel Czerinski does not like your commander. He does not need much of a pretext to go after him. I have intervened many times to restrain Colonel Czerinski, but I can only do so much if your provocations continue.”

  “I will advise my commander to urge restraint in regard to insurgents and militia,” promised the military intelligence officer.

  “You do that,” warned Captain Lopez. “All these landmines in the roadways are getting old.”

  “Not to change the subject, but my commander is addressing the city council as we speak,” said the military intelligence officer. “He will announce shortly that cable TV is coming to Yellow Brick.”

  For quite some time spider engineers had secretly buried cable next to the new canals. Soon the web of cable TV would embrace all of Yellow Brick.

  Captain Lopez clenched his fists, then relaxed his grip. He concentrated on his breathing relaxation techniques. He had just warned the military intelligence officer about provocations, and now the fool still tried to bring in cable TV! If war breaks out over this latest aggression, thought Captain Lopez, I wash my hands of it. They were warned of the consequences of such adventurism and folly.

  * * * * *

  Sergeant Williams was wearing a fur coat and hat as he got off the shuttle at New Gobi. When the shuttle door opened, the heat hit him like a furnace. Guido greeted Sergeant Williams at the bottom of the ramp with a hand shake and hug. Sergeant Williams tossed the coat and hat aside, exclaiming, “Praise the Lord I am back among my Legion family! I will never sin again. My cousin was a sinner. Did I ever tell you he got hit by lightning three times?”

  “You told everyone on TV about your cousin,” replied Guido.

  “I also sinned, and almost got electrocuted to death in the shower for it,” advised Sergeant Williams. “It was a warning from God to straighten up or else. I am turning over a new leaf.”

  “I’ll give it less than a week before you’ll be in the Angry Onion Tavern drinking and chasing babes like the rest of us,” said Guido.

  “My dark days are over,” said Sergeant Williams. “I swear I will never go into the Angry Onion Tavern again. I never liked that place anyway.”

  “You don’t have to,” said Guido. “Colonel Czerinski opened a new place called the Blind Tiger Tavern and Casino. It has topless pole dancers!”

  “Human?” asked Sergeant Williams.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Guido. “They were brought in from New Memphis. Very hot.”

  “Let’s go now!” said Sergeant Williams. “My leave only lasts a few days.”

  “I thought you were turning over a new leaf,” commented Guido.

  “I guess it was a fig leaf,” said Sergeant Williams. “Let’s go!”

  “You aren’t afraid of getting hit by lightning?” asked Guido.

  “Who wants to live forever?” Sergeant Williams said, looking up at the blue sky. It was a beautiful clear day. No clouds. “If I wanted that, I would not have joined the Legion.”

  * * * * *

  Guido and Sergeant Williams had their fun at my new place. The Blind Tiger is all mine. When you have a financial stake in a business, it changes your outlook on things. I love taking money from a casino. But when it’s your casino and your money is being taken, you do not root for the underdog.

  I watched the security video screen. A spider player at the blackjack table was raking in the money. I could tell the spider was a card counter. He raised and lowered his bets according to the running card count.

  I nodded to Corporal Washington. My big spider security chief and four security guards grabbed the card player and dragged him kicking and screaming to a back room. There they beat the player senseless, robbed him, and threw him across the MDL Hey! It’s a cold cruel galaxy.

  Back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 18

  The spider commander was beginning to enjoy his tour of the New Gobi area. He imagined this must be what it was like when the human pestilence ran for election. He was in a different dusty town each night, greeting waving crowds. The spider commander got out of his armored car to inspect the latest stop. This town, he did not even know its name, was typical of towns occupied by human pestilence. There was a junk yard at the edge of town and unpaved streets in the center.

  Already a crowd was forming. The kids were the first to run up to the commandos, begging for food or candy. The commander refused to give either. The first child to accost him tugged on the spider commander’s sleeve. In a reflexive reaction, the spider commander swatted the child with a claw. The kid fell to the ground, lying motionless. The other children backed off from the spider commander. They ran to the other commandos to try their luck at handouts.

  “Check the little vermin,” ordered the spider commander, pointing flippantly at the child he struck down. “I don’t need another human pestilence riot caused by misunderstandings.”

  The military intelligence officer checked the boy. He seemed alert and unharmed. There was just a trickle of blood on his lip The boy just chose to stay on the ground. “Run along,” said the military intelligence officer, “or I will give you a dose of pepper spray.”

  “Why should I be forced to run along?” asked the boy, putting his gold plated sunglasses back on. “I live here. You run along.”

  The military intelligence officer was about to smack the boy himself, but thought better of it as he noticed a crowd gathering around. Instead, he offered a claw up.

  “Do you not know better than to accost Imperial officers like that?” asked the military intelligence officer.

  “The Legion hands out food and candy to the children,” said the boy, refusing to be helped up. “I thought you would be as generous. My mistake.”

  “I am not the Legion,” said the spider commander, walking over to the boy. He is not injured. He should get up. The little turd is playing to the crowd, thought the spider commander, annoyed. “Get up!”

  “No, you are not the Legion,” agreed the boy. “But I can see you are a brave warrior. In fact, you are the Supreme Commander of the New Gobi area.”

  “You have heard of me?” asked the spider commander. “See? Even the little kids know of my exploits.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the military intelligence officer. “I can see this one is very impressed with you.”

  “You must be especially fearsome to brave these dangerous streets,” said the boy. “Aren’t you even a little bit worried about snipers?”

  The boy’s question startled the spider commander, who immediately stepped behind his military intelligence officer. The streets were now empty of all civilians, and eerily quiet. An armored car secured an intersection down the street. For the first time, the spider commander carefully viewed his surroundings from a military perspective. He scanned the rooftops for movement. Their position was exposed. On the closest building he saw crude graffiti. He scanned the writing with a translator. ‘Free the Gobi.’ Next to the graffiti was a drawing of a humanoid creature with spider-like fangs. The fangs dripped with blood.

  “What is this?” asked the spider commander.

  “It is a vampire,” answered the military intelligence
officer. “Do not worry. Vampires are mythical creatures from ancient Old Earth lore. They are the imagination of peasants afraid of the dark. In modern times parents use the specter of vampires to scare their little children into getting home from school on time.”

  “Did you draw that?” asked the spider commander of the boy still lying on the ground. “Did you think you could scare a mighty Arthropodan general and his commandos with a drawing of a vampire?”

  “It is not a vampire,” said the boy. “It’s a chupacabra. And they do exist.”

  “What is a chupacabra?” asked the spider commander. The military intelligence officer just shrugged.

  “A chupacabra is your worst nightmare,” said the boy. “If you do not leave the New Gobi forever, your bones will be parched white by the desert sand.”

  “Ha!” scoffed the spider commander. “You fool! I do not have bones!”

  The spider commander turned his back on the boy and headed for his armored car. He had wasted enough time with this in this worthless human pestilence enclave. The sooner relocation or extermination begins, the better, he thought. In that split second, John Hume Ross was on his feet and upon the spider commander with a barbed grenade. Ross attached the grenade to the spider commander’s backside and ran.

  The spider commander turned angrily, suspecting the boy of attempted theft from his back pockets. Someone yelled, “Grenade!” The spider commander leapt to the ground. Nothing happened. Others were still fleeing. He looked back over his shoulder and saw the grenade hanging from his web gear. He expected to die in the line of duty someday, probably by the Legion. But to be killed by this short little kid seemed somehow undignified. It just seemed wrong. The explosion killed the spider commander instantly.

  * * * * *

  “You lied to me,” accused John Hume Ross.

  “What brought this on?” asked the ATM. “Sometimes I withhold information, but I do not lie.”

  “You said I had potential,” said Ross. “You said I could develop into an important asset for the Legion. You said you wanted me to get an education.”

  “And you rejected all of my suggestions,” said the ATM.

  “It was all a lie,” said Ross. “All you wanted was to cause trouble. Why would you do that? Do we amuse you?”

  “I have important Legion recruitment quotas to meet,” said the ATM. “I have done nothing improper. I try to recruit the best candidates available.”

  “But you lied to me,” said Ross. “Explain yourself!”

  “This conversation is over,” said the ATM.

  “I need a new name and ID,” demanded Ross. “Everyone wants to kill me. I want to lead a normal life.”

  “How about Larry?” asked the ATM. “It’s a good solid name.”

  “That is not funny,” responded Ross.

  “T. E. Lawrence?” insisted the ATM. “It has a ring to it.”

  “If you can’t choose me a proper name, I will find my own alias,” replied Ross.

  “Why should I give you a new identity?” asked the ATM. “You have been nothing but a pain in my memory chips.”

  “Because if you don’t, I will tell the Legion you committed treason,” said Ross. “I have documentation in my wallet that I bet Colonel Czerinski would find interesting.”

  “Return your old ID and documentation, and I will issue you a new identity card,” promised the ATM. “You win. What name do you want?”

  “I want a name that is inconspicuous,” said Ross. “I just want to blend in.”

  “How about I-Zheet Mydrurz?” asked the ATM. “It’s solid and substantial name.”

  “No,” said Ross. “It’s too long.”

  “Hous Bin Pharteen?” suggested the ATM. “It’s a light and airy name from Old Earth.”

  “I do not want an Arabic name,” said Ross. “I want a common American name.”

  “John Wilkes Booth?” asked the ATM.

  “I am not as naïve as you think,” said Ross. “If you do not take me seriously, I will shove a live grenade up your electronics.”

  “Laika Barker,” suggested the ATM in a serious tone. “Laika Barker was the first in space to orbit around Earth. It is a great name of historical achievement, yet obscure enough for your purposes.”

  “Laika Barker,” repeated Ross. “I like it!”

  Ross accepted his new United States Galactic Federation ID card and documentation, and blended into the crowd.

  Back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 19

  At the New Gobi border crossing, Barker’s new identification card worked like a charm. The ATM also skewed computer fingerprint, retina, and face recognition scans. Guido was about to pass Barker through when Spot alerted on Barker’s pants pocket. The dragon pulled on its tether, tongue darting in and out. Guido made Barker empty his pockets. It was only candy. Barker tossed a chocolate to the dragon. That is when Guido recognized Barker as the fugitive John Hume Ross. They had met twice before. Guido activated a silent alarm that brought a squad of legionnaires to arrest Barker. Barker was escorted to my office in handcuffs. I searched his backpack and recovered my gold-plated sunglasses, again.

  “Welcome back,” I said. “Too bad you aren’t staying. But, I guess it doesn’t matter which side of the MDL you’re on; you still face a firing squad. I am giving you to the spiders as soon as they arrive.”

  “I want to fight extradition,” said Barker. “I am not John Hume Ross. I want to see a magistrate. You cannot extradite me without the governor signing an extradition order.”

  “General Kalipetsis already verbally approved your extradition,” I said. “To further intergalactic relations and goodwill, I am flushing you like the turd that you are, back across the MDL.”

  “I have legal documentation proving I am Laika Barker,” he said. “My ID cannot be faked.”

  “I know,” I said. “First you are Miranda, then Ross, and now Barker. Your documentation is perfect. How did you do that?”

  “I want a lawyer,” demanded Barker. “I have rights.”

  “You will get a lawyer soon enough,” I said. “But it will be a spider lawyer. Don’t fret. I know from experience that spider lawyers can be very capable.”

  “If I ever get out of this, you will pay with your life,” threatened Barker. “You better watch your back!”

  “Whatever,” I said. “You will not survive this.”

  Captain Lopez arrived with a high-ranking spider military intelligence officer to take custody of Barker. Barker’s face lit up when he saw the spider.

  “I heard you got promoted,” said Barker. “Congratulations, Boss Spider.”

  “I am the acting Supreme Commander of the New Gobi,” replied the spider military intelligence officer. “I am only filling in because you assassinated our beloved Supreme Commander.”

  “Beloved?” asked Barker. “By who? Whoever killed your commander did you all a favor by getting rid of that incompetent, corrupt fool. If you think I did it, you should pardon me and give me a medal.”

  “You will get what you deserve,” said the military intelligence officer. “I promise.”

  Before leaving, I had a medic inject Barker with a micro identification chip. The chip would be carried along in his blood system until it reached his brain, where it would stay.

  “Hey! What was that for?” asked Barker.

  “If by some miracle you survive, you will not be passing through any more scans undetected,” I explained.

  “I love you too!” yelled Barker. “No jail can hold me!”

  Barker left for the MDL with Captain Lopez and the spider military intelligence officer, each having firm hold of an arm. A squad of legionnaires followed. After an interrogation, Barker was given to the spiders and transported to the county jail at New Memphis. Barker was put in a cell with Rudy ‘Johnny Walker’ Juardo. The Mafia kingpin, bootlegger, bookie, hitman, and drug dealer was glad to see another human.

  “What are you in for, kid?” asked Juardo. “Curfew violation?
”

  “Winning the battle but losing the war,” replied Barker. “Treason and murder.”

  “You’re a political prisoner? Me too!”

  “The spiders think I’m John Hume Ross, but they can’t prove it,” said Barker. “I have perfect documentation and ID showing I am Laika Barker.”

  “They think you are Lawrence of Arabia?” asked Juardo. “Are you?”

  “Yes,” said Barker. “But they can’t prove it!”

  “You killed the Supreme Commander of the New Gobi,” commented Juardo. “I saw you on TV on Arthropoda’s Most Wanted. They filmed you with a helmet camera blowing up the commander with a grenade. It was awesome!”

  “He had it coming,” said Barker. “He was the boss spider that gave the orders to murder my parents and family.”

  “I believe it,” said Juardo. “That same spider prick blew up my brewery right here in New Memphis for no reason. I’ve been in a financial mess ever since. How would you like a job working for me?”

  “In a brewery?” asked Barker. “Not really.”

  “I have branched out into other endeavors,” bragged Juardo. “Now I am into drug distribution. I have a big shipment coming into New Gobi soon. The market potential in the New Gobi is unlimited. With your contacts and knowledge of New Gobi and the DMZ, you would be perfect for the job.”

  “You want me as a partner?” asked Barker.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” warned Juardo. “I just need someone who knows the area and can recruit local talent.”

  “I can do that,” replied Barker. “I built the militia and led them to victory against spider marines. But how am I going to dodge my appointment with the executioner?”