America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 4: Demilitarized Zone Read online

  “You should have not lied about what you were doing under that tent,” I said. “I don’t care if you make whiskey or white lightning. You can make as much as you want. Just tell me about it first, so I don’t think you are up to something else. I thought you were digging up fossils.”

  “What is wrong with digging up fossils?” asked the spider commander. “We will do as we please on our side of the DMZ. You are the most anal human pestilence I have ever met.”

  “You captured a helicopter crew,” I said, changing the subject. “I want them repatriated immediately.”

  “Not until you sign a written statement admitting you ordered your legionnaires to trespass on sovereign Arthropodan territory.” The spider commander slid the prepared statement halfway across the table.

  As I picked up the document, my pen slipped from my hand. It rolled across the table, passing the MDL. As I reached for the pen, everyone reached for their weapons. I hesitated, letting the pen continue to roll. The spider commander picked the pen up and politely handed it back to me.

  “I am signing under protest,” I commented, scribbling my signature and sliding the papers back across the MDL. “If the helicopter crew has been abused, I will hold you personally responsible.”

  “The Empire does not mistreat defenseless prisoners,’ stated the spider commander. “This is unlike what you human pestilence have done countless times. Your atrocities are well documented.”

  “Anything else?” I asked. “I assume truck traffic and commerce can resume in a week or so after the rubble has been cleared from the streets? Oil and raw materials can come through?”

  “I want that fruit tree replaced,” demanded the spider commander. “And I want a guarantee that any future tree at the border crossing will not be molested.”

  “I want my swimming pool fixed,” I demanded, too.

  “Where did you get the water to fill a swimming pool?” asked the spider commander. “We have been drilling for months, and have found nothing but dust.”

  “Did you use a water witcher?” I asked. “It is money well spent to have a dowser witch for water before drilling.”

  “I have heard you human pestilence use dowsing sticks or rods to locate water, but it is not based on any scientific empirical laws or forces of nature,” argued the spider commander. “The movement of the stick is just ideomotor action.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “We found water, and you didn’t.”

  “Where can I find a water witcher?” asked the spider commander.

  “Look in the Yellow Pages for all I care,” I said, ending the meeting. “And the wire fence inside Walmart stays up!”

  * * * * *

  After the meeting, Captain Lopez and I took a walk to inspect the damage. “That spider commander really pisses me off,” I commented. “I almost got killed when he blasted my office.”

  “Do you want to know what really upsets me?” asked Captain Lopez. “It came to me when we were digging you out of the rubble.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. “What upsets you? That I’m a tough nut to kill?”

  “Close,” said Captain Lopez. “You rose out of that rubble like a phoenix. We have been through a lot together. We have been shot, cut, burned, crushed, and captured. Age is beginning to catch up with me. But you? You are not aging. I dismissed the rumors at first. But it is true. You are not aging. How is that so? Share your secret with me, por favor.”

  “That’s nonsense,” I lied. “I’ve heard the rumors, too. Just drop it.”

  “I will not drop it,” insisted Captain Lopez. “Although some people don’t think so, I know you can be killed. How about I put that to the test?”

  “Are you threatening me?” I asked. “If so, it will be your last threat.”

  “Is it so wrong to seek the Fountain of Youth?” asked Captain Lopez. “I am a conquistador. I will always seek the Fountain of Youth.”

  “Whatever.”

  “How many times have I saved your life?” asked Captain Lopez. “Who more than me deserves to know your secret?”

  “The technology has either been hidden or lost,” I confessed. “It might be held in a vault on Old Earth. Maybe someday, if you are promoted to general or elected President, they will share it with you.”

  “That is not likely,” said Captain Lopez. “How about I just seize the technology?”

  “You and whose army?”

  “Life is short. The best part of life is even shorter. We will talk about this later. Mark my words. I will find and seize this technology.”

  Back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 6

  Pastor Jim’s Church of Scientology was built on a hill overlooking New Gobi. As ordered, I sat in the first pew. I made sure other legionnaires shared my plight. I ordered Captain Lopez to be present. His capacity as a city administrator and leading citizen of New Gobi City required his presence. Pastor Jim confidently addressed his new flock. “Welcome. I am glad to see so many young faces here today. I am proud to be among the first wave of galactic pioneers to settle New Colorado. There are no limits to what we will achieve. There is no holding us back. We pioneers realize we must live life to know life.

  “Also, I am honored to see so many members of the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion in attendance. In the first pew I see Major Czerinski and Captain Lopez, both highly decorated heroes of the Legion. Their exploits are known to all across the galaxy. I also see Corporal Tonelli, who just got out of the hospital. I am glad you are recovering nicely, Corporal. Guido Tonelli, also a highly decorated war hero, once captured two dozen insurgents single-handed during the Battle of New Disneyland. I see the courageous Corporal George Rambo Washington, the first spider to join the Foreign Legion. I am glad your two lovely wives, Pam and Bam, could attend services, too. Welcome all!

  “You might have noticed a self-propelled howitzer and various missiles and launchers located next to our church. Do not be alarmed. This being a strategic hill overlooking New Gobi, I have consented to the placement of artillery on God’s hill to assist the Legion in defending our community. Major Czerinski has assured me that soon engineers will dig tunnels and emplacements to make the artillery and missiles less conspicuous.

  “Some may think that consenting to have my church exist side by side with such destructive weapons is inconsistent with our message of peace and brotherhood. Some may think that Major Czerinski would not have taken no for an answer when he requested I share my hill.” Uneasy laughter filtered from the audience. “However, I am proud to do my part to make New Gobi safe, and to deter attack from across the border. This should come as no surprise. The founder of the Church of Scientology, L. Ron Hubbard, was himself a decorated United States naval officer wounded in combat during World War II. So, certainly I am not above doing my part to help. And if my church is destroyed in the next war, the Legion and I will merely rebuild. But, not before coming down from my hill like Moses and kicking that Arthropodan commander’s ass!” Wild applause followed.

  “This month we have seen great strides take place in New Gobi, and I expect to participate in more. In addition to this fine church, we have seen the construction of our first grocery store, tavern, portable nuclear power stations, a public school, bank, ATM, and traffic light. Soon we will even have our own zip code. Together, united in the technology of the mind, we will build a great community for our families here in New Gobi.

  “I will cut short my sermon because I do not want to scare new members off with my usual fire and brimstone. We have organized a potluck, and there is a lot of good eating ahead of us. I am told that Pam and Bam’s pudding goo is especially tasty. I’ll try anything once. I expect to see all of you here next week. But before we join the potluck, let us bow our heads in a moment of respectful silence and prayer for those legionnaires who gave their lives this week in defense of our country so that we may remain free. May their spirits live on.”

  * * * * *

  The spider commander had a new fruit tree pl
anted at the border crossing. The fruit tree was an old Arthropodan symbol representing the Empire’s steady growth and strength. Guido made sure the tree was far enough back so that its branches did not cross the DMZ demarcation line. Guido’s spider guard buddy was back on duty at the Arthropodan border crossing shack.

  “I cannot believe it,” griped the spider guard. “I take one day off, and you start a war!”

  “We didn’t start it,” replied Guido. “But we sure as hell won it.”

  “In your human pestilence dreams,” scoffed the spider guard. “Did you know about the grand opening of the Angry Onion Tavern? I hear there will be live music and lots of babes.”

  “The Hell’s Angels Corporation owns it,” said Guido. “It’s a biker bar. We are finally getting some culture here in New Gobi. All we need now is a decent pizza parlor.”

  “Are you going to the grand opening?” asked the spider guard. “There is going to be a free salad bar.”

  “Probably. I’ll be there if you spiders don’t start another war between now and then. I think that commander of yours is wound a bit too tight.”

  “Most officers are,” said the spider guard, noticing movement behind Guido. About two blocks on the human pestilence side of the border, steam rose from the ground. It brought traffic to a halt.

  “What is that?” asked Guido. “A geyser? I didn’t think we had geothermal activity under New Gobi.”

  “You are right,” said the spider guard. “We do not. Get into your bunker. That is one of our tunnels caving in.”

  Guido sounded the alarm. Infantry and armor massed at the border again. This time wary troops held back on shooting first and asking questions later. Several spider diggers emerged from the tunnel with their claws up, and were taken prisoner. In the interests of peace and not having my office bombed again, I released them. But, they were only let go after their commander signed a document stating his commandos were intentionally trespassing on United States Galactic Federation territory, and that the spider commander was a bad, nasty ogre who climbed out from under a rock and regularly had sex with farm animals. I slipped that last part into the fine print, and prominently displayed the document on the wall of my office. It quickly became a tourist attraction.

  * * * * *

  Our personal Cold War continued. The spider commander built a Grand Victory Arch at the border crossing. The Arch looked impressive from the Legion side, but it was merely a hollow façade. Not to be outdone, I had a scaled-down version of the Statue of Liberty built facing the spiders from the border crossing. However, instead of holding a torch, Madam Liberty was shaking her fist at the spiders. My first inclination was for her to be giving the one-fingered salute, but Captain Lopez talked me out of that. He said it would be in bad taste. I’m sure he was right. The statue was impressive enough to be a tourist attraction. It rivaled the Cold War Walmart as both a tourist attraction and photo stop.

  * * * * *

  I met with Legion engineers and geologists.

  “We are still getting technology-driven seismic activity,” explained the engineer. “At first we thought it was more spider tunneling because it was on our side of the border. But now I think the spiders are angling their well drilling equipment under the border in hopes of tapping into an aquifer on our side of the DMZ.”

  “Can we stop or intercept their drills?” I asked. “I do not want the spiders stealing from our water source.”

  “That would be impossible,” said the engineer. “The only way to stop their drills is to attack their equipment on the surface.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  “I have some more interesting news,” said one of the geologists. “The source of our water is an underground river. It runs for hundreds of miles.”

  “Is that why there is no water on their side of the border?” I asked.

  “Most certainly the river crosses the border at some point,” explained the geologist. “The spiders just have not yet found where it turns north.”

  “How much water is down there?” I asked. “Enough for a large city?”

  “That is the exciting part,” said the geologist. “The underground river may be as large as the New Mississippi River. There is enough water down there to irrigate the entire New Gobi Desert.”

  “Is that something we want to do?” I asked.

  “I thought that was why we are here,” said the geologist. “There is no gold or oil in the New Gobi. But the New Gobi’s year round growing season makes it invaluable if you have a dependable source of water. As an area for growing food crops and raising livestock, the New Gobi could be turned into a paradise that rivals Old Earth California. Its potential is unlimited.”

  “Should we be buying real estate?” asked Captain Lopez. “Do you think we could grow oranges and raise cattle?”

  “I don’t see why not,” answered the geologist. “Add water to the mix, and the New Gobi would be perfect for that.”

  “My hacienda will grow oranges for as far as the eye can see,” said Captain Lopez. “I will be the Marquis of the Valley. We need to keep this a secret just among us until we can buy our land. If this information gets out, the price of land will skyrocket.”

  “Who owns the New Gobi Desert?” I asked.

  “The United States Galactic Federation owns all public land on our half of New Colorado,” replied the geologist. “Anyone can file a claim for free land if they have a plan to develop it. However, water rights are held in trust for the public good and regulated by the Office of the Governor.”

  “Dios maldita sea,” fumed Captain Lopez. “There is always a catch to prevent my prosperity.”

  “The Office of the Governor is General Kalipetsis,” I said. “We will have to bring him in on any land speculation. He can seal the deal on water rights.”

  “No way,” argued Captain Lopez. “That won’t be necessary. When word gets out, a land rush will happen. We want that. By then we will already own the best land. General Kalipetsis will have no choice but to sell water rights to the new settlers.”

  “What about the spiders?” I asked. “I am not cutting that spider commander in on any deal.”

  “The same thing will happen on their side of the border once they tap the underground river,” said the geologist. “There may be border disputes. We should survey the border and make sure boundaries are clearly marked.”

  “Can we buy land on the spider side?” I asked.

  “That would be a risky investment,” said the geologist. “You might consult a spider lawyer on that. Being that the spiders have nationalized human mining and oil operations in the occupied North, I don’t think your investment would be secure.”

  “It might be if the Arthropodan Governor ceded the New Gobi Desert to us,” I suggested. “Maybe we could work out a land swap deal with them.”

  “Don’t be greedy,” said Captain Lopez. “There are riches enough for us all.”

  * * * * *

  The spider commander looked up at the artillery and missile launchers on the hill next to that gaudy human pestilence church. It will be an easy target, he thought. At night, the light from that church can be seen for a hundred miles. They think their artillery will be safe hiding next to a church? Or under it, in tunnels? Maybe I will just nuke the whole hill.

  The spider commander’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of his engineers. He turned his attention and anger to them. “Why has the human pestilence found water, and all you can find is dust? They have found so much water, they waste it on a public fountain next to that obscene statue at the border crossing. The fools throw coins in the water. I saw it with my own eight eyes.”

  “I do not understand it,” said the engineer. “The geology is the same on both sides of the border. The ground out here is like cement, but the water table should be at the same level on both sides of the border. Maybe they have tapped into an isolated aquifer. Or maybe we are just having bad luck.”

  “Get a human pestilence water witcher
if you have to,” said the spider commander. “I want water! If I do not get water soon, you will learn the true and painful meaning of what it means to have bad luck.”

  Back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 7

  The Angry Onion Tavern, like Walmart, was divided by the Military Demarcation Line (MDL). Unlike Walmart, bar patrons were allowed to cross the MDL and mingle. It just was not practical to shoot drunks who staggered across the line. The spider commander and I were both ordered to make the concept work. It was hoped that the Hell’s Angels Corporation, having both human and spider membership, could further dialogue between humanity and the spiders. In other words, the eggheads had some sociological theories they wanted to prove, and we were the experiment.

  I pointed out to General Kalipetsis that there were already plenty of well functioning organizations that had both spider and human membership, such as the Foreign Legion, various sheriffs’ offices, the Fraternal Order of Elks, and even the Mafia. I argued that giving creditability and backing to the Hell’s Angels, a possibly dangerous gang of drug dealers, extortionists, and anarchists, might be a mistake. General Kalipetsis said the Hell’s Angels concerts had positive results, and that the decision had already been negotiated and made by the President and the Emperor. Joint projects by humanity and the spiders were to be given priority and encouragement, even if they involved humans and spiders drinking themselves blind at a biker bar on the MDL. “End of discussion.”

  * * * * *