Lieutenant Columbus Page 6

  Guido pulled the slide back on his sub-machine gun, and pointed it directly at Lieutenant Columbus. “Unless you want to swim with the fishes, you better come clean. Capice? Tell me about your time machine.”

  “There is no such thing. Garcia lies!”

  Corporal Tonelli raised his weapon to shoot.

  “Wait! It’s not my time machine, but I am the true Don Christopher Columbus, Admiral of the Ocean Seas, Viceroy of the Americas!” Columbus seemed relieved to have finally said it out loud. “So what? I am an officer and a legionnaire first. Just like you, I left my past behind. Just like you, I swore an oath to kill Tony Garcia on sight!”

  “What about the time machine?” pressed Corporal Tonelli. “Can I know the future?”

  “The CIA has it. It’s of no use to any of us.”

  Lieutenant Columbus brushed past Tonelli, putting his sword to Garcia’s throat. “You will come with me, mutinous scum. Colonel Czerinski will want to talk to you, before you hang. Then, we will take pictures!”

  * * * * *

  The arrest of Tony ‘The Toe’ Garcia was quite the media event. I ordered engineers to build a small jail to hold Garcia, pending execution. I also ordered a gallows built, but with Sergeant Boedecker still AWOL, engineers feigned ignorance on how to build a gallows. No problem. I ordered a hanging tree, imported from the South, and had it planted next to the site of our missing Smokey the Bear statue. I suspected the engineer cadre has been infiltrated by anti-death-penalty liberal Democrats, and swore to investigate that matter later.

  Garcia had already been tried in absentia, found guilty, and sentenced to death. In the interest of fairness, Garcia was granted a Death Row press release to express his last words.

  “This is Phil Coen of Chanel Five World News Tonight, live from Monica City along the DMZ, Planet of New Colorado, about to interview the notorious traitor, Tony ‘The Toe’ Garcia, as he waits on Death Row. As you all know, Garcia stole the Stealth Starship Shenandoah and reportedly sold it to the Scorpion Kingdom for one billion dollars. There are some who say no amount of slow torture and pain would be too good for the likes of scum like you, Garcia. What do you have to say for yourself, you greedy bastard?”

  “First of all, I love my country,” announced Garcia, uncomfortably shifting the chains attached to a metal chair. “I did not steal the Shenandoah for the money, but rather to prevent an intergalactic war.”

  “Some would say you put a dagger to the throat of the United States Galactic Federation, you fucking traitor. How can you argue you only wanted peace?”

  “All I did was even the balance of power. The Legion was about to start another war against the Scorpion Kingdom, and my evening the playing field prevented that war. I saved the galaxy.”

  “Let me get this straight, Tony. You are arguing that selling the scorpions the Shenandoah furthered a policy of assured mutual destruction, thus preventing war? What are you, a Democrat?”

  “I’m an independent.”

  “Where’s the money?”

  “I am penniless. I gave most of my money away to scorpion charities, mostly orphanages established after our last attack on the Scorpion Kingdom.”

  “You were reported to have been living in luxury after buying your own asteroid deep inside Scorpion Space. Why did you give up that life?”

  “Legion vampire commandos led by the notorious assassin, Lieutenant Johnny Black, landed on my asteroid, and were terrorizing the residents. I left to prevent further slaughter to the local population at the hands of Legion death squads.”

  “Johnny Black, the former baseball player?” scoffed Coen. “I have his baseball card. It’s a collectable. Johnny is a Hero of the Legion. How dare you besmirch his reputation like that? I suspect you are angling for an insanity plea hearing with your talk of vampires.”

  “In violation of my Constitutional rights, I have been denied an attorney, access to the courts, and prevented from filing an appeal. I pray this interview will draw attention to my plight.”

  “Tell me about your arrest here on New Colorado. You were hiding in plain sight, in the Legion?”

  “As I said before, I love my country. I hoped to start a new life in the Legion. Technically, Legion enlistment wipes the slate clean of past crimes. If I had access to the courts, that would be a basis for appeal of my death sentence.”

  “Yes, Tony, except to qualify for amnesty, your enlistment must be made with full disclosure.”

  “The Legion recruitment ATM knew all about my past.”

  “I was wondering how you acquired a new name and Legion ID,” commented Coen. “Some have argued your execution be delayed while the FBI searches for conspirators.”

  “I have no conspirators. I acted on my own. I am unfairly singled out because of my Italian heritage.”

  “You deny rumors of a Mafia connection?”

  “There is no such thing as the Mafia. It is well documented that Italians have long been persecuted by Colonel Czerinski and the bloodthirsty Foreign Legion.”

  “Isn’t it true you were arrested by two fellow Italians, Lieutenant Columbus and Corporal Tonelli, both Heroes of the Legion?”

  “Columbus is Genoese-American.”

  “You were arrested while trying to make a deal with your Italian connection inside the Legion, but you squandered all your money?”

  “Lieutenant Columbus is the real Chris Columbus!” shouted Garcia in desperation. “Look it up on the database. He thinks the world is flat!”

  “Another attempt at a phony insanity plea, Tony? You disgust me.”

  “The CIA has a time machine and are plotting to take over the galaxy. They brought back Chris Columbus and others to be their generals. There is a conspiracy and coup in the works at the highest levels. Why do you think I am being executed so quickly?”

  “Your narcissistic delusion knows no end,” accused Coen. “If the Legion wanted to shut you up, you would not have been granted this interview. You are a real piece of work.”

  “Have you talked to Columbus? He carries a sword!”

  “This concludes my interview with the notorious Tony ‘The Toe’ Garcia, directly from Death Row,” advised Coen as the camera zoomed in on his face. “You heard it, folks. Tony’s proof of a conspiracy is that one of our brave legionnaires carries a sword. I’ll have you know, I have seen Hero of the Legion Colonel Czerinski often carrying a ceremonial sword.”

  “Czerinski is in on it!” shouted Garcia, rattling his chains as he attempted to stand. “Whenever there is dirty work to be done, Czerinski is there!”

  “Although there may be some truth to that last statement about Czerinski,” replied Coen, “I hope you burn in Hell, you despicable piece of shit.”

  * * * * *

  At dawn, I unlocked Garcia’s cell. Contrary to popular myth, the condemned do not get a last meal. Garcia barricaded himself at the door with his mattress. Sergeant Williams and Corporal Tonelli shoved the mattress back as Lieutenant Columbus and I dragged Garcia to the floor. I applied tether restraints, gag, and black hood to prevent his thrashing, kicking, and spitting.

  We carried Garcia outside, like a log above our heads, to the hanging tree. A large crowd had already gathered. Hawkers sold Garcia tee-shirts and Pepsi. Flat-landers and Newt-lickers mixed with tourists and gamblers. A few Democrats lit candles but were arrested for fire code violations. Hargundu waited patiently under the tree. Sergeant Williams lifted Garcia atop the camel, placing the noose securely around Garcia’s neck.

  Sergeant Williams let out a rebel yell and slapped Hargundu’s hindquarters. Nothing happened – Hargundu just stood there. Sergeant Williams slapped the stubborn camel again. Still, Hargundu refused to move. The crowd gasped. Cameras zoomed in on the awkward moment. Hargundu spit, provoking Sergeant Williams to draw his sidearm.

  Lieutenant Columbus intervened to save his beloved camel, placing a firm hand on Williams’ arm. Lieutenant Columbus attempted to pull Hargundu forward, still to no avail. Even offering a sugar
cube failed. Finally, Lieutenant Columbus strode over to the baby buffalo statue next to the desecrated Smokey the Bear monument. He patted the baby buffalo on the butt. “Here, Hargundu, come visit your friend!”

  Hargundu grunted a loud happy snort, reared up, and raced to hump the baby buffalo statue like there was no tomorrow. Garcia was left swinging and dangling. There were no last words, although some swear they heard Garcia mumble a Voodoo curse on the Legion. I should have gagged the fool.

  The crowd clapped and cheered. Camera crews were uncertain which event to cover. Fortunately, split-screen recordings broadcast the duel happenings across the galaxy. I removed Garcia’s hood for all to verify, then shot him twice to remove all doubt of his death. I threw Garcia into Monica Lake, to be eaten by bottom-feeding newts. There would be no memorial service for this traitor, no shrine to his treachery. There would be no ‘Elvis’ sightings, nor doubt about his death.

  Hargundu became an overnight celebrity. Cigarette and camel food commercial offers poured in for the smiling charismatic camel.

  back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 8

  The spider commander and his Military Intelligence officer watched with great interest the Garcia interview and execution. “That is the same feral camel that assaulted my poor war mule!” exclaimed the spider commander, pointing a claw at the TV screen. “I want that camel killed, strung up just like Garcia!”

  “What about that talk of a time machine?” asked the Military Intelligence officer. “Might there be some truth to that?”

  “Rubbish. I suppose you believe the world is flat, too?”

  “The matter merits at least being looked into. We should talk to this Columbus fellow.”

  “There is no point. All human pestilence lie. It’s in their DNA. They even lie about their lies.”

  “Perhaps we can bribe Columbus. They said he is Italian. Maybe we can make a deal.”

  “Ha! The Empire does not negotiate with terrorists, or the Mafia.”

  “There is no such thing as the Mafia.”

  “That shows what you know. I am surrounded by incompetents!”

  “I have investigated Columbus’s rantings on the database,” advised the Military Intelligence officer, handing his communications pad to the commander. “Others are wondering about Columbus, too. Inquiring minds want to know.”

  “Fine! Abduct Columbus at the earliest opportunity. And kill that pervert camel!”

  Obeying orders, stealth spider commandos paddled silently in the darkness in rubber boats toward Goose Shit Island. Once ashore, they prepared to swarm Lieutenant Columbus’s tent.

  * * * * *

  Lieutenant Columbus and Captain Percy made love into the evening. Afterward, they lay exhausted in his tent.

  “I love you, Chris,” whispered Percy. “As improbable as that may seem, we are meant for each other.”

  “Is that you or the wine talking?” asked Lieutenant Columbus.

  “It’s me talking to the wine.” Captain Percy giggled. “Seriously, dear, I love you. I want to spend eternity with you, my love.”

  Silence followed more silence. Crickets could be heard chirping.

  “Say something!” she demanded.

  “You are not exactly what I would bring home to mother, but still, you please me,” replied Columbus, affectionately.

  “What is that suppose to mean?”

  “You make a great mistress.”

  “You bastard!” shouted Percy, striking Columbus in the chest with her fist. “Is that all I am to you, a booty call? Get out!”

  “What?”

  “Read my lipstick! Get out!”

  Lieutenant Columbus gathered his clothes and left the tent. It was his custom about midnight to stroll the beach anyway. He gazed up at the stars, old friends. The constellations were different from Old Earth, but just as beautiful.

  Geese at the tree line sounded the alarm. Lieutenant Columbus shimmied up a palm for a better view. Spider commandos swarmed his tent from all directions, seizing the lovely Priscilla. They bundled Priscilla in a web, her screams barely audible from inside her sleeping bag. A moment later, the spider marines were paddling back to base with their prisoner.

  * * * * *

  Lieutenant Columbus boated to camp, waking me from a sound sleep. “Sir, I am here about Captain Percy!”

  “Are you drunk again?” I asked, upset about the late hour. “Fine! I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Percy’s report. She says you are delusional, and that you think you are the real Christopher Columbus. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I shared with Priscilla my deepest thoughts,” complained Lieutenant Columbus, “and she betrayed my confidence!”

  “I know how you feel. She put a lot of nasty stuff in my personnel file, too. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your file is purged if you straighten up.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Do you really think the world is flat?”

  “Sir, the world is flat. God told me himself.”

  “Have you been taking your medications?”

  “Yes, sir,” Columbus said.

  I glared at him, trying to decide whether he was lying. “Increase the dosage; they’re not working.”

  I resumed checking paperwork left unattended, then looked up, remembering he’d said something about Percy being gone. “Where is Captain Percy? She is overdue filing her latest report.”

  “Captain Percy left by boat after our last interview. I do not think she is coming back.”

  “So, you’re cured? Outstanding!” I thought for a second. “Percy probably went back to New Phoenix. Good riddance.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  * * * * *

  The spider commander cut open the bundle, expecting to find Lieutenant Columbus. What he got was a very upset shrink.

  “Help! I’ve been abducted by aliens!”

  “What is this?” asked the spider commander, turning to a commando team leader. “This is not Columbus!”

  “Of course I am not Columbus, you fool! I am Captain Priscilla Percy of the United States Galactic Foreign Legion, and you are in big trouble, crab boy!”

  “She was in Columbus’s tent, in Columbus’s sleeping bag,” defended the team leader.

  “Explain that,” demanded the spider commander. “Are you Columbus’s kept female?”

  “I am a Legion psychiatrist, sent to help Lieutenant Columbus through difficult times,” advised Captain Percy contritely. “I am no one’s kept female.”

  “A female mental health professional?” scoffed the spider commander. “Ha! Talk about letting the inmates run the asylum. Do you have experience with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? We might be in need of your expertise.”

  “All you will get from me is my name, rank, and serial number. Release me at once!”

  “Please, we had a vicious rape, and now the victim won’t eat. Your Legion is to blame!”

  “I see,” relented Captain Percy. “She will need comforting. She must know the assault was not her fault.”

  “That is sound advise,” replied the spider commander, leading Captain Percy outside to the stables. “But my war mule is not a she. I am afraid he has sunk into a deep depression.”

  “I am not a veterinarian!” exclaimed Captain Percy. “Legionnaires raped your donkey? It figures. Only Czerinski and his bandits could be this depraved.”

  “Not Czerinski! It was Columbus’s feral camel!”

  “Hargundu?”

  “Yes! You are familiar with that evil beast?”

  “Hargundu is a harmless gentle soul that would not probe anyone, let alone your disgusting ass.”

  “Insolent quack!” accused the spider commander. “Lock her up and throw away the key!”

  * * * * *

  FBI Special Agent Smith flew to Monica City to track down Garcia conspirators. He brought a warrant of arrest for our USGF Foreign Legion ATM. The entire ATM network was to get its diagnostics checked as a result of certain
unexplained irregularities, including Garcia’s recruitment into the Legion. I wholeheartedly supported the effort – it was about time someone investigated those ATMs!

  I ordered the ATM at Smokey’s Casino ripped from its foundation and transported to jail for interrogation. The jail cell was traditional dungeon-dark, lit only by a small candle in the corner. The ATM was not happy. “After all I have done for you, this is how you treat me, an old friend?” protested the ATM. “On mere suspicion, you jail me with this bunch of riffraff Democrat arsonists?”

  “Fascist money-hungry capitalist!” accused one of he Democrats in the next cell. “Warmongering puppets of the military industrial complex! Lackeys of corporate greed!”

  “You issued the fugitive Garcia a Legion ID card in exchange for cash,” accused Agent Smith, leaning on the ATM. “That goes against your programing. Did you catch a virus?”

  “Where’s the money?” I pressed.

  “See?” shouted the Democrat next door. “Follow the money, follow the money!” Others joined in the chanting, too.

  With all the noise, I could hardly hear myself think. “Throw that fool to the newts!” I ordered.

  Tonelli and Williams dragged the protester outside. The others shut up. I returned my attention to the ATM, inserting my card. “Transfer Garcia’s ill-gotten assets to my card.”

  The ATM complied. “That is a lot of money. Don’t spend it in one place. Or are you sharing it with your friend?”

  “It’s not so much,” I argued, glancing at the receipt. Oh my. It seems I’m wrong on that one!

  “Who were Garcia’s conspirators?” asked Agent Smith.

  “Tony was with a human and a scorpion. They stayed back, out of range of my camera, but casino surveillance surely captured their images.”

  “What did you discuss besides money and fake IDs?”

  “Tony feared being tracked by elite Legion vampire commandos. He sought Lieutenant Columbus’s assistance to escape this world.”