The Ark Page 6

  * * * * *

  A spider guard returned General Lopez’s uniform and personal property. “You are free to go now that your medical condition has been stabilized,” advised the spider guard.

  General Lopez sorted through his belongings and got dressed. He found a stiletto still hidden in his boot, eying the spider guard menacingly. “You’re the same spider trash who ate my ear,” accused General Lopez.

  “I regret the loss of your ear lobe,” replied the spider guard, contritely. “It is my understanding that you human pestilence cannot grow back lost body appendages like we do. That is truly a shame. Do not blame me. I believe your ear lobe was disintegrated by an errant electrical surge.”

  “I saw you eat it!” insisted General Lopez, as he palmed the knife.

  “To human pestilence, all us spiders all look alike,” advised the spider guard, uncomfortably. “You are confusing me with another guard. It was not me.”

  “I am a Military Intelligence officer,” advised General Lopez, as he stood up from his bed. “I have lived among you spider trash for years. I can tell you apart. Did my ear taste good? I wonder what your heart will taste like when I cut it out and eat it while it still pumps what you pass for blood.”

  “It tasted like burnt bacon!” goaded the spider guard, losing his temper. The spider guard took a step back, drawing his pistol and aiming it at Lopez. A second guard pointed his rifle. Lopez, still palming his knife, took a step closer, hoping for an opening. Then he shrugged it off.

  “What goes on here?” asked a spider officer, bursting into the room to interrupt the confrontation. “Is this the human pestilence General Lopez?”

  “What’s it to you?” asked General Lopez. “Who are you?”

  “I am with the Intelligentsia State Security Service. I was sent to interrogate you. From now on, I will ask the questions, not you!”

  General Lopez glanced at the officer’s insignia. It looked odd. “You’re an officer?”

  “He is an Intelligentsia cadet,” advised the spider guard, dismissively. “For reasons unknown, he has not been awarded his graduation ribbon.”

  “That was through no fault of my own,” retorted the Intelligentsia cadet. “Politics at the highest level once again reared its ugly mandibles and conspired to deprive me of my due! Someday the bosses will be forced to fully appreciate my many talents.”

  “You are not authorized to interrogate General Lopez,” advised the spider guard. “Lopez was ordered released to the Legion by the Supreme Commander. His interrogation ended satisfactorily yesterday.”

  “Nonsense, you fool!” rebuked the Intelligentsia cadet. “Lopez is a general with much more information to be extracted. I will prove that to your superiors. Where is the torture kit we mailed you?”

  “That torture kit was discarded after the interrogation,” answered the spider guard. “It malfunctioned. See what happened to Lopez’s ear? I think we auctioned the kit off on eBay as defective military surplus.”

  “Add incompetence to your long list of inadequacies, right next to being a fool!” admonished the Intelligentsia cadet. “No matter! I will proceed without the torture kit. I prefer the more personal methods anyway.”

  “I’m leaving,” announced General Lopez, shoving the cadet as he attempted to push by the spiders. “Get out of my way!”

  The cadet pushed General Lopez back. The two guards braced for another confrontation, fingering triggers. “This impertinent human pestilence needs to be taught a lesson!” advised the Intelligentsia cadet. “I will teach him the meaning of respect.”

  “Any lesson taught here today won’t be taught by the likes of you,” sneered General Lopez. “You’re an idiot and a coward! You are only brave enough to bully defenseless prisoners, and then only with the help of your Nazi goons!”

  “Leave us!” ordered the Intelligentsia cadet, motioning for the guards to step outside the door. “I do not need help giving this arrogant human pestilence officer an attitude adjustment he will never forget!”

  “I advise against us leaving,” replied the spider guard. “Lopez is dangerous.”

  “This idiot coward called you both incompetent fools,” advised General Lopez. “He didn’t even graduate, but thinks he knows your job better than you do. Leave the cadet alone with me, and I’ll school him. Maybe I’ll even forgive you for eating my ear!”

  “I did not eat your ear!” lied the spider guard.

  Lopez heard the spider’s stomach rumble and figured the matter was giving him indigestion. “Whatever,” he dismissed. “Keep telling yourself that lie, and maybe someday you’ll believe it.”

  “Both of you, get out!” ordered the Intelligentsia cadet. “Now! Your mere incompetent presence fuels this human pestilence’s arrogance.”

  The spider guard hissed. “As you wish, sir!” he replied. Both spider guards backed out of the hospital room, closing and the door.

  “On your knees!” ordered the Intelligence cadet, removing handcuffs from his duty belt. “We have much to talk about.”

  General Lopez did not comply. He just stood there, his knife still concealed. “I have nothing to say to you, bendaho!”

  “Sticks and stones,” advised the intelligentsia cadet, adjusting his translation device. “You will experience much pain.” When the cadet read the definition of ‘bendaho’ on his translation device, he angrily pounced on General Lopez.

  As the cadet’s claw struck in a downward hammer chop motion, Lopez deflected the blow with a counterstrike to the spider’s elbow joint. Lopez used the cadet’s forward momentum to flip the spider over his shoulder and onto his back, flat on the floor. The cadet lay motionless, the breath knocked out of him. The cadet’s startled eyes followed the glint of light reflecting off General Lopez’s boot knife as the blade sliced twice across the cadet’s throat.

  General Lopez stuffed the Intelligentsia cadet’s body into a laundry cart. He cautiously opened the hospital door a crack and peered out. Both spider guards were gone. General Lopez boldly walked out the front door of the infirmary, and caught a cab to the border checkpoint.

  “I’ll get my second star now!” he boasted as he returned Guido’s salute and was welcomed back by fellow legionnaires.

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  Chapter 7

  The McDonald’s Corporation opened a new restaurant in Caldera City on the USGF side of the border. Prominently featured on opening day were all new triple-patty Croc Burgers with extra cheese. Dinners included croc-green chocolate milk shakes.

  On the same day, Starbucks had its grand opening of a new restaurant on the spider side. An addendum of local territorial agreements allowed Starbucks to employ coffee runners to deliver lattes and mochas to legionnaires across the border. Something had to be done to prevent border tension, because McDonald’s coffee sucked.

  Work on the Legion’s tunnel progressed nicely. The spiders made a direction change on their tunnel, based on information given by General Lopez. In a grand ceremony in New Phoenix, General Manny The Ear Lopez, Hero of the Legion, was promoted to Major General. Retiring General Daly personally pinned Lopez’s second star. General Lopez ordered me to arrest Corporal Ceausescu for assault. Action on my part is still pending. I advised Manny The Ear Lopez our combat effectiveness would be severely jeopardized if I arrested Ceausescu before a replacement medic arrived. As a compromise, I placed Ceausescu under house tent arrest, pending legal proceedings. Ceausescu ignored all restrictions and visited the spider commander whenever she wanted.

  Harrah’s Corporation completed a ten-story hotel casino tower, and contemplated building another. New Memphis Gaming altered their casino construction project of the New Memphis Belle Hotel Casino to one better, eleven stories. Jimmy The Neck swore he would not be out done, even if Harrah’s brought in heavy hitters from Stanford.

  I entered the New Memphis Belle, intent on rest, relaxation, and playing blackjack. All casinos pay me a percentage in exchange for their business license. It’s the law. I was mi
xing business with pleasure by checking on my business interests.

  I count cards at blackjack. The trick is to count aces and ten-valued cards against cards of six or lower. In a double deck, when the deck still holds more high cards than low cards, the odds slightly favor the player. That is when a player raises his bet.

  I sat patiently, playing blackjack, making the minimum five-dollar bet and watching my stack fluctuate small amounts. Finally the count turned positive as I watched consecutive low cards dealt, seeing only one king. On the next hand, I nonchalantly slid five thousand dollars worth of chips out to the betting circle. Normally the dealer would have shuffled early, but she did not catch my bump up bet until she had started the deal. However, as the dealer called out, “Purple action!” the phone rang at the pit boss station. The pit boss listened intently, then turned and stared at me. He came over to talk.

  “Sir, what is your name?” asked the pit boss.

  “Joey The Toe,” I replied. “What’s it to you? I’m a friend of Jimmy The Neck.”

  Despite my rudeness, we shook hands. However, I never took my eyes off the dealer’s cards. I was dealt a jack and a queen. The dealer had a nine up. She picked up her other card to reveal a ten! I won an easy five thousand dollars. I collected my winnings and bet only five dollars for the next hand.

  “Normally we throw card-counters and cheats to the crocs,” advised the pit boss. “But since you say you know Jimmy The Neck, I put in a call, just in case you’re connected, which I doubt. He’ll be here shortly. In the meantime, I suggest you play some craps or roulette.”

  I nodded across the room to Sergeant Green, Sergeant Williams, and Corporal Wayne. They sauntered over, brandishing assault rifles. “I brought my own muscle,” I advised. “It is you who will be thrown to the crocs if you call me a card cheat one more time. Counting cards is not cheating.”

  “Who do you think you are, bringing guns into a casino?” asked the pit boss. “That’s against the law!”

  “We’re the Legion,” I advised. “This casino depends on us for its business license.”

  Jimmy The Neck suddenly appeared to interrupt the confrontation. “Colonel Czerinski!” he exclaimed. “What a pleasure to see you again. How do you like the Belle? Isn’t she grand?”

  “Do something about your pit boss,” I suggested. “He’s pissing me off.”

  “This legionnaire is counting cards,” advised the pit boss. “He bumped his bet up five thousand dollars from a five dollar bet!”

  “Take a lunch break,” ordered Jimmy The Neck, dismissing the pit boss. Then he returned his attention to me. “He’s just doing his job, Joey. He’s new.”

  “I’m fine with that,” I said. “So, I can continue to play blackjack without being hassled?”

  “You can play craps or slots or roulette,” explained Jimmy The Neck. “You may eat at our fine restaurants. But, you’re too good to play blackjack here. Sorry, Joey.”

  “But I just started,” I complained. “You don’t know if I’m a good player or not.” “No card-counters allowed,” advised Jimmy The Neck. “It’s not personal, it’s business.” “Okay, fine,” I said, shaking hands with Jimmy. “Nice place you have. Show me where you throw troublemakers to the crocs.” “You’re not still upset?” asked Jimmy The Neck, anxiously. “Our policy on card-counters isn’t any different than any other casino.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not taking it personal. My interest in your crocs is purely professional.”

  We walked out to a balcony overlooking the lake. A croc hissed hungrily up at us. Sergeant Williams dropped part of a hotdog down at the croc. Snap! The hotdog was gone.

  “Business is good?” I asked.

  “Business is fantastic,” replied Jimmy The Neck. “Busloads of tourists are pouring in and literally begging us to take their money.”

  “But business isn’t so good that you can’t let me play a little recreational blackjack?” I asked. I turned to my legionnaires. “Business isn’t so good that you feel you must embarrass me in public over a card game because you only want suckers playing cards at your casino? I’m going to enjoy whacking you. Throw him to the crocs!”

  “No, wait!” shouted Jimmy The Neck as Corporal Wayne picked up the little wise guy with one claw. “You can play as much blackjack as you want! I was just testing you. It was all just a joke!”

  “You were testing my sense of humor? Ha! I was testing you too! A good laugh had by all!” “Does this mean I can’t throw this human pestilence Mafia to the crocs?” asked Corporal Wayne, dejectedly. “You promised I could.” “Not now, but the night is still young. Drinks are on me!” “There’s no such thing as the Mafia,” grumbled Jimmy The Neck, as he was gently set down.

  * * * * *

  Next we went to Harrah’s Hotel & Casino. As I sat at a blackjack table, Harrah’s business agent, Mickey Romo, immediately greeted me. “I’m truly sorry, colonel, but our Stanford-created face and retina recognition scanners have identified you as a card-counter. Policy dictates you may not play here.”

  “In about ten minutes the, P. Paulsen Space Weapons Platform, in orbit around New Colorado, will drop a meteor from space on your Olympic-sized pool,” I advised, pressing a button on my communications pad. “Your business license just expired.”

  “Now, see here, you venal cretin,” replied Romo. “You can’t just bully your way into our casino and shake us down. As Legion commander, you already get a cut. You’re not entitled to more. You’re not happy with the standard cut?”

  “Venal?” I asked. “That’s a new word to me. Did he just insult me?” “I think so,” advised Sergeant Green. “I know what cretin means,” added Sergeant Williams. “It means dumb.” “You’ve been called that before?” asked Sergeant Green. “Shut up!” replied Sergeant Williams, giving Green a shove. “The three stooges will leave, or be escorted out by security,” advised Romo to a pit boss, showing complete disdain for us. “What about the swimming pool?” asked the pit boss. “You have about seven minutes,” I advised. “I suggest you begin evacuations.” “You weren’t serious,” challenged Romo. “Even you wouldn’t be that reckless.” “They don’t call Czerinski the Butcher of New Colorado for nothing,” warned Corporal Wayne. “Take my name out of your card-cheaters database,” I ordered. “If I can’t play blackjack here, I’m going to whack your pool. You have six minutes.”

  Romo ordered security to evacuate the pool just in case. “I can’t alter what’s in the computer,” he protested. “That data is stored at Stanford University. What are you going to do? Bomb Stanford University?”

  “Four minutes,” I advised. “Okay, you win!” announced Romo. “You can play blackjack at Harrah’s! Happy now?” “And your dealer won’t shuffle early, or mess with the deck?” I asked. “We will not interfere with the game,” promised Romo. “It’s doesn’t matter anyway. The game will take care of itself. Play as much blackjack as you want!”

  “Thank you, but I’d rather play craps,” I replied, getting up from the table. I started making ‘field’ bets at the craps table.

  Romo followed me to the craps table. “Check the dice,” he told the pit boss. “I wouldn’t put anything past Czerinski and his henchmen.”

  “We’ve been elevated from cretins to henchmen?” asked Sergeant Green. “Did you know the New Memphis Belle is now one story taller than Harrah’s?” I asked Romo. “Those Mafia bastards!” exclaimed Romo, making another phone call to security. “When did this happen?” “Jimmy The Neck claims there is no such thing as the Mafia,” advised Sergeant Williams. “He told us so himself earlier tonight.” “Those wise guys must have built an extra story during the night when we weren’t looking,” speculated Romo. “Did you know those thugs ordered our Teamsters construction workers not to build over eleven stories? And now this!”

  “New Memphis Gaming sometimes skirts the law,” I advised. “What can I do?” “Did you know they installed cable TV?” asked Romo. “Ha! They snuck that in right unde
r the Legion’s nose.” “Impossible!” I gasped. “Our patrols would have seen the cable.” Romo snickered. “The cable was installed from the spider side. They hid it under Caldera Lake and beachfront sand.” “This outrage must be stopped,” I said, pounding my fist on the side of the craps table. “Friends don’t let friends watch cable.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

  “It’s a serious breach of treaty,” added Sergeant Green.

  Action needed to be taken immediately. Once you let the Cable Guy extend his tentacles into a neighborhood, it was almost impossible to get rid of the infestation. The dice rolled. Twelve! I won a large field bet. Finally! I turned to Sergeant Green. “Roust the engineer company out of their barracks, and direct them to tear apart the Belle until we find that cable. Now!”

  Suddenly there was a large explosion from outside. Several windows cracked. Customers at the tables screamed and fled. Determined slot players continued playing.

  “A fireball just hit the swimming pool!” a security officer announced. “Everyone remain calm.” “What?” I asked. “Sergeant Green! I thought I ordered you to cancel bombing the pool!” “You ordered the pool bombed?” asked Sergeant Green. “That’s news to me.” “You destroyed our pool?” asked Romo. “But we had an agreement! I let you play blackjack!” “Sorry. I forgot about the pool.”

  * * * * *

  General Lopez rushed back to Caldera City when he heard of the egregious infiltration by the Cable Guy into sovereign USGF territory. Cable TV had wormed its way across the border before, but never with the help of an American casino.

  “Have you planned a retaliatory strike?” asked General Lopez, anxiously. “We cannot tolerate Arthropodan duplicity in this matter.”

  “Not yet, sir,” I answered. “I spoke to the spider commander. He denies any involvement. He blames the Mafia and claims his marines can’t be everywhere. That spider shirks his duties.”