America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion (12 page)

“You assumed?” asked Guido. “Do you have any
idea what damage your tank treads will do to the streets of
downtown New Memphis? And what about all those parked cars? Are you
just going to run them over to get by? Who is going to pay for all
the damage you are going to cause?”

“Not me,” said the tank commander. “I guess
the Emperor will pay.”

“Are you sure?” asked Guido. “You better be
sure, because if the Emperor gets a bill for millions of credits
damage, he is going to be on you like a fly on dog poop.”

“I never thought of that,” said the tank
commander, calling his headquarters for clarification of his
orders. As he talked, Guido and his monitor dragon jumped up on the
spider’s tank. Guido did not like talking up to the tank commander
and was not through giving him an earful. When the tank commander
finished, he addressed Guido. “You are a prisoner of war. We will
occupy all of New Memphis.”

By now, Spot had climbed up on to the turret
and was inches from the tank commander, growling. The dragon
clamped on to the tank commander’s shoulder and held it.

“Call Headquarters back,” said Guido. “Tell
them it is you who has been captured. If you don’t, Spot will tear
you apart.”

The tank commander stared into the eyes of
the monitor dragon, something very few have done and lived. “I
command a hundred tanks and support vehicles. If you kill me, you
will surely be killed, too.”

Guido gave Spot a hand signal. The dragon
began shaking the tank commander.

“Okay! Please!” screamed the tank commander.
He agreed to call Headquarters, and reported the problem at the
checkpoint. Then he handed the radio to Guido. “The Special Forces
Commander wants to talk to you.”

“Hello! This is Guido,” said Corporal
Tonelli. “You’re going to be in big trouble if you think you can
just barge into New Memphis without any consideration for how much
damage your tanks will cause.”

“Guido?” asked the Special Forces Commander.
“You are being invaded by overwhelming forces. Do you not
understand? Surrender at once!”

“Are you trying to start a war?” asked Guido.
“Because you are about this close.”

“Yes,” said the Special Forces Commander.
“And this is the first shot! You are dead.”

“You had better double check with your
Emperor on that,” said Guido. “I am not allowing these tanks to
enter New Memphis unless you post a thirty million dollar damage
deposit.”

“What?” said the Special Forces Commander.
“That is outrageous.”

“Twenty-five million dollars is as low as I
can go,” said Guido. “I doubt any of your tankers even have a
driver’s license. And you will have to take the treads off the
tanks and replace them with tires. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” said the Special Forces Commander.
“But we will have to truck the tires in.”

“You do that!” said Guido. “I am texting an
account number for the transfer of funds for the damage deposit. No
one goes anywhere until that is done.”

“I want some of that money, too,” said
Corporal Williams, waving his card.

“Shut up,” ordered Guido. Then he called
Legion Headquarters on the phone. “Where is that air support I was
promised?”

“Sorry,” I said. “We have nothing. The ‘Air
Farce’ is busy with insurgents on the other side of the planet.
General Kalipetsis says we are on our own. I have maybe one
helicopter, but I can’t risk losing it to SAMs.”

“The spiders say they will agree to joint
control of New Memphis,” said Guido. “And they are willing to post
a damage deposit.”

“I am getting word of that here, too,” I
said, checking faxes and text messages. “Let them through.”

“Major Czerinski says you may pass,” said
Guido, lifting the gate. “Show me the money.”

“The transfer is done,” said the tank
commander, handing Guido his card. “Our Special Forces Commander
contacted the Emperor. His Majesty landed on New Colorado to take
charge personally. The Emperor said his original orders were to
occupy New Memphis, not start a war. You were right.”

“Spot! Let go of that spider,” ordered Guido.
“You may pass when your tires arrive. Travel in groups of no more
than five tanks so you will not block traffic. Obey all traffic
lights and stop signs. Go the speed limit for trucks. Do not run
over parked cars. And make sure you do not double park!”

* * * * *

The column of Arthropodan marine tanks drove
down Elvis Street through the center of New Memphis. Both human and
spider civilians waved enthusiastically. Most of the humans waved
with the one-fingered salute. The spider marines waved back. Face
to face contact with the public and the spider marines was mostly
civil. Some anti-spider graffiti appeared on walls. ‘Spiders go
home’ was the main theme. A sign in the parking lot of the
Longshoreman Tavern stated, “No tanks allowed. Violators will be
towed at owner’s expense.”

Legion tanks shadowed the spider tanks to
make sure civilians were not abused. For the most part, the spider
marines were polite and well disciplined. The arrival of
Arthropodan Intelligentsia State Security Police investigators did
not go so smoothly. Accustomed to instant obedience and no
back-talk on Arthropoda, the Intelligentsia often got upset by rude
comments and a lack of cooperation. The Intelligentsia were
demanding and threatening, and it did not go over well in New
Memphis. Also, their black uniforms were reminiscent of old Nazi
war movies. They certainly spoke and acted like Nazis.

The Intelligentsia were going house to house,
looking for Mafia conspirators. They were getting frustrated by the
lack of success and cooperation. Humans and Americanized spiders
did not like being pushed around and searched by the Gestapo, and
they were open in their hostility.

Two Intelligentsia officers entered the
Longshoreman Tavern, following up on a tip given to them by the
Legion that Louis Gotti and his associates frequented the dive. The
Intelligentsia did not think to bring backup officers because they
had never needed help before. Intelligentsia’s orders were the law,
and were never questioned –at least not back on Arthropoda.

“Attention everyone!” announced the ranking
Intelligentsia officer. “Has anyone seen the fugitive Louis Gotti?
I know Gotti and his gang have been here.”

The Intelligentsia officers looked about,
expecting someone to step forward, but were met only with silence.
They saw a couple spiders sitting at the bar and approached, hoping
for a better response.

“You! Have you seen Louis Gotti?” asked the
Intelligentsia officer.

“Yeah I have,” answered a young spider. He
wore a Hell’s Angels vest and spoke English. “Gotti was in here a
couple hours ago, punking your mother.”

“My mother has never been to New Colorado,”
replied the Intelligentsia officer. The crowd laughed loudly and
pressed in to get a better look at the confrontation they knew was
coming. The Intelligentsia officer checked his translation device
to make sure it was operating correctly. “What is so funny?”

“I am laughing at the thought of you flying
through that plate glass window and landing hard on you ass in the
parking lot,” threatened the Hell’s Angels spider.

“I have no intention of flying anywhere,”
said the Intelligentsia officer. “I certainly will not fly through
a window. Why do you dress and speak like the human pestilence?
Have you no pride? What is this Hell’s Angels you wear on your
clothes?”

“I was born here,” said the spider. “I dress
like this because I want to. It’s called freedom. I will dress as I
please, you fascist pig.”

The Intelligentsia officer drew his pistol.
Tiny, who had been standing behind the Intelligentsia officer,
picked the cop up over his head and threw him through the plate
glass window. The crowd grabbed the other Intelligentsia officer
and tossed him through the window, too.

About an hour later, the two Intelligentsia
officers limped back to the tavern with marine tanks in tow. The
crowd scattered at the sound of the tanks crunching cars and
motorcycles in the parking lot. The spider tanks fired cannon
shells into the Longshoreman Tavern, destroying the building.
Legion tanks, who had been shadowing the spiders, immediately fired
missiles at the spider tanks. All three Arthropodan marine tanks
caught fire and were abandoned. Drunk bar patrons and Hell’s Angels
danced in celebration on the turrets.

Radio distress calls went out from both
sides. Legionnaires and Arthropodan marines, both eating at the
same Dunkin’ Donuts across from the Sheriff’s Office, received the
call at the same time. It was a race to see who could get to their
tanks first. The tanks circled Dunkin’ Donuts, using the building
for cover, trying to get a clear shot. Finally both sides opened
fire at once, destroying Dunkin’ Donuts in the process. Air support
was requested by both sides, but shoulder-fired SAMs kept
helicopter gunships at bay.

The Sheriff’s Office withdrew its deputies to
the County Building. When that happened, the civilians rioted. Kids
threw Molotov cocktails from rooftops at spider tanks. Soon whole
blocks of downtown New Memphis were on fire. Human and spider
civilians, watching the riot on TV, ran out of their homes and
looted liquor stores, grocery stores, and Radio Shack.

The Special Forces Commander, viewing live
video of the battle and riot, called me on the phone. We agreed to
separate our forces, dividing New Memphis. The spider marines got
downtown, and the Legion got the port. Both sides agreed to rebuild
Dunkin’ Donuts as soon as possible and allow joint access. The
Hell’s Angels rebuilt the Longshoreman tavern, changing the name to
the Outlaw Tavern.

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Contents

Chapter 10

When the Emperor arrived, he immediately
toured Downtown New Memphis. He was upset about the damage and
ordered the downtown area rebuilt. Also, the Emperor brought his
son.

“I heard there is a job opening for the
position of mayor,” said the Emperor. “I am appointing you Mayor of
New Memphis. The administrative experience you gain will do you a
world of good and will pad your résumé.”

“I do not want to be mayor,” replied the
Prince, annoyed. “You are the Emperor. Make me a general and let me
conquer the rest of New Colorado.”

“The exuberance of youth,” said the Emperor
with a sigh. “Humor me. Do a good job as mayor, and maybe later, if
you are still interested in a military career, I will appoint you
as second lieutenant.”

“Second lieutenant? What good is it to have
the Emperor as my father if second lieutenant is the best you can
do for me?”

“Experience will help you do a better job in
whatever career field you choose,” said the Emperor. “There is no
point being appointed as a general if you do a poor job because you
don’t have a clue.”

“I might as well stay in school rather than
endure the slow torture of this boring place,” complained the
Prince.”

“I am determined not to let schooling
interfere with your education,” advised the Emperor. “Now is a
great time to be on New Colorado. Think of it as an adventure and a
learning opportunity.”

As the royals crossed the street to get some
coffee at what was left of Dunkin’ Donuts, about a hundred Hell’s
Angels rolled by. Each biker waved as they rode past. The Prince
returned their one-fingered salutes with his own finger-extended
wave.

“Who are they?” asked the Prince. “That was
so cool.”

“Their jackets say Hell’s Angels,” said the
Emperor, checking his translation device. “I think they are another
human pestilence religious cult.”

“Are they Mormons?” asked the Prince. “I read
about the Mormons in my Earth history studies.”

“Maybe,” said the Emperor. “It is hard to
keep track of all the many human pestilence religions.”

“I noticed a lot of spiders with them,”
commented the Prince. “That shows progress toward inter-species
harmony and goodwill. I will need that to govern a mixed species
city like New Memphis.”

“See,” said the Emperor, proudly. “You are
learning important lessons already.”

“So why did the human pestilence get the
port, and all we got was the burned-out downtown area and a wrecked
donut shop?” asked the Prince.

“We got City Hall and the Sheriff’s Office,”
said the Emperor. “Have patience. Soon we will have it all as we
establish our authority.”

A lone biker left the Hell’s Angels formation
and doubled back to see the royals close up and personal. The biker
was a beautiful female spider. Her body paint displayed the colors
of the rainbow. She had extensive body piercing. Bells and charms
chimed softly in the breeze.

“Are you the Prince Charlie I saw on Cable
TV?” she asked. “You looked hot on the tube, but baby you sizzle in
person!”

“My father is the Emperor,” said the Prince.
“I did not know my arrival was also being covered by the local
media.”

“Baby, can I have your autograph?” asked the
female biker, pulling out a Sharpie marker. “I can’t wait to see my
girlfriend’s reaction when she finds out I met Prince Charlie in
person.”

“Certainly,” said the Prince. “Do you have
some stationary I can write on?”

“Just put your tag on my chest,” said the
female spider, unbuttoning her vest. “Don’t be shy. Put it on me
next to my heart.”

“This is highly unusual,” replied the Prince,
embarrassed. “What is your name? I will write a comment next to my
signature.”

“My name is Rainbow,” said the biker babe. “I
want you to write, ‘You were awesome all last night. I love you.
Hugs and kisses, Prince Charlie.’”

“I will not write that,” said the Prince, as
he finished his signature. “I would not want to harm your
reputation.”