America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion (20 page)

“I spent some of it,” commented the team
leader, handing Guido his card. “I bought real estate on the river
in Finisterra. I am building a new hotel casino. You could be my
partner.”

“You spent my money on worthless land in
Finisterra?” asked Guido, drawing his pistol. “It’s too radioactive
in Finisterra. Everything there glows in the dark. The last time I
was there, my hair fell out.”

“It is being cleaned up,” said the desperate
team leader. “I also bought land in Battle Creek. I bought the
entire strip along the border. It is a perfect location for
casinos, warehouses, drug distribution, brothels, auto sales, and
pizza parlors. So, do we have a deal? Are we partners?”

“You bought land with my money,” said Guido.
“That means we are already partners. I’ll make you a deal you can’t
refuse. The biggest cut belongs to me.”

“Anything you say, Guido,” said the team
leader. “But only because you are my friend.”

“Yeah right,” said Guido, as he led the team
leader outside. Guido escorted the team leader across the border
before taking the others to New Disneyland. “I’ll be contacting you
later. I expect a nice return on my investment.”

“It will be easy money,” promised the team
leader. “This planet is ripe for the picking.”

“If you are so smart, how come you let a dork
like Sergeant Nesbit catch you?” asked Guido. “Why were you
sneaking across the border, anyway?”

“We were up to no good,” admitted the team
leader, as he crossed through the border gate. “You be careful.
Trouble might be coming.”

When Guido and Williams returned to the bus
without the team leader, everyone was silent. The commandos assumed
the worst. Even the legionnaires present said nothing. Brooding
most of the way, the Military Intelligence Officer vowed revenge.
But first, he needed to make sure. “Where is my team leader?” he
asked. “What did you do to him?”

“I told you,” answered Guido, smirking. “I
shot him.”

“Do you want to be next?” asked Corporal
Williams, snickering, but trying to keep a straight face.

“All atrocities have witnesses,” said the
Military Intelligence Officer, rising to his feet. “Your name and
ugly face will be remembered.”

“Back into your seat!” ordered Guido as he
shoved the spider. “Are you going to be a troublemaker?”

The Military Intelligence Officer slipped his
claw out of his shackles and struck Guido alongside his helmet,
knocking him to the bus floor. As the spider raised his foot to
stomp Guido, Corporal Williams hit the officer in the chest with a
rifle stock. The Military Intelligence Officer collapsed backwards
between the seats. He went into a seizure, arms and claw thrashing
violently. When the convulsions abruptly ended, the spider lay
still for about a minute before anyone attended him. The bus driver
pulled over to the side of the road.

“He is dead?” asked one of the commandos, now
checking for a pulse. “You murdered him, too.”

“I didn’t murder anyone,” said Guido. “That
was self-defense.”

“He is still in chains,” said the spider.
“And, you shot our team leader!”

“I didn’t shoot anyone,” said Guido, but no
one was listening. After some shouting and pushing, the prisoners
finally settled down. The bus started up and continued on its
journey. Guido seat-belted the corpse securely.

“Have you no respect for the dead?” said the
spider next to the corpse. “This is unacceptable.”

“Tough,” said Corporal Williams. “He can be
buried at New Disneyland after the coroner checks him.”

“He is losing body fluids,” complained the
spider commando. “Let us give our commanding officer a proper
burial now.”

“He’s beginning to stink,” complained the bus
driver.”

The corpse had a nasty smelling bowel
movement. The spider next to the corpse jumped up and vomited green
and yellow chunky fluid out across the aisle. Vomit splattered onto
Guido’s boots. Corporal Williams, a sympathetic vomiter, threw up,
too. Guido ordered the bus driver to pull over, and they carried
the corpse off the bus.

Commandos dug a shallow grave, said a few
words, and buried their comrade. Not a word was uttered by anyone
for the rest of the trip. The spiders just gave Guido and Williams
their best ‘mad dog’ stares until they arrived at New
Disneyland.

* * * * *

A claw pushed through the soft dirt to the
fresh air above. It looked like something from a zombie movie, or
an ancient
Buffy
rerun. The Military Intelligence Officer
wiped wet dirt from his face as he emerged from his shallow grave.
It would be a long march back to the North Territory. Now he would
see to it that the human pestilence would pay dearly for their
atrocities.

A lone wolf scout howled on the next hill. He
was on the scent of prey. The Intelligence Officer briskly walked
north. “I would give a year’s pay for a rifle,” he grumbled. The
wolf seemed to be getting closer. Then he heard the rumble of
engines. Fearing legionnaires, he was about to dash into the
forest. But, it was just motorcycles. It was a large group of
motorcycle enthusiasts. They were a rough looking bunch of both
humans and spiders. He felt surrounded. Suddenly fighting off
wolves seemed appealing.

“Did your car break down?” asked a human
female biker. “What are you doing way out here in the middle of
nowhere by yourself?”

“I am communing with nature,” replied the
Military Intelligence Officer. “I like being by myself.”

“You will be communing with wolves if you
stay out here,” advised the human female. “Do you need a ride? You
can ride bitch with me.”

“Yes. Thank you,” said the Military
Intelligence Officer. “You are very kind.”

The Military Intelligence Officer wrapped his
four arms around the female human. Not being familiar with human
customs and taboos, he put his hands and claw on all the wrong
places The female human immediately gave him a sharp elbow to his
mid section. “Yo, Mr. Hands!” she yelled. “Don’t be groping me! We
just met. I don’t even know your name!”

“I am sorry,” said the Military Intelligence
Officer. “I thought it appropriate to hang onto whatever appendages
were available.”

“You thought? That was your first mistake,”
said the human female. “I’ll decide what is available and
appropriate.”

“I apologize,” said the Military Intelligence
Officer. “My bad.”

“What is your name?” asked human female.

“I do not have a name,” said the Military
Intelligence Officer. “I have only my rank.”

“Rank? I’ll call you Hands,” said the human
female. “My name is Amber. I’m Amber because I’m always
red-hot.”

“Yes, you are a very warm-blooded human
pestilence,” said Hands, as he held onto her again. “Is this
better?”

“No!” said Amber, slapping his appendages
away. “Get your hands off my breasts.”

“I think he likes you,” commented another
female biker, a spider. She had been listening intently to her
friend’s conversation. “If you do not want him, I will take the big
boy off your hands.” The spider female reached out and caressed
Hands’ backside.

“Get back on your bike!” said Amber. “I saw
him first.”

“My name is Black Widow,” said the female
spider. She opened her vest, revealing a large red hourglass
painted on her exoskeleton chest. “Do you think my tat is
pretty?”

“You are very beautiful,” said Hands. “You
remind me of Queen Rainbow.”

“Do you know Rainbow?” asked Amber,
excitedly. “Rainbow is one of our sisters!”

“That makes you princesses,” said Hands. “You
are beautiful princesses, indeed.”

“That is so sweet,” said Amber. “Do you
really think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes,” said Hands. “You have an exotic beauty
to you.”

“Do you want me?” asked Amber. “I am
available now.”

“What?” asked Hands, tapping his translation
device.
This piece of junk needs adjustment,
he thought.

“You said I am beautiful,” said Amber. “What
do you find attractive about me?”

“Your long, flowing, purple hair is very
attractive,” said Hands. “And the mythical beast you have tattooed
on your arm is very charming.”

“That is not mythical,” said Amber. “It’s a
scorpion. They’re real.”

“Well, it looks very hot on you,” said Hands,
hoping he was getting a grasp of proper human pestilence slang.
“And you carry yourself very proudly. I like that.”

“Why are you covered in dirt?” asked Amber.
“You look like someone buried you alive.”

“I buried myself trying to keep warm in the
forest,” said Hands. “It is an old survival trick. It must have
worked. I am alive.”

Amber shrugged. “I’ve had filthier riders,”
she said. “But when we get to Battle Creek, I am giving you a bath.
You do take baths?”

I am very much looking forward to a hot
bath,” said Hands. “I must look disreputable.”

“I do not think he quite understands you,”
said Black Widow. “He thinks he will be bathing by himself.”

“Not likely,” said Amber. “This big guy is a
keeper.”

“What do you mean keeper?” asked Hands, now
feeling uncomfortable. He was used to brushing off pushy spider
females, but this human female took him by surprise. And, she
seemed dangerous. Amber carried several knifes, and at least one
gun. He had misunderstood her intentions until now.
What to
do,
he thought.

“I think he is a virgin,” said Black Widow.
“Oh my.”

“Nonsense,” said Hands. “I have had lots of
conquests.”

“Not with humans,” said Black Widow.

“It’s not that unusual,” said Amber,
shrugging as they started their bikes. The Hell’s Angels waited as
a Legion convoy went by. Human and spider legionnaires waved and
shouted approvingly at the biker babes as they went by.

“Why are you riding to Battle Creek?” asked
Hands. “There is nothing much there.”

“We are delivering drugs to the border,” said
Amber. She reached into a pouch and popped a pill. “Want one? It
will give you an entirely new outlook on the day.”

“Are those mind-altering drugs?” asked
Hands.

“I hope so,” said Amber, still offering a
pill. “These pills are worth a lot of money.”

“No thank you,” said Hands. “I need a clear
head. Do you not realize the misery that results from drug-dealing?
Drugs cause brain damage.”

“My homes have been nuked three times,” said
Amber. “I can handle the danger. If others can’t, that’s their
problem.” The motorcycle lurched out onto the roadway. “Hold on
tight! Grope me if you want!”

Hands held on tight as the bikers hit the
road. When they passed the Legion convoy, he even joined in and
gave them the one-fingered salute.

Return to Table of
Contents

Chapter 16

I met General Kalipetsis in a conference room
just prior to another round of negotiations with the new Governor.
The captured Dachshund was at my side.

“You brought a wiener dog to important
negotiations?” asked General Kalipetsis. “It might have fleas. I
really don’t need the distraction.”

Sampson growled at the general, pulling at
his leash and snapping.

“This dog represents the spoils of war,” I
said. “It was captured with those spies we caught last week at the
border crossing. I am giving you the Dachshund as a gift.”

“Nonsense,” said General Kalipetsis. “I can’t
be seen walking a stupid little wiener dog like that. I have a
reputation and image to maintain. I see a bright career in politics
in my future.”

“General Patton, the greatest American
general ever, had a little mutt that followed him around
everywhere. There was nothing wrong with Patton’s reputation.”

“General Patton?” asked a surprised General
Kalipetsis, now checking the database. “By God, you’re right. He
had a bull terrier named Willie – William the Conqueror. And Willie
even had his own set of dog tags.”

“I guarantee the Governor will be extremely
irritated when he sees Sampson,” I said. “He knows the Dachshund
was with the spies.”

“It will be worth it just to upset the
Governor,” commented General Kalipetsis, taking Sampson by the
leash. “I like the name Sampson. It sounds strong and biblical. Get
Sampson his own set of dog tags, too,” General Kalipetsis ordered.
“Come on, wiener dog, lets go meet the enemy.”

Sampson continued to be upset, barking and
snarling until they were seated at the negotiations conference
table. The Governor noticed the Dachshund. His mandibles twitched
as he made an entry on his note tablet.

“I have five demands that are not
negotiable,” announced the Governor, reading from a list. “One, the
Legion recently kidnapped twenty humanitarian aid workers at a
border crossing right here in Battle Creek. These missionaries are
to be released immediately. Two, I want face-to-face interviews
with all Arthropodan citizens still detained at the New Disneyland
Prison. Three, I want permanent observers in place in New
Disneyland to guarantee that spiders with duel citizenship are not
abused. Four, I demand open elections to determine when New
Disneyland will be brought back into the Empire. And five, I demand
that little wiener dog be returned immediately. He is the property
of the Arthropodan military.”

The Dachshund lunged at the Governor,
attempting to chew an ankle.

“I am informed that Sampson does not like
being called ‘little’ or a ‘wiener dog,’” I advised. “You obviously
are insensitive and would make a poor Dachshund owner. Repatriation
of the dog is not negotiable, for fear of abuse.”

“That canine is valuable, highly trained
Imperial property,” said the Governor, getting out of his chair and
leaning forward. “You will release him at once!”