America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion (5 page)

* * * * *

“What are they doing now?” asked Private
Krueger, as he watched the spiders across the fence digging up the
streets. “Are they digging more tunnels and bunkers?”

“Spiders live to dig,” advised Private
Camacho. “It’s in their DNA. They can’t resist the chance to dig,
like dogs digging for a bone.”

“I’ll ask them,” said Corporal Tonelli,
walking up to the spider guard shack. “Are you digging for gold?
There’s no gold this far north. Everyone knows that.”

“We are putting in cables for more Cable TV,”
replied the spider guard. “It’s much superior to your state
controlled Satellite TV.”

“But Cable TV is illegal,” announced Guido,
shocked and appalled. “I will have to report this!”

“I am so scared,” responded the spider guard.
“Cable provides so many more movies and new releases. It is
Satellite TV that should be illegal. Plus, we get the Disney
Channel.”

“Liar,” said Private Camacho. “You don’t get
the Disney Channel.”

“Who cares about cartoons?” asked Guido.
“Goofy is lame.”

“We get the Discovery Channel, too,” boasted
the spider guard.

“Satellite TV has the Discovery Channel,”
argued Guido. “And all the football and soccer you could ever
want.”

“Soccer is for pretty boys,” scoffed the
spider guard. “Our Fleet Commander ordered the cable put in as soon
as possible. He says your Satellite TV is contaminating our culture
and brainwashing our babies. And, he says your Fox News Network is
not fair and balanced.”

“That’s a lie!” shouted Guido.

“We have the Playboy Channel,” added Private
Krueger. “Do you?”

“No,” answered the spider guard. “Do you
really? I heard you have spiders on the Playboy channel, too.”

“Oh yeah,” said Private Krueger. “
The
Spiders Gone Wild
gets pretty kinky.”

“Can we come over and watch sometime?” asked
the spider guard.

“No,” said Guido. “You have to stay on your
side.”

“Record it for me,” requested the spider
guard.

“Okay,” said Private Krueger. “I can do
that.”

“Is the Fleet Commander trying to start
another war?” asked Guido. “You better tell them to stop that
digging right now.”

“It will not happen,” said the spider guard.
“The Fleet Commander does not want us watching human pestilence
TV.”

“Doesn’t the Fleet Commander know the Cable
Guy is a human, too?” asked Guido.

“Whatever,” said the spider guard. “No one
has ever proved that.”

Guido got on the radio and reported the
emergency to Lieutenant Lopez. “I warned them, and they refused to
stop digging,” advised Guido. “The Fleet Commander himself ordered
the installation of Cable TV throughout the spider zone.”

“Those bastards,” said Lieutenant Lopez.
“I’ll call in air strikes right away. Take cover.”

A Legion helicopter gunship appeared low on
the horizon and destroyed the backhoe, and was actively searching
for more targets when General Kalipetsis canceled the air strike,
saying that this latest provocation would be brought up first thing
during tomorrow’s negotiations. Lieutenant Lopez cursed all staff
officers for being weak-kneed pansies and appeasers. “The whole lot
should be replaced. Don’t they know half the North has been given
away already? And now they’re allowing the Cable Guy to run
rampant. Incompetents!” he fumed.

After the Helicopter gunship left, Guido
waved a white flag from his bunker at the spider guard shack. The
spider guard waved back. They all came out to discuss the
situation.

“Guido, what’s up with bombing us?” asked the
spider guard, shaking his claw. “I thought you were just kidding
about starting a war over Cable TV. Are you human pestilence crazy,
or what?”

“I got a call from Lieutenant Lopez,” said
Guido. “He says he is sorry about the wrecked backhoe.”

“Not as sorry as the backhoe operator,”
commented the spider guard. “Who is going to pay for all that
damage?”

“Lieutenant Lopez sends his apologies about
the air strike, and wants you to pass it along to your chain of
command,” said Guido.

“Sure,” said the spider guard, glancing down
the street at the damage and a small fire in one of the buildings.
“Next time I have lunch with the Fleet Commander, I will pass it on
that the human pestilence is real pissed about the Cable TV, but
you’re sorry you bombed us.”

“No hard feelings?” asked Guido.

“Is our poker game still on for tonight?”
asked the spider guard.

“You bet your ass it’s still on for tonight,”
said Private Camacho. “Bring all the money you can afford to
lose.”

“I have no hard feelings,” conceded the
spider guard. “As long as you have no hard feelings when me and my
crew take all your money!”

“Poker is a human game,” advised Private
Krueger. “No spider is going to take our money.”

“Human pestilence cannot play poker,” replied
the spider guard. “Your twitchy facial expressions give your hands
away so easily.”

“Just bring cash,” said Guido. “I don’t take
checks, credit cards, or American Express.”

“Hey, Guido,” said the spider guard. “What
can you tell me about the Mafia, or the Black Hand?”

“What?” asked Guido. “Just because I’m
Italian, you think I’m connected? That I’m a wise guy?”

“Spare me the innocence routine. I do not
know anything about you Italians or wise guys. My team leader told
me to ask you human pestilence about the Mafia. Well? What do you
know about the Mafia?”

“The Mafia is a myth,” said Guido. “It’s
nothing but an urban legend. It doesn’t exist. The Mafia is
supposed to be an organized crime syndicate, but there is no such
thing as organized crime. Maybe there used to be, but the Mafia
never got past Mars. The Legion threw them all out an airlock.”

“And the Black Hand?” asked the spider guard.
“What is that all about?”

“A black hand painted on a wall is just a
warning,” said Guido. “Its intent is to intimidate.”

“Those gamblers I saw getting out of the
black limousine,” said the spider guard. “Aren’t they Mafia?”

“No,” said Guido. “I told you. There is no
such thing as the Mafia.”

“Are you sure?” asked the spider guard. “They
looked like thugs. And they seemed organized.”

“Put it this way,” said Guido, in a lowered
voice. “If those gamblers were Mafia, it would not be healthy for
you and me to be having this conversation. It would be wise for you
to shut your mouth and not be going around asking questions that
could get you killed.”

“I see,” said the spider guard. “One last
question. I am not saying that the Mafia exists, but, if the Mafia
did exist, would it operate on Arthropoda, too?”

“Yes,” said Guido. “There has been smuggling
and business conducted between our worlds a long time before a
colony was established on New Colorado. Do you think humans have a
monopoly on criminal activity?”

“I see,” said the spider guard. “Thank you
for the insight. I will see you at the poker game.”

* * * * *

The spider team leader and his commandos
easily crossed the fence into the human pestilence zone. The team’s
mission was to find two GPS transmitters. The first transmitter had
been found in the belly of a wolf. The second transmitter had been
traced to a civilian truck repair shop in the human zone.

When the commandos broke into the shop, they
found the missing survey truck. The team leader was disappointed at
not finding the missing survey team. He was enraged when he found
the truck riddled with large caliber bullet holes, and its cab
splattered with blood. The team leader took photographs, then set a
large explosive charge inside the truck. A timer would detonate the
bomb at dawn. Hopefully, human pestilence culprits arriving for
work in the morning would be killed by the blast.

* * * * *

Poker night happened on Saturday once a month
in a large Legion tent located directly on the dividing line
between the spider and human zones. Officers were not invited,
especially human officers, all of whom were rumored to possess
mind-reading technology. Poker players are such a paranoid lot to
think such rumors could be true.

Both sides brought lots of alcohol. The
public was invited, and oil workers, miners, and civilians of all
sorts attracted by the loud music crowded the tent. Legionnaires
were flush with cash, and spiders were eager to recoup their losses
from the dragon fight wager.

By midnight, most of the spiders were
winning, and most of the humans were losing. An exception was
Private Camacho, who had a stack of money in front of him.
Unfortunately for Private Camacho, spiders had better eyesight than
humans. With at least eight eyes, a spider could see slight-of-hand
card manipulation even when it appeared he was not paying
attention. Private Camacho was caught dealing an ace to himself
from the bottom of the deck.

“He cheats!” hissed a spider marine. The
marine stabbed the ace with his combat knife and held it up for all
to see. “How shall we kill him? I vote for slow and painful.”

“I swear I wasn’t cheating!” responded
Private Camacho, looking about for help. “Sergeant Green! Help me!
These spiders have gone crazy!”

Sergeant Green threw down his cards and
tromped over to Camacho’s table. “Captain Czerinski will be upset
if you kill him,” advised Sergeant Green. “Personally, I think the
Legion would be better off if you gutted him here and now. But,
just string Camacho up and let him hang for the rest of the night
from a tent pole. Divide up his money between the other players at
the table.”

The spider with the knife nodded his
agreement and happily raked in the money. Two other spider marines
quickly spun a cocoon around Private Camacho and hung him upside
down from the roof of the tent. The game resumed as if nothing had
ever happened.

Private Krueger staggered over to Camacho. “I
told you not to cheat at a spider poker game,” snickered Private
Krueger. “You want a beer?”

“I can’t drink beer upside down,” complained
Private Camacho. “Man, this is messed up. Cut me down from
here!”

“I can’t do it,” replied Private Krueger. “I
can sympathize with you. I’ve been there, done that, and do not
want to join you.”

“Fine,” said Private Camacho. “Give me the
Cerveza. Maybe it won’t be so bad if I’m drunk.”

“It will be worse if you get drunk and puke,”
advised Private Krueger, as he handed Camacho his beer.

Across the tent, a fight broke out. A spider
marine made the mistake of calling Private Wayne a traitor. The
spider legionnaire came up from the poker table brandishing a
jagged combat knife in each hand. The other spider drew a knife,
too. The spiders circled, occasionally feinting with their knives,
trying to position themselves for an advantage. Sergeant Green
ordered the two spiders to break it up, but was ignored. The knives
whipped out in a blur of movement. When the two spiders stepped
apart, the Arthropodan marine was missing his claw. That ended the
fight. Private Wayne sat back down to his cards, and the spider
marine folded his hand and left.

Private Krueger staggered over to Corporal
Ceausescu and told her she had beautiful blue eyes. The medic told
him to get lost. Then Private Krueger gulped down his vodka, and
told one of the spider females she had beautiful red eyes. They
left together, walking arm in arms, hand in claw.

Guido lost all his money. He stepped outside
for some fresh air. The dragon handler from the fight was standing
at the doorway, smoking a marijuana cigarette.

“Those are illegal,” advised Guido. “Can I
have a hit?”

“Being arrested for pot is the least of my
worries,” commented the spider marine, passing his joint to Guido.
“The State Intelligentsia arrested me this morning. They wanted to
know if the dragon fight was fixed.”

“What did you tell them?” asked Guido, taking
another hit off the cigarette.

“I told them to go have sex with themselves
in unnatural ways,” said the spider marine. “Then they tied me to a
chair and injected me with truth drugs. They interrogated me all
morning. I do not know what I told them. I assume I told them
everything.”

“That is not good,” said Guido. “If I was
you, I would take your money and immigrate to the human zone.
Retire to a nice warm beach and drink margaritas all day.”

“I just might do that,” said the spider
marine. “You might think of doing the same.”

“I can’t,” said Guido. “Desertion is a
capital offense. The Legion would hunt me down.”

“Whatever,” said the spider marine, as he
went back inside the tent.

* * * * *

During the early morning hours, Lieutenant
Lopez and I did a walk-through at the poker game to see how things
were going. The music stopped. All eyes were on us. The poker
players stopped playing and put their cards face down on the
tables. Someone played an old Earth song on the stereo: ‘Secret
Agent Man.’ I cut Private Camacho down and took him into protective
custody. When we left, the party and music resumed.

“How does it feel to be a cop?” asked
Lieutenant Lopez.

“Shut up, Lopez,” I said. “Not another word.
When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

“Policia!”

* * * * *

At dawn the poker game was ended by a large
explosion in the human zone. Alerts went out to team leaders and
sergeants, who gathered their soldiers and departed the poker party
to man their positions along the Camp Alaska dividing fence.
Soldiers on both sides cursed officers who would call an alert on
Sunday morning.

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