Atm (9 page)

“
That’s not going to happen,” I whispered to Lopez. He nodded in agreement.

“
What was that, Czerinski?”

“
Nothing, sir.”

General Daly let out a customary belch to express polite appreciation of the fine meal.
Photographers zoomed in for close-ups of the general wiping his mustache with a napkin.
Fox News
ratings soared to all-time galactic highs as commentators and Democrats speculated about whether the pie was duck, chicken, or something more sinister. The public might never know.

Suddenly General Daly felt ill with stomach pains.
“Where’s the restroom?” he asked. “Your road-kill pie went right through me.”

“
Sir, there are no restrooms,” answered Major Lopez, handing the general a smooth rock. “You’ll have to go native. The spiders go out by the creek.”

“
That’s damned odd,” complained Daly, examining the smoothness of the rock. “What the hell?”

“
Keep it,” replied Lopez. “I have plenty.”

“
We recycle our rocks!” called out Stone-Claw as Daly dashed outside. “We practice green. Waste not, want not!”

* * * * *

After a month of debate and news commentary, several polls indicated that the American public was outraged at the alien abduction of
Channel Five World News Tonight
investigative reporter Phil Coen. After all, Coen was an American icon, and winner of two Geraldo Awards. It set a bad precedent, allowing those arachnids to abduct and probe the press with impunity. Something had to be done. Even Republicans in Congress conceded that America should file a formal protest with the Arthropodan ambassador.

As always, the Legion was tasked with cleaning up the politicians
’ mess when diplomacy failed. The spider commander denied Coen was in Imperial custody. He even presented a phony video as proof the Wild Ones abducted Coen.
What nerve.
Chief Stone-Claw claimed that on the day in question he was too drunk to remember much of anything. In fact, that whole week was a total blank, and he had alibis to prove it.

Despite unfair accusations of corruption and conflict of interest, General Daly ordered me to investigate Coen
’s abduction, confident I could overcome more bad press. Someone erased all security camera recordings of the abduction, a clear indication the Mafia was involved. The Black Hand’s fingerprints were all over the kidnapping. Somehow, the Mafia had got past Mars and worked its evil ways. General Daly ordered all known Mafiosos on New Colorado arrested for interrogation. Ha! Good luck with that.

Fortunately, not all wise guys were hard to fin
d. Jimmy the Neck, and his henchmen Johnny the Gut and Big Al Alfredo, picked this very weekend to go on holiday to the Roof of the World Casino Resort. Bad luck for them. I arrested all three.

“
Czerinski, long time no see! Is this how you treat your friends? I thought we had goodwill between us.”

“
What are you doing here?” I asked. “Did you come for Coen?”

“
Who is Coen?”

“
Trying to muscle in on my action?”

“
You’ve got me all wrong,” cried Jimmy the Neck, feigning hurt feelings. “I’ve diversified, gone corporate. I’m now a pimpesario for the Singh Mining Corporation.”

“
There’s no gold here,” I replied, shoving my jagged combat knife under Jimmy’s chin. “You better sing. What are you looking for?”

“
That’s for me to know, and you to not know.”

Major Lopez shot Alfredo in the kneecap.
Big Al writhed on the ground in pain.

“
Holy Mary, Mother of God!” exclaimed Jimmy the Neck, crossing himself. “Christ, Czerinski, keep your mad dog on a leash! I thought we had a history!”

“
Goodwill only goes so far,” I threatened. “This is business, and you’re trespassing in my territory. What treasure are you digging for? Spill it!”

“
There’s uranium under the casino. So much, I’m surprised you don’t glow in the dark.”

“
What? How would you know that?”

“
Besides being an astute businessman, I’m a geologist,” bragged Jimmy the Neck. “I know all about rocks and stuff.”

“
Liar!” shouted Major Lopez, slapping Jimmy. “You know nothing!”

“
It’s true!” he argued. “I graduated from Stanford University with a degree in nuclear engineering, and rocks. I know all the minerals on the Automatic Scale, and all about catatonic plates, anal fissures, icicles, and even thermodynamics. I know more about what’s buried in the ground under city cement than you ever dreamed, that’s for sure.”

“
Let me shoot him now,” suggested Lopez eagerly.

“
Are you really willing to let the spiders get their grubby little claws on all that U-92?” asked Jimmy the Neck. “That uranium is worth big bucks, and it’s ours for the taking.”

“
What about the Empire?” I asked. “Technically, we are inside the Autonomous Tribal District and the Empire’s zone of influence.”

“
You’re the big bad Legion. Make the spiders an offer they can’t refuse, or whack ’em. You’ve got plenty of nukes. I say whack ’em all!”

Chapter
14

The weather report prediction for that night was dark, so we attacked. Captain Patton led the way with his tanks, crashing through the glass casino doors. I followed with armored cars and infantry. General Daly set strict rules of engagement: Don’t kill any gamblers.
Fine.

The first tank crashed into slots and urinals, causing giant water spouts from the broken pipes.
The gunner fired his is cannon into the cashier’s cage, which doubled to conceal an Arthropodan marine command and control center. Also hit was an ATM. Gamblers dodged Legion armor as they chased elusive dollars swirling in the air.

A burst of 50
-cal machine gun fire took out the escalator and elevators. Die-hard gamblers stayed at their slots, convinced our attack was just another fire drill. Poker players knew better as glass and debris rained down from the ceiling, but kept a straight face. Some went all in. My armored car rolled over a cluster of blackjack tables, killing several known card counters. The carnage was recorded by helmet and casino security cameras. General Daly immediately contacted me by radio, not happy. I explained collateral damage was to be expected, and those punk card counters were cutting into my profits. It was the fog of war. Daly seemed pacified, but would be watching closely.

We took fire from atop the escalator.
Legionnaires flanked both sides as I lobbed grenades. As privates Kruger and Atm charged up the escalator, a grenade was tossed down. They turned sideways as the grenade loudly bounced past, clanking down each metal step, finally exploding at the bottom. Whew! Atm shot a spider at the top, securing the ninety-nine-cent buffet. They found Phil Coen hanging from a hook in cold storage.
Damn!
The fool was still alive.

* * * * *

“I want to press charges against Chief Stone-Claw and his whole Neanderthal spider tribe!” demanded Coen. “Czerinski, you caused this. It’s a conspiracy. I’ll have your job too!”

“
What do you say?” I asked.

“
About what?”

“
Go on, say it. Smile for my camera and say thank you to the Legion for saving your sorry ass – again.”

“
I won’t. You’re part of the conspiracy!”

“
Stop complaining. You should be happy. You’re doing an exclusive on your rescue. For the record, were you probed?”

“
It’s
my
interview,” snapped Coen, smiling his pearly whites for the camera. “I’ll ask the questions! No, I was not probed. What took you so long? It was a heralding experience, but I persevered, no thanks to Colonel Czerinski and his merry band of Mafia misfits. This whole casino project is rife with collusion and corruption.”

I turned off my helmet camera, motioning to Private Atm, who kicked Coen in the knee, dropping him to the floor.
That had to hurt. More collateral damage, bada bing, bada boom.

* * * * *

Legion armor surrounded Chief Stone-Claw’s executive mud hut. A spider of the masses, Stone-Claw lived modestly, shunning the perks of office, except for the satellite dishes and flat screen TVs, a brand new GE dishwasher, a Porsche parked in the mud garage, and some other stuff bought on eBay.

“
Surrender!” I shouted on the PA. “A state of war has been declared between the United States Galactic Federation and the Autonomous Tribal District. Resistance is futile!”

No answer.
A legion tank edged forward, flattening the garage. Stone-Claw’s fat wife finally met us at the front door. “The chief needs his sleep. He may not come out to play until at least noon.”

“
There’s a war on,” I repeated, my foot in the doorway like a vacuum salesman. “He has no choice.”

“
I don’t dare wake him up,” cried Mrs. Stone-Claw. “I’ll get bitch-slapped.”

“
Bitch-slapping is illegal in the USGF,” I advised, taking Mrs. Stone-Claw by the elbows and escorting her to my armored car. “It’s the law. It’s even in the Constitution somewhere in the human rights fine-print section.”

“
Only in America,” marveled Mrs. Stone-Claw, gazing lovingly at me with all eight eyes. “Sweep me off my feet.”

“
Not likely.”

Several tanks fired into the mud hut, reducing it to rubble.
Captain Patton plowed through a back wall to make sure.

“
You killed my husband!” shrieked Mrs. Stone-Claw. “And his second wife, da bitch! Now what will I do? Who will support me? Who will pay my credit cards? Do you think money just grows on trees?”

“
Second wife?” I asked, straining to see through the dust and smoke.
Damn.
“Don’t worry, ma’am. As a defeated nation, all Wild Ones are eligible for welfare and food stamps. It’s also the law.”

“
But Walmart doesn’t accept food stamps,” complained Mrs. Stone-Claw, stamping her feet. “Human pestilence speak with forked lips.”

“
I assure you, I am a personal friend of the regional Walmart manager, and he will accept your EBT Card.”

“
Oh, thank you so much, you cute little cuddly fur ball,” gushed the Widow Stone-Claw. “In America, money really does grow on trees! I cannot wait to cut down the forest.” She gave me a soft, come-hither look – as much as a spider could imitate soft and come-hither. “My rich American hero alien from across the stars!”

I stepped back.
“You’re the alien, not me.”

Mrs. Stone-Claw wrapped all eight arms and legs around me for an intimate hug, kissing
me on the lips. There was an awkward bad-breath yellow-fang moment before the surprise of her weight toppled me over. We rolled under my armored car as legionnaires discreetly looked away.

“
There he goes again,” commented Sergeant Green in disgust. “I swear, Czerinski will fuck any life form that moves.”

“
I will not!” I protested, struggling to get away. As I tried to lift myself up, I banged my head on the bottom of the armored car, sinking concussed back into the claws and fangs of alien passion. “Help me!”

“
Resistance is indeed futile,” cooed Mrs. Stone-Claw. “To the victor goes the spoils. Pillage me, human pestilence brute. It’s the law.”

The entire conquest of the Wild Ones was broadcast live on the Galactic Database,
Fox News
, the
Playboy Channel
, and
Spiders Gone Wild
. Ratings skyrocketed.

* * * * *

Chief Stone-Claw emerged from the dust and rubble of his tunnel bunker, coughing and hissing. His new fat bride, Mrs. Stone-Claw II, limped a respectful five paces behind. Someone was going to get bitch-slapped for this outrage, and she hoped it wasn’t her.

“
What is the meaning of your treachery?” asked Chief Stone-Claw, raising his claws in surrender. “We had a treaty! We shook hands and claws. You promised!”

“
I’m serving an eviction notice,” I advised, handing Stone-Claw the paperwork, nice and legal. “Get out. You and your Wild Ones are being shuttled to the North Pole.”

Stone-Claw turned to the spider commander for support.
“You’re good with this, betraying us to the human pestilence? How will we survive?”

“
Open another casino,” suggested the spider commander with genuine concern. “The Empire and humanity signed another treaty. You’re out.”

“
But we had a treaty. This isn’t legal!”

“
Suddenly every Wild One is a jailhouse lawyer,” scoffed the spider commander dismissively. “If you had bothered to read the fine print in your treaty, it very clearly states that any windfall discovery of precious minerals are forfeit to the Empire. It’s the law. This whole mountain is full of uranium, and the Emperor has ordered it bulldozed flat to mine it all.”

“
But that’s not fair!”

“
Life is not fair, and then you die. Never take any breath for granted. It is not the Empire’s fault you remained primitive savages, never even bothering to invent the wheel, while the rest of our species crossed the stars. Too bad, so sad. It’s polar bear stew and seal droppings for you!”

“
Soup Nazi!”

* * * * *

I escorted Chief Stone-Claw and his bubble-butt wives to the shuttle for their relocation to the moon. It was a sad moment for all. Mrs. Stone-Claw pressed her face and fangs to the small glass portal, waving a forlorn goodbye. I nodded once, before turning my back to the shuttle. She texted me a message declaring her love, hoping to kindle a long-distance relationship, or maybe even hot cyber sex, but to no avail. I tried to soften the blow of breakup, replying that I was miserable without her, almost like having her here. But, I soon flagged her pleas as phishing junk mail, deleted forever. I can be a cold-hearted bastard sometimes, I know. But, I’ll get over it.

Unable to overcome my many commitment issues, the rejected spider babe slumped in her seat, resigned to her fate on the moon.
The good news was that in the reduced gravity of the moon, she would weigh two-hundred-thirty pounds less. The bad, I lied about food stamp benefits. She gets nothing. It’s the law.

Chapter 15

War does not rest, except now, when it
’s over. But the paperwork continues. Reviewing camera recordings for my after-action reports, I noticed Private Atm light a small candle on the rubble of a burned-out ATM by the cashier cage.
How odd.
Surprises in combat are not unexpected, but why would he do that? The matter deserved more scrutiny. Medic Ceausescu was especially annoyed.

“
He cares more about that ATM than wounded legionnaires,” she groused. “What a jerk.”

“
Maybe he’s in debt and needs a loan,” I speculated, replaying the tape. “Or it could be post-traumatic stress syndrome. Keep an eye on Private Atm. Give him some drugs or something. I can’t have my driver going crazy.”

“
He should be shot for looting. See, he took something from that dead ATM!”

“
Just watch him!” I ordered, enlarging the video. “It’s not money he took. It’s something else. I’m assigning Atm to you. We need another medic anyway.”

“
Yes, sir.”

Major Lopez burst into the command center, clearly upset.
“There’s no uranium!”

“
What?”

“
You heard me. There’s no uranium. Engineers have confirmed it.”

“
Shoot Jimmy the Neck.”

“
I already did.”

“
Does this mean we have to give the casino back to the Wild Ones?” I asked, hoping to turn lemons into lemonade. I hated Lopez’s constant negativity. “Do the spiders know?”

“
They will soon.”

I called the spider commander on the phone.
“The United States Galactic Federation is prepared to buy your share of the mineral rights,” I announced. “Interested?”