Being the local Legion commander entitled me to ten percent of profits, and I was determined to make ‘the happiest place in the galaxy’ an unqualified success. Legion headquarters was moved to Galactic Disneyland, located under the Spider Mountain ride, complete with dungeon to accommodate troublemakers, terrorists, and Democrats. Legionnaires manned the entry points. Bringing wholesome family resort entertainment, retail, and fine dining to the galaxy was a tough job, but someone had to do it. I still needed to figure out where to put my casino.
* * * * *
The Governor of the North Territory ordered the spider commander to issue a building permit allowing the human pestilence Galactic Disney to trespass into the Arthropodan Empire. Galactic Disney was to be part of a broad economic plan of joint Arthropodan and human pestilence businesses thriving along the DMZ. Spiders and human pestilence had equal access to Galactic Disney, and shared profits.
However, to the spider commander it seemed wrong. Spider hatchlings wore those ungodly ugly Mickey Mouse ears that legionnaires gave away free at the front gate. It was bad enough that youth listened to human pestilence rap music and wore droopy drawers, but now hatchlings donned the big ears of Old Earth vermin rats? It did not seem right.
Fear of cultural imperialism was an outdated concept, gone with the acceptance of Walmart and McDonald’s, skateboards, and Nike sportswear, but those big ears were wrong! Mickey Mouse and the other Old Earth invasive pests had to be stopped!
As the spider commander tossed his empty Starbucks coffee cup aside, he eyed the tarps covering construction atop Spider Mountain.
“Czerinski and the human pestilence are up to no good, as usual, and I will prove it!” shouted the spider commander, shaking his claw. “The human pestilence ‘Wonderful World’ will not be allowed to spread their toxic pixie dust. I will stop the Merry Mad Rodent and his Mickey Mouse Club forever!”
* * * * *
As construction neared completion, I invited my counterpart from across the DMZ to a courtesy ride on the Spider Mountain roller coaster. The spider commander seemed dubious, but with the media present, he had a hard time backing down. “Your amusing ride does not look safe,” he announced. “My new Military Intelligence officer will ride in my place. Examining human pestilence technology is his specialty.”
“We all do what is necessary for world peace and détente,” I added, smiling for the press. “And a bit of pre-opening publicity can’t hurt either.”
“Please sign this waiver of liability,” requested Major Lopez, my XO. “Don’t worry, it’s just a formality suggested by the lawyers. That, and Disney may want use the video for commercials. Even aliens love Galactic Disney. Right?”
“I’m not signing anything,” replied the Military Intelligence officer. “I heard about your human pestilence lawyers and their fine print.”
“Just do it!” ordered the spider commander, losing his patience. “This contraption can’t be any more dangerous than combat.”
The Military Intelligence officer grudgingly signed the waiver. Aides unpacked food and beverages for the spider commander. It was a festive atmosphere, and the spider commander invited the press to join him for a picnic.
“Usually we don’t allow food and beverage past the gates,” I advised. “We have many concession stands.”
“And risk being poisoned by Lopez and his CIA buddies?” scoffed the spider commander. “No way, José. Besides, I know of your theme park inflated pricing system. I will not be cheated by your human pestilence money-grubbing schemes!”
“Isn’t it ironic that one day,” interrupted Phil Coen of Channel Five World News Tonight, “you’re shooting at each other, and the next, you’re riding a roller coaster together as friends and allies at Galactic Disney?” He shot me a phony smile. “The Butcher of New Colorado on an amusement park ride with spiders. Who would have thought that possible?”
“I’m not getting on that thing,” I answered. “I’m afraid of heights.”
“Oh come on, Czerinski,” goaded Coen. “A mighty Hero of the Legion like you isn’t afraid of anything, are you? You’re not chicken? Are you?”
“Shut up, Coen, or I’ll strap your ass to the tracks.”
“We are broadcasting live to the galaxy,” admonished Coen. “How about you, Major Lopez? Are you braver than your commander.”
“Fuck you, bendaho.”
“Yes, Lopez is riding,” I corrected. “That’s an order. Think of all the votes you will get, Mr. Future VP.”
“You’re a punk,” advised Major Lopez, as he joined the line of spiders boarding the roller coaster. “If I die, I’ll get you for this!”
“Smile for the cameras.”
* * * * *
The roller coaster cars slowly trudged up Spider Mountain. At the top, they paused for the view, then raced down, doing an upside-down loop, splashing through water, and entering a dark tunnel. The press and visitors took photos as the cars raced by. Major Lopez waved back, giving me the one fingered salute. Thrilled spider marines fired their weapons in the air.
Leaving the tunnel, the cars jumped the tracks on a curve, spilling riders through the air. It was horrible. A total disaster. Not good.
Miraculously, some survived. Major Lopez and a few spiders were dumped into Peter Pan Lake, saved by the cushioning effect of the water. The spider Military Intelligence officer popped up next to Lopez. They both shared a moment of relief.
However, in keeping with the Peter Pan Neverland theme, the lake had been stocked with crocodiles. Just when it seemed safe to go back into the water – chomp! – the spider Military Intelligence officer was gone in a splash and death roll. Major Lopez climbed atop a floating car, shooting at any ripple in the water.
Talk about bad press!
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Chapter 2
The spiders’ reaction was immediate. Arthropodan jets screamed low overhead, bombing and strafing Spider Mountain, Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, and several crocs. Rockets arced up from the summit, downing several aircraft. Soon smoked rolled out from Spider Mountain as it caught fire like a big volcano. I put a pistol to the spider commander’s head. “Order the bombing to stop, or you will not survive the day!”
“Fine! I expect to be repatriated immediately.”
“You stay. You’re not shocked and awed enough yet.”
“Does this mean the grand opening of Galactic Disney will be delayed?” asked Phil Coen of Channel Five World News Tonight. “Keep filming! I want all of this!”
“This is just a minor bump in the road,” I advised, as Legion jets fired smart bombs at Spider Marine Headquarters in New Gobi City. “The free publicity may even help.”
“Stop bombing civilians!” demanded the spider commander. “Your provocations will not be tolerated!”
“Collateral damage is to be expected,” I advised as Legion jets began their bombing runs. “You shouldn’t have bombed Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. And the Forest Service is going to be real upset about those dead crocs.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” replied the spider commander, contritely. “Do you realize I have to get another Military Intelligence officer? Do you think Military Intelligence officers grow on trees?”
“Whatever.”
The Legion jets circled about, wagging their wings for their last flyby before heading south. The spider commander and I shook hands and claw on the new truce, pledging to make Galactic Disney the happiest place in the galaxy, pending neutral inspections of the inside of Spider Mountain.
* * * * *
I was right about the free publicity. On opening day, long lines formed on both sides of the DMZ. I increased Legion security at the gates to prevent cheapskate spiders from sneaking in discount food and drinks. The Grand opening was not without controversy. Phil Coen of Channel Five World News Tonight was on the story, in his usual confrontational style. “Colonel Czerinski, isn’t it true that unsuspecting guests and their families at Fantasyland expectin
g to meet Alice, ride a magic caterpillar following a white rabbit down a hole and through a doorknob, past Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, only to find themselves dumped in your casino to be greeted by topless showgirl Alices and a drunk Mickey Mouse? What kind of wholesome entertainment is that? Walt Disney would turn in his grave knowing such debauchery was allowed in Galactic Disney.”
“Welcome to the magic,” I retorted. “I have it on good authority that Walt was consulted, and approves of my casino.”
“Walt Disney?”
“No, the other Walt. What difference does it make? The topless Alices are very popular, and the Cheshire Kat Casino is one of the most popular Galactic Disney rides. I’m just providing what the public wants.”
“I don’t know who this other Walt is, but he’s a pervert. I suspect you are dealing drugs, too.”
“What is your point?” I asked, exasperated. “All rumors about magic pixie dust are untrue. Pixie dust can’t get a fly high. Galactic Disney is a delicate balance of government working with private investors, human and alien culture, and galactic diplomacy. We already had one war here, so don’t be rocking the boat.”
“What about reports that organized crime has infiltrated Galactic Disney?”
“The Mafia?” I asked, shocked at such rumor-mongering. “That’s nonsense. The Mafia never got past Mars.”
“What is the Yab Yum Club?” asked Coen, checking a list.
“Yab Yum is a spider enterprise,” I answered, angrily. “I have nothing to do with the Yab Yum. That bastard spider commander owns a monopoly on Yab Yums.”
“But what is Yab Yum?” pressed Coen. “What are you hiding?”
“I told you, it’s run by the spiders. I haven’t even been to the Yab Yum yet. Try to say ‘Yum Yab yet’ three times real fast. It can’t be done.”
“My sources say the Yab Yum Club is a brothel. I intend to investigate the matter with a film crew.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you. That part of Galactic Disney is under Arthropodan jurisdiction. If you get arrested, there is no bail for human pestilence.”
“This is outrageous! How did the spiders get a business license to run a brothel at Galactic Disney?”
“I agree totally. The spiders refused to pay me the business license fee and set up shop all on their own. The girls aren’t even Teamsters. Claim to be independent contractors, or some such rubbish. I’ll have you know we run a proper closed shop for all Galactic Disney employees.”
“When I am through investigating your malfeasance, I’ll have you relieved of command. It is a disgrace in the first place that the Butcher of New Colorado manages Galactic Disney. You have betrayed the public trust at every level.”
“Now see here, Coen. I get enough bad press without you rabble-rousing. Causing problems for me is one thing, but you will not be allowed to cause bad press for Galactic Disney.”
“Freedom of the press is an important check and balance on people like you.”
“That does it! You are under arrest for being an undesirable at Galactic Disney. You will be the first to visit our new dungeon. I hope you get tortured.”
“What? Tortured? You can’t do this. I have constitutional rights!”
“I hope Mickey Mouse chews your testicles off,” I said dismissively, as legionnaires pounced on Coen. “Everyone is a jailhouse lawyer. You should read up on colonial law.”
“How dare you! I am a personal friend of President Miller! I’ll have your job!”
“That’s not going to help,” advised Major Lopez, supervising legionnaires thumping Coen. “Stretch Coen on the rack until he admits to being a Democrat!”
AGFL Book 16: Galactic Disney, coming soon!
###
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~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Walter Knight played football on Tucson High School’s last state championship team (1971). He served three years in the army, and the GI Bill paid for his college education, helping him earn degrees from Fort Steilacoom Community College, Central Washington State College, and the University of Puget Sound School of Law.
Walter lives a very quiet and private life, residing with his family and horses, dogs, cats, and fish atop a hill in rural Washington. Walt enjoys taking road trips to explore ghost towns and casinos.
To find out more about the author and his books, visit his web site.
www.waltknight.yolasite.com
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Lieutenant Columbus Page 12