America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 4: Demilitarized Zone

by Walter Knight

  “Czerinski? That asshole?” asked Corporal Williams. “Don’t worry about Czerinski. With just a phone call I’ll transfer Czerinski to guard duty at the South Pole. He’ll be counting penguins all day. Can we go home now?”

  “Ambassador Williams, you are my kind of diplomat,” replied the spider commander. “If you had been sent here a long time ago, we could have avoided all this trouble from the start.”

  “Call me Your Excellency,” insisted Corporal Williams.

  “I sincerely believe we can do business, Your Excellency,” said the spider commander. “Can I count on you as a friend? You would be my first human pestilence friend.”

  “All this talk of doing business reminds me,” said Corporal Williams. “You are manufacturing moonshine and selling it to the Angry Onion Tavern at too high a price. If you want to continue your monopoly, you will have to be more reasonable about what you charge.”

  “I see you have been well briefed on local issues,” replied the spider commander, turning to the TV camera and putting a claw over the lens. “I want that edited out! We are not broadcasting live are we?”

  “Of course we are,” replied the camera spider. “You ordered this be broadcast live, planet-wide.”

  “Well?” asked Corporal Williams. “Are you willing to be reasonable? If we expect others to find common ground, we must be willing to do the same in our personal dealings.”

  “Your Excellency, you are a hard bargainer,” groused the spider commander. “Fine! I will lower prices.”

  “And, we need the New Mississippi River stocked with more catfish,” said Corporal Williams. “Lately the fishing sucks.”

  “The New Mississippi River is outside of my sector of responsibility, but I will look into the matter for you,” said the spider commander. What are catfish? he thought to himself. “We need to establish firm borders across the New Gobi Desert to reduce confrontations between colonists and our military.”

  “Good idea,” said Corporal Williams. “Do it. String lots of fence wire. Next issue?”

  “Terrorists are becoming a problem again,” said the spider commander. “Someone is supplying them landmines.”

  “Kill the terrorists. That’s what the Legion does,” suggested Corporal Williams. “And reduce your indiscriminate use of landmines. Poor security allows the terrorists to dig up or steal landmines and use them against us.”

  “Kill the terrorists! That is exactly what I told the governor needed to be done,” commented the spider commander. “I like your attitude. Moving on, can you give me an update on our extradition request for most-wanted fugitive Raul Miranda?”

  “We had him in custody,” said Corporal Williams. “Czerinski ordered Miranda delivered to you, but the terrorist escaped. A legionnaire was seriously injured. We are hunting for Miranda and will shoot him on sight.”

  “That about resolves the major issues for now,” announced the spider commander, speaking to the cameras. “I appreciate General Kalipetsis finally sending a reasonable ambassador I can work with. Someone who can get things done.”

  “What about the expansion of cable TV across the MDL into United States Galactic Federation territory?” asked one of the reporters. “Cable is so superior to satellite TV.”

  “First of all, I reject your premise of superiority,” said Corporal Williams, visibly upset. “Everyone knows friends do not let friends watch cable. We will go to war before allowing your cable rot to extend its tentacles across the MDL.”

  “We can table that issue,” suggested the spider commander, wanting to calm down Ambassador Williams. “Let us agree to disagree.”

  “But your stubborn boneheaded position is so irrational,” argued the reporter. “And Fox News Network is neither fair nor impartial.”

  “What?” said Corporal Williams, reaching for his pistol but only finding the pockets of his bathrobe. “You are lucky to be on this side of the MDL. The Legion throws obnoxious reporters like you out airlocks.”

  “That is more common ground we need to establish between our two great cultures,” agreed the spider commander, as he nodded to the Intelligentsia team leader. The police grabbed the reporter and dragged him from the room, yelling and thrashing about. As they got to the doorway, the reporter threw his shoe at Ambassador Williams. Williams ducked and gave the reporter the one-fingered salute in return.

  “Too bad you don’t have airlocks on the planet’s surface,” commented Corporal Williams.

  “I agree,” said the spider commander. “Negotiations have gone so well, I would like to invite you to a banquet in your honor tonight to celebrate the historic agreements reached today.”

  “I don’t know,” said Corporal Williams. “I just want to get out of town alive.”

  “We all want to leave the New Gobi,” said the spider commander. “But we are stuck here. Our sense of duty requires us to sacrifice and endure this godforsaken place. Besides, it will be good press. The photo ops will be invaluable.”

  “Will there be more vodka and hookers?” asked Private Wayne.

  “Please excuse my spider liaison officer,” said Corporal Williams. “I’m putting him into sex and alcohol rehab as soon as we cross the MDL.”

  “No apology is needed,” said the spider commander. “As I said, good help is hard to find in the Gobi. To further the spirit of cooperation and co-existence exemplified here today, I will accommodate your cultural preferences and personally provide lots of alcohol and hookers for the banquet.”

  “We will be there!” said Ambassador Williams.

  * * * * *

  The banquet was a grand affair. The convention center at the New Gobi Plaza Hotel accommodated the overflow formal-attire crowd. Spider dignitaries flew in on short notice from all over New Colorado to see and meet Ambassador Williams. Intently watching the negotiations on cable TV, the spider public believed they were witnessing a historic moment for the Empire, New Colorado, and the galaxy.

  In honor of their human pestilence guests, dinner was lavishly catered locally by McDonald’s Restaurant. Vodka and whiskey were provided by the spider commander. Polite conversation followed dinner. After the spider commander gave an eloquent introduction, Ambassador Williams got up to read his speech. Private Wayne had written most of it, and Williams planned to add commentary. They hoped to dazzle the spiders long enough to get through the evening and escape. TV cameras and substantial press coverage recorded what most hoped would be history in the making.

  “My fellow Americans,” read Corporal Williams from a prepared text. He frowned at the audience and added, “And my fellow spiders. It is our job as leaders to do what is right, no matter what the consequences. The will of God eventually prevails, so we had better do our damned best to do right, or else in the end we will be rightfully struck down by the hand of God. It don’t pay to be on the wrong side of God. I had a cousin in Tennessee who was struck by lightning three times, and let me tell you, he was a sinner.

  “Anyway,” continued Corporal Williams, realizing he had got off track, “as leaders, we need to strive to control events for the public good, rather than merely letting events control us. I believe God intends humanity and spiders to join together to forge a New Galactic World Order. Why else had God seen fit to put us both on the same miserable planet? Nowhere else in the galaxy do two sentient species share a planet.

  “Have there been great conflicts and hardship between us? Yes, you know that is true. But hardship and struggle make us stronger. Our shared struggles and hardship bond us together into one common history and, eventually, one common culture. The melting pot that is New Colorado will prevail. We are not perfect, but we are called to a perfect mission. If I am killed today, do not let my death stop this sacred effort. Let every drop of my blood spilled nurture the bond shared between our two great cultures.

  “The work we started today still needs to be finished. Our goal of a just and long-lasting peace among ourselves and among all nations is within our grasp. Seize it!”

&
nbsp; I watched Williams’ speech on TV, as did General Kalipetsis, Congress, and most of the known galaxy. I thought is was a great speech. I did not know Williams had it in him. However, the intent and meaning of the speech was lost in translation for the spiders. The spiders watching thought Williams was inviting the Arthropodan Empire to surrender to human pestilence domination. The mere mention of a New World Order set off the conspiracy theorists and caused rioting in the streets. There was no applause when Williams concluded his speech. Instead, Ambassador Williams and his bodyguards were escorted to the MDL, and unceremoniously shoved across the border.

  * * * * *

  General Kalipetsis made a special trip to New Gobi for a secret award ceremony and debriefing of the returned legionnaires. Corporal Tonelli, Corporal Williams, Private Wayne, and Private Camacho were awarded the Military Governor’s Citation of Merit. Williams was promoted to Sergeant. General Kalipetsis personally pinned on Williams’ new stripes.

  “I hope you all understand that public acknowledgement of your exploits and top-secret mission would jeopardize ongoing peace treaty negotiations,” said General Kalipetsis. “Most of you are already highly decorated combat veterans. I only hope this small token of my appreciation of your valor compensates you somewhat.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Sergeant Williams. “Sergeant is the highest rank ever for a Williams, although I claim Sergeant York of Pall Mall, Tennessee, as kin too.”

  “Sergeant York?” asked General Kalipetsis.

  “Alvin York,” said Sergeant Williams, proudly. “Alvin was the most decorated United States soldier during World War I. He married Gracie Williams, my great, great, great, great aunt.”

  “I see,” said General Kalipetsis. “I am glad to hear you are carrying on your family’s fine tradition of service to your country.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Sergeant Williams. “Between the preachers and the soldiers in my family, we have all the bases covered. I’m sure lots of us got into Heaven, and hopefully still more will, too.”

  General Kalipetsis departed as abruptly as he entered, leaving me to address the men. “You all have a week off for leave,” I said. “Don’t get into any more trouble. Dismissed!”

  Because of Sergeant Williams’ newfound notoriety caused by his intergalactic speech, the Legion had to hide him from the press. On my recommendation, Sergeant Williams was transferred to a weather station at the South Pole.

  Back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 12

  A confident young female legionnaire entered my office and saluted. “Sir, my name is Lieutenant Priscilla Percy. I am a Legion mental health professional sent by General Kalipetsis to talk to you.”

  “I don’t need a shrink,” I replied. “I’m fine most of the time.”

  “General Kalipetsis thinks that the stress of command may have caught up with you,” advised Lieutenant Percy. “How do you handle stress?”

  “Usually I just sit in the dark, grinding my teeth and rocking back and forth,” I said. “Sometimes I chant all night, watching porn.”

  “Your crude and irreverent comments do not faze me in the least,” said Lieutenant Percy. “I am told you drink to excess and have an anger management problem. Is that true?”

  “Probably,” I answered. “But that doesn’t mean I am crazy. I like to drink and unwind at the Angry Onion Tavern. Did you know I am part-owner of a new tavern called the Blind Tiger? The grand opening will be any day now. You’re invited. You can join me for a drink and observe first-hand whether I have a drinking problem or am crazy.”

  “No one thinks you are crazy,” assured Lieutenant Percy. “The first step toward confronting a problem is to admit you have a problem. Being that you have already acknowledged your drinking problem, I think we are already making excellent progress.”

  “I also gamble too much,” I added. “So what? Did you know that besides owning a bar, I am a millionaire?”

  “These bad habits are just symptoms of stress,” said Lieutenant Percy. “You need to find other ways to channel your tension.”

  “I am trying,” I said. “But you keep turning me down. I don’t want to go blind.”

  “Do you have any hobbies?” asked Lieutenant Percy. “Something like tennis?”

  “This is not a fancy country club,” I said. “This is the DMZ, and I am in the Foreign Legion. I’m happy just staying alive for another day.”

  “These are relatively peaceful times. You have more than enough time to find a hobby or something constructive to do with your off-duty time. Have you ever considered golf? It is very relaxing.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Do you go to church?” asked Lieutenant Percy.

  “I used to,” I answered. “But the spiders blew it up. Tough luck. Pastor Jim is rebuilding.”

  “Does your faith help you to deal with the pressures of command?”

  “Not likely. I would rather sleep on Sundays, especially when I’m hung-over.”

  “Are you in a relationship?” asked Lieutenant Percy, continuing to jot down notes. “Is there anyone special in your life?”

  “I thought you were here to talk about stress,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my chair.

  “How is your sex life?” asked Lieutenant Percy.

  “I am currently between relationships,” I said. “Are you interested in helping me in that regard, Priscilla?”

  “I am not just being nosey,” said Lieutenant Percy. “There are clinical reasons for my questions. When is the last time you had sex?”

  “That is none of your business,” I said. “You can go tell General Kalipetsis that I do not appreciate this prying into my private life.”

  “Sexual issues may be contributing to your stress and overall unhealthy mental state,” commented Lieutenant Percy. “General Kalipetsis assured me you are one of his best commanders and would cooperate fully in your rehabilitation. Do I need to call General Kalipetsis and tell him you are resisting therapy?”

  “No, Lieutenant Percy,” I said. “That will not be necessary. We can resolve these matters before you leave.”

  “Good,” said Lieutenant Percy, making a note. “You admit you are under a great deal of stress. I can help you manage that stress. Together we will confront the sources of your destructive behavior and treat the symptoms.”

  “You are writing things down to put into my personnel file?” I asked. “If so, I refuse to say anything more.”

  “Nothing said here will go into your personnel file,” assured Lieutenant Percy. “This is just between you and me. Notes help me organize my thoughts. I am only here to help.”

  “I still don’t believe in shrinks,” I said. “I don’t see how you can solve anything with a one-day visit.”

  “Maybe and maybe not,” said Lieutenant Percy. “All we are going to do today is discuss some of the troubling issues in your life. Sometimes merely talking about something can help to identify the source of a problem. When is the last time you had sex?”

  “With a human?” I asked. “Why do you keep asking that question?”

  “Of course with a human,” said Lieutenant Percy. “What else is there? You do not strike me as the type who cavorts with farm animals.”

  “What?” I asked, startled. “What are you writing? I do not mess around with farm animals!”

  “Oh my God!” said Lieutenant Percy, upset by a revelation. “You have sex with spiders?”

  “Not voluntarily,” I replied. “It’s complicated.”

  “That is disgusting!” said Lieutenant Percy. “How many times have you engaged in this bestiality?”

  “They are a sentient species,” I insisted. “Not beasts.”

  “How many times!” demanded Lieutenant Percy.

  “I can’t remember,” I replied. “We are on the frontier. There is a shortage of human females. And, you’re not helping to solve the problem.”

  “That is not a viable excuse, you degenerate,” said Lieutenant Percy. “You should be ashamed of
yourself and stripped of command. What kind of example does your ill-advised conduct set for your men? Your legionnaires look to you for guidance. You are a father figure to them.”

  “I know,” I said, my shoulders slumping. “I am bad. You should spank me.”

  “You are more than bad,” said Lieutenant Percy. “You are evil! This will go into your file!”

  “Oh come on,” I argued. “You promised nothing would go into my file. It’s just the stress of command on a far-flung dusty planet. I’ll promise to find a hobby, even play golf if you want me to.”

  “You cannot blame your debauchery on the stress of command,” said Lieutenant Percy. “Your deep-seated, debased, twisted behavior is probably a reflection of how you were raised. Were your parents perverts, too? You are so disgusting!”

  “My parents were both elected to public office,” I replied.

  “Politicians?” asked Lieutenant Percy. “No wonder.”

  Lieutenant Percy ended the session by walking out and slamming the door. I called my chief engineer officer and ordered him to immediately build a golf course. Then, I dragged myself down to the Angry Onion Tavern and knocked the first Hell’s Angel I saw off his bar stool. The bouncers beat me with clubs and strung me up in a cocoon and hung me upside-down from the ceiling.

  * * * * *

  The spider commander and his new military intelligence officer looked out across the MDL at the latest Legion construction project. Bulldozers were plowing the desert. Trucks were hauling in fertilizer and sod.

  “What is this madness?” asked the spider commander. “Are the human pestilence building another park?”

  “It is a golf course,” said the military intelligence officer. “Golf is a recreational sport involving hitting a small ball from one distant hole to another. It is a bit similar to lawn croquet, only on a much grander scale.”