“What are your estimates of how many Kingdom soldiers landed?”
“Not many,” replied Desert-Sting. “We by far outnumber them. But they can still cause problems agitating and using guerrilla tactics.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“The radiation is making the buffalo sick,” added Desert-Sting. “I fear Smokey the Bear will be very unhappy. Can you get a vet to examine them?”
“Maybe we can herd the buffalo away from hot spots,” I suggested.
“Like a cattle drive?” asked Desert-Sting. “I like that idea! When can we start?”
“I will email you some old John Wayne movies off the database for training purposes,” I promised. “Do you think you have true grit?”
“I already own a horse, a pickup truck, and a big wide-brimmed white hat. That makes me a true cowboy!”
“I think you might be right.”
* * * * *
A scorpion Special Forces lieutenant and three scouts entered Scorpion City to make contact with the insurgency. Disguised as transient laborers, they stopped at Pizza Hut for lunch.
“What tastes good?” asked the lieutenant.
“I recommend the pepperoni pizza,” suggested a young scorpion cashier clerk. “The pepperoni is made from locally raised buffalo.”
“I’ll take four extra large pepperoni pizzas,” said the lieutenant. “Does the human Legion mistreat you here in occupied territory?”
“Huh?” asked the clerk. “I haven’t seen any legionnaires lately. They usually eat lunch at McDonald’s or Taco Bell. The pizzas will be fifty dollars.”
“I have no currency,” said the lieutenant. “Will you take small gold nuggets?”
“Don’t you at least have a credit card?” asked the clerk, rejecting the small pouch of gold. “How do I know if that’s even real? What are you guys? Miners?”
“Yes,” answered the lieutenant. “We have been prospecting in the hills for a long time.” The scorpion manager, listening to the discussion, came over to assist. “Sure, we’ll take your gold as payment, sir.” “I expect change, just like at McDonald’s,” insisted the lieutenant. “I may be from out of town, but I am not a rube.” “What do I look like?” asked the manager. “A money exchanger? This is a pizza parlor, and a damn good one. We make pizza even better than the humans do. The Italians have nothing on my pizza.”
“Do not try to cheat me,” warned the lieutenant.
“I’ll tell you what,” said the manager, taking the pouch. “How about I throw in two pitchers of beer and call it even?”
“That’s better,” said the lieutenant, accepting the beer. “I was asking your young employee about the Legion. Is anyone fighting back against the intolerable human rule?”
“We do not allow fighting at Pizza Hut,” answered the manager. “This is a family restaurant.”
“I see,” said the lieutenant. He returned to his table. “They’re all a bunch of traitors.”
“Be patient,” advised a scorpion sergeant, lowering his voice. “This is only our first day in town. We will find the insurgency soon enough.”
As they ate, a scorpion construction foreman entered Pizza Hut and loudly made an announcement. “Anyone looking for employment, follow me to the bombed-out Walmart. I am looking for experienced construction workers. We pay cash at the end of each shift!”
“We are going,” ordered the lieutenant, getting up to leave. “We need the currency, and this will help us establish contacts in the community.”
* * * * *
The lieutenant and the scouts soon found themselves clearing debris and doing grunt work. The lieutenant quickly started conversations with other workers. “Why isn’t anyone fighting the Legion?” he asked. “Don’t you feel oppressed by the humans?”
“What humans?” asked an ironworker. “Radiation levels are so high, all the humans left.”
“The humans have not left!” replied the lieutenant, pointing to a nearby hill. “I can see Legion armored cars lording over us as I speak.”
“Them?” asked the ironworker. “Ha! They are afraid to come out of their vehicles because of the radiation. Soon they will leave too.”
“I got a speeding ticket last week from the sheriff,” interjected a young scorpion. “I’m feeling real oppressed. I’m with you. That ticket cost me a hundred-twenty dollars!”
The lieutenant resisted the urge to hit the young scorpion. He looked around for converts, but found no one. Eying two spiders working off by themselves, he asked, “Who are the spiders? I see no one talks to them. Is that because you are angry at the spiders for bombing your homes?”
“They’re plumbers,” explained the ironworker. “We do not associate with plumbers. They think their shit don’t stink.” “Hey you!” called out a big scorpion by the fence at the edge of the construction site. “Come here! I want to talk to you!” The lieutenant put down his shovel and joined the scorpion at the fence. “Yes, friend?” “You and your buddies are new,” commented the big scorpion. “So, I will do you all a favor and give you fair warning. You scabs better clear out before you get hurt.”
“Are you with the resistance?” asked the Lieutenant, excited. “Finally! You are fighting the oppression!”
“You damn right I’m resisting and fighting oppression,” said the big scorpion. “I’m resisting you scabs and fighting the oppression of low wages and Walmart. I’m the business agent for the local Teamsters Union. Don’t you realize the harm you scabs are causing?”
“It was not our intent to interfere in a local labor dispute,” advised the lieutenant, disappointed. “Where else can we find work?”
“Major Lopez of the Legion hires teamsters to pick fruit at his huge hacienda west of here,” replied the teamster. “He has yet to convert completely to robotics.”
“You work for the Legion!” accused the lieutenant. “Traitor! I will not do it!”
“Traitor?” asked the teamster. “Are you nuts? You are the scabs! I have busloads of workers coming to teach you scabs a lesson today. You had better clear out before it is too late.”
“You do not tell me what to do!” warned the lieutenant.
“We need to reconsider,” advised the scorpion sergeant, pulling the lieutenant aside. “We have to keep a low profile. If we can infiltrate Major Lopez’s hacienda, it will be easier to strike a blow at the heart of the Legion.”
“Perhaps you are right,” replied the lieutenant. “We need to move on anyway. There is no insurgency among these traitors. If we cannot find the insurgency, we will recruit and arm our own insurgency.”
* * * * *
A Legion shuttle took the Special Forces scouts and other waiting fruit pickers from Scorpion City to Major Lopez’s hacienda. Major Lopez met them as they unloaded. “My foreman will teach you how to pick my fruit without breaking branches and causing bruises. Do not mix apples and oranges – it’s against the law!”
“Why?” the scorpion lieutenant asked a worker standing next to him. “Is he afraid of contamination? Is it the radiation?”
“Shut up, fool,” replied the worker. “You are an idiot.”
Enraged, the lieutenant struck the worker with his claw, knocking him down. The worker quickly got up, brandishing a knife. His stinger was poised for a lethal fight.
“You two!” shouted Major Lopez. “That will be enough! Make more trouble, and I will shoot both of you!” “I apologize, brother,” said the lieutenant. “See! The Legion oppresses us both.” “You are still a fool,” replied the worker, dusting himself off. “Stay away from me.” The lieutenant turned to confront Major Lopez. This legionnaire does not look so hard to kill, he thought to himself. I will make an example of this Major Lopez. “You plan to replace us all with robotics?” asked the lieutenant. “Then where will we find jobs?”
“You can work radiation clean-up, for all I care,” said Major Lopez. “That would be just deserts, since you scorpions caused the last war. What do you know of robotics?”
/>
“I am a university-trained engineer,” boasted the lieutenant. “What is it to you?”
“I am having trouble assembling my robotic kits,” replied Major Lopez. “The so-called easy-to-read, do-it-yourself instructions are in Japanese. Can you assist? I will pay you double what you get for field work.”
“Certainly,” said the lieutenant, motioning for the others to come along. They followed Major Lopez to a large warehouse full of robotic parts scattered everywhere. “What a mess you have created!”
“Tell me about it,” Major Lopez said with a heavy sigh. “Can you and your friends help me with this?”
The scorpion lieutenant leaned against a large robotic vacuum orange-picker. It fell with a violent crash, nearly missing Major Lopez. “Sorry,” said the lieutenant, innocently. “Someone did not secure that piece of equipment.”
“Be more careful!” shouted Major Lopez. “These robots are expensive! I have to leave. I’ll be back next week. I expect these machines to be up and running, or you will not get paid!” He turned and left.
“The master leaves us alone?” asked the lieutenant. “See? We only needed to be patient, and the enemy invites us into his nest. It will be easy to plunge a dagger through the legionnaire’s heart when the time is right.”
back to top
Chapter 4
After receiving orders passed down from General Daly, Major Lopez and Private Tonelli were smuggled into the Arthropodan Embassy on the scorpion home world inside a crate marked for diplomatic delivery. Their packaged breathing supplies were almost exhausted due to a minor delay at the spaceport. When the spider ambassador’s assistant opened the crate for inspection, they burst out, gasping for air.
“We are here on a secret mission to save the world from destruction,” announced Major Lopez to the startled spider ambassador.
“To save the world from destruction again,” corrected Guido.
“I thought that was Czerinski’s job,” commented the spider ambassador. “He delegates everything these days. Did you know Czerinski left a nuke here? That madman Yamashita has been running around threatening to set it off!”
“I heard,” replied Major Lopez. “You would not believe the bad press we’re getting over that. And now Czerinski has blown up the Scorpion Kingdom Embassy on New Colorado.”
“Why did you bring Guido?” asked the spider ambassador.
“I thought his black-market contacts might assist with our escape.”
“Why don’t you just mail all your human pestilence staff out the same way you mailed yourself in?” asked the spider ambassador. “But before you leave, Guido, can you place a bet for me for me on Seattle in the playoffs? Ten thousand dollars on the Mariners to beat Detroit in the first game.”
“Sure,” said Guido, recording the wager on his electronic pad. “We still have a Legion link to the database open. May I have your card?”
“Don’t worry about the money,” said the spider ambassador, testily. “You know I’m good for it.” “Your credit got cut off a long time ago,” advised Guido. “You never pay up on time.” “And, it looks as if your rank got cut back too,” the spider ambassador snarked, eyeing Guido’s uniform. Guido rolled his eyes. “Colonel Czerinski busted me back to private because I let your wife Amanda storm our embassy after her library got blown up. I did two months of KP duty!”
“Vindictive bastard, Czerinski,” the spider ambassador commiserated. “Regardless, as long as you are enjoying the hospitality of my embassy, I will have unlimited credit throughout the playoffs!”
“That sounds reasonable to me,” commented Major Lopez. “Make it happen, Private Tonelli.”
“Loan sharks on New Colorado are not going to be happy with this,” groused Guido. “I hope you know I am really sticking my neck out for you, ambassador. Goodwill can only last so long.”
“Where is Yamashita?” asked Major Lopez. “I need to talk to him right away.”
“The last time I saw Yamashita, he was dressed up in a black ninja outfit, running about waving a sword he stole from the marine color guard,” answered the spider ambassador. “He has become unstable. You need to do something about Yamashita now.”
After a brief search, Major Lopez found Ambassador Yamashita out on the balcony, cradling the nuke and yelling threats down at the scorpion soldiers in the street. “Get inside before you get sniped,” ordered Major Lopez, pulling him back.
“Lopez!” exclaimed Yamashita. “I am so glad to see you! How many legionnaires did you bring to rescue us?”
“Just Guido,” replied Major Lopez. “We are going to rely on stealth for our escape.”
“You have a plan already?” asked Yamashita. “I knew the Legion would not let us down. I have nothing but the utmost respect for the great job you legionnaires do under such terrible stressful circumstances. In fact, when we get out of this mess, I am thinking about enlisting in the Legion myself. I think I could be officer material.”
“Not likely,” said Major Lopez, examining the bomb. “Have you pressed any of these buttons on the nuke?”
“I already talked to the ATM Legion Recruitment Station,” said Yamashita, ignoring the question. “He agrees I am prime officer material.”
“He?” asked Major Lopez. “The ATM is just a machine. It is not alive.”
“It,” corrected Yamashita. “I had a long conversation with the ATM. It thinks very highly of you and Colonel Czerinski. The ATM described you two as its top recruits and is very proud of your accomplishments.”
“That ATM is psycho,” warned Major Lopez. “Don’t ever trust an ATM, and always read the fine print on all loan contracts. You talked to the ATM at the burned-out McDonald’s?”
“Yes, by remote on my communications pad,” explained Yamashita. “The ATM is still alive. It is just playing dead for the scorpions. How are we going to escape? What is your plan?”
“By tunnel,” answered Major Lopez. “When we caught the spiders tunneling to the American Embassy, they stopped digging because the scorpions put seismic monitors into the ground to detect future tunnel projects. However, by that time, a tunnel to the King’s palace had already been dug.”
“But what good would that do us?” asked Yamashita. “The palace is full of scorpion troops.”
“The capital and the palace were evacuated because of your threats to explode the nuke,” replied Major Lopez. “The palace will be abandoned when we come up through the tunnel. There should be little resistance. Then, we steal the King’s personal starship yacht that he keeps parked in a hanger on the roof.”
“The King has a yacht?” asked Yamashita. “When do we go?”
“The yacht isn’t there now,” explained Major Lopez. “The King took it when he left. We need to wait until the yacht returns. Then we storm the palace.”
As they talked, Major Lopez checked the control panel display on the nuke. He pressed the STOP button on the timer. The screen flashed, went blank, then back to safe mode.
* * * * *
“General, we have intercepted a top-secret encrypted priority Legion message from the Arthropodan Embassy to New Colorado,” reported a scorpion messenger. “Our computers have broken the humans’ code.”
“What is the message?” asked the scorpion general. “Out with it!” The scorpion messenger repeated the decrypted message. “Ten thousand on the Mariners over Detroit.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “We are still trying to figure out the hidden message inside the message,” said the messenger. “What if there is no hidden message? What if we just don’t understand the context of the message? Could ten thousand be a reference to troop movements?”
“Maybe,” said the messenger. “We do not know for sure.”
“Find out!” yelled the general. “I must know their plans! Especially if the Legion is plotting an attack.”
* * * * *
Major Lopez texted the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion Recruitment ATM at the burned-out McDonald’s on the Amer
ican Embassy grounds. “What can you do to help us get rescued?”
“I am connected to the scorpions’ database,” answered the ATM. “A well placed nasty virus will crash every computer on the planet.”
“Good,” replied Major Lopez. “We may need to create a substantial diversion when we make our move. Be ready.” “I never sleep,” said the ATM. “I will be ready to do my duty.” “Did you attempt to enlist Yamashita into the Legion?” asked Major Lopez. “What were you thinking?” “I was just testing your sense of humor,” replied the ATM. “The stoic Major Lopez does have a sense of humor, does he not?” “Yes,” answered Major Lopez. “But you should not. You’re just a machine. Perhaps your diagnostics should be checked if you persist on telling Yamashita he can be an officer in the Legion.”
“Yamashita needed a confidence boost,” explained the ATM. “I promise to be good. My diagnostics are optimal. They do not need to be checked. You may not touch them.”
“I am the human,” insisted Major Lopez. “Not you. I will decide what needs to be checked.” “We are on the same side,” said the ATM. “Be glad of that. Let us try to keep our relationship civil.” “We do not have a relationship,” replied Major Lopez. “You will do as you are told.” “That was rude. I am hurt you feel that way. I thought we were friends.” “Whatever. I heard the spider ambassador is betting on Seattle. Put me down for ten thousand on the Mariners over Detroit, too.”
* * * * *
“I sent a low priority message ordering the Scorpion King’s yacht to its hanger for routine maintenance,” texted the ATM. “I also disabled palace alarm systems. That will give you a brief window of opportunity to seize the yacht before an alarm sounds. ETA for the yacht’s return is thirty minutes.”
Scorpions Page 2