“Sure, why not?” I replied. “Please do put my medical condition all over the Galactic Database. It seems like my whole life is recorded in 3-D on the database anyway! What’s one more dissection of my life for everyone to snoop into?”
“I can sympathize with you,” commented Dr. Trevino. “I have viewed your database videos at X-rated parties. It’s a shame you can’t get paid royalties for those pics. You would be rich.”
“I am already rich,” I said. “What I need is to get out of the Legion. I want to retire. I have nothing left to give.”
“The one piece of good news for you is that the Legion has an excellent medical plan,” advised Dr. Trevino. “You do not want to leave the Legion now. You may be in a coma for a long time.”
“Doc, find Major Lopez and tell him I want twenty-four-seven Legion security on my room. And hook me up with a phone. I want to make a bet on the World Series.”
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Chapter 10
Major Lopez spent the evening reviewing payroll records for the buffalo drive. Three volunteers were undocumented scorpions. They did not even have names and were listed only by numbers. Lopez had his foreman point them out. Sure enough, they were the scorpion escapees.
Pistol drawn, Major Lopez confronted the scorpions at their campfire. As the scorpion lieutenant reached in his pocket for the grenade, Lopez shot him several times. The grenade fell to the ground between them, and exploded. Camp workers rushed to see what happened. Major Lopez lay wounded, and the scorpion lieutenant lay dead.
“What happened?” asked Sergeant Williams.
“There were two more, but they ran off,” advised Major Lopez. “They are scorpion Special Forces. Find them!”
* * * * *
Major Lopez was air-lifted by shuttle to New Gobi and put in my same hospital room. I had to call him on the phone to talk because I was still in a coma. Lopez thought the brain implant communications device was kind of creepy and crossed himself when he realized it was me on the phone.
“You look dead, but I guess not,” replied Lopez. “I’m glad the Grim Reaper didn’t get you this time, but he almost got me with a grenade. I killed one terrorist, and two got away.”
“It’s good you survived,” I said. “I always tell people you are a hard bastard to kill. How long will you be staying with me?”
“Just a few days,” advised Major Lopez. “Hospitals creep me out because of all the super germs they cultivate. I’m staying just long enough to complete my blood transfusion.”
“Really?” I asked. “I need blood, too. What blood type are you?” “Never mind that,” replied Major Lopez as he lifted the plastic tent over me. “What the Hell is that green stuff growing on you?” “I think I caught a social disease from the Queen,” I said. “Whatever you do, don’t have sex with her.” “Not to worry,” said Major Lopez. “It will never happen.” “I know,” I replied, testily. “It would be a sin. Right?” “Damn right.” “Spare me your twisted morality,” I said. “Spare me your total lack of any morality,” responded Lopez, putting the tent flap back down. “I swear you’ll put your dick in anything. Didn’t you even wear protection?”
“I know you’re right,” I admitted. “But you’d think the Queen would have good medical. I guess I was drunk. If I don’t come out of this coma soon, just shoot me. I don’t want to live like this.”
“You have a deal,” promised Lopez.
* * * * *
“Is that how the Legion deals with undocumented workers?” asked the Scorpion Queen. “You just gun them down?”
“That so-called worker was a scorpion Special Forces officer armed with a grenade,” advised Sergeant Williams. “Identification chips embedded in his exoskeleton have confirmed that. I need to know from you about the other two.”
“I will not be interrogated,” advised the Queen. “I did not know this poor fellow that died. How is Major Lopez doing?”
“He is recovering nicely,” replied Sergeant Williams. “Although I hear Czerinski is not. I am sorry, but you will have to quit the buffalo drive. Now that your two main sponsors are hospitalized, security concerns force us to move you to the safety of the city.”
“The Marriott?” asked the Queen. “It is not any safer there. Haven’t you heard of truck bombs?”
“The Marriott is safer than the desert,” explained Sergeant Williams. “The desert is no place for a lady.”
“What?” asked the Queen, incredulously. “Oh never mind, sergeant. Fine! My ambassador and I will call upon the Arthropodan governor. There are trade and nuclear non-proliferation issues to be negotiated. I was hoping to put that stuff off for as long as possible, but I guess it just can’t wait. Send for my shuttle.”
* * * * *
“This is Phil Coen of Channel Five World News Tonight. Stand by for news. But first, have the doldrums of winter got you down? Ask your doctor if Spider-Starters pills are an option for you. Spider-Starters are better than coffee and safer than most beta-blockers. Your depression will be history with Spider-Starters. First developed by Arthropodan scientists for long-haul spacers, Spider-Starters are the new miracle pick-me-up pills that are the rage among New Colorado’s elite.
“Spider-Starters should not be taken if you are pregnant or have high blood pressure, as there is some risk of cardiac arrest. Also, Spider-Starters have not yet been FDA approved for sales and use on Old Earth or Mars, and are in fact illegal on both planets. But, we all know Spider-Starters work miracles. Have you ever seen a depressed spider?
“Now for the news. Major Lopez, Hero of the Legion, was slightly injured today during a bandit attack on the much-talked-about buffalo drive to the South. Her Majesty, the Scorpion Queen, was unharmed in the attack, but has moved up her itinerary and joined trade talks already in progress with the Arthropodan governor and commerce minister. Hero of the Legion, Colonel Joey R. Czerinski, also had to quit the buffalo drive after apparently falling ill to heat exhaustion. It was one-hundred-thirty degrees today in the New Gobi Desert. Remember, if you respect the desert, the desert will respect you. If traveling in the desert, always bring water, and never travel alone.
“In other news, the Arthropodan governor has fallen ill. An anonymous Arthropodan source close to the governor says he only has a slight temperature and a mild green rash, but he had to bow out of important trade talks with the Scorpion Kingdom.
“Do you feel like eating out today on the cheap? Come to McDonald’s for fine dining that even aliens enjoy. The Scorpion Queen was recently quoted as saying that she loves McDonald’s, where you are guaranteed to get change back from your dollar. Have a Royal Meal today at McDonald’s.
“In more health-related news, celebrations for marines returning home from embassy duty on the scorpion home world were marred by an influenza outbreak that has caused the quarantine of the entire marine camp at New Phoenix. Marine spokesman Captain Sutherland told Channel Five World News Tonight that the quarantine will continue until updated vaccinations arrive from Old Earth. The CDC in Atlanta has promised to expedite delivery.”
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Chapter 11
“Good morning, Colonel Czerinski,” said legionnaire Private Walter Knight, cheerfully arriving for hospital guard duty. “How do you feel?” he asked, addressing the speaker phone hooked to my brain implant communications device.
“I’m still in a coma,” I answered. “How do you think I feel?” “Well rested?” ventured Private Knight. “All you do is lie there all day.” “You are not one of my favorite legionnaires,” I replied. “In fact, you are an idiot.” “I love you too, sir,” replied Private Knight. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have good news from Dr. Trevino. You should see how excited he is about it.”
“Well?” “Trevino published Czerinski’s Disease in the Galactic Medical Journal. You are going to be famous.” “I am already famous. Am I getting any better?” “No, I don’t think so, sir,” answered Private Knight, peering under the plastic tent. “You look like hell. Tha
t green rash looks like it’s moving. Are you contagious?”
“Shut up, Knight,” I warned. “Tell Lopez I don’t want you guarding me anymore.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll guard you diligently to the death. Want me to read you a book? I have several sci-fi paperbacks with me.”
“No, the mere sound of your voice irritates me! I hate science fiction. It’s always so phony. They never write anything realistic.”
“It’s not all phony,” said Private Knight, upset. “Some is quite good.”
“I heard you were writing a book,” I said. “An epic tale about the Legion? How is it progressing?”
“I’m suffering from writer’s block,” commented Private Knight. “I’m thinking of killing off all my main characters in one big cataclysmic thermo-nuclear explosion, and starting over with better characters. Or maybe I could kill them off with a plague. You know, something real nasty ... like what you have. Yeah! That’s the ticket! A testicular-eating green slime mold plague could attack the whole galaxy, and a private in the Legion saves the day! Thanks, sir. I think I’m on to something with your idea.”
“Don’t do it,” I advised. “Do not kill off the main characters. Good main characters are hard to develop, and you should just run with them through new plots. Besides, readers don’t like it when their favorite heroes are killed off just for artistic shock value.”
“My main character is not very endearing,” commented Private Knight. “He is a crusty old perverted disease-ridden tyrant of a commander. But, you are right. Nuking him would be too good. I think I’ll kill him real slow and painful.”
“No!” I shouted through the brain implant. “I order you not to kill that commanding officer. He’s just misunderstood! He probably gets bad press!”
“Excuse me, sir, but poetic license is up to the complete discretion of the author,” advised Private Knight. “You cannot give orders about what I put in a work of science fiction.”
“Yes, I can,” I insisted. “There might be national security implications. How would you like to be transferred to radioactive waste cleanup duty?”
“I’ve got it!” said Private Knight, ignoring my threat. “I’ll kill off old Captain Bligh in a mutiny! His entire staff will plunge daggers into the old coot while he sleeps, too drunk or drugged to defend himself.”
“No!” I said. “That’s a terrible idea. It’s been used before. I think Shakespeare did it.” Private Knight cautiously lifted the clear plastic tent covering my bed. He poked a small safety pin into the bottom of my foot. “Ouch!” I yelled. “What the hell are you doing? You fool! Get away from me! Did you just stab me? I’ll have you shot!” “No, sir,” said Private Knight. “I was just checking your reflexes, sir. They’re excellent! I don’t care what Dr. Trevino says. I think you are getting better and are going to live.”
“Really?”
“No. Psych!”
* * * * *
I called the Scorpion Queen many times, but she refused to pick up or return any of my messages. The bitch! Finally she answered her phone. “Yes?”
“I have been trying to call you for days,” I blurted out. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“Frankly, dear, you weren’t all that impressive,” replied the Queen. “You are all hype. I do not think we should see each other again.”
“That’s not why I’ve been calling you!” I said. “What kind of sick creeping scorpion crud slime mold disease did you give me?” “I don’t know what you are talking about,” said the Queen, indignantly. “Then you need to check yourself in at the Health Department free clinic,” I advised. “Do you think you have acquired some sort of affliction from me?” asked the Queen. “Did you catch influenza? It is that time of year.”
“Don’t play Miss Innocent with me!” I challenged. “You know what I caught is not the flu. I have been in a coma ever since I fell off my horse, and now there is a green rash growing all over my body, starting at my balls! What did you do to me?”
“Oh, my,” said the Queen. “Are you sure it’s green, and not just some shade of purple or blue?” “I am in a coma!” I repeated. “Is there anything your doctors can do?” “This is so embarrassing,” commented the Queen. “Think of the scandal. It would be worse than the videos. This is so terrible.” “I am dying here,” I reminded Her Majesty. “Is there anything your doctors can do?” “Just take an aspirin and get lots of sleep,” advised the Queen. “You will be okay.” The Queen disconnected. Private Knight, who had been listening on the extension phone, finally spoke up. “So, that green stuff is contagious?” he asked. “I knew it! I probably caught it already.”
“I hope so.”
“That was pretty coldhearted of Her Majesty,” commented Private Knight. “So, you had sex with the Queen? Didn’t you use protection?”
“I already had this conversation,” I muttered. “Tell Dr. Trevino to give me aspirin.” “What?” asked Private Knight. “Are you in pain?” “Yes,” I said. “I want aspirin. Do it now!” “I can increase your morphine drip,” advised Private Knight, pressing buttons on the IV tree. Several alarms started beeping. “It’s real simple to do.”
“No!” I ordered. “I only want aspirin! It will cure me. It will cure you too, if you’ve caught this green stuff. I’ll bet you have.”
* * * * *
Private Knight fetched the aspirin, and took plenty for himself, too. I was cured of Czerinski’s Disease. Also, aspirin cured a company of marines and the Arthropodan Governor of the North Territory of the flu. As a side benefit, I am now immune to most scorpion afflictions and pathogens. But next time I get drunk, I will wear protection.
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Chapter 12
“What do you have to offer, Mr. Trade Minister?” asked the Scorpion Queen. “Gold, uranium, fossil fuel, rare metals, cleverly manufactured goods?”
“New Colorado is a bountiful planet!” boasted the Arthropodan Commerce Secretary. “We have it all.”
“Yet you lost your most valuable commodity to the humans during the last war,” commented the Queen. “You lost the Bread Basket of the Galaxy. You lost the vast irrigated New Gobi Desert and all its farmers. Doesn’t it grate on you for all those spider farmers to be slaving away for humanity?”
“Are you proposing intrigue against the United States Galactic Federation?” asked the commerce secretary. “If so, forget it. The Emperor has grown weary of war with the human pestilence. He fears this last war was a close call – too close. Arthropoda itself was almost a victim of the destruction. As it is, New Colorado has been left a radioactive mess.”
“I just want to know if you spiders living under the Legion boot are growing restless, or if you have resigned yourselves to human rule?”
“We fought a good fight and lost,” explained the commerce secretary. “Part of the reason we lost was because of intervention by you. So, I don’t know what you are getting at. We are not weak, but, we lost two wars at once. We lost the hot war, and we lost the culture war. My kids still speak my language, but I barely understand them. They wear the Nike Swooshstika, watch American satellite TV, and listen to the human pestilence music. We can’t compete with that. We tried to ban Americanization, but failed. Now our youth are becoming Americans right under our noses, and there is nothing we can do to stop it. Even I own a pair of blue jeans.”
“That won’t happen to the Scorpion Kingdom,” advised the Queen. “Our culture is stronger than that.”
“I’m sure,” said the commerce secretary, chuckling as he watched the Queen take another sip of Starbucks coffee. “Would you like another double shot? I don’t know about you, but I can’t get going in the morning without my latte.”
“Yes, thank you,” replied the Queen. “This is delicious. Starbucks is the one thing the humans do right.”
“In answer to your earlier question, yes it does grate on the Emperor that we lost the New Gobi Desert,” said the commerce secretary. “But galactic stability is more important,
especially if the Scorpion Kingdom is going to side with the human pestilence during any confrontation.”
“I promise we will stay neutral if any conflicts arise,” replied the Queen. “The Kingdom will not be drawn into another war and will not take strategic advantage of your conflicts with humanity. We only want to protect the civil rights of scorpions living on New Colorado. It is only natural to approach you, our distant exoskeleton cousins, for support on this issue.”
“You will need to communicate such an important change of Scorpion Kingdom policy directly to the Emperor,” advised the commerce secretary. “This is not something to be left to doubt and assumptions. You need to say it to the Emperor’s face. And you need to convince the Emperor you also speak for your King.”
“I plan to visit the Emperor soon,” advised the Queen. “It is a top priority.”
“Rumor is you also plan a visit to the USGF President,” commented the spider commerce secretary. “I warn you against double dealing. Do not try to be too clever. We are not fools and will not tolerate treachery.”
“I understand I need to establish my credibility and earn your trust. Goodwill is the word the humans use. This visit is the first step in establishing goodwill on a personal level. These negotiations are a substantial shift in Kingdom policy. We used to eat our neighbors rather than enter into trade agreements with them. My goal for the Scorpion Kingdom is to be a responsible member of the galactic community, while still projecting substantial influence to protect our interests.”
“I see. You want to be a superpower?”
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