America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 2: Reenlistment

by Walter Knight

  * * * * *

  Four masked spiders carrying Arthropodan assault rifles entered the New Memphis branch of the First Colonial Bank of New Colorado. They demanded large denominations of cash. Two minutes later they were out the door with two hundred thousand dollars. A getaway driver waited out front in a stolen car.

  As General Electric inspected the stolen cash, a purple dye pack exploded all over his face and hands. He cursed the human pestilence for their devious ways, then gave orders for the driver to head for the North Highway. Halfway out of town, G.E. found a GPS location transmitter bundled in the money. He threw it out the window.

  General Electric turned to crime because his lawsuit had gone all wrong. His attorney, Depoli, explained that he lost a motion for summary judgment to dismiss, filed by the Legion. The Court held that the Legion had immunity against lawsuits that originated from combat zones. Also, the judge was making inquiries about G.E.’s true identity. G.E. decided to it was time to get out of town. Legionnaires were waiting at the boat docks, so he took the North Highway. They hoped to blend in with the gold rush traffic.

  At Battle Creek, they spent the night celebrating. The girls were happy to party with them and take their money.

  “Listen up, boys,” said Pam. “Line up for inspection. This is a safety-first brothel.”

  Pam walked down the line happily inspecting the bank robbers until she got to G.E. “What happened to you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” said G.E.

  “If you want to get laid in my brothel, you are going to have to talk about it,” said Pam. “These are high-class girls. What is that purple stuff all over you?”

  “It’s nothing,” said G.E. “It’s just exploding purple dye.”

  “I have never heard of that. Is it contagious?” asked Pam. “How did you contract exploding purple dye?”

  “No, it is not contagious,” said G.E. “I got it from the human pestilence.”

  “That’s kind of kinky,” said Pam. “But I am sorry. I cannot risk catching whatever it is you have. You need to have that looked at by a doctor. No sex for you, even with protection. The rest of you boys have fun all night.”

  “But it is not a virus,” explained G.E. “It was in the money.”

  “I don’t care what it was in, it’s not getting in me,” said Pam. “It creeps me out. You need to leave. I don’t even want you on the premises.”

  G.E. went next door to the café and ordered a venison steak. The old spider cooking looked familiar. He took a closer look. The spider was wearing a floppy wide brim hat with a big feather in it, sunglasses, a full length fur coat, a gold earring, gold rings on all his digits, gold chains, and a shiny pistol with ivory grips on his belt. The gold cap on his fang was stunning.

  “Do I know you?” asked G.E. “I feel like we have met.”

  “Not likely,” replied the prospector. He remembered the Special Forces officer. “What’s with the purple creeping crud all over your face and hands?”

  “It’s just purple dye,” said G.E. “It was an accident. It won’t come off no matter how hard I scrub.”

  “Want to buy some paint?” asked the prospector. “Maybe you can cover it up.”

  “No,” said G.E. “It will wear off eventually.”

  “It’s gross is what it is,” commented the prospector as he gave G.E. his steak in a box. “I’m making your order to go because your condition is bad for business. It’s probably a health code violation to allow you to eat in the café without a mask and gloves.”

  “Health code violation?” asked G.E. “Are you kidding? You are cooking out of a tent, and I just saw a donkey stick its nasty head in the front door flap. Now I recognize you. You’re that old prospector.”

  “And you are a Special Forces marine officer,” said the prospector. “What happened? Lose the war again?”

  “It’s a long story,” said G.E. He let out a hissing sigh. “Do you have any vacancies at your hotel? I need a room big enough for five beds.”

  “Yes I do,” said the prospector. “I’ll give you a suite. It even has a heater and cable TV.”

  “Friends don’t let friends watch cable TV,” insisted G.E. “Isn’t cable TV illegal?”

  “Yes, but it’s a silly law,” said the prospector. “Don’t worry. The cable is underground. That way the Feds can’t mess with it.”

  “Aren’t you afraid the Legion might arrest you for subversive activities?” asked G.E.

  “Let them try to arrest me,” said the prospector, holding up an RPG from behind the counter. “A lot have tried, a lot have died. Cable TV is the future. Soon cable will reach all the way to Finisterra. It can’t be stopped.”

  “I’m sorry about our first meeting,” said G.E. “No hard feelings?”

  “I’m good,” lied the prospector, still upset. “You are a customer now.”

  * * * * *

  The next morning the prospector sold G.E. an old utility van that had been salvaged from the roadside. G.E. felt their stolen car might be too hot for the trip to Finisterra. Just before arriving at Finisterra, they pulled off along side the roadway for a break. G.E. took a walk in the woods for some privacy. He could hear a humming sound. G.E. thought he had heard the humming sound earlier, but dismissed it as inner ear ringing caused by the purple exploding pack. Now the humming, clearly mechanical, was distinct and real. G.E. looked about the brush but could find nothing. Then he looked up. That’s it, he thought. It must be a surveillance drone. G.E ran towards the van shouting a warning. A missile, guided by a camera on the drone, hit the van. The resulting fireball drove G.E. back into the woods just as a Legion armored car rounded the corner. A machine gun blasted the woods on both sides of the roadway as G.E. ducked for cover.

  “We got him!” shouted Lieutenant Lopez. “It’s about time something went right.”

  Private Washington carefully checked the inside of the van. “We might have a problem,” he said.

  “No one could have survived a direct hit,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “I see assault rifles, grenades, and lots of ammunition,” said Private Washington. “I see no equipment, tools, or TV cable.”

  “So he was traveling light. What’s the problem? It’s the right license plate,” insisted Lieutenant Lopez. “The main thing is that the Cable Guy is dead.”

  “I see four spider bodies,” said Private Washington. “The Cable Guy is human.”

  “Oops,” said Lieutenant Lopez, taking another look inside the van. “Are you sure? Maybe he got thrown from the vehicle and these are just employees.”

  “Captain Czerinski is going to be upset,” advised Corporal Tonelli. “There was a reward posted for the Cable Guy.”

  “Captain Czerinski will get over it,” said Lieutenant Lopez. He removed a bundle of hundred dollar bills found in the glove box and placed it in his inside coat pocket. “Whoever it is we killed were up to no good anyway, so it’s no big loss. We will use the armored car to push the van off the highway and into the woods.”

  G.E. watched the legionnaires drive away. They were laughing and having a grand old time. It would take a while, but G.E planned to hike to his crashed shuttle. He would salvage more weapons and explosives. The human pestilence would pay for killing his comrades.

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  CHAPTER 10

  In the spring, the bridge was completed connecting Finisterra with East Finisterra. Road crews were now extending the North Highway to the Arctic Circle. General Kalipetsis obtained federal funding for a sewer and garbage treatment plant and reactor that produced electricity. Officials in New Memphis had complained about Finisterra dumping so much sewage and garbage into their river. The Feds even paid for a garbage truck and a sanitary engineer.

  Also completed was the city jail. The public was asked to bring misdemeanants to the jail rather than shooting and throwing them into the river. We still had no judge, and the sanit
ary engineer refused to do two jobs. He’s a member of the Teamster’s Union, and Teamsters don’t do anything extra.

  Elmo, a habitually drunk spider, held the distinction of being the first inmate trustee at the new city jail. Elmo’s cell was never locked, and he came and went as he pleased. One of Elmo’s jobs in the morning was to wash the Legion’s armored car. It amazed Elmo how muddy the human pestilence could get that car in just one day. Even so, Elmo was in a good mood and looked forward to starting the day. He took pride in his work, no matter how tedious the task. As Elmo approached the city garage, he hissed a human tune he had heard on the radio. Next to the armored car Elmo noticed a shopping bag. Elmo picked up the bag to look inside. A bomb, rigged with a mercury switch, killed Elmo instantly.

  * * * * *

  A surveillance camera in front of City Hall had recorded General Electric loitering in front of the garage at about 0330 hours. “Why does he have purple spots on his face?” I asked, replaying the tape again.

  “I can think of no ailment my species has that would so afflict him,” replied Private Washington.

  “Does anyone here recognize this guy?” I asked. “No offense, but you spiders sometimes all look the same to me.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I thought we wiped out the insurgents. Everyone is a happy camper now.”

  “There is still a lot of hostility across the river in East Finisterra,” said Sergeant Green. “They think there is less gold over there and that the Legion screwed them. Could that spider on the video be one of the Arthropodan marines we let go and sent across the river?”

  “I played the tape back again. “That might be Team Leader #4, AKA General Electric,” I said. “After his phony lawsuit went bust, he dropped out of sight. But what happened to his face?”

  “War paint?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.

  “Spiders do not paint themselves purple,” said Private Washington. “It looks like it was splattered on him.”

  “Maybe he robbed a bank, and a purple dye pack exploded in his face,” suggested Corporal Ceausescu.

  “Damn,” said Lieutenant Lopez. He took the bundle of hundred dollar bills out of his coat pocket and threw it down on the table. “That explains this money I found in that van we thought belonged to the Cable Guy. It must have been General Electric’s van, and he survived the attack.”

  “You were holding out on us,” complained Corporal Tonelli.

  “And he tried to get revenge on the drivers of the armored car,” I said. I turned to Corporal Kool. “Put out an all points bulletin for General Electric and attach that video. I am sure someone has seen him. Lieutenant Lopez, take the armored car to East Finisterra and ask around about General Electric. If you find any of the spiders from his old unit, arrest them for questioning.”

  “East Finisterra is a rough place to be poking around,” commented Sergeant Green.

  “General Electric isn’t going to wait for us to find him,” I said. “We need to rout him out before he strikes again.”

  “Are we cops now?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “This is bullshit. We need to get a sheriff.”

  “I’ll put an ad in the paper,” I said. “You are right. We need someone else doing police work. But it’s the Legion’s job to hunt down terrorists. We will do it.”

  “Can I be the sheriff?” asked Private Williams. “I always wanted to be a police officer.”

  “No,” I answered.

  “Oh come on. Why not?” asked Private Williams. “It would be a blast.”

  “Because you are an idiot,” said Sergeant Green.

  “The military can’t be the police. I think that law is in the Constitution,” I said. “However, whoever the sheriff is going to be, he will need deputies. I will appoint you to be a special liaison deputy for the Legion.”

  “What is a liaison?” asked Private Williams.

  “You will be my spy at the Sheriff’s Office,” I promised.

  * * * * *

  After crossing the bridge, the armored car sped through the streets of East Finisterra. Pedestrians scattered. An occasional bullet would ping off the armor. Lieutenant Lopez, riding up front, told Private Washington to not slow down for any reason. Sergeant Green rode up in the turret. As they rounded a corner, they were met with automatic weapons fire coming from a walled residence. An explosion left blue smoke obscuring the roadway. A red smoke flare went off. Private Washington did a hard right turn and crashed through a gate and wall into a patio area. Armed spiders scattered. Sergeant Green fired the cannon, blasting a hole in the house. He followed up with machine gun fire. Glass from windows flew everywhere. Spiders tossed their assault rifles down and ran for cover or surrendered.

  “Don’t shoot!” yelled a well dressed spider, arms raised above his head. “I surrender.”

  “Up against the wall,” ordered Sergeant Green. “All of you.”

  “What is the meaning of this outrage?” asked the well dressed spider. “Why did you destroy my home?”

  “Shut up!” said Sergeant Green. “I will ask the questions. Who is in charge of the insurgency? I want names or else.”

  Lieutenant Lopez and the other legionnaires jumped out of the armored car and began searching spiders and stacking weapons. “Check the house,” he ordered.

  “We are not insurgents,” said the well dressed spider. “I am the Mayor of East Finisterra. This is my daughter’s wedding you just destroyed.”

  “What?” said Sergeant Green. “I have beachfront property in Arizona I will sell anyone who believes that. You were shooting at us. What about all these weapons?”

  “Since when is it a crime to fire your assault rifle harmlessly into the air?” asked the Mayor of East Finisterra. “We have Constitutional rights. We were just celebrating. No one shot at you.”

  “If this is a wedding, where are the bride and groom?” asked Sergeant Green.

  Two spiders came out from hiding under a table and waved a white bridal veil as a flag of surrender. “Don’t kill us. We give up.”

  “Where is the wedding cake?” asked Sergeant Green.

  The mayor picked up a large smashed cake from the ground and brought it to Sergeant Green. “Some of it is still good. Want some?”

  “You think you have answers for everything?” asked Sergeant Green, as he took a paper plate with cake on it. The mayor passed out plates of cake to the other legionnaires. “This is pretty good cake.”

  “Do you have any ice cream?” asked Guido. “I think it’s a little dry.”

  “The ice cream got run over,” said the mayor.

  “How about some champagne or beer?” asked Guido.

  “Shut up,” said Sergeant Green. Then he turned to the mayor. “Sorry about all of this. Is anyone hurt? We have a medic with us.”

  More spiders ventured out of the rubble. No one was killed. A few were banged up a bit, mostly scratches and bruises. The bride’s wedding gown was ruined.

  “Who is going to pay for what you did to my home?” asked the mayor. “Why are you here? The Legion never comes to this side of the river. Bandits run loose everywhere. The one time you cross the river, you blow up my house?”

  “I’ve been here plenty of times,” said Sergeant Green. “And I always get shot at.”

  “Take what we owe you from this,” offered Lieutenant Lopez, handing the mayor a bundle of hundred dollar bills from the bank robbery. “There should be more than enough.”

  “Thank you very much,” said the mayor. “You also owe me for pain and suffering. Do you legionnaires always carry around this much money?”

  “Of course we do,” replied Lieutenant Lopez. “We are all rich Americans.”

  Private Washington passed out photos of General Electric. “Has anyone seen this terrorist?” he asked. “You will recognize him from the purple dye on his face and hands. He is wanted for murder. There is a substantial reward for General Electric, dead or alive.”

  “He hangs out at the Only Tavern with a bunch of thug
s,” replied the mayor. “If you want, I will issue an Order of Banishment for him and his associates. I was thinking about doing it anyway.”

  “We will go to the Only Tavern and arrest him,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I will contact you later if I need your help.”

  “Next time just ring the door bell,” said the mayor. Human pestilence have no manners.

  * * * * *

  The Only Tavern was on the edge of town. The parking lot was packed with cars and trucks parked everywhere. Private Washington parked the armored car by the front door in a handicapped space.

  “You can’t park there,” said Private Williams. “It’s just wrong.”

  “Are you afraid of getting a ticket?” asked Corporal Tonelli. “Who would write us a ticket?”

  “Shut up you two,” said Sergeant Green. “I am tired of your noise.”

  The crowd parted as they walked in. Lieutenant Lopez showed a spider bartender a photo of General Electric. “Seen him?” he asked. “I heard he comes here a lot.”

  “Yes. But not today,” said the bartender. “Would you like a drink? It’s on the house.”

  “How about his friends?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.

  “They’re at the corner table playing poker,” answered the bartender.

  Lieutenant Lopez approached the table of spiders playing poker. “Where is your team leader?” he asked. “I have a warrant for his arrest.”

  “He is not our team leader anymore,” said a large spider, throwing down his cards and taking a drink. “#4 got half of us killed, and the rest of us marooned on this rock. Now he is off somewhere having issues.”

  “Aren’t you all mining for gold?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.