“Fine. You may have your rank back. But, you will stay in New Gobi, and you will cooperate with our precautions to keep you alive. I don’t think your being wounded at the riot was a coincidence. We are reviewing videos of the incident.”
“Of course. I do not want me to die just yet, either. The two of us are going to get rich together. God bless America, and God bless the Legion.”
* * * * *
General Kalipetsis called to clarify a few matters and to make sure my command was not spiraling out of control. He really seemed concerned. “A news blackout of the Wheat Farmers Massacre will remain in effect,” he announced. “I think you have made your point with Phil Coen. You can release him now. Channel Five World News Tonight is just not the same without Phil doing the commentary. He is an American icon, don’t you know?”
“I had him shot,” I responded. “At dawn.”
“What?” yelled the general. “You did what? Tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m joking, sir,” I answered.
“Very funny. When Coen gets out, send him to my office in New Phoenix for a little chitchat. Cultivating good relations with the press is important. You would do well to realize that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I got a fax stating you are returning Laika Barker’s lieutenant commission. You do not have that authority.”
“I know that,” I replied. “That is why I signed your signature.”
“That’s not funny,” fumed General Kalipetsis. “You are on better terms with Barker now? You are not the forgiving type.”
“We are on marvelous terms. Barker has been a great help to me in counter-insurgency matters. Did you hear Barker was seriously wounded by shrapnel during the Wheat Farmers Riot?”
“I was not aware of that,” said General Kalipetsis.
“He is a hero now. I may even pin a medal on him.”
“Will he recover soon?”
“I hope so. He is still in the hospital in stable condition.”
“I’ll approve orders returning Barker’s rank to second lieutenant,” advised General Kalipetsis. “Send my personal get well soon, along with his Purple Heart Award. But keep a careful eye on him.”
“I am sure Lieutenant Barker will appreciate your gesture. Thank you, sir. Don’t worry. I’m keeping Lieutenant Barker on a short leash.”
* * * * *
AP News Release
New Memphis, Planet New Colorado – There was a flurry of activity today outside the newly built offices of esteemed and bonded New Memphis bookie Babloo Srivastava VII. Initial reports that controversial legionnaire Lieutenant Laika Barker died from a grenade blast during the recent Wheat Farmers Riot in New Gobi caused a run on the bookie house by gamblers hoping to cash in. However, Legion sources confirm that Lieutenant Barker is alive and recovering nicely from his injuries. It appears there has been heavy betting on Lieutenant Barker’s life. Rumors are that Srivastava will be liable for over two hundred million dollars if Lieutenant Barker manages to stay alive two more months.
The Legion has complained about such wagering, describing it as barbaric to wager on a human’s life. “It is a throwback to the gladiator fights of ancient Rome,” commented General Kalipetsis, Military Governor of New Colorado. “However, not much can be done about it at this time. New Memphis is jointly administered by the Arthropodan Empire and the United States Galactic Federation. A lack of agreement between the two governments has led to a jurisdictional roadblock to gambling reform in New Memphis.”
Colonel Czerinski, Barker’s commanding officer, reported that Lieutenant Barker is resting comfortably in satisfactory condition after sustaining serious wounds during the Wheat Farmers Riot. Lieutenant Barker was awarded his second Purple Heart for injuries sustained from several grenade blasts. Lieutenant Barker was saved by his Legion flack jacket and helmet.
Colonel Czerinski also disclosed that soon a joint Legion and Arthropodan task force will address the lawlessness, jurisdictional problems, and narco-insurgency funded and based in New Memphis. “The Legion frowns upon wagering on the lives of its officers,” said Colonel Czerinski. “This will not be tolerated.”
When asked if the recent bombing of the booking offices of Babloo Srivastava VII could be traced to the Legion Space Weapons Platform T. Roosevelt, Colonel Czerinski said, “That matter is being investigated.”
There are unconfirmed reports that rogue Legion elements bombed Babloo’s offices in retaliation for the controversial betting line on Lieutenant Barker. Babloo, when asked to comment said, “Betting lines on all Legion officers are closed. I want nothing but good relations with the Legion. We are, however, required to honor all previous bets.”
* * * * *
Phil Coen visited General Kalipetsis at his office in New Phoenix to express appreciation for his release from jail and the dropping of all charges. They both promised not to overreact in the future, and to be more sensitive to each other’s job responsibilities. The meeting ended cordially with General Kalipetsis escorting Phil to his cab.
Coen’s cameraman hung back, loitering by General Kalipetsis’ office door. Earlier, the cameraman taped the door latch so it would not lock when closed. He quickly let himself back into the office. Producing a small aerosol spray can from a pouch, the cameraman sprayed all of General Kalipetsis’ expensive tropical plants. The aerosol, sold under the ancient trademark brand Agent Orange, advertised that small doses would kill any weed or obnoxious plant of any size, type, or galactic origin.
Coen’s cameraman agreed to do me this one small favor if I agreed to release him and Coen. Call the demise of Kalipetsis’ plants a small but well-deserved payback.
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Chapter 16
Weapons Loading Technician Team Leader #39 of the newly built Arthropodan Space Air Wing Carrier Emperor’s Claw read the computer printout. The Air Wing would be dropping lots of practice ordinance on the moon today, keeping Tech Team Leader #39 very busy. The entire fleet was on training maneuvers around New Colorado, breaking in its newest space warships. It was Tech #39’s job to coordinate the loading of ordinance onto the Air Wing fighters. All the logistical assignments on the printout appeared to be routine except one. A nuke was scheduled to be loaded onto an Air Wing fighter piloted by a junior officer new to the Emperor’s crew. Tech #39 confronted the junior officer, who was already seated in his fighter, doing preflight checks.
“What is this?” demanded Tech #39, waving the printout. “What are you going to do with that nuke?”
“I am going to light up the moon,” answered the pilot. “This is a practice run for a bigger light display scheduled in celebration of Queen Rainbow’s upcoming birthday. Do not worry. It is only a small nuke. Later I get to explode a big one.”
“This is highly unusual to be checking out a nuke on such short notice,” commented Tech #39. “Who approved this?”
“You have the computer printout,” said the pilot, curtly. “Remember, computers never lie.”
“Only fools and junior pilots believe that,” grumbled Tech #39, storming off to find someone in the chain of command to complain to. He called the armory on the intercom. “Who authorized a nuke to be taken out of inventory and put on a fighter?”
“The order came from the fleet commander himself,” answered the armory team leader.
“Then I want the commander’s signature,” insisted Tech #39.
“I just follow orders,” advised the armory team leader. “If you want to call the fleet commander and demand his signature, go right ahead. I will not stop you!” The armory team leader slammed down the intercom receiver, annoyed at the officiousness of some team leaders when they get a little authority.
Intelligentsia State Security and Political Officer #4 overheard #39 vent his concerns. #4 listened carefully, then sounded an alarm. A security team was immediately ordered to the fighter launch hangers. As the team arrived, another alarm sounded. Hanger doors opened, allowing the cold vacuum of space to envelop t
he hanger launch bay and work zones. Technicians scrambled for the safety of emergency airlocks. Others were swept out into space.
An Air Wing fighter, piloted by a junior officer that no one recognized, catapulted out the hanger door. The fighter swerved sharply toward New Colorado. The Emperor’s Claw radar soon lost its track on the fighter as it entered the planet’s atmosphere over the human pestilence side of New Colorado.
The pilot broadcast a mayday distress call to Legion air defense tracking stations, claiming mechanical difficulties. The pilot stated he hoped to make an emergency landing on the flats of the New Gobi Desert. Later, the Air Wing fighter was found by Arthropodan marines, abandoned near Redrock. Its lone nuke ordinance was missing, along with its junior pilot. Jeep tracks at the scene led to Redrock.
* * * * *
“The President has rejected our plans for a joint military task force to clean out New Memphis,” announced General Kalipetsis. “He has visions of tanks rolling down Casino Row, and does not like that image, especially during the middle of the tourist season.”
“But we have to do something,” I insisted. “The narco-insurgency is being funded and led from New Memphis.”
“The President says that New Memphis is the crown jewel of New Colorado prosperity and interspecies cooperation. He does not want to risk turning New Memphis into a battlefield, again.”
“Can’t we just ignore the President, like usual, and clean out New Memphis anyway? New Colorado is a long way from Old Earth.”
“Usually I would say yes,” answered General Kalipetsis. “But I can only ignore the President’s directives if the President is ignoring me. Right now, the President is focused on New Colorado. In fact, the President plans to visit New Colorado during Queen Rainbow’s birthday celebration. It seems the First Lady is enamored with the Queen and wants to meet her in person. Go figure.”
“Can we at least assist the New Memphis Sheriff in targeting suspected narco-insurgent leaders and assets?”
“If you obtain arrest warrants, you may assist the Sheriff’s Department, if they request your assistance,” answered General Kalipetsis. “Don’t worry, I’ll sign any arrest warrant you need.”
“This is not a police matter,” I argued. “We are fighting an insurgency. This is a war.”
“Just tone it down until after the President and First Lady leave. The only light show I want to see is fireworks, not you setting off more nukes.”
“I don’t even have access to nukes anymore.”
“There are going to be some high-level diplomatic announcements made soon, and I do not need you being a distraction.”
“What announcements?” I asked. “Are the First Ladies going to bake birthday cakes together?”
“The Emperor plans to phase in democracy,” explained General Kalipetsis. “He is forming a Parliament that will elect a Prime Minister with real power.”
“That will be the day,” I said. “It won’t happen. The Emperor will never give up power.”
“Informed sources insist that the Emperor thinks the peasantry is finally educated enough to be capable of forming a limited representative government,” insisted General Kalipetsis. “It’s a start in the right direction. The President believes the Emperor is sincere in wanting to relinquish some of his absolute power in favor of the rule of law.”
“Dream on. The spiders are not capable of democracy because of their ingrained insect mentality and nature. Hell, we humans can barely manage our own democracy, and we invented it.”
“We’ll see. There’s one other thing I want you to look into. The spiders have deployed a lot of marines to Redrock. It may have something to do with a space fighter we tracked on radar that crashed nearby. They sent a lot more troops than what is necessary for mere search and rescue. Find out what they are up to.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * * * *
“I want a cat,” said Valerie. “I do not like being turned off when you are busy or insist on your privacy. I think a cat keeping me company will help me pass the time.”
“What good would a cat be?” I asked. “A cat cannot see you.”
“A cat could see me if we embedded receiver chips in its bones,” explained Valerie. “It would be the same technology you use to see me. Any veterinarian could do it, if we gave him the specs.”
“You’re serious? Okay. This should be an interesting conversation I have with the vet.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” said Valerie, giving me a hug. “You well need to buy another transmitter. Perhaps it can be attached to the cat’s collar.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about using your new technology for other applications,” I said. “Are there more brain imprint memorials at your cemetery that would like to interact with the living?”
“Most prefer to stay among their own,” answered Valerie. “Especially if they knew each other before they died.”
“There are a lot of lonely legionnaires out here on humanity’s frontier. Do you think you could recruit some brain imprint memorial babes? They would make perfect girlfriends for legionnaires.”
“You want prostitutes!” accused Valerie. “Is that what you consider me? A virtual reality whore?”
“No, of course not, dear,” I said. “But you have to admit there is a fortune to be made if we do this right. There are even military applications. Every soldier could have a brain imprint adviser follow him or her into combat. The extra set of eyes would give our troops quite an advantage.”
“Would you take me into combat?” asked Valerie.
“No!” I replied. Immediately I knew that was the wrong answer, but I wasn’t thinking.
“Bastard!” said Valerie. “I know you. You just want to pimp us out to the galaxy. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have already bought your own cemetery. You are cold and heartless.”
“Buy my own cemeteries?” I asked, innocently. I was stunned that Valerie anticipated my business ventures. “What is the harm of owning a few cemeteries? Someone has to do it.”
“You did buy a cemetery!” accused Valerie, accessing my recent real estate filings on the database. “I cannot talk to you anymore today. Get my cat! I want an orange striped long-hair tomcat kitten. His name will be Fuzzy!”
* * * * *
“I demand that the Legion release all political prisoners held in your gulags,” said Desert Claw. “If you fail to do so by the end of the week, I will destroy New Gobi City with a nuclear bomb.”
“I keep changing my cell phone number,” I commented. “But you keep getting through to me anyway. How do you do that? Do you have spies working at the phone company?”
“Did you hear me?” shouted Desert Claw. “I now have the bomb!”
“I doubt that,” I said. “And the Legion does not hold political prisoners.”
“Check with the Arthropodan Supreme Commander,” suggested Desert Claw. “I stole the nuke from their Air Wing. You will find their stolen fighter crashed north of Redrock.”
“That mayday call was you?” I asked. “You have just one nuke?”
“One nuclear bomb is more than enough for my purposes,” threatened Desert Claw. “Release my freedom fighters. I will provide you with a list of who I want.”
“The United States Galactic Federation does not negotiate with terrorists. That has been our established policy for centuries. I am not authorized to alter our policy.”
“You had better!” warned Desert Claw. “How about if I blow up the Queen’s birthday party? You will negotiate or risk a galactic diplomatic incident.”
“You can kill as many spiders as you want,” I replied. “I really don’t care how many get cooked.”
“Your President and his family will be here soon,” said Desert Claw. “Maybe I will nuke them all together.”
“The President can be replaced. That’s why we have a Vice President. I think the Vice President would do a better job anyway. That’s the half of the ticket I voted for.”
“You tr
uly do not care about the safety of your head of state?” asked Desert Claw, incredulous. “Perhaps I should just nuke Laika Barker. I bet you care about his welfare.”
“I thought you were trying to negotiate amnesty,” I said. “Don’t you know nuclear blackmail automatically disqualifies you? It’s the law.”
“You will soon be very sorry if you do not take my demands seriously,” insisted Desert Claw.
“If you want to be taken seriously, you need to keep your demands reasonable. I cannot just empty the prisons of terrorists. But, just between you and me, let’s talk money. I can offer you a split of the Lieutenant Barker payoff if you help me keep him alive just one more month. I can beat any offer Babloo made you on Barker’s life, and it will be easy money. Just don’t kill Barker, and provide me with intelligence on future plots.”
“Your money is nothing compared to the wealth of the whole planet,” said Desert Claw. “I want it all.”
“I’ll pay fifteen million dollars to keep Lieutenant Barker alive,” I offered. “Interested?”
“You have a deal,” answered Desert Claw, greedily. “But I still want amnesty.”
“Only if you promise to retire,” I said. “Your megalomaniac plots have to stop.”
“Fine,” said Desert Claw. “We have an agreement between you and me on Laika Barker. No one else is safe.”
“I want a truce for New Memphis and all of the New Gobi,” I demanded. “I want no more Wheat Farmer Riots. I have you on tape at that riot. Another indictment would skew any chance of your amnesty ever being approved by General Kalipetsis.”
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 5: Insurgency Page 11