AMERICA’S GALACTIC FOREIGN LEGION
Book 22: Blue Powder War
by Walter Knight
In the twenty-second installment of this preposterous science fiction series, Colonel Joey R. Czerinski still has his hands full, trying to keep the drug trade and the Arthropodan spider commander under control on planet New Colorado. After Major Manny Lopez used the time machine to bring two grade-A cookers from the past to concoct a special recipe of blue powder to be distributed on New Colorado, the drug trade has really exploded.
With Legion enlistments down, the draft is reinstituted, and Czerinski plucks likely victims from every quarter as his Polish ancestry rears its ugly head in the form of a Polish drug cartel. Struggling to get the drug lords on New Colorado under control, Czerinski lands in more trouble with more bad press. The Butcher of New Colorado is as unaware and ineffectual as ever in handling the situation. Can he keep it together long enough to make another successful wager on football, this time a game between guards and prisoners at the local jail?
Familiar faces make appearances along with new ones – including a talking groundhog. Has Czerinski’s insanity rendered him the only one who can understand what Mr. Groundhog has to say? Even as the war on drugs draws to a close and Czerinski contemplates retirement from the glorious life of a legionnaire, the laughs continue! He’s in for the duration.
AMERICA’S GALACTIC FOREIGN LEGION
Book 22: Blue Powder War
by Walter Knight
Licensed and Produced through
Penumbra Publishing
http://PenumbraPublishing.com
ELECTRONIC EDITION
EBOOK ISBN/EAN-13: 978-1-938758-46-1
Copyright 2015 Walter Knight
All rights reserved
Also available in PRINT ISBN/EAN-13: 978-1-938758-47-8
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, planets, asteroids, alien species, evil empires, galaxies far, far way, or future events and incidents, are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or aliens, living or dead, events or locales including those on Mars and New Colorado, is entirely coincidental.
Licensing Note: This ebook is licensed and sold for your personal enjoyment. Under copyright law, you may not resell, give away, or share copies of this book. You may purchase additional copies of this book for other individuals or direct them to purchase their own copies. If you are reading this book but did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, out of respect for the author’s effort and right to earn income from the work, please contact the publisher or retailer to purchase a legal copy.
Go to Table of Contents
~BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR~
America’s Galactic Foreign Legion series
Book 1: Feeling Lucky
Book 2: Reenlistment
Book 3: Silent Invasion
Book 4: Demilitarized Zone
Book 5: Insurgency
Book 6: Culture War
Book 7: Enemies
Book 8: Allies
Book 9: Scorpions
Book 10: Peacekeepers
Book 11: Cemetery City
Book 12: The Ark
Book 13: Salesman from Mars
Book 14: Embassy War
Book 15: Lieutenant Columbus
Book 16: Galactic Disney (coauthor James Boedeker)
Book 17: Randal Telk (coauthor James Boedeker)
Book 18: First Contact
Book 19: ATM
Book 20: Time Machine
Book 21: Breaking Very Bad
Vampire in the Outfield
Zombie Missouri
~ACKNOWLEDGEMENT~
I dedicate America’s Galactic Foreign Legion – Book 22: Blue Powder War to America’s police officers, the most professional police officers in the world. It’s their job to protect your ass, not to kiss it.
Thanks to all the folks at Penumbra Publishing. It’s been a wild ride!
AMERICA’S GALACTIC FOREIGN LEGION
Book 22: Blue Powder War
by Walter Knight
Chapter 1
I am Colonel Joey R. Czerinski, Butcher of New Colorado, commander of United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion troops garrisoned at New Gobi City on planet New Colorado, and savior of humanity many times over. I face the evil Arthropodan Empire across the DMZ in an uneasy truce. I keep the peace by being diplomatic and opened-minded about those scum-bag spiders and their evil creepy-crawly ways, maintaining a weekly dialog with their commander about border issues, of which there are many.
Today the spider commander made his usual frivolous accusations about blue powder drug addiction spreading among spider citizens. He blames humanity for illegal importation of blue powder, and me specifically for complicity with drug dealers. It’s all false. I know nothing of drugs. I once tried marijuana as a youth, but did not inhale. It’s not my fault spiders are a bunch of unrestrained crackheads. What can I do? I’m not a cop. Yet the spider commander’s conspiracy theories are endless. I have repeatedly assured him there is no Legion plot to destroy Arthropodan culture by targeting their hatchlings with blue powder – at least not recently. Nevertheless, he remains unconvinced.
I agreed to humor the fool by taking a tour of a spider neighborhood inundated with blue powder, to prove his complaints were unfounded.
“I blame your entire corrupt culture,” accused the spider commander as we walked through the spider slum known as the Web. Female crack-ho spiders motioned to us from doorways, trying to sell their wares. Shots echoed down an alley. Spider marines rushed to investigate. “It starts at Thanksgiving with your tryptophan-laced fowl meals, and ends on Christmas with blue powder bundles and fruitcake under your stolen Christmas trees!”
“We call them holiday trees now,” I corrected.
“Drug depravity runs in your DNA!”
“Sobriety was a problem on Arthropoda long before first contact,” I countered, eying one of the crack-hoes in an unguarded slip of weakness. “Don’t use humanity as a scapegoat for your exoskeleton inferiority issues.”
“You are a runaway beer truck. I suspect you are drunk even now.”
“Nonsense. If I know I’m going to be hungover in the morning, I don’t get up until noon.”
“The Emperor has ordered containment of the blue powder cancer on New Colorado, before it spreads to our home world,” continued the spider commander. “The time to act is now.”
“Good luck with that.”
“His Majesty authorized preemptive strikes on both sides of the DMZ,” explained the spider commander. “I expect Legion cooperation. Either you are with us, or you are part of the problem.”
“Stay on your side,” I warned, quoting Legion policy on alien trespass.
“You are part of the problem, as I suspected.”
“I am as alarmed by rampant drug use as anyone, but you will respect American sovereignty, and not bomb us. There will be no preemptive strikes across our border.”
“By treaty, I am allowed to pursue criminals to whatever rock they scurry under, regardless of lines in the sand. The Emperor already negotiated the matter with your President, who contacted General Daly. It is settled. You will cooperate.”
“Can’t you wait until after the elections to start a war?”
“That is why you human pestilence need an emperor. You have no political will. You just blow whichever way the breeze blows. If you faced death more often, you would reassess your priorities.”
“You know nothing. Death, taxes, and democracy are the backbone of Ameri
ca.”
“If voting made a difference, they wouldn’t let you do it. I demand action now.”
“I’ll contact the sheriff to coordinate rounding up local drug dealers. That’s the most I can promise.”
“I favor airstrikes on the Web, wiping out those deviants once and for all. The governor favors a less public, gentler final solution. I propose rounding up the crack-heads and herding them across the border to your gulags, where they will be worked to death.”
“America does not have gulags.”
“Liar!” accused the spider commander, checking the Galactic Data Base on his communications pad. “Siberia and Alaska are full of gulags. So is your South Pole!”
“All we have is the New Gobi County Jail, and it’s full. You worry about your crackheads, I’ll worry about mine.”
“When the bombing starts, I expect you to seal the border to prevent escape. There will be no quarter on our side. You had better come up with a plan to stop drug trafficking south of the border, or else.”
“Whatever. Everyone has a plan until they get hit in the face.”
“Don’t you ‘whatever’ me!” shouted the spider commander, restrained by aides. “The galaxy is taking the war on drugs to a whole new level, whether you join us or not.”
“Stay on your side.”
* * * * *
General Daly called later in the day to confirm that the Legion was now enlisted in the War on Blue Powder, and that I was to personally assist local law enforcement. He wanted good press for a change, and threatened that I had better not screw it up.
“This very moment, the press is asking what the Legion is going to do about the blue powder crisis,” complained General Daly on the phone. “Well, Czerinski, what are you going to do?”
“Don’t sweat the press,” I replied dismissively. “When reporters interview each other like that, it’s like dogs sniffing each other’s butts. What kind of perspective are they going to get? None. It’s just what they do.”
“I want high-profile arrests flashed across the database news,” insisted General Daly. “I want blue powder drug dealers spanked so hard, it still burns after being thrown out airlocks. Do you understand? I want results.”
“I’m not a cop. What do I know about blue powder drug dealers? Besides, recruitment quotas are down. I need more legionnaires if you’re expanding my responsibilities, making me play border cop.”
“I’ve got good news for you on that account. Congress just reinstated the draft for all military branches. Reinforcements are on the way.”
“The Legion is a professional all-volunteer force.”
“Not anymore. Expect draftees soon. Go easy on them, try not to kill too many. It’s bad press when draftees get killed.”
“Everything in the New Gobi Desert pokes, stings, or bites. Circle of life.”
“Just do it!”
“I’m retiring soon.”
“Ha! Read the fine print of your enlistment contract, Colonel Czerinski. You’re in for the duration.”
“Yes, sir.”
Chapter 2
I met Sheriff Mike McCoy sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of the county jail, chewing on a straw. He spit chew at my feet, not happy to see me. The man holds a grudge forever.
“The answer is no.”
“I haven’t asked anything yet,” I protested. “Can’t we all just get along?”
“Shut up.”
“I love you too, McCoy. I’ve been ordered to clean up your blue powder mess. All I need from you is a name. Who’s the top dog in the blue powder racket?”
“That would be Aaron Kosminski of the Polish Cartel,” answered Sheriff McCoy incredulously. “Like you don’t know that. I heard you Polacks are thick as thieves.”
“I never heard of him,” I replied innocently. “Where can I find this Kosminski?”
“He runs a barbershop downtown, but it’s all just a front. Kosminski runs all the blue powder in New Gobi City.”
“If you know that, why haven’t you arrested him?”
“I’ve had Kosminski in custody many times, but he lawyers up, and no one ever lives to testify. I swear, you Polacks should never have been allowed past Mars.”
“Back at you, McCoy. The Legion will cut through all your legal red tape. Kosminski’s days on New Colorado are numbered.”
* * * * *
A Legion armored car crashed through the front door of Kosminski’s barbershop. Legionnaires quickly took the drug lord Kosminski into custody without further incident. Several customers were taken to the hospital for collateral damage.
“What is the meaning of this outrage?” cried Kosminski as he was pinned to the floor and handcuffed. “Who are you? You’re not cops. Where are your badges?”
“We don’t need no stinking badges,” advised my XO, Major Lopez. “You’re under arrest for being an undesirable on New Colorado, and an enemy combatant.”
“Bullshit. Last time I checked, this was still America. I’m an American citizen. I have Constitutional rights.”
“This is the DMZ,” scoffed Major Lopez. “Enemy combatants have no rights in a combat zone.”
“Call me a lawyer!”
“Really?”
“Now, damn it!”
“You’re a lawyer. Happy?”
“Who is your commanding officer?” asked Kosminski, still struggling. “I’ll have your job for this outrage.”
“Colonel Czerinski.”
“The Butcher of New Colorado?”
“The same.”
“No matter,” replied Kosminski, visibly worried. “I’m an upstanding businessman. Even Czerinski can’t arrest me for no reason. I know people in high places.”
“You’re a low-life bendaho drug dealer, a purveyor of blue powder death.”
“Drug use is a victimless crime.”
“Dealing blue powder a capital offense in the DMZ on both sides of the border. After you’re executed, the Arthropodan Empire will kill you again.”
“That’s double jeopardy!”
“Everyone is a jailhouse lawyer.”
“Can we make a deal?”
“Do you mean a bribe? Yes, of course.”
“How much?”
“Psych,” taunted Major Lopez. “All deals go through Colonel Czerinski.”
“I hope you have a family. No one testifies against me and lives to tell of it.”
“You threaten me?” bristled Major Lopez, reaching for his jagged combat knife before calming, returning to his usual stoic self. “You will talk to Czerinski soon enough.”
“You think you’re so powerful, hiding behind your Legion uniforms and armored cars. You’re nothing to me. You have the watches, but I’ve got the time!”
* * * * *
I let Kosminski spend a cold night in the Legion dungeon under my office before contacting him. Private Walter Knight keyed me through the first set of doors. I noticed Knight was reading one of his usual trashy science fiction paperbacks.
“What are you reading?” I asked.
“Breast Monsters From Jupiter,” he answered, quickly pocketing the paperback. “It’s a classic.”
“More porn?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How’s the prisoner been?” I asked, brushing past Knight. “Give you any trouble?”
“No trouble at all, sir. He’s read all my science fiction books, even Zombie Missouri.”
“Be careful. Kosminski is extremely dangerous. Let him kill you, and I’ll donate your body to science fiction.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Colonel Joey R. Czerinski!” called out Kosminski. “My brother Pole. I’m told we can make a deal?”
“No deals. Reporters are coming to take your picture and gawk. After a fair trial, you’ll be shot by firing squad.”
“If harm comes to me, I’ll skin you alive and wear your face. You, your family, and even your dog will die a horrible death. I’ll have you gutted and your entrails scattered in the street to
be eaten by rats.”
“I don’t have a dog.”
“Everyone you love will pay with their lives.”
“I have a cat,” I conceded. “You would murder my cat?”
“You think I’m playing?”
“No, but thanks for the warning,” I replied, drawing my pistol, aiming at Kosminski’s head. “Rest in piss.”
“You wouldn’t dare! My attorney is due here any minute.”
“You will never see the light of day,” I threatened, holstering my weapon and slamming the cell door. “I’ll be back!”
“Does that mean the press conference and photo-ops with the perp are canceled?” asked Private Knight, wanting to be on TV again. Book sales on Amazon were down. Any publicity was good publicity.
“For now. Kosminski gets no visitors until his blue powder connections are tortured out of him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Chapter 3
Aaron Kosminski lawyered up. High-priced attorney William B. Ferguson confronted me at my office, demanding to see his client. He puffed out his chest in a showy display of bravado and arrogance, every minute he argued adding to his retaining fee.
“Kosminski is indisposed,” I explained reasonably, “until we’re finished with his interrogation.”
“Your interrogation is over!” fumed Ferguson. “My client is exercising his Constitutional right to remain silent.”
“There are national security issues. You’re not seeing him today.”
“Holding prisoners incognito is an outrage, even for the Legion.”
“Actually, it’s our specialty. No one sees Kosminski until he’s been waterboarded. It’s a Legion tradition, all legal, even written somewhere in the Constitution.”
“I’ll have a judge release Kosminski before you can say habeas corpus,” threatened Ferguson, getting red in the face. “I want to see Kosminski now!”
“Habeas what?” I asked, checking my database pad for legal terms.
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