“That reminds me. I have a survey team missing. A locator beacon on their truck shows it is now in the human zone of Camp Alaska.”
“All I care about is that the border gets established quickly. If your survey team got lost or killed, you handle it. Get another team out there.”
* * * * *
“What are they doing now?” asked Private Krueger, as he watched the spiders across the fence digging up the streets. “Are they digging more tunnels and bunkers?”
“Spiders live to dig,” advised Private Camacho. “It’s in their DNA. They can’t resist the chance to dig, like dogs digging for a bone.”
“I’ll ask them,” said Corporal Tonelli, walking up to the spider guard shack. “Are you digging for gold? There’s no gold this far north. Everyone knows that.”
“We are putting in cables for more Cable TV,” replied the spider guard. “It’s much superior to your state controlled Satellite TV.”
“But Cable TV is illegal,” announced Guido, shocked and appalled. “I will have to report this!”
“I am so scared,” responded the spider guard. “Cable provides so many more movies and new releases. It is Satellite TV that should be illegal. Plus, we get the Disney Channel.”
“Liar,” said Private Camacho. “You don’t get the Disney Channel.”
“Who cares about cartoons?” asked Guido. “Goofy is lame.”
“We get the Discovery Channel, too,” boasted the spider guard.
“Satellite TV has the Discovery Channel,” argued Guido. “And all the football and soccer you could ever want.”
“Soccer is for pretty boys,” scoffed the spider guard. “Our Fleet Commander ordered the cable put in as soon as possible. He says your Satellite TV is contaminating our culture and brainwashing our babies. And, he says your Fox News Network is not fair and balanced.”
“That’s a lie!” shouted Guido.
“We have the Playboy Channel,” added Private Krueger. “Do you?”
“No,” answered the spider guard. “Do you really? I heard you have spiders on the Playboy channel, too.”
“Oh yeah,” said Private Krueger. “The Spiders Gone Wild gets pretty kinky.”
“Can we come over and watch sometime?” asked the spider guard.
“No,” said Guido. “You have to stay on your side.”
“Record it for me,” requested the spider guard.
“Okay,” said Private Krueger. “I can do that.”
“Is the Fleet Commander trying to start another war?” asked Guido. “You better tell them to stop that digging right now.”
“It will not happen,” said the spider guard. “The Fleet Commander does not want us watching human pestilence TV.”
“Doesn’t the Fleet Commander know the Cable Guy is a human, too?” asked Guido.
“Whatever,” said the spider guard. “No one has ever proved that.”
Guido got on the radio and reported the emergency to Lieutenant Lopez. “I warned them, and they refused to stop digging,” advised Guido. “The Fleet Commander himself ordered the installation of Cable TV throughout the spider zone.”
“Those bastards,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I’ll call in air strikes right away. Take cover.”
A Legion helicopter gunship appeared low on the horizon and destroyed the backhoe, and was actively searching for more targets when General Kalipetsis canceled the air strike, saying that this latest provocation would be brought up first thing during tomorrow’s negotiations. Lieutenant Lopez cursed all staff officers for being weak-kneed pansies and appeasers. “The whole lot should be replaced. Don’t they know half the North has been given away already? And now they’re allowing the Cable Guy to run rampant. Incompetents!” he fumed.
After the Helicopter gunship left, Guido waved a white flag from his bunker at the spider guard shack. The spider guard waved back. They all came out to discuss the situation.
“Guido, what’s up with bombing us?” asked the spider guard, shaking his claw. “I thought you were just kidding about starting a war over Cable TV. Are you human pestilence crazy, or what?”
“I got a call from Lieutenant Lopez,” said Guido. “He says he is sorry about the wrecked backhoe.”
“Not as sorry as the backhoe operator,” commented the spider guard. “Who is going to pay for all that damage?”
“Lieutenant Lopez sends his apologies about the air strike, and wants you to pass it along to your chain of command,” said Guido.
“Sure,” said the spider guard, glancing down the street at the damage and a small fire in one of the buildings. “Next time I have lunch with the Fleet Commander, I will pass it on that the human pestilence is real pissed about the Cable TV, but you’re sorry you bombed us.”
“No hard feelings?” asked Guido.
“Is our poker game still on for tonight?” asked the spider guard.
“You bet your ass it’s still on for tonight,” said Private Camacho. “Bring all the money you can afford to lose.”
“I have no hard feelings,” conceded the spider guard. “As long as you have no hard feelings when me and my crew take all your money!”
“Poker is a human game,” advised Private Krueger. “No spider is going to take our money.”
“Human pestilence cannot play poker,” replied the spider guard. “Your twitchy facial expressions give your hands away so easily.”
“Just bring cash,” said Guido. “I don’t take checks, credit cards, or American Express.”
“Hey, Guido,” said the spider guard. “What can you tell me about the Mafia, or the Black Hand?”
“What?” asked Guido. “Just because I’m Italian, you think I’m connected? That I’m a wise guy?”
“Spare me the innocence routine. I do not know anything about you Italians or wise guys. My team leader told me to ask you human pestilence about the Mafia. Well? What do you know about the Mafia?”
“The Mafia is a myth,” said Guido. “It’s nothing but an urban legend. It doesn’t exist. The Mafia is supposed to be an organized crime syndicate, but there is no such thing as organized crime. Maybe there used to be, but the Mafia never got past Mars. The Legion threw them all out an airlock.”
“And the Black Hand?” asked the spider guard. “What is that all about?”
“A black hand painted on a wall is just a warning,” said Guido. “Its intent is to intimidate.”
“Those gamblers I saw getting out of the black limousine,” said the spider guard. “Aren’t they Mafia?”
“No,” said Guido. “I told you. There is no such thing as the Mafia.”
“Are you sure?” asked the spider guard. “They looked like thugs. And they seemed organized.”
“Put it this way,” said Guido, in a lowered voice. “If those gamblers were Mafia, it would not be healthy for you and me to be having this conversation. It would be wise for you to shut your mouth and not be going around asking questions that could get you killed.”
“I see,” said the spider guard. “One last question. I am not saying that the Mafia exists, but, if the Mafia did exist, would it operate on Arthropoda, too?”
“Yes,” said Guido. “There has been smuggling and business conducted between our worlds a long time before a colony was established on New Colorado. Do you think humans have a monopoly on criminal activity?”
“I see,” said the spider guard. “Thank you for the insight. I will see you at the poker game.”
* * * * *
The spider team leader and his commandos easily crossed the fence into the human pestilence zone. The team’s mission was to find two GPS transmitters. The first transmitter had been found in the belly of a wolf. The second transmitter had been traced to a civilian truck repair shop in the human zone.
When the commandos broke into the shop, they found the missing survey truck. The team leader was disappointed at not finding the missing survey team. He was enraged when he found the truck riddled with large caliber bullet holes, and its cab s
plattered with blood. The team leader took photographs, then set a large explosive charge inside the truck. A timer would detonate the bomb at dawn. Hopefully, human pestilence culprits arriving for work in the morning would be killed by the blast.
* * * * *
Poker night happened on Saturday once a month in a large Legion tent located directly on the dividing line between the spider and human zones. Officers were not invited, especially human officers, all of whom were rumored to possess mind-reading technology. Poker players are such a paranoid lot to think such rumors could be true.
Both sides brought lots of alcohol. The public was invited, and oil workers, miners, and civilians of all sorts attracted by the loud music crowded the tent. Legionnaires were flush with cash, and spiders were eager to recoup their losses from the dragon fight wager.
By midnight, most of the spiders were winning, and most of the humans were losing. An exception was Private Camacho, who had a stack of money in front of him. Unfortunately for Private Camacho, spiders had better eyesight than humans. With at least eight eyes, a spider could see slight-of-hand card manipulation even when it appeared he was not paying attention. Private Camacho was caught dealing an ace to himself from the bottom of the deck.
“He cheats!” hissed a spider marine. The marine stabbed the ace with his combat knife and held it up for all to see. “How shall we kill him? I vote for slow and painful.”
“I swear I wasn’t cheating!” responded Private Camacho, looking about for help. “Sergeant Green! Help me! These spiders have gone crazy!”
Sergeant Green threw down his cards and tromped over to Camacho’s table. “Captain Czerinski will be upset if you kill him,” advised Sergeant Green. “Personally, I think the Legion would be better off if you gutted him here and now. But, just string Camacho up and let him hang for the rest of the night from a tent pole. Divide up his money between the other players at the table.”
The spider with the knife nodded his agreement and happily raked in the money. Two other spider marines quickly spun a cocoon around Private Camacho and hung him upside down from the roof of the tent. The game resumed as if nothing had ever happened.
Private Krueger staggered over to Camacho. “I told you not to cheat at a spider poker game,” snickered Private Krueger. “You want a beer?”
“I can’t drink beer upside down,” complained Private Camacho. “Man, this is messed up. Cut me down from here!”
“I can’t do it,” replied Private Krueger. “I can sympathize with you. I’ve been there, done that, and do not want to join you.”
“Fine,” said Private Camacho. “Give me the Cerveza. Maybe it won’t be so bad if I’m drunk.”
“It will be worse if you get drunk and puke,” advised Private Krueger, as he handed Camacho his beer.
Across the tent, a fight broke out. A spider marine made the mistake of calling Private Wayne a traitor. The spider legionnaire came up from the poker table brandishing a jagged combat knife in each hand. The other spider drew a knife, too. The spiders circled, occasionally feinting with their knives, trying to position themselves for an advantage. Sergeant Green ordered the two spiders to break it up, but was ignored. The knives whipped out in a blur of movement. When the two spiders stepped apart, the Arthropodan marine was missing his claw. That ended the fight. Private Wayne sat back down to his cards, and the spider marine folded his hand and left.
Private Krueger staggered over to Corporal Ceausescu and told her she had beautiful blue eyes. The medic told him to get lost. Then Private Krueger gulped down his vodka, and told one of the spider females she had beautiful red eyes. They left together, walking arm in arms, hand in claw.
Guido lost all his money. He stepped outside for some fresh air. The dragon handler from the fight was standing at the doorway, smoking a marijuana cigarette.
“Those are illegal,” advised Guido. “Can I have a hit?”
“Being arrested for pot is the least of my worries,” commented the spider marine, passing his joint to Guido. “The State Intelligentsia arrested me this morning. They wanted to know if the dragon fight was fixed.”
“What did you tell them?” asked Guido, taking another hit off the cigarette.
“I told them to go have sex with themselves in unnatural ways,” said the spider marine. “Then they tied me to a chair and injected me with truth drugs. They interrogated me all morning. I do not know what I told them. I assume I told them everything.”
“That is not good,” said Guido. “If I was you, I would take your money and immigrate to the human zone. Retire to a nice warm beach and drink margaritas all day.”
“I just might do that,” said the spider marine. “You might think of doing the same.”
“I can’t,” said Guido. “Desertion is a capital offense. The Legion would hunt me down.”
“Whatever,” said the spider marine, as he went back inside the tent.
* * * * *
During the early morning hours, Lieutenant Lopez and I did a walk-through at the poker game to see how things were going. The music stopped. All eyes were on us. The poker players stopped playing and put their cards face down on the tables. Someone played an old Earth song on the stereo: ‘Secret Agent Man.’ I cut Private Camacho down and took him into protective custody. When we left, the party and music resumed.
“How does it feel to be a cop?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.
“Shut up, Lopez,” I said. “Not another word. When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
“Policia!”
* * * * *
At dawn the poker game was ended by a large explosion in the human zone. Alerts went out to team leaders and sergeants, who gathered their soldiers and departed the poker party to man their positions along the Camp Alaska dividing fence. Soldiers on both sides cursed officers who would call an alert on Sunday morning.
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Chapter 4
“We should nuke New Memphis,” argued the Special Forces Commander. “New Memphis is the center of Mafia activity.”
“It is also a major inland port,” said the Fleet Commander. “Let’s not start a war quite yet.”
“I was just thinking out loud,” advised the Special Forces Commander. “But, we should do something to send the Mafia a message that we will not tolerate terrorism.”
“I agree,” said the Fleet Commander. “I will authorize a commando raid to hit the Bonanno organization. I leave the details of that raid to you. Do not get entangled with the Legion. Avoid open combat.”
“Thank you sir,” said the Special Forces Commander. “I will use the same team leader who made the successful raid on the truck shop.”
“That was good work,” said the Fleet Commander. “It sent a strong message to those responsible, but also left the Legion guessing as to what happened and why.”
“Why did the Legion kill our survey team?” asked the Special Forces Commander. “Their murders seem so pointless.”
“My spy suspects it was done by a local commander and was not a part of any particular Legion plan,” said the Fleet Commander. “Also, I am having the survey checked for accuracy. There is an important oil find just inside the human pestilence zone that might be contested.”
“You have a spy on General Kalipetsis’ staff?” asked the Special Forces Commander. “How did you do that?”
“All you need to know is that I have an information source inside the Legion,” said the Fleet Commander. “Who is not important. It never ceases to amaze me how much money means to the human pestilence. They have no sense of honor.”
* * * * *
Before the start of negotiations, the Special Forces Commander introduced me to his aide-de-camp Team Leader #1. The Team Leader held out his claw for a cordial shake. I refused, saying “Excuse me if I don’t shake your claw. It will be a cold day in Hell before that happens.”
“Rudeness at negotiations is unbecoming,” replied the Team Leader. “I will remember the slight.”
/> “Maybe Captain Czerinski is concerned you might have nerve agent applied to the tip of your claw,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “It’s been known to happen.”
“Are you accusing me of something?” asked the Team Leader. “I will not take your insults.”
“Deny involvement in the assassination attempt, and I will shoot you between your eight eyes,” I said. “No one will miss you.”
“Yes, I suspect you would shoot me,” said the Team Leader. “I studied your exploits in Special Tactics College. As one professional soldier to another, I have nothing but the utmost respect for you. Let us start our dialogue anew.”
“Why are we having this conversation?” I asked. “I suspect you just want to make sure you can pick me out of a crowd with your sniper’s scope.”
“I need a private conversation with you, Captain,” said the Special Forces Commander, glancing at Lieutenant Lopez. “It is about a very delicate matter.”
“I have no secrets from Lieutenant Lopez,” I said. “Say what it is you have to say.”
“Oh really?” said the Special Forces Commander. “And Lieutenant Lopez keeps no secrets from you?”
“That’s right,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “What is your problem?”
“On the contrary, I am sure you do keep secrets,” said the Special Forces Commander. “What happened to our survey team?”
“What survey Team?” I asked.
“Ask your Lieutenant,” said the Special Forces Commander. “He knows what happened to them.”
“I’ll talk to you about it later,” I said to Lopez. “Is there a point to all this?”
“So, Lopez does keep secrets from you,” said the Team Leader. “I find this amusing.”
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion Page 4