“You tried to kill the Fleet Commander over Gino,” said Battaglia. “He is still upset. That’s what caused this whole problem. Maybe you should just go away for a while so the rest of us can do business. Go south and retire somewhere sunny.”
“Is that what you want?” asked Bonanno, looking about at the other Mafioso in the room. “If they extradite me or drive me out, any one of you could be next. Think about that!”
“Why don’t we just whack the Emperor?” suggested Louis Gotti. “Our associates on Arthropoda are getting arrested daily. They are plenty upset at the Emperor. If we put a big enough price on the Emperor’s head, spider wise guys will be waiting in line to accept the contract.”
Everyone in the room stared at Louis Gotti and nodded in agreement. It was audacious to even suggest assassinating a head of state. Could Gotti make it happen? The little-known thug boss Consigliere from the docks, who mostly ran garbage and toxic waste rackets, was suddenly talking like a Capo. If Gotti pulled this off, he would be a Capo.
Gotti traveled personally to Arthropoda to take care of business, attending a galactic conference on the latest garbage and toxic waste technologies. He met with his esteemed contemporaries in the field and came to an expensive yet amicable agreement regarding their problem with the Emperor. The Emperor would be whacked. However, Gotti was arrested at the spaceport by the State Intelligentsia as he prepared to leave Arthropoda. They picked him up for general questioning because he was a human pestilence. After a small bribe, he was released.
* * * * *
“You will be happy to know I have been recalled to Arthropoda,” announced the Fleet Commander. “Negotiations will be turned over to Special Forces Commander #1.”
“I hope there are no serious problems or emergencies I should know about,” said General Kalipetsis. “All is well with your family?”
“There is nothing on Arthropoda that you need concern yourself about,” said the Fleet Commander.
“He is probably being promoted to Emperor,” joked Lieutenant Lopez. “Think about what a bigger pain in the ass he will be if that ever happened.”
“Do you know something about the Emperor’s health that I do not?” asked the Fleet Commander.
“No,” said Lieutenant Lopez, trying to keep a poker face. “I was just kidding.”
“Your attempt at humor regarding the Emperor’s health was poor,” replied the Fleet Commander. “Do not do it again. I am sure my recall is for routine discussions about the progress of these negotiations.”
“I’m sure,” said General Kalipetsis, frowning at Lieutenant Lopez.
“I meant no disrespect or ill will toward the Emperor,” said Lieutenant Lopez as he poured champagne into tall thin glasses for everyone at the table. “I propose a toast to the Emperor’s health! May he always get what he deserves.”
“Here, here,” said General Kalipetsis, as they clinked glasses.
“To the Emperor’s health,” said the Fleet Commander. “May the Empire be rewarded for his selfless efforts.”
“I have good news, too,” said General Kalipetsis. “The United States Galactic Federation and the Coleopteran Federation just signed a peace treaty. That means reinforcements will arrive soon, including a large space fleet.”
“I hope you are not thinking about using this change of events or my absence to plot more aggression,” warned the Fleet Commander. “Special Forces Commander #1 is quite capable and authorized to use whatever force is needed to thwart Legion adventurism.”
“When you get back here, you won’t recognize the place,” I promised. “I expect Legion Headquarters will be back in Camp Alaska, and your Fleet to be camping on the moon.”
“Your threats and lame attempt at humor are also ill advised,” warned the Fleet Commander. “I remind you that the Emperor has been in direct video communications with your President, and has been assured that the Legion will be reined in.”
“The President is a long ways away,” said General Kalipetsis. “The worm has turned.”
The Fleet Commander tapped his translation device a couple times as he departed for Arthropoda. Checking the human database for information about worms did not help his understanding of their slang.
After everyone left, I stayed to discuss things with General Kalipetsis. He gave me two small boxes. The first box contained a gold oak leaf for my promotion to major.
“You will be in charge of security for the New Memphis area,” said General Kalipetsis. “Good luck. This is not the only part of the planet that has problems. You will be on your own to handle most things.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “Was anything you said about a peace treaty with the Coleopteran Federation true?”
“Not a word,” sighed General Kalipetsis. “In fact, things are worse than ever on the Coleopteran Frontier. The President is prepared to withdraw from New Colorado, but I talked him out of it. I think doing so would embolden the spiders’ expansionist tendencies. We hold them here, or they won’t be held. As odd as it sounds, the spiders may still someday be an ally against the Coleopteran Federation. At the very least, we cannot afford to have a war on two fronts. Things will work out here on New Colorado. They have to. It will just take a while.”
“That’s great,” I said, doubtfully. “As long as I don’t get killed first. I don’t think the spiders like us that much. I know they don’t like me.”
“Some do. Some don’t. That other box is captain bars for Lopez,” said General Kalipetsis. “He’s a real go-getter.”
“I will hold on to these for a while,” I said, putting the box in a pouch. “I have some issues to work out with Lopez first.”
“Nothing serious I hope,” said General Kalipetsis. “You two have had each other’s back for a long time.”
“We’ll see,” I said. “He might get killed, anyway.”
* * * * *
A bribed servant at the Imperial Palace informed spider Mafioso ‘Big Legs’ that the imperial motorcade would be leaving the Palace at noon for a conference at the Coleopteran Embassy. The Emperor was concerned about rumors of a new treaty between the Coleopteran Federation and the human pestilence.
Along the route, Big Legs had set two powerful remote-controlled car bombs. Big Legs had a perfect view of the motorcade route from a fifth-floor apartment he rented last week. Big Legs waited with his sniper’s rifle by his side. The rifle probably would not be needed, but redundancy was Big Legs’ trademark. Another sniper hid in the bushes on a grassy berm in a park across the street.
At five minutes past noon, the seven-car motorcade and police escort sped down the main boulevard of Arthropoda. Big Legs had no trouble identifying which car carried the Emperor. The fool was waving to bystanders. As the Emperor’s car passed, the car bomb exploded. The large armored sedan was flipped onto its roof. Police drew their guns and charged into the park as a second bomb exploded.
The Emperor was pulled unconscious from his car by the Fleet Commander, who had been riding in the car behind. The Emperor lay motionless on the ground as chaos raged around them. The Emperor’s brother cradled the Emperor in his arms. Big Legs fired three quick shots. All three rounds struck the Emperor’s brother. One round went through the brother and fatally struck the already dying Emperor in the heart. Big Legs thought about killing the Fleet Commander, too, but had been told to only target members of the royal family.
Big Legs left his sniper’s rifle in the apartment and fled down the hall. He also left the outline of a human Black Hand painted on the wall near his rifle. Taking an elevator, Big Legs was confronted on the first floor by a lone police officer. The officer immediately demanded to see identification. Big Legs reached behind his back as if to pull out a wallet, but instead drew a pistol, shooting the police officer several times. Before dying, the fallen officer radioed for help. Video from the officer’s helmet camera of the assassin was immediately broadcast as Big Legs ran down an alley towards his car. Big Legs was captured by police a few blocks away.
The Fleet Commander helped place the two royals into an aid car. It would not do much good. Both were obviously dead. The front of the Fleet Commander’s uniform was covered in blood. Bodyguards escorted the Fleet Commander to an emergency session Legislative Assembly, where he addressed the entire Empire on TV.
“Our Emperor and his brother were savagely murdered minutes ago on the streets of our Capital. I swear vengeance on all those responsible. I am the sword of the Empire. I will personally sever the heads of all involved in this cowardly act.”
At first, Big Legs resisted interrogation. He was resistant to truth drugs because he had already taken his own drug cocktail. As his own medications wore off, however, Big Legs became more pliable. Big Legs claimed to be part of a huge conspiracy, but would only tell details to the Fleet Commander. Big Legs desperately hoped to make a deal for his life. As unlikely as it might seem, Big Legs thought his life could be spared in exchange for giving up those who ordered the assassination. As Big Legs was being escorted to the Emperor’s Palace, however, he was struck down by a single sniper’s bullet. The sniper escaped.
Intelligentsia investigators arrested all family members and associates of Big Legs. Big Legs’ movements and contacts for the last few weeks were traced to his recent attendance at the Garbage & Toxic Waste Technologies Convention. Investigators used truth drugs to interrogate suspects and delegates to the convention. That led to even more arrests. Nothing came of initial reports that there was a second sniper in the park. However, the trail of suspects and evidence eventually led investigators across the galaxy to New Colorado. It was just as the Fleet Commander had suspected.
By acclamation, the Fleet Commander, himself having some royal blood, was elected Emperor by the Assembly. With blood still wet on his uniform, the Fleet Commander accepted the ceremonial crown and scepter. His first executive order was a general mobilization of the military. The fleets and army were ordered to New Colorado.
* * * * *
Special Forces Commander #1 summoned all negotiators for a special emergency meeting. General Kalipetsis could not make it, so I filled in.
“Have you arrested the mass murderer Carlos Bonanno yet?” asked the Special Forces Commander, getting right to the point.
“No,” I replied. “We have been through this before. Your arrest warrants have to be approved by General Kalipetsis, and he says there is a question of sovereignty at stake that must be resolved.”
“I now have two more Imperial Arrest Warrants,” announced the Special Forces Commander, waving the paperwork. “They will be served immediately!”
I read the warrants. They included another warrant for Bonanno and a warrant for someone named Louis Gotti. Both warrants were for murder. “What is this all about?” I asked. “Who got killed this time?”
“Bonanno and Gotti conspired to murder the Emperor,” replied the Special Forces Commander. “More arrest warrants will be issued soon, as the investigation expands.”
“The Emperor was assassinated?” I asked. I was stunned. “That is terrible. Surely you do not think the Legion or any part of our government had anything to do with a conspiracy to murder the Emperor, or had any advance knowledge of a conspiracy.”
“That very possibility is being looked in to,” said the Special Forces Commander, staring at Lieutenant Lopez. “Your involvement would not surprise me.”
“Who do you think you are looking at?” yelled Lieutenant Lopez. Rising from his seat, he gave the Special Forces Commander a shove. Aides had to pull the two apart. “Are you accusing me of something, punk?”
“This meeting is over,” said the Special Forces Commander. “The Fleet Commander will return soon. Serve those arrest warrants before the Fleet Commander gets back, or he will serve the warrants himself.”
“Are you trying to start a war?” I asked. “That is where this is headed. It will take time to sort this out. Is this just a pretext for war?”
“Soldiers do not want to start wars,” explained the Special Forces Commander. “Wars are started by politicians. Our military is being mobilized. The momentum for war may be bigger than any of us. As much as I hate you human pestilence, I do not want war. Serve those warrants and find those responsible for the murder of the Emperor, and we might yet avert another war.
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Chapter 9
Air-raid shelters and extensive escape tunnels had been dug under all Mafioso residences and businesses in New Memphis since the last dispute between the Legion and the Mob. Simply bombing the Mafia from space, as tempting as that might sound, was not an option this time around. Besides, I wanted to capture as many thugs as I could so that they could be interrogated or turned over to the spiders. I declared martial law and signed arrest warrants for most of the organized crime members of New Memphis. I put up roadblocks so no one could leave town. Top on the list of names were Bonanno, Gotti, and Battaglia.
Legion strike teams stormed all known Mafioso residences, businesses, and properties, with no luck. As expected, Mafia family and associates were able to escape through the tunnels. They knew we were coming, anyway. Frustrated, I had their property burned to the ground. Anonymous tips indicated the riverfront area would be a good place to search next. Lieutenant Lopez and I had just walked out of Legion Headquarters to lead a column of tanks to the docks when Phil Coen of World News Tonight and his camera crew stopped me for an interview.
“Major Czerinski, I am glad to have finally caught up with you,” said Coen, pleasantly. “Is it true you are arresting American citizens and turning them over to the spiders to be tortured or summarily executed? What ever happened to the Constitution and due process?”
“I am not a cop,” I said. “The Legion has not arrested anyone.”
“Is it true you burned down the homes of several of New Memphis’s leading citizens?” asked Coen. “Including the Mayor’s mansion?”
“That was the Mayor’s Mansion?” I asked Lieutenant Lopez. “Is the Mayor on our list?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Lieutenant Lopez. “Giuseppe Battaglia is near the top of the list.”
“How do these people get elected?” I asked. “Oh well. Don’t worry. The Mayor is alive. He escaped out a tunnel and is hiding with his Mafia buddies down by the docks.”
“Did you burn down a pizza parlor next door to the Sheriff’s Office?” asked Coen.
“That was an accident,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Someone left the gas on from one of the ovens.”
“What proof do you have of any wrongdoing or Mafia involvement?” asked Coen. “Didn’t General Kalipetsis say just this week that the Mafia never got past Mars?”
“As you know, the Emperor of Arthropoda was assassinated,” I explained. “There is evidence a conspiracy originated here in New Memphis. The spider Feet Commander demands that we arrest those responsible.”
“Is it true the spiders allege the Emperor was assassinated by a conspiracy of sanitary engineers?” asked Coen. “How reliable can this information be, and should we trust their word on the matter?”
“Shit happens,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Garbage happens, too. Truth is sometimes stranger than fiction.”
“Critics in Congress have already questioned whether we have allowed the Legion to become a puppet of the Arthropodan Empire. Legionnaires arresting our own citizens and turning them over to certain death at the claws of the spiders smacks of a loss of sovereignty.”
“Are we broadcasting live?” I asked. “What is the range of your broadcast?”
“We are broadcasting to our satellite,” said Coen. “Then the feed goes planet-wide. Don’t you expect the citizens of New Memphis to resist your infringement on their Constitutional rights and your scrapping of the Bill of Rights in favor of knuckling under to the every whim of a maniacal spider Fleet Commander who once publicly stated that his ultimate goal is to sweep humanity from this part of the galaxy?”
“Martial law has been declared,” I said. “It’s all le
gal. I would think the citizens of New Memphis would be tired by now of being ruled by Mafioso thugs that obviously rigged elections in the first place and treat the public treasury like it is their own private bank account.”
“Your martial law is illegal,” insisted Coen. “You are just a Legion major. Where is General Kalipetsis? What does the Sheriff have to say about this outrage?”
“Is the Sheriff on our list?” I asked Lieutenant Lopez, hoping.
“Not yet,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Do you want him added?”
“Coen wants to know how the Sheriff feels about the martial law. Arrest Coen and his camera crew, and lock them up at the county jail,” I ordered. “That way he can interview the Sheriff in person.”
“You can’t do this!” exclaimed Coen, as he was grabbed by Sergeant Green. “I will sue you for violating my First Amendment rights!”
“My advice to you is never miss a good chance to shut up,” I said. “That should be somewhere in the Constitution, too.”
As soon as the TV transmission was cut, General Kalipetsis called me on the radio. He had been watching the confrontation live on World News Tonight. “Can’t I leave you alone for two days without you stirring up the press?” asked General Kalipetsis. “What is this about you burning down the Mayor’s mansion?”
“Sir, Mayor Battaglia is on the spiders’ list of Mafioso involved in the conspiracy to assassinate the Emperor,” I explained. “If I don’t find him and the other wise guys, the spiders will invade New Memphis and attempt to make the arrests themselves. I do not have enough legionnaires to stop them.”
“I understand the problem,” said General Kalipetsis. “Do the best you can with the troops available. I will send you some national guard companies, soon. In the meantime, do you really have to hunt the Mayor down on TV like he’s some kind of common criminal or Democrat?”
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion Page 8