“But he is a Democrat,” I said. “This whole town always votes Democrat.”
“In that case, just handle it,” said General Kalipetsis. “I have my own problems on the other side of New Colorado with more insurgency activity. I don’t need to be micro managing your problems with Democrats. Did you hear the Greens are pulling out of Finisterra? Waterstone just signed a treaty with Arthropoda promising unlimited immigration quotas and expanded borders in exchange for keeping their national guard inside their borders.”
“That isn’t good,” I said. “We are giving them Finisterra?”
“It looks like it,” said General Kalipetsis. “We will try to negotiate a new treaty for joint governing of Finisterra and mutual respect for property rights and property ownership. But, we may be pulling back to the old DMZ soon. Finisterra is too radioactive for my tastes anyway. Do the best you can, and try not to explode any more nukes.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, ending the transmission.
“Start up your engines! We are moving out to the Waterfront District!”
When my tanks got to the waterfront, we stopped all port operations. There must have been a million logs being loaded onto ships headed south. Irate longshoremen confronted us, but what could they do against tanks, cannons, and machine guns? I told the dock workers to give up all the Mafioso they were hiding. The crowd pushed Victor Gambini, President of the local longshoreman’s union, to the front of my tank.
“Sorry,” I announced. “Gambini is not on my arrest list. You can take him back. I’m only looking for members of the Battaglia, Gotti, and Bonanno organizations.”
“You are getting Gambini,” said Tiny, still wearing Hell’s Angels patches on his vest. “He’s crooked enough. Be happy with that and go away!”
“It’s better than nothing,” commented Lieutenant Lopez. “I’m adding him to our list. Maybe we can trade Gambini for a wise guy, later.”
“What list?” asked Gambini. “You can’t put me on no list! You’re just arresting me because I’m Italian. This is union busting!”
“Fine. We’ll take him,” I said, irritated. Sergeant Green grabbed Gambini and handcuffed him to the turret of my tank. I looked closer at the giant of a man who seemed to be the spokesman for the longshoremen. “What is Hell’s Angels?”
“Hell’s Angels is an organization of motorcycle enthusiasts,” replied Tiny. “What’s it to you?”
“I guess everyone needs a hobby,” I said. “Although I think it’s a bit cold and wet up here to be riding bikes.”
“I’ll worry about the weather,” replied Tiny. “You worry about playing G.I. Joe.”
“If Hell’s Angels is a gang, we will talk again,” I warned.
“You got what you wanted,” added a spider longshoreman, also wearing Hell’s Angels garb. “You can leave now.”
“I’m not going anywhere! I will be here everyday until I get everyone on this list,” I announced, posting the arrest list to a utility pole. “Any information that results in arrests will be rewarded with cash.”
“How much cash?” asked Tiny.
“I’ll pay one hundred thousand dollars for Mayor Battaglia,” I said. “I’ll pay even more for Bonanno and Gotti.”
“Battaglia is hiding at the union hall,” said the spider Hell’s Angel. “I will get him for you.” A posse of Longshoremen marched off to the union hall.
Battaglia was dragged out kicking and screaming. He was handcuffed to my tank next to Gambini. The Special Forces Commander decided to keep them both. The next day, Carlos Bonanno was found dead, hanging from the flagpole in front of the Sheriff’s Office. Attached to him was a note saying Bonanno had been voted out of the Black Hand, and that his business associates wanted nothing more to do with his kind. The note also expressed grief for the Emperor, and denied having anything to do with his assassination.
* * * * *
A long column of spider tanks approached New Memphis from the northwest. Their first contact with the Legion was at a Legion checkpoint. Guido was asleep in the guard shack when Corporal Williams woke him and excitedly pointed at the tanks. The lead tank was parked behind a weighted lift-up gate barrier. It was too late to run, so Guido walked up to the gate like he owned the whole planet.
“You are causing a traffic jam,” accused Guido. “What do you think you are doing? Pull over to the side of the road and let cars go by!”
“I have orders to occupy New Memphis,” said the tank commander. “The Empire will govern New Memphis jointly with the Legion.”
“We will see about that,” replied Guido, calling me at Legion Headquarters on the phone. “I don’t believe you.”
“I have no knowledge of anyone making a deal to allow spider tanks to invade New Memphis,” I answered. “I didn’t think the spiders are even allowed by treaty to have tanks anywhere on the planet’s surface.”
“There must be a hundred tanks at my gate,” said Guido. “Do something!”
“Try to hold them until I can call an air strike on your position,” I ordered.
“What?” asked Guido. “What do you mean ... on my position?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Trust me. Help is on the way.”
Guido threw down the phone. “You can’t pass this checkpoint,” he told the tank commander. “You have no authorization.”
“I have my orders,” said the tank commander. “I am either passing by you, or over you.”
“Let me see your orders,” said Guido. “Do you have that in writing?”
“No,” admitted the tank commander. “The Special Forces Commander himself told me to proceed to New Memphis.”
“You are risking a war, and you don’t even have written orders?” asked Guido, incredulously. “What kind of an outfit are you running? What if you got the orders wrong? What part of New Memphis are you suppose to go to? Did your Special Forces Commander say to just come to the edge of town, or go downtown, or maybe to the docks? Which is it?”
“No, he did not specify,” said the tank commander, now uncertain of his position. “I just assumed he meant to occupy all of New Memphis.”
“You assumed?” asked Guido. “Do you have any idea what damage your tank treads will do to the streets of downtown New Memphis? And what about all those parked cars? Are you just going to run them over to get by? Who is going to pay for all the damage you are going to cause?”
“Not me,” said the tank commander. “I guess the Emperor will pay.”
“Are you sure?” asked Guido. “You better be sure, because if the Emperor gets a bill for millions of credits damage, he is going to be on you like a fly on dog poop.”
“I never thought of that,” said the tank commander, calling his headquarters for clarification of his orders. As he talked, Guido and his monitor dragon jumped up on the spider’s tank. Guido did not like talking up to the tank commander and was not through giving him an earful. When the tank commander finished, he addressed Guido. “You are a prisoner of war. We will occupy all of New Memphis.”
By now, Spot had climbed up on to the turret and was inches from the tank commander, growling. The dragon clamped on to the tank commander’s shoulder and held it.
“Call Headquarters back,” said Guido. “Tell them it is you who has been captured. If you don’t, Spot will tear you apart.”
The tank commander stared into the eyes of the monitor dragon, something very few have done and lived. “I command a hundred tanks and support vehicles. If you kill me, you will surely be killed, too.”
Guido gave Spot a hand signal. The dragon began shaking the tank commander.
“Okay! Please!” screamed the tank commander. He agreed to call Headquarters, and reported the problem at the checkpoint. Then he handed the radio to Guido. “The Special Forces Commander wants to talk to you.”
“Hello! This is Guido,” said Corporal Tonelli. “You’re going to be in big trouble if you think you can just barge into New Memphis without any consideration for how much damage your
tanks will cause.”
“Guido?” asked the Special Forces Commander. “You are being invaded by overwhelming forces. Do you not understand? Surrender at once!”
“Are you trying to start a war?” asked Guido. “Because you are about this close.”
“Yes,” said the Special Forces Commander. “And this is the first shot! You are dead.”
“You had better double check with your Emperor on that,” said Guido. “I am not allowing these tanks to enter New Memphis unless you post a thirty million dollar damage deposit.”
“What?” said the Special Forces Commander. “That is outrageous.”
“Twenty-five million dollars is as low as I can go,” said Guido. “I doubt any of your tankers even have a driver’s license. And you will have to take the treads off the tanks and replace them with tires. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” said the Special Forces Commander. “But we will have to truck the tires in.”
“You do that!” said Guido. “I am texting an account number for the transfer of funds for the damage deposit. No one goes anywhere until that is done.”
“I want some of that money, too,” said Corporal Williams, waving his card.
“Shut up,” ordered Guido. Then he called Legion Headquarters on the phone. “Where is that air support I was promised?”
“Sorry,” I said. “We have nothing. The ‘Air Farce’ is busy with insurgents on the other side of the planet. General Kalipetsis says we are on our own. I have maybe one helicopter, but I can’t risk losing it to SAMs.”
“The spiders say they will agree to joint control of New Memphis,” said Guido. “And they are willing to post a damage deposit.”
“I am getting word of that here, too,” I said, checking faxes and text messages. “Let them through.”
“Major Czerinski says you may pass,” said Guido, lifting the gate. “Show me the money.”
“The transfer is done,” said the tank commander, handing Guido his card. “Our Special Forces Commander contacted the Emperor. His Majesty landed on New Colorado to take charge personally. The Emperor said his original orders were to occupy New Memphis, not start a war. You were right.”
“Spot! Let go of that spider,” ordered Guido. “You may pass when your tires arrive. Travel in groups of no more than five tanks so you will not block traffic. Obey all traffic lights and stop signs. Go the speed limit for trucks. Do not run over parked cars. And make sure you do not double park!”
* * * * *
The column of Arthropodan marine tanks drove down Elvis Street through the center of New Memphis. Both human and spider civilians waved enthusiastically. Most of the humans waved with the one-fingered salute. The spider marines waved back. Face to face contact with the public and the spider marines was mostly civil. Some anti-spider graffiti appeared on walls. ‘Spiders go home’ was the main theme. A sign in the parking lot of the Longshoreman Tavern stated, “No tanks allowed. Violators will be towed at owner’s expense.”
Legion tanks shadowed the spider tanks to make sure civilians were not abused. For the most part, the spider marines were polite and well disciplined. The arrival of Arthropodan Intelligentsia State Security Police investigators did not go so smoothly. Accustomed to instant obedience and no back-talk on Arthropoda, the Intelligentsia often got upset by rude comments and a lack of cooperation. The Intelligentsia were demanding and threatening, and it did not go over well in New Memphis. Also, their black uniforms were reminiscent of old Nazi war movies. They certainly spoke and acted like Nazis.
The Intelligentsia were going house to house, looking for Mafia conspirators. They were getting frustrated by the lack of success and cooperation. Humans and Americanized spiders did not like being pushed around and searched by the Gestapo, and they were open in their hostility.
Two Intelligentsia officers entered the Longshoreman Tavern, following up on a tip given to them by the Legion that Louis Gotti and his associates frequented the dive. The Intelligentsia did not think to bring backup officers because they had never needed help before. Intelligentsia’s orders were the law, and were never questioned –at least not back on Arthropoda.
“Attention everyone!” announced the ranking Intelligentsia officer. “Has anyone seen the fugitive Louis Gotti? I know Gotti and his gang have been here.”
The Intelligentsia officers looked about, expecting someone to step forward, but were met only with silence. They saw a couple spiders sitting at the bar and approached, hoping for a better response.
“You! Have you seen Louis Gotti?” asked the Intelligentsia officer.
“Yeah I have,” answered a young spider. He wore a Hell’s Angels vest and spoke English. “Gotti was in here a couple hours ago, punking your mother.”
“My mother has never been to New Colorado,” replied the Intelligentsia officer. The crowd laughed loudly and pressed in to get a better look at the confrontation they knew was coming. The Intelligentsia officer checked his translation device to make sure it was operating correctly. “What is so funny?”
“I am laughing at the thought of you flying through that plate glass window and landing hard on you ass in the parking lot,” threatened the Hell’s Angels spider.
“I have no intention of flying anywhere,” said the Intelligentsia officer. “I certainly will not fly through a window. Why do you dress and speak like the human pestilence? Have you no pride? What is this Hell’s Angels you wear on your clothes?”
“I was born here,” said the spider. “I dress like this because I want to. It’s called freedom. I will dress as I please, you fascist pig.”
The Intelligentsia officer drew his pistol. Tiny, who had been standing behind the Intelligentsia officer, picked the cop up over his head and threw him through the plate glass window. The crowd grabbed the other Intelligentsia officer and tossed him through the window, too.
About an hour later, the two Intelligentsia officers limped back to the tavern with marine tanks in tow. The crowd scattered at the sound of the tanks crunching cars and motorcycles in the parking lot. The spider tanks fired cannon shells into the Longshoreman Tavern, destroying the building. Legion tanks, who had been shadowing the spiders, immediately fired missiles at the spider tanks. All three Arthropodan marine tanks caught fire and were abandoned. Drunk bar patrons and Hell’s Angels danced in celebration on the turrets.
Radio distress calls went out from both sides. Legionnaires and Arthropodan marines, both eating at the same Dunkin’ Donuts across from the Sheriff’s Office, received the call at the same time. It was a race to see who could get to their tanks first. The tanks circled Dunkin’ Donuts, using the building for cover, trying to get a clear shot. Finally both sides opened fire at once, destroying Dunkin’ Donuts in the process. Air support was requested by both sides, but shoulder-fired SAMs kept helicopter gunships at bay.
The Sheriff’s Office withdrew its deputies to the County Building. When that happened, the civilians rioted. Kids threw Molotov cocktails from rooftops at spider tanks. Soon whole blocks of downtown New Memphis were on fire. Human and spider civilians, watching the riot on TV, ran out of their homes and looted liquor stores, grocery stores, and Radio Shack.
The Special Forces Commander, viewing live video of the battle and riot, called me on the phone. We agreed to separate our forces, dividing New Memphis. The spider marines got downtown, and the Legion got the port. Both sides agreed to rebuild Dunkin’ Donuts as soon as possible and allow joint access. The Hell’s Angels rebuilt the Longshoreman tavern, changing the name to the Outlaw Tavern.
Return to Table of Contents
Chapter 10
When the Emperor arrived, he immediately toured Downtown New Memphis. He was upset about the damage and ordered the downtown area rebuilt. Also, the Emperor brought his son.
“I heard there is a job opening for the position of mayor,” said the Emperor. “I am appointing you Mayor of New Memphis. The administrative experience you gain will do you a world of good and will pad your résum
é.”
“I do not want to be mayor,” replied the Prince, annoyed. “You are the Emperor. Make me a general and let me conquer the rest of New Colorado.”
“The exuberance of youth,” said the Emperor with a sigh. “Humor me. Do a good job as mayor, and maybe later, if you are still interested in a military career, I will appoint you as second lieutenant.”
“Second lieutenant? What good is it to have the Emperor as my father if second lieutenant is the best you can do for me?”
“Experience will help you do a better job in whatever career field you choose,” said the Emperor. “There is no point being appointed as a general if you do a poor job because you don’t have a clue.”
“I might as well stay in school rather than endure the slow torture of this boring place,” complained the Prince.”
“I am determined not to let schooling interfere with your education,” advised the Emperor. “Now is a great time to be on New Colorado. Think of it as an adventure and a learning opportunity.”
As the royals crossed the street to get some coffee at what was left of Dunkin’ Donuts, about a hundred Hell’s Angels rolled by. Each biker waved as they rode past. The Prince returned their one-fingered salutes with his own finger-extended wave.
“Who are they?” asked the Prince. “That was so cool.”
“Their jackets say Hell’s Angels,” said the Emperor, checking his translation device. “I think they are another human pestilence religious cult.”
“Are they Mormons?” asked the Prince. “I read about the Mormons in my Earth history studies.”
“Maybe,” said the Emperor. “It is hard to keep track of all the many human pestilence religions.”
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion Page 9