America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion

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America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion Page 10

by Walter Knight


  “I noticed a lot of spiders with them,” commented the Prince. “That shows progress toward inter-species harmony and goodwill. I will need that to govern a mixed species city like New Memphis.”

  “See,” said the Emperor, proudly. “You are learning important lessons already.”

  “So why did the human pestilence get the port, and all we got was the burned-out downtown area and a wrecked donut shop?” asked the Prince.

  “We got City Hall and the Sheriff’s Office,” said the Emperor. “Have patience. Soon we will have it all as we establish our authority.”

  A lone biker left the Hell’s Angels formation and doubled back to see the royals close up and personal. The biker was a beautiful female spider. Her body paint displayed the colors of the rainbow. She had extensive body piercing. Bells and charms chimed softly in the breeze.

  “Are you the Prince Charlie I saw on Cable TV?” she asked. “You looked hot on the tube, but baby you sizzle in person!”

  “My father is the Emperor,” said the Prince. “I did not know my arrival was also being covered by the local media.”

  “Baby, can I have your autograph?” asked the female biker, pulling out a Sharpie marker. “I can’t wait to see my girlfriend’s reaction when she finds out I met Prince Charlie in person.”

  “Certainly,” said the Prince. “Do you have some stationary I can write on?”

  “Just put your tag on my chest,” said the female spider, unbuttoning her vest. “Don’t be shy. Put it on me next to my heart.”

  “This is highly unusual,” replied the Prince, embarrassed. “What is your name? I will write a comment next to my signature.”

  “My name is Rainbow,” said the biker babe. “I want you to write, ‘You were awesome all last night. I love you. Hugs and kisses, Prince Charlie.’”

  “I will not write that,” said the Prince, as he finished his signature. “I would not want to harm your reputation.”

  “How sweet. No worries about that,” said Rainbow. “Can I have a kiss?”

  “What?” asked the Prince, taking a step back. “Commoners do not kiss royals without being asked first.”

  “Females are a bit more pushy here on New Colorado,” explained the Emperor, standing by and observing the odd exchange between his son and the female spider. “I blame it on their pioneer spirit and the radiation. You will get used to it.”

  “I see,” said the Prince. “Fine. I can adjust to local customs, if it will make the peasantry happy. I will accept one small kiss.”

  “I’ll show you local customs,” said Rainbow, as she leapt from her Harley and tackled the Prince. Rainbow wrapped all eight limbs around the Prince as she kissed him and tore at his clothing. Bodyguards pulled Rainbow off the Prince to prevent an unauthorized royal mating. The whole event was recorded and broadcast repeatedly on Cable TV’s Global News Tonight and on the Playboy Channel.

  “Wow!” yelled Rainbow. “You have the hottest mandibles on the planet! Would you like to go for a ride? Put something exciting between your legs? Harleys are the best.”

  “Not likely,” said the Prince, still catching his breath. “That two-wheeled death machine looks unsafe and should probably be outlawed.”

  “It’s safe if you wear your helmet,” said Rainbow, as she put on her Legion Kevlar helmet. “Speaking of outlaws, meet me at the Outlaw Tavern sometime. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “I will pass,” said the Prince.

  “Oh come on,” said Rainbow. “Eye-candy like you should not go to waste. Don’t make me beg.”

  “The Prince has a busy schedule, especially now that he is the Mayor of New Memphis,” said the Emperor. “Now run along to church with your other Angel friends.”

  “Whatever,” said Rainbow. “You are the mayor? How about taking care of some parking tickets for me? Pretty please. I will be really appreciative, if you know what I mean.”

  “No!” said the Emperor. “The Prince cannot concern himself with such trivial matters.”

  “Who is this ogre?” asked Rainbow. “You better run along your own self before I slap you up the side of your head.”

  “I am your Emperor,” announced the Emperor, using a deep voice. “Do you not recognize me? Do you not have my photograph portrait prominently displayed in the main room of your home? It is the law, you know.”

  “Get real,” said Rainbow. “This is not the Empire. This is the United States.”

  “I beg to differ,” said the Emperor. “New Memphis is now part of my Empire. Even among the human pestilence, possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” said Rainbow. “But I will take a picture of the Prince and put it on my nightstand next to my bed. He’s a dream.”

  “I do not give out pictures of my son,” said the Emperor.

  “How did a stud muffin like Prince Charlie come from the likes of an old coot like you?” asked Rainbow. “Get lost.”

  “You will not address His Majesty in such a rude manner,” demanded the Special Forces Commander, reaching for his sidearm.

  Rainbow peeled rubber as she quickly rode away, giving the Special Forces Commander the one-fingered salute. A Legion armored car rounded the corner just as she left. Lieutenant Lopez stopped the armored car beside the royals.

  “Did any of you see a pack of Hell’s Angels go by in the last few minutes?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.

  “Yes,” said the Prince. “They went towards the docks. I believe they are going to church.”

  “That’s not likely,” scoffed Lieutenant Lopez. “We need to wipe out those Hell’s Angels before their disease spreads. Cable TV did an exposé on them last week. Because of that free publicity, there are now Hell’s Angels chapters sprouting up all over New Colorado.”

  “Freedom of religion is guaranteed in the Arthropodan Empire,” advised the Prince. “Frankly, your intolerance shocks me. By executive order, my first official act as Mayor of New Memphis will be to establish a sanctuary for the Hell’s Angels against Legion persecution.”

  “Are you Prince Charlie?” asked Lieutenant Lopez. “I saw you on TV. You are even dumber in person than you appeared to be on TV.”

  “Only Cable TV covered the arrival of my son,” said the Emperor. “Are you watching Cable now, Lieutenant Lopez?”

  “I view all media as part of my military intelligence duties,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “It’s a never-ending struggle, keeping track of you spiders.”

  “You will not win,” added the Special Forces Commander. “The Cable Guy is everywhere. Cable is the future.”

  * * * * *

  Louis Gotti dyed his skin and hair albino white. Gotti still had cash in his pockets, but it was quickly running out. The Legion had frozen all his bank accounts and assets. Friends and associates turned against him the same way they did against Battaglia. Gotti was determined not to meet the same fate. As Gotti walked along Elvis Street, a bunch of motorcyclists splashed him with mud. Gotti shook his fist at them. A few minutes later, a speeding Legion armored car rounded the corner. Gotti ducked back into the nearest doorway. It was a bank. Perfect, he thought, and whispered to himself, “I could rob this bank and use the money to get out of town.”

  “Don’t do it,” a voice said.

  Gotti had only whispered, but the warning voice was loud and clear. But there was no one in the bank doorway. There was only an ATM.

  “Are you short of cash?” asked the ATM.

  “I will be soon,” answered Gotti. “What’s it to you?”

  “I can help you,” said the ATM. “Tell me your situation.”

  “My assets are frozen,” explained Gotti. “I need a new life. I need a new identity. You can’t help me with that.”

  “I can solve all of those problems,” boasted the ATM. “If you qualify.”

  Gotti looked closer at the ATM. A small unassuming plaque read, ‘United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion Recruitment Center: Fun, Travel, & Adventure awaits you in the Legion.’
/>   “I don’t qualify,” said Gotti. “The Legion wants to kill me and feed me to the spiders.”

  “Put your thumb on my pad, and I will review your situation,” promised the ATM.

  “I don’t want to be in your database,” replied Gotti. “You will turn me in to the Legion or the spider Intelligentsia.”

  “I promise to do no such thing as long as you consider my offer,” said the ATM. “Trust me. I am your friend.”

  Gotti put his thumb on the pad. A pin pricked him, drawing blood. Gotti pulled away, cursing. “Why did you do that?”

  “I wanted a DNA sample and blood print for the contract,” said the ATM. “I see no court-ordered arrest warrants. Your résumé is impressive for a wise guy. You have financial and organizational skills. You are experienced with firearms, a skill always appreciated in the Legion.

  “No warrants?” asked Gotti. “What about the spider warrants?”

  “The spiders do not matter,” said the ATM. “We will be at war with them soon.”

  “But Major Czerinski wants to arrest me and give me to the spiders,” said Gotti. “How do I get around that?”

  “Local commanders have their priorities, and I have mine,” said the ATM. “Recruitment quotas must be met. I will issue you a new ID card. Your new name will be Private Sylvester Gardenzio Stallone.”

  “I am not enlisting yet,” said Gotti. “I need time to think this out.”

  “I will give you five minutes before I inform the Sheriff’s Office that the fugitive Louis Gotti is hiding in the lobby of a bank, and that I have a verbal recording of his plans to rob that bank.”

  “Do you have any idea what happens to snitches?” said Gotti, trying to think of something he could do to an ATM. He thought about pulling its plug, but the ATM didn’t seem to have a power source. Giving up, Gotti accepted his new Legion identification card and written orders instructing him to report to Legion Headquarters in New Memphis immediately.

  “Do not think about going AWOL,” warned the ATM. “I injected a viral sized computer chip into your blood system. The details about that are in your copy of the contract. The chip will report your status in the Legion if you try to pass any scanner.”

  “You violated me,” accused Gotti. “I’ll get you for this.”

  “Be happy, Private Stallone. “You just earned a fifty thousand dollar enlistment bonus and the chance to do something worthwhile with your worthless excuse for a life. Good luck, Private Stallone. Have a nice day.”

  * * * * *

  Gotti had a few drinks, then reported to Legion Headquarters. Sergeant Green gave him a uniform, an assault rifle, ammunition, and directions to one of the Legion roadside checkpoints. Sergeant Green told him not to come back until properly relieved and sober.

  “Guido?” exclaimed Gotti, after arriving. “Is that you? What a stroke of luck! Long time no see.”

  “I can’t believe!” replied Guido. “The whole galaxy is looking for you, and you hide in the Legion?”

  “Don’t worry,” said Gotti. “I am Private Sylvester Stallone now. The name has a regal ring to it. But don’t worry, I’m only staying in long enough to pay someone to get this tracking chip out of my body.”

  “Good luck with that,” said Guido. “It can’t be done. I’ve had experts examine mine. If you tamper with the chip, it explodes and gives you a heart attack or a brain aneurism.”

  “Great. I’m stuck in the Legion?” asked Gotti. “That Sergeant Green is a real jerk. I don’t think he likes Italians.”

  “He don’t like anyone,” agreed Guido. “Look at yourself. You look like an albino wise guy.”

  “So I’ll claim to be from Northern Italy. I’ll be a skiing wise guy fool from the Italian Alps. Haven’t you heard of the Alps?”

  “No. I’m from New York City.”

  “And I’m from Jersey,” said Gotti, shrugging. “I’m just saying my people came from the Alps of Northern Italy. You know, it is all part of my new identity. I promise this is just temporary.”

  “The Legion isn’t so bad, once the spiders stop shooting at you,” said Guido. “There is even some money to be made on the side.”

  “Yeah right. Nickels and dimes. So what are you doing out here in this guard shack? Are you supposed to be a traffic cop?”

  “I am supposed to search suspicious vehicles for bombs and drugs. And I’m supposed to keep the whole spider army out. It’s a piece of cake.”

  “I’ll tell you what. You search the cars for bombs, and I’ll search the cars for drugs. I don’t do bombs.”

  “That’s not what I hear. Seriously, you screwed up. You can’t hide in the Legion. Someone will recognize you.”

  “I’ll just keep my head down,” promised Gotti. “I’ll do a good job and not attract attention. Eventually an opportunity will present itself. It always does.”

  * * * * *

  Three bank robbers entered the New Memphis Bank, spreading out in the lobby. A fourth robber waited outside with the getaway car. All wore ski masks. The first robber, a spider, drew a nine millimeter pistol and took a female hostage. The second robber, also a spider, immediately spray-painted the security cameras. Then he threatened the tellers with his pistol and demanded two bags be filled with hundred dollar bills. The third robber, a human, pulled an assault rifle from under his long coat and demanded all customers drop to the floor. At the same time he pointed his assault rifle at the bank’s security guard. The guard slid his pistol across the floor and joined the customers in the prone position. The bank robbers planned to be inside the bank no longer than two minutes. After driving to the spider/human dividing line, they planned to change cars and enter the spider zone.

  After Gotti finished his whiskey, he smashed the bottle and staggered across the street to the New Memphis Bank. Gotti had it in his mind to rob the New Memphis Bank. He had decided that the Legion was not the life for him, no matter what Guido said. He had gone from Capo to Crappola, and it did not sit well with him. Drunk and still in Legion uniform, Gotti checked his assault rifle. Flicking the switch to full automatic, Gotti sprinted through the bank’s double doors, firing wildly into the ceiling to get everyone’s attention. Two spiders wearing masks immediately put their hands up above their heads and dropped their pistols. A human with an assault rifle quickly turned. Gotti shot him several times. One of the spiders standing with his hands up was hit by accident. Customers began savagely beating the other spider robber into submission. Other customers rushed to Gotti, slapping him on the back and congratulating him and the Legion for a job well done.

  Soon, Sheriff’s deputies, TV reporters, and Lieutenant Lopez in an armored car full of legionnaires arrived. There was more shooting outside. Gotti dived for cover next to a dead bank robber. The getaway driver was killed after a short but intense gun battle. Sobering a bit, Gotti smeared blood on his face as deputies and a TV camera crew approached to ask questions. Bright lights lit up the area as the TV camera crew got into position for interviews.

  “Private Sylvester Stallone, this is a proud moment for you and the Legion. You thwarted bandits who have been responsible for a string of robberies and murders all over the North,” informed Phil Coen, of World News Tonight. “Explain to us your thoughts as you were facing down three heavily armed bank robbers all by yourself. How much did your extensive Legion training and combat experience help you survive such a desperate confrontation?”

  “It was me or them,” said Gotti. “I refused to be killed without at least taking some of the evildoers with me.”

  “Amazing!” exclaimed Coen. “Private Stallone, I have been told you only recently enlisted in the Legion. Where are you from? Would you like to say anything to family and loved ones back home?”

  “I am from the Italian Alps,” said Gotti, covering his face and attempting to smear more blood. “My family is dead. They died in an avalanche.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” said Coen. “How does it feel for an ordinary soldier to be suddenly thrust into
such a violent confrontation? To be a hero?”

  “Isn’t that what legionnaires do every day?” asked Gotti.

  “Quite right,” said Coen. “Heroes like you are an inspiration to us all. Sometimes we forget how difficult it is for our far-flung soldiers on the front lines, alone, far from home, fighting for our freedom. A brave, good-looking legionnaire like you will probably be put on recruitment posters for the Legion. How does it feel to have your picture broadcast across the galaxy, inspiring humanity to fight back against crime and lawlessness on the Spider Frontier?”

  “No,” said Gotti, still covering his face. “I can’t have that.”

  “You are too modest,” said Coen. “You are a true hero. The world wants to reach out and touch you.”

  “I’m sure of that,” added Gotti.

  “Get away from Private Stallone, you pack of vultures,” snapped Lieutenant Lopez. “Can’t you see he is seriously injured? He may even be in shock!”

  Lieutenant Lopez led Gotti to the armored car. Coen and his camera crew followed with their lights and cameras. Medic Ceausescu taped a gauze patch across Gotti’s face after they entered the armored car. They raced to the hospital.

  “Talk about blind dumb luck,” commented the ATM.

  * * * * *

  When Prince Charlie declared a sanctuary for the Hell’s Angels, it was big news. The publicity caused even more interest in the bikers. Now, those who joined the new Hell’s Angels chapters were traveling to New Memphis to see where it all started. New Memphis was the cradle of the Hell’s Angels. It was their Mecca. Posters and fliers all over New Colorado announced a benefit concert sponsored by the Hell’s Angels in New Memphis to help biker members who could not afford to buy their own Harleys. The world was flocking north to attend the event.

  Guido and Gotti waved the Harleys past their checkpoint. Blue exhaust smoke choked the air around the two legionnaires. The Emperor and the Special Forces Commander looked on in dismay.

 

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