The Emperor described his fiancée as an ‘independent thinker’ and an ‘awesome biker babe.’ Queen Rainbow caused raised eyebrows and stretched mandibles when she stated she will retain duel citizenship.
In other news from New Colorado, the Special Forces Commander and newly appointed Governor of the spider North Territory, said he is looking forward to face-to-face negotiations with General Kalipetsis to resolve Arthropodan claims on New Disneyland. The Special Forces Commander stated that the predominately spider population of New Disneyland demands inclusion back into the Empire. Arthropodan armored units have recently been moved to the sparsely populated Battle Creek area, ostensibly for training purposes and routine rotation. Elements of the Legion’s First Division have also been moved to Battle Creek, also for training purposes. Battle Creek is about half way between Finisterra and New Disneyland. The Special Forces Commander also insisted on interviews with inmates held at the New Disneyland prison to investigate reports of abuse of Arthropodan citizens and to ensure that no political prisoners are still being held.
When asked to comment, the spider Mayor of New Disneyland said he looks forward to participation in the upcoming negotiations and hopes all parties involved are committed to principles of democracy and the rule of law.
General Kalipetsis, when asked about the prospect of turning New Disneyland back over to the spiders, said, “What? Are you crazy? If the border is moved at all, it should be to the New Mississippi where it divides Finisterra. I am sick and tired of concessions to the spiders that only encourage their imperialistic tendencies. We need to stop pussyfooting around with those spiders.” When asked to comment on reports that the fugitive Gotti had been hiding in the Legion, General Kalipetsis said, “Enemy propaganda has no bounds. I can assure you that enlistees are thoroughly screened and checked by computers for criminal records. Computers do not lie.”
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Chapter 15
Sergeant Nesbit was seeing a lot more gate traffic than usual going through the Battle Creek checkpoint. Traffic was mostly spider oil rig workers going home to New Disneyland for the holidays. Sergeant Nesbit approached yet another truck full of spiders to check their papers. This one would be different.
“Show me your identification, residency permit, work permit, embedded computer chip information, and library card,” said Sergeant Nesbit. “What is your destination and business in America?”
“I am taking oil rig workers home to New Disneyland to celebrate Christmas,” said the spider driver, producing the necessary documentation.
“Since when do spiders celebrate Christmas?” asked Sergeant Nesbit.
“I will take any excuse for a three day weekend,” said the driver. “We have a saying: ‘When in America, do as the Americans do.’”
“What company do you work for?” asked Sergeant Nesbit, as he scanned the driver’s ID bar code. Sergeant Nesbit also scanned the driver’s embedded computer chip and did a retina scan.
“I work for the Chevron Oil Corporation,” said the driver. “Security seems kind of tight. What is up?”
“Illegal immigration is increasing,” said Sergeant Nesbit. “The Legion has been tasked with cracking down at the border. Step out of the truck. I want to check your passengers.”
About twenty spiders were seated in the rear of the canvas-covered truck. Sergeant Nesbit again went through the routine of checking papers and doing the required scans. As he walked between the two rows of spiders, he almost stepped on a Dachshund.
“What’s with the wiener dog?” asked Sergeant Nesbit. “Is he your Christmas dinner?”
The Dachshund angrily snarled and pulled on his leash. A spider grabbed the dog by its collar and tried to comfort it.
“Sampson is sensitive about being called names,” said the spider, patting the dog’s head. “I would never consider having him for dinner.”
Sergeant Nesbit scanned the spider’s retina. No match was found in the database. He made the necessary data entry. “Are you a newly employed worker?” he asked. “Who do you work for?”
“The Arthropodan Imperial Oil Corporation,” answered the spider. “Why?”
“I thought you all worked for Chevron,” said Sergeant Nesbit. “Why don’t you?”
“All of Chevron’s human pestilence assets in the North are being nationalized,” replied the spider. “Maybe it’s not common knowledge yet.”
“You’re right,” said Sergeant Nesbit. “It’s news to me.”
Sergeant Nesbit checked the spider’s documentation again. Everything checked out. This spider was just another oil rig worker. But, it was obvious that the spider was not an oil rig worker. In fact, none of these passengers ever worked on oil rigs. They did not smell like oil rig workers, and had no telltale oil and grease stains on their exoskeletons. The spiders were all well groomed and orderly, like spider Boy Scouts. No one was even drunk. Sergeant Nesbit aimed his scanner at the Dachshund. An embedded chip instantly gave ownership and bill of sale information: George’s Pet Store & Grooming of West Finisterra. Champion breed Dachshund named ‘Sampson’ sold via VISA credit card to Arthropodan Marine Special Forces Military Intelligence Division.
Sergeant Nesbit activated an alarm on his belt. Tanks, armored cars, and legionnaire infantry converged on the truck and took all the commandos into custody.
Usually illegal immigrants were just identified, claw printed, and sent back across the border. Spies, however, were sent to my office to be interrogated. Being that I had just arrived and was just getting settled, I did not have time for extensive interrogations. All of the spiders refused to answer my questions, so I detailed Corporals Tonelli and Williams to transport them by bus to the New Disneyland Prison.
* * * * *
Guido and Williams entered the prison bus and walked down the aisle, checking prisoners and their restraints. When they got to the Military Intelligence Officer, they stopped. Guido grabbed the spider next to the Military Intelligence Officer, dragging him off the bus.
“Where are you taking my team leader?” asked the Military Intelligence Officer. “I protest our treatment.”
“I’m going to shoot him,” said Guido. “So shut up.”
“He has rights afforded to him under the rules of war and recent treaty agreements,” protested the Military Intelligence Officer. “You will be held personally responsible for his well being and safety!”
“We are not at war,” replied Guido, giving the team leader a shove off the bus. “All of you may be shot for being spies.”
Guido led the team leader to an outbuilding and cut the spider’s restraints.
“I knew you would get me out of that mess,” said the team leader, trying to give Guido a hug. Guido pushed him away. “Guido, you are a true friend!”
“I want my money back,” demanded Guido. “All of it!”
“I saved your life at Camp Alaska, and out there in the sticks,” said the team leader. “Remember? We are even. I even gave you the key to Gotti’s safe deposit box.”
“There was nothing in it except gambling records and IOUs,” complained Guido. “I should shoot you now.”
“I had no way of knowing that,” said the team leader. “It is my intent that counts. Gotti said it was full of jewels.”
“Where is Gotti?” asked Guido. “I want him back, too.”
“It is too late for Gotti,” said the team leader. “Gotti has already been transported back to Arthropoda to be tried and executed. Are you going to let me go or what?”
“Like I said earlier,” said Guido. “I’m going to shoot you.”
“Oh come on,” argued the team leader. “Let’s work something out. You said I owe you money? I am willing to settle up. How much do you think I owe you?”
“All of it,” said Guido. “Give me your card.”
“I spent some of it,” commented the team leader, handing Guido his card. “I bought real estate on the river in Finisterra. I am building a new hotel casino. You could be my partner.”
“You spent my money on worthless land in Finisterra?” asked Guido, drawing his pistol. “It’s too radioactive in Finisterra. Everything there glows in the dark. The last time I was there, my hair fell out.”
“It is being cleaned up,” said the desperate team leader. “I also bought land in Battle Creek. I bought the entire strip along the border. It is a perfect location for casinos, warehouses, drug distribution, brothels, auto sales, and pizza parlors. So, do we have a deal? Are we partners?”
“You bought land with my money,” said Guido. “That means we are already partners. I’ll make you a deal you can’t refuse. The biggest cut belongs to me.”
“Anything you say, Guido,” said the team leader. “But only because you are my friend.”
“Yeah right,” said Guido, as he led the team leader outside. Guido escorted the team leader across the border before taking the others to New Disneyland. “I’ll be contacting you later. I expect a nice return on my investment.”
“It will be easy money,” promised the team leader. “This planet is ripe for the picking.”
“If you are so smart, how come you let a dork like Sergeant Nesbit catch you?” asked Guido. “Why were you sneaking across the border, anyway?”
“We were up to no good,” admitted the team leader, as he crossed through the border gate. “You be careful. Trouble might be coming.”
When Guido and Williams returned to the bus without the team leader, everyone was silent. The commandos assumed the worst. Even the legionnaires present said nothing. Brooding most of the way, the Military Intelligence Officer vowed revenge. But first, he needed to make sure. “Where is my team leader?” he asked. “What did you do to him?”
“I told you,” answered Guido, smirking. “I shot him.”
“Do you want to be next?” asked Corporal Williams, snickering, but trying to keep a straight face.
“All atrocities have witnesses,” said the Military Intelligence Officer, rising to his feet. “Your name and ugly face will be remembered.”
“Back into your seat!” ordered Guido as he shoved the spider. “Are you going to be a troublemaker?”
The Military Intelligence Officer slipped his claw out of his shackles and struck Guido alongside his helmet, knocking him to the bus floor. As the spider raised his foot to stomp Guido, Corporal Williams hit the officer in the chest with a rifle stock. The Military Intelligence Officer collapsed backwards between the seats. He went into a seizure, arms and claw thrashing violently. When the convulsions abruptly ended, the spider lay still for about a minute before anyone attended him. The bus driver pulled over to the side of the road.
“He is dead?” asked one of the commandos, now checking for a pulse. “You murdered him, too.”
“I didn’t murder anyone,” said Guido. “That was self-defense.”
“He is still in chains,” said the spider. “And, you shot our team leader!”
“I didn’t shoot anyone,” said Guido, but no one was listening. After some shouting and pushing, the prisoners finally settled down. The bus started up and continued on its journey. Guido seat-belted the corpse securely.
“Have you no respect for the dead?” said the spider next to the corpse. “This is unacceptable.”
“Tough,” said Corporal Williams. “He can be buried at New Disneyland after the coroner checks him.”
“He is losing body fluids,” complained the spider commando. “Let us give our commanding officer a proper burial now.”
“He’s beginning to stink,” complained the bus driver.”
The corpse had a nasty smelling bowel movement. The spider next to the corpse jumped up and vomited green and yellow chunky fluid out across the aisle. Vomit splattered onto Guido’s boots. Corporal Williams, a sympathetic vomiter, threw up, too. Guido ordered the bus driver to pull over, and they carried the corpse off the bus.
Commandos dug a shallow grave, said a few words, and buried their comrade. Not a word was uttered by anyone for the rest of the trip. The spiders just gave Guido and Williams their best ‘mad dog’ stares until they arrived at New Disneyland.
* * * * *
A claw pushed through the soft dirt to the fresh air above. It looked like something from a zombie movie, or an ancient Buffy rerun. The Military Intelligence Officer wiped wet dirt from his face as he emerged from his shallow grave. It would be a long march back to the North Territory. Now he would see to it that the human pestilence would pay dearly for their atrocities.
A lone wolf scout howled on the next hill. He was on the scent of prey. The Intelligence Officer briskly walked north. “I would give a year’s pay for a rifle,” he grumbled. The wolf seemed to be getting closer. Then he heard the rumble of engines. Fearing legionnaires, he was about to dash into the forest. But, it was just motorcycles. It was a large group of motorcycle enthusiasts. They were a rough looking bunch of both humans and spiders. He felt surrounded. Suddenly fighting off wolves seemed appealing.
“Did your car break down?” asked a human female biker. “What are you doing way out here in the middle of nowhere by yourself?”
“I am communing with nature,” replied the Military Intelligence Officer. “I like being by myself.”
“You will be communing with wolves if you stay out here,” advised the human female. “Do you need a ride? You can ride bitch with me.”
“Yes. Thank you,” said the Military Intelligence Officer. “You are very kind.”
The Military Intelligence Officer wrapped his four arms around the female human. Not being familiar with human customs and taboos, he put his hands and claw on all the wrong places The female human immediately gave him a sharp elbow to his mid section. “Yo, Mr. Hands!” she yelled. “Don’t be groping me! We just met. I don’t even know your name!”
“I am sorry,” said the Military Intelligence Officer. “I thought it appropriate to hang onto whatever appendages were available.”
“You thought? That was your first mistake,” said the human female. “I’ll decide what is available and appropriate.”
“I apologize,” said the Military Intelligence Officer. “My bad.”
“What is your name?” asked human female.
“I do not have a name,” said the Military Intelligence Officer. “I have only my rank.”
“Rank? I’ll call you Hands,” said the human female. “My name is Amber. I’m Amber because I’m always red-hot.”
“Yes, you are a very warm-blooded human pestilence,” said Hands, as he held onto her again. “Is this better?”
“No!” said Amber, slapping his appendages away. “Get your hands off my breasts.”
“I think he likes you,” commented another female biker, a spider. She had been listening intently to her friend’s conversation. “If you do not want him, I will take the big boy off your hands.” The spider female reached out and caressed Hands’ backside.
“Get back on your bike!” said Amber. “I saw him first.”
“My name is Black Widow,” said the female spider. She opened her vest, revealing a large red hourglass painted on her exoskeleton chest. “Do you think my tat is pretty?”
“You are very beautiful,” said Hands. “You remind me of Queen Rainbow.”
“Do you know Rainbow?” asked Amber, excitedly. “Rainbow is one of our sisters!”
“That makes you princesses,” said Hands. “You are beautiful princesses, indeed.”
“That is so sweet,” said Amber. “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”
“Yes,” said Hands. “You have an exotic beauty to you.”
“Do you want me?” asked Amber. “I am available now.”
“What?” asked Hands, tapping his translation device. This piece of junk needs adjustment, he thought.
“You said I am beautiful,” said Amber. “What do you find attractive about me?”
“Your long, flowing, purple hair is very attractive,” said Hands. “And the mythical beast you have tattooed on your arm is very
charming.”
“That is not mythical,” said Amber. “It’s a scorpion. They’re real.”
“Well, it looks very hot on you,” said Hands, hoping he was getting a grasp of proper human pestilence slang. “And you carry yourself very proudly. I like that.”
“Why are you covered in dirt?” asked Amber. “You look like someone buried you alive.”
“I buried myself trying to keep warm in the forest,” said Hands. “It is an old survival trick. It must have worked. I am alive.”
Amber shrugged. “I’ve had filthier riders,” she said. “But when we get to Battle Creek, I am giving you a bath. You do take baths?”
I am very much looking forward to a hot bath,” said Hands. “I must look disreputable.”
“I do not think he quite understands you,” said Black Widow. “He thinks he will be bathing by himself.”
“Not likely,” said Amber. “This big guy is a keeper.”
“What do you mean keeper?” asked Hands, now feeling uncomfortable. He was used to brushing off pushy spider females, but this human female took him by surprise. And, she seemed dangerous. Amber carried several knifes, and at least one gun. He had misunderstood her intentions until now. What to do, he thought.
“I think he is a virgin,” said Black Widow. “Oh my.”
“Nonsense,” said Hands. “I have had lots of conquests.”
“Not with humans,” said Black Widow.
“It’s not that unusual,” said Amber, shrugging as they started their bikes. The Hell’s Angels waited as a Legion convoy went by. Human and spider legionnaires waved and shouted approvingly at the biker babes as they went by.
“Why are you riding to Battle Creek?” asked Hands. “There is nothing much there.”
“We are delivering drugs to the border,” said Amber. She reached into a pouch and popped a pill. “Want one? It will give you an entirely new outlook on the day.”
“Are those mind-altering drugs?” asked Hands.
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion Page 15