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

by Walter Knight

  “I hope so,” said Amber, still offering a pill. “These pills are worth a lot of money.”

  “No thank you,” said Hands. “I need a clear head. Do you not realize the misery that results from drug-dealing? Drugs cause brain damage.”

  “My homes have been nuked three times,” said Amber. “I can handle the danger. If others can’t, that’s their problem.” The motorcycle lurched out onto the roadway. “Hold on tight! Grope me if you want!”

  Hands held on tight as the bikers hit the road. When they passed the Legion convoy, he even joined in and gave them the one-fingered salute.

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  Chapter 16

  I met General Kalipetsis in a conference room just prior to another round of negotiations with the new Governor. The captured Dachshund was at my side.

  “You brought a wiener dog to important negotiations?” asked General Kalipetsis. “It might have fleas. I really don’t need the distraction.”

  Sampson growled at the general, pulling at his leash and snapping.

  “This dog represents the spoils of war,” I said. “It was captured with those spies we caught last week at the border crossing. I am giving you the Dachshund as a gift.”

  “Nonsense,” said General Kalipetsis. “I can’t be seen walking a stupid little wiener dog like that. I have a reputation and image to maintain. I see a bright career in politics in my future.”

  “General Patton, the greatest American general ever, had a little mutt that followed him around everywhere. There was nothing wrong with Patton’s reputation.”

  “General Patton?” asked a surprised General Kalipetsis, now checking the database. “By God, you’re right. He had a bull terrier named Willie – William the Conqueror. And Willie even had his own set of dog tags.”

  “I guarantee the Governor will be extremely irritated when he sees Sampson,” I said. “He knows the Dachshund was with the spies.”

  “It will be worth it just to upset the Governor,” commented General Kalipetsis, taking Sampson by the leash. “I like the name Sampson. It sounds strong and biblical. Get Sampson his own set of dog tags, too,” General Kalipetsis ordered. “Come on, wiener dog, lets go meet the enemy.”

  Sampson continued to be upset, barking and snarling until they were seated at the negotiations conference table. The Governor noticed the Dachshund. His mandibles twitched as he made an entry on his note tablet.

  “I have five demands that are not negotiable,” announced the Governor, reading from a list. “One, the Legion recently kidnapped twenty humanitarian aid workers at a border crossing right here in Battle Creek. These missionaries are to be released immediately. Two, I want face-to-face interviews with all Arthropodan citizens still detained at the New Disneyland Prison. Three, I want permanent observers in place in New Disneyland to guarantee that spiders with duel citizenship are not abused. Four, I demand open elections to determine when New Disneyland will be brought back into the Empire. And five, I demand that little wiener dog be returned immediately. He is the property of the Arthropodan military.”

  The Dachshund lunged at the Governor, attempting to chew an ankle.

  “I am informed that Sampson does not like being called ‘little’ or a ‘wiener dog,’” I advised. “You obviously are insensitive and would make a poor Dachshund owner. Repatriation of the dog is not negotiable, for fear of abuse.”

  “That canine is valuable, highly trained Imperial property,” said the Governor, getting out of his chair and leaning forward. “You will release him at once!”

  “Why?” I asked, also rising. “So you can eat him for lunch?”

  The Governor removed his dress white gloves from his belt and slapped me across the face. “I challenge you to a duel on a field of honor.”

  I threw a punch at the Governor, but General Kalipetsis and his aides pulled me back, causing my swing to go wild. “Are you serious?” I yelled.

  “Choose your weapons,” said the Governor. “I believe that is your Old Earth custom.”

  “Dueling was outlawed centuries ago,” I said, now calm. “I will not participate in a duel or any other grandiose spectacle.”

  “Coward!” accused the Governor. “I have read your human pestilence history on the database. All your great warriors dueled. Even your modern presidents dueled.”

  “It’s illegal,” I repeated. “Dueling has been relegated to the dust of antiquity.”

  “You are just chicken,” said the Governor. “I have researched the matter. Dueling is only illegal on Earth. There is no such prohibition on your ill-begotten colonies.”

  “Go ahead and fight him,” suggested General Kalipetsis. “I think you can take him. You aren’t afraid are you?”

  “Yes,” I answered in a low voice. “He was Special Forces before he became Governor. Besides knowing martial arts, that bug probably has some nasty fighting tricks up his claw.”

  “Choose your weapons,” repeated the Governor. “If you dare!”

  “Tanks,” I said. “Howitzers at dawn.”

  “Duels are fought with personal weapons,” said the Governor. “I suggest sabers.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” I said. “How about I just shoot you now and get it over with?”

  “Challenge him to a boxing match,” suggested General Kalipetsis. “Hopefully no one will get killed.”

  “Boxing?” asked the Governor, checking the database. “What is boxing?”

  “Boxing is fighting for sport with padded gloves,” said General Kalipetsis. “It’s been a traditional sport on Earth for centuries.”

  “I like boxing,” said the Governor, after viewing hits on the database for several minutes. “I will float like a butterfly, and sting like a bee.”

  “I accept,” I said. “Care to put a wager on the outcome?”

  “Not money,” said the Governor.

  “Chicken?” I asked. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

  “If I win, the Legion will immediately agree to all demands stated earlier,” said the Governor.

  “The Dachshund stays,” said General Kalipetsis.

  “Fine,” said the Governor. “And if, by some miracle of God, you win?”

  “All Arthropodan military units must withdraw to East Finisterra,” I demanded.

  The Governor hesitated. “I agree,” he said. “I cannot lose. My three fists and one claw will easily defeat your two puny fleshy hands.”

  “Keep trying to convince yourself, and maybe the delusion will seem real after a while,” I taunted. “Just remember, reality sucks, and then you die. I look forward to seeing your lips, or whatever, hit the mat.”

  * * * * *

  When the Hell’s Angels got to Battle Creek, the town was full of legionnaires. Both the spider Governor and General Kalipetsis were in town for treaty negotiations. Both sides wanted to impress the other and had beefed up their military presence.

  The Hell’s Angels were turned away at the border for being outlaws. That was fine with Amber. She did not need to cross the border to meet her contact and conduct business. Amber merely needed to wait until he came on duty at the spider checkpoint. When her contact finally arrived, Amber ran up to greet him with a handshake and a hug. The Military Intelligence Officer recognized the contact, too. It was his long-lost team leader.

  “Sir!” exclaimed the team leader. “You escaped? I thought you were sent south to the New Disneyland Prison. I am so glad to see you.”

  “And I thought you had been shot dead by the Legion,” said the Military Intelligence Officer. “I am glad to see you, too. You are dealing drugs? How long has this been going on?”

  “I can explain,” said the team leader. “This is just a small part of a large business plan.”

  “You two know each other?” asked Amber. “How is that possible?”

  “He is my commanding officer,” said the team leader. “He is in charge of Military Intelligence for this entire sector.”

  “You’re a narc?�
�� asked Amber, drawing her pistol. “You’re dead!”

  “Wait!” warned the team leader. “Not here. Shots will draw too much attention. Put that gun away.”

  “Just give me the money, and we’ll make the transaction,” said Amber. “You do have the money?”

  “I am a little short,” said the team leader. “I need more time to raise it. You know I am good for the money. I have it. I just have a small cash flow problem.”

  “I don’t know that at all, and I am not a credit agency,” said Amber, now pointing her nine millimeter at the team leader. “If you think you can burn me like this, you have made your last mistake.”

  The Military Intelligence Officer grabbed the gun from Amber and shoved her away from the guard shack. Amber and the other Hell’s Angels quickly dispersed from the border crossing as legionnaires and spider soldiers, attracted by the commotion, came running up to investigate. The Military Intelligence Officer placed his team leader under arrest, and ordered him interrogated for accomplices. Then, he joined the Governor at the negotiations to brief him.

  * * * * *

  The fight between the Governor of the North Territory and myself promised to be even bigger than the dragon fight. Legion engineers bulldozed an airstrip in the forest so that fight fans and the media could fly in. Engineers also built an outdoor arena. The fight was being promoted as ‘The Second Battle of Battle Creek.’

  The unofficial betting line from New Memphis had me favored at two to one. However, most legionnaires from First Division were not placing their bets until they got the nod from Guido. And, Guido was not placing his bets until he had a chance to talk to me first. I summoned Guido to my office to talk to him about another matter.

  “Corporal Tonelli, we don’t get to talk often enough,” I said. “But I’ll get right to the point. At the negotiations today, the Spider Governor handed me an Imperial warrant for your arrest. It seems they think you are involved in a conspiracy to smuggle dangerous drugs across the border. Your co-conspirator is one of the spiders that you let escape your custody. Interestingly, the charging officer is the other spider that escaped your custody. When I add to that the incident with Gotti being captured while you two were on guard duty together, I think you have some serious explaining to do. If the spiders don’t put you in front of a firing squad, the Legion probably will.”

  “Legionnaires can’t be extradited to a hostile power,” said Guido. “I deny any wrongdoing.”

  “Let me shoot him,” said Captain Lopez. “I’ll bury him myself.”

  “Forget the legalese,” I said, ignoring Lopez. “General Kalipetsis wants this matter resolved. Come clean, or this won’t end well for you.”

  “Technically I am guilty of everything,” said Guido. “But there are extenuating circumstances. I only survived Gotti’s abduction because I paid off an old spider friend. Later I let him escape to square us and to try to get some of my money back. You can understand that can’t you? That same commando used my money on land speculation and to fund some questionable deals, maybe involving drugs. But there is another more important and urgent matter that I need to discuss with you.”

  “More important than charges of treason, drug trafficking, and multiple counts of criminal conspiracy?” I asked. “This I have to hear!”

  “Yes,” said Guido. “You need to take a dive when you fight the Governor. Preferably, not until the third round.”

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  Chapter 17

  Thousands bought tickets for the fight, with the proceeds going to the First Division’s Widows and Orphans Fund. The media was broadcasting the fight across the galaxy. Even Cable TV promised to have secret cameras at the fight. Rumors were that the President and the Emperor would attend the fight, and special secure box seats were being built. The betting odds from New Memphis had increased in my favor three to one.

  The referee was the Sheriff of New Memphis. During pre-fight preliminaries, he walked to both corners to check each corner and to say a few words about what he expected from us. The Sheriff wanted no head-butting, biting, clutching, kicking, or spitting. When the Sheriff checked my gloves, he immediately became suspicious. When I was forced to remove my gloves, the Sheriff found a roll of coins in each glove. The Sheriff advised me I would lose a point for unsportsmanlike conduct. I told the Sheriff I knew where he lived.

  The Sheriff made the same inspection of the Governor’s gloves, and found a mysterious brown powder. When the Sheriff slapped the gloves, the powder hung in the air and stung his eyes. Its smell burned the throat and nose. When asked about the powder, the Governor dismissed it as a minor detail and told the Sheriff to go talk to the trainer. A point was deducted, and the fight was delayed until new gloves could be found. In the meantime, the Governor strutted around the ring, playing to the audience and yelling, “The human pestilence will fall!”

  * * * * *

  ROUND ONE: After we touched gloves in a show of sportsmanship, my first few punches were thrown below the belt. The Sheriff separated us and penalized me a point. I argued that spiders didn’t have testicles and so it didn’t matter where I hit him, but the Sheriff insisted that all boxing rules would be enforced. I continued to hit low. I kept my forearms tucked in and my gloves up, trying to protect my face and midsection. The Governor, who was lighter and quicker on his four feet, circled and jabbed. I was cut above my left eye early on by the Governor’s claw. Even padded, the claw was a formidable weapon. I threw a lot of punches and expended a lot of energy. I hoped to wear the governor down with low punches and punches to his midsection. However, when the bell rang, ending the first round, the Governor seemed as fresh as ever. My blows seemed to bounce off the spider’s exoskeleton. Not only did my punches seem to have no force left in them, but my arms were getting tired and heavy. I had to throw my whole body forward to deliver a punch. This was not a good start, but I think the scoring was even.

  ROUND TWO: I was still breathing hard, but the rest as I sat in my corner did me good. I came out with a flurry of low punches. By now the Sheriff had given up trying to stop all the low blows, and I ignored his warnings. Gradually, the Governor lowered his fists to protect against low blows. My arms were getting heavy again. I needed to end this with one big punch. When the Governor lowered his gloves to protect himself, I feinted low and landed a roundhouse punch to the Governor’s face. My prosthetic hand gave the blow extra impact, knocking the Governor flat on his back. The referee began counting, but the Governor slowly got back up. One of his mandibles was broken and hanging from his bleeding face. The Governor nodded to the ref that he wanted to continue. The Governor circled, cautiously throwing jabs to keep me away. I tried to finish him off by throwing a series of head punches, but the Governor just danced out of range and ducked my punches. I was disappointed, but it did not matter. I was too tired to finish him off. My punches had no snap left in them. Even when I landed a punch, it had no effect. I tried to hold onto the Governor, scraping him with my glove laces and hitting him with elbows. By the end of the round, the Governor had hit me in the head with multiple punches. When the bell rang I staggered back to my corner.

  ROUND THREE: I hoped I might be ahead on points because I had knocked the Governor down with the hardest punch of the night. Now, I was evading punches, hoping to rest my arms and get my second wind. It didn’t work. My strategy only gave the Governor more confidence, and I was still dead tired. He chased my about the ring. One punch to the head hit me so hard that the back of my neck hurt. As the end of the third round neared, the Governor caught me with a claw hook to my chin. I dropped to the canvas like a bag of potatoes. As the Sheriff began the ten count, the Governor leaned down and hissed in my ear, “Third round, just like Guido wanted. Good fight, legionnaire.”

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  Chapter 18

  Guido brought a suitcase of money by my hospital room. My jaw was broken, wired shut, so Guido did most of the talking.

  “Major, you put on a gre
at show,” said Guido. “You had me worried in the second round when you knocked the Governor off his feet. I actually thought for a moment that you were trying to win the fight.”

  “Not me,” I mumbled.

  “Sorry about your jaw getting broken and that nasty cut above your eye,” said Guido. “The Governor sends his apologies, too.”

  “Whatever,” I mumbled again.

  “If it’s any consolation,” said Guido, “the Governor is in the hospital, too. I think they’re using super glue to put his face back together again.”

  “That does make me feel better,” I said. It hurt to talk.

  “Almost every legionnaire in First Division bet against you after I gave them the word,” said Guido. “They’re all rich now. You’re everyone’s hero. Even General Kalipetsis made money.”

  “When I get out of the hospital, I’m going to shoot someone,” I promised. “I don’t know who yet, but you had better make yourself scarce.”

  “What are you upset about?” asked Guido. “Everyone, including you, made good money. What is your problem? Pride? Ego?”

  “Did that fight just happen?” I asked. “Or was it planned? Was I manipulated?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” said Guido. “It was your idea to fight the Governor. All I did was see an opportunity to make some money. That’s what I do.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “You had better hope I don’t find out otherwise.”

  * * * * *

  When I got out of the hospital, I was ordered by General Kalipetsis to supervise a fair and open referendum to decide the fate of New Disneyland. The ballot would ask whether New Disneyland should join the Arthropodan Empire or stay in the United States Galactic Federation. I thought the mostly spider population would vote overwhelmingly to go back to the Empire, but surprisingly polling data of registered voters showed sentiment to be close. Many spiders had no desire to be ruled by an Emperor and his Intelligentsia.