Culture War

by Walter Knight

  My office was destroyed again. It seemed that in every skirmish, my office was the first thing the spiders hit. I searched through Legion Headquarters, looking for mementos and personal property. I shook my fist at the spiders across the MDL and took satisfaction in seeing the Marriott Hotel on their side was still burning. That’s what they get for putting communications and radar equipment on the roof.

  I got an anonymous email saying Major Lopez was soon to be moved by shuttle to a holding facility at the Capital City Spaceport. The transfer would be made late at night. The shuttle would experience mechanical difficulties. “Be ready,” said the message.

  That night Major Lopez was strapped to a gurney and taken to a waiting shuttle. The same Air Wing commander Major Lopez had met at the Marriott supervised the loading, then piloted the takeoff. The shuttle quickly gained altitude, banked to the left, and stalled. It dropped quickly, spiraling as it went down. Ejection pods activated, spewing passengers and pilots safely away from the shuttle. Major Lopez’s escape pod drifted to the Legion side of the MDL, where he was repatriated.

  * * * * *

  When the shooting had started, Guido ducked into the bunker underneath his guard shack. After the all-clear, he found his guard shack wrecked. The floor was covered with water from a bullet-ridden air-conditioner and busted plumbing. The shatterproof windows had more bullet holes.

  Guido stormed across the MDL to confront the spider guard in the Arthropodan guard shack. All truck traffic had been closed again, so the spider guard had all four feet propped up on his desk, reading the USA Today sports section.

  “Did you shoot my guard shack?” asked Guido. “That’s my office! That’s my home! My air-conditioner is ruined!”

  “No, Guido, I swear,” said the spider guard. “I would not do that.”

  “Someone did,” accused Guido, taking the spider guard’s assault rifle off its rack and pulling out the half-empty taped banana clips. “I think it was you!”

  “You aren’t supposed to be on this side of the MDL,” said the spider guard. “Are you trying to get me in trouble? What if my team leader comes by and sees you playing with my rifle?”

  Guido threw the half empty banana clips at the spider guard and shouted, “Explain the missing rounds, you asshole! Explain all the shell casings outside! How could you shoot up my house? Do you realize how much personal property I had inside?”

  “I’m sorry, Guido,” said the spider guard. “I just got caught up in the excitement of the war. Wars don’t happen every day, you know. Your side shot first. Ha, we won!”

  Guido fired a still-chambered round through the ceiling and tossed the assault rifle aside. “How would you like it if I shot up your house?”

  “You just did,” complained the spider guard, inspecting his ceiling. “It better not rain soon. I said I was sorry. What more can I do? By the way, can you put me down for five hundred dollars on the Seattle Seahawks?”

  “Sure,” said Guido, entering the transaction into his pad. “But this isn’t over!”

  The sound of gunfire attracted the spider team leader. “Guido! What are you doing on this side of the MDL?” asked the team leader. “Don’t force me to arrest you!”

  “You and whose army?” asked Guido. “This asshole shot up my guard shack. Who is going to pay for my air-conditioner? Who is going to fix all the damage?”

  “That’s just the fortunes of war,” explained the spider team leader. “Get back to your side of the MDL before you start another war.”

  Guido tromped back over to the Legion side. “I am deducting the cost of repairs from your Yankees World Series winnings!” yelled Guido. “How do you like them apples?”

  “What did he say?” asked the team leader. “Apples? You can’t do that! It’s unethical. I will file a complaint with Saviano Juardo. Saviano is a personal friend of mine!”

  Guido gave the team leader the one-fingered salute across the MDL. Air-conditioning was a necessity. Even this late in the year, the temperatures in New Gobi could exceed ninety degrees. Guido picked up the phone to order repairs and installation of a new air-conditioner, but the phone was broken.

  “You will pay for my phone!” shouted Guido, gesturing at the spiders again.

  “Hey Guido!” the team leader yelled back. “Put me down for a thousand on the Seahawks, too! Okay?”

  Guido let Spot off his leash and sent the highly trained killer dragon across the MDL. Both spiders rushed to their guard shack just in time to get the door closed. Spot gnashed his teeth and snout against the Plexiglas window, smearing it with spittle. The spider team leader removed a dragon biscuit from his pouch that he carried just for occasions like this one, and tossed it out to Spot. The large monitor dragon soon lost interest in eating spiders and began begging for another biscuit. The team leader threw out an M&M’s chocolate bar next. Guido, now more upset than ever, called spot back. Spot refused.

  “Traitor!” said Guido, dragging Spot back across the border and leashing the dragon by the door. “This is still not over!”

  “That was not very neighborly!” yelled the spider team leader. “You will laugh at this moment someday!”

  “You want to play war?” yelled Guido. “I’ll show you the true meaning of war! I ought to let Juardo whack both of you!”

  “Guido is kind of touchy, isn’t he?” observed the spider team leader. “He has no sense of humor lately.”

  “It’s just human nature,” replied the spider guard. “Human pestilence are very volatile, especially when they get shot at.”

  “Odd,” said the spider team leader. “Guido needs to take a chill pill. Next war, try not to cause so much damage.”

  Later that day a spider construction crew built Guido a new guard shack and installed a new air-conditioner and plumbing. A new phone arrived gift wrapped with a ribbon bow. The message on the card said, “To Guido, our favorite human pestilence. Hope you like your new phone. Please place another thousand on the Seahawks so I can pay for your new house. You know I’m good for it.”

  * * * * *

  “You look like hell,” I said, shaking Major Lopez’s hand. “How did you escape? Did your pilot contact help you?”

  “Apparently so,” replied Major Lopez. “We should pay him again.”

  “The CIA can handle that. Your spooks have deep pockets.”

  “I am going to kill that spider marine commander,” said Major Lopez. “All that time we played poker together, I thought he was a decent sort. I know better now. He’s a vicious punk.”

  “He’s just doing his job.”

  “I’ll kill him anyway.”

  “Did you tell the spiders much?” I asked.

  “They wanted to know who I contacted at the Marriott. I told them everything but that. I even told them your personal phone number.”

  “No big deal,” I said. “Everyone has my number. Even the insurgency calls me up. If you are feeling better, I have a new mission for you. That spider commando who blew up the radio station is still on the loose. I want you to find him.”

  “I’ll have to go to New Phoenix to interrogate Carlos O’Neil again,” said Major Lopez. “May I kill him?”

  “Not yet. We need to squeeze him for more information. I think his mission was to destroy that captured Arthropodan jet fighter. We need to track down the entire spy network.”

  back to top

  Chapter 6

  I escorted Private Krueger and Dawn to see Pastor Jim for premarital counseling at the New Gobi Church of Scientology. Major Lopez came along in his capacity as a military intelligence officer to research Arthropodan cultural issues. Cultural misunderstandings seemed to be cropping up more often these days.

  Pastor Jim greeted us enthusiastically at the steps to the church and led us to the conference room. After introductions, we sat down to begin in earnest. “Our goal today is to resolve conflicts and issues so that your marriage will prosper,” started Pastor Jim. “We need a frank discussion of roadblocks to your lastin
g happiness so you can achieve new states of spiritual awareness you never thought possible. I start with the premise that you two are basically good, and will only need minimal guidance from me on morality issues. At least that is what Colonel Czerinski has assured me. My hope is that after today, your relationship will be stronger than ever.”

  “Thank you,” said Dawn. “Colonel Czerinski has been very supportive. It was his idea for us to see you.”

  “The Legion has a counseling contract with Pastor Jim,” I added. “We aim to get our money’s worth today.”

  “If there is anything about your future spouse that irritates either of you, now is the time to get such conflicts and issues into the open,” said Pastor Jim. “Too many young couples think they can change their spouse’s perceived bad habits after marriage. Then they get frustrated when their spouse refuses to change and gets angry in return.”

  “I love everything about my little hairball,” said Dawn, giving Private Krueger a hug and kiss. “Willie is perfect.”

  “There are immense cultural differences at play here,” advised Pastor Jim. “Are you sure you cannot think of anything that needs to be resolved before you take your vows? It would be helpful to our discussion.”

  “Together, Willie and I will fight any problem that comes up,” insisted Dawn. “We are in love.”

  “And is there anything about Dawn you would like her to change?” asked Pastor Jim, turning to Private Krueger. “It is very important that you air possible areas of conflict now before marriage rather than let the problems fester. I promise your marriage will be stronger for it.”

  “Well, the only thing that upsets me a little is that she keeps threatening to kill me over every little thing,” said Private Krueger. “I realize it’s just a small cultural issue, but I’m sure she means it.”

  “Of course I mean it,” said Dawn. “How can a relationship grow and last if you aren’t true to your word? You have to mean what you say.”

  “Willie says you threaten him over every little thing,” said Pastor Jim. “Perhaps you could take into account human customs and social norms, and threaten him less often on minor matters? Or maybe just beat him rather than kill him?”

  “You mean like if he doesn’t do the dishes or take out the trash on time?” asked Dawn. “I am an old-fashioned traditional female from New Memphis, but I guess I could relax my standards a little to allow for some cultural differences between species. I love Willie so much.”

  “I think we are making grand progress,” said Pastor Jim.

  “What about the other times Dawn threatens to kill me?” asked Private Krueger. “Her demands are unreasonable.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” said Dawn, starting to cry. “How am I being unreasonable? I only want happiness for us. That’s why I am here.”

  “It’s her sexual demands,” said Private Krueger. “Sometimes she frightens me so badly I almost have a heart attack.”

  “May I record this?” asked Major Lopez, setting a recorder on the table.

  “I don’t know what he is talking about,” said Dawn, smashing the recording device with her claw. “Like I said before, I am an old-fashioned traditional female with old-fashioned traditional needs. Of course I will kill Willie if I do not orgasm every time we have sex. He knew that before we entered into our relationship. But, so far that has not been a problem.”

  “That is more information than I needed to hear,” I blurted, getting up to leave.

  “Every time?” asked Pastor Jim. “That is not reasonable, according to human standards.”

  “Why not?” asked Dawn. “If he gets to, I should too. Besides, that is the promise he made me that first time. I’m holding him to it!”

  “I was drunk,” said Private Krueger. “I would have promised anything to get in. All guys do that.”

  “This is all new ground we are exploring here today,” said Pastor Jim. “You marriage will be the first between species. You might find that some expectations may not be physically possible, especially as you both get older.”

  “No problem,” said Dawn. “If I find out later he doesn’t measure up, I’ll just kill him. You can’t fight centuries of tradition.”

  “This is normal behavior for your species?” asked Pastor Jim.

  “Of course,” said Dawn. “Our males treat their mates with respect.”

  “Now I know why Corporal Washington is always so tired,” commented Pastor Jim, shaking his head. “He has two wives.”

  “I thought spider wives became more submissive after marriage,” I interjected. “That’s what Corporal Wayne told me.”

  “I am a Hell’s Angel,” said Dawn. “I won’t budge from my high standards!”

  “Still, you need to be knowledgeable and respectful of the cultural and physical differences between species,” said Pastor Jim. “Otherwise your marriage may end tragically.”

  “I am knowledgeable,” said Dawn. “I have been reading everything I can about human culture on the database. Even your culture discusses the Black Widow. Do you deny there are black widows on Earth?”

  “No,” said Pastor Jim, “but black widows are not human.”

  “Well neither am I,” said Dawn. “I am keeping my standards. It is important for the social fabric of society that certain standards be respected, maintained, and preserved. I heard that on cable TV just today.”

  “I think this discussion has been very informative and helpful,” said Pastor Jim. “But, I think we need to schedule another follow up session for next week. In the meantime, try to think of ways to resolve your differences, and be prepared to discuss them.”

  “What?” asked Dawn. “We need to move this along and set a date for our wedding. My biological clock is ticking.”

  “I need to do some more research first,” said Pastor Jim. “Perhaps we can also discuss your family plans at our next meeting.”

  “Leave my family out of this,” said Dawn. “Only my sister is invited to the wedding. She’s good looking. You’d like her. The rest of them are nothing but a bunch of drunks and junkies. I’m not a junkie. I only sell blue powder. My sister and I never use. Using is for chumps.”

  “I meant your plans for children,” said Pastor Jim.

  “I want at least fifty.”

  “We might need several sessions.”

  * * * * *

  The wedding announcement for Private Krueger and Dawn was printed in the local New Gobi Newspaper and on the database. The spider Governor of the North Territory called his New Gobi military commander to discuss the matter. “This is just the sort of thing the Emperor was concerned about when he ordered initiatives to be taken against American attacks on our culture,” said the governor. “This wedding has to be stopped.”

  “But both of those young fools are American citizens,” said the spider commander. “And the wedding is taking place on the American side of the MDL. There is nothing I can do about it. The Americans are always stirring their big melting pot. That’s how they got spiders to join their Foreign Legion.”

  “The immoral American melting pot will not be allowed to slop over onto our side of the MDL,” said the spider governor. “You have operatives working in the South. Bomb the wedding. Make it look like the insurgency is responsible.”

  “What?” asked the spider commander. “I am not going to bomb a wedding. Are you crazy?”

  “How dare you question my orders!” yelled the governor. “I’ll have you up on charges!”

  “Oh really?” challenged the spider commander. “If my Emperor orders me to bomb a wedding, I will do so. I am my Emperor’s sword. But you do not have that authority. It is you who will be brought up on charges. You want me to bomb a wedding? Put those orders in writing!”

  “Perhaps I may have been a bit hasty,” said the governor, thinking it over a moment. “No harm intended to you, commander.”

  “I don’t believe you,” said the spider commander. “Now you will try to stab me in the back? I hope you know I re
cord all conversations for security purposes.”

  “I rescinded my order to bomb the wedding,” said the governor. “I said I was hasty in my decision. Do not even think about blackmailing me. You will destroy your recording at once. I still want you to use all means at your disposal to stop that wedding. Is that order clear to you?”

  “No,” said the spider commander. “How am I supposed to stop two young fools in love from getting married? Hell, they could elope at any time. And even if I did succeed, there are surely others as foolhardy as those two, making similar plans.”

  “We will deal with one abomination at a time,” said the governor. “Maybe you could use hookers to tempt them. Film the whole sordid affair and put it on the database. The scandal ought to dampen their ardor. Or maybe one of them could be given a virus? Perhaps intervention therapy would force them to use common sense?”

  “Force teenagers to use common sense?” asked the spider commander. “By kidnapping them? That seems risky. I think it’s been tried before, with mixed results.”

  “I’m just thinking out loud,” said the governor. “You know, brainstorming. That’s what I was doing earlier, too. You were right. Bombing the wedding was a bad idea.”

  “Sir, I’ll give the matter some thought,” said the spider commander. “And I am sorry I got so angry at you earlier. You surely meant well. Anyone can have a brain fart.”

  “I do not have brain farts!” said the governor, slamming down the phone. “That commander needs to be more respectful!”

  * * * * *

  The spider commander made a call to the Teamsters’ Union, offering amnesty for Mr. Kennworth and to help in future negotiations for the release of Carlos O’Neil. All the spider commander wanted in return was one little favor. After the call, Mr. Kennworth drove to the safe house in New Phoenix, picked up the spider commando hiding there, and drove straight to the Angry Onion Tavern to kidnap Dawn and Private Willie Krueger. They had not worked out the details of their plan yet, but Mr. Kennworth was confident it would come to them after a round of beers. Perhaps they could even hold Dawn and Willie hostage to trade for Carlos after the military was through with them.