America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 1: Feeling Lucky (6 page)

“
I want to drop something at
this address.” I handed Sergeant Mendoza a note with Mr. Depoli’s
New Boston Heights address on it. “You know, dropped from 100 miles
up.”

“
Fancy part of town,”
commented Sergeant Mendoza. “Sorry, I don’t do murders.”

“
Who said anything about
murder?” I asked innocently. “Think of it as a prank. Scan the
house to make sure no one is inside. I just want to send a
message.”

“
I can’t do it. After your
little incident with the grenade, inspectors will by crawling all
over my inventories to make sure all ordinance is accounted for,”
explained Mendoza.

“
You will have no problem
with inventories,” I said, sliding my backpack off my shoulders and
unzipping it. I pulled out a basketball-sized rock. “Use
this.”

“
What’s your problem with
this Depoli guy?” asked Sergeant Mendoza.

“
Depoli? He’s the lawyer
that tried to unplug me at the hospital.”

“
A lawyer? Well, why didn’t
you say so in the first place? But it will cost you.”

CHAPTER 7

I didn’t really understand quantum physics. I
knew quantum physics and some fancy tricks with artificially
generated wormholes allowed our instant communications across the
galaxy. It had something to do with the radio waves being in two
places at one time. Somehow the science geeks figured out a way for
objects to be in two places at one time, too. That gave us our
prized beam technology, enabling me to transport directly from
Space Station Lech Welesha to the USGF troop transport T. Roosevelt
in orbit around New Colorado. I was greeted by Staff Sergeant Eddie
Wilson, who seemed very glad to see me.

“
Welcome to the front,
Corporal Czerinski,” said Sergeant Wilson, as he shook my hand. “We
can sure use your vast combat experience. None of us has
any.”

“
You’re one of the guys I
just saw on BHTV a couple hours ago,” I said, amazed. “What combat
experience are you talking about?”

“
Don’t be modest,” said
Sergeant Wilson. “I’ve read your file. In fact, that’s why you’re
here. You have done black ops from California to China. You were
even in on the L.A. hostage rescue.”

“
East L.A.?” I asked, trying
to remember news accounts from that time. I needed to read my card
to see what all Sergeant Mendoza put into it. “I don’t really want
to talk about it, Sergeant. All those operations are supposed to be
classified to prevent terrorists from going after our
families.”

“
I still can’t believe it.
The Hero of East L.A. in my platoon. How’s that head wound doing?
Looks near completely healed up,” said Sergeant Wilson, eying my
forehead as we walked down a passageway to my quarters.

“
Stop it!” I said, getting
irritated.

“
Here, meet some of the
other members of our platoon. Privates Manny Lopez, Tyrone Green,
Morris Nesbit – our newest – and Billie Kool, our radio
man.”

“
I just saw most of you
talking on TV,” I said, as I shook hands. “You all are like famous
movie stars now.”

When I shook Private Nesbit’s hand, he
freaked out, yelling, “It’s you!” He grabbed me by the throat.

I expertly broke the choke hold, flipped
Private Nesbit over my shoulder, and slammed him onto the ground as
I kicked him in the ribs. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” I
yelled, looking down at him.

“
You’re the reason I’m
here!” Private Nesbit yelled back. “I had a nice job at Harrah’s,
and you talked me into shooting up an ATM. The police found my
fingerprints on your gun, and they arrested me along with Bubba
Jones. I got fined and had a choice between being thrown out an
airlock, or enlisting in the reserves for the enlistment bonus. I
had to pay off the fine, so I enlisted. And now we’re at war. You
ruined my life!”

“
Shut up!” I ordered, as I
kicked him in the ribs again.

“
You know Bubba Jones?”
asked Private Green.

“
Yeah. I had Bubba and two
his associates thrown out an airlock on Mars,” I answered. “Nesbit,
do you want to be next to get tossed out an airlock?”

“
So that’s what happened to
Bubba,” commented Private Green, slapping me on the back. “I heard
he got killed, but I didn’t know how. Good. I owed that punk a lot
of money. If I get through this crazy spider war, I want to buy you
a drink on sweet Mother Earth. You’re the man!”

“
This is the Hero of East
L.A.,” said Sergeant Wilson. “Even Bubba Jones couldn’t mess with
him. At least not more than once.”

“
El paso puesto en la capa
del Superhombre,” added Private Lopez.

“
Just leave Nesbit there,”
said Sergeant Wilson. “Call a medic. I don’t care. Czerinski, we
need to talk in private.” He led me away from the others toward my
quarters and lowered his tone. “We are jumping at dawn. Store your
personal gear and get some sleep. When you wake up, the captain’s
briefing will already be on your notepad, and your gear will be all
laid out for you. Sorry about the rush, but things are about to
happen big time.”

“
You’re kidding? Right?” I
asked.

“
I’m so relieved that
someone with combat experience will be leading the platoon,”
Sergeant Wilson said, putting his hand on my shoulder again as I
opened the door to my quarters and threw my duffle inside. “They’ll
respect and follow you.”

“
What?” I asked, alarmed.
“Where are
you
going to be?”

“
I’ll be right there with
you,” said Sergeant Wilson. “The problem is, I’ve never seen
combat. I’m a bit nervous about the prospect. I spent my whole
career shuffling computer data and reviewing combat video. Don’t
worry, we’re all in this together. See you at dawn.”

Dawn came soon enough. I read Captain McGee’s
briefing, and headed for the muster room. Alone. Weapons and
equipment were laid out, and the platoon was packing up. I looked
at my notepad one more time, and began the briefing. “Good morning
gentlemen. Some of you have met me already. I am Corporal
Czerinski. I’ll be leading you on our jump,” I said, reading from
my computer notepad. “Sergeant Wilson will not be making the jump
today because he accidentally shot his foot off last night while
cleaning his rifle.” Surprised, I reread that last line to myself
to make sure I got it right.

The platoon immediately started complaining.
“That pussy,” said Private Green. “I’m going to kick Wilson’s ass
when I catch up with him.”

“
Don’t worry,” I said.
“Sergeant Wilson will join us in a few days when he gets his new
metal foot. Meanwhile, he will be monitoring our camera video and
advising us as our mission progress.”

“
That fool can
monitor
this
,”
yelled Private Lopez from the back of muster, grabbing his
crotch.

“
Also, Lieutenant Norris is
still missing from yesterday’s flyover of the LZ. Satellite photos
of the area indicate we should be unopposed in our landing. The LZ
is in one of the lesser nuked areas of the planet, so there is
still some tree cover obscuring potential spider positions and
holes.” I opened a box of supplies and started passing out bottles
of pills. “These are anti-rad pills. You take one pill a day and
you should be safe from the radiation. Private Nesbit! Where are
you?”

“
In the back,” answered
Private Nesbit.

“
You will be carrying seven
nuclear grenades.”

“
What? Why me? I have enough
to carry without more weight. Besides, my ribs still hurt from
yesterday, and the pain meds are wearing off,” complained Nesbit.
“I need to go to sick call again.”

“
Great,” commented Private
Kool. “A man on drugs will be carrying nukes.” Everyone laughed
except Private Nesbit.

“
Nesbit,” I said, throwing
him another bottle of pills. “Take this extra bottle. You need to
take at least two pills a day.”

“
Two pills a day? Why? Are
these nukes giving off radiation?” he asked as he packed the bombs
in to his backpack. “I know what this is all about, Czerinski. You
just don’t like me.”

“
Nonsense,” I replied.
“These nukes are perfectly safe. Trust me, you have nothing to
worry about. Besides. They cured cancer over a hundred years
ago.”

“
Nukes aren’t safe. Everyone
knows that,” protested Nesbit, but not as loudly. He was resigned
to the task at hand.

“
Private Elena Ceausescu!” I
called out, going down my platoon list. “You are going to be our
medic. Load up with a bunch of medical stuff.”

“
Medic? I don’t know
anything about being a medic,” she protested. “Why me?”

“
Because you fight like a
girl,” answered Private Lopez.

“
Macho pig,” shouted Private
Ceausescu, throwing an entrenching tool. The small shovel clattered
off his helmet “I’ll mess you up!”

“
Puta,” responded Private
Lopez. “Bring it on!”

“
I can shoot as good as
anyone in this platoon.,” said Private Ceausescu.

“
You can nurse me anytime,”
said Private Green, suggestively.

“
You’re a good shot?” I
asked. “Later you can show me how my rifle works. This type is new
to me.”

“
Are you sexually harassing
me?” asked Private Ceausescu. “I won’t put up with
that.”

“
What does he mean, show me
how my rifle works?” asked Lopez. “The corporal don’t know how to
operate his M26A? I thought he was the Hero of East
L.A.”

“
He’s just got the hots for
Ceausescu,” answered Private Kool. “He was joking.”

“
Quiet!” I yelled. A green
light flashed on my notepad. “Load up! Move out to the beam
transfer station for jump!”

CHAPTER 8

If one could get past all the nuclear
devastation, radioactivity, and death, the beauty of the planet at
dawn was breathtaking. #100, the lowest ranking private in a
company of imperial spider shock troops, had drawn guard duty,
again. #100 didn’t mind. He liked the fresh air and was admiring
the bright orange sun-up. No one bothered #100 or ordered him
around when he was all by himself, guarding the entrance to the
company’s underground habitat bunker. Web was strung about to
detect movement. Web seemed so low tech, but it had advantages. No
officer was going to sneak up on him. #100 didn’t like officers
much. They were so arrogant. Officers thought they knew what is
best for everyone. Officers were probably responsible for helping
to start this war with the human pestilence. He didn’t really think
much about why the war started. #100 was born into the military
caste, so when the Emperor ordered the military to rid New Colorado
of the human pestilence, he was willing to do his duty. The Emperor
said the presence of the human pestilence in spider space was like
a dagger being held at the throat of the Empire. That was enough
for #100. The decision to invade a human colony was made by the
Emperor, his Cabinet, and the General Staff. Those powers were much
smarter than he was.

But none of that mattered to
#100. Military life bored him. He longed to be a musician. However,
the caste laws were inflexible without money. The war had started
out as an adventure, but now it just interfered with his other
interests. The human pestilence hadn’t put up much resistance. This
planet did not have any kind of organized military. A few
individuals fought with small firearms, but they soon died. The
rest were rounded up, and the towns nuked. The only industry on
this planet called ‘New Colorado’ by the human pestilence was
underground mining. The human pestilence was similar to spiders in
that they worked underground. #100 noticed humans tended to sleep
above ground. Prisoners housed underground insisted that guards
leave a light on.
Very peculiar.
A spider soldier could stay motionless in total
darkness for days and not be bothered. Another oddity, the humans
seemed to never stay still. They were always fidgeting or scurrying
about. #100 guessed that was how low-tech creatures
behaved.

Now, just when the war
appeared to be over, the human star ships arrived and swept the
Empire fleet from the heavens. It was a sucker punch, groused #100.
They just appeared out of nowhere and hit when no one was looking.
And then the human pestilence bombarded the grunts on the ground
with nukes. Thousands of miles of tunnels and habitats protected
the Empire’s entrenchment, but it meant everyone would be here a
while. All the human pestilence accomplished was to ruin the
planet’s ecology and fry a lot of our high-tech equipment.
We are here to stay
,
swore #100.

Which reminded #100 to pull
out his communications device and check in. After calling in, he
used the device to play a video game. There was nothing left to do,
now that the humans finally got tired of bombing the planet. Or
maybe the humans ran out of bombs. Either way, now all they could
do was wait for the Empire fleet to return.
Boring.
How to pass the time? #100
brightened. The only good that had come from fighting the human
pestilence was the stimulants taken off the human prisoners. Coffee
was great, but #100 had quickly consumed all his captured coffee.
#100 pulled out a bottle of vodka from his bag and took a swig.
Then he lit a cigarette.
Tobacco.
It was much better than the fungus grown in the
tunnels back home. But, best of all was the marijuana. The stuff
was so relaxing. #100 took out a baggie, rolled a cigarette, and
lit up. Then he pulled out a sandwich and took a bite. The sun was
just coming up.
Spectacular.
The sun’s rays shone through all the dust kicked
up by the nukes.
Awesome.
#100 took off his camouflage head cloth to cool
off. His exoskeleton was already heating up. It was going to be hot
today. Along the tree line in front of him the glint of something
metallic reflected off the sunlight. Now, what could that
be?