America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 2: Reenlistment (12 page)

Also completed was the city jail. The public
was asked to bring misdemeanants to the jail rather than shooting
and throwing them into the river. We still had no judge, and the
sanitary engineer refused to do two jobs. He’s a member of the
Teamster’s Union, and Teamsters don’t do anything extra.

Elmo, a habitually drunk spider, held the
distinction of being the first inmate trustee at the new city jail.
Elmo’s cell was never locked, and he came and went as he pleased.
One of Elmo’s jobs in the morning was to wash the Legion’s armored
car. It amazed Elmo how muddy the human pestilence could get that
car in just one day. Even so, Elmo was in a good mood and looked
forward to starting the day. He took pride in his work, no matter
how tedious the task. As Elmo approached the city garage, he hissed
a human tune he had heard on the radio. Next to the armored car
Elmo noticed a shopping bag. Elmo picked up the bag to look inside.
A bomb, rigged with a mercury switch, killed Elmo instantly.

* * * * *

A surveillance camera in front of City Hall
had recorded General Electric loitering in front of the garage at
about 0330 hours. “Why does he have purple spots on his face?” I
asked, replaying the tape again.

“I can think of no ailment my species has
that would so afflict him,” replied Private Washington.

“Does anyone here recognize this guy?” I
asked. “No offense, but you spiders sometimes all look the same to
me.”

“I don’t get it,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I
thought we wiped out the insurgents. Everyone is a happy camper
now.”

“There is still a lot of hostility across the
river in East Finisterra,” said Sergeant Green. “They think there
is less gold over there and that the Legion screwed them. Could
that spider on the video be one of the Arthropodan marines we let
go and sent across the river?”

“I played the tape back again. “That might be
Team Leader #4, AKA General Electric,” I said. “After his phony
lawsuit went bust, he dropped out of sight. But what happened to
his face?”

“War paint?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.

“Spiders do not paint themselves purple,”
said Private Washington. “It looks like it was splattered on
him.”

“Maybe he robbed a bank, and a purple dye
pack exploded in his face,” suggested Corporal Ceausescu.

“Damn,” said Lieutenant Lopez. He took the
bundle of hundred dollar bills out of his coat pocket and threw it
down on the table. “That explains this money I found in that van we
thought belonged to the Cable Guy. It must have been General
Electric’s van, and he survived the attack.”

“You were holding out on us,” complained
Corporal Tonelli.

“And he tried to get revenge on the drivers
of the armored car,” I said. I turned to Corporal Kool. “Put out an
all points bulletin for General Electric and attach that video. I
am sure someone has seen him. Lieutenant Lopez, take the armored
car to East Finisterra and ask around about General Electric. If
you find any of the spiders from his old unit, arrest them for
questioning.”

“East Finisterra is a rough place to be
poking around,” commented Sergeant Green.

“General Electric isn’t going to wait for us
to find him,” I said. “We need to rout him out before he strikes
again.”

“Are we cops now?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.
“This is bullshit. We need to get a sheriff.”

“I’ll put an ad in the paper,” I said. “You
are right. We need someone else doing police work. But it’s the
Legion’s job to hunt down terrorists. We will do it.”

“Can I be the sheriff?” asked Private
Williams. “I always wanted to be a police officer.”

“No,” I answered.

“Oh come on. Why not?” asked Private
Williams. “It would be a blast.”

“Because you are an idiot,” said Sergeant
Green.

“The military can’t be the police. I think
that law is in the Constitution,” I said. “However, whoever the
sheriff is going to be, he will need deputies. I will appoint you
to be a special liaison deputy for the Legion.”

“What is a liaison?” asked Private
Williams.

“You will be my spy at the Sheriff’s Office,”
I promised.

* * * * *

After crossing the bridge, the armored car
sped through the streets of East Finisterra. Pedestrians scattered.
An occasional bullet would ping off the armor. Lieutenant Lopez,
riding up front, told Private Washington to not slow down for any
reason. Sergeant Green rode up in the turret. As they rounded a
corner, they were met with automatic weapons fire coming from a
walled residence. An explosion left blue smoke obscuring the
roadway. A red smoke flare went off. Private Washington did a hard
right turn and crashed through a gate and wall into a patio area.
Armed spiders scattered. Sergeant Green fired the cannon, blasting
a hole in the house. He followed up with machine gun fire. Glass
from windows flew everywhere. Spiders tossed their assault rifles
down and ran for cover or surrendered.

“Don’t shoot!” yelled a well dressed spider,
arms raised above his head. “I surrender.”

“Up against the wall,” ordered Sergeant
Green. “All of you.”

“What is the meaning of this outrage?” asked
the well dressed spider. “Why did you destroy my home?”

“Shut up!” said Sergeant Green. “I will ask
the questions. Who is in charge of the insurgency? I want names or
else.”

Lieutenant Lopez and the other legionnaires
jumped out of the armored car and began searching spiders and
stacking weapons. “Check the house,” he ordered.

“We are not insurgents,” said the well
dressed spider. “I am the Mayor of East Finisterra. This is my
daughter’s wedding you just destroyed.”

“What?” said Sergeant Green. “I have
beachfront property in Arizona I will sell anyone who believes
that. You were shooting at us. What about all these weapons?”

“Since when is it a crime to fire your
assault rifle harmlessly into the air?” asked the Mayor of East
Finisterra. “We have Constitutional rights. We were just
celebrating. No one shot at you.”

“If this is a wedding, where are the bride
and groom?” asked Sergeant Green.

Two spiders came out from hiding under a
table and waved a white bridal veil as a flag of surrender. “Don’t
kill us. We give up.”

“Where is the wedding cake?” asked Sergeant
Green.

The mayor picked up a large smashed cake from
the ground and brought it to Sergeant Green. “Some of it is still
good. Want some?”

“You think you have answers for everything?”
asked Sergeant Green, as he took a paper plate with cake on it. The
mayor passed out plates of cake to the other legionnaires. “This is
pretty good cake.”

“Do you have any ice cream?” asked Guido. “I
think it’s a little dry.”

“The ice cream got run over,” said the
mayor.

“How about some champagne or beer?” asked
Guido.

“Shut up,” said Sergeant Green. Then he
turned to the mayor. “Sorry about all of this. Is anyone hurt? We
have a medic with us.”

More spiders ventured out of the rubble. No
one was killed. A few were banged up a bit, mostly scratches and
bruises. The bride’s wedding gown was ruined.

“Who is going to pay for what you did to my
home?” asked the mayor. “Why are you here? The Legion never comes
to this side of the river. Bandits run loose everywhere. The one
time you cross the river, you blow up my house?”

“I’ve been here plenty of times,” said
Sergeant Green. “And I always get shot at.”

“Take what we owe you from this,” offered
Lieutenant Lopez, handing the mayor a bundle of hundred dollar
bills from the bank robbery. “There should be more than
enough.”

“Thank you very much,” said the mayor. “You
also owe me for pain and suffering. Do you legionnaires always
carry around this much money?”

“Of course we do,” replied Lieutenant Lopez.
“We are all rich Americans.”

Private Washington passed out photos of
General Electric. “Has anyone seen this terrorist?” he asked. “You
will recognize him from the purple dye on his face and hands. He is
wanted for murder. There is a substantial reward for General
Electric, dead or alive.”

“He hangs out at the Only Tavern with a bunch
of thugs,” replied the mayor. “If you want, I will issue an Order
of Banishment for him and his associates. I was thinking about
doing it anyway.”

“We will go to the Only Tavern and arrest
him,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “I will contact you later if I need
your help.”

“Next time just ring the door bell,” said the
mayor.
Human pestilence have no manners.

* * * * *

The Only Tavern was on the edge of town. The
parking lot was packed with cars and trucks parked everywhere.
Private Washington parked the armored car by the front door in a
handicapped space.

“You can’t park there,” said Private
Williams. “It’s just wrong.”

“Are you afraid of getting a ticket?” asked
Corporal Tonelli. “Who would write us a ticket?”

“Shut up you two,” said Sergeant Green. “I am
tired of your noise.”

The crowd parted as they walked in.
Lieutenant Lopez showed a spider bartender a photo of General
Electric. “Seen him?” he asked. “I heard he comes here a lot.”

“Yes. But not today,” said the bartender.
“Would you like a drink? It’s on the house.”

“How about his friends?” asked Lieutenant
Lopez.

“They’re at the corner table playing poker,”
answered the bartender.

Lieutenant Lopez approached the table of
spiders playing poker. “Where is your team leader?” he asked. “I
have a warrant for his arrest.”

“He is not our team leader anymore,” said a
large spider, throwing down his cards and taking a drink. “#4 got
half of us killed, and the rest of us marooned on this rock. Now he
is off somewhere having issues.”

“Aren’t you all mining for gold?” asked
Lieutenant Lopez.

“There is some gold on this side of the
river, but not enough to make it worth my while to pan for it
during the winter,” said the large spider.

“You are all under arrest for questioning,
pending our investigation,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “Stand up, you
are coming with us.”

The music stopped. The large spider stood up
and loomed over Lieutenant Lopez. Private Williams rushed forward
as the spider picked Lieutenant Lopez up and threw him through a
plate glass window into the street. The crowd pressed in on the
legionnaires. Private Williams struck a spider in the face with the
butt of his rifle. Corporal Ceausescu fired several rounds into the
air and ordered the crowd to back off. Someone upstairs yelled in
pain. Guido’s dragon bit a spider drunk that stepped on its tail.
Several bottles were thrown. The crowd, half spider and half human,
used that as a provocation to start a massive bar fight.

Lieutenant Lopez lay stunned on the ground
beside the armored car. He looked up and saw a spider attempting to
hook the armored car up to a tow truck.

“What do you think you are doing?” asked
Lieutenant Lopez, still lying on the ground. “Get away from our
vehicle.”

“You car is being impounded for being in a
handicapped zone,” replied the wrecker driver. “Sorry. Do not
interfere with the impound. You can pick it up at the city impound
yard.”

Lieutenant Lopez drew his pistol and fired
several shots at the wrecker driver. The driver fired several shots
back before fleeing in his tow truck. Several cables snapped and
flew about wildly as the armored car’s bumper held. Lieutenant
Lopez climbed up in the turret and fired the cannon at the fleeing
tow truck. The shell missed, but hit East Finisterra’s only
7-Eleven store. A human wearing a turban on his head came running
out of the store, shaking his fist and swearing.

Corporal Kool was thrown out the same window
that Lieutenant Lopez was tossed out. He landed on the hood of the
armored car. Lieutenant Lopez turned the turret toward the window
of the Only Tavern.

“Don’t do it!” yelled Corporal Kool, looking
up at the cannon muzzle. “We still have legionnaires inside.”

Lieutenant Lopez elevated the cannon and blew
up the second floor. Debris rained down on the first floor, ending
the bar fight inside. Dusty legionnaires and tavern patrons
staggered outside. Legionnaires piled back into the armored car.
Private Washington burned rubber, knocking over the handicapped
sign and crunching several parked vehicles as they left the tavern
parking lot.

“There is some fool in a turban chasing us,”
advised Sergeant Green, as they passed the 7-Eleven. “What’s his
problem?”

“He is upset about his store,” said
Lieutenant Lopez.

“He’s catching up with us,” said Guido.

“Shoot him,” suggested Lieutenant Lopez.

“I’m not shooting anyone until I find out for
sure what he wants,” said Sergeant Green. “It’s not like it’s our
fault his store blew up.”

“But it is our fault,” said Lieutenant Lopez
as the armored car slowed down. The store owner caught up with
them, rapping on the window next to Lieutenant Lopez. “It was our
cannon shell that accidentally hit his store.”

“You blew up my store just because I am
Hindu,” yelled the store owner. “What is your name?”

“Private Delacruz,” answered Lieutenant
Lopez, as he tossed a grenade out the window and ordered Private
Washington to speed up. The grenade rolled harmlessly under a
parked car and exploded. Ralph Singh was last seen shaking his fist
as they sped away.

* * * * *

I could see and hear machine gun fire and
explosions from across the river, and was getting phone reports of
a fierce battle raging. I called Lieutenant Lopez on the radio
about it. Lopez said they had encountered a few insurgents, but
that only he and Corporal Kool had been slightly injured. He said
the Mayor of East Finisterra and local authorities had been
helpful. They were proceeding down to the river to check some
mining shacks where General Electric was reported to live. I
advised Lieutenant Lopez I would be sending three helicopter
gunships for immediate help and I would be personally leading a
column of four tanks across the bridge shortly. General Kalipetsis
promised fighter bombers if needed.