America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 2: Reenlistment (13 page)

* * * * *

As they drove the armored car down Main
Street toward the river, they passed a wrecking yard. The tow truck
driver was just putting his tow truck back into his garage.
Surprised to see the legionnaires again, he fired a clip from his
assault rifle and then ran inside, closing the door. Sergeant Green
fired the machine gun back, and then one round from the cannon for
good measure. Observing the tracers from above, three Legion
helicopter gunships swooped down and fired rockets into the
wrecking yard. The tow truck driver dropped into his spider hole
deep underground. His business was flattened. Smoke from old tires
stacked everywhere billowed over East Finisterra.

Observing the escalation of fighting, I
called General Kalipetsis requesting the jet fighter bombers.

“Did you see that?” asked Private Williams.
“The whole place went up in smoke. What kind of round did you have
in that cannon?”

“It must have been secondary explosions from
munitions inside,” said Lieutenant Lopez as they pulled into the
riverfront area. “We are going to kick in a few doors down here and
see if anyone has seen General Electric.”

* * * * *

General Electric sat on his couch, watching
cable TV. Earlier he had been out on his back porch deck fishing in
the river. Now, all he wanted to do was drink beer and eat tortilla
chips. A human football game was on the sports channel. Watching
the game seemed to displace all of G.E.’s worries. The newspaper
said spiders were forming football teams, too. He’d pay to see
that. G.E. could hear distant explosions, but dismissed them as
nothing more than an ongoing mining operation down the street.

In front of G.E. on his coffee table was an
assortment of spray paints, solvents, dyes, and paint mixtures. The
purple dye might eventually wear off, but G.E. needed an immediate
disguise. G.E. stirred his latest mixture of colors. He had not
quite got what he was looking for. He threw in some speckles. The
result was speckled June bug green. G.E. liked it. The shiny new
color was a far cry from his current rusty brown. Once applied, it
was magnificent. You could tell the green was artificial, but a lot
of spiders were painting themselves these days. The trend was
becoming hip. The main thing G.E. noticed as he applied paint to
his exoskeleton was that the purple dye was gone.

G.E. turned the TV channel to the news. A
news crew was up in a helicopter filming the riverfront area of
East Finisterra. An armored car and three Legion tanks had a shanty
house surrounded and were about to annihilate some poor slob
inside. The reporter was excited that the whole event would be
broadcast live. They were doing a countdown. On a hunch, G.E.
dragged himself to his feet and staggered over to the window. A
Legion tank was lowering the elevation on its cannon, aimed
directly at G.E.
Oh shit,
he thought.
I’m the poor slob
they’re going to annihilate.
G.E. jumped into his spider hole
just as his hideout was blown apart by cannon and rocket fire. Deep
below the ground, G.E. could hear the rumble of falling rock as the
entrance to his tunnel collapsed. G.E. followed his tunnel to where
it connected to a mining shaft, and escaped.

* * * * *

Ralph Gobind Singh was not a man to waste
time. He had already rented a Caterpillar tractor and was digging a
new and improved foundation for his damaged 7-Eleven store. Singh
had been planning to expand the store anyway, but had been
procrastinating. Now that the Legion had blasted a hole in the
wall, there was no time like now to get the job done. He wasn’t
even mad at the Legion anymore. Singh looked to the future, not the
past. There was much work to be done. Singh had his whole extended
family clearing debris. He dug into the ground all night. The
blue-black clay often clogged the treads of his Caterpillar. His
wife finally gave up and went to bed. Singh did not want to wait
for the next rain to turn his efforts into a big mud hole. He would
call for the cement tomorrow and finish the job. As the dawn sun
rose, Singh paused to admire the majesty of the New Colorado
sunrise. He had to shield his eyes.

But something was wrong. Singh had to shield
his eyes from two directions. The glare of the sun reflected from
inside the hole he had just dug. Singh got off his tractor for a
closer look at something metallic. It was a huge vein of gold.
Geologists and miners at the Only Tavern all agreed there had to be
a mother load somewhere in Finisterra, but extensive digging had
failed to locate it. Now, Singh had found the mother load of all
mother loads, and would soon be one of the wealthiest men on New
Colorado. Not only had he discovered the largest gold strike on New
Colorado, but the black-blue clay that was gumming up the treads of
his Caterpillar turned out to be silver.

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CHAPTER 11

With the discovery of more gold in Finisterra
came another gold rush. The Singh Mining Corporation quickly became
the area’s largest employer. Unfortunately, sensationalized media
coverage of the recent battle with insurgents in East Finisterra
attracted a flood of insurgents hoping to join their brothers in
arms. The insurgency had not been doing well in other parts of the
planet. But now the insurgency had a new hero: General Electric.
And the media said the elusive G.E. was making his last stand in
Finisterra. In response, the Legion put up roadblocks along the
North Highway and patrol boats on the New Mississippi River. In
Finisterra, the Legion’s main checkpoint was at the Finisterra
Bridge.

Corporal Tonelli put little pieces of bread
on top of the sand bags to feed the squirrels. It helped pass the
time. Nothing was more boring to Tonelli than guard duty. Squirrels
would dart up to their machine gun position, snatch a bread crumb,
and run back to the bushes at the base of the bridge.

“Stop feeding those squirrels,” said Sergeant
Green. “Don’t you know they carry diseases?”

“It is rats that carry diseases,” replied
Guido. “Squirrels are just cute and fuzzy.”

“A squirrel is nothing more than a rat with
better PR” said Sergeant Green. “I don’t want them up here with
us.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the big
mean squirrel,” said Guido as he put another piece of bread just
inside the sandbag wall. The squirrel was leery, but ventured forth
because of hunger and greed. Just as the squirrel snatched the
bread, Tonelli’s dragon Spot snatched the squirrel. The rat with
better PR was gone in one bite.

Private Williams walked up to the next car in
line. It was his turn to do a check. Private Williams told the
driver to step out of the car and to open the trunk. The driver and
a passenger were patted down. Private Williams searched luggage in
the trunk. In one suitcase he found about eighty cell phones.

“What is this?” asked Private Williams. “Are
you a salesman for Motorola?”

“No. I have many friends and relatives in
Finisterra,” said the spider driver. “I buy these cell phones cheap
at the spaceport. They make perfect gifts out here on the Frontier.
Would you like one? Pick one out.”

“Thank you,” said Private Williams, as he
selected a bright red phone. He passed the car through the
checkpoint and walked back to the bunker. “Look what that spider
gave me.”

“Why did he do that?” asked Sergeant
Green.

“He had about eighty phones in his suitcase,”
said Private Williams. “I guess he was just being friendly and had
an extra.”

“Cell phones are a cheap method used by the
insurgency to explode homemade bombs,” said Sergeant Green, as he
took Private Williams’ new phone.
Idiot,
he thought.
Sergeant Green then radioed legionnaires on the other side of the
bridge to stop and detain the last car through.

Corporal Ceausescu motioned with her assault
rifle for the car to stop. She ordered both occupants to get out of
the car with their claws up. The driver stepped on the gas and
tried to run the roadblock. Corporal Ceausescu jumped out of the
way as the car nearly struck her. Corporal Kool fired his machine
gun at the car, killing both insurgents.

* * * * *

General Electric walked into the Only Tavern.
It was doing a brisk business despite construction contractors
hammering out repairs. Teamsters construction workers added to the
business because they ordered drinks during their many union
breaks. They were putting in a new ceiling and rebuilding the
second floor hotel. G.E. sat at the bar and ordered a drink.

A drunk spider on the stool next to him
grabbed G.E. by the shoulder. “We don’t like Greens in here,” said
the drunk. “Get out.”

G.E. pulled a jagged military-issue combat
knife and held it to the drunk’s throat. “Do I really look like
someone you want to piss off?” he asked.

“No, sir. You do not,” said the drunk. “I am
so sorry.”

“If I don’t look like someone you would want
to piss off, then why are you trying so hard to do it?” asked G.E.
A droplet of blood trickled from the drunk’s neck. “Are you brain
damaged or just stupid?”

“I am just stupid, sir,” said the drunk.
“Please don’t kill me. I’ve had too much to drink. Can I buy you a
drink?”

“I had better never see you in this tavern
again,” said G.E. “If I do, I will cut off your head and nail it
above the bar next to that deer.”

“You will never see me again,” said the
drunk, as he ran for the door. The scene attracted attention.

“Who are you?” asked another spider sitting
with a group of spiders at a nearby table. “Care to join us?”

“That depends,” said G.E. “Are you
buying?”

“Anything you want,” said the spider, waving
at the bartender for more whiskey and vodka. “Don’t ever bring that
knife to a gunfight.”

“I was just playing with that fool,” said
G.E. “I have several guns on me.”

“You did not answer my question, so I’ll ask
it again,” said the spider. “Who are you?”

“None of your business, even if you are
buying the drinks,” said G.E. “You are the newcomer in town, so it
is I who should be asking who you are. Just another fortune hunter
looking for gold? Good luck.”

“I will tell you who you are not,” said the
spider. “You are not a Green. No Green shopkeeper ever handled a
combat knife that way.”

“Some of the best soldiers I have ever served
with were Greens,” said G.E. “You know nothing.”

“You were a soldier?” asked the spider.
“Special Forces?”

“You ask too many questions,” said G.E.,
picking up his drink to leave. “Idiots everywhere.”

“I am a leader in the insurgency,” said the
spider, following G.E. “We need ex-soldiers like you. Would you
join us?”

“Why would I join the bumblers of the
insurgency?” said G.E. “I am General Electric. I destroyed the
Legion at the North Highway Battle, and I will destroy them here at
a time of my own choosing.”

“You are the one we have been looking for!”
exclaimed the spider. “Finisterra is the only place on the planet
effectively resisting the human pestilence. You are the only leader
who has been successful. Hundreds of us are coming here to rally
around your leadership. Please lead us.”

“You have heard of me?” asked G.E.

“You were featured on America’s Most Wanted,”
said the spider. “Your picture is posted in every post office on
New Colorado. There is a million-dollar reward for you, dead or
alive.”

“I have a shuttle full of weapons and
explosives hidden in the forest,” said G.E. “I will help you rid
New Colorado of the human pestilence.”

“We welcome you, brother,” said the spider,
grasping G.E. in a firm embrace. The other spiders at the table got
up and did the same. “There is so much injustice to be righted.
Arthropoda has been cheated out of the vast riches of the North.
Have you noticed that the largest mine in Finisterra is already
owned by a human? I am talking about Ralph Gobind Singh and the
Singh Mining Corporation. Our first act of defiance will be to make
an example of Mr. Singh.”

“The Emperor gave this planet away,”
complained G.E., sitting back down at the table. “Then he orders me
here to destabilize it by arming the insurgency. Then, he abandons
me. To hell with Arthropoda. To hell with the Emperor. We need our
own independent country here in the North. The human pestilence may
be able to kill us, but they cannot kill an idea. They cannot kill
the desire for independence.”

“I like that,” said the spider. “I could be
the Emperor of the North.”

“Whatever,” said G.E. “You have to drive the
human pestilence out first. Or at least you have to drive the
Legion out. Did you know that spiders have joined the humans’
Foreign Legion?”

“Traitors,” said the Emperor of the North.
“We need to make an example of them, too.”

“The problem is that spiders are not united,”
said G.E. “They are too busy digging for gold and pursuing the
American Dream. They have been brainwashed by satellite TV and
seduced by dollars. We need to do something that will galvanize
support for the insurgency.”

“That is easy,” said the Emperor of the
North. “All we have to do is set off a few bombs. The Legion always
overreacts to that sort of thing. They will upset every spider in
Finisterra with their crude tactics.”

“What do you want to blow up first?” asked
G.E. “Can we get a nuke?”

“Everyone wants a nuke,” said the Emperor of
the North. “Using nukes would be bad for public opinion. Besides,
we don’t want to destroy Finisterra. We want to take it for our
own.”

“For now we don’t need nukes,” agreed G.E.
“But later we may need them. It is always good to have that option
available to us.”

“I will consider that,” said the Emperor of
the North. “First we blow up City Hall, the Finisterra Bridge, and
the home of Ralph Gobind Singh. If we hit all three on the same
day, the Legion will go crazy.”