America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 2: Reenlistment (10 page)

Water poured into the shuttle. #4 pulled
marines out of the emergency hatch. They salvaged as much equipment
as possible, but their situation was a mess. #4 rallied his
marines. They would walk to Finisterra and take what they needed to
survive from the human pestilence. Wet and cold, #4 shivered until
his exoskeleton rattled to its core. “Why would anyone want to
fight for a planet this cold?”

* * * * *

“Listen up,” I said. “I got a radio report
that insurgents attacked the engineer convoy. The engineers will
not be coming up the highway. A decision was made to barge
everything up the river. Probably the barges have to be built
first.”

“We are almost out of supplies,” advised
Sergeant Green.

“No problem,” I said. “Just make a list and
radio in what you want airlifted.”

“What happens if the insurgents attack here?”
asked Corporal Tonelli.

We are too far away,” said Lieutenant Lopez.
“Insurgents can’t get this far without air transport.”

“We will post guards. How does your lizard
like the snow?” I asked Tonelli. “You have first watch.”

“Spot gets irritable when I take him outside
to do his business,” said Guido. “He tried to bite me.”

“Does anyone here know how to build a log
cabin?” I asked. No one answered. “It might be a while before the
engineers get here.”

“This tent is nice and toasty as long as the
portable heater lasts,” said Corporal Ceausescu.

“I know, but a nasty wind could easily rip it
apart,” I said. “Then we all would be living in the armored
car.”

* * * * *

Guido grabbed a portable heater and dragged
his dragon off to the armored car. This was the second time
Czerinski had sent him into the darkness to do guard duty, groused
Guido. Czerinski held a grudge forever. Guido cleared snow off the
windows so he could see out. By morning the armored car would
probably look like a giant igloo. Settling inside, Guido took off
his boots and kicked back in a chair with his feet resting on top
of the heater.

At about midnight Spot began a long guttural
growl. “Great. That’s probably Lieutenant Lopez or Sergeant Green
sneaking up on me to see if I am sleeping. If it’s Czerinski, we
are going to have words.” Guido quickly put on his boots and looked
out the windows. He could see nothing. Guido wiped the moisture off
the window and peered out again. Still nothing. He could see all
the way to the tree line, but there was no sign of Lieutenant Lopez
or Sergeant Green. Guido put on the night vision goggles he’d been
issued. This time the batteries had juice in them and the goggles
worked. At first the reflection off the snow made it too bright.
But after adjustments, Guido could see movement at the tree line.
It was spiders. Lots of spiders! Guido climbed up into the turret
and fired the machine gun. When the spiders dispersed and ducked
for cover, Guido fired the cannon.

* * * * *

At the sound of gunfire, we all crawled out
the sides of our tent and into the snow drifts. I ran for cover
beside a fallen log. I could see several spiders behind another log
firing at the armored car and preparing to fire and anti-tank
missile. I threw a grenade. The grenade hit the front of the log
and bounced harmlessly before exploding. I threw another grenade
that hit on top of the log and bounced over and past the spiders
before exploding. The spiders were now shooting at me. I threw a
third grenade with more elevation. It dropped behind the log
perfectly.

* * * * *

Team Leader #4 could see the human officer
tossing grenades, but could do nothing about it. The grenades came
in quick succession. When the third grenade landed among them, #4
did not hesitate. He ripped off his helmet and threw himself on the
grenade. #4 closed his eyes and embraced death.

But nothing happened. There was no explosion.
He was still alive. #4 carefully removed the helmet from the
grenade. After surviving what appeared to be a dud, it would not do
to accidently set the grenade off by jarring it. His fellow marines
had stopped shooting and just stared.

The grenade appeared very shiny. How odd. How
beautiful. #4 picked it up for a closer look. The object was a fist
sized gold nugget. #4 glanced over the log at the human officer. He
was about to throw another grenade.

“Stop!” called out #4. “Who threw that last
grenade? Who threw the dud?”

“I did,” I yelled back. “What’s it to
you?”

“How about throwing another one just like
it,” said #4.

“Are you crazy?” I asked, as I tossed another
grenade. This one exploded short of the log. My shoulder was
getting sore. It felt like I tore something.

“Stop throwing grenades at me,” said #4. “I
do not want to fight any more.”

“You surrender?” I asked.

“No, of course not,” said #4. “Why would I
surrender? We have you outnumbered.”

“But we have a cannon and machine gun mounted
on an armored car,” I said. “You can’t fight off an armored car if
we charge you.”

“We have armor-piercing rockets,” said #4.
“No matter. I do not want to fight any more.”

“Why?” I asked. “We are at war. We have to
fight. It’s against the rules not to fight.”

“The war ended a long time ago. Besides, I
had an epiphany,” said #4. “I look at things differently now.”

I rapped on the translation device inside my
helmet. I didn’t think my translator could understand a word like
‘epiphany.’ I am not sure I even understood its meaning. “You will
have to explain yourself better than that!” I demanded.

“I told you. I quit,” said #4. “All I want to
do is float down the river back to civilization.”

“And rejoin the insurgency?” I asked. “No!
You made your choice to join the insurgency and you can die with
it.”

#4 stood up and walked toward me. “I am not a
member of the insurgency. I am Team Leader #4 of the Arthropodan
Special Forces marines. I wish to immigrate to New Colorado and
become a United States Galactic Federation citizen.”

I left the cover of my log and met #4
halfway. Clearly this spider was wearing an Arthropodan marine
uniform. “You are a long way from home,” I said. “What was your
mission?”

“Pure adventurism,” said #4. “But it is over.
Let us pass, and I promise not to take up arms against the Legion
ever again.”

Lieutenant Lopez walked up to us. “What is
the catch, mocoso? What are you getting out of this? What aren’t
you telling us? Don’t be telling me any more lies about you just
wanting to quit. I will shoot you now if you lie again.”

#4 held out the large gold nugget. “I am sure
there are more of these here at Finisterra,” said #4. “Gold
glitters everywhere here. I want to stay and look for more.”

Lieutenant Lopez reached for the gold nugget,
but #4 pulled back and put the nugget in a pouch. “Where did you
get that?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.

“Your captain threw it at me moments ago,
thinking it was a grenade,” said #4.

Lieutenant Lopez gave me a shove. “You held
back on me? Where did you find gold? And when were you planning to
tell me about it?”

“I found it here,” I said. “I was going to
tell you about it as soon as my application to purchase Finisterra
was approved. You are still my partner.”

“Partners don’t hold back like that,” said
Lieutenant Lopez.

“The best way to keep a secret is to not tell
anyone,” I said. “I was going to tell you after I obtained the deed
to Finisterra.”

“So what is it going to be?” asked #4. “When
the secret gets out, there is going to be a gold rush up here. I
say we stake our claims now while we can. My war with you is over.”
#4 held his claw out to shake.

“Agreed,” I said, shaking claw. “You may
pass. Build a boat and stake any claim you want across the river.
Finisterra is ours.”

* * * * *

Team Leader #4 and his unit built rafts and
crossed the river. They buried five dead. All the Special Forces
soldiers already had civilian clothes in their backpacks. They shed
their uniforms and began panning for gold. Almost immediately gold
was found on their side of the river. #4 left ten soldiers at camp
and took four others on a raft down the New Mississippi River.
After several days they reached the large city of New Memphis.

#4 chipped off a little bit of the nugget and
converted it to cash. They found lodging at a hotel, bought
supplies, and secured boat passage for the return trip north. As
they walked through the business district, #4 saw a sign: Anthony
Depoli, Attorney at Law. He shrugged, walked inside, and faced real
danger. Lawyers can be pretty scary.

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CHAPTER 9

“This is Phil Coen, World News Tonight, with
breaking news from the Northern Territory of New Colorado,”
announced Coen, as he held a microphone up to a spider civilian.
“Sir, tell our viewers your name.”

“My name is General Electric,” replied Team
Leader #4, trying to look casual in his civilian clothes. “I just
arrived in New Memphis.”

“That is an interesting name,” said Coen. “Is
General Electric your legal name?”

“My lawyer says yes. I saw the name on a
light bulb, and took a liking to it,” said G.E. “What? You don’t
like my name?”

“Mr. Electric, I love your name,” said Coen.
“Your attorney says you have a story to tell us from the North.
Tell us of your discovery.”

“I found gold in Finisterra. I tried to stake
a claim, but was attacked by the Legion. Many of my crew were
killed. Their bodies still lie in the snow. I was lucky to get out
alive by floating down the river on a log raft.”

“That is a very disturbing allegation. I know
the Legion just fought a very savage battle in the North with
insurgents. What were you doing up there?”

“I told you. I was prospecting for gold. But
the Legion shoots spiders on sight. To them we are all
insurgents.”

“Are you calling this a case of mistaken
identity?” asked Coen, doubtfully. “It is unlikely the Legion
shoots for no reason.”

“It is a case of extermination everywhere in
the North,” said G.E. “Did the Legion take prisoners at the North
Highway Battle? I don’t think so. I am seeing a pattern.”

“I was at the North Highway Battle,” advised
Coen. “It was a vicious battle fought under harsh conditions. Many
lives were lost on both sides.”

“Whatever. I am just a simple miner trying to
make a living like so many others,” said G.E. “The Legion jumped my
mining claim when I discovered gold at Finisterra.”

“Do you have proof?” asked Coen. “For all I
know you are an insurgent or an enemy sympathizer. Why were up
there in a combat zone?”

“I told you. I was prospecting,” insisted
G.E. “How can I prove anything? Finisterra is a long way from the
site of the North Highway Battle. You can go to Finisterra. The
Legion is still there. So is my dead crew.”

“The Legion says they are building a bridge
at Finisterra so that the North can be opened up for development,”
said Coen. “Their presence is necessary to protect engineers from
insurgents.”

“Insurgents?” asked G.E. “There are no more
insurgents left in the North. There are no more spiders left at
all. The Legion just stole my claim because I discovered gold.”

“That is the most outlandish claim I have
ever heard,” scoffed Coen. “I have had about enough of this garbage
from you. There has never been any gold found in the North. I
apologize to viewers for allowing this insult of our heroic
legionnaires to broadcast as long as it did.”

“No gold in the North? What do you think this
is?” asked G.E., holding out the large gold nugget. The TV camera
zoomed in on the nugget. It glittered in the sunlight. “I got this
gold in Finisterra. If you don’t believe me, my attorney has a few
words to say.”

A man dressed in an expensive suit stepped
forward. “I am Anthony Depoli, Attorney at Law. I represent Mr.
Electric. I went to the County Clerk to file a mining claim on
behalf of my client. What I found was that Captain Joey R.
Czerinski of the United States Galactic Foreign Legion had already
filed a gold mining claim for Finisterra. Captain Czerinski had
also applied to purchase the entire Finisterra riverbank. This is
the same Captain Czerinski that is known to the spider community as
the Butcher of New Colorado. I have filed and obtained a
court-ordered temporary injunction blocking this sale to Captain
Czerinski pending litigation. I have filed our own mining claim for
Finisterra. I also intend to pursue a lawsuit in Federal Court for
unspecified damages against the Legion and Captain Czerinski,
alleging wrongful death, assault, abuse of authority under the
color of the law, claim jumping, and banditry.”

* * * * *

The old prospector spider pulled his donkey
Shaky Jake through the snow at the North Highway battlefield. He
looted the bodies of over two hundred insurgents. It was a good
day. Many of the insurgents carried their life savings on them.
There was lots of jewelry, too. The prospector also salvaged boots
and personal clothing. There were not as many heavy coats and hats
as he expected.
City slickers have no common sense,
he
thought.

The prospector hauled his booty to a large
tent he had set up by the highway. He watched all the cars pass by.
This much traffic during the middle of winter was crazy.
Fools.
Don’t they know another storm would kill many of them?
The
prospector cooked some venison steaks. A carload of human
pestilence stopped and talked of a gold rush in Finisterra. He sold
them steaks at forty dollars a piece. Another carload stopped. The
prospector upped the price to fifty dollars, and they bought them
all. When the human pestilence left, the prospector put up a sign:
Welcome to BATTLE CREEK CAFÉ, STORE, & HOTEL.