America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 20: Time Machine (7 page)

“What?”

“Don’t lie about being a criminal. Perjury on a Legion enlistment form is a capital offense. How many times have you been arrested on Old Earth?”

“I was persecuted many times by the Romans,” explained Jesus.
“They’re real pricks.”

“Now we
’re getting somewhere,” replied the ATM, scanning Old Earth Italian arrest archives. “Are you Mafia connected?”

“No.”

“You must be connected to have all trace of your nefarious activities expunged. Have you ever been to American occupied Sicily?”

“No.”

“Ever pay income taxes?”

“No.”

“So, you are a tax cheat. I thought so.”

“Wa
lmart owes me money for commercials. I promise to pay my fair share when I get paid. What’s the going tax rate these days?”

“Fifty percent if you
’re rich, or a known tax cheat like yourself.”

“And you call me Mafia?
Caesar had nothing on you.”

“You worked for the Caesar Cartel?”

“No.”

“Independent contractor?”

“I like that term.”

“Hit man, eh?
The Legion can make good use of your kind. Don’t tell anyone, because it’s a secret, but there’s a war coming soon to a planet near you. Any other employment experience?”

“I used to be a fisherman.”

“Very convenient. Your hits are now swimming with the fishes. Anything else?”

“I talk to God.”

“Often?”

“Five times a day.”

“You’re not a Muslim, are you?”

“No, I
’m a Jew, but I founded Christianity.”

“I see.
Congratulations, you qualify for the infantry, a skill-set for which the Foreign Legion has a never-ending need. I am issuing you Legion ID, along with your enlistment contract and Social Security card.”

“I just enlisted?”

“Did I mention you get free medical? Don’t forget to read the fine print on the back. Take the money, it’s as good as cash. Make something of yourself, Private Jesus H. Christ. I see fun, travel, and adventure in your future. Be proud, be brave, be a legionnaire.”

* * * * *

Jesus in the Legion? That’s not going to end well
, I worried.
People escape their past by joining the Legion. It’s the law. Hell, I did it. But how can Jesus blend in, what with rumormongers, investigative reporters, and conspiracy theorists prowling everywhere? There’s a definite lack of trust in the galaxy these days.

I assigned Private Christ border
-crossing duty, searching trucks for bombs and drugs. Jesus would hide in plain sight. I hoped Corporal Tonelli, in between taking calls for his bookie business, could mentor Jesus on how to be a legionnaire.

Corporal Tonelli
’s guard monitor dragon Spot rushed to greet Jesus, sniffing with its darting forked tongue. Spot’s tail wagged as he nuzzled Jesus’ leg.

“Keep your serp
ent leashed,” snapped Jesus, recoiling from the big lizard. “I’ll have none of your stupid beast.”

“Be glad Spot likes you,” replied Corporal Tonelli.
“Usually he just bites off a leg.”

“Are you Roman?” asked Private Christ, leery of Tonelli and all people Italian.
“You have a Latin nose.”

“I
’m Italian-American from the Bronx,” answered Tonelli. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.
Some of my best friends are you people from Rome.”

“Whatever.
I heard you are well-connected. Are you Cartel?”

“The ATM promised past is past.
Legionnaires live in the present.”

“I like your attitude,” agreed Tonelli, checking his communications pad.
“Who do you like for the Mariners-Yankees game?”

“God says New York will sweep the Series.”

“The East Coast fix is in for the Series?” asked Tonelli, doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.
Put me down for fifty thousand and odds on New York to sweep. This ain’t my first camel race, by a long shot.”

Chapter 1
0

Arthropodan Intelligentsia State Police commandos burst into the spider commander’s office, roughly placing him in restraints. His XO was accosted too.

“You are both charged with treason, conspiring with the enemy, and violating the Time Travel Treaty for personal gain,” accused an Intelligentsia officer.
“Expect your certain executions to be slow and painful.”

“It was all his idea!” pleaded the XO.
“That greedy bastard! Can we plea bargain?”

“This is preposterous,” complained the spider commander, rattling his chains.
“You will pay for your arrogance!”

“Warrants of arrest signed by the
governor document conspiring with the human pestilence to attempt changes in the historical time line. Do you deny betting heavily on the Yankees to sweep, despite the odds?”

“Idiot!
Everyone is betting on the Yankees.”

“Also, you were derelict in your responsibilities by allowing Czerinski and his human pestilence bandits to run amuck through time, looting at will, stampeding citizens, and raping livestock.
You are a disgrace!”

“When I am cleared of these outrageous charges, there will be a reckoning.”

“Take the traitors away,” ordered the Intelligentsia officer dismissively. “After a fair trial and torture, shoot them at dawn.”

* * * * *

“Duck!” shouted the voice of God from Heaven above.

“What?” asked Jesus, shielding
his eyes from the bright beam of Heavenly light as he scanned the horizon for foul feathery quackers. “Why?”

“I am not accustomed to repeating my word,” boomed God, clouds darkening on a clear day, lightning and thunder menacing.
“Are you deaf? That’s your problem, Son. You never listen. Get your ass to cover, pronto!”

“You can
’t order me around anymore,” complained Jesus, defiantly shaking his fist to Heaven. “I’m thirty-five and in the Legion now. So blow it out your ass!”

“Learn the hard way,” replied God, sighing
“The exuberance of youth. Remember what happened the last time you defied me? You got crucified!”

Corporal Tonelli, listening intently to their heated exchange, crossed himself, then yanked Jesus down a spider hole bunker hidden under the guard shack.
“What the hell was that?” he asked, sealing the hatch. “You really do talk to God?”

“Just
Dad.”

Led by armored vehicles, Intelligentsia commandos attacked across the border in a classic pincer movement, converging on the time machine bunker complex. Artillery and Airwing bombers hit Legion positions on a broad front as commandos attacked the bunkers. Tonelli and Christ huddled safely down their spider hole, listening to Arthropodan tanks rumble past overhead.

“What does God know about baseball?” Tonelli whispered.

“You
’re right. What’s there to know? Ninety-nine percent of baseball is half mental. Change my bet to the Seattle Mariners, to sweep.”

* * * * *

I fled deep underground to the time machine bunker. The spider commander did not answer his hotline phone, set up for local commanders and just this sort of misunderstanding. That bastard! Explosions and gunfire got louder as spider troops entered the bunkers. Satchel charges blew open the vault doors housing the time machine. I fired full automatic into the smoke and dust.

“Czerinski!” shouted a spider Intelligentsia officer.
“I know you’re in there. Surrender immediately, or die!”

“Nuts!”

“This is not a negotiation! No cashews or food for you!”

“Are you trying to start a war?”

“Okay, fine! I’ll order pizza if you surrender without damaging the time machine, but we’re out of nuts.”

“And beer?
I want Outlaw Beer, it tastes great but is less filling.”

“No alcohol.
It just makes you human pestilence more aggressive.”

“I want to talk to your commander,” I demanded, stalling for time and an extra topping of cheese.
“We had a treaty!”

“A treaty you violate every day!
Do you deny your treachery? No matter if you do. We intercepted incriminating video of you human pestilence attempting to change the time lines. It was even on Cable TV News.”

“Don
’t believe everything you see on Cable TV,” I answered, slumping.
More bad press.
“Friends don’t let friends watch cable!”

A grenade was tossed into the vault, forcing legionnaires back.
Spiders seized the control panel, activating the time machine. That bastard lied about the pizza. A dozen spider commandos carrying suspicious backpacks lunged through the time portal to time lines unknown. Smoke from small fires drove me back to a corner. On my knees, I looked up and prayed to God. “Yo God! You owe me big-time for saving your boy, Jesus. I’m calling in my marker. How about some divine intervention to save my ass?”

Trumpet
s sounded and a bright light shined down on me as the ceiling and sky above parted. The illuminated all-powerful hand of God reached through the clouds, swatting scurrying spiders like a whack-a-mole video game. Tanks and armored cars were flicked back across the border like toys.

“
Hasta la vista
, buggies!” boomed the omniscient voice of God.

“We
’re even now, Czerinski!” He said. “Don’t be expecting any more miracles from me. You’re not getting into Heaven, either. I’ll see you in Hell, first!”

“Thank you, Lord,” I replied contritely.
“What about the spider commandos that escaped through the time machine? The mischief they may cause does not bode well for humanity, or God’s Plan.”

“Like I give a shit about humanity, or the future!
The future will come soon enough. I have no plan. It’s Sunday. You humans constantly nag me on my only day off. It’s pissing me off. I cannot micromanage your trivial affairs. Can you hear me now?”

“Yes, Lord.
But, we need your help.”

“I
’ll see what I can do,” relented God, softening his tone and dialing back the thunder. “Those spiders are a real pain in the ass, eh? Creating sentient life off-planet as stupid as humans is my joke on humanity. Sometimes I think I should nuke the whole lot of you, and start over with unicorns and fairies.”

“Unicorns are way overrated,” I argued.
“They’re high-maintenance hay-burners, just like horses and goats. And fairies? Don’t get me started about those pixie perverts.”

“Fine, but I
’m warning you! Don’t wake me again this early on the Lord’s Day. Tell that blasphemous Son of Mine to get a job!”

“Jesus has a job in the Legion.
He’s doing good.”

“Really?”

“He’s one of our better recruits. He might even be officer material.”

“Tell my boy I love him, but he has to make it on his own.
Tough love, you know. I can’t always be bailing him out of tough spots.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“What do you know about that Ceausescu girl he’s been hanging out with? She seems kind of slutty.”

“She is.”

“That’s my boy!” beamed God, proudly. “I was beginning to worry about the wimpy crowd he was hanging with. Bunch of freeloaders, if you ask me. It’s such a relief to know he’s not ... you know.”

“The Legion has a don
’t ask, don’t tell policy.”

“Yes, quite right.
Very modern and progressive of you.”

“Yes, Lord.

“That Ceausescu is a real looker, though. Of course, any girl can be glamorous. All they have to do is stand still and look stupid.”

“Elena is a highly decorated combat medic,” I offered.
“Your son has chosen well.”

“Is she a natural blond
?”

“You
’re God. Don’t you know all?”

“No.
I invented God’s Plan. That doesn’t mean I can be everywhere, do everything, and see all. I keep telling you I don’t have time to micromanage. I delegate, just like you.”

“Yes, Lord.”

* * * * *

Tonelli and Christ emerged from their bunker to the sound of Legion tanks and a rebel yell from Sergeant Williams.
The lead tank pulled aside the burning guard shack. Sergeant Williams popped up from the driver’s compartment. “Private Christ, get up here!” shouted Sergeant Williams. “You’re riding with me!”