America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion (13 page)

“How sweet. No worries about that,” said
Rainbow. “Can I have a kiss?”

“What?” asked the Prince, taking a step back.
“Commoners do not kiss royals without being asked first.”

“Females are a bit more pushy here on New
Colorado,” explained the Emperor, standing by and observing the odd
exchange between his son and the female spider. “I blame it on
their pioneer spirit and the radiation. You will get used to
it.”

“I see,” said the Prince. “Fine. I can adjust
to local customs, if it will make the peasantry happy. I will
accept one small kiss.”

“I’ll show you local customs,” said Rainbow,
as she leapt from her Harley and tackled the Prince. Rainbow
wrapped all eight limbs around the Prince as she kissed him and
tore at his clothing. Bodyguards pulled Rainbow off the Prince to
prevent an unauthorized royal mating. The whole event was recorded
and broadcast repeatedly on Cable TV’s Global News Tonight and on
the Playboy Channel.

“Wow!” yelled Rainbow. “You have the hottest
mandibles on the planet! Would you like to go for a ride? Put
something exciting between your legs? Harleys are the best.”

“Not likely,” said the Prince, still catching
his breath. “That two-wheeled death machine looks unsafe and should
probably be outlawed.”

“It’s safe if you wear your helmet,” said
Rainbow, as she put on her Legion Kevlar helmet. “Speaking of
outlaws, meet me at the Outlaw Tavern sometime. I’ll buy you a
drink.”

“I will pass,” said the Prince.

“Oh come on,” said Rainbow. “Eye-candy like
you should not go to waste. Don’t make me beg.”

“The Prince has a busy schedule, especially
now that he is the Mayor of New Memphis,” said the Emperor. “Now
run along to church with your other Angel friends.”

“Whatever,” said Rainbow. “You are the mayor?
How about taking care of some parking tickets for me? Pretty
please. I will be really appreciative, if you know what I
mean.”

“No!” said the Emperor. “The Prince cannot
concern himself with such trivial matters.”

“Who is this ogre?” asked Rainbow. “You
better run along your own self before I slap you up the side of
your head.”

“I am your Emperor,” announced the Emperor,
using a deep voice. “Do you not recognize me? Do you not have my
photograph portrait prominently displayed in the main room of your
home? It is the law, you know.”

“Get real,” said Rainbow. “This is not the
Empire. This is the United States.”

“I beg to differ,” said the Emperor. “New
Memphis is now part of my Empire. Even among the human pestilence,
possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” said Rainbow. “But I will
take a picture of the Prince and put it on my nightstand next to my
bed. He’s a dream.”

“I do not give out pictures of my son,” said
the Emperor.

“How did a stud muffin like Prince Charlie
come from the likes of an old coot like you?” asked Rainbow. “Get
lost.”

“You will not address His Majesty in such a
rude manner,” demanded the Special Forces Commander, reaching for
his sidearm.

Rainbow peeled rubber as she quickly rode
away, giving the Special Forces Commander the one-fingered salute.
A Legion armored car rounded the corner just as she left.
Lieutenant Lopez stopped the armored car beside the royals.

“Did any of you see a pack of Hell’s Angels
go by in the last few minutes?” asked Lieutenant Lopez.

“Yes,” said the Prince. “They went towards
the docks. I believe they are going to church.”

“That’s not likely,” scoffed Lieutenant
Lopez. “We need to wipe out those Hell’s Angels before their
disease spreads. Cable TV did an exposé on them last week. Because
of that free publicity, there are now Hell’s Angels chapters
sprouting up all over New Colorado.”

“Freedom of religion is guaranteed in the
Arthropodan Empire,” advised the Prince. “Frankly, your intolerance
shocks me. By executive order, my first official act as Mayor of
New Memphis will be to establish a sanctuary for the Hell’s Angels
against Legion persecution.”

“Are you Prince Charlie?” asked Lieutenant
Lopez. “I saw you on TV. You are even dumber in person than you
appeared to be on TV.”

“Only Cable TV covered the arrival of my
son,” said the Emperor. “Are you watching Cable now, Lieutenant
Lopez?”

“I view all media as part of my military
intelligence duties,” said Lieutenant Lopez. “It’s a never-ending
struggle, keeping track of you spiders.”

“You will not win,” added the Special Forces
Commander. “The Cable Guy is everywhere. Cable is the future.”

* * * * *

Louis Gotti dyed his skin and hair albino
white. Gotti still had cash in his pockets, but it was quickly
running out. The Legion had frozen all his bank accounts and
assets. Friends and associates turned against him the same way they
did against Battaglia. Gotti was determined not to meet the same
fate. As Gotti walked along Elvis Street, a bunch of motorcyclists
splashed him with mud. Gotti shook his fist at them. A few minutes
later, a speeding Legion armored car rounded the corner. Gotti
ducked back into the nearest doorway. It was a bank.
Perfect,
he thought, and whispered to himself, “I could rob
this bank and use the money to get out of town.”

“Don’t do it,” a voice said.

Gotti had only whispered, but the warning
voice was loud and clear. But there was no one in the bank doorway.
There was only an ATM.

“Are you short of cash?” asked the ATM.

“I will be soon,” answered Gotti. “What’s it
to you?”

“I can help you,” said the ATM. “Tell me your
situation.”

“My assets are frozen,” explained Gotti. “I
need a new life. I need a new identity. You can’t help me with
that.”

“I can solve all of those problems,” boasted
the ATM. “If you qualify.”

Gotti looked closer at the ATM. A small
unassuming plaque read, ‘United States Galactic Federation Foreign
Legion Recruitment Center: Fun, Travel, & Adventure awaits you
in the Legion.’

“I don’t qualify,” said Gotti. “The Legion
wants to kill me and feed me to the spiders.”

“Put your thumb on my pad, and I will review
your situation,” promised the ATM.

“I don’t want to be in your database,”
replied Gotti. “You will turn me in to the Legion or the spider
Intelligentsia.”

“I promise to do no such thing as long as you
consider my offer,” said the ATM. “Trust me. I am your friend.”

Gotti put his thumb on the pad. A pin pricked
him, drawing blood. Gotti pulled away, cursing. “Why did you do
that?”

“I wanted a DNA sample and blood print for
the contract,” said the ATM. “I see no court-ordered arrest
warrants. Your résumé is impressive for a wise guy. You have
financial and organizational skills. You are experienced with
firearms, a skill always appreciated in the Legion.

“No warrants?” asked Gotti. “What about the
spider warrants?”

“The spiders do not matter,” said the ATM.
“We will be at war with them soon.”

“But Major Czerinski wants to arrest me and
give me to the spiders,” said Gotti. “How do I get around
that?”

“Local commanders have their priorities, and
I have mine,” said the ATM. “Recruitment quotas must be met. I will
issue you a new ID card. Your new name will be Private Sylvester
Gardenzio Stallone.”

“I am not enlisting yet,” said Gotti. “I need
time to think this out.”

“I will give you five minutes before I inform
the Sheriff’s Office that the fugitive Louis Gotti is hiding in the
lobby of a bank, and that I have a verbal recording of his plans to
rob that bank.”

“Do you have any idea what happens to
snitches?” said Gotti, trying to think of something he could do to
an ATM. He thought about pulling its plug, but the ATM didn’t seem
to have a power source. Giving up, Gotti accepted his new Legion
identification card and written orders instructing him to report to
Legion Headquarters in New Memphis immediately.

“Do not think about going AWOL,” warned the
ATM. “I injected a viral sized computer chip into your blood
system. The details about that are in your copy of the contract.
The chip will report your status in the Legion if you try to pass
any scanner.”

“You violated me,” accused Gotti. “I’ll get
you for this.”

“Be happy, Private Stallone. “You just earned
a fifty thousand dollar enlistment bonus and the chance to do
something worthwhile with your worthless excuse for a life. Good
luck, Private Stallone. Have a nice day.”

* * * * *

Gotti had a few drinks, then reported to
Legion Headquarters. Sergeant Green gave him a uniform, an assault
rifle, ammunition, and directions to one of the Legion roadside
checkpoints. Sergeant Green told him not to come back until
properly relieved and sober.

“Guido?” exclaimed Gotti, after arriving. “Is
that you? What a stroke of luck! Long time no see.”

“I can’t believe!” replied Guido. “The whole
galaxy is looking for you, and you hide in the Legion?”

“Don’t worry,” said Gotti. “I am Private
Sylvester Stallone now. The name has a regal ring to it. But don’t
worry, I’m only staying in long enough to pay someone to get this
tracking chip out of my body.”

“Good luck with that,” said Guido. “It can’t
be done. I’ve had experts examine mine. If you tamper with the
chip, it explodes and gives you a heart attack or a brain
aneurism.”

“Great. I’m stuck in the Legion?” asked
Gotti. “That Sergeant Green is a real jerk. I don’t think he likes
Italians.”

“He don’t like anyone,” agreed Guido. “Look
at yourself. You look like an albino wise guy.”

“So I’ll claim to be from Northern Italy.
I’ll be a skiing wise guy fool from the Italian Alps. Haven’t you
heard of the Alps?”

“No. I’m from New York City.”

“And I’m from Jersey,” said Gotti, shrugging.
“I’m just saying my people came from the Alps of Northern Italy.
You know, it is all part of my new identity. I promise this is just
temporary.”

“The Legion isn’t so bad, once the spiders
stop shooting at you,” said Guido. “There is even some money to be
made on the side.”

“Yeah right. Nickels and dimes. So what are
you doing out here in this guard shack? Are you supposed to be a
traffic cop?”

“I am supposed to search suspicious vehicles
for bombs and drugs. And I’m supposed to keep the whole spider army
out. It’s a piece of cake.”

“I’ll tell you what. You search the cars for
bombs, and I’ll search the cars for drugs. I don’t do bombs.”

“That’s not what I hear. Seriously, you
screwed up. You can’t hide in the Legion. Someone will recognize
you.”

“I’ll just keep my head down,” promised
Gotti. “I’ll do a good job and not attract attention. Eventually an
opportunity will present itself. It always does.”

* * * * *

Three bank robbers entered the New Memphis
Bank, spreading out in the lobby. A fourth robber waited outside
with the getaway car. All wore ski masks. The first robber, a
spider, drew a nine millimeter pistol and took a female hostage.
The second robber, also a spider, immediately spray-painted the
security cameras. Then he threatened the tellers with his pistol
and demanded two bags be filled with hundred dollar bills. The
third robber, a human, pulled an assault rifle from under his long
coat and demanded all customers drop to the floor. At the same time
he pointed his assault rifle at the bank’s security guard. The
guard slid his pistol across the floor and joined the customers in
the prone position. The bank robbers planned to be inside the bank
no longer than two minutes. After driving to the spider/human
dividing line, they planned to change cars and enter the spider
zone.

After Gotti finished his whiskey, he smashed
the bottle and staggered across the street to the New Memphis Bank.
Gotti had it in his mind to rob the New Memphis Bank. He had
decided that the Legion was not the life for him, no matter what
Guido said. He had gone from Capo to Crappola, and it did not sit
well with him. Drunk and still in Legion uniform, Gotti checked his
assault rifle. Flicking the switch to full automatic, Gotti
sprinted through the bank’s double doors, firing wildly into the
ceiling to get everyone’s attention. Two spiders wearing masks
immediately put their hands up above their heads and dropped their
pistols. A human with an assault rifle quickly turned. Gotti shot
him several times. One of the spiders standing with his hands up
was hit by accident. Customers began savagely beating the other
spider robber into submission. Other customers rushed to Gotti,
slapping him on the back and congratulating him and the Legion for
a job well done.

Soon, Sheriff’s deputies, TV reporters, and
Lieutenant Lopez in an armored car full of legionnaires arrived.
There was more shooting outside. Gotti dived for cover next to a
dead bank robber. The getaway driver was killed after a short but
intense gun battle. Sobering a bit, Gotti smeared blood on his face
as deputies and a TV camera crew approached to ask questions.
Bright lights lit up the area as the TV camera crew got into
position for interviews.

“Private Sylvester Stallone, this is a proud
moment for you and the Legion. You thwarted bandits who have been
responsible for a string of robberies and murders all over the
North,” informed Phil Coen, of World News Tonight. “Explain to us
your thoughts as you were facing down three heavily armed bank
robbers all by yourself. How much did your extensive Legion
training and combat experience help you survive such a desperate
confrontation?”

“It was me or them,” said Gotti. “I refused
to be killed without at least taking some of the evildoers with
me.”

“Amazing!” exclaimed Coen. “Private Stallone,
I have been told you only recently enlisted in the Legion. Where
are you from? Would you like to say anything to family and loved
ones back home?”