America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion (21 page)

“Why?” I asked, also rising. “So you can eat
him for lunch?”

The Governor removed his dress white gloves
from his belt and slapped me across the face. “I challenge you to a
duel on a field of honor.”

I threw a punch at the Governor, but General
Kalipetsis and his aides pulled me back, causing my swing to go
wild. “Are you serious?” I yelled.

“Choose your weapons,” said the Governor. “I
believe that is your Old Earth custom.”

“Dueling was outlawed centuries ago,” I said,
now calm. “I will not participate in a duel or any other grandiose
spectacle.”

“Coward!” accused the Governor. “I have read
your human pestilence history on the database. All your great
warriors dueled. Even your modern presidents dueled.”

“It’s illegal,” I repeated. “Dueling has been
relegated to the dust of antiquity.”

“You are just chicken,” said the Governor. “I
have researched the matter. Dueling is only illegal on Earth. There
is no such prohibition on your ill-begotten colonies.”

“Go ahead and fight him,” suggested General
Kalipetsis. “I think you can take him. You aren’t afraid are
you?”

“Yes,” I answered in a low voice. “He was
Special Forces before he became Governor. Besides knowing martial
arts, that bug probably has some nasty fighting tricks up his
claw.”

“Choose your weapons,” repeated the Governor.
“If you dare!”

“Tanks,” I said. “Howitzers at dawn.”

“Duels are fought with personal weapons,”
said the Governor. “I suggest sabers.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I said. “How
about I just shoot you now and get it over with?”

“Challenge him to a boxing match,” suggested
General Kalipetsis. “Hopefully no one will get killed.”

“Boxing?” asked the Governor, checking the
database. “What is boxing?”

“Boxing is fighting for sport with padded
gloves,” said General Kalipetsis. “It’s been a traditional sport on
Earth for centuries.”

“I like boxing,” said the Governor, after
viewing hits on the database for several minutes. “I will float
like a butterfly, and sting like a bee.”

“I accept,” I said. “Care to put a wager on
the outcome?”

“Not money,” said the Governor.

“Chicken?” I asked. “Put your money where
your mouth is.”

“If I win, the Legion will immediately agree
to all demands stated earlier,” said the Governor.

“The Dachshund stays,” said General
Kalipetsis.

“Fine,” said the Governor. “And if, by some
miracle of God, you win?”

“All Arthropodan military units must withdraw
to East Finisterra,” I demanded.

The Governor hesitated. “I agree,” he said.
“I cannot lose. My three fists and one claw will easily defeat your
two puny fleshy hands.”

“Keep trying to convince yourself, and maybe
the delusion will seem real after a while,” I taunted. “Just
remember, reality sucks, and then you die. I look forward to seeing
your lips, or whatever, hit the mat.”

* * * * *

When the Hell’s Angels got to Battle Creek,
the town was full of legionnaires. Both the spider Governor and
General Kalipetsis were in town for treaty negotiations. Both sides
wanted to impress the other and had beefed up their military
presence.

The Hell’s Angels were turned away at the
border for being outlaws. That was fine with Amber. She did not
need to cross the border to meet her contact and conduct business.
Amber merely needed to wait until he came on duty at the spider
checkpoint. When her contact finally arrived, Amber ran up to greet
him with a handshake and a hug. The Military Intelligence Officer
recognized the contact, too. It was his long-lost team leader.

“Sir!” exclaimed the team leader. “You
escaped? I thought you were sent south to the New Disneyland
Prison. I am so glad to see you.”

“And I thought you had been shot dead by the
Legion,” said the Military Intelligence Officer. “I am glad to see
you, too. You are dealing drugs? How long has this been going
on?”

“I can explain,” said the team leader. “This
is just a small part of a large business plan.”

“You two know each other?” asked Amber. “How
is that possible?”

“He is my commanding officer,” said the team
leader. “He is in charge of Military Intelligence for this entire
sector.”

“You’re a narc?” asked Amber, drawing her
pistol. “You’re dead!”

“Wait!” warned the team leader. “Not here.
Shots will draw too much attention. Put that gun away.”

“Just give me the money, and we’ll make the
transaction,” said Amber. “You do have the money?”

“I am a little short,” said the team leader.
“I need more time to raise it. You know I am good for the money. I
have it. I just have a small cash flow problem.”

“I don’t know that at all, and I am not a
credit agency,” said Amber, now pointing her nine millimeter at the
team leader. “If you think you can burn me like this, you have made
your last mistake.”

The Military Intelligence Officer grabbed the
gun from Amber and shoved her away from the guard shack. Amber and
the other Hell’s Angels quickly dispersed from the border crossing
as legionnaires and spider soldiers, attracted by the commotion,
came running up to investigate. The Military Intelligence Officer
placed his team leader under arrest, and ordered him interrogated
for accomplices. Then, he joined the Governor at the negotiations
to brief him.

* * * * *

The fight between the Governor of the North
Territory and myself promised to be even bigger than the dragon
fight. Legion engineers bulldozed an airstrip in the forest so that
fight fans and the media could fly in. Engineers also built an
outdoor arena. The fight was being promoted as ‘The Second Battle
of Battle Creek.’

The unofficial betting line from New Memphis
had me favored at two to one. However, most legionnaires from First
Division were not placing their bets until they got the nod from
Guido. And, Guido was not placing his bets until he had a chance to
talk to me first. I summoned Guido to my office to talk to him
about another matter.

“Corporal Tonelli, we don’t get to talk often
enough,” I said. “But I’ll get right to the point. At the
negotiations today, the Spider Governor handed me an Imperial
warrant for your arrest. It seems they think you are involved in a
conspiracy to smuggle dangerous drugs across the border. Your
co-conspirator is one of the spiders that you let escape your
custody. Interestingly, the charging officer is the other spider
that escaped your custody. When I add to that the incident with
Gotti being captured while you two were on guard duty together, I
think you have some serious explaining to do. If the spiders don’t
put you in front of a firing squad, the Legion probably will.”

“Legionnaires can’t be extradited to a
hostile power,” said Guido. “I deny any wrongdoing.”

“Let me shoot him,” said Captain Lopez. “I’ll
bury him myself.”

“Forget the legalese,” I said, ignoring
Lopez. “General Kalipetsis wants this matter resolved. Come clean,
or this won’t end well for you.”

“Technically I am guilty of everything,” said
Guido. “But there are extenuating circumstances. I only survived
Gotti’s abduction because I paid off an old spider friend. Later I
let him escape to square us and to try to get some of my money
back. You can understand that can’t you? That same commando used my
money on land speculation and to fund some questionable deals,
maybe involving drugs. But there is another more important and
urgent matter that I need to discuss with you.”

“More important than charges of treason, drug
trafficking, and multiple counts of criminal conspiracy?” I asked.
“This I have to hear!”

“Yes,” said Guido. “You need to take a dive
when you fight the Governor. Preferably, not until the third
round.”

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Chapter 17

Thousands bought tickets for the fight, with
the proceeds going to the First Division’s Widows and Orphans Fund.
The media was broadcasting the fight across the galaxy. Even Cable
TV promised to have secret cameras at the fight. Rumors were that
the President and the Emperor would attend the fight, and special
secure box seats were being built. The betting odds from New
Memphis had increased in my favor three to one.

The referee was the Sheriff of New Memphis.
During pre-fight preliminaries, he walked to both corners to check
each corner and to say a few words about what he expected from us.
The Sheriff wanted no head-butting, biting, clutching, kicking, or
spitting. When the Sheriff checked my gloves, he immediately became
suspicious. When I was forced to remove my gloves, the Sheriff
found a roll of coins in each glove. The Sheriff advised me I would
lose a point for unsportsmanlike conduct. I told the Sheriff I knew
where he lived.

The Sheriff made the same inspection of the
Governor’s gloves, and found a mysterious brown powder. When the
Sheriff slapped the gloves, the powder hung in the air and stung
his eyes. Its smell burned the throat and nose. When asked about
the powder, the Governor dismissed it as a minor detail and told
the Sheriff to go talk to the trainer. A point was deducted, and
the fight was delayed until new gloves could be found. In the
meantime, the Governor strutted around the ring, playing to the
audience and yelling, “The human pestilence will fall!”

* * * * *

ROUND ONE: After we touched gloves in a show
of sportsmanship, my first few punches were thrown below the belt.
The Sheriff separated us and penalized me a point. I argued that
spiders didn’t have testicles and so it didn’t matter where I hit
him, but the Sheriff insisted that all boxing rules would be
enforced. I continued to hit low. I kept my forearms tucked in and
my gloves up, trying to protect my face and midsection. The
Governor, who was lighter and quicker on his four feet, circled and
jabbed. I was cut above my left eye early on by the Governor’s
claw. Even padded, the claw was a formidable weapon. I threw a lot
of punches and expended a lot of energy. I hoped to wear the
governor down with low punches and punches to his midsection.
However, when the bell rang, ending the first round, the Governor
seemed as fresh as ever. My blows seemed to bounce off the spider’s
exoskeleton. Not only did my punches seem to have no force left in
them, but my arms were getting tired and heavy. I had to throw my
whole body forward to deliver a punch. This was not a good start,
but I think the scoring was even.

ROUND TWO: I was still breathing hard, but
the rest as I sat in my corner did me good. I came out with a
flurry of low punches. By now the Sheriff had given up trying to
stop all the low blows, and I ignored his warnings. Gradually, the
Governor lowered his fists to protect against low blows. My arms
were getting heavy again. I needed to end this with one big punch.
When the Governor lowered his gloves to protect himself, I feinted
low and landed a roundhouse punch to the Governor’s face. My
prosthetic hand gave the blow extra impact, knocking the Governor
flat on his back. The referee began counting, but the Governor
slowly got back up. One of his mandibles was broken and hanging
from his bleeding face. The Governor nodded to the ref that he
wanted to continue. The Governor circled, cautiously throwing jabs
to keep me away. I tried to finish him off by throwing a series of
head punches, but the Governor just danced out of range and ducked
my punches. I was disappointed, but it did not matter. I was too
tired to finish him off. My punches had no snap left in them. Even
when I landed a punch, it had no effect. I tried to hold onto the
Governor, scraping him with my glove laces and hitting him with
elbows. By the end of the round, the Governor had hit me in the
head with multiple punches. When the bell rang I staggered back to
my corner.

ROUND THREE: I hoped I might be ahead on
points because I had knocked the Governor down with the hardest
punch of the night. Now, I was evading punches, hoping to rest my
arms and get my second wind. It didn’t work. My strategy only gave
the Governor more confidence, and I was still dead tired. He chased
my about the ring. One punch to the head hit me so hard that the
back of my neck hurt. As the end of the third round neared, the
Governor caught me with a claw hook to my chin. I dropped to the
canvas like a bag of potatoes. As the Sheriff began the ten count,
the Governor leaned down and hissed in my ear, “Third round, just
like Guido wanted. Good fight, legionnaire.”

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Contents

Chapter 18

Guido brought a suitcase of money by my
hospital room. My jaw was broken, wired shut, so Guido did most of
the talking.

“Major, you put on a great show,” said Guido.
“You had me worried in the second round when you knocked the
Governor off his feet. I actually thought for a moment that you
were trying to win the fight.”

“Not me,” I mumbled.

“Sorry about your jaw getting broken and that
nasty cut above your eye,” said Guido. “The Governor sends his
apologies, too.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled again.

“If it’s any consolation,” said Guido, “the
Governor is in the hospital, too. I think they’re using super glue
to put his face back together again.”

“That does make me feel better,” I said. It
hurt to talk.

“Almost every legionnaire in First Division
bet against you after I gave them the word,” said Guido. “They’re
all rich now. You’re everyone’s hero. Even General Kalipetsis made
money.”

“When I get out of the hospital, I’m going to
shoot someone,” I promised. “I don’t know who yet, but you had
better make yourself scarce.”