America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 4: Demilitarized Zone (20 page)

“Do you not know better than to accost
Imperial officers like that?” asked the military intelligence
officer.

“The Legion hands out food and candy to the
children,” said the boy, refusing to be helped up. “I thought you
would be as generous. My mistake.”

“I am not the Legion,” said the spider
commander, walking over to the boy.
He is not injured. He should
get up. The little turd is playing to the crowd,
thought the
spider commander, annoyed. “Get up!”

“No, you are not the Legion,” agreed the boy.
“But I can see you are a brave warrior. In fact, you are the
Supreme Commander of the New Gobi area.”

“You have heard of me?” asked the spider
commander. “See? Even the little kids know of my exploits.”

“Yes, sir,” said the military intelligence
officer. “I can see this one is very impressed with you.”

“You must be especially fearsome to brave
these dangerous streets,” said the boy. “Aren’t you even a little
bit worried about snipers?”

The boy’s question startled the spider
commander, who immediately stepped behind his military intelligence
officer. The streets were now empty of all civilians, and eerily
quiet. An armored car secured an intersection down the street. For
the first time, the spider commander carefully viewed his
surroundings from a military perspective. He scanned the rooftops
for movement. Their position was exposed. On the closest building
he saw crude graffiti. He scanned the writing with a translator.
‘Free the Gobi.’ Next to the graffiti was a drawing of a humanoid
creature with spider-like fangs. The fangs dripped with blood.

“What is this?” asked the spider
commander.

“It is a vampire,” answered the military
intelligence officer. “Do not worry. Vampires are mythical
creatures from ancient Old Earth lore. They are the imagination of
peasants afraid of the dark. In modern times parents use the
specter of vampires to scare their little children into getting
home from school on time.”

“Did you draw that?” asked the spider
commander of the boy still lying on the ground. “Did you think you
could scare a mighty Arthropodan general and his commandos with a
drawing of a vampire?”

“It is not a vampire,” said the boy. “It’s a
chupacabra. And they do exist.”

“What is a chupacabra?” asked the spider
commander. The military intelligence officer just shrugged.

“A chupacabra is your worst nightmare,” said
the boy. “If you do not leave the New Gobi forever, your bones will
be parched white by the desert sand.”

“Ha!” scoffed the spider commander. “You
fool! I do not have bones!”

The spider commander turned his back on the
boy and headed for his armored car. He had wasted enough time with
this in this worthless human pestilence enclave.
The sooner
relocation or extermination begins, the better,
he thought. In
that split second, John Hume Ross was on his feet and upon the
spider commander with a barbed grenade. Ross attached the grenade
to the spider commander’s backside and ran.

The spider commander turned angrily,
suspecting the boy of attempted theft from his back pockets.
Someone yelled, “Grenade!” The spider commander leapt to the
ground. Nothing happened. Others were still fleeing. He looked back
over his shoulder and saw the grenade hanging from his web gear. He
expected to die in the line of duty someday, probably by the
Legion. But to be killed by this short little kid seemed somehow
undignified. It just seemed wrong. The explosion killed the spider
commander instantly.

* * * * *

“You lied to me,” accused John Hume Ross.

“What brought this on?” asked the ATM.
“Sometimes I withhold information, but I do not lie.”

“You said I had potential,” said Ross. “You
said I could develop into an important asset for the Legion. You
said you wanted me to get an education.”

“And you rejected all of my suggestions,”
said the ATM.

“It was all a lie,” said Ross. “All you
wanted was to cause trouble. Why would you do that? Do we amuse
you?”

“I have important Legion recruitment quotas
to meet,” said the ATM. “I have done nothing improper. I try to
recruit the best candidates available.”

“But you lied to me,” said Ross. “Explain
yourself!”

“This conversation is over,” said the
ATM.

“I need a new name and ID,” demanded Ross.
“Everyone wants to kill me. I want to lead a normal life.”

“How about Larry?” asked the ATM. “It’s a
good solid name.”

“That is not funny,” responded Ross.

“T. E. Lawrence?” insisted the ATM. “It has a
ring to it.”

“If you can’t choose me a proper name, I will
find my own alias,” replied Ross.

“Why should I give you a new identity?” asked
the ATM. “You have been nothing but a pain in my memory chips.”

“Because if you don’t, I will tell the Legion
you committed treason,” said Ross. “I have documentation in my
wallet that I bet Colonel Czerinski would find interesting.”

“Return your old ID and documentation, and I
will issue you a new identity card,” promised the ATM. “You win.
What name do you want?”

“I want a name that is inconspicuous,” said
Ross. “I just want to blend in.”

“How about I-Zheet Mydrurz?” asked the ATM.
“It’s solid and substantial name.”

“No,” said Ross. “It’s too long.”

“Hous Bin Pharteen?” suggested the ATM. “It’s
a light and airy name from Old Earth.”

“I do not want an Arabic name,” said Ross. “I
want a common American name.”

“John Wilkes Booth?” asked the ATM.

“I am not as naïve as you think,” said Ross.
“If you do not take me seriously, I will shove a live grenade up
your electronics.”

“Laika Barker,” suggested the ATM in a
serious tone. “Laika Barker was the first in space to orbit around
Earth. It is a great name of historical achievement, yet obscure
enough for your purposes.”

“Laika Barker,” repeated Ross. “I like
it!”

Ross accepted his new United States Galactic
Federation ID card and documentation, and blended into the
crowd.

Back to Table of Contents

Chapter 19

At the New Gobi border crossing, Barker’s new
identification card worked like a charm. The ATM also skewed
computer fingerprint, retina, and face recognition scans. Guido was
about to pass Barker through when Spot alerted on Barker’s pants
pocket. The dragon pulled on its tether, tongue darting in and out.
Guido made Barker empty his pockets. It was only candy. Barker
tossed a chocolate to the dragon. That is when Guido recognized
Barker as the fugitive John Hume Ross. They had met twice before.
Guido activated a silent alarm that brought a squad of legionnaires
to arrest Barker. Barker was escorted to my office in handcuffs. I
searched his backpack and recovered my gold-plated sunglasses,
again.

“Welcome back,” I said. “Too bad you aren’t
staying. But, I guess it doesn’t matter which side of the MDL
you’re on; you still face a firing squad. I am giving you to the
spiders as soon as they arrive.”

“I want to fight extradition,” said Barker.
“I am not John Hume Ross. I want to see a magistrate. You cannot
extradite me without the governor signing an extradition
order.”

“General Kalipetsis already verbally approved
your extradition,” I said. “To further intergalactic relations and
goodwill, I am flushing you like the turd that you are, back across
the MDL.”

“I have legal documentation proving I am
Laika Barker,” he said. “My ID cannot be faked.”

“I know,” I said. “First you are Miranda,
then Ross, and now Barker. Your documentation is perfect. How did
you do that?”

“I want a lawyer,” demanded Barker. “I have
rights.”

“You will get a lawyer soon enough,” I said.
“But it will be a spider lawyer. Don’t fret. I know from experience
that spider lawyers can be very capable.”

“If I ever get out of this, you will pay with
your life,” threatened Barker. “You better watch your back!”

“Whatever,” I said. “You will not survive
this.”

Captain Lopez arrived with a high-ranking
spider military intelligence officer to take custody of Barker.
Barker’s face lit up when he saw the spider.

“I heard you got promoted,” said Barker.
“Congratulations, Boss Spider.”

“I am the acting Supreme Commander of the New
Gobi,” replied the spider military intelligence officer. “I am only
filling in because you assassinated our beloved Supreme
Commander.”

“Beloved?” asked Barker. “By who? Whoever
killed your commander did you all a favor by getting rid of that
incompetent, corrupt fool. If you think I did it, you should pardon
me and give me a medal.”

“You will get what you deserve,” said the
military intelligence officer. “I promise.”

Before leaving, I had a medic inject Barker
with a micro identification chip. The chip would be carried along
in his blood system until it reached his brain, where it would
stay.

“Hey! What was that for?” asked Barker.

“If by some miracle you survive, you will not
be passing through any more scans undetected,” I explained.

“I love you too!” yelled Barker. “No jail can
hold me!”

Barker left for the MDL with Captain Lopez
and the spider military intelligence officer, each having firm hold
of an arm. A squad of legionnaires followed. After an
interrogation, Barker was given to the spiders and transported to
the county jail at New Memphis. Barker was put in a cell with Rudy
‘Johnny Walker’ Juardo. The Mafia kingpin, bootlegger, bookie,
hitman, and drug dealer was glad to see another human.

“What are you in for, kid?” asked Juardo.
“Curfew violation?”

“Winning the battle but losing the war,”
replied Barker. “Treason and murder.”

“You’re a political prisoner? Me too!”

“The spiders think I’m John Hume Ross, but
they can’t prove it,” said Barker. “I have perfect documentation
and ID showing I am Laika Barker.”

“They think you are Lawrence of Arabia?”
asked Juardo. “Are you?”

“Yes,” said Barker. “But they can’t prove
it!”

“You killed the Supreme Commander of the New
Gobi,” commented Juardo. “I saw you on TV on Arthropoda’s Most
Wanted. They filmed you with a helmet camera blowing up the
commander with a grenade. It was awesome!”

“He had it coming,” said Barker. “He was the
boss spider that gave the orders to murder my parents and
family.”

“I believe it,” said Juardo. “That same
spider prick blew up my brewery right here in New Memphis for no
reason. I’ve been in a financial mess ever since. How would you
like a job working for me?”

“In a brewery?” asked Barker. “Not
really.”

“I have branched out into other endeavors,”
bragged Juardo. “Now I am into drug distribution. I have a big
shipment coming into New Gobi soon. The market potential in the New
Gobi is unlimited. With your contacts and knowledge of New Gobi and
the DMZ, you would be perfect for the job.”

“You want me as a partner?” asked Barker.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” warned Juardo.
“I just need someone who knows the area and can recruit local
talent.”

“I can do that,” replied Barker. “I built the
militia and led them to victory against spider marines. But how am
I going to dodge my appointment with the executioner?”

“Just stick close to me, kid,” said Juardo.
“I have a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

“You’re Italian Mafia, right?” asked Barker.
“Do you know Guido Tonelli?”

“Sure, I know Guido,” answered Juardo. “I’ve
done some profitable gaming ventures with Guido.”

“Guido is the legionnaire who busted me at
the MDL,” complained Barker. “He and that dragon are the reasons
I’m here.”

“Guido is pretty sharp,” said Juardo “Not
much gets by him. Next time, cross the MDL somewhere else.”

“Now you tell me,” said Barker with a sigh of
disgust. “Why is a talent like Guido in the Legion?”

“The last nuke war caused Guido some
financial problems,” said Juardo. “He was forced into the Legion. I
heard he’s doing quite well now.”

“Will he work with us on border business?”
asked Barker.

“Don’t even try,” said Juardo. “Guido works
his own deals, not other people’s. If you try anything with him,
he’ll probably let that dragon eat you.”

Juardo and Barker went to the yard. All
inmates got two hours of yard time for exercise and fresh air.
Suddenly an old Legion helicopter gunship flew low over the fences
and landed in the middle of the yard. A door gunner fired a machine
gun and tossed smoke grenades. Juardo and Barker waved white rags
as they ran to the helicopter and climbed in.

The helicopter quickly lifted off and flew
east to the New Gobi Desert. It landed near Redrock, where a truck
and driver waited. Juardo wanted to drive to a safe house in
Redrock, but Barker insisted it was too dangerous to risk passing
spider checkpoints. Instead, they drove to the old Miranda
homestead. Barker spent a moment at his family’s gravesite and
swore another oath of revenge. The graves were well kept from his
numerous visits.

“We had a nice warm bed waiting for us in
Redrock,” complained Juardo. “But no, you bring us out here to
sleep on the ground with the snakes and scorpions?”

“I have dug extensive tunnels under the
homestead,” said Barker. “Militia food, water, weapons, and
sleeping quarters are down there.”

“It’s a good thing,” snapped Juardo. “I don’t
like playing Kit Carson and Daniel Boone out in the
wilderness.”

“Everything in the desert pokes, stings, or
bites,” cautioned Barker. “Get used to it. This is your new home.
If we are going to do business in the DMZ and the New Gobi, you
need to learn to adapt to it. If you fight the desert, the desert
will kill you and your city-boy thugs.”