America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 21: Breaking Very Bad (2 page)

“Whyte got his Legion reprieve and new identity by doing me a solid on Old Earth, avenging a buddy’s death. But it wasn’t enough. I’ll kill him and Pink myself before we’re through on New Colorado.”

Chapter 2

Badger and Skinny Pete smuggled blue powder across the border from the USGF to the Arthropodan side by duct-taping packets of blue powder to remote-controlled giant desert tortoises.
Ha! Another use for duct tape.

Smuggling drugs on tortoises was a slow process, but well worth the wait. No one dared mess with a tortoise because they were on the Endangered Species List. Molesting a tortoise was a serious felony on both sides of the border. Badger and Skinny Pete patiently watched their tortoise mule slowly navigate its way through a spider minefield.

“Maybe we should duct-tape blue powder to jackrabbits,” suggested Badger, sweating profusely under the intense New Gobi sun. “At this rate, I’ll be sober before that stupid turtle gets across.”

“Ever try to catch a jackrabbit?” asked Skinny Pete. “It can’t be done. Just chill. He’s almost to the road.”

“There’s no chilling in one-hundred-twenty-degree heat!”

“Get down! Spiders!”

* * * * *

A column of Arthropodan Marines crested the hill just as the tortoise reached the road. The lead armored car’s treads cracked the tortoise’s shell open like a green egg. A cloud of blue powder shot up over the spider marines as the column came to a halt.

A spider officer jumped down to inspect the gooey mess. “What the hell? This is what happens when you don’t pay attention! Do you know how much paperwork this is going to cause?”

“No, sir,” replied the driver.

“Probably a lot. Those slugs with shells, yet another invasive species from Old Earth protected by treaty, are on the Protected Species List. Damn it, this is worse than running over those blue lizards and darter snails.”

“That’s snail darters, sir. They’re fish and don’t live in the desert.”

“See? Extinct already because of reckless drivers like you!”

The driver and other spider marines inhaled deeply as the blue-powder cloud drifted past.

“Don your masks!” ordered a sergeant. “That’s blue powder!”

“Whatever,” replied the driver, sucking up more cloud. “Are we there yet?”

“I’m there,” answered a gunner. “That’s some quality shit.”

“Everyone stop breathing!” ordered the spider commander as he examined packets still taped to the tortoise. “Anyone who takes another breath is under arrest!”

Marines crowded around to get a closer look at the accident. The spider commander reached for binoculars to scan the distant ridge across the minefield. Sure enough, two human pestilence lay concealed in the sage brush.

“I see them, too,” advised the sergeant, a bit wobbly. “A fat human pestilence and a skinny one. Shall we open fire?”

“Capture them for interrogation.”

* * * * *

Spider marines deployed across the border, circling behind Badger and Skinny Pete, taking them by surprise. The spider commander lorded over the hapless smugglers, pointing his pistol. “You’re under arrest. Who do you work for?”

“We’re independent contractors,” answered Badger, proudly. “Hey! You spiders can’t arrest us on this side of the border. We’re American citizens. We have rights against alien abductions. It’s in the Constitution somewhere.”

“Answer my questions, or you die on the spot. Who is your contact on our side? Why didn’t you use jackrabbits?”

“Shut up with the jackrabbits.”

The spider back-clawed Badger across the face with his pistol. Badger spit out a tooth as he tried to crawl away, but was stomped on by spider marines.

“Tell him everything!” shouted Skinny Pete. “These spider dudes mean business. This ain’t Albuquerque.”

“I can’t be killed,” boasted Badger in a moment of ill-advised bravado. “I’m the loveable sidekick that survived five seasons!”

“That’s harsh, bro,” interrupted Skinny Pete, sensitive about critics’ comments. “Are you saying I’m not loveable?”

“You’re an ugly crackhead,” accused Badger.

“Man, that’s discrimination against crackheads. Talk about the junky calling the user an addict.”

“Who do you work for?” repeated the spider commander, pointing his pistol at Skinny Pete. “Tell me now!”

“The Legion,” confessed Skinny Pete, groveling at the commander’s feet. “Please don’t shoot me. We’re simple dues-paying members of the Actors’ Guild trying to make a living. Can’t we make a deal? I can tell you the location of the Legion’s blue-powder lab. Just let us go!”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s under the Pizza Hut in New Gobi City.”

“Not KFC?” asked the spider commander skeptically. “That’s where I would have put it.”

“No, it’s under Pizza Hut. I swear!”

“Is the human pestilence subspecies Italiano using Mafia connections to move blue powder across the border?”

“There’s no such thing as the Mafia,” advised Skinny Pete. “Just saying.”

“You’re an addict, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been clean a while, but the rush, the sweet temptation, it draws you back. Once you’ve done blue powder, are you ever really free?”

“Liar!” shouted the spider commander, shooting Skinny Pete in the head. Blood splattered across Badger, terrifying the loveable sidekick even more.

“Who is your commanding officer?” the spider commander demanded.

“Major Lopez of the Legion,” answered Badger. “Please don’t kill me!”

“You work for the Cartel? Why are you not using drones to smuggle drugs?”

Glancing at his dead cohort splayed in the sand, Badger recalled Lopez’s excuse for not providing better resources and grumbled, “Tortoises are lame. Low tech is better, my ass.” He looked up at the spider commander. “We told you what you want to know about the lab. So, I can go?”

“Not likely, human pestilence.”

“Can’t we all just get along? Some of my best friends are you spiders.”

“You spiders?” echoed the spider commander, offended. “I should shoot you in the head now and leave your body slumped over your partner’s. Two more fools to be claimed by the New Gobi Desert, two less members of the Actors’ Guild. However, the matter needs more study.”

Obviously feeling magnanimous, the spider commander spared Badger. “If indeed you putrid jellified mass of human pestilence are as loveable as you claim, you might be useful as a spy for the Empire.” The spider commander dialed his translation device down to outlawed Albuquerque Mafia slang and added, “Yo, punk-ass fool, you will be my snitch on the inside, or I’ll whack you.”

“No way I’ll be your alien bitch,” protested Badger. “I’m a righteous dude. I don’t roll that way.”

“
Bitch
. Yes, that’s the word I was looking for,” agreed the spider commander, fine-tuning the translator beyond politically correct civilized limits. “Yo, biotch! You will do my bidding because I got yo punk-ass bent over between a rock and a much harder substance, probably titanium.”

“Say what?”

“Snitch or die!”

“Fine, bro. You got me. I’ve gone over to the Dark Side. Who would have thought loveable Badger would be a snitch for the alien feds in a galaxy far, far away?”

“Stop whining!” ordered the spider commander, back-clawing Badger across the face again. “You will provide details about human pestilence drug cartels.”

“Yes, lord and master gnarly spider dude.”

* * * * *

Badger wandered in from the desert like Amos Moses, dehydrated and babbling tales of alien abduction. Legionnaires gathered to gawk. At the border crossing gate, Badger hugged his long-lost friend, Jesse. Private Whyte backed away, hoping to not be so conspicuous.

“Thank God you’re here. I heard you escaped Old Earth. The spiders murdered Skinny Pete, but not before torturing and doing unmentionable things.”

“You were probed?” asked Pink. “I don’t think I could handle that. I’d rather die.”

“What’s your name?” asked Sergeant Green, interrupting the love fest.

“Badger.”

“Do you have a last name, Badger?”

“I’m CIA. If you knew my real identity, I’d have to kill you, yo.”

“Like hell, you say,” responded Sergeant Green, grabbing Badger and shaking him. “I will have you shot if you don’t start talking. How do you know Private Pink?”

“Jesse is my bro from back in the real world,” explained Badger, clutching Pink tighter. “Jesse can vouch for me!”

“Get off me!” shouted Pink, wanting to shut Badger up. The fool never knew when to shut up.

“Don’t be like that,” pleaded Badger. “Hook a brother up. What are you doing on New Colorado?”

“Getting a life,” answered Pink. “You’re snitching for the CIA? You wearing a wire?”

“Don’t go there, bro.”

“Drop your droopy drawers,” ordered Sergeant Green. “Do it now!”

“No way,” protested Badger. “I don’t roll that way. I’m not wearing a wire.”

“He’s a snitch,” exclaimed Pink, shoving Badger.

Legionnaires immediately pummeled Badger, giving him the boot. Snitches weren’t tolerated out on the frontier. Sure enough, upon close examination an alien microchip was found embedded in Badger’s flabby ass. Sergeant Green drew his pistol for summary execution of the traitor.

“Perhaps Colonel Czerinski might want to interrogate the prisoner,” suggested Private Whyte, stepping forward, a voice of reason amid the chaos. “It’s just a thought.”

“You won’t die so easy,” threatened Sergeant Green, releasing Badger from his grip. “You will be killed slow and painful, spilling all your secrets, including your last name.”

“Never! My last name isn’t even in the credits. It’s a secret even to me. I demand representation. I’m a current dues-paying member of the Actors’ Guild. I want a lawyer!”

“We’ll see about that, Mr. Badger. No slimy lawyer, or even a union rep, will save you now.”

Chapter 3

I woke to the sound of air-raid sirens. A single Arthropodan missile slammed into Pizza Hut. Uninvited, DEA Agent Hanks met me at the crater that was once the finest restaurant in New Gobi City. The blast uncovered a cavern containing a large industrial infrastructure.
What the hell?

“This is bad,” commented Major Lopez. “Where do we eat lunch now?”

“I’ve seen this before,” mused Agent Hanks, ignoring Lopez’s concern. “There was a blue-powder lab under Taco Bell.”

“Taco Bell makes blue powder?” I asked. “Who knew? How long has this been going on?”

“Usually it’s fast food chicken, but the drug cartels are expanding their MO. Next it will be Burger King or McDonald’s.”

“No way,” I scoffed. “McDonald’s is an American icon.”

“Exactly why we must be unrelenting in our war against drugs.”

“I’m not a cop,” I groused. “I shouldn’t have to get involved in fighting your war on drugs.”

“It’s not just
my
war. We’re all involved, whether we like it or not.”

I relented. “I’ll order all fast food distribution centers searched, starting with KFC.”

“How did the spiders know about the drug lab?” asked Major Lopez, picking through the rubble.

“Drug lab or not,” I countered, “it sets a bad precedent, letting them bomb our fast food.”

“I agree the bugs should have warned us,” Agent Hanks conceded, “but I say we cut our losses and move on.”

“Still, they should have given us a head up,” I argued. “I’ll send the spider commander a stern warning not to kill our drug dealers south of the border without telling us first.”

“They did us a favor. One less dirt bag on our side,” advised Agent Hanks, spitting into the pit. “Like it or not, we’re all in for the duration, and I’m fighting this war to the death.”

* * * * *

In traditional Legion manner, I hung Badger upside down for interrogation from a ceiling hook. He defiantly braced for the worst, swinging back and forth, fighting his restraints.
Too bad, so sad for Badger.

“Go ahead, waterboard me. I’m up for it. Give it your best shot!”

“Waterboard?” I scoffed. “We don’t do that anymore. Too messy. I wouldn’t want to violate your Constitutional rights. I’m going to stick you in the testicles with a hot poker.”

“Okay, I’ll talk! The drug lab belonged to the CIA. It was all Major Lopez’s idea!”

“I’m not surprised,” I accused, turning on Lopez. “Well?”

“It was a sting operation,” answered Lopez. “But there was a leak. Badger must have turned traitor. That explains the chip in his ass. I say we shoot him now.”