America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 4: Demilitarized Zone (5 page)

“You captured a helicopter crew,” I said,
changing the subject. “I want them repatriated immediately.”

“Not until you sign a written statement
admitting you ordered your legionnaires to trespass on sovereign
Arthropodan territory.” The spider commander slid the prepared
statement halfway across the table.

As I picked up the document, my pen slipped
from my hand. It rolled across the table, passing the MDL. As I
reached for the pen, everyone reached for their weapons. I
hesitated, letting the pen continue to roll. The spider commander
picked the pen up and politely handed it back to me.

“I am signing under protest,” I commented,
scribbling my signature and sliding the papers back across the MDL.
“If the helicopter crew has been abused, I will hold you personally
responsible.”

“The Empire does not mistreat defenseless
prisoners,’ stated the spider commander. “This is unlike what you
human pestilence have done countless times. Your atrocities are
well documented.”

“Anything else?” I asked. “I assume truck
traffic and commerce can resume in a week or so after the rubble
has been cleared from the streets? Oil and raw materials can come
through?”

“I want that fruit tree replaced,” demanded
the spider commander. “And I want a guarantee that any future tree
at the border crossing will not be molested.”

“I want my swimming pool fixed,” I demanded,
too.

“Where did you get the water to fill a
swimming pool?” asked the spider commander. “We have been drilling
for months, and have found nothing but dust.”

“Did you use a water witcher?” I asked. “It
is money well spent to have a dowser witch for water before
drilling.”

“I have heard you human pestilence use
dowsing sticks or rods to locate water, but it is not based on any
scientific empirical laws or forces of nature,” argued the spider
commander. “The movement of the stick is just ideomotor
action.”

“Whatever,” I said. “We found water, and you
didn’t.”

“Where can I find a water witcher?” asked the
spider commander.

“Look in the Yellow Pages for all I care,” I
said, ending the meeting. “And the wire fence inside Walmart stays
up!”

* * * * *

After the meeting, Captain Lopez and I took a
walk to inspect the damage. “That spider commander really pisses me
off,” I commented. “I almost got killed when he blasted my
office.”

“Do you want to know what really upsets me?”
asked Captain Lopez. “It came to me when we were digging you out of
the rubble.”

“Yeah?” I asked. “What upsets you? That I’m a
tough nut to kill?”

“Close,” said Captain Lopez. “You rose out of
that rubble like a phoenix. We have been through a lot together. We
have been shot, cut, burned, crushed, and captured. Age is
beginning to catch up with me. But you? You are not aging. I
dismissed the rumors at first. But it is true. You are not aging.
How is that so? Share your secret with me,
por favor.
”

“That’s nonsense,” I lied. “I’ve heard the
rumors, too. Just drop it.”

“I will not drop it,” insisted Captain Lopez.
“Although some people don’t think so, I know you can be killed. How
about I put that to the test?”

“Are you threatening me?” I asked. “If so, it
will be your last threat.”

“Is it so wrong to seek the Fountain of
Youth?” asked Captain Lopez. “I am a conquistador. I will always
seek the Fountain of Youth.”

“Whatever.”

“How many times have I saved your life?”
asked Captain Lopez. “Who more than me deserves to know your
secret?”

“The technology has either been hidden or
lost,” I confessed. “It might be held in a vault on Old Earth.
Maybe someday, if you are promoted to general or elected President,
they will share it with you.”

“That is not likely,” said Captain Lopez.
“How about I just seize the technology?”

“You and whose army?”

“Life is short. The best part of life is even
shorter. We will talk about this later. Mark my words. I will find
and seize this technology.”

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Chapter 6

Pastor Jim’s Church of Scientology was built
on a hill overlooking New Gobi. As ordered, I sat in the first pew.
I made sure other legionnaires shared my plight. I ordered Captain
Lopez to be present. His capacity as a city administrator and
leading citizen of New Gobi City required his presence. Pastor Jim
confidently addressed his new flock. “Welcome. I am glad to see so
many young faces here today. I am proud to be among the first wave
of galactic pioneers to settle New Colorado. There are no limits to
what we will achieve. There is no holding us back. We pioneers
realize we must live life to know life.

“Also, I am honored to see so many members of
the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion in attendance.
In the first pew I see Major Czerinski and Captain Lopez, both
highly decorated heroes of the Legion. Their exploits are known to
all across the galaxy. I also see Corporal Tonelli, who just got
out of the hospital. I am glad you are recovering nicely, Corporal.
Guido Tonelli, also a highly decorated war hero, once captured two
dozen insurgents single-handed during the Battle of New Disneyland.
I see the courageous Corporal George Rambo Washington, the first
spider to join the Foreign Legion. I am glad your two lovely wives,
Pam and Bam, could attend services, too. Welcome all!

“You might have noticed a self-propelled
howitzer and various missiles and launchers located next to our
church. Do not be alarmed. This being a strategic hill overlooking
New Gobi, I have consented to the placement of artillery on God’s
hill to assist the Legion in defending our community. Major
Czerinski has assured me that soon engineers will dig tunnels and
emplacements to make the artillery and missiles less
conspicuous.

“Some may think that consenting to have my
church exist side by side with such destructive weapons is
inconsistent with our message of peace and brotherhood. Some may
think that Major Czerinski would not have taken no for an answer
when he requested I share my hill.” Uneasy laughter filtered from
the audience. “However, I am proud to do my part to make New Gobi
safe, and to deter attack from across the border. This should come
as no surprise. The founder of the Church of Scientology, L. Ron
Hubbard, was himself a decorated United States naval officer
wounded in combat during World War II. So, certainly I am not above
doing my part to help. And if my church is destroyed in the next
war, the Legion and I will merely rebuild. But, not before coming
down from my hill like Moses and kicking that Arthropodan
commander’s ass!” Wild applause followed.

“This month we have seen great strides take
place in New Gobi, and I expect to participate in more. In addition
to this fine church, we have seen the construction of our first
grocery store, tavern, portable nuclear power stations, a public
school, bank, ATM, and traffic light. Soon we will even have our
own zip code. Together, united in the technology of the mind, we
will build a great community for our families here in New Gobi.

“I will cut short my sermon because I do not
want to scare new members off with my usual fire and brimstone. We
have organized a potluck, and there is a lot of good eating ahead
of us. I am told that Pam and Bam’s pudding goo is especially
tasty. I’ll try anything once. I expect to see all of you here next
week. But before we join the potluck, let us bow our heads in a
moment of respectful silence and prayer for those legionnaires who
gave their lives this week in defense of our country so that we may
remain free. May their spirits live on.”

* * * * *

The spider commander had a new fruit tree
planted at the border crossing. The fruit tree was an old
Arthropodan symbol representing the Empire’s steady growth and
strength. Guido made sure the tree was far enough back so that its
branches did not cross the DMZ demarcation line. Guido’s spider
guard buddy was back on duty at the Arthropodan border crossing
shack.

“I cannot believe it,” griped the spider
guard. “I take one day off, and you start a war!”

“We didn’t start it,” replied Guido. “But we
sure as hell won it.”

“In your human pestilence dreams,” scoffed
the spider guard. “Did you know about the grand opening of the
Angry Onion Tavern? I hear there will be live music and lots of
babes.”

“The Hell’s Angels Corporation owns it,” said
Guido. “It’s a biker bar. We are finally getting some culture here
in New Gobi. All we need now is a decent pizza parlor.”

“Are you going to the grand opening?” asked
the spider guard. “There is going to be a free salad bar.”

“Probably. I’ll be there if you spiders don’t
start another war between now and then. I think that commander of
yours is wound a bit too tight.”

“Most officers are,” said the spider guard,
noticing movement behind Guido. About two blocks on the human
pestilence side of the border, steam rose from the ground. It
brought traffic to a halt.

“What is that?” asked Guido. “A geyser? I
didn’t think we had geothermal activity under New Gobi.”

“You are right,” said the spider guard. “We
do not. Get into your bunker. That is one of our tunnels caving
in.”

Guido sounded the alarm. Infantry and armor
massed at the border again. This time wary troops held back on
shooting first and asking questions later. Several spider diggers
emerged from the tunnel with their claws up, and were taken
prisoner. In the interests of peace and not having my office bombed
again, I released them. But, they were only let go after their
commander signed a document stating his commandos were
intentionally trespassing on United States Galactic Federation
territory, and that the spider commander was a bad, nasty ogre who
climbed out from under a rock and regularly had sex with farm
animals. I slipped that last part into the fine print, and
prominently displayed the document on the wall of my office. It
quickly became a tourist attraction.

* * * * *

Our personal Cold War continued. The spider
commander built a Grand Victory Arch at the border crossing. The
Arch looked impressive from the Legion side, but it was merely a
hollow façade. Not to be outdone, I had a scaled-down version of
the Statue of Liberty built facing the spiders from the border
crossing. However, instead of holding a torch, Madam Liberty was
shaking her fist at the spiders. My first inclination was for her
to be giving the one-fingered salute, but Captain Lopez talked me
out of that. He said it would be in bad taste. I’m sure he was
right. The statue was impressive enough to be a tourist attraction.
It rivaled the Cold War Walmart as both a tourist attraction and
photo stop.

* * * * *

I met with Legion engineers and
geologists.

“We are still getting technology-driven
seismic activity,” explained the engineer. “At first we thought it
was more spider tunneling because it was on our side of the border.
But now I think the spiders are angling their well drilling
equipment under the border in hopes of tapping into an aquifer on
our side of the DMZ.”

“Can we stop or intercept their drills?” I
asked. “I do not want the spiders stealing from our water
source.”

“That would be impossible,” said the
engineer. “The only way to stop their drills is to attack their
equipment on the surface.”

“That can be arranged.”

“I have some more interesting news,” said one
of the geologists. “The source of our water is an underground
river. It runs for hundreds of miles.”

“Is that why there is no water on their side
of the border?” I asked.

“Most certainly the river crosses the border
at some point,” explained the geologist. “The spiders just have not
yet found where it turns north.”

“How much water is down there?” I asked.
“Enough for a large city?”

“That is the exciting part,” said the
geologist. “The underground river may be as large as the New
Mississippi River. There is enough water down there to irrigate the
entire New Gobi Desert.”

“Is that something we want to do?” I
asked.

“I thought that was why we are here,” said
the geologist. “There is no gold or oil in the New Gobi. But the
New Gobi’s year round growing season makes it invaluable if you
have a dependable source of water. As an area for growing food
crops and raising livestock, the New Gobi could be turned into a
paradise that rivals Old Earth California. Its potential is
unlimited.”

“Should we be buying real estate?” asked
Captain Lopez. “Do you think we could grow oranges and raise
cattle?”

“I don’t see why not,” answered the
geologist. “Add water to the mix, and the New Gobi would be perfect
for that.”

“My hacienda will grow oranges for as far as
the eye can see,” said Captain Lopez. “I will be the Marquis of the
Valley. We need to keep this a secret just among us until we can
buy our land. If this information gets out, the price of land will
skyrocket.”

“Who owns the New Gobi Desert?” I asked.

“The United States Galactic Federation owns
all public land on our half of New Colorado,” replied the
geologist. “Anyone can file a claim for free land if they have a
plan to develop it. However, water rights are held in trust for the
public good and regulated by the Office of the Governor.”

“
Dios maldita sea,”
fumed Captain
Lopez. “There is always a catch to prevent my prosperity.”

“The Office of the Governor is General
Kalipetsis,” I said. “We will have to bring him in on any land
speculation. He can seal the deal on water rights.”