America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 4: Demilitarized Zone (6 page)

“No way,” argued Captain Lopez. “That won’t
be necessary. When word gets out, a land rush will happen. We want
that. By then we will already own the best land. General Kalipetsis
will have no choice but to sell water rights to the new
settlers.”

“What about the spiders?” I asked. “I am not
cutting that spider commander in on any deal.”

“The same thing will happen on their side of
the border once they tap the underground river,” said the
geologist. “There may be border disputes. We should survey the
border and make sure boundaries are clearly marked.”

“Can we buy land on the spider side?” I
asked.

“That would be a risky investment,” said the
geologist. “You might consult a spider lawyer on that. Being that
the spiders have nationalized human mining and oil operations in
the occupied North, I don’t think your investment would be
secure.”

“It might be if the Arthropodan Governor
ceded the New Gobi Desert to us,” I suggested. “Maybe we could work
out a land swap deal with them.”

“Don’t be greedy,” said Captain Lopez. “There
are riches enough for us all.”

* * * * *

The spider commander looked up at the
artillery and missile launchers on the hill next to that gaudy
human pestilence church.
It will be an easy target,
he
thought.
At night, the light from that church can be seen for a
hundred miles. They think their artillery will be safe hiding next
to a church? Or under it, in tunnels? Maybe I will just nuke the
whole hill.

The spider commander’s thoughts were
interrupted by the arrival of his engineers. He turned his
attention and anger to them. “Why has the human pestilence found
water, and all you can find is dust? They have found so much water,
they waste it on a public fountain next to that obscene statue at
the border crossing. The fools throw coins in the water. I saw it
with my own eight eyes.”

“I do not understand it,” said the engineer.
“The geology is the same on both sides of the border. The ground
out here is like cement, but the water table should be at the same
level on both sides of the border. Maybe they have tapped into an
isolated aquifer. Or maybe we are just having bad luck.”

“Get a human pestilence water witcher if you
have to,” said the spider commander. “I want water! If I do not get
water soon, you will learn the true and painful meaning of what it
means to have bad luck.”

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Chapter 7

The Angry Onion Tavern, like Walmart, was
divided by the Military Demarcation Line (MDL). Unlike Walmart, bar
patrons were allowed to cross the MDL and mingle. It just was not
practical to shoot drunks who staggered across the line. The spider
commander and I were both ordered to make the concept work. It was
hoped that the Hell’s Angels Corporation, having both human and
spider membership, could further dialogue between humanity and the
spiders. In other words, the eggheads had some sociological
theories they wanted to prove, and we were the experiment.

I pointed out to General Kalipetsis that
there were already plenty of well functioning organizations that
had both spider and human membership, such as the Foreign Legion,
various sheriffs’ offices, the Fraternal Order of Elks, and even
the Mafia. I argued that giving creditability and backing to the
Hell’s Angels, a possibly dangerous gang of drug dealers,
extortionists, and anarchists, might be a mistake. General
Kalipetsis said the Hell’s Angels concerts had positive results,
and that the decision had already been negotiated and made by the
President and the Emperor. Joint projects by humanity and the
spiders were to be given priority and encouragement, even if they
involved humans and spiders drinking themselves blind at a biker
bar on the MDL. “End of discussion.”

* * * * *

The first familiar face I saw at the Angry
Onion was Pastor Jim.
Great.
“What are you doing here?” I
asked.

“I’m trying to get laid,” slurred Pastor Jim,
eyeing some biker babes standing at the bar. “Want to be my
wingman?”

“I’ll pass,” I said, finding a table by the
wall so I could protect my back. Captain Lopez and Sergeant Green
soon joined me.

“Do you think there will be any fights?”
asked Sergeant Green, checking the room for the usual suspects.
“I’ll bet a month’s pay Privates Krueger and Wayne get into it with
someone tonight.”

“I know there is going to be at least one
fight tonight,” I said, as I downed my first whiskey. “Because I am
going to be in it.”

“You need to set a better example for your
men,” suggested Captain Lopez. “You should not be brawling like a
recruit.”

“As soon as that spider commander walks in,
I’m going to carve him up,” I promised. “That will be example
enough for my men.”

About that time, several Arthropodan marines
sat at the bar next to Private Krueger. The Angry Onion was thick
with spiders. A marine sized up Private Krueger and made a comment
about Krueger being too short to sit at the bar, and that he should
go home and suck milk with the hatchlings. Private Krueger knocked
the spider marine off his barstool with one punch. Other spider
marines jumped Private Krueger. Sergeant Green ran over to separate
the fighters and to save Krueger. Spider Hell’s Angels bouncers
spun Private Krueger and the spider marine into web cocoons and
hung them upside down from the ceiling.

When the spider commander finally arrived, I
chugged another drink and staggered in his direction. Captain Lopez
nodded to Sergeant Green, who nodded to Corporal Washington. They
grabbed me just before I got to the spider commander. I threw my
bottle. It missed the spider commander, but smashed off his table.
Bouncers hung me upside down from the ceiling, too. I spent the
evening cursing Lopez, and thrashing about next to Private
Krueger.

“It’s not so funny now, is it?” asked Krueger
as he swung back and forth, struggling with his restraints.
“Welcome to my world, sir.”

“This is insubordination,” I fumed,
struggling to reach a throwing knife I had concealed in my boot.
“I’ll have everyone involved shot when I get out of this damned
spider web!”

Private Wayne came over to gloat. The big
spider legionnaire was obviously drunk, bracing himself on a table
as he looked up. “How are you doing, sir?” he asked. “Can I get you
another whiskey?”

“You will be joining me up here before the
night is over, you insubordinate bug!” I shouted. “I will get the
last laugh!”

“No one here is big or bad enough to string
me up,” boasted Private Wayne, sizing up the crowd. “Fools have
tried, fools have died.”

Private Wayne contemplated the profoundness
of his vodka-induced poetry, obviously believing he should be
published. One of the Arthropodan marines bumped into Private
Wayne, causing Wayne to spill his drink. Ordinarily Private Wayne
would have been upset, but tonight he was in an exceptionally good
mood.

“Excuse me,” said the spider marine. “I did
not see you.”

“No harm done,” replied Private Wayne. “I’ll
get another drink. I will buy you one, too.”

“I am new here,” said the spider marine. “New
Gobi is an interesting place. I think I like it.”

“Yes it is,” said Private Wayne, amicably.
“It grows on you.”

“What do you think of that human pestilence
statue out front?” asked the spider marine.

“You mean Madam Liberty shaking her fist?”
asked Private Wayne. “The sculpture is magnificent.”

“I wonder,” said the spider marine, “what it
would look like to see a traitor like you hanging by your neck from
the top of that abomination? Scum like you even smell like your
human pestilence masters.”

Private Wayne immediately pulled a large
jagged combat knife from behind his belt and took a swipe at the
spider marine’s throat. The spider marine adroitly stepped back to
avoid the knife, and drew his own knives. Bouncers fired shotgun
nets at both spiders, and clubbed them into submission after they
fell to the floor. Both were strung up and hung upside down next to
me and Krueger. I laughed at Private Wayne the rest of the
night.

Towards the end of the evening, the spider
commander and his aides came over to gloat. By now about a dozen
disorderly spider marines and legionnaires were hanging from the
ceiling. Private Krueger vomited on the table below, scattering
legionnaires, and upsetting Captain Lopez.

“You are a disgrace,” said the spider
commander. “You set a poor example for your soldiers. No wonder
they are so poorly disciplined.”

“That’s what I told him,” said Captain Lopez,
too drunk to get up from his table, and still upset about
Krueger.

“If you are the best leadership the Legion
has to offer, defeating the human pestilence should be easy,” added
the spider commander. “I look forward to the day.”

“Screw you!” I yelled, thrashing about again
as I swayed back and forth.

The spider commander then threw his drink in
my face. The vodka stung my eyes, and I did not see what happened
next. Pastor Jim lunged forward, hitting the spider commander on
the head with a beer bottle. Bouncers immediately grabbed Pastor
Jim and strung him up. They grabbed the spider commander, too, but
he was bleeding so badly he had to be carted off to the hospital
for stitches and duct tape. For the rest of the night I had to
listen to Pastor Jim babble a sermon about the psychology and
technology of the mind, and God.
Next time just shoot
me.

At closing time, biker babes, human and
spider, chose from us hanging in cocoons. Pastor Jim was carried
off by two spider biker babes. The biker babes were all giddy and
laughing, but Pastor Jim was screaming and yelling for help. We did
not see Pastor Jim for a week. When he did finally show up, it was
at church services. He looked a little worn out, but was in good
spirits. Several of his biker babes were also in attendance,
sitting in the first row, singing Praise the Lord louder than
most.

Private Wayne was also carried off by biker
babes. He did not seem to mind, though. In fact, if I didn’t know
better, I’d say he already knew most of the biker babes.
How
could that be?
I looked over at Private Krueger. Private
Krueger was unconscious, but biker babes carried him off, too.

A particularly large spider biker babe eyed
me, and cut me down. Her exoskeleton was painted green and purple,
and she was very drunk.

“Can I buy you another drink?” I asked,
trying not to panic.

“Yes you may, you lovely hot human fur ball,”
she gushed. “One for the road. Then I am carrying you to my place.
I am a traditional old-fashioned female.”

“Cut my hand free,” I suggested. “I have
money in my boot for a six pack to go.”

“I do not think so,” said the biker babe,
checking my boot for the money, and finding my throwing knife.
“Look at what I found. You like to play with knives! Me too,
love!”

Sex with an alien species can be a
horrifying, traumatic event. What that spider female did and
threatened to do with her fangs and mandibles was terrifying. The
upside was that I was so drunk, I didn’t care, and even started to
get into it. I think she drugged me, too, saying it would enhance
my performance.
Bitch! They’re never satisfied.

When the sun came up, I woke and found myself
alone, naked, on the ground in front of my office. Passersby
stared, but dared not stop.
I guess maybe Captain Lopez was
right. I really should start setting a better example for my
legionnaires.

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Chapter 8

The spider commander ordered his engineers to
dig their tunnels deeper. The Legion turned the tunnel cave-in next
to Walmart into a tourist attraction. The spider commander wanted
his next tunnel to reach the human pestilence church up on the
hill. He could see the Legion engineers tunneling into the hill as
they built up their fortifications to conceal more rocket-launchers
and artillery.

The spider commander plotted to plant a
tactical nuke under that hill, but the Governor of the North
Territory denied his request for nukes. In the DMZ, only the Air
Wing had access to nukes.
Fine.
It did not matter if the
governor did not trust him, or still held a grudge. Conventional
explosives could easily destroy that hill and all the human
pestilence artillery on it.

The governor kept asking about his missing
military intelligence officer. The spider commander replied that
the military intelligence officer was still missing in action from
the Battle of New Gobi. The spider commander said he had
cadaver-sniffing monitor dragons searching the rubble looking for
him. What more could he do? If the military intelligence officer
got caught on the Legion side of the DMZ, he could only hope for
the best. Everyone knew how the human pestilence abused prisoners
of war. So far, the Legion denied having any prisoners in custody,
and had returned all bodies.

Thinking of the Legion reminded the spider
commander of the wound on his head. That human pestilence would pay
for that with his life. He looked in the mirror. The stitches were
healing nicely. Headquarters had denied the spider commander’s
request to declare the injuries as combat related. The medal of
valor would have looked good in his file. He was convinced the
governor did have it in for him. First, the governor exiled him to
this godforsaken place. Then, he denied him any chance for glory.
The spider commander fumed at the incompetence of the governor. The
human pestilence were getting a stronger foothold every day, and
all the governor did was send him a few worthless Air Wing
pilots.