America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 4: Demilitarized Zone (7 page)

Today the spider commander went to his newest
tunnel to inspect progress for himself.
A good commander gets
his hands dirty,
he told himself. This tunnel went deeper and
farther than the others to avoid Legion detection. The spider
commander gloated about being ahead of schedule. The engineers were
using the newest state-of-the-art tunnel boring equipment. The
spider commander talked to his chief engineer deep down in the
bowels of the tunnel. Most certainly they were across the MDL. As
they talked, water dripped onto the spider commander’s head.

“Is it possible we have finally discovered a
water source?” asked the spider commander. He reached up to the
ceiling and put a finger over the crack to plug the leak. Water
dripped out a couple of inches away. The spider commander plugged
that drip too. The crack spread, and more water dripped into his
face.

“Fix that,” ordered the spider commander,
giving up and walking on. “Water is too precious to waste.”

The chief engineer lagged behind, studying
the drip. He spit out some chewing gum and applied it to the crack.
The leak sealed. The chief engineer then followed the spider
commander back up to the surface. Once topside, they could hear a
deep rumble from below. Excited reports of a cave-in blared over
the engineer’s radio. Water burst through the tunnel entrance,
washing both spiders into a newly formed lake where a rock quarry
used to be. After they dragged themselves onto dry land, the
commander turned to the chief engineer and said, “Back on
Arthropoda we have plumbers that can fix this sort of thing.”

* * * * *

Word got out quickly that there was water and
fertile land in the New Gobi Desert. At least one million colonists
lined up in a semi-circle around the desert’s edge for a chance at
the unassigned lands. Each section of the New Gobi had been marked
by the USGF Geological Survey. All the markers were part of a vast
global positioning system. When a colonist touched his
identification card to any marker, his claim was automatically
recorded in a central computer.

It would be a race to the best claims.
Colonists lined up for a thousand miles, waiting for the signal
boom from the cannons. At precisely noon as planned, Legion
howitzers fired in unison. The ‘Boomers’ raced across the sagebrush
in dune buggies, trucks, cars, motorcycles, bikes, tractors, mobile
homes, ultra-light fliers, on horseback, and on foot. From a
distance, the spectacle looked like a New Gobi dust storm.
Legionnaires stationed in front of the crowds for supervision ran
for their lives to keep from being trampled.

Some canal survey work had already been
started. Colonists staked claims to these areas first. Of course,
Captain Lopez and I had already claimed many prime sites. The
Boomers pressed closer to the DMZ as available claim sites were
quickly snapped up. The colonists were told they could not enter
the DMZ. Flags marked prohibited areas. However, for many there was
no turning back. The choice land behind them was already claimed.
The promise of free land in the DMZ was too much to resist. Not
finding GPS markers, the Boomers piled rocks to post their claims
and mark boundaries. Still there was not enough land to satisfy
everyone. About one hundred thousand colonists crossed the MDL and
staked claims on the Arthropodan side. There were no border guards
to stop Boomers from entering the Arthropodan Empire. Warning signs
were ignored or knocked down. The first Arthropodan marine patrols
to arrive requested reinforcements and instructions. The spider
commander for New Gobi ordered the marines to defend the border and
to arrest and/or evict all trespassers.

* * * * *

David Miranda and his oldest son were
pounding fence posts on a hill overlooking their new ranch. Soon
cattle would be grazing on the shoulder-high grass. Prefab
buildings had gone up quickly, and his large family had already
settled in. The next major project was drilling the well. Mom, dad,
in-laws, sons, daughters, wife, cousins, brothers, and sisters all
had come with him for the free land. All that was needed was a
willingness to work.

Miranda could see a dust trail on the
horizon. It was getting closer. As an Arthropodan marine armored
car crested the adjacent hilltop, Miranda sent his son down the
hill to warn the others and to radio for help. Miranda glanced at
his assault rifle leaning against a fence post as the armored car
came to a stop twenty yards away.
Damn it,
he thought.
It
is too late to even think about grabbing the rifle now.

“You are trespassing seventy-five miles north
of the MDL,” announced a spider marine team leader. “You will leave
immediately or face arrest.”

“I am not going anywhere,” replied Miranda.
“This is our land.”

“This land belongs to the Emperor,” insisted
the spider team leader. “The Emperor orders you to leave.”

The team leader was about to say more, but
was interrupted by two low-flying Legion jet fighter bombers
responding to radio reports of spider marines confronting
colonists. The jets’ flyover was close enough so that the pilots
faces could be seen. They circled wide for another pass. Bolstered
by the Legion presence, Miranda felt confident he could stand up to
the spiders. “I am from Texas,” said Miranda. “And Texans do not
back down. We’re staying.”

The spider team leader uneasily eyed the jets
as they prepared for another low-level run. He radioed for Air Wing
support. The smaller human pestilence that had run off was now
returning up the hill with a third trespasser. Both human
pestilence carried rifles. The team leader pointed to them. The
machine gunner swiveled his turret from Miranda to the approaching
human pestilence. He fired a burst of warning shots to halt their
advance.

“No!” yelled Miranda, as he lunged for his
assault rifle. Miranda grabbed the rifle, rolled, and came up
firing on full automatic. The team leader was killed instantly.
Bullets pinged harmlessly off the armored turret. The turret gunner
swiveled back to Miranda and opened fire, cutting him in half. More
bullets hit the turret from down the hill. The machine gunner fired
at the two human pestilence approaching, killing them too.

Soon another armored car arrived. This one
had mounted cannon. The spiders fired cannon and machine gun rounds
at the buildings below. The Legion jets might still be circling,
but appeared to have dipped low over another homestead. Arthropodan
Air Wing fighter-bombers strafed the ranch and dropped napalm.
Human pestilence ran out of the burning buildings. The turret
gunner shot the humans as they scattered, to put them out of their
misery. The spider marines cautiously advanced to search the debris
and check for survivors. None were found. A spider marine noticed a
recently beaten-down path through the high grass. He followed to
investigate. Where the parted grass ended, the spider looked about,
seeing nothing. He squatted and watched stoically for movement.

Only inches behind the spider marine, a boy
lay hidden in the grass. The spider had almost stepped on him. The
spider could smell the boy, but could not locate him. Silently the
boy slipped off his belt and looped it around the spider’s neck.
The spider fell to the side as the boy tightened his grip,
squeezing the life out of the bug. The spider’s exoskeleton, quite
hard in places, offered little protection to the neck. The boy
easily snapped the neck. The head dislodged from the shoulders. The
boy carried it away into the high grass, a trophy of war.

The Legion jets could be heard coming closer.
A spider team leader yelled out orders to move out. The armored
cars raced off to the cover of another hill. They boy, now in
shock, went to sleep in the cover of the high grass, still
clutching the spider’s head.
“Aranas. Yo los mature
todo.”

* * * * *

When General Kalipetsis arrived in New Gobi,
he immediately requested a meeting with the local spider commander.
Tensions were high, and the President did not want another war.
General Kalipetsis was at the point that he felt we should just get
it over with and push the spiders from New Gobi while we still had
them outnumbered. But he had his orders, and the spiders had some
legitimate complaints. The spiders were objecting to the thousands
of trespassers that spilled over from the land rush. He chuckled.
Damn spiders have no sense of humor about trespassing.
Also
there were rumors and unconfirmed reports of a massacre north of
the DMZ. Satellite reconnaissance had yet to confirm that, but a
number of squatter shacks had been burned. Colonists were screaming
bloody hell about it.

The spider commander, his aides, Captain
Lopez, and I joined General Kalipetsis at the Walmart conference
room. General Kalipetsis snickered about the MDL running through
the conference table, and even through the ashtray. He adjusted the
ashtray, noticing it was trespassing ever so slightly. The spider
commander, trying not to show his sudden irritation, casually
flicked the end of his human-made tobacco cigarette into the
ashtray as he moved the ashtray back to its original position.

“Thousands of human pestilence have invaded
our territory while the Legion just looks on and does nothing,”
started the spider commander. “This provocation will not be
tolerated. Either you remove the squatters, or I will.”

“Don’t get your mandibles in a twist,” said
General Kalipetsis, calmly. “If a few colonists got lost and
strayed across the MDL, I am sure we can move them back. The Legion
will do it. Just don’t shoot anyone.”

“Your colonists have already attacked our
patrols,” said the spider commander. “I have brought helmet camera
video as proof of their aggression. I gave a copy to your military
intelligence officer, Captain Lopez.”

“I have yet to review it,” said Captain
Lopez, sliding the chip into a player. “Grab the popcorn, it’s show
time.”

They watched on screen as spider mechanized
units approached two human colonists setting fence posts on a hill
overlooking a small ranch. One of the colonists, a teenager, ran
off to warn the others. His father stayed and argued with the
spider marine team leader. As the boy returned armed with another
colonist, the father shot and killed the team leader. All three
colonists were then killed by the turret machine gunner. It was a
ghastly video to watch, but clearly the humans fired first. It was
unfortunate, but what could be done? General Kalipetsis, thinking
the video was over, started to say something conciliatory about the
death of the spider team leader. But, the video kept playing.
General Kalipetsis settled back into his chair, wondering
impatiently how long this was going to take. He checked his
watch.

The spiders checked the colonists to see if
they were dead. They shot the bodies a couple more times to make
sure. Then they waited for more armored cars to arrive. With cannon
and machine gun, the spiders fired on the ranch house and
outbuildings below. Air Wing fighter-bombers dropped incendiaries
on the colonists taking cover in the buildings. A burning colonist
ran out of the house and fell. A child ran past her and into a
field. The child fell as he was strafed by machine gun fire.
General Kalipetsis looked away. The film ended shortly afterward.
Captain Lopez removed his chip copy and left the room. He could be
heard outside, shouting orders to legionnaires.

“There were no survivors?” asked General
Kalipetsis.

“This unprovoked attack on our patrol
occurred seventy-five miles north of the MDL,” said the spider
commander. “You will do something about these squatters and
trespassers now.”

General Kalipetsis was numb with grief for
the murdered families. He focused on the small MDL drawn through
the ashtray on the conference table as his anger built up. Finally
he calmed himself and smiled at the spider commander. He drew his
pistol. The spider aides, already alerted to the volatility of the
human pestilence when confronted with irrefutable facts,
immediately drew their weapons, too. General Kalipetsis fired one
round at the glass ashtray, shattering it. A bullet hole was left
in the MDL painted across the conference table. Captain Lopez and a
squad of tense legionnaires burst into the conference room. It was
just luck no one started shooting.

“That was the most immature thing I have ever
seen a commander do,” commented the spider commander. “Have you
lost your mind? You should never have been put in a position of
such great responsibility. Do you realize the importance of what is
at stake here?”

“This conference is over,” declared General
Kalipetsis, rising to leave. “If any more colonists are murdered, I
will order your arrest for crimes against humanity. I am
immediately sending the Legion into the disputed border area to
protect all United States Galactic Federation citizens
present.”

“Disputed border area? Your invasion will not
be tolerated,” argued the spider commander, rising to his feet.
“Your actions are a violation of the peace treaty!”

“Up yours!” said General Kalipetsis, giving
the spider commander the one-fingered salute as he left. “Your
actions are murder.”

I whispered in the general’s ear, “We might
not have enough men and equipment in place to cover such a large
area.”

“The rest of the First Division will be here
soon,” advised General Kalipetsis. “I am promoting you to
Lieutenant Colonel. I like the way you get things done. Take all of
your legionnaires and establish a new protective MDL.”

“The New Gobi is huge,” I protested.
“Colonists are spread out across a thousand miles, and the spiders
are bringing in more marines and armor. How do you expect me to
protect the colonists?”

“Bring nukes with you,” said General
Kalipetsis. “We are not backing down. The DMZ is going to be moved
north.”