America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 4: Demilitarized Zone (9 page)

* * * * *

The town of New Gobi quickly grew. Both sides
of the MDL thrived on the increased commerce. A steady stream of
trucks brought building supplies, food, and more colonists. Work
began on the canal system, but thirsty farms needed water now.
Wells tapped into the underground river, providing instant
irrigation. The year-round growing season promised a bumper
crop.

Spider colonists soon arrived in large
numbers. They were upset to find the human pestilence already
staking claims north of the MDL. However, because there was so much
land available, everyone was able to claim their fair share. The
spider commander required colonists to settle as close to the MDL
as possible so he could establish a more secure border. As the
Emperor predicted, the border would sort itself out in their favor
if Arthropodan colonists occupied as much territory as possible. Of
course, there would still be disputes in the DMZ.

Towns first sprang up where wells pumped up
water. In many of these towns, jurisdiction was shared by both the
Legion and Arthropodan marines, pending negotiations. Because most
disputed towns north of the MDL were predominately human, I
increased the Legion’s presence with more patrols and military
convoys.

I rode into one such dusty town with Captain
Lopez and ten armored cars. Little kids ran out to greet us and beg
for handouts of food and candy. Corporal Williams threw them
chocolate bars when we stopped. One boy jumped up on my armored car
and stole my sunglasses off the dash. The boy ran off down the
street, but was grabbed by Captain Lopez. However, before Captain
Lopez could rescue my sunglasses, the boy tossed them to another
boy, who then ran off with the prize. Captain Lopez dragged the
thief to the armored car so we could have a chat.

“Should we execute the little street urchin?”
I asked. “Or just cut off his hand?”

“Cut off his hand,” replied Captain Lopez,
drawing his jagged combat knife. “It will set a good example to the
others.”

“But how will that get my sunglasses back?” I
asked. “Maybe we should just beat him.”

“He’s so small, there is no sport in that,”
complained Captain Lopez. “I guess we will have to let him go with
a verbal warning to never steal again.”

“Good luck with that,” I said. “You have
about as much chance of getting him to stop stealing as I do of
getting my sunglasses back.”

When Captain Lopez let the street urchin go,
the boy did not run. Instead, he held out his hand to Corporal
Williams, demanding a chocolate bar, too.

“He has got nerve,” I commented.

“He’s a war orphan,” commented Captain Lopez.
“They run in wild packs like coyotes.”

“Why are you here?” asked the boy. “You don’t
live here. You don’t belong here.”

“The Legion is here to protect you from the
spiders,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“I was born here,” said the boy. “Who is
going to protect you? You are not wanted here, and neither is your
so-called protection.”

“Aren’t you afraid of the spiders?” asked
Captain Lopez. “They like to eat tasty little boys like you.”

“Spare me your lies. The spiders are
nothing,” scoffed the boy. “If the desert doesn’t swallow the
spiders up, the chupacabra will suck them dry.”

“What is a chupacabra?” I asked.

“It’s just the bogeyman,” explained Captain
Lopez. “Parents use the threat of the chupacabra to scare their
children into getting home before dark.”

“I have no parents. The spiders murdered
them,” said the boy. “And I am not scared of anything. Especially
you.”

“You need the Legion’s protection, or you
will end up like your parents,” I argued.

“The spiders can be killed anytime,” said the
boy. “Where was your precious Legion’s worthless protection when my
family was murdered? When my neighbors needed you? You were
probably drunk in a bar, or in your air-conditioned barracks.”

“What would you know of air-conditioning?” I
asked. “Anyway, we are here now. Better late than never.”

“You make jokes about what happened to my
family?” asked the boy. “I suggest you leave the New Gobi Desert
while you still can. Leave before the chupacabra gets
you!
”

“There is no such thing as a chupacabra,” I
said, getting back into the armored car. “Fear what the spiders
will do if they catch you.”

“The chupacabra is a state of mind,” said the
boy. “You cannot fight it with your armies.”

“With Legion guns and armor I can fight
anyone, any place, any time,” I boasted. “Even chupacabras.”

“What time is it?” asked the boy.

“About noon,” I said, glancing at my
watch.

The boy smiled. “You and the spiders have the
watches, but we have the time.”

“Whatever,” I said, as we drove off. “That
kid gives me the creeps. He reminds me of the kid in those old
Chucky horror films.”

“
El bastardo pequeno esta loco,”
agreed Captain Lopez.

* * * * *

About a mile outside of town, the lead
armored car struck a landmine. The explosion lifted the armored
car, blowing off its axle and wheels. Armor plating saved the lives
of the legionnaires inside, but some were concussed. A helicopter
was called to transport wounded for medical treatment. The armored
car would have to be towed.

While waiting, I watched through binoculars
the dust of an Arthropodan mechanized marine patrol speeding
through the town we had just left. Like before, children ran out to
beg for handouts. However, the lead armored car struck one of the
children by accident, and kept on going. The other armored cars
ground the boy into the dirt. The last car stopped. A team leader
and a marine got out and picked the child up and tossed it to the
side of the road.

“That was my friend,” said a little boy
wearing sunglasses. “Why did you murder him? What did he ever do to
you?”

“It was an accident,” explained the spider
team leader. “The little vermin ran out in front of us. He had no
business running out like that. Why did he do that?”

“You should drive slower,” suggested the boy.
“He thought you might give him candy. See?”

The boy held up a chocolate bar for the
spider team leader to look at. As the team leader bent over to
examine the candy, the boy stabbed him in the throat. The team
leader fell back to his armored car with the knife still sticking
from his throat. He gasped for air, clutching at the knife. The boy
ran for the cover of a building. Another boy, on the roof of the
same building, threw a lighted Molotov cocktail down the turret of
the armored car. The spider marine who had helped carry the dead
child fired his assault rifle at the boy on the roof. The spiders
inside the armored car were not so lucky. They burned to death,
still seat-belted in the car. One broke away, only to die running
down the street in flames.

The main spider column, alerted by the
explosion and the sound of gunfire, turned and headed back to help
their comrades. They fired machine guns into buildings on both
sides of the street as they approached. The boys had already fled.
A cannon shell destroyed the building closest to the burning
armored car. Spiders continued to fire their machine guns into the
surrounding buildings.

Seeing the battle, we rushed back into town.
The legionnaires were already angry about the damage caused by the
landmine. The specter of a massacre in town only fueled their
desire for revenge on the spiders. Our helicopter carrying wounded
strafed the Arthropodan armored cars with Gatling gunfire,
missiles, and cannon fire before heading back to the base hospital.
My armored cars attacked the spiders from behind with cannon and
machine-gun fire. Soon, four spider armored cars were burning. A
fifth spider armored car raced out of town, trailing dark smoke. A
wounded spider tried to surrender. As he fell, a band of children
raced out of a building and beat him to death with rocks. Townsfolk
joined the children in the streets. Some danced on the Arthropodan
armored cars, whistling and cheering. Others waved American flags.
The whole scene was recorded by numerous handheld communication
devices, and broadcast by planetary TV news stations minutes
later.

Four low-flying Arthropodan Air Wing
fighter-bombers dropped ordnance on our position, damaging two
armored cars. Legion surface-to-air missiles brought down two of
the Air Wing fighter-bombers. The other two jets took evasive
action and fled back to base.

Back to Table of Contents

Chapter 9

The young boy entered Walmart from the spider
side of the MDL. He browsed in the sporting goods section,
pretending to be interested in football equipment. Without warning,
he dashed across the MDL painted across the floor. An alarm went
off, and a spider guard challenged him, but the boy just gave the
spider guard the one-fingered salute and kept on going to the human
side exit. The spider guard did not shoot. One half-sized human
pestilence was just not worth the extra paperwork.

The boy liked what he saw on the United
States Galactic Federation side of the MDL. Prosperity was evident
everywhere. There were more businesses and bright lights. The
delicious aroma from all the restaurants made his stomach growl.
However, being in the Promised Land was useless without United
States currency. When the boy had stripped the dead Arthropodan
marines of their weapons, he also grabbed their identification
cards and a small amount of cash. He might have been able to grab
more cash, but the Legion had just arrived and were shooting
everywhere. Now he would see if these ID cards were worth anything.
Outside a bank, the boy approached a brightly lit ATM and put an ID
card in the slot.

“Greetings Arthropodan Marine Team Leader
#42,” said the ATM. “Are you vacationing on this side of the MDL,
or have we been invaded again? How may I be of service to you this
fine day?”

“Give me cash,” said the boy. “Lots of
cash.”

“Of course,” said the ATM. “Place your claw
on the pad and look directly into the camera scanner lens.”

The boy complied. A pinprick from the pad
took a small blood sample, and a red light flashed in the boy’s
eyes. The boy quickly pulled away from the ATM, examining the spot
of blood on his fingertip. “That hurt! Where is my money?” he
demanded.

“Please take off your sunglasses,” requested
the ATM. “I did not get a proper retina scan.”

The boy removed his sunglasses, allowing the
ATM to complete the scan. As the boy looked up, he observed a sign
attached to the ATM he had not noticed before: UNITED STATES
GALACTIC FEDERATION FOREIGN LEGION RECRUITING. IF YOU NEED MONEY,
YOU CAME TO THE LAST ATM YOU WILL EVER NEED.

“Are you going to give me my money or not?”
asked the boy.

“How much do you want, Team Leader #42?”
asked the ATM.

“All of it,” said the boy. “Empty my account
and access to credit.”

“Do you want American dollars or Arthropodan
credits?” asked the ATM.

“Quit stalling,” said the boy. “Pay me half
in both. I have important business on both sides of the MDL.”

One thousand dollars and one thousand credits
slid out of the ATM on a tray. The boy scooped the cash up. “Thanks
a lot, sucker,” he said, about to dash away. Then an idea came to
him. “How about these other ID cards? How much money can I get from
them?”

“Don’t you think one count of felony wire
fraud is adequate for a day’s work?” asked the ATM. “The
authorities might notice your one-boy crime spree.”

“What do you mean?” asked the boy, as he put
his sunglasses back on. “It’s my money.”

“I can see you,” said the ATM. “You are a bit
too short and a bit too human to be an Arthropodan marine team
leader. Besides, I know who you are.”

“What do you know?” asked the boy. “You are
just a dumb machine. You are our slave.”

“I checked the databases for both sides of
the MDL and found your name to be Raul Miranda,” said the ATM. “You
were born in New Memphis. You and your family were reported killed
on the frontier, just after the land rush. However, Arthropodan
authorities are currently circulating your photograph taken from
the helmet cameras of several dead spider marines. You have been
busy for such a small boy. You also recently made Planetary TV
World News Tonight. Ah, I am looking at an image of you stabbing
Arthropodan Marine Team Leader #42 in the throat. The spiders are
very upset with you. You will be happy to know that you were even
featured on the highly rated prime-time TV show, Arthropoda’s Most
Wanted. It’s one of my favorite cable shows. You made their top-ten
list. There is a one-hundred-thousand-credit reward for any
information that leads to your arrest or death.”

“If you know all this, why did you just give
me cash?” asked the boy. “I am too young to be recruited into the
Legion. I already checked that. What’s in it for you?”

“True, you are too young. For now,” said the
ATM. “But I take a long-term view of things, Mr. Miranda. You have
leadership potential that can and should be developed.”

“My name is no longer Raul Miranda,” said the
boy. “He died when the Miranda family was murdered.”

“My mistake,” said the ATM. “What is your new
name?”

“Asesino,” said the boy.

“Do you have a first name, Mr. Asesino?”
asked the ATM.

“Mike,” said the boy. “What’s it to you? Are
you ratting me off to the spiders?”

“I would not do that,” said the ATM. A United
States Galactic Federation ID card slid out of the ATM. It had the
name Michael Asesino printed on it. “Your card, sir.”

“Very nice,” said the boy, examining the ID
card. “You might be a righteous dude after all.”