Peacekeepers (6 page)

* * * * *

I volunteered to help the new lieutenant out by delivering the duffle bag to mile post 15324 in person. However, I removed the money and filled it with explosives. At midnight, I made the drop and ran.

Scorpion insurgents emerged from the sand and rushed to the bag. As the first scorpion picked up the duffle, he was shot by a sniper from the spider side. More scorpions fell as incoming rounds raked the area from across the border. Legionnaires returned fire. Mountain Storm and his spider insurgents seized the duffle bag and fled north in jeeps toward their stronghold. I called in an air strike from the
T. Roosevelt
.

The lead jeep carrying the duffle exploded as I activated the remote-control detonator. Other jeeps were tossed aside like toys by the blast. Mountain Storm was seriously injured, with several broken limbs. They would grow back.

Killing Mountain Storm was so close. I had let slip over the radio information about the drop. Mountain Storm had been listening and took the bait, trying to steal the ransom from the scorpion insurgents. His greed almost got him killed. Next time I would get him.

At dawn, Hidden-Sting executed the ATM. He videoed the ghastly event, putting it on the database. Hidden-Sting used a small laser torch to slice the ATM up one excruciating piece at a time. Hooded scorpions danced atop the Legion ATM in celebration. General Daly, after viewing the spectacle, vowed revenge on Hidden-Sting and his cowardly band of terrorists.

* * * * *

Mountain Storm called Guido from a recovery bed. “Twice the Legion has tried to kill me this month!” he complained. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“You tried to bomb Walmart,” answered Guido. “And then you tried to steal a ransom drop. What were you thinking?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” explained Mountain Storm. “I was just trying to make some easy money and kill a few scorpions as a bonus. How was I to know there was a bomb in the duffle bag?”

“You know Captain Czerinski’s reputation,” said Guido. “He’d double-cross his own mother to make a few dollars. Next time, you need to check with me first. I am your only friend in the Legion. I am the only human pestilence you can trust. Understand?”

“You are right,” conceded Mountain Storm. “That Czerinski is a bloodthirsty piece of crap. No wonder they call him the Butcher of New Colorado. All this time I thought he just got bad press, like me. That is what he tells everyone. Czerinski is a killer. Next time I will trust your judgment, Guido, my friend.”

“Were you seriously hurt?” asked Guido. “How bad were you injured?”

“I lost a couple of legs and an arm segment. It is nothing that will not grow back, but the pain is awful. Can you get me something for it? Maybe some blue powder cocaine?”

“Morphine is all I can deliver on short notice,” advised Guido. “Have someone pick it up at my checkpoint shack.”

“You are a good friend, Guido,” said Mountain Storm. “I owe you.”

“You will draw less heat from the authorities if you sell me that nuke,” advised Guido. “I’ll give you a million dollars, already deposited in a secret New Memphis bank account. You won’t get a better offer than that. You need to wise up.”

“I will think about it,” promised Mountain Storm. “I am in this for the cause, not the money.”

“What cause?” asked Guido. “You have the whole Arthropodan Marine Corps defending this area. What do you need your puny militia for?”

“We cannot let the scorpions overrun us. The Empire abandoned us before,” argued Mountain Storm. “They might do it again. We will not be caught short again.”

“Just consider my offer. Nukes are bad for business.”

* * * * *

Guido called me with an update. I had hoped Mountain Storm would die from his injures, but no such luck. “When you deliver Mountain Storm’s morphine, give him a hot shot,” I ordered. “That will be the final chapter on Mountain Storm.”

Colonel Lopez called me, too. “Now that this ATM business is settled, what do you think of Lieutenant Perkins?” asked Colonel Lopez. “How did he do?”

“Perkins is an idiot,” I answered. “That was my impression, too,” commented Colonel Lopez. “Where did you find that fool?” “I think he is related to someone. You can keep Lieutenant Perkins. I am reassigning Perkins to Scorpion City. Good luck babysitting him. Try not to get Perkins killed or eaten on his first day. I’m serious. I think he’s related to someone.”

* * * * *

I assigned Second Lieutenant Perkins to be the XO of A-Company, commanded by First Lieutenant George Rambo Washington. I figured Lieutenant Washington, a combat seasoned veteran and the first spider recruited into the Legion, could give Perkins some valuable perspective that might help him survive. Lieutenant Perkins painted his helmet blue in preparation for meeting his new troops. He tried to sound relaxed and confident as he addressed his legionnaires. “I am Lieutenant Perkins, your new executive officer. I understand most of you are seasoned combat veterans. Earlier this week, I experienced my first combat with some of you at the Battle of Mile Post 15324. It was so dark and chaotic, I don’t even know if I killed anyone, but I now appreciate and identify with all of you about how terrifying combat can be. We lost our hostage and the ransom money, but had a positive body count, and no Legion casualties.

“Captain Czerinski suggested I get to know you in a social as well as professional setting. Therefore, tonight I will dine and have a beer at the Deadly Stinger Tavern. Feel free to come by and introduce yourselves. Captain Czerinski is flush with cash, and will pay for the first two drinks of any Legionnaire who shows up in uniform.”

A-Company erupted in applause. Sergeant Williams dismissed the troops.

“I think that went well,” commented Lieutenant Perkins. “What do you think? Are you going to join us there for a drink?”

“No,” said Lieutenant Washington. “The Deadly Stinger is a rough bar. I will pass. Besides, I am happily married, and my wives do not approve of carousing in bars.”

* * * * *

Lieutenant Perkins arrived at the Deadly Stinger Tavern early. He picked a table with a good view of the front door, hoping to recognize legionnaires as they arrived. He placed his blue helmet on the table. The scorpion owner/bartender greeted him cheerfully.

“Usually officers don’t come in here,” commented the bartender. “I thought the Legion frowned on fraternization with enlisted personnel.”

“Captain Czerinski suggested I immerse myself in the border culture of the Deadly Stinger,” replied Lieutenant Perkins. “I will start with dinner. I’ll order the special, and a beer.”

“Czerinski must not like you much,” said the bartender. “Try not to get drunk. You will need to keep a clear head. I know that sounds odd coming from a bartender who usually just wants to sell drinks, but I could lose my liquor license if you get killed tonight.”

The first legionnaires to arrive were Private Krueger and Corporal Camacho. Krueger, the shortest legionnaire in A-Company, was not shy about introducing himself. “Glad to meet you, sir!” said Private Krueger, drawing a concealed pistol. “I brought this for you. The Deadly Stinger can be a rough place, and I don’t want you to get killed on your first day as XO. Don’t worry, I have several more pistols on me, and a grenade.”

“We’ll be watching your back,” promised Corporal Camacho, as they lined up at the bar for their free drinks.

Master Sergeant Tyrone Green and Corporal Elena Ceausescu introduced themselves next. “Corporal Ceausescu is an experienced combat medic,” advised Sergeant Green. “I brought her along as a precaution, just in case anyone gets hurt.”

“I am glad to meet you sir,” said Corporal Ceausescu. “You are a fine looking officer. I sincerely hope the New Gobi Desert doesn’t kill you, like everyone seems to think it will. These border towns can be a bit hazardous to new legionnaires.”

“Sir, I brought you something,” whispered Sergeant Green, sliding a pistol across the table. “Just in case.”

“That’s alright sergeant,” replied Lieutenant Perkins, opening his vest. “I brought my own.”

“Good man!” exclaimed Sergeant Green, slapping Perkins on the back as he got up to leave. “You might just survive after all, no matter what everyone says.”

Green and Ceausescu sat at a nearby table. Corporals Tonelli and Wayne came in next. “Sir,” said Guido, “I want to let you know it is now illegal for New Memphis bookies to take wagers on how long new Legion officers will survive.” Guido gave Wayne a quick glance and added, “I have been refusing all such bets. Captain Czerinski does not tolerate that sort of thing.”

“You’re a bookie?” asked Lieutenant Perkins, but eying Corporal Wayne. “Corporal, you are only the second spider legionnaire I have met. I hope to meet more of you. I have always supported interspecies recruitment of aliens into the Legion, even scorpions.”

“You are an idiot,” responded Corporal Wayne, walking away. “I hope you get killed early, so no one else gets killed trying to save your sorry ass. Sir.”

“Uh, don’t mind him,” said Guido. “Corporal Wayne is actually quite personable. His apparent gruffness is just a cultural difference between humans and spiders.”

“I said he’s an idiot, and I meant it!” shouted Corporal Wayne, from the bar.

Several scorpion National Guardsmen noisily entered the tavern. A big drunk scorpion immediately focused on Lieutenant Perkins sitting alone at his table. “I heard you would be here,” said the scorpion guardsman. “But I did not believe any human officer could be so stupid, so I came down to see for myself! I heard Czerinski was buying free drinks to celebrate your arrival.” The scorpion tossed Lieutenant Perkins’ blue helmet aside and sat down.

“The free drinks are for legionnaires only,” advised Lieutenant Perkins.

“We are going to have a problem with that,” said the scorpion guardsman. “Refusing me a free drink makes me think you don’t like us scorpions much. That’s not very friendly. Maybe if I throw you out through the front window, it will teach you some manners.”

“Make my day,” said Lieutenant Perkins, as he pointed his pistol at the scorpion. The pistol shook in his hand from nervousness. “Do you feel lucky, punk? Well? Do you?”

“Sir!” said the scorpion guardsman, rising and snapping to attention and saluting. “I was just having a little fun. I meant no disrespect. I’m just a little drunk. It has been a pleasure meeting you, sir!”

The scorpion abruptly did an about face and fled to the bar where his comrades were laughing at him. Lieutenant Perkins gulped down his beer and ordered another to calm his nerves. Krueger and Camacho rushed belatedly to his table. “Sir, I didn’t know you had the
cojones
to face down scorpions like that,” said Private Krueger. “That was great! Sorry we didn’t get here quicker. It all happened so fast.”

“I learned that move in an old training film,” bragged Lieutenant Perkins. He chugged another beer. “Ever hear of Clint Eastwood?”

“No,” answered Private Krueger. “You don’t need our protection. The scorpions are the ones who need protection.”

“We still have your back,” insisted Corporal Camacho, as they staggered back to the bar. “Just chill, sir. Go with the flow of the Deadly Stinger.”

The tavern was beginning to fill up. Another scorpion approached Lieutenant Perkins and sat down. “May I buy you a drink, Lieutenant?” asked the scorpion. “I was very impressed with how you handled yourself. You were very macho.”

“That’s me,” replied Lieutenant Perkins, now feeling a buzz from the beers. “I am macho, macho man!” The scorpion slid closer to Perkins, caressing his leg with her claw. “Are you a Hero of the Legion?” “Excuse me,” said Lieutenant Perkins, removing the claw. “But you are getting very familiar. Are you a female?” “Yes,” answered the scorpion. A slight green mist filtered out from her mandibles. “Can you not tell?” “Actually, everything is suddenly a bit blurred,” said Lieutenant Perkins, backing away from the green mist. “What is that?” More drinks arrived. The female scorpion raised her stinger, wavering it inches from Perkins’ face. “Squeeze it,” she said. “Pardon me?” asked Lieutenant Perkins. “Do what?” “Do not be afraid,” she said. “Squeeze my telson. It is a scorpion drinking custom.” Lieutenant Perkins gently squeezed the meat of the scorpion’s stinger. She quivered in delight as a single drop of venom fell into his beer. Alarmed, Perkins pushed his glass away.

“Do not worry. It is not poisonous in such a small amount. That drop will enhance your drinking experience in so many ways. Drink up, sweetie.”

Lieutenant Perkins gulped his beer, half expecting to drop dead on the spot. Instead, he was overcome by erotic hallucinations, imagining an orgy of scorpions sweeping him away to another world. The pleasures of Heaven and terrors of Hell all met as the hallucinations increased. Later, Lieutenant Perkins would not remember much of what happened, but his date with a hot female scorpion was recorded for posterity by Deadly Sting Tavern surveillance security cameras, and posted on the database.