Demilitarized Zone Part 9

The banquet was a grand affair. The convention center at the New Gobi Plaza Hotel accommodated the overflow formal-attire crowd. Spider dignitaries flew in on short notice from all over New Colorado to see and meet Amba.s.sador Williams. Intently watching the negotiations on cable TV, the spider public believed they were witnessing a historic moment for the Empire, New Colorado, and the galaxy.

In honor of their human pestilence guests, dinner was lavishly catered locally by McDonald's Restaurant. Vodka and whiskey were provided by the spider commander. Polite conversation followed dinner. After the spider commander gave an eloquent introduction, Amba.s.sador Williams got up to read his speech. Private Wayne had written most of it, and Williams planned to add commentary. They hoped to dazzle the spiders long enough to get through the evening and escape. TV cameras and substantial press coverage recorded what most hoped would be history in the making.

"My fellow Americans," read Corporal Williams from a prepared text. He frowned at the audience and added, "And my fellow spiders. It is our job as leaders to do what is right, no matter what the consequences. The will of G.o.d eventually prevails, so we had better do our d.a.m.ned best to do right, or else in the end we will be rightfully struck down by the hand of G.o.d. It don't pay to be on the wrong side of G.o.d. I had a cousin in Tennessee who was struck by lightning three times, and let me tell you, he was a sinner.

"Anyway," continued Corporal Williams, realizing he had got off track, "as leaders, we need to strive to control events for the public good, rather than merely letting events control us. I believe G.o.d intends humanity and spiders to join together to forge a New Galactic World Order. Why else had G.o.d seen fit to put us both on the same miserable planet? Nowhere else in the galaxy do two sentient species share a planet.

"Have there been great conflicts and hardship between us? Yes, you know that is true. But hardship and struggle make us stronger. Our shared struggles and hardship bond us together into one common history and, eventually, one common culture. The melting pot that is New Colorado will prevail. We are not perfect, but we are called to a perfect mission. If I am killed today, do not let my death stop this sacred effort. Let every drop of my blood spilled nurture the bond shared between our two great cultures.

"The work we started today still needs to be finished. Our goal of a just and long-lasting peace among ourselves and among all nations is within our grasp. Seize it!"

I watched Williams' speech on TV, as did General Kalipetsis, Congress, and most of the known galaxy. I thought is was a great speech. I did not know Williams had it in him. However, the intent and meaning of the speech was lost in translation for the spiders. The spiders watching thought Williams was inviting the Arthropodan Empire to surrender to human pestilence domination. The mere mention of a New World Order set off the conspiracy theorists and caused rioting in the streets. There was no applause when Williams concluded his speech. Instead, Amba.s.sador Williams and his bodyguards were escorted to the MDL, and unceremoniously shoved across the border.

General Kalipetsis made a special trip to New Gobi for a secret award ceremony and debriefing of the returned legionnaires. Corporal Tonelli, Corporal Williams, Private Wayne, and Private Camacho were awarded the Military Governor's Citation of Merit. Williams was promoted to Sergeant. General Kalipetsis personally pinned on Williams' new stripes.

"I hope you all understand that public acknowledgement of your exploits and top-secret mission would jeopardize ongoing peace treaty negotiations," said General Kalipetsis. "Most of you are already highly decorated combat veterans. I only hope this small token of my appreciation of your valor compensates you somewhat."

"Thank you, sir," said Sergeant Williams. "Sergeant is the highest rank ever for a Williams, although I claim Sergeant York of Pall Mall, Tennessee, as kin too."

"Sergeant York?" asked General Kalipetsis.

"Alvin York," said Sergeant Williams, proudly. "Alvin was the most decorated United States soldier during World War I. He married Gracie Williams, my great, great, great, great aunt."

"I see," said General Kalipetsis. "I am glad to hear you are carrying on your family's fine tradition of service to your country."

"Yes, sir," said Sergeant Williams. "Between the preachers and the soldiers in my family, we have all the bases covered. I'm sure lots of us got into Heaven, and hopefully still more will, too."

General Kalipetsis departed as abruptly as he entered, leaving me to address the men. "You all have a week off for leave," I said. "Don't get into any more trouble. Dismissed!"

Because of Sergeant Williams' newfound notoriety caused by his intergalactic speech, the Legion had to hide him from the press. On my recommendation, Sergeant Williams was transferred to a weather station at the South Pole.

Chapter 12.

A confident young female legionnaire entered my office and saluted. "Sir, my name is Lieutenant Priscilla Percy. I am a Legion mental health professional sent by General Kalipetsis to talk to you."

"I don't need a shrink," I replied. "I'm fine most of the time."

"General Kalipetsis thinks that the stress of command may have caught up with you," advised Lieutenant Percy. "How do you handle stress?"

"Usually I just sit in the dark, grinding my teeth and rocking back and forth," I said. "Sometimes I chant all night, watching p.o.r.n."

"Your crude and irreverent comments do not faze me in the least," said Lieutenant Percy. "I am told you drink to excess and have an anger management problem. Is that true?"

"Probably," I answered. "But that doesn't mean I am crazy. I like to drink and unwind at the Angry Onion Tavern. Did you know I am part-owner of a new tavern called the Blind Tiger? The grand opening will be any day now. You're invited. You can join me for a drink and observe first-hand whether I have a drinking problem or am crazy."

"No one thinks you are crazy," a.s.sured Lieutenant Percy. "The first step toward confronting a problem is to admit you have a problem. Being that you have already acknowledged your drinking problem, I think we are already making excellent progress."

"I also gamble too much," I added. "So what? Did you know that besides owning a bar, I am a millionaire?"

"These bad habits are just symptoms of stress," said Lieutenant Percy. "You need to find other ways to channel your tension."

"I am trying," I said. "But you keep turning me down. I don't want to go blind."

"Do you have any hobbies?" asked Lieutenant Percy. "Something like tennis?"

"This is not a fancy country club," I said. "This is the DMZ, and I am in the Foreign Legion. I'm happy just staying alive for another day."

"These are relatively peaceful times. You have more than enough time to find a hobby or something constructive to do with your off-duty time. Have you ever considered golf? It is very relaxing."

"Whatever."

"Do you go to church?" asked Lieutenant Percy.

"I used to," I answered. "But the spiders blew it up. Tough luck. Pastor Jim is rebuilding."

"Does your faith help you to deal with the pressures of command?"

"Not likely. I would rather sleep on Sundays, especially when I'm hung-over."

"Are you in a relationship?" asked Lieutenant Percy, continuing to jot down notes. "Is there anyone special in your life?"

"I thought you were here to talk about stress," I said, shifting uncomfortably in my chair.

"How is your s.e.x life?" asked Lieutenant Percy.

"I am currently between relationships," I said. "Are you interested in helping me in that regard, Priscilla?"

"I am not just being nosey," said Lieutenant Percy. "There are clinical reasons for my questions. When is the last time you had s.e.x?"

"That is none of your business," I said. "You can go tell General Kalipetsis that I do not appreciate this prying into my private life."

"s.e.xual issues may be contributing to your stress and overall unhealthy mental state," commented Lieutenant Percy. "General Kalipetsis a.s.sured me you are one of his best commanders and would cooperate fully in your rehabilitation. Do I need to call General Kalipetsis and tell him you are resisting therapy?"

"No, Lieutenant Percy," I said. "That will not be necessary. We can resolve these matters before you leave."

"Good," said Lieutenant Percy, making a note. "You admit you are under a great deal of stress. I can help you manage that stress. Together we will confront the sources of your destructive behavior and treat the symptoms."

"You are writing things down to put into my personnel file?" I asked. "If so, I refuse to say anything more."

"Nothing said here will go into your personnel file," a.s.sured Lieutenant Percy. "This is just between you and me. Notes help me organize my thoughts. I am only here to help."

"I still don't believe in shrinks," I said. "I don't see how you can solve anything with a one-day visit."

"Maybe and maybe not," said Lieutenant Percy. "All we are going to do today is discuss some of the troubling issues in your life. Sometimes merely talking about something can help to identify the source of a problem. When is the last time you had s.e.x?"

"With a human?" I asked. "Why do you keep asking that question?"

"Of course with a human," said Lieutenant Percy. "What else is there? You do not strike me as the type who cavorts with farm animals."

"What?" I asked, startled. "What are you writing? I do not mess around with farm animals!"

"Oh my G.o.d!" said Lieutenant Percy, upset by a revelation. "You have s.e.x with spiders?"

"Not voluntarily," I replied. "It's complicated."

"That is disgusting!" said Lieutenant Percy. "How many times have you engaged in this b.e.s.t.i.a.lity?"

"They are a sentient species," I insisted. "Not beasts."

"How many times!" demanded Lieutenant Percy.

"I can't remember," I replied. "We are on the frontier. There is a shortage of human females. And, you're not helping to solve the problem."

"That is not a viable excuse, you degenerate," said Lieutenant Percy. "You should be ashamed of yourself and stripped of command. What kind of example does your ill-advised conduct set for your men? Your legionnaires look to you for guidance. You are a father figure to them."

"I know," I said, my shoulders slumping. "I am bad. You should spank me."

"You are more than bad," said Lieutenant Percy. "You are evil! This will go into your file!"

"Oh come on," I argued. "You promised nothing would go into my file. It's just the stress of command on a far-flung dusty planet. I'll promise to find a hobby, even play golf if you want me to."

"You cannot blame your debauchery on the stress of command," said Lieutenant Percy. "Your deep-seated, debased, twisted behavior is probably a reflection of how you were raised. Were your parents perverts, too? You are so disgusting!"

"My parents were both elected to public office," I replied.

"Politicians?" asked Lieutenant Percy. "No wonder."

Lieutenant Percy ended the session by walking out and slamming the door. I called my chief engineer officer and ordered him to immediately build a golf course. Then, I dragged myself down to the Angry Onion Tavern and knocked the first h.e.l.l's Angel I saw off his bar stool. The bouncers beat me with clubs and strung me up in a coc.o.o.n and hung me upside-down from the ceiling.

The spider commander and his new military intelligence officer looked out across the MDL at the latest Legion construction project. Bulldozers were plowing the desert. Trucks were hauling in fertilizer and sod.

"What is this madness?" asked the spider commander. "Are the human pestilence building another park?"

"It is a golf course," said the military intelligence officer. "Golf is a recreational sport involving hitting a small ball from one distant hole to another. It is a bit similar to lawn croquet, only on a much grander scale."

"They would do better to use indigenous landscaping," commented the spider commander. "Those extensive greens waste precious water. Why would the Legion build a golf course here? What trick are they up to?"

"Golf is a favorite game of the business elite," explained the military intelligence officer, checking the database. "If you have a five-star hotel, you need a golf course to go with it."

"We have a five-star hotel," said the spider commander. "Why don't we have a golf course? How many golf courses have been built in the DMZ?"

"This will be the first," said the military intelligence officer. "But there are many golf courses in the human pestilence southern area."

"The first!" said the spider commander. "That's it! Czerinski wants to be the first to have a golf course in the DMZ! Instruct my engineers to build a golf course immediately. And, I want my golf course to be bigger and better than the human pestilence golf course. Most important, I want my golf course completed before Czerinski's golf course!"

"The human pestilence have a head start on construction," said the military intelligence officer. "I am not sure we can get our golf course built first."

"I will take care of that," promised the spider commander. "You just get our engineers to work! I want no excuses."

The point spider scout gripped his a.s.sault rifle as he cautiously pushed through the sagebrush, leading his commando team. Sage-colored camouflage netting made the commando almost invisible when motionless. Cautious of b.o.o.by-traps and landmines, the point spider stopped to listen. Night vision technology allowed him to see legionnaire guards patrolling the MDL fence. A legionnaire in the distance walked a monitor dragon. Fortunately the commandos were downwind from the dragon. A traitorous spider legionnaire walked with the dragon handler. The traitor suddenly stopped, looking directly at the commando team. A flare went off in the sky, lighting the desert below.

The spider scout closed his eyes so as not to lose his night vision. He stayed perfectly still, and could remain so for hours, even days. Spider scouts were specially recruited for their patience and stealth capabilities. They made excellent snipers and sappers. The commando team remained motionless until the flare died out. The legionnaires continued their patrol. The point spider cut a hole in the MDL fence and led the team through to their target.

At the golf course, they expertly placed explosive charges on heavy equipment and on outbuildings. The clubhouse was wired with a nasty delayed fuse that would kill first responders. Even the sand traps and greens were targeted.

The point spider quickly retraced their route back to the MDL fence. A branch snapped somewhere in the darkness. As the point spider held up a claw to signal the team to stop, a shot rang out, hitting the commando in his chest. Grenades exploded, sending blinding flashes and shrapnel into the night sky in all directions. A Legion monitor dragon shrieked as an aerial flare went off.

A team leader grabbed the wounded point spider and carried him through the opening in the fence. They sprinted for cover. At an outcropping of rocks, waiting medics met the wounded. A machine-gun team fired back at the legionnaires. The 'thunk' of a grenade launcher was followed by an explosion that knocked the team leader down. Shrapnel cut into his shoulders. He turned, facing the legionnaire positions, using his body to shield the retreating medics and wounded. The muzzle flash from this a.s.sault rifle drew more fire. A bullet grazed his face. Another took his leg. The team leader staggered back as explosions at the golf course lit up the horizon. Even the clubhouse exploded and caught fire. The shooting stopped. Mission accomplished. Mission accomplished.

Attacking a golf course made no sense. The team leader swore that whoever planned this mission would pay. Cannon fodder is what some officer thought of his commandos. There would be a day of reckoning for that officer.

I entered the floatation center, hoping for much needed relief from my stress. After the spiders blew up the golf course, I lost interest in putting on the greens. Golf wasn't going to help, anyway. Pastor Jim told me about the floatation center. He said there is no better method of letting the stress of the week dissolve into a distant memory than to float for an hour in saline serenity. Floatation tanks filled with ten inches of water and seven-hundred-fifty pounds of Epsom salts made it impossible to sink. I floated blissfully.

The attendant left me alone to float my cares away. Hawaiian music eased me into a 'theta' state, the point between sleep and waking, I was told. The effect was almost instantaneous. I was advised such relaxation lowered blood pressure, eased joint pain, sped muscle recovery, and relieved stress and anxiety. Floatation did all the functions my implanted chips were supposed to be doing.

I felt so relaxed after an hour, I was not the least bit upset later when I entered my office and found Captain Lopez waiting for me. He had that look. I thought then that Lopez could use some serious floating too.

"How will we respond to this latest spider provocation?" asked Captain Lopez, pacing.

"If you mean blowing up my golf course, I don't even care," I replied.

"Whether you care or not, we cannot let the spiders get away with it," responded Captain Lopez. "We must maintain a credible deterrence."

"Blow up that fruit tree by the checkpoint again," I suggested. "The spider commander gets all p.i.s.sed off when we do that. I like to get him angry. He's wound so tight, he's going to bust a gasket one of these days. Let Guido handle bombing the tree."

Chapter 13.