Lieutenant Columbus (4 page)

“Who wears a stinking badge now!” boomed Smokey the Bear, letting out a rebel yell. I jabbed Smokey in the ribs with my elbow.

Terrified by the piercing Southern scream, Buffalo-Sting and four scorpions immediately surrendered. They faced Smokey for judgment, dropping to their knees.

“You are not real,” accused Buffalo-Sting, lunging. “Smokey is a fake!”
Buffalo-Sting stung Smokey the Bear through the heart. Smokey staggered,
but quickly recovered and
raked Buffalo-Sting with nine-inch
claws
. It was a horrible sight. We quickly barbecued the pieces.

“I magnanimously show mercy to my wayward scorpion children!” advised Smokey the
B
ear, pulling the stinger from his Kevlar vest. “But let this be a lesson. No more poaching of my pets. Let the Buffalo roam free, unmolested! Be gone, and tell your conspirators!”

“But poachers should be executed on the spot,” I argued. “It
’
s the American way. What about tradition? What about the Wild
,
Wild West?”

“Good point,” replied Smokey the Bear, hesitating. “Maybe you are right.”

“No!” pleaded one of the poachers. “Do not let the Butcher of New Colorado and El Cannibal barbecue us. We promise to protect your pets forever, and never poach again!”

“You are on probation,” warned Smokey the Bear. “Be gone!”

The scorpion poachers fled to the valley crossroads. Others gathered, joining in chemical bond, soon breathing in unison. Their terrifying story spread. Immediately all
b
uffalo poaching ended, and McDonald
’
s featured it
’
s Triple Chicken Patty Half Pounder Burger with American cheese, never to serve buffalo products again. And, Christmas lights and decorations adorned roadways and buildings
, even though it was only July.

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Chapter 4

Lieutenant Columbus stood on the shore of Monica Lake, a man
-
made reservoir with a dam at the far end. Frustrated, he rechecked the GPS
and lamented,
“My gold is under the water
!
”

“
Our
gold,” corrected Major Lopez.

“How do we get to it?” asked Shaky Jake, peering into to water at fish swimming by.

“Blow the dam,” advised Lieutenant Columbus. “It is the only way.”

“The flood would reach all the way to Scorpion City,” commented Major Lopez. “We can
’
t do that.”

“It
’
s just scorpions,” argued Shaky Jake. “Who cares? Their underground holes are waterproof, anyway.”

“Probably,” conceded Major Lopez. “I don
’
t think Colonel Czerinski will go for it.”

“Ask him,” insisted Shaky Jake. “We could blame it on terrorists.”

“It would be mass murder,” insisted Major Lopez, crossing himself. “There might be repercussions, even an investigation.”

“Sure there might be injuries and death, but none of them serious,” argued Lieutenant Columbus.

“Damn those terrorists!” exclaimed Shaky Jake. “Have they no conscience? I
’
m tired of being poor. Blow it!”

* * * * *

Major Lopez called me on his phone to get approval
to blow the dam
.

“Activate the Emergency Broadcast Network,” I quickly decided. “You know, the one with the long beep tone on TV and radio that nobody listens to. Then, blow the dam!”

“But what if someone gets hurt?” argued Major Lopez. “What if the Dam Police investigate us?”

“
Do I have to think of everything myself?
Blast a small hole
;
it won
’
t be so bad. Make it happen.”

“Are you sure no one will get hurt?”

“Since when did you become such a saint, Lopez
?
Afraid of losing votes? I agree it
’
s just scorpions. Besides, you
’
ll being doing them a favor. If we find Bob
’
s mine, think of all the job
s that will be
creat
ed
. These are hard times. Do it now!”

“We need to stake a claim,” interrupted Shaky Jake, suddenly the voice of experience and reason. “We cannot uncover the mine until we establish ownership and mineral rights.”

“Good point,” I agreed. “Belay that last order. I
’
ll have an attorney look into filing a claim, and buying Monica Lake. We
’
ll do this legal. Then we blast the damn dam.”

* * * * *

Attorney Eugene Depoli called from the Courthouse in Scorpion City. “You now own the mineral rights under Monica Lake. However, you can
’
t drain the lake because it
’
s on a waterfowl migration route. What are you up too this time?”

“Not a problem,” I replied, ignoring the question. “I
’
ll just blast the dam.”

“Are you not listening?”
squawked
Depoli. “Even if you drain the lake, you will be required to refill it. Besides, it
’
s my legal opinion that blasting that dam is a felony. What
’
s under the lake?”

“Let me worry about that.”

“Another issue is that the
n
orth
s
hore
is
located
inside the Arthropodan Empire. You know how the spiders get about trespassing, and both sides use the lake for irrigation. Are you trying to start another war?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Do I need to evacuate again, and sell short all my stock holdings?”

“Everything is under control,” I answered,
while
giving the matter some thought. “But, you might need to evacuate if I blast the dam.”

* * * * *

Hargundu once again untied his tether. Upset and unwelcoming, the other camels stomped and
bleated in
alarm. Hargundu ignored their protests, deciding to forgo his nightly play. There was a new scent, exotic and wild, on the night breeze, taking Hargundu north across the border.

Hargundu passed unnoticed through the Arthropodan marine camp, avoiding the flickering light of small fires. And there he was! Arousing long ears, subtle raised thighs, massive chest, and hooves to die for!
Hargundu unexpectedly joined t
he spider commander
’
s war mule
i
n passion from behind. Hargundu knew this exotic beast would fulfill all
his
wildest expectations. His new love even kicked like a mule. Hargundu had heard stories and loved noisy sex.

Shots rang out as spider
sentries sounded the alarm. Marines pointed search lights in all directions, then closed on the sound of Hargundu
’
s lovemaking.
Time to leave.
Obviously this mule
’
s owner was a prude. Hargundu ran like the wind into the night, exhilarated like never before. This was the one he had sought for so many years, his one true love, his galactic soul mate. Hargundu would be back to whisk his love off to a palmed oasis of love. But for now, he crawled into Lieutenant Columbus
’
s
tent to hide.

* * * * *

The spider commander was outraged. The suspect beast
’
s tracks led directly across the border
.
O
ne more provocation and atrocity committed by the human pestilence and their Old Earth invasive pets
!
His poor war mule ha
d
been traumatized beyond description, refusing to be mounted for their morning ride.

“What are you going to do about that rabid camel?” demanded the spider commander, rattling the fence. “I want that vicious rapist extradited immediately!”

“You got raped by a camel?” I asked, incredulous, startled by the commotion. “That
’
s terrible.”

“Not me, you fool! My war mule!”

“Sorry,
but
the Legion has a don
’
t
-
ask
-
don
’
t
-
tell policy in regard to animals. Animal indiscretions are not against the law unless humans are involved, and then it
’
s only a misdemeanor. I know. At most, your case is just a civil matter.”

“Barbarians! I want justice for my poor brutalized mule!”

“How do you know it was not consensual?”

“Impossible! Mules and camels do not cavort.”

“It gets lonely out here in the desert.”

“You have not heard the last of this matter,” warned the spider commander, tromping off. “I will kill that pervert camel myself. Your Old Earth pets are no different than their masters!”

* * * * *

The spiders brought reinforcements, a company of armor. I alerted the Air Force they m
ight
be needed, and we dug in.

I also began construction on a waterfowl habitat project in conjunction with the Forest Service. Legion engineers built an island
,
formally
named Czerinski
’
s Isand,
in the middle of Monica Lake, the perfect refuge for ducks and geese to nest and lay eggs.
Some referred to it as Polack Island.
Intolerant bastards!
I planted several palms
on
my
island
.
Who says I am callous to the needs of wildlife? Our fragile ecosystems are very dear to me.
I even ordered engineers to build a shack on the island to store ecology equipment and stuff.

I planned to dig straight down through the island to the Woodard Mine. Digging from shore would not work because we needed privacy.

I noticed Lieutenant Columbus seemed to take unusual joy in navigating a small row boat back and forth to my
i
sland.
“If you are going to name an island for yourself, even a small speck as this, at least christen it by erecting a cross,” scolded Lieutenant Columbus with disdain. “
I
’
ll erect the cross myself.
You have no right to claim ownership
to new lands
. This island belongs to the United States Galactic Federation, and the President.”

“A Republican island surrounded by a Democrat lake,” scoffed Major Lopez.

“That may be true, but I own the mineral rights under it,” I advised, leading the way down the tunnel Legion engineers
had
already drilled. “Seismic tests show Woodard
’
s mine is not far.”

“Remember, we are partners,” advised Shaky Jake.

“We have lots of partners,” I replied, approaching the lead engineer. “Not the least of which is Sergeant Boedecker, my chief engineer.”
We all shook hands.

“It is an honor to finally meet you, Admiral,” exclaimed Sergeant Boedecker, heartily pumping Lieutenant
Columbus
’
s
hand.

“What?”

“Sorry, I meant Lieutenant, sir. I saw you boating earlier.”

“How soon before we break through?” asked Major Lopez.

“Soon.”

* * * * *

The spider commander and a boatload of spider marines motored out to Czerinski Island, storming the beach. They broke into the shack, finding nothing.

“Where is everyone? I saw Czerinski and his band
of
cutthroats just moments ago. Now they are gone? What mischief is he up to now?”

“No good, I am sure,” answered the spider Military Intelligence officer, tapping a claw on the wood floor. “They must be hiding under this structure.”

A team leader set an explosive charge, blowing the floor. The opening revealed the concealed tunnel.

“I knew it!” exclaimed the spider commander. “Czerinski is up to his evil ways again!”

* * * * *