you,” bristled Patton refusing to toast with spiders.
“ To peace on everyone,” added the governor.
“ To the next war,” toasted Patton.
“ Sooner than you realize,” advised the spider commander, gulping his wine through clenched fangs.
“ To the victor goes the spoils,” slurred Stone-Claw, already drunk. “To rape and plunder sweet bubble-butt virgins.”
“ To this fine meal,” toasted Daly, trying to divert a confrontation. “What’s in this meat pie? Duck?”
“ Tastes like chicken,” answered the governor. “It’s a bit gamey. I love eating ethnic.”
“ Eat up, Czerinski,” ordered General Daly, noticing me pick suspiciously at my pie. “It’s a party.”
“ I only eat one meal a day, and this isn’t it.”
“ I love spider culinary innovation,” commented Daly. “It adds so much to the frontier experience. My wife would love your recipe for this meat pie.”
“ That’s not going to happen,” I whispered to Lopez. He nodded in agreement.
“ What was that, Czerinski?”
“ Nothing, sir.”
General Daly let out a customary belch to express polite appreciation of the fine meal. Photographers zoomed in for close-ups of the general wiping his mustache with a napkin. Fox News ratings soared to all-time galactic highs as commentators and Democrats speculated about whether the pie was duck, chicken, or something more sinister. The public might never know.
Suddenly General Daly felt ill with stomach pains. “Where’s the restroom?” he asked. “Your road-kill pie went right through me.”
“ Sir, there are no restrooms,” answered Major Lopez, handing the general a smooth rock. “You’ll have to go native. The spiders go out by the creek.”
“ That’s damned odd,” complained Daly, examining the smoothness of the rock. “What the hell?”
“ Keep it,” replied Lopez. “I have plenty.”
“ We recycle our rocks!” called out Stone-Claw as Daly dashed outside. “We practice green. Waste not, want not!”
* * * * *
After a month of debate and news commentary, several polls indicated that the American public was outraged at the alien abduction of Channel Five World News Tonight investigative reporter Phil Coen. After all, Coen was an American icon, and winner of two Geraldo Awards. It set a bad precedent, allowing those arachnids to abduct and probe the press with impunity. Something had to be done. Even Republicans in Congress conceded that America should file a formal protest with the Arthropodan ambassador.
As always, the Legion was tasked with cleaning up the politicians ’ mess when diplomacy failed. The spider commander denied Coen was in Imperial custody. He even presented a phony video as proof the Wild Ones abducted Coen. What nerve. Chief Stone-Claw claimed that on the day in question he was too drunk to remember much of anything. In fact, that whole week was a total blank, and he had alibis to prove it.
Despite unfair accusations of corruption and conflict of interest, General Daly ordered me to investigate Coen ’s abduction, confident I could overcome more bad press. Someone erased all security camera recordings of the abduction, a clear indication the Mafia was involved. The Black Hand’s fingerprints were all over the kidnapping. Somehow, the Mafia had got past Mars and worked its evil ways. General Daly ordered all known Mafiosos on New Colorado arrested for interrogation. Ha! Good luck with that.
Fortunately, not all wise guys were hard to fin d. Jimmy the Neck, and his henchmen Johnny the Gut and Big Al Alfredo, picked this very weekend to go on holiday to the Roof of the World Casino Resort. Bad luck for them. I arrested all three.
“ Czerinski, long time no see! Is this how you treat your friends? I thought we had goodwill between us.”
“ What are you doing here?” I asked. “Did you come for Coen?”
“ Who is Coen?”
“ Trying to muscle in on my action?”
“ You’ve got me all wrong,” cried Jimmy the
“ To peace on everyone,” added the governor.
“ To the next war,” toasted Patton.
“ Sooner than you realize,” advised the spider commander, gulping his wine through clenched fangs.
“ To the victor goes the spoils,” slurred Stone-Claw, already drunk. “To rape and plunder sweet bubble-butt virgins.”
“ To this fine meal,” toasted Daly, trying to divert a confrontation. “What’s in this meat pie? Duck?”
“ Tastes like chicken,” answered the governor. “It’s a bit gamey. I love eating ethnic.”
“ Eat up, Czerinski,” ordered General Daly, noticing me pick suspiciously at my pie. “It’s a party.”
“ I only eat one meal a day, and this isn’t it.”
“ I love spider culinary innovation,” commented Daly. “It adds so much to the frontier experience. My wife would love your recipe for this meat pie.”
“ That’s not going to happen,” I whispered to Lopez. He nodded in agreement.
“ What was that, Czerinski?”
“ Nothing, sir.”
General Daly let out a customary belch to express polite appreciation of the fine meal. Photographers zoomed in for close-ups of the general wiping his mustache with a napkin. Fox News ratings soared to all-time galactic highs as commentators and Democrats speculated about whether the pie was duck, chicken, or something more sinister. The public might never know.
Suddenly General Daly felt ill with stomach pains. “Where’s the restroom?” he asked. “Your road-kill pie went right through me.”
“ Sir, there are no restrooms,” answered Major Lopez, handing the general a smooth rock. “You’ll have to go native. The spiders go out by the creek.”
“ That’s damned odd,” complained Daly, examining the smoothness of the rock. “What the hell?”
“ Keep it,” replied Lopez. “I have plenty.”
“ We recycle our rocks!” called out Stone-Claw as Daly dashed outside. “We practice green. Waste not, want not!”
* * * * *
After a month of debate and news commentary, several polls indicated that the American public was outraged at the alien abduction of Channel Five World News Tonight investigative reporter Phil Coen. After all, Coen was an American icon, and winner of two Geraldo Awards. It set a bad precedent, allowing those arachnids to abduct and probe the press with impunity. Something had to be done. Even Republicans in Congress conceded that America should file a formal protest with the Arthropodan ambassador.
As always, the Legion was tasked with cleaning up the politicians ’ mess when diplomacy failed. The spider commander denied Coen was in Imperial custody. He even presented a phony video as proof the Wild Ones abducted Coen. What nerve. Chief Stone-Claw claimed that on the day in question he was too drunk to remember much of anything. In fact, that whole week was a total blank, and he had alibis to prove it.
Despite unfair accusations of corruption and conflict of interest, General Daly ordered me to investigate Coen ’s abduction, confident I could overcome more bad press. Someone erased all security camera recordings of the abduction, a clear indication the Mafia was involved. The Black Hand’s fingerprints were all over the kidnapping. Somehow, the Mafia had got past Mars and worked its evil ways. General Daly ordered all known Mafiosos on New Colorado arrested for interrogation. Ha! Good luck with that.
Fortunately, not all wise guys were hard to fin d. Jimmy the Neck, and his henchmen Johnny the Gut and Big Al Alfredo, picked this very weekend to go on holiday to the Roof of the World Casino Resort. Bad luck for them. I arrested all three.
“ Czerinski, long time no see! Is this how you treat your friends? I thought we had goodwill between us.”
“ What are you doing here?” I asked. “Did you come for Coen?”
“ Who is Coen?”
“ Trying to muscle in on my action?”
“ You’ve got me all wrong,” cried Jimmy the
Similar Books
