Understand?”
“Whatever,” I replied. “Good. May the best alien pestilence win!” As General Lopez and I posed for the press corps, a high ranking spider Intelligentsia officer approached, saluting. “They have no armor inside the Embassy grounds,” whispered the Intelligentsia officer. “This should be easy money. I have ten thousand credits bet that you human pestilence make short work of those scorpion perverts before sunset.”
“Thank you,” I said, returning his salute. “There is a line on the outcome of our little war?”
“Most certainly,” advised the Intelligentsia officer. “Anything I can do to help, let me know. Do you need maps for the sewer? I have explosives I can lend you.”
“Corporal Tonelli!” I shouted.
Guido raced to the press area from the cover of his armored car. “Sir, there could be scorpion snipers. We shouldn’t be exposed like this.”
“Are you still connected to New Colorado?” I asked as we dashed for the cover of my armored car. I left Lopez schmoozing with the press. “What’s the line on us winning this battle?”
Guido checked his pad. “The line from New Memphis has been changing all day because of reports we sustained casualties along the way, and because of the loss of our drone. We were favored two to one, but now the odds are even money. If you are thinking about placing a wager, you better do it now before anyone finds out the scorpions have no armor.”
“Put me down for three million dollars for the Legion to win,” I ordered. ‘You know I’m good for it.”
General Lopez followed to the armored cars, sauntering back with a couple reporters in tow. “I want some of that action, too,” advised Lopez, swiping his card on Guido’s pad. Then, turning his attention to the press, General Lopez began in a deep authoritative voice, “After today, the galaxy and those pervert cannibal scorpions will have more respect for Legion capabilities and American resolve. Let the bombardment begin!”
“Wait!” advised Guido, checking his pad. “There is side action you might be interested in. We can still get three-to-one odds if this ends with the Legion eating the scorpions.”
“All of them?” I asked incredulously. “At least the Scorpion Ambassador,” answered Guido, receiving clarification from his pad. “I’ll bet twenty million on that side bet,” whispered General Lopez. “I have an ace in the hole. This is money in the bank.” A nearby spider traffic cop immediately broke ranks and ran off to an area roped off for bookies. We got our bets in just in time, before the odds changed.
* * * * *
Before the shooting started, the scorpion ambassador presented himself outside the main gate under a white flag of truce, flanked by two aides. General Lopez and I met the ambassador half way. We brought Private Wayne because he was the biggest spider in our company, and I wanted the intimidation bar raised.
We walked three abreast, like Old West gunslingers at high noon. My holster was unsnapped and hanging low. General Lopez smoked a Cuban cigar. Private Wayne, upset at leaving cover, scanned the embassy walls for snipers.
“What is this nonsense?” hissed the scorpion ambassador. “The Kingdom will not tolerate your disrespectful provocations any longer. Be warned, my staff has the means to defend our embassy from the likes of your human horde. What do you want?”
“I demand nothing less than your head on a spike!” demanded General Lopez.
“My head?” asked the ambassador, checking his translator. “Spike?”
“It’s an Old Earth traditional end for villains like you,” explained General Lopez, keeping his good side to the cameras, “dating back to the days of the Roman Empire. It’s a must.”
“Not likely,” scoffed the scorpion ambassador. His aides shifted nervously. “Are you trying to start an intergalactic war? Does your President know of your adventurism?”
“The whole galaxy knows,”
“Whatever,” I replied. “Good. May the best alien pestilence win!” As General Lopez and I posed for the press corps, a high ranking spider Intelligentsia officer approached, saluting. “They have no armor inside the Embassy grounds,” whispered the Intelligentsia officer. “This should be easy money. I have ten thousand credits bet that you human pestilence make short work of those scorpion perverts before sunset.”
“Thank you,” I said, returning his salute. “There is a line on the outcome of our little war?”
“Most certainly,” advised the Intelligentsia officer. “Anything I can do to help, let me know. Do you need maps for the sewer? I have explosives I can lend you.”
“Corporal Tonelli!” I shouted.
Guido raced to the press area from the cover of his armored car. “Sir, there could be scorpion snipers. We shouldn’t be exposed like this.”
“Are you still connected to New Colorado?” I asked as we dashed for the cover of my armored car. I left Lopez schmoozing with the press. “What’s the line on us winning this battle?”
Guido checked his pad. “The line from New Memphis has been changing all day because of reports we sustained casualties along the way, and because of the loss of our drone. We were favored two to one, but now the odds are even money. If you are thinking about placing a wager, you better do it now before anyone finds out the scorpions have no armor.”
“Put me down for three million dollars for the Legion to win,” I ordered. ‘You know I’m good for it.”
General Lopez followed to the armored cars, sauntering back with a couple reporters in tow. “I want some of that action, too,” advised Lopez, swiping his card on Guido’s pad. Then, turning his attention to the press, General Lopez began in a deep authoritative voice, “After today, the galaxy and those pervert cannibal scorpions will have more respect for Legion capabilities and American resolve. Let the bombardment begin!”
“Wait!” advised Guido, checking his pad. “There is side action you might be interested in. We can still get three-to-one odds if this ends with the Legion eating the scorpions.”
“All of them?” I asked incredulously. “At least the Scorpion Ambassador,” answered Guido, receiving clarification from his pad. “I’ll bet twenty million on that side bet,” whispered General Lopez. “I have an ace in the hole. This is money in the bank.” A nearby spider traffic cop immediately broke ranks and ran off to an area roped off for bookies. We got our bets in just in time, before the odds changed.
* * * * *
Before the shooting started, the scorpion ambassador presented himself outside the main gate under a white flag of truce, flanked by two aides. General Lopez and I met the ambassador half way. We brought Private Wayne because he was the biggest spider in our company, and I wanted the intimidation bar raised.
We walked three abreast, like Old West gunslingers at high noon. My holster was unsnapped and hanging low. General Lopez smoked a Cuban cigar. Private Wayne, upset at leaving cover, scanned the embassy walls for snipers.
“What is this nonsense?” hissed the scorpion ambassador. “The Kingdom will not tolerate your disrespectful provocations any longer. Be warned, my staff has the means to defend our embassy from the likes of your human horde. What do you want?”
“I demand nothing less than your head on a spike!” demanded General Lopez.
“My head?” asked the ambassador, checking his translator. “Spike?”
“It’s an Old Earth traditional end for villains like you,” explained General Lopez, keeping his good side to the cameras, “dating back to the days of the Roman Empire. It’s a must.”
“Not likely,” scoffed the scorpion ambassador. His aides shifted nervously. “Are you trying to start an intergalactic war? Does your President know of your adventurism?”
“The whole galaxy knows,”
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