Free America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 22: Blue Powder War by Walter Knight Page B

ringer!” exclaimed Jones. “I’m doing twenty years because I keep losing to the guards. With you, we all get parole!”
    “You really think there’s a chance?” asked Coles. “I’m a kicker. Back in the day, when I was on drugs, no one was better. Score me some blue powder, and I’ll show you.”
    “Keep this our little secret,” whispered Jones conspiratorially.” “We’ll take the guards down by surprise. And even if we lose, I’m busting out of this hole.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    I requested battalion volunteers with football experience to play on the sheriff’s office public safety team in their annual guards against the convicts football game. Major Lopez brought me two quality prospects. I already knew Private Higuera. Big kid.
    “You appear to be a man of many talents,” I praised. “Where did you play?”
    “Tucson High,” bragged Private Higuera. “Go Badgers!”
    “Now you play for the New Phoenix Sheriff’s Office. Go Pyro-Pigs!”
    “I’m playing for the cops?”
    “Got a problem with that?” asked Major Lopez, getting in Higuera’s face.
    “No, sir,” answered Higuera. “I love cops. I just want to hug a cop.”
    “It’s a public safety team,” I explained. “The police and the Legion are united in drug interdiction efforts as of late. It’s good press.”
    Higuera had a lot of rough edges, but he had good size, obviously a defensive lineman. I turned my attention to the other prospect, a big clean-cut legionnaire still standing at rigid attention. He wanted to be the best of the best of the best.
    “At ease,” I ordered. “Relax, son. Who are you?”
    “Private Tebow, sir!”
    “Who’d you play for?”
    “God, sir.”
    “Are you on drugs?” I asked, alarmed at how high-strung the new kid appeared. “Who else did you play for?”
    “Just God, sir. I used to be strung out on drugs, but now I’m strung out on the Lord.”
    “I see.”
    “He’s real good,” assured Major Lopez, catching my foul glance. “Really, he is.”
    “What position do you play?”
    “Quarterback.”
    “Have you ever deflated a football prior to a game, for better grip?”
    “Every chance I get.”
    “Outstanding!” I exclaimed, the best news I’d heard all day. “Major Lopez, suspend all urine drug testing for Private Tebow until after the game.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I expect you two to represent the Legion with honor, integrity, ferocity, and skill. Most of all, I expect you to win. Major Lopez and I have money on the game. So does the rest of the battalion. Am I clear on that?”
    “Yes, sir!” they chorused.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 13
     
    The spider commander hung Channel Five World News Tonight investigative reporter Phil Coen from a ceiling hook. A swivel allowed Coen to spin at the spider commander’s whim. The spider commander was easily amused by warm-up torture.
    “I am your biggest fan,” said the spider commander, bringing Coen to an abrupt stop. “I love American human pestilence TV. I have followed your investigations of Colonel Czerinski for years with great interest. Nothing seems to stick, and now it appears he has even won the war on blue powder.”
    “Is that what this is about?” cried Coen. “You’re not going to torture and eat me alive? There’s no need for all this. I’d help you get Czerinski for free.”
    “It is true, that is why I rescued you. However, after reviewing your video, I am more interested in the tornado.”
    “I no longer do weather,” advised Coen indignantly. “Those days of chasing storms are long gone. I’m a galactic icon now.”
    “There were two more tornadoes in New Phoenix. I saw them on TV. Do you know anything about that?”
    “Shit happens?”
    “Somehow, Blue-Claw is behind those tornadoes, but he is under arrest at the New Phoenix Sheriff’s Office. I want you to talk to Blue-Claw before Czerinski gets to him. I want to know how he did it.”
    “Did what?”
    “Create large funnel clouds speckled with