Free America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 4: Demilitarized Zone by Walter Knight

Corporal
Williams. “He was right here. I tripped over him.”
    “I see no hatchlings here,” said Private
Wayne, shining his flashlight across the grass.
    “There is no one out here but you,” snapped
Sergeant Green. “You have been hiding to avoid work again. That’s
okay, because I have a special detail for you and Wayne! Since you
are all rested up, you can dig graves all night. Get back to
camp!”
    “There was a little boy out here,” said
Corporal Williams. “We need to find him. He might be lost.”
    “What boy?” asked Captain Lopez.
    “Williams was asleep hiding in the grass,”
said Sergeant Green. “If he saw anyone, it was in his dreams.”
    “The boy wanted to join the Legion,” insisted
Corporal Williams. “He held a knife to my throat and spoke of the
chupacabra. What is a chupacabra?”
    “The boy was Latino?” asked Captain
Lopez.
    “I guess,” said Corporal Williams. “He
sounded like he was from Texas.”
    “The colonists that were attacked were
Latino,” said Captain Lopez. He grabbed Corporal Williams by the
collar and examined Williams’ neck, seeing a trickle of dried blood
from a pinprick on his Adam’s apple. Captain Lopez immediately
started giving orders. “I want this field searched in a grid
pattern! And I want Guido and his dragon out here sniffing for that
boy!”
    “We have a timetable,” said Sergeant Green.
“There are other homesteads out here.”
    “We will camp here until dawn,” said Captain
Lopez. “Then we move out.”
    After an extensive search, the boy was not
found. Captain Lopez left a stash of food and water next to the
graves. Corporal Williams eventually convinced himself he’d just
dreamed it all. That was what everyone seemed to believe. Or maybe
the boy was a ghost. The Devil knows there must be enough ghosts
and restless souls out here, Williams told himself.
     
    * * * * *
     
    The spider commander sat in his office,
wondering what had gone wrong during recent negotiations. He had
shown proof to the human pestilence general that squatters had
invaded Arthropodan territory and had attacked border guards. Could
it be that the human pestilence were just not capable of
negotiating in good faith like civilized beings?
    The Governor of the North Territory called
several times. The spider commander put him off, telling aides to
inform the governor he was out inspecting the troops. Finally the
Emperor himself called. The spider commander had not talked to his
uncle in a long time, and did not particularly want to talk to him
now. However, aides refused to lie to or hang up on the
Emperor.
    “Hello, Uncle,” said the spider commander,
cheerfully greeting the image on his communications monitor. “I am
so glad to see you after so long. What may I do for you?”
    “The first thing you can do is address me as
Your Majesty,” snapped the Emperor. “Or would you rather I reach
across the galaxy and pop your puny head like the pimple that it
is?”
    “Yes, Your Majesty,” replied the spider
commander. “I am at your service.”
    “I already know that,” said the Emperor. “I
posted you on the most remote part of the most distant inhabited
planet of the Empire as a favor to your mother, and to keep you out
of trouble, but still you are able to screw up to the point of
causing an intergalactic crisis that might start another war. I
swear you could screw up a wet nightmare.”
    “What have I done, Your Majesty?” protested
the spider commander. “The human pestilence have invaded the New
Gobi Desert. It is not my fault.”
    “It is your fault!” said the Emperor.
“I just watched your little massacre of civilians on cable TV. Now
the whole Royal Family is being publicly dragged through the mud by
the press, and it is your fault!”
    “What can I do?” asked the spider commander.
“The human pestilence are overwhelming us with sheer numbers. They
breed like vermin, you know.”
    “Millions of our own settlers will arrive
soon,” said the