"No, sir," answered Private Wayne.

"Don't ever lie to me again!" said Lieutenant Lopez, getting in Private Wayne's face. "See that armored car parked over by City Hall? Take two recruits and wash it. Do it now!"

"Yes, sir," said Private Wayne as he left with the two recruits next to him.

"What was that about?" asked Sergeant Green. "Are those two special?"

"Maybe," said Lieutenant Lopez. "Didn't you notice their boots? Keep a close eye on them."

Sergeant Green nodded. They continued their inspection of the recruits. "Who here has experience with small engines?" asked Sergeant Green. Several recruits raised their hands or claws. "Great! You recruits just volunteered to mow gra.s.s at Legion Headquarters. You better do a good job!"

How ironic, thought Private Wayne, that he was washing the same armored car that had killed so many of his Special Forces soldiers and insurgents. No amount of scrubbing could wash the blood off. Had Lieutenant Lopez planned this slap in the face? "Not possible," he thought out loud. As they finished, Lieutenant Lopez walked by to inspect the washing.

"Put a wax job on it," ordered Lieutenant Lopez. "I want my armored car to shine."

"Military vehicles are not waxed," said Private Wayne. "You are wasting our time."

"Just do it!" demanded Lieutenant Lopez, walking away.

"You should be mindful of crossing Lieutenant Lopez," advised Private Camacho as he tossed a scrub pad into a bucket. "He has a nasty reputation."

"If you treat a skunk nicely, he will just p.i.s.s on you less often," said Private Wayne. "I will only treat him with respect if he treats me with respect."

"How would a spider like you even know what a skunk is?" asked Private Camacho.

"Do unto others, before they do unto you," interjected Private Adams, the other car washer. "That's my motto."

"Live and let live, and s.h.i.t rolls down hill," added Private Camacho. "Privates don't back-talk to lieutenants, especially combat vets like Lieutenant Lopez."

"Lieutenant Lopez is psycho," said Private Wayne.

"All the better reason to not upset him," said Private Camacho. "I agree he is a couple beans short of a full burrito. So don't drag us into your p.i.s.sing contest."

"Tomorrow this armored car will be covered with mud," said Private Wayne. "Washing and waxing it is just a way to mess with us recruits."

"If we aren't here doing this," said Private Adams, "we'll just be somewhere else doing something else. The trick is to milk this into an all day project."

"That's right," said Private Camacho. "It's a nice sunny day. Just pretend you are at home, kicking back, listening to tunes, soaking in some rays, and waxing your Chevy. Remember, we could be sweating and working in the kitchen like your buddy."

"He is not my buddy."

"What's the deal with you two?" asked Private Adams. "Lopez asked if you had prior experience. Then he accused you of lying when you said no. What gives? Spill it."

"He was just messing with us because we are spiders," explained Private Wayne. "That is all there is to it."

The Legion was tasked with escorting oil rigs, supply trucks, and mining equipment traveling north between Finisterra and the Arctic Circle. Bandits and insurgents were becoming more active along the North Highway.

Lieutenant Lopez and Sergeant Green took about a dozen legionnaires north in the armored car. Lieutenant Lopez doubted there would be any trouble, but the long trip would give him time to train and evaluate the new recruits.

Private Wayne rode on top with Private Brown. Mud splattered the bottom half of the armored car as it splashed along. Private Wayne expected he would be told to wash the armored car again tonight. His anger simmered with each muddy splash. It was cold riding on top, but Privates Brown and Wayne could not stand the smell of the human pestilence down below. The fresh air was a pleasant relief.

A drone watched over them from above. Lieutenant Lopez monitored its video images. About a half mile ahead a tree lay across the road. Lieutenant Lopez ordered the legionnaires to get ready and to be alert. The armored car sped ahead of the column to check for possible ambush. As they approached the fallen tree, the armored car struck a mine.

Private Washington lost steering and crashed the armored car into the ditch. Sergeant Green fired the machine gun into the woods to cover the legionnaires as they poured out the back of the armored car. Several were suffering from shock and the concussive effects of the blast. Privates Brown and Wayne jumped off separate sides of the armored car and took cover in the trees.

An insurgent sniper killed the first legionnaire out of the armored car. Private Adams never knew what hit him. Private Wayne quickly located the sniper up in a tree and killed him with a burst from his a.s.sault rifle. The spider swung back and forth from a rope attached to his leg. Private Wayne watched for movement, then saw a second sniper. Reflection from the gla.s.s of the insurgent's rifle scope gave him away. Private Wayne shot him, too. A third sniper fired at the armored car. Lieutenant Lopez, using sniper directional locating scanners, blew the sniper out of a tree with the cannon. The tree fell, too. Two remaining spider insurgents retreated.

Spot quickly picked up their scent, leading Corporal Tonelli and Private Wayne on a chase. The dragon killed one of the insurgents about two miles into the forest as the spider jogged along a game trail. The remaining insurgent got away. He hid his scent by walking in the water of a shallow stream.

"You have killed before," Tonelli said to Wayne as they walked back to the column. "Were you in the Arthropodan army?"

"No offense, but my enlistment contract guarantees that I do not have to talk about my past," replied Private Wayne. "It's part of an all encompa.s.sing amnesty that all legionnaires get."

"Or maybe you were an insurgent?" prodded Tonelli. "That enlistment contract is only good if you were completely truthful in your disclosure. If you want to survive out here, we have to be able to trust each other."

"Trust that I know my business when it comes to killing," said Private Wayne. "Trust that will have to be good enough."

"It's good enough for me," advised Tonelli. "But good luck with Lieutenant Lopez and Sergeant Green. If you try that enlistment contract c.r.a.p on them out here, you won't be coming back. They'll gut you if they think you are not loyal."

"I am loyal," said Private Wayne, realizing for the first time that he felt good about joining the Legion. He liked having structure back in his life. He thrived on the rush of surviving combat, and the camaraderie of his fellows, even if they were just human pestilence. They walked back to the column in silence. The armored car was already hooked up to a truck to be towed the rest of the way. Its front axle was broken.

Lieutenant Lopez looked closely at Private Wayne as Corporal Tonelli reported the killing of the insurgent by Spot. Wayne said nothing.

"Did you dye your exoskeleton?" asked Sergeant Green.

"It is stained, not dyed," said Private Wayne. "There is a difference."

"Whatever," said Sergeant Green. "Don't be a smart a.s.s. What was the original color?"

"I think it was reddish brown," replied Private Wayne, admiring his new shiny black. "It's been so long, I can't remember for sure, nor do I care."

"Have you ever used green dye?" asked Private Washington, also staring at Private Wayne.

"No," answered Private Wayne. "I don't like Greens. They are a bunch of money grubbers."

"Screw you," said Private Washington.

"That was some good shooting," commented Sergeant Green. "You must have good eyesight to pick out those snipers like you did. I want you to stay close to me."

"I prefer not to," said Private Wayne, as he hitched a ride on one of the trucks. "It is not healthy to hang around officers or sergeants. They make such good targets for snipers."

"Smart-a.s.s spider," said Sergeant Green. "I'll be watching you."

"One more thing, Wayne," said Lieutenant Lopez. "I'm promoting you to corporal. That will teach you to run your mouth. You make sure we don't lose any more legionnaires, or it will be your a.s.s."

Lieutenant Lopez watched the video monitor. Eight humans and two spiders loitered around a truck parked along the North Highway. One of the humans was talking on a radio. The human directed most of his men to hide in the forest. Then he lifted the hood of his truck up and pretended to be checking the engine.

"What do you make of that?" asked Lieutenant Lopez. "Bandits?"

"It looks like it," said Sergeant Green. "A lookout must have just reported our approach. These bandits lie in ambush and wait for good Samaritans like us to help them."

"It warms my heart to see that spider/human racial harmony has progressed to the point that the two species can work together so closely to rob convoys," said Lieutenant Lopez. "It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

As the drone continued its surveillance, Lieutenant Lopez contacted the T. Roosevelt and ordered an air strike. The T. Roosevelt patched into their video network. Corporals Tonelli and Wayne slipped into the woods with the dragon to locate the lookout. Spot immediately picked up the scent. The column continued towards the ambush.

The bandit leader glanced up from under the hood, expecting to see the convoy any second. He could hear an annoying humming of the drone up above, but dismissed the sound as just ringing in his ears. Forest on both sides of the truck exploded in flames. The bandit leader dove for the ditch as a bomb hit the truck. The T. Roosevelt Weapons Platform once again did its work to perfection. The convoy quickly came into view and legionnaires easily captured the bandit leader. Two more bandits were dragged from the woods. The rest were dead. All three were bound with their hands behind their backs. Tonelli and Wayne arrived a few minutes later. Spot was still chewing on a femur bone from the lookout.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself before execution?" asked Lieutenant Lopez, confronting the bandit leader.

"I have Const.i.tutional rights," replied the bandit leader. "You can't do this. I demand a fair trial."

"We operate under Colonial Law," advised Lieutenant Lopez. "You will be executed for being an undesirable on New Colorado. Do you have anything more to say?"

"My truck held an oil rig worker we hoped to ransom," said the bandit leader. "You killed him. His blood is on your hands."

Lieutenant Lopez shot the bandit leader in the head. "I'll get over it," he replied. A second bandit broke free and ran for the trees. Lieutenant Lopez shot him, too. Then he turned his attention to the last bandit.

"Please don't kill me," pleaded the bandit. "I'm only fifteen years old."

"Not good enough," said Lieutenant Lopez, as he aimed his pistol. "I don't care about your age. You're a cancer that needs to be cut out."

"Let me join the Legion," pleaded the bandit. "You allow all sorts into the Legion. How many of you have questionable pasts? Let me join, too."

"We do not allow sc.u.m like you to enlist," said Corporal Wayne, knife drawn as he stepped forward. "I will slit his throat quickly. He will feel minimal pain."

"What are you doing?" asked Tonelli. "Leave the kid alone! It's not necessary to execute him"

"The feel of my knife cutting through the soft skin of human pestilence pleases me," admitted Corporal Wayne as he grabbed the bandit by the hair. "Hold still and die honorably."

"Please!" screamed the bandit, turning back to Lieutenant Lopez. "My brother was in the Legion! He was even in First Division. Let me enlist!"

"Don't lie to me, or you will die slowly," said Lieutenant Lopez "What was your brother's name?"

"Sergeant Hans Krueger," replied the young bandit. "Did you know him?"

Lieutenant Lopez holstered his pistol. He stared at the bandit, their faces inches apart. "I see the resemblance," he said. "Except Sergeant Krueger was a killer. You, however, are worthless to the Legion."

"I can learn," said young Krueger. "I have always wanted to join the Legion. I won't let you down."

"We are one recruit down," advised Sergeant Green. "Let him enlist. He'll probably get himself killed anyway, but who knows? He might work out."

"Release him," ordered Lieutenant Lopez. "Give him Private Adams' equipment, web gear, flack jacket, and extra uniform."

"You got lucky," said Corporal Wayne, releasing Krueger with a shove. "But your luck won't last forever. I'll be watching you."

"Corporal Wayne," said Lieutenant Lopez. "Private Krueger is your responsibility. Teach Krueger what he needs to know to survive."

"Yes!" exclaimed Private Krueger. In his excitement, he stumbled and stepped on Spot's tail. The dragon lunged. The Legion almost lost its newest recruit, but Tonelli pulled the dragon back just inches from Private Krueger's face.

"Watch where you step, you dumb-a.s.s newbie," yelled Tonelli. "You won't last a week."

"Keep that dragon away from Krueger," ordered Lieutenant Lopez. "I don't want that dragon anywhere near Krueger. Understand?"

"Whatever," said Tonelli. "It won't save him. The kid can't walk and chew gum at the same time."

CHAPTER 16.

Camp Alaska was the crossroads for deployment of oil drilling equipment and mining equipment for the entire Arctic region. Its streets were muddy when not frozen. Houses were prefabricated and temporary. No one noticed another column of oil rigs escorted by legionnaires when they arrived in town.

Lieutenant Lopez ordered the armored car dropped off in front of a truck repair shop. "I am giving everyone two days off," he said. "Sergeant Green and I will be staying with the armored car. All of you are expected to report in at 0900 and 1700 every day. Report late, and I will hunt you down and put you on guard duty for the duration of our stay in Camp Alaska. Stay in groups of at least four so you don't get mugged. Dismissed!"

Wayne, Tonelli, Camacho, and Krueger easily found the North Slope Tavern. Oil rig workers and miners packed the bar. Workers gave Spot a wide berth as Tonelli led the dragon inside.

"Give me whiskey," said Private Krueger, slapping money on the bar. "Leave the bottle!"

"Son, you are too young to drink here," advised the bartender. "You have to go."

"I'm in the Legion," replied Private Krueger. "Can't you see my uniform? I'm not going anywhere."

"You are the shortest legionnaire I have ever seen," said the bartender. "What are you, about twelve years old?"

Private Krueger reached in his pouch and pulled out a grenade, setting it on the counter. "Are you going to serve me, or am I going to have to get angry?"

"You better keep an eye on your boy," Tonelli said to Wayne. "Did you see that? He has a grenade."

"So? We all have grenades," said Corporal Wayne. "Krueger can take care of himself. Now give me some room and don't bother me with the little stuff."

"Hear that?" said Private Camacho. "You are cramping Wayne's style."

"No one asked for your opinion," said Tonelli.

"Lighten up," said Private Camacho, eyeing some female oil rig workers sitting at the next table. "I'm going to go talk to those babes. Be my wingman."

Tonelli followed Camacho to the ladies' table. To Tonelli they seemed ugly. Camacho offered to buy a round of drinks and asked if he could join them.