transferred to a remote dusty post on the edge of nowhere if I didn’t save his son. That threat was totally useless; I was already posted to a dusty spot on the edge of nowhere. Phil Coen emailed me, wanting access to my prisoner. I had already talked to the local press, so I put Phil in my junk mail. General Daly emailed me, complaining that he saw me on TV, and I wasn’t wearing my blue helmet. Under intense pressure, I finally relented and worked out a deal with Quick-Sting. I agreed to do a prisoner exchange in the tunnels beneath the Scorpion City Elks Lodge.
At Legion Headquarters, Sergeant Williams and I strapped a vest on to Secret-Sting. We also duct-taped a bag over his stinger.
“Why do I have to wear this vest?” asked Secret-Sting. “It is very uncomfortable.”
“We are doing the exchange in a tunnel,” explained Sergeant Williams. “This vest has lights that will let us see you, even if our lights go out. It makes you a better target.”
“You are lying to me,” said Secret-Sting. “I can tell by the way your face twitches. I would love to play you at poker. I would take all your money.”
“The vest has a tracking device so I can hunt you down and kill you if anything bad happens to Lieutenant Perkins,” I explained further.
“Now, that I can believe,” commented Secret-Sting. “That is exactly the kind of thing the Butcher of New Colorado would do. I can respect that.”
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Now?” asked Secret-Sting, reluctant to leave his cell. He motioned to the TV in the corner. “It was half time when you came down here, but the third quarter is about to start. It’s been a great game. The Seahawks are kicking butt again.”
“Scorpions watch football?” I asked.
“Only our males,” commented Quick-Sting. “Football irritates the hell out of our females.”
“That’s true with human and spider females, too,” I said. “There has been research on the matter, but so far scientists can’t explain it. The evidence is inconclusive, but I think statistically females of all species are unstable.”
“All any of that proves is football turns men into morons,” interjected medic Ceausescu. “See what I mean?” I asked. “Do you think the Seahawks are going to the Super Bowl again?” “I know they will,” responded Quick-Sting. “It’s in the bag.”
* * * * *
A few hundred yards into the tunnel under the Elks Lodge, we saw a light. Scorpion insurgents were waiting with Lieutenant Perkins. We did the exchange.
“It is good to see you again cousin,” said Secret-Sting. “I never thought I would see any of my family again.” “Promise me, no more suicide attacks,” whispered Quick-Sting, as they grasped claws. “It’s too dangerous.” “You’re free,” I commented. “Go home before this family reunion makes me puke.” “I love you too, legionnaire,” said Secret-Sting, as they retreated down the tunnel, each giving me the one-fingered salute. Lieutenant Perkins and I saluted back as we ran the other way. I stopped at the tunnel exit, pulled a small remote from my pouch, and pressed the button. A far off explosion filled the tunnel with dust and smoke.
“What did you just do?” asked Lieutenant Perkins.
“Hopefully I killed Secret-Sting and his idiot cousin,” I answered. “The galaxy will be a better place without those two adding to the gene pool. There were explosives in Secret-Sting’s vest.”
“That’s unethical,” said Lieutenant Perkins. “You made promises. What about the Super Bowl?”
“Shut up Perky,” I replied. “You are alive. That’s all that counts. I am transferring you to Mars because I can’t stand you anymore. Say hello to your dad for me. You’re a royal pain in the ass.”
“I won’t go,” said Lieutenant Perkins. “This is where I belong, in the Legion, fighting on the Frontier.”
My personal phone rang. Shit, I thought, answering my phone. “What?”
“I took that
At Legion Headquarters, Sergeant Williams and I strapped a vest on to Secret-Sting. We also duct-taped a bag over his stinger.
“Why do I have to wear this vest?” asked Secret-Sting. “It is very uncomfortable.”
“We are doing the exchange in a tunnel,” explained Sergeant Williams. “This vest has lights that will let us see you, even if our lights go out. It makes you a better target.”
“You are lying to me,” said Secret-Sting. “I can tell by the way your face twitches. I would love to play you at poker. I would take all your money.”
“The vest has a tracking device so I can hunt you down and kill you if anything bad happens to Lieutenant Perkins,” I explained further.
“Now, that I can believe,” commented Secret-Sting. “That is exactly the kind of thing the Butcher of New Colorado would do. I can respect that.”
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Now?” asked Secret-Sting, reluctant to leave his cell. He motioned to the TV in the corner. “It was half time when you came down here, but the third quarter is about to start. It’s been a great game. The Seahawks are kicking butt again.”
“Scorpions watch football?” I asked.
“Only our males,” commented Quick-Sting. “Football irritates the hell out of our females.”
“That’s true with human and spider females, too,” I said. “There has been research on the matter, but so far scientists can’t explain it. The evidence is inconclusive, but I think statistically females of all species are unstable.”
“All any of that proves is football turns men into morons,” interjected medic Ceausescu. “See what I mean?” I asked. “Do you think the Seahawks are going to the Super Bowl again?” “I know they will,” responded Quick-Sting. “It’s in the bag.”
* * * * *
A few hundred yards into the tunnel under the Elks Lodge, we saw a light. Scorpion insurgents were waiting with Lieutenant Perkins. We did the exchange.
“It is good to see you again cousin,” said Secret-Sting. “I never thought I would see any of my family again.” “Promise me, no more suicide attacks,” whispered Quick-Sting, as they grasped claws. “It’s too dangerous.” “You’re free,” I commented. “Go home before this family reunion makes me puke.” “I love you too, legionnaire,” said Secret-Sting, as they retreated down the tunnel, each giving me the one-fingered salute. Lieutenant Perkins and I saluted back as we ran the other way. I stopped at the tunnel exit, pulled a small remote from my pouch, and pressed the button. A far off explosion filled the tunnel with dust and smoke.
“What did you just do?” asked Lieutenant Perkins.
“Hopefully I killed Secret-Sting and his idiot cousin,” I answered. “The galaxy will be a better place without those two adding to the gene pool. There were explosives in Secret-Sting’s vest.”
“That’s unethical,” said Lieutenant Perkins. “You made promises. What about the Super Bowl?”
“Shut up Perky,” I replied. “You are alive. That’s all that counts. I am transferring you to Mars because I can’t stand you anymore. Say hello to your dad for me. You’re a royal pain in the ass.”
“I won’t go,” said Lieutenant Perkins. “This is where I belong, in the Legion, fighting on the Frontier.”
My personal phone rang. Shit, I thought, answering my phone. “What?”
“I took that
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