America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 22: Blue Powder War Read Online Free Page A

happen! The explosion was deafening, and loud. Private Knight opened the cell door to find a gruesome scene of dead and twitching bodies. Ferguson and Grabowski were dead. There was a hole in the wall. The Polish Cartel kingpin Aaron Kosminski had escaped.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Spider marines escorted Tony Higuera to the border crossing gate. I met Higuera along with members of the press.
    “Welcome back to America,” I said, shaking hands. “The good news is, you’re free. The bad news is, Kellogg fired you.”
    “The bad news is I’m suffering from the DT’s,” complained Higuera. “I need a beer. I did nothing wrong. I want my union rep.”
    “There’s an opening at United Parcel Service,” I offered. “They pay good.”
    “I’m going back to driving beer trucks.”
    “Sorry, you need Teamsters connections for the good jobs.”
    “No problem, I’m a personal friend of union thug Carlos O’Neil.”
    “Were you probed?” interrupted Phil Coen of Channel Five World News Tonight. “How are you going to deal with being violated?”
    “I was not probed,” answered Higuera testily.
    “Are you sure? Were you unconscious at any time during your alien abduction?”
    “Yes, but that means nothing.”
    “Did you dream about being probed?”
    “Maybe a little, but I always do.”
    “So you were probed?”
    “Yes, I mean no! I’d know it if I was probed. I don’t roll that way.”
    “Is the Legion going to scan you for baby aliens hiding in your stomach?”
    “Now see here,” threatened Higuera, fists clenched, stepping toward Coen. “Enough with the pervert questions. I’m fine. They roughed me up a bit, but I’m fine.”
    “So you say. What about sand mites? Will you be quarantined?”
    “No,” I advised. “Mr. Higuera will be debriefed and released. The matter is closed.”
    “I’m broke,” complained Higuera, away from the cameras. “I have no job. What’s to become of me?”
    “That could be a problem,” I agreed. “There are laws against unemployment along the DMZ. Are you sure you don’t want to be a UPS driver?”
    “Oh, hell no. I don’t like those sissy brown shorts they wear.”
    “Do you know how to paint?”
    “What’s to know?”
    “Congratulations, I’m drafting you into the Legion.”
    “What? I don’t think so.”
    “Private McQueen can teach you to paint,” I suggested, pointing to Tonelli’s half-painted guard shack. “We paint everything Legion sage tan.”
    “This ain’t legal.”
    “Of course it is. I see fun, travel, and adventure in your short future. The Legion has a great medical plan, so don’t worry, we’ll get rid of most of your sand mites.”
    “I am not joining the Foreign Legion,” protested Higuera. “You can’t force me. No one punks me like this.”
    “You’re not joining,” I explained patiently. “You are being drafted. There’s a big difference. If you had joined like most legionnaires, I’d have been forced to pay you an enlistment bonus. But now, you’re joining for free.”
    “I want the bonus.”
    “Did you just say you want an enlistment bonus?” I asked, handing Higuera an enlistment contract.
    “How long is the enlistment?” asked Higuera, warily signing. “Two or three years?”
    “Ha! You’re in for the duration.”
    “How long is that?”
    “No one knows. It’s probably until galactic peace breaks out. I’m an officer, and they won’t even tell me how long.”
    “I think I’m screwed.”
    “I think so, too, Private Higuera.”
    “Which is worse?” asked Coen, eavesdropping. “Being probed by aliens, or probed by the Legion?”
    “Probed by the Legion. I didn’t even get a kiss.”
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 5
     
    Kosminski burrowed across the DMZ to an Arthropodan neighborhood known as the Web, a lawless blue powder den of iniquity populated by crack-spiders, Fist and Claw terrorists, and drug cartels.
    Legion armor massed at the border in unprecedented cooperation with spider marines staging