TUESDAY TIPS AND TIDBITS - Seasonal Science Fiction Humor

SCIENCE FICTION HUMOR

Here's a bonus short story about Santa in the alien futuristic world of Walter Knight's AMERICA'S GALACTIC FOREIGN LEGION military scifi series. This short story appeared at the end of BOOK 11: CEMETERY CITY. (Warning: Some adult colorful language.)

Enjoy...

A Galactic Christmas Story

Arthropodan planetary defense radar systems confirmed what light diffraction sensors had detected days ago. A lone alien spaceship, probably of human design, was inbound from human pestilence space. The craft evaded pursuing space fleet and planetary fighter interceptors approaching the remote north polar region, emitting gold and silver tinsel chaff to avoid radar and missiles.

Alarmed and angry, the Emperor broke the glass case containing the cherry red hot-line communications device, a direct emergency line to the President of the United States Galactic Federation.

“What new reckless adventurism are you up to this time?” accused the Emperor, watching a sleepy President appear on the monitor screen. “Trespassing on our home world will not be tolerated. Extreme measures will be taken!”

“What?” asked the President. “I do not know what you are talking about. Do you know what time it is? Explain yourself!”

“You dare deny your provocations? Our entire space fleet is on alert. If any harm comes from your continued irresponsible behavior, I will hold you personally liable. I will hold all of humanity responsible.”

“Your Majesty, my commanders are briefing me of the situation as we speak,” replied the President, looking down at a flash message just handed to him by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “They assure me there are no ongoing special projects anywhere near Arthropoda.”

“You admit you spy on us!”

“Now, see here,” replied the President, testily. “You wake me up on Christmas Eve with outlandish accusations from light years away, and expect me to just drop everything and take it?”

“Yes!”

“Fuck you!” shouted the President, hanging up.

* * * * *

The President immediately regretted his outburst of temper. Aides turned away, pretending to have not heard.

“Get the Emperor back on the line, and make the necessary diplomatic apologies,” he ordered. “Blame misunderstandings and a faulty translation device, and sun spots.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the nearest general.

“Christ, man! I don’t need this nonsense. The elections are less than a year away, and the press breathes down my neck every time I turn around. Put our space fleets on alert.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The last thing I need is another diplomatic flap with those damn spiders. What do you think the Emperor is up to now?”

“The Emperor is under domestic pressure to institute parliamentary reforms,” advised the Director of the CIA. “The fool is pandering to his public to cause a distraction. He wants to preserve the absolute power of the Monarchy as long as possible.”

“I knew it!” exclaimed the President. “Freedom and democracy is not in their DNA. That will be their downfall. Alert our allies.”

* * * * *

“Your Majesty, the bogey just changed direction, and is now flying at treetop level in an attempt to avoid detection,” advised a spider general. “The craft is headed straight for Capital City.”

“Do something!” demanded the Emperor, wringing his claws and pacing. “Our capital must me protected at all costs.”

“Perhaps we should take shelter below the palace, suggested the general. “The Americans always attack command and control centers. They think they can shock-and-awe us.”

“The human pestilence president seemed surprised by my call,” commented the Emperor. “I can read their faces. Every lie is given away by muscle twitches and eye movement. Their president might be telling the truth.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, but I suspect a ruse.”

“I want confirmation of who, or what, is attacking us. If we are at war, I want to know who we fight. It could be those pervert scorpions causing trouble again!”

“Interceptors will make visual contact shortly,” advised the general, in constant communication with planetary defense forces. “Satellites images will soon be available, too.”

As if on queue, sonic booms shattered windows as the interceptor jets flew overhead.

“Your Majesty,” interrupted a staff officer. “Our pilots report receiving human pestilence radio communications. I am putting the transmissions on audio speaker.”

Immediately the speaker erupted with a cheery human pestilence male voice. “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas and goodwill to all galactic species!”

“Veer away from Capital City,” responded the lead pilot. “We will direct you to a safe zone where you will land your craft and surrender. Resistance is futile!”

“I knew it was the human pestilence all along!” shouted the Emperor, pounding his desk. “Devious devils!”

“It appears the Americans are broadcasting seditious propaganda on our frequencies,” advised the general. “It is a common diversionary tactic. They hope the peasantry will rise up in revolt.”

“Nose-counters would think that,” agreed the Emperor. “There is a lesson to be learned here from their weakness.”

“Oh, my God!” radioed the pilot, panicked. “We are being hit by a blinding red light!”

“Ho, ho, ho! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen! We must deliver presents and good cheer down chimneys before dawn!”

“Did you hear that?” asked the Emperor. “They target chimneys! A whole squadron of human pestilence attacks our civilian population centers! Shoot them all down, now!”

* * * * *

“Mr. President, I am putting through our ambassador from Arthropoda with an emergency message.”

“Mr. President? Ambassador James Yamashita here. Uh, bad news, sir. I fear this day will live in infamy. The spiders just shot down Santa Clause.”

“Those bastards! Any hope of survivors?”

“No, sir.”

“Not even those cute reindeer?”

“No, sir. It was horrible!”

“Rudolph is dead?”

“Sir, they nuked Santa!” exclaimed Yamashita, weeping. “What do we do now? Cancel Christmas? What about the holiday sales? My wife is already camped outside Walmart. There will be no new and improved Kindles delivered this Christmas for anyone!”

“Dump all of my Amazon.com stock shares,” ordered one of the generals, immediately on the phone to his broker.

“Ambassador Yamashita, deliver your diplomatic credentials to the spiders. You are immediately recalled to Earth. I intend to ask Congress for a Declaration of War against the Arthropodan Empire.”

* * * * *

“Ho, ho, ho! Kill Santa? That’s a good one! Bring nukes to a magic fight? Ho, ho, ho! Bad idea! Ho, ho, ho! Let’s move it, Dasher and Dancer! Pick up the pace, Prancer and Vixen! We’ve got hundreds of thousands of more Kindles to deliver tonight!”

###

TUESDAY TIPS AND TIDBITS - Book 12 of the AGFL series just released

America's Galactic Foreign Legion

Book 12: The Ark

by Walter Knight
Science Fiction / Political Humor

When a huge ship is found buried deep beneath a desert oasis in an unpopulated area of New Colorado’s New Gobi Desert, the race is on between the United States Galactic Federation and the Arthropodan Empire to claim its secrets. General Manny Lopez simply wants to loot the technological treasure. However, the spiders believe the ship is the mythical Ark from their tales of old.

As Caldera Lake is suddenly overrun by the Galactic Foreign Legion and spider marines setting up camp on opposite sides of the line of demarcation running through the middle of the lake, it’s soon discovered that the tranquil looking oasis does not offer a relaxing resort setting. Something’s swimming in the lake, and it’s hungry. Despite the danger, hotels and restaurants spring up to handle the influx of tourists and the curious making pilgrimages to catch a glimpse of the Ark.

The race between the two sides continues amid disagreements and skirmishes unavoidable in a clash of cultural differences. But it’s all done in a sportsmanlike manner – at least that’s what Colonel Joey R. Czerinski ‘The Toe’ and General Manny ‘The Ear’ Lopez claim.

Hungry crocs, graffiti taggers, midnight commando raids, tawdry torture, and lots of fried chicken all take a turn fueling the laughter in this twelfth tale of the seriously silly military space saga.

Contains the novella Vampire in the Outfield, first time in print!

EXCERPT:

Chapter 1

I am Colonel Joey R. ‘The Toe’ Czerinski of the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion, assigned to planet New Colorado. They call me ‘The Toe’ behind my back because my big toe was bitten off during combat by an alien, earning me another Purple Heart. The truth is that the incident did not take place during combat, but rather during a compromising situation I prefer not to discuss, because I don’t remember that much about it. While I’ve sustained plenty of injuries, not all of them in combat, I’ve endangered my life enough that the Purple Heart commendation is deserved – just not for the incident of record.

After several wars, New Colorado remains divided at the Equator between humanity to the South and the spiders of the Arthropodan Empire to the North. Vast stretches of border are uninhabited, covered with desert dunes. The desert is where I find myself now...

* * * * *

I was ordered to investigate a weak alien distress beacon, of the type found on some starships. It emitted a signal from the vicinity of Caldera Lake, a long narrow oasis straddling the border a thousand miles from civilization. Caldera Lake was formed centuries ago from ancient glacial ice trapped atop a volcano buried by shifting sands. The oasis and its palms were a stark contrast to the miles of surrounding desert. Standing in the shade of a Legion shuttle for relief against the stifling heat, I gazed out at the calm waters of this odd isolated lake.

“There’s nothing here,” I complained. “This mission is a waste of time.”

“The New Gobi Desert tourist guide says Caldera Lake has fish,” advised Lieutenant Perkins, checking the database on his pad.

“Is the water drinkable?” I asked, stripping off my uniform for a swim. As always, the New Gobi Desert temperature was at least 110 degrees. “There is nothing here for us to find, unless something crashed and is hidden in that lake.”

“The water is slightly salty,” advised Lieutenant Perkins, still reading. “We need to filter the water before drinking. There may be unknown parasites.”

“Whatever,” I said, jumping in. “The water is great! It’s warm, but soothing.”

Lieutenant Perkins frowned as he continued reading. “Sir! It says something about crocs!”

At first, the word ‘crocs’ didn’t quite register in my brain. “Crocs?” I asked. “What do you mean crocs? Are you talking about those big water lizards in the tropics, with all the crooked teeth?”

“Sir! Get out of the water! Do it now!” Lieutenant Perkins began firing his assault rifle over my head into the ripples behind me. I treaded water as fast as possible, looking back but seeing nothing.

“What was that all about?” I asked upon reaching shore. “There are no crocs here.”

“False alarm,” replied Lieutenant Perkins. “I just shot up a log floating just below the surface.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” I ordered. “I can’t even get a good swim without you ruining it for me! Damn rookie butterball lieutenants!”

As I cursed Perkins, another shuttle landed on the next dune, just across the border. Spider marines poured down its ramp, smartly establishing a secure perimeter. An Arthropodan officer strode up to me like he owned the place.

“Czerinski! You and your human pestilence are trespassing!” announced the spider commander. “Leave now!”

“We are on our side of the border,” I replied, still dripping wet from my swim. “The Legion will leave when it pleases us to do so, not before!”

The spider commander pulled a small electronic device from a pouch. Holding the device over his head, he shot a red light beam along the ground, east and west for fifty yards. The beam extended across the dunes, and even across my bare feet.

“This line shows the exact location of the border!” explained the spider commander, still holding the device aloft. “You will not trespass even one inch on Imperial territory!”

I took an exaggerated step back. “Are you happy now?”

“No!” replied the spider commander. “I am never happy when you show up. What are you human pestilence doing out here? Stealing our water?”

“We’re busted,” I said. “I drank some of your precious water a few minutes ago. Do you want it back?” Already naked, I urinated across the red line. The light flickered and went out as the spider commander jumped back to avoid being doused. “This place is worthless anyway.”

“I ought to cut your hose off!” shouted the spider commander, drawing a large jagged combat knife. “Tell me the truth! What treachery is the Legion up to now?”

“I am scouting this beautiful beachfront property to determine its suitability for building a new hotel casino resort,” I confessed. “So far, I love the view, and the fine swimming. You should consider investing. There will be a substantial real estate boom. Soon, this whole beach will be lined with casinos and condos.”

“You better remember the North Shore is ours. There will be no human pestilence casinos or condos on the North Shore!”

“Of course,” I agreed. “I was just giving you a heads up because you are my friend. I intend to buy five-acre lots as soon as possible. If you snooze, you lose when it comes to real estate investments.”

“Why are you naked? You human pestilence are ugly enough with your clothes on. Without clothes, you are disgusting. Get dressed immediately. You will stay clothed at all times when visible from the Empire.”

“Did I tell you our new casino resort will be a nudist colony?” I asked. “Naked gamblers from across the galaxy will flock to this very oasis for carefree fun and frolicking.”

“For debauchery, you mean!” accused the spider commander. “There will be no frolicking in public view. You human pestilence are all a bunch of perverts! Don’t think I don’t know how you lost your toe. I saw the video on the database of you having sex with a scorpion.”

“Not another word! You slander me at your own peril! Do you want to start another war?”

“Yes!” answered the spider commander. “I’ll fight you any place, any time!”

“Now listen here,” I replied, the voice of reason. “We both have a mission, so let’s not makes things more difficult. Caldera Lake could be a cushy assignment, and we need to make the best of it. For example, I just got out of the water from a swim. The water is great! It’s so relaxing. Research indicates the high mineral content has medicinal qualities. You should try swimming. A swim might help lower your high blood pressure.”

The spider commander peered suspiciously at the calm lake water, still keeping several eyes on me. “Are there indigenous creatures inhabiting that lake?”

“The fishing is great. There are small water lizards that frequent the shallows. They’re quite friendly. Crocs are a favorite pet among children of Old Earth. The crocs like to bump against your leg while you wade. Don’t worry. If they get too aggressive, just swat them on the nose. If that doesn’t work, poke the croc in the eye with your bloody stump!”

“Your Old Earth pets have no business out in the wild. They are like their masters, an invasive nuisance species always sticking their snouts across the line where they do not belong!”

* * * * *

At midday, the temperature soared to 120 degrees. The spider commander and his new Military Intelligence officer waded cautiously deeper into the lake. With Arthropoda being a dry planet, swimming was a novel and refreshing experience. Maybe Czerinski was finally telling the truth about something. The spider commander kneaded his foot claws in the mud, contemplating the medicinal qualities of the so-called mineral water.

The spider commander spied a croc slowly drifting closer like a log. Its nose and eyes appeared just above the water’s surface, leaving a small ripple in its wake. Closer, closer. “Old Earth vermin!” shouted the spider commander, swatting the croc on its snout. The croc lunged its huge head out of the water, snatching the spider commander’s claw. The croc violently pulled the spider commander under, beginning its death roll. The spider commander was saved only when his claw snapped off, allowing his escape to shore.

* * * * *

“That monster was never a child’s pet you lying, treacherous human pestilence!” accused the spider commander, shaking his bloody shredded stump at me across the lake. “I’ll get you for that!”

“Quit whining!” I yelled back. “Your claw will grow back! You’ll be okay when the pain stops! Did you poke it in the eye?”

* * * * *

The spider Military Intelligence officer accessed ‘crocs’ on the Intergalactic Database. “The human pestilence nearly hunted crocs to extinction on Old Earth to make boots and wallets from hides. It is true that baby crocs were once sold to children at pet stores, but the crocs often were flushed down toilets as they got larger. Abandoned, the crocs survive by eating floating turds in sewers under major USGF cities.”

“That monster was never anyone’s pet!” repeated the spider commander, firing his pistol at a ripple in the water. The croc dived out of sight.

###

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