The Galactic Crusade- The Complete Trilogy Read online

  I grumble and hand over three bolivares in coins. Narg wears a gown stained with blood. You can hear the animals squeaking and squealing under the counter. The cook’s face is riddled with skin cancer, the type of patient you’d see in the clinics.

  I once had a friend who had an illegal rat farm in his house so he could eat meat without regulation. Then, one day, I never heard from him again. When people disappear, you just assume they’re dead. I was once tempted to start a rat farm myself. I had caught a small one in my home and was thinking about keeping it for breeding. After thinking it through, I concluded it wasn’t worth it. Government has eyes and ears everywhere, and I know they’d know about my rat farm within a day.

  I bite the delicious tortilla-wrapped grilled rat. That crunch, the delicious juices, and the tortilla made just to the point of being soft and crunchy at the same time. I walk off daydreaming, enjoying meat for the first time in weeks. I’m halfway through the taco and notice something’s wrong. I peek over my shoulder. I’m being followed by three people. No, not the three guys from the kiosk. Other people.

  I’m not sure what this is about, but the only illegal thing I’ve done is talk smack about SLAV and daydream about joining up with ÆTAS. The latter alone could be enough to sentence me to instantaneous death by the Wasps.

  I hurry over to my apartment complex, taking a shortcut created by junk from the wars. I’m heading upstairs when I hear my name, “Argo! Stop! Argo!”

  I turn around expecting the worst, the half-eaten taco in my hand. A smile creeps up my face, and I feel the tension release from my body.

  “Carmen! Jorge! What’s going on?” There’s a third man with them, an Asian guy I’ve never seen. He looks healthy for a person in SLAV.

  “Argo! It took us long enough to find you,” says Carmen. She’s dressed like me, a poor citizen with whatever garment she found in her home to shield her skin from cold and fallout. A scarf is wrapped around her mouth and nose to stop pollution from getting into her lungs.

  She walks over. Her brown eyes glisten with courage and excitement. Her brown hair is tied in a ponytail. If I could see her curves and body, I would see powerful legs, a solid abdomen with a powerful core, and two firm and attractive small breasts. I’ve always liked her, ever since we met on the day we signed into medical school. I’ve tried winning her over. It’s been impossible. She calls me friend every time I try to make a move. Once I tried kissing her at a party. As soon as we touched lips, she stepped back and hugged me, calling me friend.

  “What’s up, Argo,” says Jorge with his hands on his hips. He’s never been troubled by the effects of pollution and radiation. He doesn’t mind the cold much. He’s always known he’ll eventually end up with lymphoma or lung cancer. He’s the type of guy who somehow knows he may not live long enough to care about lymphoma anyway.

  “Argo, it’s time. I think the SEDISU has word of our little discussions of going up north, and it’s only a matter of time before they come for us,” she says with fear in her eyes. If she’s afraid, then I’m definitely afraid.

  “What! So soon!” I yelp.

  “It is what it is. Hey, can I have a bite of that taco?” she says, taking the food from my hand and sticking it into her mouth before I can argue. She takes a huge bite. I cringe. I hate it when she does this. She gives me back a small piece with barely any meat left. Before Jorge can ask for a bite, I push the rest into my mouth and swallow it whole.

  “This is Xi,” says Carmen. The man named Xi steps forward and greets me with a nod. “He’s our pilot to freedom,” says Carmen.

  My heart races as I study Xi’s face. Clean. No skin cancer marks anywhere. Must be from anywhere but SLAV. Now it makes sense. He has to be one of those coyotes in the service of ÆTAS who get paid to bring in immigrants willing to take the offer of becoming a citizen for ten years of service. Coyotes are killed on the spot when caught. He could be trouble.

  Xi takes a hand to his ear and presses a small button on a device in his ear. His face goes pale and says with pressed words, “Guys! I’ve been warned that SEDISU soldiers are closing in on our position,” he says. “We have to leave now!”

  “What! So sudden! I need time to get ready!” I say, looking at my apartment, which is so close. The door is just right there, a few steps away.

  “There’s no time,” yells Carmen. “And none of your belongings matter anyway. All of that will get tossed once we enlist in the army.”

  “She’s right,” says Jorge, pulling me by the arm. “All the stuff you take is worthless to them. So better come now or die a meaningless death by a Wasp.”

  “Now or never!” says Xi, growing inpatient.

  We break into a run when the first buzzing sound is heard in the distance. It’s a patrol party, which could be searching for us. None of us wants to find out if that’s the case.

  Xi takes us to a wasteland cluttered with remnants from the war. After splashing in contaminated water and radioactive debris, we are suddenly inside a tunnel. We crawl as fast as possible, scaring off vermin in the process. I see a dead rat. I have the urge to take it with me but know I can't for fear of acute poisoning from rotten flesh. We are suddenly running in an old parking lot. After running up the several stories of stairs, we find ourselves at the ceiling of an old and broken building. We all pant.

  “Let’s go! Board the mastiff now!” yells a soldier in uniform with a rifle across his chest, standing in front of an ÆTAS warship. He called the ship a mastiff. A name I've never heard of. I have a few seconds to admire it. It's the size of a small bus and appears heavily armored. Its hull seems thick. It has two wings and a small tail, with a missile pod on each side, and a multi-cannon gun on its underbelly. Its four rotating jet nozzles pulse hot air in all directions, sending off small tornadoes of dust. This warship–mastiff–is much more advanced than the ones used by SLAV. I can tell by how the jet nozzles move. The warship is hovering very close to the ground!

  We get in the aircraft and two soldiers buckle us up in seconds. I notice there’s a guy already aboard when we get in. I have no time to look at him, but I know we’ll meet at some point. I’m now tight against the hull, pale and feeling refluxed pigeon burning my throat.

  “Go! Go! Go!” and suddenly we are flying at an incredible speed.

  —3—

  “This is the part of our escape that get’s dicey! Hold on!” yells the pilot.

  “Hold on, recruits!” echo the soldiers aboard.

  I instantly get nervous and tighten myself as best I can to the security belt. The hull is shaking and provides little comfort.

  “What’s going on?” asks Carmen. If she’s scared like I am, she’s hides it well.

  “The Megachine has a heavy patrol of autodrones roaming its skies at all moments. We have to fly low and fast to avoid detection. Once detected, we’re as good as dead,” says the guy who was already aboard when we got here.

  I look at him for a couple of seconds. He irritates me. Something about him makes me want to rebel against him. To say no to all his statements. To condescend to him so I can feel superior. And with a jolt I realize what I’ve thought, and my wanting to feel superior to him suddenly makes me feel inferior. Now I hate him even more. And we haven’t even met.

  He’s thin but athletic. He wears a simple tunic made of cotton with his forearms exposed, which are packed with veins from the ripped muscles underlying them. A poorly made tattoo is visible on his left forearm, a figure of a cross I do not recognize. He wears a simple farmer’s hat that shades his hawk’s gaze. This guy is a hunter. He is a warrior even while dressed as a simple field peasant. I’m a doctor, god dammit. And yet, this farmer is much more than I am. Who is he? He has brown skin, a square jaw, intense thick brows, and nothing seems to escape his intelligent eyesight. Bastard. As the seconds pass, I hate him even more, and I don’t know why.

  “Why do you know that. Pardon the question, buy you seem like a…farmer…?” says Carmen in an apologetic flirty tone. I f
eel a dagger plunged into my stomach. It hurts me to see Carmen flirting with others. She is the prettiest, hottest girl you’ll ever lay eyes on. Mario disagrees. To hell with that, to each his own.

  “I can’t escape the farmer stereotype, now can I?” he says jokingly. “My family used to have plenty of land way back before the Chavistas took over Latin America. We don’t own anything now, but at least we are allowed to work the fields of corn the government uses to feed its citizens. My family has sent recruits up north for almost thirty years now. When you turn twenty-five, you get to choose to either continue farming or enlist in the ISF. This is my choice, like my father, and his father. I’ll fight SLAV and the Megachine down to the last breath.”

  “Are you sure they take peasants in the army?” My question is loaded with venom. I want to sting this guy. Get away from Carmen!

  He whips his gaze toward me. I instantly cower down and can’t meet him in the eye. He stares at me for a long thirty seconds and then says with a chuckle and a light mood, “They’ll take anybody up there. They’re desperate for soldiers. Anybody who can pull a trigger and follow simple orders makes it in,” he explains.

  “ISF?” asks Carmen, ignoring me and my stupid question.

  “Immigrant Special Forces,” explains the farmer. “Believe me, there’s not much special about it. It’s the name they use for propaganda, you know, marketing. Makes it sound cool. Nothing special about it, really. It’s the army formed by every immigrant, no matter where you come from. But most come from Latin America. North America is ÆTAS territory. Anything east of the globe is gone. Western Europe is vaporized, a cemetery of radioactive fallout. Eastern Europe was overtaken by the Megachine. Everything else is owned by them, so there’s really not a whole lot of immigrants coming from any other part of the world.”

  Carmen is fascinated. I am pissed. Jorge, like Carmen, is in awe, listening to him speak. This guy does command attention, and does so naturally.

  “But I thought we would be part of the same army as the Ætians,” I say, sounding like a dweeb.

  “So does everybody else who doesn’t know what they’re getting into. ÆTAS has its own army by the name of ÆRMY. That shit’s closed for us immigrants. Hate to tell you.”

  This doesn’t sound good to me at all. I wanted to be part of ÆTAS in all senses. Not just an army of immigrants under its command. Suddenly I’m not so sure about this mission anymore. Maybe Mario was right all along.

  “My name’s Gabriel Perez,” says the farmer with a smile. “A pleasure, battle brothers to be.”

  “I’m Carmen Johnson.” She shakes hands with Gabriel. I burn in jealousy as they touch.

  “I’m Jorge Merida. And this grumpy guy is Argo Herrero. We were all doctors back in SLAV, or Megachine, however you call it nowadays. That career is behind us now. Right guys?”

  “Right!” says Carmen with enthusiasm. “I was so ready to get out of that forsaken hospital. It’s just so depressing. There’s no point in treating radiation-induced diseases when the government provides little aid to support the ill. The best way to cure the afflicted—and we’ll all develop lymphoma or leukemia at some point, don’t worry— is to bring the Megachine down and get medical support from ÆTAS. We need the nanotech to cure and prevent those illnesses.”

  The mastiff trembles. The machine gun roars, its flashing muscle painting the insides of the cabin pulsing death. The sound makes me tremble, the flash makes me jump. I try to get in a fetal position, impeded by the belt holding me tight to the hull. Seated, I stick my hands under my legs and close my eyes shut.

  Something whistles past us at incredible speed. The mastiff dips violently and turns sideways. The maneuver shakes my innards, and I can feel the grilled rat on my tongue. I swallow some vomit and do my best not to hurl.

  “Look! We’re being escorted by several stormbirds!” yells Gabriel with amazement. He can see them through the small windows. Carmen tries to see as well, but she’s limited by her position in the hull.

  “We’re safe now. We’ve cleared the skies patrolled by autodrones,” says the pilot. I see the other soldiers near the cockpit breathe with more ease. I can finally relax.

  A hologram takes form in the cockpit, suspended in mid-air at one side of the window. I see a military commander wearing a black beret. A long scar makes its way from his forehead, down his right eye and onto his cheek, like a dried-up river. On his left upper chest, I can make out four golden stars.

  “General Wrath! Lieutenant Xi, sir!” says the pilot as he salutes. I see the other soldiers in the cabin tensing up at the sound of the general’s name. Even Gabriel seems to have tensed up. None of us understand who this guy is or why he’s important.

  Lieutenant? I think to myself. And all this time I thought Xi was a coyote.

  “How many, Lieutenant?” asks the general with a stern voice. He seems despondent. Almost sad.

  “Only four. I know, too little, again,” says Xi.

  “It’s more than nothing. Rendezvous with transport at Rio Grande Checkpoint. The elephants will take care of them from there. Good luck in recruiting more.”

  “It’s getting harder, General. The SEDISU is getting better at tracking us,” says Xi.

  “Soon there won’t be need to recruit more. Wrath out,” and he disconnects. The hologram disappears.

  “Did you understand any of that,” asks Carmen looking at Gabriel. “Such lack of enthusiasm.”

  “Don’t know. I guess we’ll find out very soon.”

  ***

  The mastiff plunges and lands abruptly, jet nozzles sending off dust and vortices of wind. The doors on its side pop open with a jolt, allowing entry of the sterile winds of the wasted land. There are mountains around us, which makes me think they’ll protect us from autodrone attacks. I hope.

  “Red alert! Red alert!” yell the sirens. A red light pulses like hell suddenly opened its doors and was about to devour us.

  “Recruits! Disembark the mastiff and get to the elephant!” yells the soldier who is unbuckling us. He notices we’re petrified, especially me.

  “Follow that guy!” he says, pointing a finger at Gabriel, who’s already running through the wasteland toward the large transport ship amidst the gusts of wind.

  Carmen goes first, followed by Jorge and then me. I stick to Jorge as close as I can, covering my eyes to keep the dust out of my eyes. The smell of the forgotten invades my nostrils. The land is dead, and from the depths, a putrid smell surfaces. Perhaps it’s the radioactive decay in action, killing Earth’s soul.

  Two ÆRMY soldiers grab me by the arms and fling me inside the elephant. These guys are gigantic! I had never seen such big humans in my life.

  “Buckle up, recruits! Make haste or die! Let’s go! Move! Move! Move!”

  We run in desperation toward empty seats and buckle up as fast as possible. The door slides shut with a thump. Before I’m securely fastened up, the ship is already departing at full throttle.

  The elephant is gigantic, with a hundred or more recruits within its belly. It’s turbines roar and propel us slowly up into the air. I can feel that rat churning in my belly, and once again I feel the need to hurl. I know I shouldn’t have eaten that, but then again, it might have been my last bite of meat for a long time.

  ÆRMY soldiers are standing in front of us, buckled to the hull, leering at us as if we were lesser people. In some sense, we are. These soldiers appear too large to be the product of nature. Something tells me genetic manipulation bred such monsters.

  Their heads are too large, as are their bodies, to have come out of a mother’s womb. Well, unless their mothers were equally as large. Their muscles pop out of their green uniforms. Across their chests, a large assault rifle lays at the ready to punch through flesh and gears. I would guess if you have to fight machines with humans, you’d better get extra-large humans to be successful.

  Then why would ÆTAS need us, poor and lanky immigrants, as foot soldiers? If in fact ÆTAS has run out of resources,
they may well have only a handful of these super soldiers and can’t afford to lose them in battle. Better to lose some immigrant, right? Those bastards. Coming here was starting to seem even more of a mistake.

  “Welcome, recruits!” says a hologram that forms in mid-air above us. It’s big and blue in color. The sound is loud and booming, echoing within the main cabin.

  “ÆTAS is honored to have you. We greatly appreciate your sacrifice in joining our forces to battle the Megachine! Without your help, we would be lost. Welcome to the Allies Engaged against Totalitarianism And Socialism. You should feel proud of yourselves. Your parents would be proud of you as well, as would your countrymen, those who could not join our forces! You and you alone are the key to stop the menace that rages against our world! You are the solution! You are the mighty, the strong, and the brave! You will begin your military career among the ISF. May it be long. May it be victorious.”

  The hologram is a military guy, a sergeant or captain perhaps, wearing a beret, who speaks in a thick and loud voice. His sight is epic and seems to be staring at infinity.

  “Soldiers will begin walking among you for you to sign the contract that binds you to the ISF for ten years.”

  The gigantic soldiers begin to walk up to each seated immigrant, towering over each like a wolf atop a mouse. Each carries a digital pad and a digital pen where each immigrant signs his own contract with the ISF.

  “Sign here,” I’m told by the giant.

  I take the pad in my hands. My grandma used to say not to sign anything without reading the contract first. And I see no terms and conditions prior to signing. That makes me nervous.

  “Could I…is there a way…you know, I’d like to read the terms and conditions. Can’t just sign…blindly.”

  The soldier laughs a terrible mock and then give me a death stare, “Can you believe this rat-eater wants to read the fucking contract?”

  “What? That’s the first thing you received, probably years ago,” says a second soldier.