America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 3: Silent Invasion by Walter Knight

not believe in either Hell or angels,”
said Private Wayne, adjusting his translation device. Sometimes the
meanings of word combinations got lost in translation. He accessed
the database. Hell’s Angels was an Old Earth criminal motorcycle
gang from California. Origins dated back to disaffected servicemen
(possibly airmen) from World War Two. The gang was exterminated
centuries ago by the United States Galactic Foreign Legion during
the California Unrest.
    Private Wayne viewed old photographs and
video. He saw Hell’s Angels patches and insignia. Private Wayne was
awestruck by the sight of hundreds of Hell’s Angels on motorcycles
rumbling down the middle of the road. He saw the brotherhood of it.
So what if he was a spider and the Hell’s Angels were just human
pestilence? The Hell’s Angels had a military origin, and that was
close enough for him. Private Wayne was determined to be a Hell’s
Angel.
    When the shuttles took the company to New
Memphis, Private Wayne had his motorcycle loaded on board. At first
the cargo master gave Private Wayne an argument about the Harley
being too heavy and a nonmilitary item, but the big spider slipped
him some cash, and all was forgotten.
    At New Memphis, Private Wayne paid to have
his motorcycle painted and chopped, like the bikes he saw in the
database. He cut the sleeves off an old Legion jacket and put
Hell’s Angels patches all over it, including the Winged Death Head
patch, and had ‘Hell’s Angels’ emblazoned across the back. ‘New
Colorado’ was also displayed, just under the Death Head.
    Private Wayne rode around New Memphis in his
new attire. He drew a few stares, mostly from people who had never
seen a spider on a motorcycle. The Hell’s Angels were ancient
history, so no one paid much attention to the lettering on his
back. Private Wayne read in the database that the mortal enemy of
the Hell’s Angels was the Mongols Motorcycle Gang. Being that there
were no biker bars in New Memphis, Private Wayne sought out the
toughest bar he could find to fight his own Mongols. Private Wayne
found a tavern called The Longshoreman. It had a sign at the front
door that said, ‘No Spiders Allowed.’ Private Wayne walked inside
and sat down on a barstool. The biggest ugliest human pestilence he
had ever seen immediately confronted him.
    “Can’t you read?” asked the giant human. “The
sign says no spiders allowed.”
    “So kick me out,” said Private Wayne. “Or are
you chicken?”
    “It is only out of respect for the Legion
uniform you are wearing that I don’t throw you through that
window,” said the giant. “I used to be in the Legion.”
    “Don’t let that stop you,” said Private
Wayne. “I have not killed in days. I am feeling the need
again.”
    The giant human felt a bit uncomfortable
about getting in a fight with an obviously unstable legionnaire
spider. Besides the sleeveless jacket covered with the odd patches,
the spider wore several knives. Bulges under his clothing partially
concealed handguns. Who knew what else this crazy spider
carried?
    “What is Hell’s Angels?” asked the giant.
“Are you a spider bible thumper? I don’t think anyone in here wants
to be saved.”
    “It is a motorcycle gang,” answered Private
Wayne.
    “I saw your bike when you pulled up,” said
the giant. “It’s a cool bike. But you must be crazy to come in here
with all your flash.”
    “So what is your point?” asked Private
Wayne.
    The giant backed away and settled at the end
of the bar in front of his drink. As he sipped his whiskey, the
giant punched ‘Hell’s Angels’ into the database. Several other
customers did the same. Then the giant came back over to Private
Wayne and tapped on his shoulder.
    “Finally work up the courage to try and kick
me out?” asked Private Wayne enthusiastically. “I knew I would find
my Mongol in here.”
    “I don’t know what a Mongol is,” said the
giant. “My name is Tiny. I am a longshoreman. I want to join