by J. S. Volpe
* * *
“Please, General Blood, you must believe us,” Gaspard said. “It is your own people’s lives that are at stake.”
General Blood said nothing. He just continued looking at Gaspard and Merizen.
“Don’t listen to him,” said the slimy gorgim.
“Yes, he is a human liar,” said the short gorgim.
The General’s eyes narrowed. “But how can we be sure?”
Gaspard cleared his throat. “Well—”
Before he could unleash whatever bullshit he was about to spew out next—he himself didn’t even know; he did his best work extemporaneously—there were screams in the distance. They seemed to be coming from the village off to the south.
“What’s happening?” said the slimy gorgim.
“Something’s on fire!” Merizen said. “Look!” She pointed at the east end of the village, where an orange glow was rapidly growing brighter by the second.
“By Nün,” General Blood said. “What is happening?”
“It’s the terrorists!” Gaspard cried. “They’ve made their first strike! We must stop them before they can hit their other targets!” Inwardly he was smiling. This was going better than he could have planned. He thanked whoever or whatever had set those fires.
General Blood turned and glared at his two underlings. They shrank away.
“Don’t believe him, eh?” he thundered. “He can’t be trusted, eh?”
“But, General,” the slimy gorgim whined, “we—”
“Quiet!” General Blood looked again at the distant fire, his jaw clenching and unclenching, then said, “What other villages are under threat of attack?”
“All of them in this section of Umperskap,” Gaspard said.
The General grimaced. “Then we must act fast. Everyone come with me.” He fixed his white-on-black eyes on Gaspard and Merizen. “That includes you two.”
“But surely it would be better for all involved if we split up. That way we’d cover more territory and—”
“No.” He jabbed a finger at them. “You’re coming with us, and that’s final.”
“As you wish,” Gaspard said with a bow.
“You’re the General,” Merizen added with a broad, obsequious smile.
Inside both of them were thinking, Crap.
