is impossible."

Ashamed of the desperate note that crept inadvertently into his voice,
Rothwell said, "Commander, will you let me, alone, briefly enter your
ship, so that I can tell my people what it is like?"

Aku and the lieutenant traded a long, silent look, then the lieutenant
almost imperceptibly shrugged his shoulders. Without moving, turned
partly away from Rothwell, Aku said, simply, "No." The two started to
walk back to the ship.

"Commander!"

They stopped, but didn't turn.

"Commander Aku, if you have any sort of God in your empire, or any sort
of honor that your race swears by, please tell me one thing--tell me
that our children will be safe, I won't ask you anything else."

The two aliens stood still, facing away from him, towards their ship.
Minutes passed. Rothwell stood quietly, looking at their backs, human
appearing, but hiding unguessable thoughts. Neither of them moved, or
said a word. Finally, he turned and walked away, back towards his heli.

He leaned back in the little heli's bucket seat and ran a large hand
through unruly yellow hair that was already flecked with white. The
first evening lights of Brooklyn and Queens and, off to the left,
Manhattan, moved unseen beneath him as the craft headed towards his
home. Dammit, he thought, is it that Aku just doesn't care what we
think, or that he cares very much what we would think if we knew
whatever it is he's hiding?

He banged his fists together in frustration. How the hell can anyone
guess what goes on in an alien mind? His whole damn brain is probably
completely different! Maybe to him a poker face is friendly. Maybe he's
honestly not hiding anything at all. He looked out as the heli slowly
started its descent. No evidence, he thought. Not a shred, except a
suspicious mind and, he glanced at the dirt on his trousers, and a shell
exploding in my face.

He slapped his hat back on and whirled to the surprised pilot. "Dammit,
I don't make the decisions, I'm just in charge of loading, and if the
President says it's okay, then it's okay with me!" He stepped out onto
the grass of his yard, and quashed a little shriek of conscience
somewhere in the back of his mind.

* * * * *

Blinding lights pinned him in mid-stride. A familiar voice sprang out of
the glare, "Here he is now viewers, General James Rothwell, commander of
the western armies, and head of the Earth evacuation project. General,
International-TV ca