A Tangled Web

Sgts. Horvath and Potts squared off against two fierce looking soldiers outside a camp on the Great Hungarian Plain, circa 400 A.D. They had been sent back to this time and spot from the future to assassinate a Hunnic prince named Mundzuk, the father of the yet unborn Attila the Hun. The mission was to remove him prior to his siring Attila, thus giving that area of the world the opportunity to move forward without the influence of that infamous warlord.

These Hun soldiers were in the service of Mundzuk as personal bodyguards and took their responsibilities very seriously. Before anyone even spoke, the guard on the left drew his sword. Sgt. Horvath drew his blaster and, well, blasted the guard into a fine pink mist. The guard's sword and the metal in his clothing thumped to the ground and the mist that had been him settled slowly after it. The remaining guard started to draw his sword but stopped open mouthed as Sgt. Horvath was suddenly no longer there. In an eye blink, he had disappeared!

The guard had no idea what had happened here, but he was a professional and quick to pick up on the recognition, and then indecision, that played over Sgt. Potts' face. He arched an eyebrow and gave Potts a "feeling lucky?" look. Potts decided that, no, he didn't feel lucky at all, and that just maybe this would be a good time to check in with his captain back home for further instructions.

As he withdrew the remote that would send him home, a scruffy little girl of about ten years of age lifted the bottom of the tent flap she was behind and took aim with her slingshot. Her aim was true; the stone she released struck Sgt. Potts square on the forehead. First wide-eyed with surprise, he then slumped unconscious to the ground.

The remaining guard took this opportunity to relieve Sgt. Potts of both his blaster and his remote. He knew what the blaster could do; he was a weapons person. A couple of quick practice shots and he had the basic operation of it. The remote, however, was a puzzle.

As sometimes happens, the Imp of the Perverse was around to make things more interesting. The guard's thumb went unerringly to the button in the lower right corner. One touch and he was heading to a future he could not possibly imagine. The Imp grinned thinking about the guard's arrival at Event Modification Headquarters with a blaster he knew how to use and a determined little girl with a slingshot hanging tightly to his leg, but this dog's breakfast wasn't finished just yet.

"Guards! Where are my guards?" bellowed Prince Mundzuk, stomping angrily from his tent.

Just as the Imp had led the guard's thumb to the correct button on the remote, Sgt. Potts had somehow fallen directly onto the handle of the disintegrated guard 's sword, causing the blade to be pointed up at such an angle that when Prince Mundzuk tripped over the fallen Potts, he impaled himself on it.

Mission accomplished, Sgt. Potts. It wasn't pretty, but it still goes down as a win in the win/loss column. No need to neaten up; it'll be some administrative lackey's job to put some lipstick on this pig.

THE END

Bio: Mr. Dorman has been a voracious reader for 60 years.  Since his retirement, he has also become a voracious writer and has poetry and flash fiction published recently in a number of online literary journals. His last Aphelion appearance was Flies in our August 2014 issue.

E-mail: Roy Dorman

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