Nicola looked around her to check on how all the other platoon captains were doing.
Sean was trying to make his platoon do push-ups without much success. There was a lot of theatrical groaning and collapsing.
To Nicola's surprise, Katie was speaking extremely sternly to her music platoon. "We're going to practice again," she said. "Again and again.Until we get it perfect."
Tyler's sculptors were working hard, as were Henry's painters. Meanwhile, Greta's writers and poets seemed to be . . . crying. Oh dear.
Nicola hurried over to see what was going on.
"I don't know what's wrong with them," snapped Greta when she saw Nicola approach.
"She said my beautiful words were garbage,'" sobbed one of the poets.
"I don't think writers handle criticism very well," said Nicola quietly to Greta. "You need to be more encouraging."
She turned to Greta's platoon.
"You are the best and most talented writers and poets in the galaxy!" she told them. "You write exquisitely! Your words can help win this war! Please, do not give up! We need you!"
The writers and poets sniffed, wiped their eyes, picked up their pencils, and got back to work.
"Thank you, Nicola," said Greta sincerely. "That was very helpful of you."
Nicola was a bit thrown by Greta's uncharacteristic gratitude but she didn't have time to think about it because at that moment she heard a sound like the beating of a drum in the distance. "What's that?"
One of the Whimsian writers looked up from his notebook.
"It's the sound of marching boots," he said. "The Volcomanian army must be close."
Nicola looked up at the sky and saw that Whimsy's giant sun had sunk even lo
wer in the sky.
Icy fingers of fear caressed her neck.
The battle was about to begin.
CHAPTER 35
It was sunset on the Planet of Whimsy. The sky was the color of crushed strawberries.
Or the color of blood.
Nicola shivered.
"Are you chilly?" said Princess Petronella.
"I'm fine." Nicola lowered her binoculars.
She and the princess were standing on a small, rocky outcrop on the side of a mountain above the Sublime Valley. It was a perfect vantage spot to observe the army below.
The Volcomanian tanks had rolled into the valley just before sunset, along with what seemed like thousands of soldiers marching in straight-backed, stiff-armed formation. Their boots and buttons shone. Their weapons were slung over their shoulders at the same angle. This was an army that knew exactly what it was doing.
Nicola held her portable radio provided by XYZ40 close to her mouth.
"Come in, Shimlara," she said, feeling self-conscious. "Over."
Shimlara, Georgio, and Squid had a hiding spot lower down the mountain, where they were close enough to see the soldiers' faces so they could read their minds.