Chapter 3: The Rebels

I'm somewhat dismayed that this story has only been read a handful of times, and reviewed only by my fiancée, 2 friends and one loyal reader. I guess in my long absence, all of my former fans either left the site, or just forgot about me. Or maybe I've lost my ability to spin a good yarn. Please read and review. Notwithstanding my lack of readers, I will continue and finish this story. It is for all of the men who fought and died at Gettysburg that I'm writing this. So, whether it be preached to a crowded room, or whispered in the dark, this story will go on.

Zim strutted down the lane with Gir close behind. Totally oblivious to his surroundings, and not making an attempt to make sense of where or when he might be, the poorly disguised alien invader bombastically traipsed down the wide dirt road, complaining about his enemies.

"Stupid Dib-worm." He grumbled. "Always attempting to thwart my ingenious plans. I'll show him, oh yes, I'll show him." Zim said, shaking a fist. "Dib and Tak will rue the day they ever messed with Ziiiim!"

"Ya'll hold it!" A voice called angrily. Zim froze. He had walked right into the midst of 6 men. They were dressed in uniforms, most were grayish outfits, with two of the men wearing a brown-colored uniform. Definitely some type of soldiers, he realized. He was suddenly glad that he had remembered to activate his disguise.

"Zim holds nothing!" Zim cried angrily. His outburst was met by the cocking of 6 rifles.

"Son," One of the men with blue stripes on his grey jacket said. "If you don't kindly keep it down and act like a prisoner, I reckon we're gonna have ta shoot ya."

"Your pitiful weapons do not scare me!" Zim shouted. The man with the stripes on his sleeve fired his rifle. The shot thundered as the man shot a large branch from a tree, dropping it in front of Zim. "Er…okay, maybe they scare me a little." Zim said, cringing.

"Put up your hands, boy." The man said. Zim obliged. "Now you walked right into our picket line with the enemy all over the place, so we gotta take you to the general to see if'n you're a spy or not."

"The General…" Zim thought to himself. "Perfect opportunity to meet the leader of earth's defenses." He smiled at the man. "Very well." He said. "Let us go. Gir, come!"

"Sergeant Sanor?" One of the men asked.

"Ahh, the man in charge waved. "Let him take 'is dog with 'im." Zim was somewhat surprised that he wasn't handcuffed or otherwise bound. But then again, he was being led from all sides by six men with rifles, all with long blades attached to them, so running wasn't exactly an option worth considering.

"Sooo…" Zim said to the man in charge as they walked. "You're a soldier, I see." The sergeant, Sanor scoffed.

"I'd reckon so." He said.

"And…who is this general?" Zim asked.

"For a yankee spy, you ain't very bright, are ya?" Sanor said.

"Spy?" Zim replied. "Zim is no spy, and certainly not a yankee spy, whatever that is!"

"I figure as much myself. Them yankees'd want a spy to be a little quieter and a little smarter'n you." Zim clenched his teeth angrily. "But if you have to know, I was speakin' of my commandin' officer, General Pettigrew."

"So General Pettigrew is the general of your army?" Zim asked.

"Don't you know nothin'?" Sergeant Sanor spat. "Lee's the general of MY army. Pettigrew's just my brigade commander." Zim was absorbing the information on this strange army, when a man on a horse came galloping up. He wore a grey uniform, more neat in appearance than the soldiers who had captured Zim. On the collars of his coat, he wore blue patches with two gold stripes. He reined his horse to a stop.

"Sergeant Sanor!" He called, seeming to stare holes in all the men, and glowering at Zim. "What was that fire?"

"Lieutenant H Harmon," Sanor said, saluting. "We captured this strange boy tryin' to cross our picket line, sir."

"And who did you SHOOT?" The officer asked impatiently.

"We didn't shoot nobody, sir." Sanor replied. "I fired a warning shot's all."

"Sergeant," Harmon growled. "The Yankees could be a damned stones throw away, god knows where. You are NOT to fire unless it's to put the lead into somebody, am I understood?"

"Yes sir." Sergeant Sanor said like a child being punished.

"We are NOT to give away our position." Harmon added. He looked at Zim. "And what of your prisoner?"

"I figured I'd take 'im to the General to see what he wanted to do with him. I don't reckon he's a spy, but it's better to be safe than sorry, sir." The lieutenant nodded.

"I'll take him myself." Harmon said. He nodded at Zim. "Son, Climb on." Two of the soldiers helped Zim onto the horse. Zim sat nervously on the animal, never having ridden a beast before. One of the soldiers held up Gir, and Zim quickly grabbed him before the disguised robot could do something stupid and give them away. The lieutenant spurred the horse, and they were quickly on their way.

As they rode, Zim noticed a couple more "pickets" as the group who had captured him had been called. They stood at attention and saluted as the lieutenant rode by. Zim couldn't help but like lieutenant Harmon a little. Everyone so far saluted him, and he yelled at everyone a lot, qualities Zim thought important in a military officer.

Soon, they came to a mass of soldiers, all carrying rifles, standing in loose formations. Zim recognized what this was: a military expedition preparing to march. Despite the fact that they were using what Zim considered ineffective and obsolete weapons, he couldn't help but be impressed at the hundreds of men in rectangular formations with the long rifles, the squads of horsemen with their long gleaming swords, and the huge cannons, their bores staring out ominously like vacant yet all-seeing eyes.

"Ain't it something?" Lieutenant Harmon asked, speaking to Zim for the first time.

"Yes…QUITE impressive." Zim replied.

"There's a fight coming soon, and we're gonna take the fight to the enemy, and win this thing once and for all." Zim was about to ask what the fight was about, when the lieutenant stopped in front of a group of more mounted officers and saluted. An older man in a meticulous light grey uniform with gold braiding forming loops high up onto the sleeves saluted back. He had a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, dark brown, but starting to turn grey, showing his age.

"General Pettigrew, sir." Lieutenant Harmon said.

"Lieutenant, any news from our pickets?" General Pettigrew asked. The way he spoke and conducted himself was that of a man of intelligence and means.

"Sir, Sergeants O'Brian and Smith report nothing but some militia moving into town from the south. I don't believe that they are aware of our whereabouts." Lieutenant Harmon reported.

"If the stupid enemy isn't aware of your position," Zim said. "You should surround them, and crush them like a moose crushes walnuts!" General Pettigrew looked at Zim and smiled.

"And who is this young strategist?" He asked.

"A prisoner captured by Sergeant Sanor, Sir." Harmon replied. "Trying to cross a picket line. He may be a spy."

"I see." Pettigrew said. "What is your name, lad?"

"Zim." Zim simply said.

"Ah…just Zim, eh?" The general remarked. "I'm General James Pettigrew, formerly of the University of North Carolina. How come you to find our army?"

"Eh?" Zim asked.

"Why were you out stumbling through our pickets?" Harmon translated.

"Oh, that…" Zim said. "I was just out…walking my dog. Can't a normal human child walk down a road without getting captured by an army?"

"I'm afraid this war has had an even larger cost than human lives…" Pettigrew said. "It's changed everything." He sighed. "Hopefully, this will be the last battle. Then we won't have to lose anymore."

"Philosophies are best left for after the battle, Mr. Pettigrew." A voice said. Two horsemen rode up to the group. The one who had spoken was a tall man with a black moustache and black hair, slicked back underneath one of the strange grey caps most of the men wore, only his headgear was covered in gold braid. On each lapel of his grey coat was three gold stars. The other man was an older man with a full brown and white beard, who wore a wide, floppy black hat with a gold band. He had a baggy grey coat draped across his broad shoulders, with gold stars on his collar.

"General Heath. General Hill, sir." Pettigrew said, saluting. Harmon and the other soldiers saluted as well. The two newly arrived generals returned the salutes.

"General Heath," The older general said. "Since there doesn't seem to be a pressing force in Gettysburg, I instruct you to take your division into town along the Chambersburg Pike. We still need shoes for the men, and we had best get them whilst the enemy is still tented up in bivouac at Middleburg."

"Sir, If there is no objection, I will take my division tomorrow and get those shoes." The other general, who Zim figured as Heath said. He turned to Pettigrew. "Sir, I put your men in the front of the line. Your brigade will be in charge of reconnoitering and deploying skirmishers." Pettigrew saluted.

"Wait…you're invading a town to get…shoes?" Zim asked.

"Yes, young man," General Hill said. "I suppose the secret is out." The other men smiled or chuckled a bit. "Our men are without much provisions, and we feel it's prudent to liberate some footwear from this town while we have the opportunity.

"General Heath, sir." Pettigrew said to the dark haired commander. "I have with me here a lad picked up by one of my pickets. Though it's unlikely he's a federal scout, no one seems to know exactly what to do with him." Heath looked at Zim a moment and sighed.

"I suppose he can ride to the rear with me." Heath replied. "Well lad," He said to Zim. "Looks like you're coming back to headquarters for a while."

"Yeah, sure, okay." Zim replied. 'Finally,' he thought to himself, 'an opportunity to meet the general of this army, and once I get him under my control, I can conquer this world with my new army of humans!'

"Lieutenant," Heath ordered. "help the boy onto my horse." The two men transferred Zim and Gir onto General Heath's great black horse. "General Hill, Sir." Heath said to the other commander. "Shall we retire to camp now, sir? The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania has allotted us a good deal of liberated chickens and fresh bread."

"I believe I will do so, General." Hill replied with a smile. He saluted Pettigrew and the officers. "Carry on, general."