Just as the Dirrillill was about to ease Jasper’s helmet off his head and bite into the boy’s skull, there was a loud beeping sound.
The Dirrillill rushed over to a panel and touched it.
“Someone else has arrived from your teleporter!” he said. “Your delightful mother, perhaps.” He chuckled to himself. “I’ve got to go check the screens and see who showed up for your welcome home party without RSVP’ing.”
Jasper lay there helplessly. There were still Big Gulp drinks on his knees.
The Dirrillill said, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to eat you. Nothing doing, ha ha. I would never eat you until I’m done using you. I am just trying to be convincing. You will want to help me fix that teleporter on Earth. There are lots of ways to convince you. I’ve already killed your two best friends. And now I suspect your dear momsy is here with us on Zeblion III. I won’t destroy her—if you agree to help me conquer Earth. She’ll make an excellent hostage. So: I’ll pop up to my control room to check if it’s her. You think carefully about who you want to save: your mother or your planet. Which do you love better, my son? Hmm?”
Then he left the room, humming happily, while Jasper lay on the counter, still unable to move.