“Make believe you’re in agony, idiot,” he said.
Donnaught groaned and moaned as convincingly as he could.
“You must stop!” the chief screamed. “It is terrible to kill another!”
“Then let me get some fuel,” Fannia said, tightening his grip on Donnaught’s throat.
The chief thought it over for a little while. Then he shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“You are aliens. If you want to do this disgraceful thing, do it. But you shall not profane our religious relics.”
Donnaught and Fannia staggered to their feet. Fannia was exhausted from fighting in the heavy space armor; he barely made it up.
“Now,” the chief said, “surrender at once. Take off your armor or do battle with us.”