Here's lookin' at Sioux.

<snip>... Alex had grabbed his arm and the small group was following the messenger back, presumbly to the camp. </snip>

“Did someone use the device? Why are we here?”
Nobody answered him they just trudged along behind the messenger, lost in their own thoughts.
“You do know what happened at Little Bighorn, right?” Phi said, quietly, concern in her voice.
Plisken nodded. “Yup. Native Americans beat Custer's men.”
“Cool,” Phil shrugged “which side are we on?”
“Custer's” Alex murmured, eyeing the uniformed messenger.
“Great.”
“Should we make a run for it?” Hissed Phi.
“Eh?” Plisken frowned, straining to hear. “What did you say?”
“Shh. She said 'shall we make a run for it?' But-”
“What? Speak up, sonny.”
Alex double took at “sonny”. Mind you, Plisken was looking quite a bit older, now he came to think of it...
“I wouldn't mind running.” Phil said. “Could be a laugh.”
“Don't think that's a good idea.” Alex nodded towards the mounted messenger. “He looks a bit unstable.”
“But if we stay with him, lots of angry Native Americans are going to... hurt us.” Phi pointed out.
“Hey, what are you whispering about back there?” The messenger snapped. “Come on.”
They came up onto a ridge where a group of men were locked in intense conversation, several of them were poring over a map.

“Here are the scouts, sir.” The messenger addressed a man sitting on a large horse with his back to them, peering across the valley below. Man and horse turned slowly. A wide hat topped an arrogant face, long hair and a thick moustache, it was General George A. Custer.
Despite himself, Alex felt a shudder of... something. Excitement? The Battle of Little Bighorn was one of the tales his dad had told him and Jacob. There might even be Solvays here somewhere... he cast his gaze around at some of Custer's men before his eyes came to rest on the General once more.
“These are scouts?” He was saying.
“Uh... yes, sir.”
He squinted disdainfully down at them for an uncomfortably long moment, before his brain apparently just accepted the fact.
“Well the other scouts have reported an encampment but they've clearly exaggerated its size.” At this remark, the messenger's eyes opened wide. Custer continued. “I don't want to delay. It's time we attacked.”
“What, now? Isn't that a little early?” The messenger spluttered.
“Yes, now. Do you not trust in your general? And don't use that tone with me or I'll see you whupped for insubordination. ”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Men!” Custer barked. Phi frowned. “Prepare for imminent attack. You...” he motioned to a select few of the assembled people, including the Dwarfers “will strike with Reno.”
“Oh, this isn't good.” Said Plisken.
Phil shot him a look. “Ya think?”
“But this is a simulation after all,” Plisken continued “maybe we can change things. A few things don't quite add up already, I-”
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Alex made a 'time out' signal with his hands. “What did you say?”
“Maybe we can change things.”
“Before that.”
“Oh. This is a simulation.”
“This is a simulation? How do you know?”
“Oh the 'aliens' said. We might be on TV.” He waved to the 'unseen cameras'.
“Aliens? Unbelievable.” Phil threw up his hands in frustration.
“We're... not really in America?” Alex couldn't hide the disappointment in his tone. He quickly tried to cover it with a deep cough.
“No. Don't think so.” Plisken shrugged with his mouth. “Didn't you think it a bit strange that my arm had changed?”
“Well yeah, but I thou-”
“Uh... guys...” Phi prodded them.
“What? … Oh.”

Custer and his men had formed a circle around them, and were looking coolly down from their horses, listening in to the conversation with sinister interest.

“Oh smeg.” Phil swallowed.

<<tag Phil or Plisken>>

<ooc>
<snip>"<ooc>I've got another post almost ready to go, detailing the inspection but if anyone fancies contributing towards us passing or failing, get in touch and we can do a joint one :) </ooc>" </snip>
-Let's be 'avin' ya!-
</ooc>