Only You Can Save Mankind

They were all looking at him.

'Anyway, that's what I think,' said Johnny.

9

On Earth, No-one Can Hear You

Say 'Um'

Click! 'Yes?' 'Um.' 'Hello?' 'Um. Is Sig - is Kirsty there?' 'Who's that?'

'I'm a friend. Um. I don't think she knows my narne.

'You're a friend and she doesn't know your name?'

'Please!'

'Oh, hang on.'

Johnny stared at his bedroom wall. Eventually a suspicious voice said, 'Yes? Who's that?'

'You're Sigourney. You like C Inlay 4 Details. You fly really well. You-'

'You're him!' Johnny breathed a sigh of relief. Real! Going through the phone book had been harder than flying the starship. Nearly harder than dying. 'I wasn't sure you really existed,' he said. 'I wasn't sure you existed,! she said. 'I've got to talk to you. I mean face to face.' 'How do I know you're not some sort of maniac?' 'Do I sound like some sort of maniac?'

'Yes!'

'All right, but apart from that?'

There was silence for a moment. Then she said, reluc- tantly: 'All right. You can come round here.'

'What? To your house?' 'It's safer than in public, idiot.' Not for me, Johnny thought. 'OK,' he said. 'I mean, you might be one of those funny people.' 'What, clowns?' And then she said, very cautiously: 'It's really you?' 'Really I'm not sure about. But me, yes.' 'You got blown up.' 'Yes, I know. I was there, remember.'

'I don't die often in the game. It took me ages even to find the aliens.'

Huh, thought Johnny.

'It doesn't get any better with practice,' he said, darkly.

Tyne Crescent turned out to be a pretty straight road with trees in it, and the houses were big and had double garages and a timber effect on them to fool people into believing that Henry VIII had built them.

Kirsty's mother opened the door for him. She was grinning like the Captain, although the Captain had the excuse that she was related to crocodiles. Johnny felt he had the wrong clothes on, or the wrong face.

He was shown into a large room. It was mainly white. Expensive bookshelves lined one wall. Most of the floor was bare pine, but varnished and polished to show that they could have afforded carpets if they'd wanted them. There was a harp standing by a chair in one corner, and music scattered around it on the floor.

Johnny picked up a sheet. It was headed 'Royal College, Grade V'.

'Well?'

She was standing behind him. The sheet slipped out of his fingers.

'And don't say "um",' she said, sitting dawn. 'You say "um" a lot. Aren't you ever sure about things?'

'Uh No. Hello?'

'Sit down. My mother's making us some tea. And then staying out of the way. You'll probably notice that. You can actually hear her staying out of the way. She thinks I ought to have more friends.'

She had red hair, and the skinny look that went with it. It was as if someone had grabbed the frizzy ponytail on the back of her head and pulled it tightly.

'The game,' said Johnny vaguely.

'Yes? What?'

'I'm really glad you're in it too. Yo-less said it was all in my head because of Trying Times. He said it was just me projecting my problems.'

'I haven't got any problems,' snapped Kirsty. 'I get on extremely well with people, actually. There's pro- bably some simple psychic reason that you're too stupid to work out.'

'You sounded more concerned on the phone,' said Johnny.

'But now I've had time to think about it. Anyway, what's it to me what happens to some dots in a machine?'

'Didn't you see the Space Invaders?' said Johnny.

'Yes, but they were stupid. That's what happens. Charles Darwin knew about that. I am a winning kind of person. And what I want to know is, what were you doing in my dream?'

'I'm not sure it's a dream,' said Johnny. 'I'm not sure what it is. Not exactly a dream and not exactly real. Something in between. I don't know. Maybe something happens in your head. Maybe you're in there because - because, well, I don't know why, but there's got to be a reason,' he ended lamely.

'Why're you there, then?'

'I want to save the ScreeWee.'

'Why?'

'Because we've got a responsibility. But the Cap- tain's been ... I don't know, locked up or something. There's been some kind of mutiny. It's the Gunnery Officer. He's behind it. But if I - if we could get her out, she could probably turn the fleet around again. I thought you might be able to think of some way of get- ting her out,' Johnny finished lamely. 'We haven't got a lot of game time.

'She?' said Kirsty.

'She started all this. She relied on me,' said Johnny.

'You said "she",' said Kirsty.

Johnny stood up.

'I thought you might be able to help,' he said wearily, 'but who cares what happens to some dots that aren't even real. So I'll just-'

'You keep saying "she",' said Kirsty. 'You mean the Captain's a woman?'

'A female,' said Johnny. 'Yes.'

'But you called the Gunnery Officer a "he",' said Kirsty.

'That's right.'

Kirsty stood up.

'That's typical. That's absolutely typical of modern society. He probably resents a wo - a female being bet- ter than him. I get that all the time.'

'Um,' said Johnny. He hadn't meant to say 'um'. He meant to say: 'Actually, all the ScreeWee except the Gunnery Officer are females.' But another part of his brain had thought faster and shut down his mouth before he could say it, diverting the words into oblivion and shoving good old 'um' in their place.

'There was an article in a magazine,' said Kirsty. 'This whole bunch of directors of a company ganged up on this woman and sacked her just because she'd become the boss. It was just like me and the Chess Club.'

It probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell her. There was a glint in her eye. No, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to be honest. Truthfulness would have to do instead. After all, he hadn't actually lied.

'It's a matter of principle,' said Kirsty. 'You should have said so right at the start.' She stood up. 'Come on.

'Where are we going?' said Johnny.

'To my room,' said Kirsty. 'Don't worry. My parents are very liberal.'

There were film posters all over the walls, and where there weren't film posters there were shelves with silver cups on. There was a framed certificate for the Regional Winner of the Small-Bore Rifle Confederation's National Championships, and another one for chess. And another one for athletics. There were a lot of medals, mostly gold, and one or two silver. Kirsty won things.

If there was a medal for a tidy bedroom, she would have won that too. You could see the floor all the way to the walls.

She had an electrical pencil sharpener.

And a computer. The screen was showing the familiar message: NEW GAME (Y/N)?

'Do you know I have an IQ of one hundred and sixty-five?' she said, sitting down in front of the screen.

'Is that good?'

'Yes! And I only started playing this wretched game because my brother bought it and said I wouldn't be any good at it. These things are moronic.

There was a notebook by the keyboard.

'Each level,' explained Kirsty. 'I made notes about how the ships flew. And kept score, of course.'

'You were taking it seriously,' said Johnny. 'Very seriously.'

'Of course I take it seriously. It's a game. You've got to win them, otherwise what's the point? Now... can we get on to the ScreeWee flagship?'

'Um-'

'Think!'

'Can we get into a ScreeWee battleship?'

Kirsty almost growled. 'I asked you. Sit down and think!'

Johnny sat down.

'I don't think we can' he said. 'I'm always in a star- ship. I think things have to look like they do on the screen.

'Hmm. Makes some sort of sense, I suppose.' Kirsty stuck a pencil in the sharpener, which whirred for a while. 'And we don't know what it looks like inside.'