The Captain sat back in her chair on the huge, shadowy bridge. She was yellow under the eyes, a sure sign of lack of sleep. So much to be done ... half the fighters were damaged, and the main ships were in none too good condition, and there was hardly any room and certainly no food for all the survivors they were taking on board.
She looked up. There was the Gunnery Officer.
'This is not a wise move,' he said.
'It is the only one I have,' said the Captain wearily.
'No! We must fight on!'
'And then we die,' said the Captain. 'We fight, and then we die. That's how it goes.
'Then we die gloriously!'
'There's an important word in that sentence,' said the Captain. 'And it's not the word "gloriously".'
The Gunnery Officer went light green with rage.
'He's attacked hundreds of our ships!'
'And then he stopped.'
'None of the others have,' said the Gunnery Officer. 'They're humans! You can't trust a human. They shoot everything.'
The Captain rested her snout on one hand. 'He doesn't,' she said. 'He listened. He talked. None of the others did. He may be the One.'
The Gunnery Officer placed his upper two front hands on the desk and glared at her.
'Well,' he said, 'I've talked to the other officers. I don't believe in legends. When the full enormity of what you have done is understood, you will be relieved of your command!'
She turned tired eyes towards him.
'Good,' she said. 'But right now, I am Captain. I am responsible. Do you understand? Have you got the faintest idea of what that means? Now - . . go!'
He didn't like it, but he couldn't disobey. I can have him shot, she thought. It'd be a good idea. Bound to save trouble later on. It'll be No. 235 on the list of Things to Do .
She turned back to continue staring at the stars out- side, on the huge screen that filled one wall.
The enemy ship still hung there.
What kind of person is it? she thought. Despicable though they are, there's so few of them. But they keep coming back! What's their secret?
But you can be sure of one thing. They surely only send their bravest and their best.
The advantage of the Trying Times was that helping yourself from the fridge was OK. There didn't seem to be any proper mealtimes any more in any case. Or any real cooking.
Johnny made himself spaghetti and baked beans.
There was no sound from the living-room, although the TV was on.
Then he watched a bit of television in his room. He'd been given the old one when they got the new one. It wasn't very big and you had to get up and walk over to it every time you wanted to change channels or the volume or whatever, but these were Trying Times.
There was a film on the News showing some missiles streaking over some city. It was quite good.
Then he went to bed.
He was not entirely surprised to wake up at the controls of a starfighter.
It had been like that with Captain Zoom. You couldn't get it out of your head. After an evening's concentrated playing you were climbing ladders and dodging laser-zap bolts all night.
It was a pretty good dream, even so. He could fell the seat under him. And the cabin smelled of hot oil and overheated plastic and unwashed people.
It looked pretty much like the one he saw on the screen every evening, except that there was a thin film of grease and dirt over everything. But there was the radar screen, and the weapons console, and the joystick
Hey, much better than the computer! The cabin was full of noises - the click and whirr of fans, the hum and buzz of instruments.
And better graphics. You get much better graphics in your dreams.
The ScreeWee fleet hung in the air, hung in space in front of him.
Wow!
Although dreams ought to be a bit more exciting. You got chased in dreams. Things happened to you. Sitting in the cockpit of a starfighter bristling with weapons was fun, but things ought to happen
He wandered if he should launch a missile or something... No, hang on, they'd surrendered. And there was that thing about safe conduct. His hands wandered over the switches in front of him. They were a bit different from the computer keyboard, but this one- 'Are you receiving me?'
The face of the Captain appeared on the communications screen.
'Yes?' said Johnny.
'We are ready.'
'Ready?' said Johnny. 'What for?'
'Lead the way,' said the Captain. The voice came out of a grille beside the screen. It must be being translated by something, Johnny thought. I shouldn't think giant newts speak English.
'Where to?' he said. 'Where are we going?' 'To Earth.'
'Earth? Hang on! That's where I live! People can get into serious trouble showing huge alien fleets where they live!'
The grille hummed and buzzed for a while. Then the Captain said: 'Apology. That is a direct translation. We call the planet that is our home, "Earth"' When I speak in Sree Wee, your computer finds the word in your language that means the same thing. The actual word in Scree Wee sounds like ...' There was a noise like someone taking their foot out of a wet cowpat. 'I will show our home to you.'
A red circle suddenly developed on the navigation screen.
Johnny knew about that. You just moved a green circle over it, the computer went binleabinleabinlea, and you'd set your course.
They've shown me where they live.
The thought sunk in.
They trust me.
As he moved his fighter forwards, the entire alien fleet pulled in behind him. They eclipsed the stars.
The cabin hummed and buzzed quietly to itself.
Well, at least it didn't look too hard
A green dot appeared ahead of him.
He watched it get bigger, and recognized the shape of a starflghter, just like his. But it was a little hard to make it out. This was because it was half-hidden by laser bolts. It was firing at him as it came.
And it was travelling so fast it was very nearly catch- ing up with its own fire.
Johnny jerked the joystick and his ship rolled out of the way as the ... the enemy starfighter roared past and barrelled on towards the ScreeWee ships.
The whole sky full of ScreeWee ships.
Which had surrendered to him.
But people out there were still playing the game.
'No! Listen to me! They're not fighting any more!'
The starfighter turned in a wide curve and headed diiectly for the command ship. Johnny saw it launch a missile. Someone sitting at a keyboard somewhere had launched a missile. 'Listen! You've got to stop!'
It's not listening to me, he thought. You don't listen to the enemy. The enemy's there to be shot at. That's why it's the enemy. That's what the enemy's for.
He swung around to follow the starship, which had slowed down. It was pouring shot after shot into the command ship which wasn't firing back.
Johnny stared in horror.
The ship rocked under the hail of fire. The Gunnery Officer crawled across the shaking floor and pulled himself up beside the Captain's chair.
'Fool! Fool! I told you this would happen! I demand that we return fire!'
The Captain was watching the Chosen One's ship. It hadn't moved.
'No,' she said. 'We have to give him a chance. We must not fire on human ships.'
'A chance? How much of a chance do we have? I shall give the order to-'
The Captain moved very fast. When her hand stopped she was holding a gun very close to the Gun- nery Officer's head. It was really only a ceremonial weapon; normally ScreeWee fought only with their claws. But its shape said very clearly that things came out of the hole in the front end with the very definite purpose of travelling fast through the air and then kill- ing people.
'No,' she said.
The Gunnery Officer's face went blue, a sure sign of terror. But he had enough courage left to say: 'You would not dare fire!'