The Last Starfighter (22 page)

Alex watched the screen as it filled with images representing the incoming Ko-Dan ships. A superimposed grid located the armada precisely and readouts ticked away the distance remaining between the invaders and Rylos. The script meant nothing to Alex, but seemed ominous just the same.

“The armada will come through thusly, according to predictors.” Grig spoke carefully, methodically. “Unless opposed, they will reach geosynchronous orbit around Rylos in twenty time-parts. Squadrons of small attack ships will precede the command craft, which houses the mass driver.”

The last translation used a term vaguely familiar to Alex. He asked Grig to elaborate.

“That is the weapon that was used to destroy the Starfighter base. Actually a very primitive notion, made useful in modern warfare only because of the intervention of advanced technology. It’s difficult to defend yourself when the enemy is throwing irresistible forces at you from an immovable object. Think of it as the ultimate catapult. A very flexible weapon. It can fire anything you can fit inside it.”

“Then how do we cope with it?”

“We don’t,” Grig informed him. “It poses no danger to us. Only to fixed objects like ground-based installations . . . and cities. Our danger will come from ships armed with weapons similar to our own.” He adjusted a control, trying to locate the Ko-Dan command ship.

“You said the command craft will be preceded by squadrons of smaller ships, fighters. How many ships? Or maybe I should ask, how many squadrons?”

“Oh, it’s not the number of squadrons that concerns me,” Grig replied easily. The view on Alex’s screen jumped, steadied. Grig finally had the Ko-Dan command ship in focus. It was most impressive. The view leaped forward so realistically Alex almost ducked; then it slowed and crawled across the skin of the alien vessel until it stopped on, a large opaque blister located near the bow.

“It’s this command center that worries me. From there combat information is relayed simultaneously to every Ko-Dan ship, enabling them to act in concert against any attacker. The center is comprised of a series of ultra-sophisticated plotting computers operating in tandem. Give them enough time—and they require very little—and they will predict a pattern of movement for any intruding ship, enabling the fighters to concentrate on it as one.”

“How can it do that?” Alex inquired, “when any attack is bound to be made at random?”

“No machine or organic pilot functions in a purely random fashion. Each utilizes preferred maneuvers without doing so consciously. The Ko-Dan computers will pinpoint enough of a pattern to predict where an attacking ship is likely to be at any point in time. That takes the initiative away from any attacker, and initiative is vital to the success of any Starfighter assault.”

“So we’ve got to destroy that command center before it has enough time to analyze our movements.”

Grig nodded. “And deal with the fighters while they’re trying to regroup for concerted action. That is the Ko-Dan’s weakness They tend to hold back until receiving instructions from higher up. They can’t help it; it’s part of their mental makeup. Usually it works for them. They overwhelm any enemy with mass attacks. But they’ve never had to deal with a Starfighter before.

“After we take care of the command center we’ll finish off the smaller ships before they can move in and attack Rylos itself, then return to take care of the command ship before they can move the mass driver within precision range.”

“Seems to me they were precise enough from farther out when they destroyed the base.”

“They need to drop into low orbit to make their threat as believable as possible. It is one thing to be on the receiving end of such a weapon, quite another to be able to look up in the night sky and watch it cross over your head. The Ko-Dan do not really want to destroy Rylos; they want to conquer it. There is no glory in ruling rubble. So psychological weapons are as important as technological ones.”

“I see.” Alex did some mental figuring. “Wait a second. We knock out the control center to prevent the fighters from acting in concert, but to get to the command center we gotta get through the fighters.” He slumped. “That makes it simple. We’re dead.”

“Don’t fret. I’ll have it all figured out by the time we reach attack position.”

“Sure you will. While you’re making notes, keep in mind I’d like any remains sent to . . .” He broke off as a steady humming noise suddenly penetrated the cockpit. “What’s that?”

“Sensor. We’re nearing the outer limits of Rylos’s inner defensive shield.”

“I thought the Ko-Dan already broke through that.”

“Temporarily, long enough for them to destroy the base. Now the shield is back in place again, until they break through the next time. They are playing with us, I fear. This time the armada itself will come through, convinced they’ll be doing so unopposed.” He emitted an alien chuckle. “Aren’t they going to be surprised!”

“Oh yeah,” Alex agreed flatly. “They’ll be terrified out of their socks.”

Another buzz replaced the steady humming. Grig’s main monitor screen came to life. Two images appeared off to port.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” Grig studied the screen. “Highly irregular to see cargo ships this far above the ecliptic. I can’t imagine where they’re headed. They may not be aware of the Ko-Dan presence.”

“How’s that possible? Surely everyone within communications range knows about it by now.”

“Everyone within range, yes, but these visitors may be on their way in from outsystem and may have just emerged from supralight drive. I’ll try hailing them on sealed beam.” His hands worked instruments.

“This is gunstar one out of Rylos. Identify yourself, please. You are in a combat area. Ko-Dan armada is close at hand. Repeat, identify yourselves. You should leave this sector immediately and proceed in to Rylos.”

“Can’t the Ko-Dan pick that up?” Alex asked anxiously, watching his own screen. Indeed, he couldn’t take his eyes off it. Literally.

“Not unless Xur’s spies have burrowed deeper into League technology than so far suspected.”

Abruptly space lit up outside the ship, bright silent flares erupting off to their left.

“What was that!”

“Contradiction of my aforementioned,” said Grig as he threw the ship onto a different course and boosted their speed. “Unless they have simply been ordered to attack any vessel not attempting contact on an approved Ko-Dan channel.”

Alex stared at the battle screen. “Hey, they’re coming toward us! Shouldn’t we take evasive action before they catch up to us?”

“They are not catching up to us,” Grig replied as he concentrated on the controls. “We are catching up to them. They are trying to get away.”

“Uh . . . maybe we should let them?”

“This is no game, Alex,” Grig admonished him. “These are not Ko-Dan fighters. They are Xurian ships, traitors, Ko-Dan allies. I’ve jammed their transmissions so they can’t report back to the rest of the armada, but we have to stop them quickly. Stand ready, Alex. There are your first live targets.”

“Live?”

Grig didn’t reply. He was too busy trying to run down the two retreating ships.

“Gee, Grig, I’m not sure I’m ready to . . .”

“Within range in five milliparts. Get ready.”

Ahead, the two Xurian ships suddenly disappeared, vanishing from their screens.

“Where’d they go?” Alex wondered.

“Only one place to hide from scanners at this range. Hang on.”

The gunstar dipped as Grig flung it toward a large asteroid drifting nearby. Alex flinched, but there was no rending crash. Grig had plunged them into the center of a large crater, close on the track of the fleeing Xurians. He slowed immediately, knowing their quarry would be forced to do likewise or risk smashing into the walls of the volcanic vent.

The cockpit was full of beeps and clicks as he navigated a course through the asteroid. The tunnel down which the Xurians were fleeing was curved and smooth-sided.

“Three milliparts to kill zone. Weapons systems armed. Defensive screen armed.”

Alex leaned forward. “Grig, wait!”

“Fire when ready.”

The images of the two Xurian ships were sharp on the screen floating in front of Alex’s face, both of them pinned against the firing grid like tired butterflies. Alex stared blankly, suddenly conscious of what the pair of points represented. This was no two-dimensional microchip-generated picture. Both of those ships were filled with intelligent beings not unlike themselves.

Dimly a voice was shouting at him.

“Fire, Alex, fire!”

“It’s no good, Grig. I can’t do it. Turn back, get us out of here, I can’t!”

“You can and you must.” Grig blinked as the gunstar scraped a barely sensed projection sticking out into the tunnel. “Steady now, steady. We’re still on them, still in range. Use your sensors.”

“It’s no good, Grig.”

The tunnel ahead ballooned into a vast open airless cavern. The Xurians whirled and sped back straight toward their pursuer. The cavern was a dead end and further retreat was blocked.

It took only a second or so. “Shoot, Alex!”

“Grig, I can’t!”

If the pilots of the Xurian ships had ignored the gunstar they might both have escaped, shooting past their pursuer on either flank. Instead, they panicked and fired their own weapons. It was just enough to galvanize Alex into action. His fingers danced on the fire controls. Energy shot from the gunstar and the ship rocked as it passed between two expanding spheres of hot gas and vaporized metal.

Grig slowed and turned easily in the cavern. “You did it! I never doubted for a moment, Alex.” He dropped their speed to a crawl, let the gunstar coast on maneuvering thrusters.

Alex sat stunned in the gunnery seat. “I did it? You did it.
You
almost got me killed. I said I was willing to help fight, but not a suicidal battle against impossible odds. If this is how it’s going to be, I withdraw the offer. I volunteered to contribute to a defensive effort, not
be
the defense. I’m not cut out to be a martyr, Grig. I’d rather face Xur’s assassins one at a time. The odds are a damnsight better. Take me home!”

Grig was silent a long time before asking quietly, “Are those your final words on the matter, Alex?”

“I hope so!”

Grig made a gesture of acknowledgment and spoke quietly as they cruised the tunnel. “My humblest apologies, then. I had hoped that by putting you in the thick of battle, a great Starfighter might emerge, the polished gem from the rough Centauri was so certain he’d found.

“Alas, perhaps there was never one within you to begin with. So it would seem. I cannot make a Starfighter of you against your will, Alex. I will take you back, as you request. You may still be able to live out a long and comfortable life on Earth before the Ko-Dan reach it. Then again, you may not.

“You may relax now. Keep your fingers clear of the fire controls until I can deactivate our weapons systems. There’s no need to alert any other Xurian or Ko-Dan vessels to our presence through a burst of unintentional fire.” A sensor beeped, nudged the ship around a large floating chunk of torn ceramic plating.

“Also, I am not trying to make you feel guilty. That would be impolite.”

“I don’t feel guilty,” Alex insisted guiltily.

“That is good. I do not have the right to manipulate your emotions, no matter how worthy the cause. Let us talk about something else.” He let his gaze take in the smooth ceiling of the tunnel.

“Cheerful, roomy place,” Grig said. “With air and gravity and heat it could be made almost homey. Rather reminds me of the town I was raised in.”

Alex frowned as he studied the stone tube. “
This
reminds you of home?”

“Oh yes.” Grig made an effort to appear cheerful. “My mate and I live below ground with our sixty little Griglings. We’re very comfortable. Living below the surface of a world has many advantages, Alex. Stable climate, unvarying scenery, the feeling of your friends constantly around you.”

“Sixty, huh? That’s quite a family. I guess you didn’t spend all your time preparing to be a Navigator/Monitor.”

“We tend to have large families. The fertile period among us is brief, but most births that occur are multiple. Would you like to see?”

Alex wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond. “I’m not sure I follow you.”

“My family.”

Alex relaxed. “Yeah, sure.”

Grig fumbled with his flight suit and harness and extracted a strip of dark plastic. He ran a finger along the right-hand edge. An image appeared on the smooth, thin surface, lit from within. As Alex watched the picture change automatically, each of Grig’s numerous offspring appearing in a predetermined sequence. The images changed quickly and it didn’t take too long to run through the entire oversized family.

When the last one had faded, Grig slipped the plastic back inside his suit.

“Very nice,” Alex admitted.

“They are a joy to me,” the Navigator confessed. “I have high hopes for them. That is, until Xur makes them slaves.” This was said in a flat, unemotional tone, which did nothing to lessen its impact on Alex.

“Now tell me, where do your kind live, if not beneath the undisturbed and insulating surface of your world?”

“In houses, mostly. Caves above ground.” Suddenly he shoved a hand into his right-side pocket and removed the contents. He’d switched them from his jeans to the uniform when he’d changed clothes back on Rylos.

Sitting in the fire control seat of a gunstar they looked very out of place. There was his wallet, with its limp, useless currency; a few keys, some coins, a paperclip, a couple of stamps (how much was postage from Rylos to Earth, he wondered?), and a few bits of gravel. Of all of it, he most prized the few fragments of decomposed granite. They were pieces of home.

He returned everything to the pocket but the wallet, unsnapped the catch on the vinyl and flipped through the pictures as he showed them to Grig.

“See, here’s where I live. And that’s my family. It’s a lot smaller than yours.” The picture showed happy younger children gathered around a barbecue. A smiling older man and woman stood together next to the metal utensil. The man had his arm around the woman’s shoulder while hers was around his waist. Distant, half-remembered images of an ancient time. Even there, in that alien planetoid, they conjured up rarely felt emotions.