‘Right.’

‘Wow!’

‘Got to go now, Wobbler. Got to eat my dinner before it congeals.’

He put the phone down on the tray, and looked at it. There was something else he was going to do. What was it? Something, anyway.

The lasagne looked real. It looked as though someone had already eaten it once.

The Captain looked up.

Most of her officers were standing in front of her. Except for the Gunnery Officer, who was looking smug, they all wore rather embarrassed expressions.

‘Yes?’ said the Captain.

To her surprise, it wasn’t the Gunnery Officer who spoke. It was the Navigation Officer, a small and inoffensive ScreeWee who suffered from prematurely shedding scales.

‘Um,’ she said.

‘Yes?’ said the Captain again.

‘Um. We – that is, all of us – ’ said the Navigation Officer, looking as if she wished she was somewhere else, ‘—we feel that, uh, the present course is, uh, an unwise one. With respect,’ she added.

‘In what way?’ said the Captain. She could see the Gunnery Officer grinning behind the little ScreeWee. No one could grin like a ScreeWee – their mouths were built for it.

‘We, uh – that is, all of us – we are still being attacked. And that last attack was a terrible one.’

‘The Chosen One stopped it, at the cost of his own life,’ said the Captain.

‘Um. He will return,’ said the Navigation Officer. ‘Um. Twenty of our people will not.’

The Captain wasn’t really looking at her. She was staring at the Gunnery Officer, whose grin was now wide enough to hold a set of billiard balls and probably the cue too.

He’s been talking to them, she told herself. Everyone’s on edge, no one can think straight, and he’s talking to them. I should have had him shot. They wouldn’t have liked it, but I could probably have shouted them down.

‘So what is it you are suggesting?’ she said.

‘Um. We – that is, all of us,’ said the little ScreeWee, with an imploring glance at the Gunnery Officer, ‘we feel we should turn and—’

‘Fight?’ said the Captain. ‘Make a last stand?’

‘Um. Yes. That’s right.’

‘And that’s the feeling of all of you?’

The officers nodded, one after another.

‘Um. Sorry, ma’am,’ said the Navigation Officer.

‘The others stood and fought,’ said the Captain. ‘The . . . Space Invaders. And the others. We’ve all seen the wrecks. All they knew was how to attack. They stood and fought, and fought and died.’

‘We are dying too, um,’ said the Navigation Officer.

‘I know. I am sorry,’ said the Captain. ‘But many are living. And every minute takes us further from danger. We are so near the Border! If we stop . . . you know what will happen. Game space will move. The Border will retreat. The humans will find us. And then they will—’

‘Die,’ said the Gunnery Officer. ‘And we shall win. Those others were stupid. We are not. We can win. We shall give the humans the mother of all battles.’