‘Satisfied?’ she snapped. ‘No hint of Danish pastries anywhere? Right? Now can I actually shoot something?’

‘No! I keep telling you! You have to give them a chance to surrender.’

‘You always make it difficult!’

She raised the gun and stepped out.

So did the Captain. She hissed a word in ScreeWee. The guards looked from her to Kirsty, who was squinting along her gun barrel. One of them hissed something.

‘She says the Gunnery Officer has instructed them to shoot anyone who approaches the door,’ said the Captain.

‘I’ll fire if they move,’ said Kirsty. ‘I mean it!’

The Captain spoke in ScreeWee again. The guards stared at Johnny. They lowered their guns.

Suspicion rose inside him.

‘What did you just tell them?’ he said.

‘I just told them who you were,’ said the Captain.

‘You said I was the Chosen One?’

One of the guards was trying to kneel. That looked very strange in a creature with four legs.

Kirsty rolled her eyes.

‘It’s better than being shot at,’ said the Captain. ‘I’ve been shot at a lot. I know what I am talking about.’

‘Tell her to get up,’ said Johnny. ‘What do we do now? Who’s on the bridge?’

‘Most of the officers,’ said the Captain. ‘The guard says there have been – arguments. Gunfire.’

‘That’s more like it!’ said Kirsty.

They looked at the door.

‘OK,’ said Johnny. ‘Let’s go . . .’

The Captain motioned one of the guards aside and touched a plate by the door.

Chapter 11

Humans!

Johnny saw it all in one long, long second.

Firstly, the bridge was big. It seemed to be the size of a football pitch. And at one end there was a screen, which looked almost as big. He felt like an ant standing in front of a TV set.

The screen was covered with green dots.

Players. Heading for the fleet.

There were hundreds of them.

Right in front of the screen was a horseshoe-shaped bank of controls, with a dozen seats ranged in front of it.

It’s here, he thought. When I was sitting in my room playing, they were in here in this great shadowy room, steering their ship, firing back . . .

Only one seat was occupied now. Its occupant was already standing up, half turning, reaching for something . . .

‘Go ahead,’ said Kirsty. ‘Make my stardate.’

The Gunnery Officer froze, glaring at them.

‘Too late,’ he said. ‘You’re too late!’ He waved a claw towards the screen. ‘I’ve taken us back to where we belong. There is no time to turn us round again. You must fight now.’

He focused on Johnny. ‘What’s that?’ he said.

‘The Chosen One,’ said the Captain, starting to walk forward. The others followed her.

‘But we must fight,’ said the Gunnery Officer. ‘For honour. The honour of the ScreeWee! That’s what we are for!’

Johnny’s foot touched something. He looked down. Now that his eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, he could see that he’d almost tripped over a ScreeWee. It was dead. Nothing with a hole like that in it could have been alive.