It was bigger than a ScreeWee should be, now. It wasn’t a funny alligator – there was still a suggestion of alligator there, but now there was insect, too, and other things . . . things that had never existed outside of dreams . . .

Johnny shouted: ‘He’s behind you!’ Then he lowered his head and ran.

Kirsty turned.

You can’t trust dreams. If you live inside them, they’ll turn on you, carry you along . . .

He saw Kirsty turn and look up, and up, at the Gunnery Officer.

The ScreeWee opened his mouth. There were more teeth than he’d had before; rows and rows of them, and every one glistening and sharp.

Her dream, Johnny thought. No wonder she always fights.

‘Shoot it! Shoot it!’

She was just staring. She didn’t seem to want to move.

‘You’ve got the gun!’ he screamed.

She was like a statue.

‘Shoot it!’

‘. . . oh . . .’

Kirsty shook her head vaguely and then, as if she’d suddenly clicked awake, raised the gun.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Now—’

The ScreeWee ignored her. He jerked his head up and focused on Johnny. He hardly had eyes, now. The alien seemed to be looking at Johnny with its teeth.

‘Ah. The Chosen One,’ it said. It slapped Kirsty out of the way. She couldn’t even have seen its arm move. One moment she was aiming, and the next she was lifted into the air and dropping in a heap a few metres away.

The gun clattered on to the floor and slid towards Johnny.

‘Chosen One!’ hissed the ScreeWee. ‘Foolish! We are what we are! You disgrace your race and mine! For you, and her . . . for you, there’s no going back . . .’

Kirsty was trying to get to her feet, her face contorted with anger.

Johnny reached down and picked up the gun.

The ScreeWee waved two arms in a sudden movement. Johnny flinched.

He heard, from a long way away, Kirsty call out: ‘Quick! Throw it to me! To me!’

The alien smiled.

Johnny backed away a little. The alien was concentrating entirely on him.

‘To me, you idiot!’ shouted Kirsty.

‘You?’ said the alien to Johnny. ‘Shoot me? You can’t. Such weakness. Like your Captain. A disgrace to the ScreeWee. Always weak. And that is why you want peace. The strong never want peace.’

Johnny raised the gun.

The alien moved forward, slowly. His teeth seemed to fill the world. His arms seemed longer, his claws sharper.

‘You cannot,’ it said. ‘I’ve watched you. At least the other humans could fight! We could die honourably! But you . . . you talk and talk . . . you’d do anything rather than fight. You’d do anything but face the truth. You save mankind? Hah!’

Johnny stepped back again, and felt the edge of the control desk behind him. There was no more retreating.

‘Will you surrender?’ he said.

‘Never!’

Johnny saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. Kirsty was going to try to leap on the thing. But the alien wasn’t like the guards, now. She wouldn’t stand a—