He must have managed it, though, because next timehe looked it was on, and the colours were much betterthan usual. There were the newscasters - the black oneand the one who looked like his glasses fitted under hisskin instead of over the top - and there was the studio,just like normal.

Except that it had the words 'ScreeWee War' in thecorner, where there were usually words like 'BudgetShock' or 'Euro Summit'. He couldn't hear what peoplewere saying, but the screen switched to a map of space.It was black. That was the point of space. It was justinfinity, huge and black with one dot in it that waseverything else.

There was one stubby red arrow in the middle of theblackness. Several dozen blue ones were headingtowards it from the edge of the map. In one corner ofthe map was a photo of a man talking into a phone.

Hang on, thought Johnny. I'm almost certain therewasn't a BBC reporter with the ScreeWees. They'dhave said. Probably there isn't even a CNN one.

He still wasn't getting any sound, but he didn't reallyneed any. It was obvious that humans were closing inon the fleet.

The scene changed. Now it showed a tent some-where, and there was the huge man, standing in frontof another copy of the map.

This time the sound came up. He was saying:

... that Johnny? He's no fighter. He's no politician.He goes home when the going gets tough. He runs outon his obligations. But apart from that, hey, he's a realnice kid . .

'That's not true!' Johnny shouted.

'It isn't?' said a voice behind him.

He didn't look around immediately. By the sound ofit, the voice had come from his chair. And that wasmuch more impossible than the ScreeWee being ontelevision. No-one could sit in that chair. It was full ofold T-shirts and books and supper plates and junk.There was a deep sock layer and possibly the LostStrawberry Yoghurt. No-one could sit down therewithout special equipment.

The Captain was, though. She seemed quite at home.He'd only ever seen her face on the screen. Now hecould see that she was about two metres long, but quitethin - more like a fat snake with legs than an alligatoror a newt. She had two thick, heavy pairs about half-way down, and two pairs of thinner ones at the top,on a set of very complicated shoulders. Most of her wascovered in a brown overall; the bits that stuck out - her head, all eight hands or feet, and most of her tail - wereyellow-bronze, and covered in very small scales.'If you parked out in the road Mrs Cannock oppositewill be really mad,' Johnny heard himself say. 'She goesmad about my dad leaving his car parked out in the roadand it's not even a thousand metres long. So this is anhallucination, isn't it?''Of course it is,' said the Captain. 'I'm not sure thatreal space and game space are connected, except in yourhead.''I saw this film once where spaceships could go any-where in the universe through wormholes in space,'said Johnny. 'That means I've got a wormhole in myhead?'The Captain shrugged, which was a very interestingsight in a being with four arms.'Watch this,' she said. 'This is very impressive. Iexpect this will be shown a lot.'She pointed at the screen.It showed stars, and a dot in the distance. It got big-er very quickly.'I think I know that,' said Johnny. 'It's one of yourships. The sort you get on level seven, isn't it?''The type, I think, will not matter for long,' said theCaptain quietly.The ship was heading away from the camera. Itsrocket exhausts got larger and larger. 'The cameraseemed to be mounted on a'Missile?' said Johnny weakly.The screen went blank.Johnny thought of the dead Space Invader armada,turning over and over in the frosty emptiness betweenthe game stars.'I don't want to know about it,' said Johnny. 'I don'twant you to tell me how many ScreeWee there wereon board. I don't want you to tell me what happ-'

'No,' said the Captain, 'I expect you don't.'

'It's not my fault! I can't help what people arelike!'

'Of course not.'

The Captain had a nasty way of talking in a reason-able voice.

'We are under attack,' she said. 'Humans are attack-ing us. Even though we have surrendered.'

'Yes, but you only surrendered to me,' said Johnny.'I'm just me. It's not like surrendering to a governmentor something. I'm not important.'

'On the contrary,' said the ScreeWee, 'you're thesaviour of civilization. You're all that stands betweenyour world and certain oblivion. You are the last hope.'

'But that's not . . real. That's just what it says atthe start of the game!'

'And you did not believe it?'

'Look, it always says something like that!'

'Only you can save mankind?' said the Captain.

'Yes, but it's not really true!'

'If not you, then who else?'

'Look,' said Johnny. 'I have saved mankind. In thegame, anyway. There aren't any ScreeWee attack-ing any more. People have to play it for hours to findany.

The Captain smiled. The shrug had been impressive.But the Captain's mouth was half a metre long.

'You humans are strange,' she said. 'You are warlike.But you make rules! Rules of war!'

'Sometimes I think we don't always obey all those rules,'said Johnny.

Another four-armed shrug.

'Does that matter? Even to have made such rulesYou think all of life is a game.'

The Captain pulled a small piece of silvery paper outof a pocket of her overall.

'Your attackers have left us too short of food. So, byyour rules,' she said, 'I must ask for the following: fifteentonnes of pressed wheat extractions treated with sucrose;ten thousand litres of cold bovine lactation; twenty-fivetonnes of the baked wheat extraction containing grilledbovine flesh and trace ingredients, along with choppedand fried tubers and fried and corn-extract-coated ringsof vegetables of the allium family; one tonne of crushedmustard seeds mixed with water and permitted addi-tives; three tonnes of exploded corn kernels coated withlactic derivation; ten thousand litres of coloured watercontaining sucrose and trace elements; fifteen tonnesof prepared and fermented wheat extract in vegetablejuice; one thousand tonnes of soured lactic acid flavouredwith fruit extract. Daily. Thank you.'

'What?'

'The food of your fighting men,' explained theCaptain.

'Doesn't sound like food.'

'You are right,' said the Captain. 'It is disgustinglylacking in fresh vegetables and dangerously high incarbohydrates and saturated fats. However, it appearsthat this is what you eat.'

'Me? I don't even know what that stuff is! What arepressed wheat extractions treated with sucrose?'

'It said "Snappiflakes" on the packet,' said theCaptain.

'Soured lactic acid?'

'You had a banana yoghurt.'

Johnny's lips moved as he tried to work this out.

'The grilled bovine flesh and all that stuff?'

'A hamburger and fries with fried onion rings.'

Johnny tried to sit up.

'Are you saying that I've got to go down to the shopsand get takeaway Jumboburgers for an entire alienspacefleet?'

'Not exactly.'

'I should think not-'

'My Chief Engineer wants a Bucket of ChickenLumps.'

'What do ScreeWee usually eat?'

'Normally we eat a kind of waterweed. It contains aperfect balance of vitamins, minerals and trace elementsto ensure a healthy growth of scale and crest.'

'Then why-'

'But, as you would put it, it tastes like poo.'

'Oh.'

The Captain stood up. It was a beautiful movement.The ScreeWee body had no angles in it, apart from theelbows and knees; she seemed to be able to bend wher-ever she wanted.

'And now I must return,' she said. 'I hope yourattack of minor germs will shortly be over. I could onlywish that my attack of human beings was as easilycured.'

'Why aren't you fighting back?' said Johnny. 'Iknow you can.