The Last Starfighter

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The Last Starfighter Page 6

by Alan Dean Foster


  “Oh.” Alex had reached the point of not bothering to question the impossible, since he was living it.

  Something pushed him back in his seat for just a moment. When he could move again he took another look outside, wondering if he’d still be able to see the city. He could not, though he knew it had to be down below them somewhere.

  Down below them somewhere, on the Earth.

  He was surprised at how small and vulnerable it looked, the Earth. Even as he stared it was shrinking to a point, like a cartoon world vanishing on an animator’s drawing stand. Again he was jerked back into his seat. The next time he was able to move about and look outside, the Earth had disappeared. No sign of the moon, either.

  “Sorry about the stop and go acceleration, son,” Centauri apologized. “Transmission needs work.”

  Alex reached a decision, leaned forward and pounded insistently on the partition. “That’s enough,” he said, wondering if he sounded half as hysterical as he felt. “Take me back, take me home!”

  “Now don’t be in such an all-fired hurry, son. All in good time. Sit back and enjoy the ride.” Alex noticed his abductor was wiping at his face with a thin rag of metal mesh. When he turned to face Alex again he was still smiling.

  Only now his mouth was all wrong. In fact, his whole face was all wrong. Most especially his eyes were all wrong. They were much too big for the face, for any human face. But that was all right because the face they were attached to wasn’t in the least bit human. It was grotesque and distorted and resembled some of Louis’s wild scribbles, childish parodies of half-remembered nightmares.

  The creature that was Centauri continued to smile back at him as it gently polished its eyeballs.

  Alex’s fist froze halfway to the glass. All of a sudden he wasn’t so sure he wanted the glass partition to come down. He settled back in his seat to gape silently at the thing sitting in the pilot’s chair.

  Minutes passed. The creature used the metal rag on its face again. When it turned a second time, the familiar Centauri was smiling back at Alex.

  Some kind of optical illusion, Alex told himself. He had become very calm. Something that looks solid but isn’t, quite. The metal mesh activated and deactivated the disguise. Or maybe it was solid, a preset fleshy buildup that could be added to or removed from the alien face simply by applying the rag. Or maybe he was insane, and indulging his fantasies in the coldly logical fashion of the completely crackers. They say the real crazies are the most methodical in their thought processes. He’d read that somewhere.

  But he could hear his heart pounding in his chest, feel the pressure from the car’s periodic jumps (he could hardly call it a car anymore) as it shot through the void, taste the dry fear in his mouth. He bit down on his lower lip until it bled, found he could taste that too. The action frightened him. Hurting himself would prove nothing.

  Something bright and massive loomed up off to the right. He recognized it immediately. The rings were brighter than he’d imagined them, and far more lovely. Breathtakingly beautiful. As he stared, Saturn receded rapidly behind them.

  “Now,” Centauri announced amiably, “it’s time to take some speed.”

  “I’m not into drugs,” Alex replied softly.

  “Oh, sorry.” Centauri hesitated, thinking, then grinned at his own error. “Wrong reference. I mean, it’s time to make some speed. Better?”

  “Yeah, better,” Alex told him.

  Centauri shook his head, looking very human. “You people concoct the strangest expressions.” He touched controls. Alex leaned forward. His curiosity was all that remained between sanity and total terror.

  “What now?”

  “Now we go to supralight drive.”

  “Faster than light? That’s impossible.” He regretted his words the instant they left his mouth. In light of his present situation the comment sounded more than silly.

  There was no derision in Centauri’s reply. “ ’Taint. Why, if it were, nobody’d ever get anywhere, would they?”

  Alex felt the universe change around him. Stars danced in his eyes and he couldn’t be certain if they were in front of or behind his corneas. Maybe both. But the colors were pretty. Space travel as psychedelia. Or psychotic.

  “What . . . what happens now?”

  “Now?” Centauri was scrunching down in his seat. “Nothing to do now until we outgabe, son.” He closed his eyes. Alex wondered how that affected the eyes behind the disguise. Perhaps when he stopped staring Centauri would take them out and put them in his pocket for safekeeping. At this point it would have seemed only normal.

  But Centauri simply crossed his arms over his chest and let out a relieved sigh. “Enough work for one night. Time for a snooze. Why don’t you relax and try and catch some sleep, son? From here on in-out the ride’s pretty boring.”

  “Sure.” Alex tried to sound composed and in control. Might as well, since there wasn’t anything he could do about his situation. Getting out and walking, for example, seemed out of the question. “Sure, why not?”

  But for some reason, he couldn’t go to sleep.

  He might have dozed off in spite of himself. He couldn’t be certain. Consciousness came and went, ebbed and flowed as the lights of a distorted universe flicked past. Stream of cosmosness. His mind was lulled further by the steady tick-tick of the softly lit control panel while the perfect environmental controls of the ship relaxed his body. It was like riding across country with someone else doing all the night driving, the lights of motels and fast-food joints and street signs all melting into a warm yellow visual blur.

  The ticking was interrupted by a sharp beep. Outside, the stars resumed their normal appearance. To the right a pale green moon rich with copper ores was sliding past. A sun lay ahead. It was a little whiter than the one that baked the desert around the Starlight Starbright trailer park.

  Centauri awoke, sniffed twice, blew his nose on a handkerchief and settled in to prepare for landing as they dove straight for a cloud-shrouded planet. It was rich with ochre hues and not as blue as Earth.

  It wasn’t Earth in more ways than one, Alex reminded himself.

  Yet the city-lights that hove into view looked no different from this height than those of Los Angeles. There was more than one expansive cluster of lights, though he couldn’t estimate population from lights alone. He didn’t know anything about population densities, building sizes, or if the local inhabitants simply liked to leave a lot of lights on at night.

  They crossed the terminator into dayside, clouds beginning to slip beneath them. Centauri was speaking toward the dash in an alien tongue.

  “Hey!” Alex tapped the glass. Centauri looked back long enough to grin and the ship lurched violently, throwing Alex back against his seat. As soon as the shift had been corrected Centauri gave his passenger a disarming shrug. Alex resolved not to distract the oldster again until they were safely down.

  He had to content himself with formulating and rearranging all the questions he’d stored up during their flight, and with watching the alien landscape rush past below. There were brief, tantalizing glimpses of sunlit cities and of other flying craft, all of which shot past too fast for careful inspection.

  Signs of civilization came farther apart as they crossed desert, then jungle. Jungle gave way to coniferous forest hugging the slopes of high mountains.

  Centauri barked crisply at the pickup in his strange alien voice and they slowed further. Now Alex could examine the vegetation below in detail. He was surprised to see how little it differed from similar dense temperate zone growth on Earth. Only the presence of the occasional oddity, like a tall thin tree with a rust-red trunk or a flying creature that resembled a cross between a curious buzzard and a catfish, reminded him how far he was from home.

  Centauri turned their ship parallel to a gray granite cliff that looked like Yosemite’s El Capitan, only much wider. It brooded over rolling, heavily forested hills instead of a narrow glacial valley. They cruised slowly past the unbroken clif
f face until a brightly lit rectangular opening showed itself in the solid rock. Centauri nudged a control and the dash responded with a series of high-pitched squeals. A new voice sounded over the dash speaker. Centauri pivoted the ship in midair and drove them into the opening.

  Navigation lights illuminated the huge tunnel they’d entered. The ship moved easily down the high, wide corridor. Occasionally another small ship or service vehicle moved past them, heading for the outside. None of the pilots or passengers were human.

  “Come on, Centauri.” Alex rapped on the glass again. “Where are we? What’s going on?”

  But the old man . . . it was simpler to think of him as that . . . simply smiled back, amused by his passenger’s impatience.

  He angled leftward and set the ship down in a hangar cut out of the side of the main tunnel. Alex could see complex machines filling the chamber. Figures moved in and among them, intent on unimaginable tasks.

  The dash lights and the steady tick-ticking faded. The door on Centauri’s side rose with a soft hum, letting in air full of incense, or something like incense. The atmosphere in the hangar nipped at the senses.

  “Centauri?”

  Still grinning, the old man stepped clear of the ship and waved back at his imprisoned passenger.

  “Hey, Centauri!”

  Abandoning his ship and his distraught charge, Centauri walked away, disappearing into the distance like a man with important business to attend to.

  “Hey, lemme outta here! Hey!” He pounded on the glass partition, then on his door. Maybe that was the accepted method for activating the release. More likely, the mechanism had been released from outside. The door rose, and suddenly Alex wasn’t so sure he wanted it opened.

  Someone was waiting for him, and it wasn’t Centauri.

  Two arms, two legs, strange but not bizarre clothing, a human face . . . well, humanoid, anyway. The differences were not pronounced, but they were unarguable.

  “Hi,” Alex said, smiling wanly. If the features were consistent, then the uniformed being confronting him was female. If they were not, that implied ramifications of shape he preferred not to think about.

  She . . . it was nice to think of the alien as she . . . stared at him and mouthed something incomprehensible. It sounded a little like baby-talk, except he knew it wasn’t. Her stance and attitude conveyed her impatience.

  He shrugged helplessly and she looked disgusted, provided he was interpreting her expression correctly. For all he could tell for certain his reaction might be sending her into paroxysms of joy. Somehow he doubted it.

  Gestures were relatively universal. As she moved her arms, patiently repeating the movements as though for an idiot, he finally got the idea that she wanted him to disembark and follow her.

  “Okay.” He started climbing out of the ship. “But shouldn’t I wait for . . .?” He glanced ahead. There was no sign of Centauri. “I guess not. Lead on, good-lookin’.”

  His comment was not understood by his escort, which was probably fortunate, but letting out with a little sass made him feel better. Similar beings immediately swarmed over the ship, tending to outlets and clustering near the stern. One of them muttered something that sounded unpleasant and kicked the lower edge of the main drive. Alex heard something strike the floor with a metallic clank.

  He straightened as much as he could and tried to exude an air of complete confidence. “Perfectly logical explanation for all this.”

  They passed rows of metal cylinders stacked two heads high. Something was loading them on a wheelless platform with the aid of a glowing fishing pole. The loader had tentacles for a face and resembled a humanized relative of H.P. Lovecraft’s great god Cthulhu, a character who’d kept Alex awake with the light burning all night on more than one occasion. He moved closer to his more human-looking guide.

  They entered a doorway cut extra wide, though whether for appearance’s sake or to permit the movement of wide-bodied visitors Alex couldn’t have said. His escort turned him over to another female of the same species. This new nursemaid was slightly taller and more massive than the first. She made beckoning gestures and Alex followed meekly.

  “Got to do something . . . got to make something happen. Can’t just follow them around ’til I drop. Talk to them. Try communicating somehow. Maybe this one is more responsive.”

  As he struggled to think of how best to proceed they stepped out onto a moving section of floor. It carried them before a short creature wearing a dun-colored uniform who pointed something boxy and metallic at Alex. A wide beam of light shot from the box, enveloped him from head to foot.

  “Don’t kill me! I haven’t done anything! I . . .”

  The light winked off. Abashed, he avoided his escort’s gaze. The box wielder disappeared through a small door behind a counter, to reappear a short while later carrying a double armful of clothing, which he handed to Alex.

  “Mine?” he mumbled.

  “Georg-nat,” agreed the alien dispenser, returning to his previous business.

  Before Alex could think of another question, the floor moved him on. Looking back, he saw the short alien noshing on something like a deli sandwich, except that the contents were moving. He swallowed, determined not to pry too deeply into the dietary habits of those around him.

  He remembered his intention to try and provoke some kind of intelligible response from his guide. He cleared his throat and tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Pardon me, but does anyone around here speak Earth?”

  She made an unintelligible gesture with both hands but did not reply verbally. The section of floor finally slowed and Alex was ordered off. He expected her to join him, but she did not. The mobile floor slab carried her away.

  There were plenty of other aliens around, however, all busy at various tasks. Alex spotted a familiar figure in the midst of them.

  “Hey, Centauri!”

  He started through the crowd, avoiding contact with the non-humanoid aliens filling the room.

  Centauri was arguing with the male counterpart of the two females who’d brought him this far. Although Alex couldn’t understand a word of it, there was no doubt that the two were locked in some kind of dispute. Occasionally the new alien would gesture forcefully in Alex’s direction. Unable to participate, he stood dumbly nearby, holding his bulky load of clothing.

  “What’s going on? Centauri, what’s all the shouting about?” He hefted his load. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

  Centauri didn’t reply. That was a pity, because Alex would have found the conversation most enlightening. As he suspected, it concerned him.

  What the tall alien was saying at that moment was something that could be translated as, “Explain this, you chiseler.”

  “Chiseler?” Centauri fought to convey his outrage through the confines of his human mask. “My expenses on this trip were astronomical.”

  “Your expenses are always astronomical when you leave this system.”

  “No, no, I’m speaking idiomatically.”

  “You mean idiotically. Who do you think you are fooling, Centauri?”

  “I’m not trying to fool anybody, sightless one. I’ll have you know that you’re lookin’ at A-number-one merchandise here. He’s unique, this one is. Centauri guarantees it.”

  “Hey, uh, Centauri?” The two aliens continued to ignore the subject of their argument.

  “Really?” The tall alien gave Alex a quick once-over. Unaware of the reason behind this sudden stare, Alex smiled witlessly. “I think this is the ugliest, dumbest, silliest, loudest biped I’ve ever been unfortunate enough to set eyes upon. The only thing its presence guarantees is the waste of time and effort you’ve expended in digging it up from the galactic depths!”

  Unable to stand his frustration any longer, Alex stepped between them. “Centauri, dammit, talk to me! What’s going on here?”

  The old man turned to him, beaming with delight. “He’s saying how pleased he is that you’re here, and that if there�
�s anything he can do to make your stay more enjoyable just to give him a ring.”

  “Swell, but where are we?”

  “Oh, you should see your face, my boy! You love it, don’t you? I can tell by your ecstatic expression.”

  “That’s stark fear, Centauri, not ecstasy.”

  The oldster was momentarily nonplussed. “It is? Dear me, and I thought I had all your peculiar simian facial characteristics down pat. Ah, well, surface contortions can’t mask the true feelings underneath. I knew you would find this invigorating.” He swept one arm grandly around them. “Welcome to Rylos, my boy!”

  “Ry . . .?” Alex stared at his erstwhile mentor, slowly letting the import of what had just been said penetrate his brain. “Rylos.” Recognition flooded his expression. “Hey, wait. Rylos from the game?” He pointed at the tall creature standing nearby. “He’s a Rylan?”

  “See?” Centauri turned quickly on the alien officer. “What did I tell you? He’s quick, very quick.”

  “What did he say?” the officer asked.

  “He immediately identified you as a Rylan.”

  “As soon as you identified this world as Rylos. Oh yes, truly a brilliant speciman of the humanoid line. No doubt he’d instantly identify you as an idiot if I informed him that you made your home in an asylum.”

  “You’re bein’ unnecessarily snide.” Centauri looked hurt. “No matter what you think of him now, you can’t deny his enthusiasm. See? He’s virtually speechless.”

  “Is that an emotional reaction or a reflection of his semantic limits?”

  “Entirely emotional.” Centauri utilized a Rylan half-wink. The officer considered the gesture appropriate, coming as it did from a half-wit. “He can’t wait to get started. You have to know how to interpret these alien expressions.”

  “I’m sure. He doesn’t look very enthusiastic to me. He looks rather frightened.”

  “Not at all, not at all,” Centauri insisted. “He’s rarin’ t’go. Surely you’ve heard of the combative nature of these Earthfolk?”

 

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