Alan Dean Foster The Last Starfighter

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yourself to take him into combat. He can be the greatest Starfighter ever!"
"Centauri," Alex protested, "that was just a game."
"A game? Maybe you thought it was just a game, but it was a carefully
thought-out, heavily researched test. A test which you took along with
hundreds of representatives of other young, combative races. And the test
worked exactly as it was designed to. It selected you, my boy, and here you
are."
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"Right. Here I am, about to get killed."
The Rylan officer shifted impatiently from one foot to the other and gestured
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with his extended hand.
"Return the payment, Centauri. Or do I have to call Security?"
"No need to rush things. Why so insistent? This is a secured installation.
Where could I run to?"
"You always manage to find someplace."
Centauri chose to turn from the officer and ignore that. Instead, he tried to
convince the crux of his current difficulties of the rightness of the course
his good friend Centauri had chosen for him.
"Now why talk of being killed? You don't seriously think being a Starfighter
is dangerous? You're being foolish, my boy. What could be dangerous?"
"Yeah, what," Alex snapped. "It's nothing, really. A simple little
interstellar war involving a few billion combatants. What could be dangerous?"
"Exactly my point." Centauri sounded pleased, managing to ignore Alex's
sarcasm with marvelous ease.
"All you have to do is . . ."
There was a disturbance in the hangar. In minutes everyone was aware of its
presence among them.
Hands put tools aside while armed troops scurried to battle stations in case
the chance presented itself for them to shoot at more than an uncomfortable
feeling.
The light began to change, darkening at first near the center of the largest
open area, then brightening as a flat white glow built into a solid globe of
illumination. The light intensified, solidifying.
Alex whispered to Grig. "What is it?"
"Image projection. Somehow the Ko-Dan have learned the location of our command
center."
Alex thought a moment. "The traitors Enduran mentioned. It has to be."
"Yes, the traitors."
"Are there many of them?"
"No, but there are enough to make a difference, and they are led by one whose
philosophy, while abhorrent to all civilized peoples, possesses a certain
malignant attractiveness. They are not to be underestimated, nor is their
leader."
"Xur." Alex stared fascinated at the rotating sphere of dense light and
remembered details of the videogame.
"Yes, Xur, but that is little more than a name to you. To us it conjures up
the image of a real person, of a great evil. Enduran knows this more than any
other."
"Enduran? Why him?"
"Watch, listen, learn." Alex held his questions and did as he was told.
Within the spinning globe of light a face began to take form. It resembled
another recently observed and
Alex struggled to place it. Then he had it, and understood what Grig meant.
The resemblance was striking, and frightening.
Enduran had appeared on the floor of the hangar, shaking off the protective
hands of the aides who tried to hold him back. The ambassador approached the
projection fearlessly. His expression hinted at anger barely held in check.
The projection reacted to this new presence, smiled humorlessly. "Hello,
Father."
"You have no father," said Enduran. "I have no son."
The image did not appear in the least upset. "And neither of us has any
illusions. No, that is not quite right. You still believe in the
invulnerability of your foolish, outmoded 'Frontier.' It is less solid than
the image you gaze upon now, and will vanish just as easily should I will it
so . . . Father."
"Do not call me Father!" Enduran fought to check his emotions. Were he to lose
his temper and strike out at a pillar of smoke it would draw only laughter
from the traitor. Enduran would never give him that kind of satisfaction.
"You are no longer my son. That much is settled. You have made yourself an
outcast, not only from your family, but from your civilization, from that
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which nurtured you. You have betrayed on a level unprecedented in history.
Knowing this, why have you chosen to return?"
The projection was am used. "I wouldn't think that after all you've learned
that my intentions are still open to question. I thought I made them quite
clear when I was thrown out of the Council." Some of Xur's
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humor gave way to the blind fury barely concealed beneath his veneer of
politeness.
"I have returned to fulfill my destiny, Father. The destiny you and the other
members of the Council denied to me. I have returned to claim my birthright. I
have returned for the good of all Rylans, as my supporters well know."
"Dabblers in evil," Enduran responded. "They see in a return to ancient combat
only an opportunity for shallow excitements. Past that they see nothing. I do.
You have returned for the good of Xur and Xur alone, with an armada of Ko-Dan
warships behind you. I knew you to be a megalomaniac, but I did not think you
so complete a fool. Or do you really think the Ko-Dan will let you rule as you
wish?"
"The Ko-Dan see in me a ruler more sympathetic to their long-term goals than
the present members of the Council."
"Their goal is nothing less than total domination of the League and all its
peoples."
"On the contrary. Your xenophobia has blinded you, Father, as it has blinded
all on the Council. The
Ko-Dan desire only friendship and good relations with the League worlds." Xur [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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