Only You Can Save Mankind by Terry Pratchett

forward, ramming him back in his seat. That was one good thing about game space—you could do the kind of turns and maneuvers that, in real space, would leave the human body looking like thin pink linoleum across the cabin wall….
    The fleet slid past, dwindling to a collection of dots behind him. A couple of laser beams crackled past, but some way away; it looked as though they were trying to frighten him off rather than kill him.
    The ScreeWee had turned around. They were heading back deeper into game space. Why? They’d show up on people’s screens soon! There were always some players who’d go looking. Any day now some kid’d switch on his machine and there’d be wall-to-wall ScreeWee, heading straight for him. They weren’t safe even now. Yes—there were always some people who’d go looking….
    And there was a green dot ahead of him. He recognized the way it moved, like a dog creeping around the edge of a sheep field.
    He headed toward it.
    Now he could remember. You thought better in game space, too. It was as if he was more him in game space. Krystal or Kylie or one of those made-up names, Wobbler had said. And Bigmac said the other name was Dunn….
    He twirled the knob of the communicator panel.
    “Krystal?” he tried. “Kylie? Kathryn? Whatever?”
    There was just the hiss of the stars, and then: “It’s Kirsty, actually.”
    “Don’t fire!” said Johnny, quickly.
    “Who are you?”
    “Don’t fire, first. Promise? I hate dying. It makes it hard to think.”
    The other ship had stopped being a dot now. If she was going to fire, he was as good as dead—if dead was good.
    “All right,” she said slowly. “No firing. Peace talk. Now tell me who you are.”
    “I’m a player, like you,” said Johnny.
    “No you’re not. None of the other players talk to me. Anyway, you’re on their side. I’ve been watching you.”
    “Not…exactly on their side,” said Johnny.
    “Well, you’re not on my side,” said Kirsty. “No one is.”
    “Did they try to surrender to you too? I heard you say in Patel’s shop that they’d sent you a message.”
    There was another silence filled with the whispers of the universe, and then a cautious voice: “You’re not the fat one who looks as though he could do with a bra, are you?”
    “No. Listen—” Johnny tapped his controls hurriedly.
    “The black one who looks like an accountant?”
    “No. Look—”
    “Oh, no…not the skinny one with the big boots and the pointy head…?”
    “No, I’m the one who kind of hangs around and no one notices much,” said Johnny desperately.
    “Who? I didn’t see anyone.”
    “Right! That was me!”
    “They surrendered to you?”
    “Yes!” Number three missile went ping as it locked onto her ship. Now for number four—
    “But you’re a nerd!”
    Ping!
    “I think it’s dweeb now. Anyway, I’m more than a dweeb.”
    Ping!
    “Why?”
    “I’m a dweeb with five missiles targeted on you.”
    “You said you weren’t going to fire!”
    “I haven’t yet.”
    “You said this was a peace talk!”
    “You did. Anyway, it is. It’s just that I’m…kind of shouting.”
    If he concentrated, he thought he could hear music in the background when she spoke.
    “You’ve really got missiles targeted on me?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m amazed you thought of it.”
    “So am I. Look, I don’t want to shoot anyone. But I need help. The fleet’s turned around. They fired at me!”
    “That’s their job, dweeb. They fire at us, we fire at them. Why did they stop? It’s no fun if they don’t fire back.”
    “They surrendered.”
    “They can’t surrender. It’s a game.”
    “Well, they did. Sometimes you change the game. I don’t know, Kirsty!”
    “Listen, I hate that name!”
    “I’ve got to call you something,” said Johnny. “What do you call yourself?”
    “If you tell anyone else I’ll kill you—”
    “I thought you were planning to do that anyway.”
    “I don’t mean just kill you, I mean