The Last Starfighter by Alan Dean Foster Read Free Book Online Page B

some creep know about his achievements on the game? And this wasn’t Los Angeles or New York.
    Still, there was the fancy car, and the fact that it was dark and quiet out. Alex read the papers, followed the nightly news on channel three. He didn’t want to end up a surprised corpse in some irrigation ditch.
    “Maybe I’d better get my mom out here. If I’ve won something she’ll need to know about it, and if there are forms to sign, I’m not twenty-one yet. I’ll need a co-signer and . . .”
    “Do you think I am some threadbare charlatan?” Centauri was suddenly angry. “I am Centauri , and you may . . . you must . . . trust me implicitly! There are no forms to sign, and you may inform your maternal parent of the honor you have been selected to receive in good time.
    “For now, though, time and secrecy are of the essence. Do I look like some metropolitan pervert scrounging the back alleys and streets in search of the innocent to debase? Is that what you’re thinking of me, my boy?”
    “Well, uh . . . no,” Alex replied, trying to hide the fact that the thought had occurred to him. Then he had an idea which made him feel much better.
    “You say you invented Starfighter?”
    The old man nodded. “That’s right. Devised the look and format all by myself.”
    “Then can you tell me what appears on the screen on the eighth attack level?”
    Centauri didn’t hesitate. “Ko-Dan Pack Fighters in squads of six guarding six landing ships equipped for taking control of civilian targets.”
    Alex relaxed. No passing weirdo would know that, even if he’d played the game on occasion. Eighth level was rarified territory. Some of his initial excitement returned as he climbed into the car.
    The interior was more spacious than he’d expected. There was lots of legroom and a complex array of digital instrumentation visible all around, none of which he recognized. Not that he was any expert on what pinafarina might have put on the road that year. The back of the car was solid. There was no rear window.
    Something moved away from him and he sensed another presence close by, though he couldn’t see a face.
    “Oh yes,” said Centauri. “Say hello to my assistant, Beta.”
    “Betty?”
    “No, Beta.”
    “Is he Greek?”
    “Not hardly.” The old man grinned.
    Alex strained but couldn’t make out any features in the dark. The car’s bulk blocked out most of the light from the trailer park and the instrument panels up front were lit by subdued illumination.
    He reached out to shake hands. “Hello.”
    There was a tiny spark that made him jerk his hand back and look quickly at his fingers.
    “Static electricity,” said Centauri smoothly. “You know the problems you can have with these foreign models.”
    “Yeah, sure.” While he was engaged in inspecting his still tingling hand, the other passenger had disembarked, still without giving Alex a clear look at his face. He appeared to be a young man, about Alex’s size. More than that Alex hadn’t been able to tell.
    He turned back to the driver. “Centauri’s the name of the star nearest Earth, isn’t it?”
    “Sure is. Alpha Centauri. And Beta Centauri. I assure you I am not related to my assistant, except through common interests.” He nodded outside. “He has business of his own to attend to and will not be rejoining us.”
    “Funny name,” Alex murmured.
    “Now what makes you say that?” Centauri sounded hurt. “Plenty of people are named after stars. There’s Carina, and Andromeda, and Lyra, and . . .”
    “Okay, okay. I take it back. So it’s not a funny name. I just never met anyone named Centauri before, that’s all.”
    “It’s more distinctive than Joe, isn’t it? Better a distinctive name for a distinctive personality.”
    “What about my prize? Or honor, or whatever you want to call it?”
    “Ah yes. I really must congratulate you on your virtuoso handling of the game, my boy. Centauri’s impressed, and that ought to impress