And Another Thing... Part 24

Sure. Absolutely. Who-church?

That's my boy.

tiny voice: Fenchurch. Never forget.

Ford I can go for eight minutes without blinking. Eight minutes, surely that's some kind of record? Not blinking is so relaxing. I was a little relaxed before I boarded this s.h.i.+p, but now I am positively comatose, or is that comma toes? Which would make sense because my toes do look like little commas, which is quite a scary thought for some reason.

Beer, beer, wonderful beer. The more you drink the more you fear.

Goosnargh! I've been a fool. I know what I have to do. I need to write something for the Guide Guide about this s.h.i.+p in case the publishers ever manage to oust those Vogons. My goodness, it will be a sensation. How many mortals can have travelled inside the about this s.h.i.+p in case the publishers ever manage to oust those Vogons. My goodness, it will be a sensation. How many mortals can have travelled inside the Tanngrisnir Tanngrisnir? I don't know. Not many, I bet, and the next one to manage it will be pretty relieved to find a comforting and informative entry in The Hitchhiker's Guide The Hitchhiker's Guide. Right. What to submit. Something concise, don't give those b.a.s.t.a.r.d editors much to play with. But stylish. Something that says 'Ford Prefect' all over it and yet captures the essence of such a cool, golden s.h.i.+p. My last submission was a little wordy. So cut it down. Get straight to the issues. Immediately to the matter at hand, directly point bound. Relevance on the horizon, captain.

Ahah! I've got it. There is only one word that encapsulates both my spirit and that of this wonderful vehicle. One beloved term, equally popular among the old groans and the young grins. A collection of syllables as beautiful as it is useful: Froody.

They gathered on the bridge to watch the descent towards the new blue planet.

Ford stepped close to a curved wall and it bubbled into transparency.

'I wanted the wall to do that,' said Ford, grinning. 'I thought it and the s.h.i.+p did it.'

The view was undeniably spectacular and even Wowbagger took his eyes from Trillian's profile for a moment to appreciate the expanse of waves, flecked with golden sunlight, flas.h.i.+ng past below the prow.

'It is... nice,' he said in the tone of a Blaslessian parolee who has just had his taste buds returned to him after a twenty-year stretch. 'Yes. Nice.'

Trillian wrapped her arms around his bicep. 'Nice? It's fabulous, spectacular. I thought you were supposed to have a way with words.'

'Not the good ones,' said Wowbagger, smiling. 'I have had no need of them for some time, thanks to all those jumentous mortals. Present company excepted.'

Random brushed past, accidentally accidentally bas.h.i.+ng Wowbagger with her elbow. bas.h.i.+ng Wowbagger with her elbow.

'Most of the present company excepted.'

Random smiled sweetly. 'I would just like to say, Mr Wowbagger, that I really hope you die today, just like you want.'

'Random!' said Trillian, shocked. 'What a terrible thing to say. And anyway, it's not going to happen. Zaphod Beeblebrox never followed through on a threat or a promise in his life.'

Wowbagger smiled down at her. 'Don't worry. It's the dark s.p.a.ce. People's emotions get amplified; they say things they don't mean. She'll settle down.'

'Don't count on it,' said Random, scowling.

But Trillian wasn't listening. People's emotions get amplified People's emotions get amplified, she thought. They say things they don't mean They say things they don't mean.

'Oh my G.o.d,' said the computer excitedly, suddenly sounding like a teenage fan girl. 'It's Thor. On the other side of the island. I'm picking up Thor, I don't believe it. I wonder does he remember me?'

Wowbagger's brow tightened. 'Are you sure?'

'Of course I'm sure, silly. I've got over a million matches on the facial software.'

'Don't be cheeky, computer, just set us down.'

'Where? Beside the Thunder G.o.d?'

Wowbagger turned away from Trillian. 'No. Set us down here. I need time to think.'

Good, thought Trillian. I need time to think myself I need time to think myself.

Good, thought Random. I need time for my special delivery to arrive I need time for my special delivery to arrive.

Cong 'Zaphod Beeblebrox,' said Hillman, as though the name itself was a curse, which on several planets it had indeed become. 'Zaphod f.e.c.kin' Beeblebrox.'

Zaphod was reclining on a sun lounger in the plaza, two boots off, three sleeves rolled up.

'You keep saying that, Hillman. As though me being here is a bad thing instead of the solution to all your problems.'

'The solution to all what problems?'

'What problems do you have?' said Zaphod equably.

Hillman drummed his fingers on the table, something he hoped the waitress would notice and for G.o.d's sake come and take his order. He stopped in mid-drum.

'Well, we have no waitresses for a start. They're all down on the beach colony with the personal trainers. And they took all the booze.'

Zaphod reached for his boots. 'Well, it's been great chatting to you, Hillman. If you could just point me in the direction of this beach colony.'

'It's all your b.l.o.o.d.y fault, Zaphod. Everything was fine until the western towns.h.i.+p showed up. Tyropolis, can you believe that name? Their staff revolted even before ours did.' He poked a finger at Zaphod. 'Do you realize that some of the good people here are forced to do their own colonics? What kind of civilization is that?'

'Every new society has teething problems. You need to work through them with diplomacy and alcohol.'

'Teething problems? That nut job Preflux is a bit more than a teething problem.'

Zaphod tried to hold in a giggle, but it shot out his nose.

'What's so funny, Beeblebrox?'

'Oh, nothing.'

'No, please share. I insist.'

'It's just that you called Aseed Preflux a nut job.'

'So what. He is is a b.l.o.o.d.y nut job.' a b.l.o.o.d.y nut job.'

'If he is, so are you.'

Hillman frowned. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Well, he is you and you are him. Don't tell me you haven't noticed?'

'That's a load of horse manure,' said Hillman, but there was a plate of cold dread in his stomach that knew it was true.

'The western towns.h.i.+p? Tyropolis? That's you guys from another dimension. I made a bundle off you the first time, so I thought, hey, why not do this again. I was on my way for a third group when BOOM, here come the Vogons.'

'So the Earth is gone?'

'Utterly and for ever. Even Arkle Schmarkle and all of his horde, couldn't put that planet together once more.'

'What?'

'It's an old Betelgeusean nursery rhyme. Arkle Schmarkle was a little kid who glued eggs together after they fell off walls. Tragic ending.'

'I see. Anyway, to get back to this planet: I am Aseed Preflux? I am that pompous, deluded moron? That's what you're saying?'

Zaphod snapped the fingers of his third hand, something that had taken him months to learn. 'Badabingo. Well, you're not him exactly. You're a version of him from a couple of million Universes down the axis, which is why there are all the little differences. The name, of course. You have the paunch, he doesn't. You dye your hair, he's still naturally red. That sort of thing.'

Hillman didn't even have the energy to protest the hair dye slur. It was one thing to know that there were an infinite number of alternate Hillman Hunters; it was quite another to be at war with one of them.

'I can't believe this,' he spluttered eventually. 'You set me up, Beeblebrox. You pitted me against myself.'

Zaphod slapped his own cheeks and chest in mock horror. 'I set you up? Me? That's preposteraneous. I was just trying to make a few bucks. You knew there would be other colonists, Hillman. It's not my fault you ape descendants will fight with anyone, even versions of yourselves.' Zaphod suddenly sat bolt upright. 'Holy shankwursters! I'm right, aren't I? I just made a valid point.'

Hillman fumed silently, tugging on his goatee. Beeblebrox did have a point. He had saved their lives and transported them to a new Eden. It was hardly his fault if the human race screwed it up all over again. Hillman glanced across the square to where Buff Orpington was acting like a kid on a sugar drip, running in circles around Thor, tongue hanging out, twirling the golf club.

'The settlement has been falling apart, Zaphod,' admitted Hillman. 'I could really use a G.o.d.'

Zaphod tried to look surprised, as if this was not exactly where he'd hoped the conversation would go. 'Well, I do have a G.o.d.'

'Is that the real Thor? Really, is it?'

'It really is and I am his manager.'

Hillman flapped his lips. 'What? So even G.o.ds cost money now?'

'Wake up, Hillman. G.o.ds have always cost money. But I can do you a deal.'

'Would we have exclusive rights?'

'I couldn't promise that. Thor is in the big league. A cla.s.s-one deity. There are a lot of cultures who want to adore him.'

'And is he omnipresent?'

'No, but he's pretty fast.'

Hillman thought about it. Having a G.o.d of Thor's stature could get this planet back on the straight and narrow. Aseed Preflux's wheel of cheese wouldn't last long against a big hammer like Thor's, and the staff might think twice about neglecting their duties if they had to answer to the G.o.d of Thunder.

'When could he start?'

Something beeped in Zaphod's pocket and he patted himself down until he located the tiny computer card that Wowbagger had given him.

'Almost immediately,' he said, reading the screen. 'Thor just has one little bit of divine retribution to hand out. You guys might want to watch this, test drive the merchandise, so to speak. It's going to be spectacular.' He called across the square to the G.o.d: 'Hey, Thor. Ready to go do the thing? The immortal has landed.'

'Are you sure about this?' said Thor, frowning suspiciously at Buff Orpington, who was trying to heft Mjollnir. 'I don't know if I'm ready. Did you see this guy? Is he being sarcastic or does he really think I'm great? He wants to be a priest. He wants a robe. Is that what you want, boy, is it?'

Buff nodded his jowly head and stamped the gra.s.s.

'Yeah,' he panted. 'Yeah, yeah, yeah.'

Tyropolis Wowbagger's longs.h.i.+p touched down in a beautiful rolling meadow outside the settlement and instantly a.s.sumed the shape and texture of a gra.s.sy hillock. A nearby herd of Ameglian Major cows who had been arguing over who got to sacrifice themselves to the newcomers, cursed their luck then returned to tail-painting placards which protested the Tyromancers refusal to eat them.

Wowbagger dissolved the hatch and the pa.s.sengers set grateful feet on solid earth.

'It's really nice here,' said Trillian. 'Peaceful.' At which point a hysterical cow thundered across the meadow and b.u.t.ted her in the chest, bellowing, 'Eat me! Eat me!'

Trillian jumped away from the wet, hairy snout. 'No. Ugh. I'm a... vegetarian.'

'Vegetables!' spat the cow. 'What's so special about them? Why do they get to have all the fun? Fibre and vitamins. So b.l.o.o.d.y what? I've got protein coming out my wazoo. Literally.'

Before the Tanngrisnir Tanngrisnir's pa.s.sengers could take another step, they were surrounded by a mob of angry cows.

'We're mad cows!' they chorused. 'We're mad cows.'

Arthur laughed. 'You know, that's funny, because on Earth there was a disease...'

A brown cow sidled up to Arthur. 'You're not a vegetarian, are you, sir?'

'Why, no, as a matter of fact.'

'I bet you'd gobble down a lovely sirloin, sir, with a few fingerling potatoes and a half bottle of vino.'

Arthur patted his stomach. 'I would, actually. That sounds delicious. An actual steak. Nothing replicated about that. You get what you ask for. Honest to goodness meat.' There had been a time when the idea of animals bred to dream of slaughter had horrified Arthur, but now he found a spark of acceptance and optimism in his heart.

Dark matter, he thought. It won't last It won't last.

'You've read my mind, Arthur mate,' said Ford. 'I'm not usually in favour of devouring sentient beings, but these guys are persistent.'

With one foreleg, the cow ushered Arthur and Ford towards a wood-burning barbecue.

'And how would sirs like their steak?'

'Rare,' said Ford. 'So rare a vet with shock paddles could revive it.'

'Medium for me, I think.'

The cow somehow managed to drape a napkin across its foreleg. 'Excellent. And the wine?'

Arthur had no idea what the wine situation was on this new planet. It wasn't as if they'd had time for vintages. 'Surprise me.'

Wowbagger was feeling a little hemmed in by the other cows. He had never been overly fond of talking quadrupeds. It was a phobia he was struggling to deal with.

'You creatures really should back up a little or I will be forced to fry you with my energy pistol.'