Douglas Adams's Starship Titanic (12 page)

D
an wasn't quite sure why he was surprised to find that there were cells on the
Starship Titanic
. It made sense in a way, he supposed, and yet they seemed totally out of place amidst all this luxury and elegance. The cell that he and The Journalist had been thrown into was, as cells tend to be, bare and cold. It was also damp, which is certainly what you expect cells to be but a bit surprising on such a technologically advanced vehicle.

'Lucy is such a good flick,' said The Journalist, shaking his head in admiration. 'You are a lucky man!'

'Look,' said Dan, 'I hate to disabuse you, but on Earth our attitude to these sorts of things is not the same as you Blerontinians…'

'You're telling me!' exclaimed The Journalist. 'When Lucy first suggested we have sex I could hardly believe my ears!'

'She did what?' exclaimed Dan.

'Well — we thought that the bomb was going to explode any second and she just kind of… Hey! Come to think of it! D'you think your other friend — what's her name?'

'She
suggested
… you make love?'

'The blonde one — Nightie!'

'Nettie.'

'D'you think Nettie knows about talking to the bomb?'

'I don't believe Lucy "suggested" you make love!' replied Dan.

'That was when I first realized how different sexual attitudes must be on your planet!'

Dan went a bit quiet. In all the years he had known Lucy, and what was it? Oh! it must be all of thirteen years now (probably more since they'd been travelling at the speed of light!) and in all those years he couldn't remember Lucy initiating a single sexual act. In the early years, he would sometimes lie awake at night, waiting to see if she would start, but he finally gave up. She was always perfectly happy to make love — but he had to make the first approach. He'd always assumed that was just how she was.

'Hey! Jailer!' The Journalist was yelling out of the bars.

'The! Is that you?' Lucy's voice came from the cell down the row.

'Lucy!' cried The Journalist. 'Pipes of Pangalin! I want to screw the arse off you!'

'STOP IT!' screamed Dan, and he threw himself at The Journalist. The two of them rolled around the sodden floor of their cell, with Dan punching and kicking and The (surprised) Journalist trying to defend himself.

'Dan! DAN! Is that you?' Lucy was yelling. She could hear them fighting. 'Stop that! We've got to save our strength! We've got to get out of here!'

'Lucy's right!' The Journalist panted, and suddenly the fight went out of Dan. Suddenly he found himself wondering why he was so jealous.

'Why did you attack me?' asked The Journalist.

Dan was just about to explain about the history of sexual mores on Earth, but he stopped himself. 'Look!' he said instead. 'Let's call a truce. Just don't talk about sex for the rest of the day, all right?'

'If you'd rather… But don't worry about me. I'm not shocked by the laxity of your Earth morals…'

'Just shut up about it for a few minutes!'

'OK!' replied The Journalist.

'Now,' said Dan. 'Suppose you tell me everything you know about this Starship that we're all stuck on, and then maybe together we can figure a way to get off it.'

'Dan! I love you!' shouted Lucy from her cell.

'I love you too!' Dan shouted back.

'Me too!' shouted The Journalist.

Dan fought back the urge to hit him and said: 'Tell me what you know.'

And so The Journalist told Dan about how the construction of the
Starship Titanic
had bankrupted the planet of Yassacca, and how Star-Struct, Inc., had then removed the construction work, without paying their debts. He told Dan of the rumours of financial trouble that had dogged the building of the ship on Blerontin, of the suspected shoddy workmanship of the Unmarried Teenage Mothers employed on the work, and how corners had been cut. He told Dan of Leovinus, the architect, engineer, artist, composer and greatest general all-round genius in the Galaxy, and how he had met him on the night before the launch. He told Dan of his meeting with Scraliontis, the accountant, who had told him of the bomb and the plot to scuttle the great Starship and claim the insurance, shortly before plunging to his death after being attacked by a parrot.

The Journalist then told Dan how, despite his wounds, he had decided to stow away on board in order to get the great scoop that had always hitherto eluded him in his career as a journalist he'd expose the full story behind the construction of the Starship and, at the same time, give a first hand account of what it was like to be the only passenger on board. (The idea had been to launch the ship on automatic, before flying her to Dormillion, where she was to pick up her first crew and passengers.)

The Journalist then told Dan about how the ship had suffered a SMEF (Spontaneous Massive Existence Failure) shortly after launch and how it had crash-landed on some unknown planet in the unexplored backside of the Galaxy. He finally described how, after the crash, he had heard cries coming from one of the curtains in the First Class Dining Room. He had then discovered Leovinus where he had been left for dead by Scraliontis. The Journalist had freed him and then tried to stop the old man from rushing off the ship — but to no avail. Despite his age, Leovinus had overpowered him (The Journalist had still been losing blood at this stage) and — screaming for revenge, waving, a glowing silver shard in his hand and presumably imagining he was still on Blerontin — the great genius had disappeared into the darkness of an alien world…

'Captain Bolfass wants to see you.' Their jailer suddenly cut across the long story. He jangled his keys as he opened the door to the wretched cell, and pulled The Journalist out.

Captain Bolfass had escorted the beautiful Nettie to the Captain's Bridge. There he had invited her to take a little tea and some cinnamon biscuit, while he made the necessary arrangements to fly the great Starship back to the planet Earth.

'Without wishing to sound disrespectful,' he explained to her, 'it is not a planet with which I am familiar — though, of course, it must be the most delightful world, to be the home of someone as lovely and as charming as yourself.' He bowed, and Nettie felt the thrill of being treated like the heroine of
Northanger Abbey
.

'I am sure you are more than capable of guiding us home,' she said, lowering her eyes.

'Ah! My dear lady!' exclaimed the Captain. 'It is not I who will guide us but the ship itself. The exact location of the planet Earth will have been recorded in the Starship's central intelligence core. Although none of us have any idea of where your planet is to be found, all I have to do is to tell Titania — that is what Leovinus named his cybernautic system — and she will locate it and take us there.'

Captain Bolfass pressed a small button on one of the consoles, next to a video game based on a recent Blerontinian film… and that is where the novel suddenly ceased to be one by Jane Austen or even Catherine Cookson.

'Barthfarthinghasts!' exclaimed Bolfass. 'Something's wrong! I'm getting no response!'

Nettie, who had felt the Earth and home to be very close indeed — a mere button-push away — now saw it suddenly recede into deep space.

'Captain Bolfass!' Corporal Buke-Willinujit (the cousin by marriage of Corporal Buke-Hammadorf) had just arrived out of breath and nervous.'The central intelligence core! Someone's removed the vital functions!'

Bolfass turned to Yellin, who was busy with one of the shoot-'em-up games. 'This is the work of that Blerontinian vandal! Bring him up at once!'

By the time The Journalist was thrown at his feet, Bolfass had become quite angry — not as angry as if he had known about the substandard materials used for the railing around the Central Well, or if he had known about the scandalous lack of finish in the bilge and rubbish-disposal wastes (where the Unmarried Teenage Mothers had been told not to rub down or even apply any varnish!), but still pretty angry.

'What have you done to Titania's brain?' he roared.

The Journalist stuck his chin out and said: 'I can only give you my name, rank and number.'

'This isn't
The Great Escape
!'
[
The Great Escape
— the name of a famous Blerontin film celebrating the true story of how the cream of the Blerontinian space fleet, held prisoners in the supposedly impregnable fortress of Drat-Kroner, contrived a mass escape. Oddly enough it also starred Steve McQueen.] exclaimed Bolfass, swivelling a light into The Journalist's eyes. 'Tell me what you know! Or I shall let Horst here do his worst!'

'My lips are sealed!' countered The Journalist, turning his head away.

'Very well! You leave me no choice!' snarled Bolfass and he struck The Journalist across the face with his leather glove.

'All right!' said The Journalist. 'I'll tell you anything you want! Anything!'

'Don't you want to be tortured a little more first?'

'No! I'd rather tell you now.'

'Very well! We know you've sabotaged Titania's brain to prevent us returning to Yassacca! Tell us what you've done with the parts!'

The Journalist looked surprised. 'Scraliontis didn't tell me about that part of the plot!'

'What plot?' Bolfass secretly admired his Blerontinian adversary for his ability to remain cool under circumstances when a lesser man would have cracked. 'It's a pity,' he thought, 'we aren't fighting this war on the same side. On the other hand, we're not actually fighting a war at all.' Bolfass made an effort to pull himself together.

The Journalist then told everything he knew about Scraliontis's and Brobostigon's plot to scuttle the great Starship and claim the insurance. Bolfass listened in white-laced anger. Nettie could see the rage boiling up within him.

'It's not this fellow's fault!' she cried out.

Bolfass hesitated — his hand was already on his SD gun — but something in the tone of Nettie's voice stilled the fury inside him. He left his gun alone.

'Scraliontis and Brobostigon were on the ship the night before the launch,' said The Journalist. 'They wouldn't have wanted to attract attention by going in and out of it, so I imagine whatever they took out of the central intelligence system, they'll have hidden somewhere on board.'

'Sounds feasible,' said Assmal, the other Yassaccan commander, who up to this point had been doing fantastically well at the Tetrus game.

'Very well!' said Bolfass. 'We will search the ship from prow to keel. Those parts must be found or we will never get Nettie back to her own planet. Indeed, we will find it hard enough to limp back to Yassacca as it is!'

'I think we can make it, Captain!' said Rodden, the navigational engineer. 'We are in the Starius Zone E-D 3278 of the Praxima-Betril Section of the Inner Galaxy. I can get us home by dead reckoning, so long as Assmal can get manual control of the ship's power.'

Assmal nodded. 'I have control now of enough functions to be able to steer. But it will be a long trip — several hours at least.'

And so, the great
Starship Titanic
turned its vast bulk in the star-bright darkness of space and began its weary journey back to the planet of Yassacca.

T
he search for the missing parts of the Starship's brain proved more difficult than anyone could have anticipated. This was mainly owing to the fact that the ship's robots were becoming increasingly eccentric in their behaviour. The Doorbots were beginning to hallucinate — opening the doors for non-existent First Class Passengers' pets and being charming to waste-disposal units. The Liftbots had gone into a permanent decline, convinced that the only way to avoid the end of civilization as they knew it was to eat less protein. The Dustbots kept dashing out from the skirting and depositing on the floor bits of fluff large enough to trip everyone up.

But the biggest problem was in the main bar of the ship, where the Barbot was trapped in some strange cyberpsychotic loop, despite the fact that they could all clearly see a piece of Titania's brain amongst the coloured glasses and bottles on the shelf behind him.

'Yes yes sir! Jiff be with you… Cock this tail mix, have you just, sir…' The Barbot veered between the charmingly incomprehensible and belligerently drunk.

'Just give us that piece of cyberware on the shelf there…' tried Corporal Golholiwol. But the Barbot simply bit his nose. 'Ow!' cried Corporal Golholiwol.

Every attempt to climb over the bar and get at the object was met with a surprising show of force from the Barbot, and the peace-loving Yassaccans were forced into retreat.

By the time all but one of the missing parts were eventually located, the
Starship Titanic
was within sight of the planet Yassacca.

Returning home was always the Jailer's favourite thing in life. Soon he would have his feet up beside a blazing hearth. A jug of Old-Fashioned Beer would be in his hand, and his family would be running here and there preparing the evening meal or playing games on the porch in the setting sun.

He was therefore whistling a rather jolly tune as he unlocked the cell door and indicated to Dan that he was a free man.

Had Dan been more musical, he would have recognized the Jailer's tune as none other than 'Mademoiselle from Armentiers' — a French tune popular during the First World War. The reason why the Jailer came to be whistling it is not unconnected to the smuggling of French champagne to Blerontin via the time warp previously mentioned. For, if the truth were known, the Jailer was none other than Corporal Pilliwiddlipillipitit — the notorious smuggler and leader of the infamous Pilliwiddlipillipitit Gang, which was one of the unpleasant manifestations of organized crime that had sprung up since the ruin of the Yassaccan economy. Pilliwiddlipillipitit had disguised himself as an ordinary corporal in the Yassaccan space fleet, in order to reconnoitre the
Starship Titanic
for possible plunder at a later date. But that is another story.

The moment he was free, Dan made a beeline for Lucy, who was standing on the Captain's Bridge with The Journalist and Nettie, watching the great globe of the approaching planet, through the window.

'Lucy!' he whispered. 'Can we go and talk somewhere private?'

'Not now!' Lucy whispered back. 'Look! Isn't that the most amazing sight you've ever seen?'

'It reminds me of your breasts,' murmured The Journalist. Dan fought back an urge to kill The Journalist on the spot, and, instead, grabbed Lucy by the arm and dragged her to the other end of the Bridge.

'You suggested it! He said you did!' Dan was trying to sound more indignant and accusing than plaintive but it was coming out more like a total and utter whine.

'Dan! It was just a weak moment…'

'Why have you never had any "weak moments" with me? In the thirteen years…'

'Just what the hell are you talking about, Dan? We have a great sex life, don't we?' Lucy was getting mad at him.

'Well…yes…It's just..'

'You're just so goddamned jealous! You think I'm screwing every man who finds me attractive!'

'I never said that!' As usual, Dan could feel the conversation spiralling out of his control. As it happened, however, he was rescued from the inevitable dialectical humiliation by a remarkable and dangerous turn of events that was to alter the whole course of this story.

Bolfass had been pointing out the continents and countries of Yassacca to Nettie. He felt his heart beating fast — partly with the pride he felt in his own world but more because Nettie had taken hold of his arm and was gazing out beside him in wonder and admiration. Bolfass could have practically swooned on the spot. He could smell the scent of that beautiful creature beside him, he could feel the gentle touch of her soft hands upon his arm, and he could feel her heart beating behind her firm breast close against him. Bolfass hardly knew what he was saying.

'And there, dear lady, you can see the Ocean of Summer-Plastering. That is the land known as Finepottery, oh! And over there, dear lady, if you were to turn your eyes you could see my own country: Carpenters Islands. It is a fine place, peopled by noble craftsmen and technicians of the highest calibre. Or at least… it was before…' Bolfass's voice seemed to crack so that Nettie glanced down at him — his rugged features were clouded by a furrow of sadness.

'Before what, Captain Bolfass?'Nettie asked softly.

'Ah, Nettie, I don't want to burden you with the problems of our world,' replied the gallant Captain.

'I should like to know.' Nettie took the Captain's hand in hers and stroked it gently, and I think the good Captain would have fainted then and there for sheer pleasure had not a movement around the perimeter of the planet distracted him.

'Rodden! What's that?' Bolfass had suddenly become tense.

The Navigational Officer peered into the distant haze around Yassacca. He put his binofocals to his eyes and an involuntary gasp escaped him.

'Blerontinians!' he murmured.

Bolfass grabbed the binofocals. Yes! He could see clearly a whole fleet of fighter spaceships with Blerontinian registration plates, but no other markings. They were clearly not official Blerontin Space fleet.

'Mercenaries!' muttered Assmal.

'They mean trouble!' said Yellin.

'Quick!' yelled Bolfass, 'Every man to arms! And turn off the SD feature. We shall shoot real ammunition!'

There was a buzz amongst the Yassaccans as they leapt into action, grabbing weapons and racing to predetermined positions. The idea of firing real ammunition instead of Simulated Destruction charges was both exciting and terrifying to them. Of course, they had used live ammo when they first attacked the Starship, but that was just against an inanimate object — this time they would he firing at living targets. Naturally they wouldn't aim directly at the enemy, that went without saying, but there would be a lot of exciting repair work to look forward to!

Bolfass's face suddenly darkened, and he turned gravely to Nettie. 'Nettie!' he said. 'I am so sorry to do this, and I hope you will be able to forgive me, but I must regretfully ask you and your friends to retire to a safe quarter, whilst we are engaged with the enemy.'

While Bolfass had been saying this, the Blerontinian mercenaries had streaked (at just under light-speed) up to the Starship, and had now surrounded it. There must have been fifty or sixty craft — a typical ragbag assortment of spaceships converted to military use. Such ad-hoc fleets had become a familiar sight in the space-skies around this sector of the Galaxy, ever since the breakdown of economic co-operation between worlds and the destabilisation of the Intergalactic Security Council.

Suddenly a harsh voice boomed out over the Starship's loudspeaker system: 'This is the official space fleet of the Magna-Corps Insurance Company of Blerontin. We are acting under licence and according to Blerontinian Law on behalf of the Loss Adjustors appointed to liquidate the remaining assets of the Star-Struct Construction Company, Starship Titanic Holdings, Ltd., and Starlight Travel, Inc., as per the insurance schedule para 6 subsection 3. On behalf of the above-named Insurance Company, we hereby repossess this Starship as lawful property of the said Insurance Company. Please leave quietly and in an orderly fashion.'

'Snork Piddlers!' yelled Bolfass. He knew how to work the ship's communication systems, and his voice rang round the mercenaries' spacecraft so loudly they could hear it from the Starship. 'We built this ship! We lavished our care and craftsmanship on it without stint and without grudge! We bought the finest materials and ran into debt trying to meet the wonderfully high specifications ordered by Mr Leovinus. We were never paid a penny. Then, when the construction was taken from us, we and our families were faced with poverty and hunger. This ship is ours by every moral right in the Galaxy. What is more we claim it by right of salvage! We found it, and we have brought it hack to its rightful place! Go suck yourselves!'

Even as he spoke, four of the mercenary boarding-craft clanged into the side of the Starship. Grappling irons were attached to the hull and the airlocks of the
Titanic
were broached from the outside.

At the same moment the air around the mercenaries burst into light and smoke and noise, as the Yassaccans launched a furious counterattack.

All this while, Nettie, Dan, Lucy and The Journalist had found themselves back under arrest and being hurried towards the cells by half a dozen agitated Yassaccan guards. They were about halfway along the Grand Axial Canal when an advance patrol of Blerontinian mercenaries suddenly burst out of the Embarkation Lobby and opened fire. The three Earth people and The Journalist threw themselves onto the floor, but the Yassaccans, used as they were to SD weapons, hesitated for a second and in that second they lost it. Corporal Inchbewigglit and Corporal Kazitinker-Rigipitil made it to the deck but Corporals Yarktak, Bunzlywotter, Tidoloft and Forzab received direct hits. They clutched their chests and their weapons clattered to the floor.

Nettie was the first to throw herself onto one of the fallen weapons and without hesitation she turned it on the mercenaries. Considering she had never even handled a shotgun, back on Earth, Nettie seemed to master the Yassaccan 'blaster' with remarkable ease. It seemed obvious to her where to hold it, and she'd noticed the trigger just below one of the firing chambers. She aimed it, squeezed the trigger, flame blasted out of the barrels and two mercenaries fell to the ground.

'No! No!' yelled Corporal Inchbewigglit in alarm. 'Aim above their heads!'

'Not on your life!' yelled Nettie, and brought down another Blerontinian. By this time Lucy, Dan and The Journalist had each grabbed hold of another of the spare weapons and started blasting away at their attackers.

Their Yassaccan guards were clearly shocked. The Blerontinians, for their part, were taken totally by surprise. They were used to standing up to the fury of Yassaccan SD guns, and — in extreme circumstances, they were used to Yassaccans firing over their heads with real weapons. But this was something new! It was also very alarming! The few Blerontinians who remained standing looked at their fallen comrades, they looked back at their adversaries who even now were blasting straight at them. Without waiting for another volley to hit them, they turned and fled.

The Yassaccan guards were flabbergasted. Never, in the history of their nations, had Blerontinians fled before Yassaccan gunfire!

Nettie, meanwhile, had raced forwards to the doors of the Embarkation Lobby. There she continued to blast away at the retreating Blerontinians — this time firing above their heads. But the mercenaries were in no mood to stick around to see what she was aiming at — they were already back in the airlock and had slammed the door shut.

'Mind the paintwork!' gasped Corporal Inchbewigglit.

'Well done!' cried Dan, who had just reached Nettie, She was breathing hard and Dan could feel the heat coming off her body as he stood close behind her. Suddenly she span round.

'Oh my God!The bomb!' she exclaimed and pulled the mobile phone from her pocket.

'Two…' said the bomb. 'One… '

'Hi, bomb! It's Nettie!'

'Hi, Nettie…'

'Are you all right,bomb?'

There was silence. For a moment, Dan thought they'd lost it.

'Bomb? Are you there, bomb?' Nettie called into the phone. But still the bomb didn't reply.

'Bomb!' Dan had grabbed the phone.

'Oh! Of course! Let the man do it!' said Nettie.

'Bomb?Are you there?' Dan wasn't listening to Nettie. 'Speak to me!'

'I was speaking to Nettie,' said the bomb in a sulky voice.

'Oh,' said Dan and handed the phone back to Nettie. 'Sorry,' he whispered.

'This is Nettie,' said Nettie into the phone. Again the bomb remained silent. 'Bomb?' she repeated.

Again silence.

'Bomb!' a note of urgency had crept into Nettie's voice. 'Speak to me!'

Then the bomb spoke… very quietly… 'I'm a Mega-Scuttler…' it said.

'Is that your name?' asked Nettie.

'Yes,' said the bomb. 'I'm a bomb.'

'I know you are,' replied Nettie.

'I like hearing your voice, Nettie,' said the bomb.

'I like hearing yours, bomb,' replied Nettie.

'You're not… just saying that?'

'No, I'm not. For an electronic voice you have a very soft one. It's nice.' For a moment Nettie thought the bomb was crying; 'Won't you start counting down again for me?'