INFINITELY PROBABLE

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by the late Douglas Adams and/or Touchstone Pictures. Don't panic!

Jaglan Beta spaceport

"Can we go over this again?" Arthur Dent asked his traveling companion, Ford Prefect. "I can't keep all the names straight. Now who was Hoogi again?"

"My second mother's sister's husband," Ford explained patiently. "Father of Gern, Labra, and Jergl."

"Which Jergl?" Arthur was beginning to feel the veins on his forehead throbbing. "There are five of them! Why do there have to be five people named Jergl in your family?"

"It's a popular name," Ford shrugged. "Parents name their children after a favorite uncle, you know how it goes."

"No, I don't. I came from a very small family. Both my parents only had one sibling. There was a lot less of this five-people-with-the-same-name business in our house."

"Yeah, but it's not as much fun. I always had someone to play with." Ford got up and stretched his legs. "Where's Random?"

"She said she had to go to the ladies', and she'd be back before the shuttle left. Which doesn't leave us much time."

Random was indeed in the ladies' room, but she wasn't alone. She was currently pressed up against a sink while a young man she'd met in the canteen conducted an intense examination of her biology. Particularly the bit inside her pants.

"Flight 42 for the Betelgeuse system is now boarding. Passengers are reminded to keep their boarding pass with them at all times. Please form an orderly queue at gate 17. We repeat . . ."

Random wrenched herself away from her lover. "That's my flight," she said breathlessly. "I've got to go."

"They'll be another one. I'm not quite finished with this bit."

"I can't miss the shuttle! My dad'll kill me. This is a very important visit, he said."

"Oh? To where?"

"Betelgeuse V. Or was it Betelgeuse VII? I suppose I'll find out when I get there, if I ever do get there, which would depend highly on you letting me go. Please."

"Just a few more minutes," said the boy, whose name was incomprehensible to her. He told her to just call him Jack.

"Will all passengers for the overnight shuttle to Betelgeuse please come to gate 17? All passengers—"

Random broke away and picked her bra up off the paper towel holder. "I have to go, Jack! Give me your number, I'll call you when I get back."

"Isn't that my line? I say I'll call you, but I never do?"

"Just give me the bloody number!"

"Oh, all right." He scribbled something on a piece of paper towel. "It was fun doing biology with you."

"Oh, I'll never forget it." As Jack backed out the door, Random put herself back together. Wouldn't do to miss the flight.

"Hey!" Zaphod Beeblebrox came back from wherever he'd been all this time, only to find Arthur and Ford looking very worried. "What's wrong, guys?"

"Random's not here yet," Arthur said. "I told her what time departure was! She has a watch—one that does everything but make toast! She'd better hurry or we'll miss our flight."

"We could have her paged," Ford suggested.

The line of passengers boarding the Betelgeuse shuttle was growing shorter and shorter. They had only moments left.

"Should we go and look for her?" Zaphod asked.

"No! There isn't time! She's got to be around here somewhere. See if you can get them to hold the shuttle till she gets here."

"How?"

"I don't know! Use some of your famous charm and charisma!"

"Arthur, you're panicking," Ford said.

"Damn right I'm panicking! I'm not leaving Random behind after all the progress we've made!"

"She's stopped throwing rocks first and asking questions later, has she?" Ford still remembered how Random had hit him in the head with a rock, moments after they first met. He'd long since forgiven her, but he'd never forgotten.

"You're not funny," Arthur snapped.

"I'll go and chat up the air hostesses," Zaphod said. "You wait here in case she comes back."

"This is a final call for the overnight shuttle to Betelgeuse system. All passengers should make their way to the boarding area with their tickets ready."

As the boarding announcement repeated in several galactic languages, Random Frequent Flyer Dent hurried out of the restroom, straightening her clothing as she ran.

"Dad's going to kill me," she muttered, fumbling for her boarding pass. "I hope I don't miss the flight—"

She rounded a corner, slipped on the wet floor, went flying through the air, and landed somewhere else entirely.

"Hasn't she shown up yet?" Zaphod asked. There was a mark on his collar that looked suspiciously like lipstick.

Arthur sat clutching Random's carryon bag to him like a stuffed toy. "No, she hasn't. Are they still waiting for us?"

"They said they can't wait any longer. I asked the ticket lady, and she said they'll exchange our tickets for a later flight."

"Well, that's one worry gone," said Ford, who felt he should point out the bright side of the situation.

"Yes, but where's Random?"

"I've asked everyone," Ford said, "and no one's seen her."

Arthur felt like crying. "Twice in one lifetime," he moaned. "It isn't fair!"

"Twice?" Zaphod asked.

"Fenchurch," said Ford.

Zaphod nodded sadly, having heard the tale of Arthur's lost love, who vanished on an interstellar flight and had not been seen since. "But it's different this time, isn't it? Her name's still on the passenger list. Her luggage is here."

"Yes," said Arthur, "but where's she?"

Meanwhile, in a parallel but quite different universe:

"How much further to this Restaurant at the End of the Universe?" Arthur Dent asked his companions.

"We're nearly there!" Eddie, the ship's computer, announced.

"I suppose you'll want me to stay behind," Marvin the Paranoid Android droned. "I wouldn't want to get you down."

"You're not getting us down," Trillian tried to reassure him. "But you don't actually eat, so—"

"Whoops! Hang on!" Eddie interrupted. "We have an uninvited guest who's just materialized in the entry bay, and she doesn't look happy."

"She?" Zaphod Beeblebrox looked excited. "What's she look like, this uninvited guest?"

"Sending up a picture now!" An image of a young girl sitting on the floor of the entry bay appeared on the view screen.

"Hello?" she called towards the ceiling. "Can anyone hear me? I need to go back to the spaceport! I'll miss my shuttle! Send me back right away, do you hear me? I want to go home!"

"What's going on?" Ford Prefect asked. He unslung his towel from around his neck and held it before him like a weapon.

"This girl just turned up," Trillian explained. "Probably something to do with improbability."

"Yeah, improbability." Zaphod was nodding as if he actually understood what he'd said.

"Shouldn't someone go and . . . get her?" Arthur asked.

"We don't even know who she is yet, or what she's doing here!" Trillian said.

"Well, why doesn't someone go find out?" Arthur went down to meet this strange girl, and see what this was all about.

Random looked up as the door of the chamber opened, and a man in a worn dressing gown approached her. "Have you come to get me out of here?"

"More or less," he said. "Um, would you like to freshen up or anything?"

"Freshen up?"

"There's a bathroom just down the corridor. You can . . . um, do whatever it is women do in bathrooms. I don't really know. Or you could come up and meet everyone, I'm sure they'd like to meet you. Come along, then."

"Can't you tell me where I am?"

"Oh, of course. You're on board the Heart of Gold."

Random started; she knew that name. "Zaphod? Zaphod is here?"

"Of course he is."

"But he was supposed to be coming with us to Betelgeuse! Did he decide to bag the shuttle and take private transport instead?"

"Um . . . I don't know what you're talking about."

"If he's here, Dad must be here too. And Ford as well."

"Ford? Ford Prefect?"

"Yes! You know him?"

"He's here!"

"Is he? Can I see him?"

"Of course you can. I'll take you right up."

Random followed the strange man, happy to be back among familiar faces. At least, that's what she thought.

"What's your name, by the way?" the man asked her.

"Random," she told him.

"Really? What a strange name."

"My mum's a bit strange. What's your name?"

"Oh, Arthur. Arthur Dent."

Trillian laughed. "That's my dad's name. Fancy meeting someone with the same name as my dad."

"Well, improbability, you know . . ."

"He's taller than you, though. Dark hair—going gray on the sides. He tries to cover it up, but I think it looks good on him." She smiled. "Hasn't got a clue about anything. If it weren't for Ford, he'd have been dead long ago. Mum's got a clue or two, but she doesn't care about me anymore. Went off to be a galactic reporter."

They reached the bridge door, which slid open with a hum of satisfaction.

"Okay, here she is," Arthur announced. "Her name's Random."

Random stared around at the strange people on the bridge and wondered what was going on. "You said Zaphod was here. Where's Zaphod?"

A blonde man in dark glasses, wearing what had to be the loudest suit she'd ever seen, stood up and said, "Do I know you, darlin?"

"I doubt it," She turned to the dark-skinned man in white and asked him, "And who are you?"

"Ford Prefect," he said, holding out his hand.

She gave a bitter laugh. "No, you're not. You don't look anything like him."

She looked back at Arthur. "Is this some sort of a joke?"

"I think," Arthur said, very slowly, "that you're in the wrong universe."

"The wrong—" She looked around. They weren't joking. "Holy Zarquon. You are my dad. Another version of him, in a different reality, in which I happen to be, right now."

"Something like that," Trillian said.

Random turned on her. "You mean you don't know, Mum? I don't believe this!"

She picked up the nearest thing to hand, which happened to be Zaphod's box of Starbix, and threw it at them. "Get me out of here! I'm not supposed to be here! I'm supposed to be getting on a shuttle to Betelgeuse V!" She grabbed Ford's empty glass and threw it. It shattered against the far wall. "My dad's probably going mad right now, trying to find me! Put me back right now, before I report you to—to—"

She collapsed, sobbing, on the floor.

After an awkward moment of silence, Arthur went to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Look," he said. "We're going to do whatever it takes to get you back where you belong."

"You got that right," Zaphod muttered. "Crazy little—OW!" He rubbed the side of his head, where Trillian had slapped him. "What?"

"Really?" Random said to Arthur.

"Absolutely. Um . . . did you—did you want to have some tea first?"

"Tea?" She raised her head. "You have tea?"

"Well, it's sort of like tea. It's as close as you can get out here in interstellar space, that is."

"All right," she said. "I'll try it." She shook her head, smiling. "Dad always complained about the lack of tea wherever we went. He seemed very attached to the stuff. Wait a minute, why am I talking about him in the past tense?"

"Because he's not here," Trillian offered.

Random was about to say something to her when Marvin clanked his way over.

"I thought you ought to know," he said, "not that anyone cares what I think . . ."

"What's this?" Random asked, eyeing the bubble-headed white bot.

"This is Marvin," Arthur said. "He's our . . . um . . . robot."

"Don't pretend you care about me," Marvin droned.

"What was it you thought we ought to know?" Trillian asked him.

Random tuned them out and thought about what she had been doing when she was snatched out of her own reality and brought here. She felt a bit too embarrassed to talk about it, especially in front of her parents (but they're not your parents, they're alternate versions of your parents, aren't they?), so she decided if they asked, she'd make something up. Anything was preferable to the truth.

His name, he told her, was unpronounceable in her language; she just called him Jack. He was from Zeta Ursei, in the Proxima Minor system, or so he'd told her. He said he was a researcher in behavioral psychology, and was traveling the galaxy running "experiments" in compatible biology.

A bit later, as they pressed up against a sink in the ladies' washroom,they'd found they were very compatible. Several times, in fact. It had nearly made her miss the shuttle, and it was while she was running to catch it that she'd disappeared. He'd given her his number, but now she'd never get a chance to call him.

Mustn't think like that! I will get home, I know I will!

"Um," she said, "can I go and have a shower? Then we can have our tea."

Marvin shook his overlarge head. "That's what I was just saying. There's a leaky pipe in the shower room, and water all over the floor. You might need an extra towel or two."

"I can manage," Random said, and then realized she had no idea where this ship's idea of a linen closet was. "Um, where's--?"

"Come on," Marvin said. "Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and they make me the washroom attendant."

"I can get it! Just show me where it is!"

"Whatever you want," Marvin sighed.

Arthur laid out some toast and jam. "D'you think she wants something to eat?" he asked Trillian.

"How should I know? Why don't you ask her?"

"Well, I don't want to . . .you know . . . interrupt her or anything."

"Just knock on the door."

"Will she hear me?"

"Then raise your voice!"

Ford popped his head up. "Where's Zaphod?"

Trillian and Arthur looked around. "I don't know," Trillian said. "I suppose he's here somewhere."

"He'll turn up," Arthur said.

Just then there was a horrible scream from the bathroom.

Zaphod hadn't been spying on her, really. He'd come in to take care of business, and had heard the shower running. Looking up, he saw a dark-haired girl with her back to him, and came to the erroneous conclusion that the occupant was Trillian. She wouldn't mind sharing, would she?

He quickly stripped his clothes off and opened the shower door. Sneaking up behind her, he put a hand on her luscious bottom—

He never saw the slap coming. "Ow! What was that for? Come on, babe, it's not like we've never—"

The wet, soap-laden face that confronted him wasn't Trillian's. "What the hell are you doing?" Random demanded.

"Whoa, whoa! I can explain," Zaphod said.

Arthur and Trillian had come running when they heard the scream, and stood dumbfounded at the scene before them. "What's going on?"

Random was trying to simultaneously to hold up her towel and beat the hell out of Zaphod. "You pervert! You disgusting piece of—"

"Ow! Hey! Ow! I didn't know—ow!—it was you! I thought you were—ow! Can you stop that?"

"Get away from me! I hate you!"

"All I did was touch her on the—"

"Zaphod, let's go for a walk," Trillian said. She looked down at what he was—or rather, wasn't—wearing. "Put your clothes on first!"

"It's not like you've never seen me like this!"

"Out!" She grabbed his clothes and propelled him out the door, leaving Random and Arthur alone.

There was an awkward silence.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked.

Random clutched the towel and sighed. "I can't believe he did that! He actually put his hand on my bum! My Zaphod would never do that!"

"Yes, well, um, I imagine Trillian's giving him a good talking-to right now. Did you want your tea now?"

"Yes, I'll be right along. I'll just get dressed first." She picked up her clothes out of a puddle. "Ooh, it is leaky in here, isn't it?"

"I'll go and see if Trillian has something you can wear," Arthur said. "Just wait here, would you?"

Random wrapped her hair in a second towel and sat down on a stool. "Just as long as that sex maniac doesn't come back."

The tea was ready by the time Random emerged from the bathroom in dry clothes that almost fit her. "This looks nice," she said. "Ooh, are those lemon squares? I love lemon squares!"

"By all means, have them," Arthur said, pushing the plate over to her. "Erm . . . I'm interested to know about your reality."

"What about it?" Actually, it came out more like "Whuff 'buff iff?" since her mouth was full of lemon square.

"I'd just, um, like to know at what point the timelines diverged. What your father did that I didn't, or vice versa."

"What difference does that make?" At least she had swallowed before answering this time.

"I don't know . . ."

Random thought about it for a minute. "Well . . . he's older than you, probably by at least a decade."

"Wonder how that happened?"

"Don't ask me. Maybe different universes don't always start off at the same point or something." Random shrugged and poured some more tea.

Jaglan Beta spaceport

Arthur looked up hopefully as Ford approached, carrying a steaming paper cup in one hand.

"Is that . . .?" he began, not daring to even speak the word.

"Nope, sorry, no tea," Ford said, sitting down and handing Arthur the cup, "but they have twenty-eight varieties of flavored coffees. This is vanilla jagenberry—I remembered the extra sugar for you."

Arthur took a cautious sip. "That's not bad," he said. "Have they found anything yet?"

"No, just her boarding pass. They found that on the floor outside the ladies' loo, so the theory is that she dropped it on her way out."

"Or somebody snatched her."

"You don't know that! They haven't found any evidence of a struggle!"

"What do you think, she's locked in a broom cupboard somewhere?"

"Hey, guys!" Zaphod was carrying a plastic inflatable . . . something, which Arthur was trying not to look too closely at, and had an impossibly bright shirt on.

"Why've you changed?" Ford asked.

"Oh, no reason. The other shirt was boring me. Anyway, I've asked around, and nobody's seen her."

"Someone must have seen her!" Arthur insisted.

"I've seen her," said a woman's voice.

All heads turned to see a woman in ornate purple robes standing a few feet away. "And you are . . . ?"

"Mother Gajraga of the Church of the Holy Compass and the Sacred Teaspoon."

Ford rolled his eyes. Why did all the religious loonies congregate in spaceports?

"When did you see her?" Arthur asked.

"Not half an hour ago. She went in there—" she pointed in the direction of the restrooms—"with a young man who hangs about here quite a lot. Oh, there he is!"

Arthur looked and saw a young man standing by the water cooler. He looked human enough—two arms, two legs, one head, the requisite number of facial features, skin color a peachy-brown (1) instead of blue or green.

"Excuse me!" he called out.

The man turned, and seemed to recognize him. "Are you Arthur Dent?"

"Yes! You were with my daughter! Where is she?"

"She's not with you?"

"Obviously not! I've got the entire city's police force out looking for her! Tell me what you know or I'll—" Arthur couldn't think of a suitable threat.

"His name's Jack," Mother Gajraga offered. "At least, the name he gives most people is Jack."

"Oh, push off, you old bat!" Jack snapped at her. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Except possibly kidnap my daughter!"

"I have not! Last I saw her, she was rushing to catch the shuttle. I don't know what happened to her after that—I thought she was with you! If I'd known someone was gonna grab her, I'd have walked her to the gate!"

"What aren't you telling us?" Zaphod said.

"Nothing! I swear . . . I . . ." Under the older man's double glare, he broke down. "All right, we were . . . exploring our biology together."

"Excuse me?" said Arthur.

"You know . . . fitting the puzzle pieces together."

Arthur felt like he was trying to follow a tennis match in a fog. "You were doing a jigsaw?"

"Oh, for Zark's sake!" Zaphod grumbled. "They were doing the horizontal hokey-pokey! Becoming the Beast with Two Backs! They-were-having-sex!"

As the meaning finally sunk in, Arthur turned on Jack. "You—you filthy piece of—"

"Hey, back off, old man! I wasn't doing anything she didn't agree to! She was a nice little f—"

A fist came out of nowhere and landed on his jaw. Jack sprawled on the floor, one hand pressed to his cheek. "Ow! What did you do that for?"

Arthur was even more surprised to find the offending fist attached to him. He opened his mouth to apologize when Ford said, "What d'you think that was for? For defiling his daughter, that's what! Can you blame him?"

Arthur just nodded, as if that was what he'd meant to say all along.

"You're mad, the lot of you," Jack said, backing away slowly. "She consented! We were right in public when I asked her and she said yes! Um . . . she is of age, isn't she?"

Arthur thought about it. "Hard to tell, really," he said. "She spent most of her life in cross-time daycare, and ended up older than she should be."

Jack wasn't happy to hear that. "Look, she's physically an adult; how was I to know? I never got a look at her birth certificate or anything!"

"For the record," Arthur said, "neither did I."

Then a horrible thought occurred to him. "Trillian! What am I going to tell her about this?"

"Who's Trillian?" Jack asked.

"Random's mother," Ford explained. "She's a reporter for the Sub-Etha radio news network. I wonder where—or when—she is right now?"

"She left a contact number," Arthur said, "in case of emergencies."

"If this isn't an emergency," Zaphod said, "I don't know what is. The kid's gone, man. Mr. Wonderful here—" he laid a hand on Jack's shoulder—"has no clue what happened, and we have no other leads. I say it's time to call."

The Sub-Etha telephone booths were on the other side of the terminal. Arthur said, "Wait here, all of you, and for God's sakes, let's have no more wandering off. We don't know what could happen next."

(1) Why the people of Earth had insisted upon naming this skin color "black" was something Ford Prefect had never understood.