Title: Escape Velocity
Author: The Dragoness
Notes: My sister and I
have always been vaguely amused by that "This is my semi cousin Ford who shares
three of the same mothers as me" comment… which is sort of what sparked this
really. ^^ As a bit of a warning, I've kind of meshed random things from both
the books and the drama together here… such as that that statement and Ford's
nickname. That and I always imagine Zaphod with blonde hair. So sue me. XP
Please review if you'd like me to continue!
And an extra note for Dingotheque, who asked me for a mental image of Arthur. Ironically,
Arthur's the only one I can actually think of! In my opinion, Simon Jones practically is Arthur
(he potrayed him in the BBC radio drama and TV mini-series), so poke around for any HHGG
screen shots. Or, if you get really desperate, you can look at my wacky Hitchhiker fanart at http://www.side7.com/art/regacera/gallery.html (I'll draw
ANYTHING when I'm bored. Honestly. ^^:)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter One
Ford Prefect firmly decided that we was going to die before he hit his mid-life crisis. Well, at least before he reached his 250th birthday, started going gray, and acquired the insane desire to dye his hair jet black and buy large vintage space ships with eye-watering coloring, but that was basically the same thing. Partly it was because it was the nagging desire to always stay young, have fun, and live life to the fullest even if it was on the most boring planet for a teenager to put up with in the entire system. But mostly it was because of Zaphod.
Zaphod who happened to be breaking into a highly secured military cruiser at the moment.
Not that Ford was opposed to such activities, quite the contrary; he'd often been the one to drag his friends in for a round of slightly illegal fun. It's just that he didn't really like the nasty look the guard whose back he was currently standing on had flashed him when he'd been conscious a few minutes earlier. He didn't really like the look of the guard's excessively large blaster either. But he did like his flashy black helmet though. He quickly bend down, scooped it up, and, deciding to have a little fun before he died, planted the thing firmly on his head.
"Hey, Zaphod, how do I look?" Still standing on the guard's back, he spun around to give his semi-cousin a full view.
Next to the ship's door, Zaphod's left head, sweating slightly and swearing a bit, was concentrating fiercely on the mess of the circuit panel's wires that he'd managed to create. His other head slowly glanced over its shoulder and raised its eyebrows slightly. "Like a reject from Madame Pronna's Parlor of Pompador Dancers, Ix. Take it off before it gives me brain damage."
"Are you sure that's a bad thing in your situation? And shut up."
"What? Something wrong… Ix?" Zaphod retorted, placing a slight emphasis on the last word.
"You know, if you weren't currently in charge of our survival and the probability that we'll be alive for dinner tonight, I'd box your heads together."
Zaphod's right head grinned and gave a short bark of laugher before returning to what the rest of him was working on. Meanwhile, Ford continued to wear his hat.
Despite any blood-ties or "bonds of friendship" if such a thing actually existed (which most people already doubted, and which was actually mathematically disproven years later by a group of scientists who had recently had their galactic credit cards run up by their respective partners), there was little doubt in Ford's mind that Zaphod had been the so-called clever one who had invented the nickname "Ix" for him at school. "Boy who does not know the reason why..." blah blah blah whatever and so on. So he couldn't pronounce his own name, big deal. He honestly wasn't one to care. It also saved lot of ink and paper if he didn't have to write the whole thing out. Actually, the nickname sometimes worked to his advantage, seeing as it often gave him a good reason to knock Zaphod's two heads against one another, something that was always fun to watch.
The friendship argument refuted, Zaphod and Ford certainly didn't look as though they were related in any case. Fine blonde hair and a rather good-looking facial structure noticeably clashed with the other's ginger hair and freckles. Then of course there was that two-headed thing Zaphod inherited from his father's side of the family. One semi-cousin thanked Zarquon that he only had to mess around with one consciousness, while the other pitied his relative and sent him condolence cards every New Years. Yet despite all differences as well as a certain incident involving the girl in the next cubicle over at school earlier that year, the two remained fairly close friends. The way they saw it, people needed other people if they were to survive and escape from their frighteningly boring and smoldering planet. They also needed a ship.
Which was why they were currently trying to break into the one in front of them.
"Stupid circuit won't work!" Zaphod finally shouted in frustration as he stopped working long enough to give the door a swift kick, merely gaining a bruised toe as a reward.
Ford glanced at the mess of wires and poked at it, idly wishing that he had something to carry a screwdriver in so that he could either jam the panel or try to beat some sense into at least one of Zaphod's heads. "Keep your voice down, will you? Nice job you've done of this, by the way." Folding his arms, he looked up at an iron grate on the side of the ship about ten feet above their heads. "Think we can get into the air vents?"
Meanwhile, Zaphod was busy kicking the guard since he was much less likely to break his toe on him than the hard door. "Sure, why not? Crawling around through ventilation sounds like a blast anyway. But as far as being a good idea, I can't really say. I'm supposed to be the smart one, remember?"
True enough, Ford admitted as he crawled up onto Zaphod's shoulders and pulled the grating open with a loud squeak. His semi-cousin may have been the smart one, but this was what he was more suited for: unplanned action (or as Zaphod liked to put it, unplanned stupidity… which Ford also admitted was true half the time). Unplanned perhaps, but all they had to do was get inside the ship, get everyone outside, steal it, and get as far away from Betelguese 5 as possible. How hard could it be?
Crawling through the cold rectangular tunnel before them, they suddenly paused as a steady chorus of clicks and beeps drifted up to them. Zaphod tapped the metal floor. "That's probably one of the processing rooms," he whispered.
"Right... I don't hear anyone moving around either."
"So we just go in there, deactivate the local security system, and take it from there." He slid aside the maintenance panel below them. You go first."
"What?" Ford hissed back, twisting around to look at Zaphod. "It's your idea; you go first."
"But it was your idea to get into the vents in the first place. You go."
"No. You."
"You. I'll give you my Sub-Ether radio."
"The pink one or the black one?"
"The pink one."
"Forget it."
Zaphod grunted. He'd never liked that pink radio. "Fine, look, we'll just go together, okay? Happy now? On three. One, two," He paused, considered simply shoving Ford out of the panel, wondered if that "friendship bonds" thing held any stock, and with a shrug decided against it. "Three." After a slight pause they jumped and landed with a dull thud on the floor below.
And they were quite startled to find themselves blocking the view of a spy movie that a good portion of the crew was watching. The fact that most of the aliens were busy stuffing their faces with glucose-filled snacks almost but didn't quite disguise the fact that they were all carrying those disturbingly large guns and wearing Madame Pronna-esque hats. Ford managed to startle Zaphod even further by blinking in surprise.
At the slight movement, instantly every weapon in the room was pointed directly at the two teenagers, and Zaphod Beeblebrox was forced to do what he considered the very best action for the situation. He flashed them his two winning smiles. "Um... hi."