* * *

"Right," said the Dean to the collected students, "Has anyone got an idea?"

There was dead silence. The Dean wasn't used to talking to Students, and the students were all afraid of the Dean.

"Right then. I'm going to try latching onto another universe then. The air in this one is getting kind of stuffy."

* * *

A piece of luggage rambled along the hills past Sto Lat and on towards Llamedos. It was a completely nondescript piece of luggage, except that it has hundreds of little legs and a dozen angry voices. But whereas the legs were all basically the same, the voices were quite different and actually holding a conversation.

"Oh yes, this was a brilliant idea!"

"Whoever said that is dealing with ME when we get out of this thing."

"I doubt it," said Ponder, "I don't think any of us will be able to move their arms and legs when we get out of this thing."

"Good point."

"Does that mean I can say what I want about Ridcully then?" asked an anonymous professor.

* * *

Rincewind trudged on through the Valley of the Pots. There wasn't as much to see now; the sun has set some three hours ago on the other side of the Disc, and its sluggish light was running back over the rim in Pseudoagatea.

"So exactly what is a marine?"

"After the almost-war between Al-Khali and Ankh-Morpork, some of us in Ephebie decided we needed a better army. So we started something called the Marines."

"Why're they called marines?"

"I dunno. I think one of the founders has a wife named Marin, but otherwise I guess we're supposed to be good at swamp combat. Anyway, it's becoming standard for young Ephebean men to either join the Philosophers or us when he gets old enough."

"Who thinks this stuff up?"

"I have no idea. Anyway, up ahead you will see our marine base. It's where we live, you see. We have all the comforts of home, except when we're doing patrol rounds."

"Wonderful. Tell me, do you get attacked often?"

"No. Not really."

"Wonderful."

* * *

Pot Pan stood around a small map of the Agatean rim of the Disc. It was a small map in a small room. There was a small light on the ceiling that managed to illuminate the map for the four other figures in the room. Pot Pan himself stood in shadow.

"Gentlemen, we are winning the war. We have control of continental Pseudoagatea. We also have most of Ting Ling. When the capital city Switch'off is captured, we expect the smaller island to fall into disarray. We will then move in for the kill."

"I have twenty walking suits outside the city right now," said one man.

"Very good, General Wekks.

"King Prybar of Tsort has another shipment of crossbows on the way. We cannot allow the Ephebians to win any war at all."

"Widdershins Pseudoagatea sends its sincerest thanks to King Prybar of Tsort."

"I have two thousand troops ready to finish this war with victory, Lord Pan," said a third.

"Most excellent, General Morch."

"And I have a gift," said the final man. He was standing, unlike the others, and so his face was also hidden. "The Agatean Empire admires your isolationist ideals. We present you with a thousand horses."

"Infinite thanks, Lord Hong."

* * *

Rincewind, Ptroleus and the rest of the 3.14 I Hate Non-Repeating Decimals Marines* arrived back at the base. There was a sign over the entryway reading, in Ephebean characters:

NO-NAME BASE CAMP

POPULATION: MARINES

And had been painted with an inexpert hand. Inside the camp were an infinite number of pitched green tents. They were obviously semi permanent, the giveaway being they were staked down with bars.

"Welcome to No-Name Base Camp," said Ptroleus dryly. "We hope you enjoy your stay. You can go back to Switch' off in the morning. In the mean time, feel free to sample some fine whines, watch an entirely safe moving picture show, and cast your vote for a name for this place."

"Vote?"

"Very popular in Ephebie, the vote. We need a name for this place badly."

_____

*Pthagonal finally declared he had figured out the last digit of the Number Formerly Known as Pie.

* * *