Chapter Five
Zaphod was all alone in the Heart of Gold. He didn't like it. He had felt increasingly isolated since the abduction of Arthur's brain, but this was even worse. The only 'person' he could talk to was Eddie, the shipboard computer. However, talking to Eddie was a good deal less desirable, than having nobody to talk to at all.
Trillian had barely acknowledged him before leaving for the mission. Perhaps things would get back to normal, once their present sojourn on this mud ball in space was at an end. He resolved to play his part, to the best of his ability, to achieve a satisfactory conclusion.
Ford was okay, but not quite his usual companionable self. He'd been too occupied with the preparations for the rescue attempt to talk to his semi-cousin.
Marvin he hadn't wanted to talk to unless it was to get the metal marvel to do something, and even then, he didn't want to talk to him.
Zaphod couldn't even talk to himself now that his other half had gone walk-about in a gorilla suit. He could try it the old-fashioned monocephalic way, but felt out of practice.
There was nobody to impress, nobody to regale with stories about how great he was, nobody...
"Hi there! And how are we today? The current temperature is minus three and falling. A deep depression to the north promises to bring more rain..."
"Listen, you deranged half-wit, you had better have something important to say. If you've just piped up to give a weather report there'll be trouble. I know what the fucking weather's like. It never changes!" said Zaphod. "It's bad enough..."
"Oh, I nearly forgot, I have Trillian on hold. She says it's important."
"Zaphod, It's Trillian. Where have you been? Marsha and the berserker have left the ship. The Metaslug's been put out - for exercise, I'd imagine. You may be able to keep Mooncalf and the others occupied if you communicate with the ship now. Ford and... er, yourself are waiting for my signal. Can you do it now?"
"Okay, Trillian. I'm right on it," said Zaphod.
"I'll stay on line, Zaphod. Don't worry, I'm not checking up on you. I may hear something of use at this end. Just try and keep them on the bridge to give yourself and Ford as clear a run as possible."
"Computer!"
"Hi there, I couldn't help but hear. I suppose you want to speak with the other ship?"
"Yeah."
"It's called the Knapsacker, by the way. Would you like to do that right now?"
"Put-me-through-to-the-other-fucking-ship-you-fucking-moron-before-I-do-something-you'll-fucking-regret!" screamed Zaphod.
"You only have to ask. Really... the language. Opening channels. Go ahead, Mr Foul-Mouth. Really!" said Eddie taking umbrage.
Zaphod took a deep breath.
"This is the Heart of Gold calling... er, the Knapsacker."
No response.
"Computer, give me visual."
Eddie gave him visual but didn't say anything. Sulking, thought Zaphod, a definite improvement on demented parrot, anyway. Zaphod peered into the crowded, scruffy interior of the Knapsacker's bridge. A tangle of leads, connecting a jumble of equipment, snaked off in all directions. Gizmos of all shapes and sizes were taped down to stop them shifting when the ship moved. Some of the original panels around the walls looked lifeless, their lights long dead. She can't be a very good bounty-hunter, if this is the best she can do, he thought.
"Repeat. This is the Heart of..."
Zaphod broke off when he saw Mooncalf enter the bridge. He ran towards the comms-unit, tripped on an unsecured lead, and head-butted the camera, toppling it from its stand. Zaphod now had a view of the ceiling. His opinion of the general disorderliness of the bridge, and by inference, the rest of the ship didn't improve. Mooncalf's dopey face once more filled the screen as he struggled to right the equipment. Finally, he succeeded, and patted himself down. He didn't look too put out, as if this sort of thing was a common occurrence.
"Sorry about that. I don't think we've been introduced. My name's Mooncalf."
"Zaphod, Zaphod Beeblebrox," said Zaphod Beeblebrox.
"Wow! You mean, like the real, Zaphod Beeblebrox, ex-President of the Imperial Galactic Government?"
"Count the heads, dude."
"Oh yeah, of course, I should have realised. What's happened to your other head?"
"It's asleep," Zaphod lied.
"You're the one Sis was after, but she got somebody else instead. She'd have settled for that Arthur Something, but you're the one she really wanted. Reckons she could have got a price on him as well. One of the dombots was saying something about a zoo. She was well miffed about that," said Mooncalf frowning, "this whole things dragging on a bit, if you ask me. If I don't get home soon, I'll miss the start of the new season, and I haven't missed an opening ceremony for twenty-five years. I'm the President of..."
"Yeah, I know," interrupted Zaphod, "Trillian was telling me all about it. She was very impressed."
"Really?" said Mooncalf, his frown inverting itself into a broad grin.
"Oh yes. She even looked it up in that hippy manual to bumming around inter-stellar space, The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy," Zaphod lied.
"I don't care for that one, so much," said Mooncalf. He looked disappointed.
"Me neither," said Zaphod quickly, "to be fair neither does Trillian, but sometimes you have to take what you can get. It's the only guide on the ship at the moment. That reminds me, I must get a copy of the Encyclopaedia Galactica."
"That's the one I've got," said Mooncalf with enthusiasm, "it's got all the stats going back to Season One."
Zaphod knew little or nothing about sport. About Brockian Ultra-Cricket, he knew even less. If he was going to keep Mooncalf talking, he would have to change the subject.
"So what's the deal with the slug?" said Zaphod.
"Oh... something about a new planet. This one's dying, though you didn't need me to tell you that. Marsha promised the Metaslugs a new home, if they stayed out of our way. She's bullshitting as usual. She told 'em she was working for a race of pan-dimensional beings who know the whereabouts of the planet, Magrathea. According to the dombots, anyway," said Mooncalf plainly amused, "but if they knew that much they wouldn't have engaged Marsha in the first place. They'd have got a proper bounty-hunter, or done it themselves. Anyway, Magrathea's a myth. The Metaslugs don't know that, of course. I don't think they're much travelled. Who'd want 'em?" said Mooncalf pausing for breath.
Zaphod realised that Mooncalf was even more desperate for company than he was.
"That's right. So you don't have a high opinion of Marsha's skill as a bounty-hunter?" said Zaphod.
"Nah, this is her first job. Trouble is she's lazy. She just sits around all day on her arse reading trash novels, bountyfic mostly. She just wants one big payday. She didn't have use of a ship a couple of weeks ago. This one belongs to Little Weirdie-Beardie. If you ask me, she doesn't even have a client. I'll admit she's got hold of some proper intelligence. I mean, she found you lot after all."
"Well, it's common knowledge that I'm wanted throughout the galaxy. Still, not many get this close. She must be getting her info from somewhere," said Zaphod, with a tell-me-more look.
"She got it from a bountyfic convention a couple of weeks ago. She dragged me along with her. Reckons there were real bounty-hunters there as guest speakers. Got in with one of them, or so she says. It's difficult to know with Marsha - she can be a bit of a dreamer."
"This is a very interesting chat, Mooncalf," said Zaphod. Incredibly he wasn't lying. This guy just doesn't know how to keep quiet. But Zaphod felt there was more. Mooncalf may have trouble keeping his mouth shut, but he wasn't telling the whole truth, and nothing but. There was definitely something in his manner, which suggested that he knew more than he was letting on. It was as if he was weighing up the options. "Actually, I shall need to speak with Marsha at some point. Is she around at all?"
"She's on a cabbage run... hasn't been gone long. The slug has to be fed. It eats tons of the stuff. She'll be a little while yet... unless she finds a good crop nearby. The immediate area isn't too clever... which is one reason she put the ship down here. Didn't want to be surrounded by the slime-monsters. She's taken the berserker with her."
"Just the one?"
"There is only one."
"I see," said Zaphod, "only there seemed to be more of them during the attack on the camp."
"I can't explain that," said Mooncalf. "I was right here at the time. Unless they hooked up with others on the way out. I wouldn't have thought so. There are no other ships on the planet, and they didn't arrive with us. Perhaps they were already here. Nobody's mentioned anything to me."
"Listen, Mooncalf, I've got an idea..."