Chapter Seven
The lounge door slid open to reveal a room just a little tidier than the rest of the ship. To the sides they could see low cushioned couches, and behind them storage boxes full of cables and other equipment strapped to the walls. Other containers had been pushed under the seats. The Nutri-Matic and fridge faced them on the opposite wall.
"Fancy a cup of tea?" Ford asked Zaphod.
"Fancy a poke in the eye with a sharp stick?"
Then something caught Ford's eye, but it wasn't a sharp stick. Instead, he saw on one of the occasional tables, a large glass jar within a metal housing. A small green light on its top winked at them. The jar contained what appeared to be a very large pickled walnut, suspended in a clear liquid.
"You don't suppose...?" said Ford, "No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be that simple."
"Hey, now that's a result. Let's take it and skedaddle," said Zaphod. "Odd though, it just sitting there. But I for one am not prepared to look a gift brain in the cerebral cortex. I say we grab it and leg it out of here."
Ford wasn't so sure. It could be a trophy belonging to the berserker - a souvenir from a fondly remembered encounter on the battlefield. But why keep it alive? The glass container was clearly more than jar. Then Ford saw the label tied to the metal housing. It read, 'Dent, Arthur?' There was a line through Arthur's name, and written beneath, 'Prefect, Ford'. If this wasn't Arthur's brain, it was certainly a brain, and of value to somebody, otherwise a plain jar filled with formaldehyde would have been sufficient.
"I can hear someone coming," said Zaphod.
Ford stood stock still with the jar in his hands, listening. Then he heard it, a slithering, sucking, sticky, wet sound. Presently, the Metaslug, came into view, and seeing the two guilty-looking specimens before it reared up on its tail filling the frame of the door. There was no other way out.
"Oh, hi there," said Ford, "we're here to see Marsha. I'm Arthur Dent, and this is my friend, Ford Prefect," he added indicating Zaphod. Ford congratulated himself on getting everybody's name wrong.
The Metaslug said nothing.
"Perhaps I could get you something from the Nutri-Matic?" said Ford. "Though, you don't want to spoil your appetite, of course. Marsha will be back soon with the cabbages. Yum-yum."
The Metaslug said nothing.
"Well, we can't stand around all day gossiping - things to do, and all that. Do let Marsha know how sorry we were to miss her."
The Metaslug said nothing.
"If your ready, Ford?" said Ford.
Zaphod stared at Ford for a moment before twigging. "Oh, er... yeah, that's right, must dash. Nice meeting you. If we could just get by, we'll be out of your way."
Ford and Zaphod moved towards the door, which was still blocked by the massive glutinous bulk of the Metaslug. The gastropod inflated a little to show what it thought of the idea. Its outer flange started to oscillate and white secretions oozed from glands where its armpits would have been had it had arms. It was not long before they got the point of this exhibition. The smell started off bad, quickly moved up to pungent, and went from there to a nauseating, stomach-churning rankness, before finally settling on the sort of stench one would happily avoid by simply not bothering to breathe again... ever. Ford and Zaphod collapsed choking onto the couches, whilst their brains wrestled with the options - breathe and die, or don't breathe and die.
"Would you like some lettuce?" said Marvin's voice from the corridor.
Slowly, the Metaslug's head turned one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. Its body stayed where it was. The foul odour did not abate, however. Marvin thrust the lettuce at the Metaslug's mouth, and Metaslugs being Metaslugs it greedily bit into the dark green leaves.
"Salt?"
The Metaslug said nothing.
"I've got plenty. Here try some."
The Metaslug backed away into the room. Ford went to take a breath and changed his mind. The Metaslug backed off further coming to a stop with its back to the Nutri-Matic. Marvin closed in. On his shoulder he carried a transparent plastic barrel containing a large amount of white crystallised granules. Ford and Zaphod saw their chance and bolted for the door.