Did he dare just post the thing to himself?
Did he dare just put it in the system and let the Vogons work out how to get the thing to him while at the same time they were busy, as they probably would be, tearing the building apart to find out where he’d hidden it?
Yes.
Feverishly, he packed it. He wrapped it. He labelled it. With a moment’s pause to wonder if he was really doing the right thing, he committed the package to the building’s internal mail chute.
`Colin,’ he said, turning to the little, hovering ball. `I am going to abandon you to your fate.’
`I’m so happy,’ said Colin.
`Make the most of it,’ said Ford. `Because what I want you to do is to nursemaid that package out of the building. They’ll probably incinerate you when they find you, and I won’t be here to help. It will be very, very nasty for you, and that’s just too bad. Got it?’
`I gurgle with pleasure,’ said Colin.
`Go!’ said Ford.
Colin obediently dived down the mail chute in pursuit of his charge. Now Ford had only himself to worry about, but that was still quite a substantial worry. There were noises of heavy running footsteps outside the door, which he had taken the precaution of locking and shifting a large filing cabinet in front of.
He was worried that everything had gone so smoothly. Every- thing had fitted terribly well. He had hurtled through the day with reckless abandon and yet everything had worked out with uncanny neatness. Except for his shoe. He was bitter about his shoe. That was an account that was going to have to be settled.
With a deafening roar the door exploded inwards. In the turmoil of smoke and dust he could see large, slug-like creatures hurrying through.
So everything was going well was it? Everything was working out as if the most extraordinary luck was on his side? Well, he’d see about that.
In a spirit of scientific enquiry he hurled himself out of the window again.
15
The first month, getting to know each other, was a little difficult.
The second month, trying to come to terms with what they’d got to know about each other in the first month, was much easier.
The third month, when the box arrived, was very tricky indeed.
At the beginning, it was a problem even trying to explain what a month was. This had been a pleasantly simple matter for Arthur, here on Lamuella. The days were just a little over twenty-five hours long, which basically meant an extra hour in bed every single day and, of course, having regularly to reset his watch, which Arthur rather enjoyed doing.
He also felt at home with the number of suns and moons which Lamuella had – one of each – as opposed to some of the planets he’d fetched up on from time to time which had had ridiculous numbers of them.
The planet orbited its single sun every three hundred days, which was a good number because it meant the year didn’t drag by. The moon orbited Lamuella just over nine times a year, which meant that a month was a little over thirty days, which was absolutely perfect because it gave you a little more time to get things done in. It was not merely reassuringly like Earth, it was actually rather an improvement.
Random, on the other hand, thought she was trapped in a recurring nightmare. She would have crying fits and think the moon was out to get her. Every night it was there, and then, when it went, the sun came out and followed her. Over and over again.
Trillian had warned Arthur that Random might have some difficulty in adjusting to a more regular lifestyle than she had been used to up till now, but Arthur hadn’t been ready for actual howling at the moon.
He hadn’t been ready for any of this of course.
His daughter?
His daughter? He and Trillian had never even – had they? He was absolutely convinced he would have remembered. What about Zaphod?
`Not the same species, Arthur,’ Trillian had answered. `When I decided I wanted a child they ran all sorts of genetic tests on me and could find only one match anywhere. It was only later that it dawned on me. I double checked and I was right. They don’t usually like to tell you, but I insisted.’