They stood out in the heat and the dust and looked at the big pink and chrome thing with amazement and admiration. Or at least, Ford looked at it with amazement and admiration.
Arthur just looked at it. `You don’t think it’s a bit overdone, do you?’
He said it again when they climbed inside it. The seats and quite a lot of the controls were covered in fine fur skin or suede. There was a big gold monogram on the main control panel which just read `EP’.
`You know,’ said Ford as he fired up the ship’s engines, `I asked him if it was true that he had been abducted by aliens, and you know what he said?’
`Who?’ said Arthur.
`The King.’
`Which King? Oh, we’ve had this conversation, haven’t we?’
`Never mind,’ said Ford. `For what it’s worth, he said, no. He went of his own accord.’
`I’m still not sure who we’re talking about,’ said Arthur. Ford shook his head. `Look,’ he said, `there are some tapes over in the compartment to your left. Why don’t you choose some music and put it on?’
`OK,’ said Arthur, and flipped through the cartons. `Do you like Elvis Presley?’ he said.
`Yeah I do as a matter of fact,’ said Ford. `Now. I hope this machine can leap like it looks Like it can.’ He engaged the main drive.
`Yeeehaah!’ shouted Ford as they shot upwards at face-tearing speed.
It could.
23
The news networks don’t like this kind of thing. They regard it as a waste. An incontrovertible spaceship arrives out of nowhere in the middle of London and it is sensational news of the highest magnitude. Another completely different one arrives three and a half hours later and somehow it isn’t.
`ANOTHER SPACECRAFT!’ said the headlines and news stand billboards. `THIS ONE’S PINK.’ A couple of months later they could have made a lot more of it. The third spacecraft, half an hour after that, the little four berth Hrundi runabout, only made it on to the local news.
Ford and Arthur had come screaming down out of the strato- sphere and parked neatly on Portland Place. It was just after six-thirty in the evening and there were spaces free. They min- gled briefly with the crowd that gathered round to ogle, then said loudly that if no one else was going to call the police they would, and made good their escape.
`Home…’ said Arthur, a husky tone creeping into his voice as he gazed, misty-eyed around him.
`Oh don’t get all maudlin on me,’ snapped Ford. `We have to find your daughter and we have to find that bird thing.’
`How?’ said Arthur. `This is a planet of five and a half billion people, and…’
`Yes,’ said Ford. `But only one of them has just arrived from outer space in a large silver spaceship accompanied by a mechanical bird. I suggest we just find a television and some- thing to drink while we watch it. We need some serious room service.’
They checked into a large two-bedroomed suite at the Langham. Mysteriously, Ford’s Dine-O-Charge card, issued on a planet over five thousand light years away, seemed to present the hotel’s computer with no problems.
Ford hit the phones straight away while Arthur attempted to locate the television.
`OK,’ said Ford. `I want to order up some margaritas please. Couple of pitchers. Couple of Chef’s Salads. And as much foie gras as you’ve got. And also London Zoo.’
`She’s on the news!’ shouted Arthur from the next room.
`That’s what I said,’ said Ford into the phone. `London Zoo. Just charge it to the room.’
`She’s… Good God!’ shouted Arthur. `Do you know who she’s being interviewed by?’
`Are you having difficulty understanding the English lan- guage?’ continued Ford. `It’s the zoo just up the road from here. I don’t care if it’s closed this evening. I don’t want to buy a ticket, I just want to buy the zoo. I don’t care if you’re busy. This is room service, I’m in a room and I want some service. Got a piece of paper? OK. Here’s what I want you to do. All the animals that can be safely returned to the wild, return them. Set up some good teams of people to monitor their progress in the wild, see that they’re doing OK.’