CHAPTER 43
“It says here that Zaphod’s planet is a ‘peaceful haven for the famous with glorious mountains which blend in beautifully with the tropical beaches. It offers good skiing, great libraries and plenty of people who think that they are cool and think they can drink.’ Sounds like something from the Magrathean catalogue,” said Arthur.
“Who are the Magratheans?” asked Fenchurch.
“Oh, they were the galaxy’s equivalent of Harrods. They could build any sort of planet to your exact specification. I’m afraid to say that the Earth was built by them.”
“You mean to say that someone actually specified Milton Keynes?”
“No, it’s a very long story, but I don’t think Milton Keynes was ever intended. One day I’ll tell you about the Golgafrincham B Ark.”
“We should have time. I think this is going to be a very long journey.”
“That’s the trouble with this hitch-hiking lark, you get a lot of time on your hands.”
Fenchurch took his hand and squeezed it.
“I’m glad I’m spending it with you.”
Arthur swallowed and tried to stop his palm from being so sweaty. He had never felt so happy being so uncomfortable.
“Much as I appreciate the lift we’re getting, I think this ship is the equivalent of a 2CV on Earth.” Arthur tried to think of a 2CV in desperation, but his mind kept fighting back to Fenchurch’s warm hand in his. He looked around for some form of distraction. There weren’t many.
They were in the hold of a family cruiser belonging to some Quoquobuletes who were on their first holiday to the sunny planet of Beebles, home of Zaphod Beeblebrox. Arthur and Fenchurch had hitch-hiked, using their souvenir God’s Final Message to His Creation electronic thumb, to a large space service station, where lots of little creatures were charging around and adult creatures were stretching their arms, legs and in some cases, other extremities. Arthur bought some Babel fish and had a lot of trouble convincing Fenchurch that putting one in you ear was a really good idea. They soon found out that conversations weren’t any different at this service station than they were on any service station on Earth. Short cuts, the lousy condition of the toilets and the cost compared with a local station were the general order of the day. Arthur had eventually found someone going to Beebles and willing to give them a lift. Their travelling companions consisted of Mr and Mrs Xoloho and their three children. Their holiday was being paid for by the Quoquobulete government for being the first couple in Quoquobulete history to produce more than two children.
Mr Xoloho walked, if it could be called that (it closely resembled poor computer graphics), into the hold.
“The wife’s getting a bit tired driving, so I’m going to take over,” he explained. “We’ll take the next turning off the hyperspace tract to fit the male driving adapter equipment. If you could give my wife a hand it should be fitted in half an hour.”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” said Arthur
“Actually, I was referring to your young lady,” said Mr Xoloho.
Arthur almost got flustered, then realised that Mr Xoloho had good reason to view the female as the dominant sex. Fenchurch laughed and Arthur reconsidered being flustered, but Mr Xoloho had gone.
“They’re so nice, aren’t they?” Sighed Fenchurch. “I never expected aliens to be so polite.”
“They are not all like that, there were these creatures I once met called the Vogons and they….” The ship lurched out of hyperspace and Arthur’s stomach lurched out of place. He stood up but his body didn’t want to leave before any of it’s vital organs and slumped down again.
“I could do without that,” groaned Fenchurch.
“You should try matter transference, or rather you shouldn’t. It makes coming out of hyperspace seem like coming out of a sauna.”
“Remind me not to try matter transference.”
“I’ll do my best.”
They gingerly stood up and went to the front of the ship. The Xoloho children had already disembarked and Mrs Xoloho was disentangling herself from the controls. Arthur walked out and into the Ship Park. There were about two dozen ships of varying sizes parked. Arthur saw two people going from ship to ship.