Part 20 (2/2)

The Captain beamed at them. So Number Two had really found some prisoners. Well, good for him, thought the Captain, nice to see a chap doing what he's best at.

”Oh, h.e.l.lo there,” he said to them, ”Excuse me not getting up, having a quick bath. Well, jynnan tonnyx all round then. Look in the fridge Number one.”

”Certainly sir.”

It is a curious fact, and one to which no one knows quite how much importance to attach, that something like 85% of all known worlds in the Galaxy, be they primitive or highly advanced, have invented a drink called jynnan tonnyx, or gee-N'N-T'N-ix, or jinond-o-nicks, or any one of a thousand or more variations on the same phonetic theme. The drinks themselves are not the same, and vary between the Sivolvian ”chinanto/mnigs” which is ordinary water server at slightly above room temperature, and the Gagrakackan ”tzjin-anthony-ks” which kills cows at a hundred paces; and in fact the one common factor between all of them, beyond the fact that the names sound the same, is that they were all invented and named before the worlds concerned made contact with any other worlds.

What can be made of this fact? It exists in total isolation. As far as any theory of structural linguistics is concerned it is right off the graph, and yet it persists. Old structural linguists get very angry when young structural linguists go on about it. Young structural linguists get deeply excited about it and stay up late at night convinced that they are very close to something of profound importance, and end up becoming old structural linguists before their time, getting very angry with the young ones. Structural linguistics is a bitterly divided and unhappy discipline, and a large number of its pract.i.tioners spend too many nights drowning their problems in Ouisghian Zodahs.

Number Two stood before the Captain's bathtub trembling with frustration.

”Don't you want to interrogate the prisoners sir?” he squealed.

The Captain peered at him in bemus.e.m.e.nt.

”Why on Golgafrincham should I want to do that?” he asked.

”To get information out of them, sir! To find out why they came here!”

”Oh no, no, no,” said the Captain, ”I expect they just dropped in for a quick jynnan tonnyx, don't you?”

”But sir, they're my prisoners! I must interrogate them!”

The Captain looked at them doubtfully.

”Oh all right,” he said, ”if you must. Ask them what they want to drink.”

A hard cold gleam came into Number Two's eyes. He advanced slowly on Ford Prefect and Arthur Dent.

”All right, you sc.u.m,” he growled, ”you vermin...” He jabbed Ford with the Kill-O-Zap gun.

”Steady on, Number Two,” admonished the Captain gently.

”What do you want to drink!!!” Number Two screamed.

”Well the jynnan tonnyx sounds very nice to me,” said Ford, ”What about you Arthur?”

Arthur blinked.

”What? Oh, er, yes,” he said.

”With ice or without?” bellowed Number Two.

”Oh, with please,” said Ford.

”Lemon??!!”

”Yes please,” said Ford, ”and do you have any of those little biscuits? You know, the cheesy ones?”

”I'm asking the questions!!!!” howled Number Two, his body quaking with apoplectic fury.

”Er, Number Two...” said the Captain softly.

”Sir?!”

”Push off, would you, there's a good chap. I'm trying to have a relaxing bath.”

Number Two's eyes narrowed and became what are known in the Shouting and Killing People trade as cold slits, the idea presumably being to give your opponent the impression that you have lost your gla.s.ses or are having difficulty keeping awake. Why this is frightening is an, as yet, unresolved problem.

He advanced on the captain, his (Number Two's) mouth a thin hard line. Again, tricky to know why this is understood as fighting behaviour. If, whilst wandering through the jungle of Traal, you were suddenly to come upon the fabled Ravenous Bugblatter Beast, you would have reason to be grateful if its mouth was a thin hard line rather than, as it usually is, a gaping ma.s.s of slavering fangs.

”May I remind you sir,” hissed Number Two at the Captain, ”that you have now been in that bath for over three years?!” This final shot delivered, Number Two spun on his heel and stalked off to a corner to practise darting eye movements in the mirror.

The Captain squirmed in his bath. He gave Ford Prefect a lame smile.

”Well you need to relax a lot in a job like mine,” he said.

Ford slowly lowered his hands. It provoked no reaction. Arthur lowered his.

Treading very slowly and carefully, Ford moved over to the bath pedestal. He patted it.

”Nice,” he lied.

He wondered if it was safe to grin. Very slowly and carefully, he grinned. It was safe.

”Er...” he said to the Captain.

”Yes?” said the Captain.

”I wonder,” said Ford, ”could I ask you actually what your job is in fact?”

A hand tapped him on the shoulder. He span round.

It was the first officer.

”Your drinks,” he said.

”Ah, thank you,” said Ford. He and Arthur took their jynnan tonnyx. Arthur sipped his, and was surprised to discover it tasted very like a whisky and soda.

”I mean, I couldn't help noticing,” said Ford, also taking a sip, ”the bodies. In the hold.”

”Bodies?” said the Captain in surprise.

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