Part 15 (2/2)

'I can't think of another reason why you would tolerate this person. She is vile, grant me that much.'

'I will not grant you a thing!'

'Have you heard how she talks to me? How she talks to you?'

Trillian's cheeks were on fire. 'We've had our problems. They are our our problems. Now release my daughter.' problems. Now release my daughter.'

Wowbagger winced at the thought. 'How about I put her in storage for a while? I can have the computer melt some of that nicotine from the walls of her lungs.'

'Don't you dare put her in storage!' shouted Trillian, resisting a strong urge to stamp her foot. Then: 'Nicotine? Has she been smoking?'

'For a few years, according to my readings.'

'Smoking! Where did Random find time to smoke? I don't think I've ever seen her breathe in with all the complaining she does.'

'Storage? Go on.'

Trillian was tempted. 'No. No, but maybe a lung sc.r.a.pe.'

Bowerick waved his fingers over a few sensors and Random's tube was suffused with flickering laser waves.

'Random will have to sweat that tar out over the next few days. She may experience some nausea.'

'Good. That should teach her a lesson. Smoking.'

Bowerick reached his hand into an amorphous gel table and pulled out a mug of tea.

'I think we should leave her in there until we reach the nebula. n.o.body suffers, everyone's a winner.'

Wowbagger had a charming way about him, and Trillian found herself forgetting the severed digit. After all, Random was perfectly fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She was mint.

'No... I couldn't. Could I?'

Wowbagger shrugged. 'From what I've gathered, you're hardly mother of the century, so what's a few more days apart?'

And right there the charmingness ended.

'How b.l.o.o.d.y dare you! You uncouth green alien.'

'We are in open s.p.a.ce, so technically there are no aliens here.'

'You have no idea what I've been through. You are in no position to judge me!'

This was the stage of the conversation where Arthur would have sidled from the room in search of some vital but unnamed object in an unspecified and hardto-reach location. Even Ford would have taken one look at Trillian's face and known to shut his c.o.c.ktail hole, but Wowbagger, having nurtured a death wish for several millennia, instinctively pointed his green prow towards dangerous situations.

It's unlikely, his subconscious said. But perhaps this Earth woman, this undeniably attractive Earth woman, could do me some grievous bodily harm. But perhaps this Earth woman, this undeniably attractive Earth woman, could do me some grievous bodily harm.

Wishful thinking.

'Actually, I do have an idea what you've been through. The computer mined your memories. I have it all on file.'

'You perused my memories?'

'Of course. I was taking you on board my s.h.i.+p. You might have been a ma.s.s murderer. With any luck.'

'You had no right.'

'Oh, here we go with the journalist speak. What happened to ”We'll be no trouble, Mr Wowbagger”?'

'I asked you to take a few hitchhikers on board, not to dig our memories out of our heads.'

'Again, you're using the wrong verb. There were no digging implements involved.'

Trillian clenched her fists so fiercely that her phalanges creaked.

'You pedantic, smarmy a.s.s!'

'Ah yes. I had forgotten how fond you people are... were... of lower-life-form-based insults. What's next? Cheeky monkey?'

'Oh, I can do better than that.'

'Really? I'll get my notebook. I'm always on the lookout, you know.'

Trillian thrashed like a combatant being restrained by invisible arms. 'That's right, Wowbagger. Make a list of insults, so you can while away your meaningless life making people miserable.'

'As opposed to spending your life away from your child, reporting on other people's misery?'

'At least I'm not making them miserable.'

'Really? Why don't you ask the girl in the tube?'

They were well matched and Bowerick was warming to the contest. He tossed his mug into the ceiling and gave the human female his full attention.

'Go on then, Trillian Astra. Give me something new I haven't heard a million times before.'

'Zark you, Bowerick.'

'What do you think? New?'

'Do you think I'd waste my time trying to impress someone who mutilated my daughter?'

'I think so. You media personalities are always trying to impress the Universe. Think of me as a viewer.'

Trillian might have smiled; there were teeth involved. 'A viewer? I never tried to cater to viewers in your demographic.'

'And which demographic would that be?'

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