And Another Thing... Part 19

'I'm looking for Thor.'

'Big Red? Straight on in through the door here.'

Zaphod squinted through the gloom, but the door was proving as difficult to spot as Yggdrasil's mouth.

'I don't see any door.'

'You have to say the magic words.'

Zaphod rubbed his temples and concentrated. 'Okay. Don't tell me. I feeling something, coming out of the ether. Is it Trees are froody Trees are froody?'

'Flattery will get you everywhere,' said the tree and parted a cl.u.s.ter of creepers on the damp wall, revealing a nicotine-yellow glow behind. 'In you go, Blondie.'

Zaphod stepped inside. He did not need to bend down as the doorway behind the creepers had been built for a much larger person.

Nano Hillman Hunter gazed out of his office window at the tropical majesty of this planet he had purchased at the nebula's edge.

You did the right thing, Hillers, said his Nano's voice in his head. If you hadn't shifted these people from Earth, their atoms would be spread across the Galaxy by now. What do you think people would prefer, a little civil unrest or a whole lot of dead? If you hadn't shifted these people from Earth, their atoms would be spread across the Galaxy by now. What do you think people would prefer, a little civil unrest or a whole lot of dead?

Hillman knew that his Nano was right, but he couldn't help thinking that, somewhere along the line, he had been screwed. There had been a better deal to be had and somehow Zaphod Beeblebrox had kept it hidden from him, and it pained Hillman to think that he had been bamboozled by such an apparent moron.

The intercom box on his desk vibrated, dragging Hillman's attention away from the view. He waved his hand over the sensor and a little hologram of his secretary appeared on his desk.

'Yes, Marilyn?'

'There's a lady here to see you.'

'Does she have an appointment?'

Marilyn mewed, as though this was a difficult question. 'She says she will have.'

'That's a little cryptic, Marilyn. Could you ask for clarification?'

Before Marilyn could respond, a woman appeared in Hillman's interview chair. From his recent interviews, Hillman had become accustomed to a flickering style of materialization, but this woman arrived like somebody had flicked a switch.

'Jaysus!' he yelped.

'Actually, no. The name is Gaia, Hillman Hunter,' she said, her voice sonorous and comforting.

'Ah, yes. Gaia, the Earth Mother.' Hillman sifted through the stack of resumes on his desk. 'I wasn't planning on interviewing female G.o.ds.'

Gaia trained her deep-brown eyes on Hillman. 'No, but you would have made an exception for me, so I decided to hurry things along.'

The combination of eyes and voice was hypnotic and Hillman found himself very comfortable with this attractive lady.

'That was probably... that was a reasonable course of action.'

Gaia's face was heart-shaped with sensuous purple lips. 'You've got time to talk to me, don't you, Hillman?'

'Yes. Jaysus, yes, begorrah.'

'I am the Earth Mother, without an Earth, come to a new home. I could be happy here, Hillman. You could be happy too.'

'Yes, Earth Mother. Happy as a pig in... very happy.'

'There's no need for any more interviews.'

'No. Why would I need to interview anyone else?'

Gaia smiled and leaned forward. Hillman saw that her fingers were slim but strong. 'I can nurture this earth. I can make anything grow.'

'That's grand. Growing stuff is a good thing.'

The Earth Mother spread her arms and Hillman could smell the summers of his youth. 'The women will be broad-breasted and fertile, and the men will desire them.'

'About f.e.c.king time too.'

'All we need to do is clear up a few salary issues.' Which was exactly the wrong thing to say to Hillman Hunter; the fog in his mind cleared and he suddenly felt the need to ask a few probing questions.

'Salary issues? And what issues would they be?'

'Well, the entire package is pitifully small. How can I be expected to support a retinue...'

'A retinue, is it? I don't recall advertising for a retinue. One position only.'

'But surely a G.o.ddess of my stature...?'

Hillman was in like a shark. 'What stature is that? You were no great shakes in your last job. As far as I remember, the planet was plagued with famine and most of the crops that did grow were riddled with pesticides.'

'Things got a little out of control on Earth,' admitted Gaia. 'But that wouldn't happen again.'

'Oh really? Why don't we explore that. Let's say there's an uprising, a surge in belief for another G.o.d. How would you handle it?'

Gaia smiled kindly. 'I have dealt with problems in the past, you know. I can be tough when the situation demands it.'

'Please elaborate.'

'I remember once Ura.n.u.s hid the Cyclops in Tartarus so he couldn't see the light. This caused me considerable pain as you may not know this about me as Tartarus was my bowels in a reflexology kind of a way. So I fashioned a great flint sickle, and when Ura.n.u.s entered my chamber for his weekly how's-your-father, I had my son Chronos chop his doodle off with the sickle.' Gaia clapped delightedly at the memory. 'Oh, that was a night and a half. But I think I've answered your question. Firm but fair, that's my motto. I still have that sickle somewhere you never know when a few drops of dry divine blood will come in handy.'

Hillman crossed his legs, feeling a phantom loss that he fervently hoped never to experience.

Beside Gaia's name on her resume, he wrote four words: Over my dead body.

Asgard Zaphod stepped into as foul a den of broken dreams as he had ever been thrown out of and felt instantly at home.

This is my kind of place, he thought. Even the air in here is dangerous. Even the air in here is dangerous.

And it was. The germs huddled together and drifted through the murky air in coloured clouds, trying vainly to infect the ossified zombies and demi-G.o.ds. For once Zaphod was glad that Left Brain had jabbed him with AZ inoculations while he slept. At least, LB had sworn they were inoculations.

A cloud buzzed Zaphod's head, chanting 'Open pores, open sores.' But it was repelled by the scent of anti-virus in his perspiration.

If this had been a movie, everyone would have stopped what they were doing to glare at the handsome stranger, but most of the patrons in the Well of Urd were so inebriated that they had barely enough focus to find the tankards on their tables, never mind muster a glare for a newcomer. One drinker did yell 'Happy Birthday, Mr President', but it was likely that she was hallucinating. Zaphod clambered down three stone steps to the tavern floor, then side-stepped viscous steaming puddles until he reached the bar, which towered cliff-like above him.

A pale, reanimated Viking barman with half a dozen blond hairs pasted across his shiny pate peered down at him. 'What can I do for you, junior?'

'You can tell me where Thor is,' replied Zaphod.

The barman whistled though a hole in his cheek. 'Now why would you want to find Thor? You being so alive and all.'

'He's in a bad mood, then?'

'You could say that,' said the barman. 'All he does is drink and play chess. And the more he loses, the more he drinks.'

'Doesn't he ever win?'

The barman sn.i.g.g.e.red. 'Win? n.o.body wins in here, junior.'

Zaphod peered up at the Viking. 'Your name wouldn't be Lief, would it?'

The barman was instantly enraged. He pulled a mini axe from a shoulder holster and began chopping the counter top.

'You tell Erik to come down here if he wants to talk about eyeb.a.l.l.s. You tell him that from me. Come down here and we'll talk!'

'I'll tell him,' said Zaphod, backing away. 'If I survive this chat with Thor.'

'It's not Thor you should worry about,' said the barman, jerking a thumb towards a dark alcove at the rear of the bar. 'It's those other little b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.'

Zaphod winked with supreme confidence. 'Don't worry. I've been in s...o...b..siness for years I know how to handle b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.'

The bar was cramped by Asgardian standards, but to Zaphod it felt like he had lost weight just walking briskly to Thor's table. On the way he pa.s.sed several brawls, a couple of magical rituals (one involving a heated skewer and a circle of wolves howling in unison), a funeral pyre piled high with bodies and also sausages, and a frozen lake with dwarves skating around on it being chased by a tree-footed monster.

I could live here, thought Zaphod.

The fun and games stopped shy of Thor's alcove. There seemed to be an unwritten agreement that the Thunder G.o.d should be left in peace, which was probably due to the very clearly written message painted on a whitewashed wall in what looked like lumpy congealed blood, which read: Leave me in peace and I probably won't kill you. No promises, mind. Probably is absolutely the best I can do. Leave me in peace and I probably won't kill you. No promises, mind. Probably is absolutely the best I can do.

Zaphod crossed the peace line and, for the first time since entering the bar, he felt scores of eyes on him.

Don't fret, Zaphod, he told himself. What happened between you was ages ago. He's probably forgotten all about it by now. I can barely remember it myself. Something to do with an interplanetary incident involving an umbrella with mythical powers and the secret formula for a prize-winning ice-cream What happened between you was ages ago. He's probably forgotten all about it by now. I can barely remember it myself. Something to do with an interplanetary incident involving an umbrella with mythical powers and the secret formula for a prize-winning ice-cream. Zaphod frowned. Nope. The umbrella/ice-cream c.o.c.k-up was a completely different G.o.d. Nope. The umbrella/ice-cream c.o.c.k-up was a completely different G.o.d.

Zaphod could see his one-time friend now, sitting at a round table with his back to the crowd. And what a back it was, broader than the average glacier with knots of muscle the size of boulders and huge ridges of tension in the shoulders. His red hair hung down in a shabby ponytail and the horns of his helmet were stained yellow by long nights spent in this foul air.

Zaphod was just thinking he might open with a little joke, when the silence was filled with a sudden uproar of sharp, helium-squeaky voices.

'What? That's it?'

'That's the big move?'

'How many years have we been doing this? You haven't learned a thing.'

Zaphod stepped quietly into the alcove, sneaking a peek under the crook of Thor's elbow.

The Thunder G.o.d was being harangued by a set of golden chessmen on the opposite side of the board. His own pieces were wooden and seemed cowed into silence.

The little golden knight was very belligerent. 'Come on, Thor. We've talked about this. Never leave your king exposed. That's fundamental stuff. b.l.o.o.d.y kindergarten.'

'Watch it,' Thor rumbled and the sound sent shivers running along Zaphod's spine. That voice, like a sleepy tiger growling from the bottom of a well; no wonder the ladies couldn't get enough.

'Or what?' challenged the knight. 'We are the ancient chess set of the Aesir. You can't kill us, we're as immortal as you are, and a lot older, I might add.'

'I can melt you cheeky blighters down and make myself a little p.i.s.s pot. How would you like that?'

The knight laughed. 'You can threaten us all you want, thunder girl, it's still checkmate.'

Thor drummed the table with his fingers. 'You chaps set yourselves up again. I have a little unfinished business to take care of.' And in a fluid motion he spun round on his stool and sent the very large war hammer that had been resting across his thighs spinning towards Zaphod's head.

The hammer froze half an inch from Zaphod's nose, then backed him into a corner like a hound herding a sheep.

'Nice hammer action,' squeaked Zaphod. 'I knew you weren't going to kill me.'

Thor turned his back. 'Get out of here, Zaphod, before I let Mjollnir do what he's wanted to do since that first accursed day we met.'

Zaphod tried to move forward, but the hammer b.u.t.ted him back against the wall.

'Come on, old friend. I've come a long way to talk to you.'

Thor grunted. 'Do you even know why you're here? Do you even remember?'

'Not precisely,' said Zaphod. 'But in fairness there's a gigantic hammer hovering in front of my face, and you know how much people love my face, so I'm a little distracted.'

Thor's shoulders slumped and he sighed. 'People used to love my face. I was adored until you came along.'

'You can be adored again. That's why I'm here, I remember now.'

'Go away, Zaphod. Take your life and get out of mine. The only reason I'm not killing you is that you can't fill the hole inside with bodies. That's something that I learned in circle time.' He clicked his fingers and Mjollnir sprang into his fist. 'Now leave, Beeblebrox. I need to call my anger management sponsor.'

'You can talk to us, buddy,' said a golden rook.

Thor rubbed his shining head. 'I know that. I know I will always have you guys.'

'Should we kill the mortal?' asked a p.a.w.n. 'Rookie can crawl down his throat and choke him.'

'No. He's not worth it. But I do appreciate the offer.'

Since Zaphod did not possess any better judgement, he didn't even hesitate for the half-second it might have taken to ignore it. He climbed first on to a footrest, then a chair, then up the rungs of a wooden backrest until finally he was standing on Thor's table.

The G.o.d of Thunder sat hunched over his beer like someone was going to steal it. His eyes were downcast and his face was clumpy with emotion. There was a storm brewing. And in Thor's case this was not just a figure of speech; there was an actual miniature thundercloud boiling above his head, lightning bolts poking their heads from the vapour like lizards' tongues.

'Nice place,' said Zaphod, perching on an ashtray. 'It could do with a few big screens. Maybe a jacuzzi. Sometimes I like bubbles with my beer.'