'No! I'd rather tell you now.'

'Very well! We know you've sabotaged Titania's brain to prevent us returning to Yassacca! Tell us what you've done with the parts!'

The Journalist looked surprised. 'Scraliontis didn't tell me about that part of the plot!'

'What plot?' Bolfass secretly admired his Blerontinian adversary for his ability to remain cool under circumstances when a lesser man would have cracked. 'It's a pity,' he thought, 'we aren't fighting this war on the same side. On the other hand, we're not actually fighting a war at all.' Bolfass made an effort to pull himself together.

The Journalist then told everything he knew about Scraliontis's and Brobostigon's plot to scuttle the great Starship and claim the insurance. Bolfass listened in white-laced anger. Nettie could see the rage boiling up within him.

'It's not this fellow's fault!' she cried out.

Bolfass hesitated - his hand was already on his SD gun - but something in the tone of Nettie's voice stilled the fury inside him. He left his gun alone.

'Scraliontis and Brobostigon were on the ship the night before the launch,' said The Journalist. 'They wouldn't have wanted to attract attention by going in and out of it, so I imagine whatever they took out of the central intelligence system, they'll have hidden somewhere on board.'

'Sounds feasible,' said Assmal, the other Yassaccan commander, who up to this point had been doing fantastically well at the Tetris game.

'Very well!' said Bolfass. 'We will search the ship from prow to keel. Those parts must be found or we will never get Nettie back to her own planet. Indeed, we will find it hard enough to limp back to Yassacca as it is!'

'I think we can make it, Captain!' said Rodden, the navigational engineer. 'We are in the Starius Zone E-D 3278 of the Praxima-Betril Section of the Inner Galaxy.

I can get us home by dead reckoning, so long as Assmal can get manual control of the ship's power.'

Assmal nodded. 'I have control now of enough functions to be able to steer. But it will be a long trip - several hours at least.'

And so, the great Starship Titanic turned its vast bulk in the star-bright darkness of space and began its weary journey back to the planet of Yassacca.

21

The search for the missing parts of the Starship's brain proved more difficult than anyone could have anticipated. This was mainly owing to the fact that the ship's robots were becoming increasingly eccentric in their behaviour. The Doorbots were beginning to hallucinate - opening the doors for non-existent First Class Passengers' pets and being charming to waste-disposal units. The Liftbots had gone into a permanent decline, convinced that the only way to avoid the end of civilization as they knew it was to eat less protein. The Dustbots kept dashing out from the skirting and depositing on the floor bits of fluff large enough to trip everyone up.

But the biggest problem was in the main bar of the ship, where the Barbot was trapped in some strange cyberpsychotic loop, despite the fact that they could all clearly see a piece of Titania's brain amongst the coloured glasses and bottles on the shelf behind him.

'Yes yes sir! Jiff be with you... Cock this tail mix, have you just, sir...' The Barbot veered between the charmingly incomprehensible and belligerently drunk.

'Just give us that piece of cyberware on the shelf there...' tried Corporal Golholiwol. But the Barbot simply bit his nose. 'Ow!' cried Corporal Golholiwol.

Every attempt to climb over the bar and get at the object was met with a surprising show of force from the Barbot, and the peace-loving Yassaccans were forced into retreat.

By the time all but one of the missing parts were eventually located, the Starship Titanic was within sight of the planet Yassacca.

Returning home was always the Jailer's favourite thing in life. Soon he would have his feet up beside a blazing hearth. A jug of Old-Fashioned Beer would be in his hand, and his family would be running here and there preparing the evening meal or playing games on the porch in the setting sun.

He was therefore whistling a rather jolly tune as he unlocked the cell door and indicated to Dan that he was a free man.

Had Dan been more musical, he would have recognized the Jailer's tune as none other than 'Mademoiselle from Armentiers' - a French tune popular during the First World War. The reason why the Jailer came to be whistling it is not unconnected to the smuggling of French champagne to Blerontin via the time-warp previously mentioned. For, if the truth were known, the Jailer was none other than Corporal Pillwiddlipillipitit - the notorious smuggler and leader of the infamous Pillwiddlipillipitit Gang, which was one of the unpleasant manifestations of organized crime that had sprung up since the ruin of the Yassaccan economy. Pillwiddlipillipitit had disguised himself as an ordinary corporal in the Yassaccan spacefleet, in order to reconnoitre the Starship Titanic for possible plunder at a later date. But that is another story.

The moment he was free, Dan made a beeline for Lucy, who was standing on the Captain's Bridge with The Journalist and Nettie, watching the great globe of the approaching planet, through the window.

'Lucy!' he whispered. 'Can we go and talk somewhere private?'

'Not now!' Lucy whispered back. 'Look! Isn't that the most amazing sight you've ever seen?'

'It reminds me of your breasts,' murmured The Journalist. Dan fought back an urge to kill The Journalist on the spot, and, instead, grabbed Lucy by the arm and dragged her to the other end of the Bridge.

'You suggested it! He said you did!' Dan was trying to sound more indignant and accusing than plaintive but it was coming out more like a total and utter whinge.

'Dan! It wa sjust a weak moment...'

'Why have you never had any "weak moments" with me? In the thirteen years...'

'Just what the hell are you talking about, Dan? We have a great sex-life - don't we?' Lucy was getting mad at him.

'Well...yes...It's just..'

'You're just so goddamned jealous! You think I'm screwing every man who finds me attractive!'

'I never said that!' As usual, Dan could feel the conversation spiralling out of his control. As it happened, however, he was rescued from the inevitable dialectical humiliation by a remarkable and dangerous turn of events that was to alter the whole course of this story.

Bolfass had been pointing out the continents and countries of Yassacca to Nettie. He felt his heart beating fast - partly with the pride he felt in his own world but more because Nettie had taken hold of his arm and was gazing out beside him in wonder and admiration. Bolfass could have practically swooned on the spot. He could smell the scent of that beautiful creature beside him, he could feel the gentle touch of her soft hands upon his arm, and he could feel her heart beating behind her firm breast close against him. Bolfass hardly knew what he was saying.

'And there, dear lady, you can see the Ocean of Summer-Plastering. That is the Land known as Finepottery, oh! And over there, dear lady, if you were to turn your eyes you could see my own country: Carpenters Islands. It is a fine place, peopled by noble craftsmen and technicians of the highest calibre. Or at least... it was before...' Bolfass's voice seemed to crack so that Nettie glanced down at him - his rugged features were clouded by a furrow of sadness.

'Before what, Captain Bolfäss?' Nettie asked softly.

'Ah, Nettie, I don't want to burden you with the problems of our world,' replied the gallant Captain.

'I should like to know.' Nettie took the Captain's hand in hen and stroked it gently, and I think the good Captain would have fainted then and there for sheer pleasure had not a movement around the perimeter of the planet distracted him.