Doing what's best with what is at hand

Artizza

"You're a dangerous fool who should have been sent west," Cuthbert finishes up. "Now be silent or I WILL . . ."

Fortunately, though his ego was bruised by Cuthbert's rather abrupt handling of him the fool can see well enough that he better keep his mouth shut from here on out.

Man's slime and a fool, but not THAT big of fool. He can see that Cuthbert (as well as the rest of us) will not suffer his foolish tongue much longer! So he grows a brain (either in his natural head or the one that got transplanted to his body because of some kind of foppish whimsy) and stays mute for the duration (even AFTER we leave the planet).

In any other setting we'd not be so rough on Zaphod, studity or not. However, if the wrong word is said these desperate folk might just turn VERY ugly. Even a blind man could see it in their faces, the desperation. . . .

A desperation that could turn to rage if we tried to take outragous advantage of them (like what Zaphod was proposing).

Being that Zaphod's proven to be . . .

Well, he's at least staying shut up, thank God! 'Tis a good thing that President's of the Galaxy (or whatever have no real political power according to Cuthbert). He'd have lead his star kingdom into disaster long before now!

Anyway, at least the Martians (Barsoonians . . . whatever) aren't desperate enoought to try to mob us and take our spaceship, but have latched upon the idea that we had the knowledge to somehow we had the means of them escaping their doomed world (they, in the course of things, tell us their plight).

Not like we could turn our backs upon them in their hour of need, especially when we DID have them means.

Now, it's up to our demifox engineer to figure out what's at hand which we all HOPE can serve as a means of escape! If our engineer here is on par with "Scotty" (whoever that is) then he can "pull a hat out of a rabbit" and save this world's people.

Surely God has placed us in this spot to do that . . . .

. . .

Hm, is that last saying right? Sounds rather . . . mean on the rabbit . . .

Edward Solomon

Sometimes good engineering is making do with what is at hand. See, despite me being a magic user I'm not able to (yet) pull an entire warp powered fleet of escape ships for our Martian friends here (much less than that joke that I pulled on Fertal about rabbits and hats).

What I hope I can manage is that the native engineers can somehow retrofit their remaining skyships (with their odd powerplants which are more like a variation of impulse engines than anything else, thank the Lord) to generate a subspace field to move them through space to their destination: Earth. I believe we can manage that.

My hope is, I explain to the gaggle of savants, that with the drawings and short and dirty lessons on engineering (ala Star Fleet) that'll be enough.

Somehow, despite the seemingly relatively primitive nature of some things about this world, combine it with some suprisingly advanced medicines (like the schemes of using a retro-virus to bio-engineer their muscles to be able to stand and move on Earth) they stand a chance.

Beyond giving them a chance, there isn't much more we can do (our little group).

. . .

Hate to say it, but what's more than we can do than what we're doing?!

Anyway, that's that.

Thankfully, the people we deal here with are honorable and compassionate people. They believe us and allow us to leave to help the centaur lass we'd come to help.

Also, they agree to share freely the information I gave them (with at least allies), so more than just their kingdom's are saved.

Unfortunately, later we shall learn that some ears (or whatever) get wind of what's going to happen to Barsoon, and escape lay on Earth . . .

We learn about that later from the Doctor's group.

So while honorable Martians head to Earth, the Dark Continent region, there are monsters heading to England . . . a place which we have to go to catch our wormhole home.

Some pouting, those of the Hitchhicker's universe part ways after returning to their reality. That doesn't last. See, Cuthbert learns that later he'll be tracked down on Terra Prime and the HQ for the Hitchhiker's Guide set up there, being that in order to keep it out of the Vogon's hands, such measures were needed. Our Quest done, we break up and set off to either take up old business, finish up vacations which had been interrupted by needs, or in the case of the Dark Elves . . . .

Well, they'd been getting antsy on what to do with themselves, so when Trilling Blackfeather comes to them telling them that he'd had a Vision given to him from his Goddess (the Moon Maiden). If the Doctor's plans of curing the condition of one of the newest Champions was suffering from, then their presence was needed (and only IF certain conditions were met).

So that is why despite the dire needs of Sigin 2 and Chiana, the Good Magician had to leave the blockades that normal Question askers of Xanth must face in order to get his services.

So, when a rather miffed set of Questioners come forth, Artizza comes forth (along with Fertal) to explain.

"There's a reason for that," Artizza announces in a high, melodious voice. "Blame it on the benefactor who has the coordinates we need."

Trilling steps forth and tells them that the substance (a rare ingrediant indeed) which is needed by them to cure "Chi" of her condition, they had to travel to that Earth we'd just left (I find out later)!

Chi was doing to be put into a spell stasis to reduce the strain on her mind (reducing the chance of her going insane all of the sudden). Her analog sister and Trilling shall stay behind in Xanth to stay at her side, leaving the remainders to handle this problem, while they chip in with whatever they can to help maintain the spell bound Chi.

Anyway, the thing that the Doctor needed was, according to Trilling's dream, a mystical substance that was meant take a ship to and back to that Eath's Moon . . . but because of the changes only God knows what it would do in the coming days.

1. What it would transmute into . . . is the mystical thing they were after . . .

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