5

Some moments later Leovinus was to be found in the starboard Embarkation Lobby, yelling at the Deskbot, ‘Of course you know Scraliontis!’. The Deskbot, whilst remaining perfectly polite, was showing no inclination to be helpful.

‘Scrawny little man! Glasses! He’s the accountant of this whole project for crying out loud!’ insisted Leovimis. ‘You’ve seen him snooping about in here thousands of times!’

‘Much to my regret, sir, I have been scanning my acquaintance database and am unable to come up with anyone matching the criteria you indicate, However I am in a position to offer you a berth on the starboard Super Galactic Traveller E-Deck, The rooms are painted pink, and the noise from the disposal unit is hardly noticeable.’

‘I want to know where Scraliontis is,’ yelled Leovinus, at the same time flashing a small gold card in front of the Deskbot. Written on the card was the legend: ‘Sixty Million Miles Club.’

‘Certainly, sir!’ The Deskbot sat up brightly. ‘I would suggest you look for Mr Scraliontis in the First Class Restaurant.’

The First Class Restaurant was a black-tie only affair, so the Maitre D’Bot was understandably shocked when a disreputable elderly man suddenly bunt in and shouted: ‘Scraliontis! I know you’re in here!’

‘What an honour to have you here, sir!’ exclaimed the Maitre D. genially. ‘However, I am sure sir would be more comfortable in the Second Class Brasserie…’

‘Shut up!’ said Leovinus.

‘Of course, sir. It will be a great pleasure to not only shut up but belt up, cease to babble, and generally get lost, for you, sir, but may I point out that we would be only too happy to oblige sir with some appropriate attire, if sir would be so good as to follow me…’

Leovinus had spotted Scraliontis who was standing at the controls of the telepresence robot, trying to fit something into the Vac-U-Bus. He glanced up when he heard Leovinus’s voice, smiled thinly, and hid whatever it was inside his dinner jacket.

‘But as sir would surely not want to feel at a disadvantage vis-a-vis the other diners, may I recommend a change of vestment before partaking of cocktails?’ The Maitre D’Bot blocked Leovinus’s path as he headed toward Scraliontis. For a moment the Great Man lost sight of the accountant as the robot bobbed and weaved, bowing and nodding in front of him.

‘Just get out of the way!’ growled Leovinus.

‘It would be my pleasure, sir, but may I remind you that whilst smoking is permitted in the First Class Restaurant it is a jacket and tie affair, and I am afraid I shall have to call for assistance if sir proceeds any further.’

‘You’re too late, Leovinus!’ yelled Scraliontis. ‘This thing is going nowhere! And it’s going there tomorrow at noon - fast!’ The accountant always did enjoy talking in elliptical sentences that didn’t quite make sense; it gave him the feeling that he was in some way literary, despite his occupation.

‘Stop whatever it is you’re doing!’ shouted Leovinus. ‘We appreciate your visit, sir, and hope to see you many times in the future, but if you could just lower your voice a touch, I will show you the exit as soon as…’

‘I said: shut up!’ Leovinus suddenly turned on the robot, as it made yet another bow in front of him, picked it up and hurled it bodily at Scraliontis.

‘May I recommend sir to the fire exit? I think sir will find the plainness of the corridors more suited to his current garb…’ remarked the Maitre D’Bot as it hit the accountant full in the face, sending him sprawling. The object Scraliontis had been hiding fell onto the floor with a tinkle - it was the other cerebral artery of Titania’s brain! At the same moment, the robot bunt apart on the elegant floor of the restaurant. Scraliontis scrambled to his feet, grabbed one of the robot’s legs and charged at Leovinus. The old man side-stepped, picked up the robot’s right arm and faced the accountant.

For a few moments the two circled each other. Then Scraliontis opened with a straight thrust into an open line - the robot’s leg grazed against Leovinus’s shoulder scoring a high outside. Leovinus replied with a simple parry from the fourth position executing a deft circle with the robot’s arm that gained him the right to riposte. But Scraliontis was clearly fencing under a different rule book for he went straight to a redoublement regardless of Leovinus’s right to riposte. The Great Genius was outraged. He flung the robot’s arm at Scraliontis, in an attack that certainly did not figure in any rule book, and closed in for a corps a corps throwing any pretence to duelling etiquette to the wind.

Leovinus now had his hands around Scraliontis’s neck. ‘Brobostigon!’ screamed Scraliontis, ‘Help!’

‘Rrobostigon’s garbage!’ The normally kind and mellow face of Leovinus had taken on a evil green hue. This was mainly due to the fact that the lamp of the table on which they were now wrestling was directly under Leovinus’s chin.

‘He may be garbage,’ gasped Scraliontis, ‘but he’s got a gun!’

‘He’s dead!’ yelled Leovinus, his fingers beginning to tighten on the accountant’s neck. If he’d known Brobostigon had had a gun he would have been a bit more careful how he’d treated him.

‘Arrrrgh! You’re choking me!’ screamed Scraliontis.

‘I know! That’s what I’m trying to do!’ Leovinus tried to put some conviction into his voice, but he was finding it extremely difficult to make his fingers actually constrict the accountant’s scrawny neck. I suppose you could say that Leovinus just did not have the killer instinct.

Scraliontis, on the other hand, did. As he realized Leovinus was never going to carry through what he was attempting, Scraliontis had tightened his hand around the table lamp - a conventionalized statuette of Titania with her wings providing the illumination. As he felt the great genius’s hands falter around his neck, Scraliontis brought his knee up into Leovinus’s groin. At the same time, he raised the table lamp and brought it crashing down onto that magnificent cranium that housed Leovinus’s magnificent brain.

Leovinus’s hands fell from the accountant’s neck; he slumped to his knees. Crack! Scraliontis brought the table lamp crashing down onto Leovinus’s skull again and again… The extraordinary and superb mind registered all was not right. It blocked out the pain, then realized something truly disastrous had taken place, and wisely decided to abandon all contact with the outside world for the foreseeable future. Leovinus rolled over onto the restaurant floor unconscious, with blood pouring from his head.

Scraliontis stared down at him. God! He’d killed the Great Man!

In a panic, Scraliontis glanced around the First Class Restaurant. Disposing of dead bodies, although not something he’d done before, was the sort of thing his accountant’s mind was really good at, and a few moments later he was hurrying out of the First Class Restaurant with a spring in his step. In his panic, however, he had forgotten the little glowing silver shard that now lay on the floor, mingled amongst the remains of the Maitre D’Bot.

Leovinus was wrapped securely in one of the great curtains that helped give the First Class Restaurant its ambiance of unadulterated luxury and elegance.