1

‘Where is Leovinus?’ demanded the Gat of Blerontis, Chief Quantity Surveyor of the entire North Eastern Gas District of the planet of Blerontin. ‘No! I do not want another bloody fish-paste sandwich!’

He did not exactly use the word ‘bloody’ because it did not exist in the Blerontin language. The word he used could be more literally translated as ‘similar in size to the left earlobe’, but the meaning was much closer to ‘bloody’. Nor did he actually use the phrase ‘fish-paste’, since fish do not exist on Blerontin in the form in which we would understand them to be fish. But when one is translating from a language used by a civilization of which we know nothing, located as far away as the centre of the Galaxy, one has to approximate.

Similarly the Gat of Blerontis was not exactly a ‘Quantity Surveyor’ and certainly the term ‘North Eastern Gas District’ gives no idea at all about the magnificence and grandeur of his position. Look, perhaps I’d better start again.

‘Where is Leovinus?’ demanded the Gat of Blerontis, the Most Important and Significant Statesman on the entire planet of Blerontin. ‘The launch cannot proceed without him.’

Several minor officials were dispatched to search for the great man. Meanwhile the vast crowd simmered with mounting impatience in front of the grand Assembly Dock, where the new Starship stood veiled in its attractive pink silk sheeting. Not one member of the crowd had glimpsed even so much as a nut or a bolt of the ship, but already its fame had swept the Galaxy from spiral arm to spiral arm.

Back on the launch podium, the great Leovinus had still not been sighted. A minor official was explaining yet again to the Gat of Blerontis why the ‘fish-paste’ sandwiches were essential.

‘Normally, Your Stupendous And Most Lofty Magnificence, you would be quite right in supposing that the mere launch of a Starship would not be marked out by such distinguished observances. But, as you are aware, this Starship is different, This Starship is the greatest, most gorgeous, most technologically advanced Starship ever built - this is the Ultimate Starship - the greatest cybernautic achievement of this or any other age, and it is utterly indestructible. The InterGalactic Council therefore thought it suitable to declare it a “fish-paste sandwich” event.’

The Gat’s heart sank. His last line of defence shrivelled before his eyes and he knew he was condemned to eat at least one ‘fish-paste’ canape´ before the launch was over. The taste, he knew, would endure for months.

And a Blerontin month was equivalent to several lifetimes if you happened to come from Earth. Which, of course, nobody there did.

In fact nobody, in that entire throng of some fifty million Blerontinians who had turned up to see the launch of the Greatest Starship in the History of the Universe, had ever even heard of the Earth. And if you’d asked them they wouldn’t have been able to understand you because translation blisters were not allowed to be worn on a ‘fish-paste’ event. It was another of those stupid little traditions that made the Gat furious.*

- - - - - -

The Blerontins insist on serving so-called ‘fish-paste’ sandwiches during Festivals and Important Book Launches, despite the fact that all Blerontins find them disgusting. It is a tradition that dates back to a time when Blerontin was an impoverished planet living on the edge of starvation. Having run out of every other kind of food, the Blerontin team were reluctantly forced to offer up ‘fish-paste’ sandwiches as their entry for the Centennial InterGalactic Canape´s Championship. For some unaccountable reason, the ‘fish-paste’ appealed to the jaded palates of the judges, clinched the championship for Blerontin, and paved the way for Blerontinian domination of the entire Galactic Centre for aeons to come.

- - - - - -

And still Leovinus did not appear.

‘Everyone here is holding their breath and keeping their fingers crossed,’ whispered the Head Reporter of the Blerontin News Gathering Bureau into his invisible microphone. ‘No one has yet even caught so much as a glimpse of the fabulous Starship, but everyone is certain that it will not only be the most technologically advanced but also the most beautiful Starship ever to have been created. It is, after all, the brain-child of Leovinus, to whose architectural genius we owe the great North - South bridge that now links our two polar caps, to whose musical inspiration we owe the Blerontin National Anthem “Our Canape´s Triumph Daily”, and to whose unsurpassable mastery of ballistics and biomass energetics we owe our third sun that now shines above us with its own famous on-off-switch… But there’s news just coming in that… what’s that?

Ladies and gentleman and things, it appears that the great Leovinus has gone missing! Nobody has seen him all day. Surely they can’t start the launch without him… but the crowd are beginning to demand some action… And uh-oh! What’s that?’

A sour note had swept through the crowd, as a band of short individuals, dressed in ragged overalls and flat caps, suddenly forced their way into the spectators’ area. They were shouting in a language no one could understand (because of the ban on translation blisters) and they were brandishing indecipherable placards.

‘It looks as if the Yassaccan delegation has managed to gain entry!’ An edge of alarm had entered the Head Reporter’s voice. This was mainly because he had his entire commentary written down in advance - as he always did. The thought that an unforeseen turn of events might now force him to look at what was actually going on and then improvise was a nightmare that had dogged his sleep for all the years that he had been in the reporting business.

‘Um!’ said the Head Reporter. He felt his head going light. ‘Er!’ He fought for breath, as he felt his bowels starting to move. ‘Oh! Ahm! What can I say?’ He was praying that the words would come to him. In his recurring nightmare - the one that he always had after eating snork chitterlings - he was in this very situation - something unforeseen had occurred - his script was whisked away by some unseen hand - and the words just never came.

It has to be explained, in defence of the Head Reporter, that unforeseen circumstances seldom occurred during public events on Blerontin, owing to the fact that the authorities exerted a pretty tight control over these things.

‘It coming yust out who!’ exclaimed the Head Reporter. At that moment an unseen hand whisked away his script, and the Head Reporter felt a warm sensation all over his lower abdomen.

‘I’ve done it! I mean! It’s definitely Yassaccans! I can see them now!’ That was practically two whole sentences! He could do it! ‘They’ve purpley pinchburps! Oh damn!’ It was one thing not to be able to think of anything - but how could he possibly come out with utter nonsense? That hadn’t been in his nightmare. It was worse!

The truth is that this personal disaster for the Head Reporter was just one in a string of disasters that had dogged the building of the Starship. There had been rumours of corners cut: the cybernet pigeon cursors had been below-spec, the great engine had been mislaid, Leovinus himself had quarrelled with the Chairman of Star-Struct Inc., there had been arguments between Leovinus and his manager, Brobostigon, there had been quarrels between Brobostigon and Leovinus’s accountant, Scraliontis, there had been arguments between Scraliontis and Leovinus and so on and so on.

The fact of the matter was that the construction of the Starship had brought financial ruin on almost everybody involved, including one entire planet. Yassacca had been, hitherto, a flourishing resort of industrious folk, with the most efficient and dependable construction industry in the Central Galaxy. Yassacca had enjoyed centuries of quiet prosperity and a high reputation. They never over-charged. They always delivered on time. They never cut corners. They were a race of proud craftsmen who had nothing to do with InterGalactic Canape´s Competitions, and thus were able to devote their wealth to the well-being of their own people.

That was until they undertook the construction of Leovinus’s masterpiece - the crowning achievement of his career - the Starship that even now stands hidden from sight in its launching bay, awaiting the unveiling ceremony.

‘Give us back our happy life-style!’ shout the Yassaccan demonstrators unintelligibly to the Blerontinian onlookers.

‘Planets not Starships!’ roar their placards - to the baffled crowd.

‘Get those bastards out of there,’ growls Flortin Rimanquez, the Chief of Police and Rabbits.

‘Where is Leovinus?’ groans the Gat of Blerontis.