7
The vicious rabbits had been brought back under control. The over-excited dot police had been calmed down by their Chief, and the Yassaccan protesters lay groaning in mangled bloody heaps on the ground. It had been a totally successful exercise in crowd management. Flortin Rimanquez saluted smartly as he reported back to the Gat of Blerontis.
‘Everything under control, your Magnificent Beneficence,’ he said. ‘You may proceed with the launch.’
‘But Leovinus is still missing,’ replied the Gat, who was extremely concerned that he might miss out on the great photo-opportunity of being seen arm in arm with the Greatest Genius the Galaxy Had Ever Produced. It was exactly the sort of thing his sagging poll-ratings needed, said his publicity agent. ‘Whatever you do, get your photo next to Leovinus.’ It was, indeed, the single most important thing on the Gat’s mind throughout the whole proceedings.
‘With regret, Your Ultimate Lordship,’ said the Chief of Police with another sharp salute, ‘the crowd down there is fifty million. They are getting extremely restive. I humbly suggest that we get this launch over and done with so my boys can start dispersing them at once -otherwise we might all be sorry.’
The Gat could see what he meant. The crowd had already closed in over the bodies of the unfortunate Yassaccan demonstrators, and he could see fights breaking out all over the launch area.
‘Very well,’ he sighed. ‘No thank you!’ he added, as the minor official offered him a ‘fish-paste’ sandwich.
‘I’m afraid you have to, Your Magnificence, it’s all part of the ceremony!’ whispered the minor official hurriedly.
The Gat groaned and took the ‘fish-paste’ sandwich. The band struck up the Blerontin National Anthem and the crowd all stood on their heads - as they always did as a mark of respect to the monarchy.
‘Sirs, madams and things,’ intoned the Gat of Blerontis into the ceremonial microphone. ‘This “fish-paste” sandwich is delicious!’
A cheer went up from the crowd. The Gat sighed again, it was such a pathetic ceremony, he thought. ‘And now it is my privilege to launch this - the greatest Starship ever built! Fellow Blerontinians, this is a proud moment for all of us. I name this Starship… Titanic… May luck be with all who fly with her.’
And so saying, the Gat let swing the be-ribboned bottle of French champagne so that it smashed into the bows of the ship. At the same moment, the minor official pulled a cord and the sheeting that hitherto had covered the great Starship fell to the ground in a gentle cascade of pink silk.
- - - - - -
It may seem odd that a civilization that had never even heard of the planet Earth and certainly had no idea of its existence should use French champagne for such an occasion. The explanation is rather complicated and involves a lot of stuff about time-warps and Black Holes and an InterGalactic Smuggling Ring. If were you I simply wouldn’t worry about it and just get on with the story.
- - - - - -
There was a gasp from the multitude. Even a people used to the sight of great Starships had never before witnessed one of such vast structure, such flawless design.
‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ sighed countless male Starship spotters, scanning their bino-scopes over the hull for the registration number.
‘Your mummy built that…’ murmured countless unmarried teenage mothers to their infants.
‘It’s a triumph!’ exclaimed the Head Reporter, suddenly remembering what his script had written down for this point.
There was a ghostly roar, as if of seas beating on a distant shore that lies beyond the horizon of thought, as hugely, magnificently, the fabulous ship eased its way forward from its construction dock. It then picked up speed, swayed a bit, wobbled a bit, veered wildly and, just as the crowd were about to scream out in disbelieving terror, it vanished. Just like that. It had undergone what was about to become famous as SMEF (Spontaneous Massive Existence Failure).
In just ten seconds, the whole, stupendous enterprise was over.