Chapter Thirteen: The Campfire Girls Go Paintballing.

A spaceport.

"Have you ever seen these guys before?"

"I certainly have!"

"Really?!"

"Yes! Only ... they were taller. But not this one, he was quite short. And green-skinned. Also, the other one was a woman, with a big hat and a fish.... Come to think of it, I'm not so sure if I actually saw them, or just dreamed that I did."

"I see." I sighed wearily. "Thank you very much for your ... help."

I had had over a dozen conversations along depressingly similar lines since this morning, and the only thing I'd learned was that people sucked and couldn't be relied on for anything. I'm not sure why it had taken me so long to realise that.

I'd completely lost Cosmo's trail, and if it hadn't been for the prospect of eventually getting paid large amounts of money, I would have given up and gone home a long time ago. Except that I wasn't quite sure where home was any more. Not that I was lost, or anything, it was just that ... yes, all right, I was lost. And it annoyed me immensely.

At least I had my ship back. That is to say, I had a ship, and some of the screws holding it together had actually belonged to my old ship before it fell apart spectacularly. This new ship was perfect: all gleaming metal, smooth leather chairs, understated chrome decor and tastefully flashing lights. There were no unexplained rattling noises, nothing exploded when it wasn't supposed to, and it actually flew where -- and when! -- I wanted it to. It even had one of those snazzy new ship's computers that could actually talk. And talk it did, with a voice like a long hot bubble bath.[1] I called it George.

Unfortunately in order to get this ship I'd had to spend what little money I still owned, plus a great deal more that I didn't. Which was why I was reduced to standing around in gods-forsaken spaceports talking to people who couldn't have strung coherent sentences together if they came with written instructions.

"Excuse me, have you ever seen these guys before?"

The transport pilot squinted hard at the photo I was holding under his nose. "Ummm, the one in the middle looks like ... Roger."

"There's only two people in this picture. And who's Roger?"

"That's Roger." A large finger stabbed at the photo, pointing to an empty bit of sky.

"Right. Thanks."

I didn't know how much longer I could suppress the urge to stab someone in the eye, so I decided to call it a day and fled to the soothing, new-spaceship-smelling confines of my new spaceship to have my ears massaged for a while.

"Hello, Eve," said George. The back of my knees tingled pleasantly. "How was your day?"

"It sucked. I hate my job, George."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I could feel my spine curling up in the nicest possible way.

I flung myself into the pilot's seat and fiddled with the controls set into the armrest. Not because I actually needed to fiddle with them, but simply because I loved the fact that I had controls set into my armrest that I could fiddle with.

"George, would you get us out of here, please?"

"As you wish."[2]

The ship's engine came online with a wonderful electronic hum, and a moment later we lifted off gracefully. Ten seconds after that there was a huge bang behind us, followed by a flash of light and several tons of debris that suddenly surrounded us. The ship swerved, manoeuvering attractively around smouldering bits of metal until we reached a safe distance.

I stared at the control screens in front of me. "What happened?!"

George sounded a little smug when he answered. "I took the liberty of annihilating our target."

"What?"

"You don't mind, do you? I was only trying to please you. I want you to be happy, Eve." Thousands of tiny little shivers gathered at the back of my neck and threw themselves down my spine one by one like lemmings. "Are you happy, Eve?"

The shivers reached my toes, played with them until they curled up, and then climbed back up my spine and started launching themselves off again. I lay back in my seat and closed my eyes. "Ooh, George..."

--
[1] As soothing as a bubble bath, that is to say. I don't mean it literally sounded like a load of soapy water sloshing around in a tub.

[2] Ooh, just ... ooooh!