The door of the Crew Room opened and a vision entered - someone so compellingly and so unutterably beautiful that Bolfass fell heavily and permanently in love. His life was never to be the same from that moment forth.

He lowered the SD gun and stared in childlike adoration.

Nettie, who had just completed her course of rejuvenation in Leovinus's extraordinary beauty parlour, had not only regained her youthful complexion, her body also had returned to its former proportions. In fact, if anything, her waist was just that little bit thinner, her breasts just a tiny bit firmer, the swell of her stomach just a tad more rounded. She looked more lovely than ever for, despite the fresh bloom of youth that had returned to her cheeks, her face was also suffused with the wisdom that comes of having lived for several million years. Old Leovinus certainly knew what he was doing.

'Nettie!' murmured Dan.

'Who d'you say?' asked Bolfass absent-mindedly.

'Hi! Everybody!' said Nettie. 'Supposing we all introduce ourselves? I'm Nettie.'

'Captain Bolfass at your service!' said Bolfass, springing to attention 'And these are Corporals: Yarktak, Edembop, Ragtiliten, Desembo, Luntparger, Forzab, Kakit, Zimwiddy, Duterprat, Kazitinker-Rigipitil, Purzenhakkken, Roofcleetop, Spanglowiddin, Buke-Hammadorf, Bunzlywotter, Brudelhampon, Harzimwodl, Unctimpoter, Golholiwol, Dinseynewt, Tidoloft, Cossimiwip, Onecrocodil, Erldehammerdrat, Inchbewigglit, Sarniliftodft, Buke-Willinujit (he's a half-cousin by marriage of Buke-Hammadorf)...'

'Hi, Nettie!' said one of theYassaccan invaders.

'Barnzipewt,' continued Bolfass, 'Spighalliwiller, Memsiportim, Itkip, Harlorfreytor, Pullijit, Beakelmemsdork, Uppelsaftat, Bukhumster, Rintineagelbun, Bootintuk, Poodalasvan, Sumpcreetorkattelburt...'

'Look! I hate to interrupt,' interrupted The Journalist, 'but there's a bomb on board this ship which is about to go off in...' He switched on the mobile phone.

'Ten... nine ..' counted the bomb.

'Hot shit!' exclaimed The Journalist.

'Silence! Blerontinian Purveyor of Shoddy Goods!' shouted Bolfass, grabbing the mobile phone.

'He's not a Purveyor of Shoddy Goods!' exclaimed Lucy (who, if the truth were told, was a bit hacked off by the reaction to Nettie's entrance).

'Eight...' said the bomb.

'Give me that!' screamed The Journalist, flinging himself at the phone. Bolfass tossed it to Corporal Inchbewigglit.

'Seven...' counted the bomb.

'It's down to seven!' yelled The Journalist. 'Take this Blerontinian Bodger to the cells!' commanded Bolfass, and Corporals Spanglowiddin and Rintineagelbun grabbed The Journalist in a half-nelson and marched him out of the Crew Room.

'Six...' said the bomb, and Corporal Inchbewigglit flicked the mobile phone off.

'These two as well!' Bolfàss was pointing at Lucy and Dan.

'No!' cried Lucy and Dan. 'The bomb!' but they were hustled out.

'Captain Bolfass,' said Nettie in a cool voice. 'There is no time to explain. Please give me the phone.'

'I am afraid I cannot allow you to use it, Nettie,' said Captain Bolfass, 'for security reasons.'

'Such as?'

'You might call for reinforcements.'

'Captain Bolfass, you have my word that there is no one else on this ship, as far as I know. You also have my word that there is a bomb about to blow us all to cosmic dust, unless you give me that phone.'

Bolfass hesitated a fraction of a second, and then nodded to Corporal Inchbewigglit. Corporal Inchbewigglit hesitated even less than a fraction of a second and handed the phone to Nettie. Nettie switched it on.

'Two...' said the bomb.

'Oh, bomb!' said Nettie. 'This is Nettie. Remember me?'

'Er... One...' said the bomb. 'How many fours make eight?'

'Er...er...Zeee...'

'No... How many fours make eight?' 'Er... er... Two?' said the bomb. 'How many twos in six?' 'Three...' said the bomb.

'And how many times does three go into twelve?'

'Four...' said the bomb. It paused for a moment and then continued: 'Five... Six... Seven...'

'Phew!' said Nettie. 'That'll buy a bit of time...'

'Why have you put this bomb onto our ship?' demanded Bolfass.

'Your ship?' exclaimed Nettie.

'Why do you sound so surprised?' cried Bolfass. 'Do you think we're not skillful enough to have built such a wonderful thing?'

'Oh no!' replied Nettie. 'I didn't mean anything like that - it's just that you attacked the ship. It didn't seem like you owned it.'

'Of course we own it!' Nettie thought Captain Bolfass appeared a trifle defensive. 'Legally and morally! This ship is our rightful recompense for all the misery and hardship that we have suffered at the hands of the Blerontinians!'

'Look! I don't want to appear stupid...'

'You could never look that, Nettie,' the Captain assured her.

'Thank you...' Nettie felt herself charmed by this short, fair stranger, in whose hands her fate apparently lay. 'But I don't know the background history to all this...'

'And I will be delighted to tell you the whole story, dear lady-' Bolfass gave her deep bow - 'but first it is my unpleasant task to ask you once again: Why have you placed a bomb on this ship?'

'We haven't!' Nettie gave a little laugh that sent the Captain's heart reeling after his wobbly knees. 'We're on this ship by accident...' and she told Bolfass the whole story; how Dan and Lucy were about to turn the old rectory into a hotel, with the money from the Top Ten Travel Agency, and how the Starship had crashed into the house; how they had been invited aboard by a polite robot, and of all the things that had passed on the ship up until the invasion by the good Captain's forces.

When she had finished there was a long pause, until Nettie eventually added: 'And that's it... really.'

Bolfass seemed to suddenly recollect himself - as if he'd been in a dream while she'd been talking. He jumped to attention, and clicked his heels in a most courteous manner.

'I understand perfectly, dear lady,' he said, bowing and kissing her hand. Captain Bolfass increasingly looked as if he had just stepped out of a Jane Austen novel.

'All we want to do is to get back to Earth,' said Nettie.

'Of course!' Captain Bolfass clicked his heels again, in that way that made Nettie wriggle inside with delight. 'I am entirely at your service. Come!'

And Nettie followed the Captain, her high heels clicking on the beautifully laid floor of the work area.

Dan wasn't quite sure why he was surprised to find that there were cells on the Starship Titanic. It made sense in a way, he supposed, and yet they seemed totally out of place amidst all this luxury and elegance. The cell that he and The Journalist had been thrown into was, as cells tend to be, bare and cold. It was also damp, which is certainly what you expect cells to be but a bit surprising on such a technologically advanced vehicle.

'Lucy is such a good flick,' said The Journalist, shaking his head in admiration. 'You are a lucky man!'

'Look,' said Dan, 'I hate to disabuse you, but on Earth our attitude to these sorts of things is not the same as you Blerontinians.

You're telling me!' exclaimed The Journalist. 'When Lucy first suggested we have sex I could hardly believe my ears!'

'She did what?' exclaimed Dan.

'Well - we thought that the bomb was going to explode any second and she just kind of... Hey! Come to think of it! D'you think your other friend - what's her name?'

'She suggested... you make love?'

'The blonde one - Nightie!'

'Nettie.'

'D'you think Nettie knows about talking to the bomb?'

'I don't believe Lucy "suggested" you have sex!' replied Dan.