'This whole project is a financial catastrophe! Didn't you realise that? We're on the brink of a major fiscal meltdown!' Brobostigon was trying to get to the door, but Leovinus, with surprising agility, was back on his feet and cutting off the exit.
'So what are you trying to do?' But even as he asked the question, Leovinus suddenly saw - with total clarity - the whole plot 'The insurance!' he gasped. 'You were going to scuttle my priceless ship and claim the insurance!'
'Grow up!' growled Brobostigon. 'This is the real world...' But he never got any further. The aged genius had hurled himself upon him, hitting the manager squarely on the chin with a remarkably mundane upper-cut. Brobostigon lurched backwards, caught his foot on one of Titania's wings, and fell into the Vac-U-Bus tray.
The moment he did, the Vac-U-Bus robot was activated. It leant forward extending its brass snout: 'Always a pleasure to dispose of your rubbish!' it announced, and sucked Brobostigon up. There was an unpleasant crunching sound and a slight plop! and the project manager was gone!
The Vac-U-Bus system was a rather controversial part of the ship's design. In an age when telepresence was all the rage, the idea of transmitting objects around the ship quite physically and literally, by means of vacuum tubes, seemed old-fashioned and retrogressive. But Leovinus had insisted. It was yet another little irony that he cherished. He finally carried the day by using the safety argument. Physical transport was always less risky than teleportation or any pseudo-travel arrangement. What's more, his Vac-U-Bus robots would be able to categorize and sort everything put into their tray - so if you failed to tell them where you wanted your object sending, they would do it automatically.
The system, however, was not designed for human beings, and the Vac-U-Bus was supposed to be programmed to reject any living human who might fall into the tray. Clearly this was yet another area where compromises had been made. Leovinus knew, with a queasy tingle, that Brobostigon had become the victim of his own plot and would now be a condensed cube of detritus on its way to the ship's bilge.
And now the full impact of the situation began to come home to the Great Man. Here he was - the Greatest Genius the Galaxy Had Ever Known - the day before the launch of his ultimate masterpiece, with an unfinished ship, a financial crisis (of which he had known nothing) and a dead project manager caught in the act of sabotage. This was not going to look good in the official biography.
Meanwhile - where was Scraliontis? Crossa Brobostigon had said her husband had come to the ship to meet the accountant.
Leovinus knelt beside the disfigured Titania, and lovingly slipped the silver shard into the nerve centre at the base of her skull. His hand shook as he realized the other artery was still missing; in fact - now he came to look - most of her brain was missing - how had he not noticed that before? Titania's brain! So delicate it was! The slightest shock or scratch could permanently injure it.
With a ship of this sophistication you couldn't afford to have the nerve centre non-functional. There had been recent stories about a new phenomenon: a kind of high-tech metal fatigue that could afflict certain artifacts which had too high a density of logic systems built into them: SMEF. Spontaneous Massive Existence Failure. Leovinus knew it was theoretically possible if unlikely. He also knew that practically every molecule on the Starship Titanic was in some way part of the ship's logic system. If the thing were launched in its present state - who knew what catastrophe might follow?
There was no time to lose. He must retrieve all Titania's missing parts and reassemble them before the unthinkable could happen.
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 Maître 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 Maître 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-â-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.