So Long, and Thanks for all the XWings
Part One
by Mish

"I don't think we're on Coruscant anymore, Tycho."

Tycho Celchu shook his head at this comment from Wedge Antilles, and in doing so, looked around the room.

White he thought, intelligently.

"I'm not even going to bother anymore, Zaphod." - A female voice sighed over a hidden loudspeaker.

"Hey, Arthur?" A male voice shouted, muffled slightly as it wasn't directed into the speaker, "Can you go get them?"

"Just send the robot, Ford!" A second male voice replied. "It'll get him out of the room at least. Stupid zarking piece of junk..."

"We'll send someone to come and get you as soon as we can find someone." The female voice said, and then the loudspeaker clicked and went silent.

"No, we're not." Tycho said. "And I bet if Loran were here, he couldn't even place her accent."

"Nice Tycho. Real nice." A third man, hair darker than Tycho's yet lighter than Wedge's (that'll be a nice darkish brown then) with the most gorgeous green eyes you have ever seen (not that The Author is bias...) appeared from the shadowy corner of the room, through a doorway. The door closed behind him.

"Face?!" Wedge exclaimed, "How did YOU get here?"

"Same way as you two, I expect. But man, does my head hurt."

"Why?" Wedge asked.

Strangely enough, it was at this moment that Tycho noticed that Face was wearing a pair of combat trousers and nothing else. Same way as us? I think not...

"Want a pain-killer?" Tycho asked.

Face raised an eyebrow at Tycho and shook his head. "Nah, I'll be fine - and it was English."

"What was?"

"The girl's accent. Sounded English."

"How would you know that?"

Face's grin broadened. "Oh, no reason." He said, not giving Tycho any reason to believe that he 'knew nothing'.

"Don't push him, Tycho." Wedge suggested.

"I wouldn't drea-uh-think of it." Tycho said.

"So..." Wedge started. "When did you get here?"

"Uhm." Face's eyes glazed over slightly. "A while ago."

Wedge wasn't going to ask what he had been doing since then, but his mind was forming an idea of the myriad of possibilities. He wasn't quite sure if he liked that or not, though. He wasn't going to go into it in too great a detail.

The main door 'Whooshed' open, and a large depressed-looking robot stood in the doorway.

"How can a robot look depressed?"

"Depressed?" The robot repeated. "Depressed."

"Yeah, depressed." Face repeated his phrase. "You look depressed."

"You think you've got problems. What're you supposed to do if you are a manicly depressed robot?"

"We never said you were." The blonde pilot said.

"Humans." The robot, whose name, if you haven't already guessed it is Marvin, muttered. He turned. "Follow me."

"Yeah, sure." Wedge said. He didn't look happy to be ordered around by a robot, but he really wasn't in much of a position to complain.

Tycho sighed minutely and pushed some hair away from his forehead, then followed Wedge and Marvin.

Face, however, quickly stepped to the back of the room from whenst he had travelled, and opened the door.

A female wearing baggy brown cargo-trousers and a tight green top exited the back room, brushing blonde hair from her face. "Have a nice chat with the boys?" She asked, and threw Face a dark blue shirt, which presumably was his.

Face smirked "Yeah, but I've had better."

"You'd better believe it." Mish - for it was she (who else is it going to be, really now!) - answered.

"Shall we give in to the fact that we've been here about two more hours than them?"

"The fact that they were unconsiouss for two hours, you mean?" Mish asked.

"Well..." Face said, "considering the fact that it's your fault they were knocked unconsiouss by you knocking them out when taking my x-wing for a test flight, perhaps not."

"You were in the way of the control stick!" Mish argued, "It's not my fault you'd switched the engines on already!"

Face smirked again.

After wiping the smirk from Face's lips, Mish led the way down the corridor and caught up with Marvin, Tycho and Wedge, who had reached the control room.

Face was still doing up the buttons on his shirt when he saw the content of the room. A man with two heads and three arms, a man wearing a dressingown, a nondescript brown haired female and a male who he automatically took a dislike to - a striking man with orange hair pulled back from the temples, green eyes and slightly green skin to boot, wearing black trousers, a dark green shirt and a black leather jacket. Oh, and the fact that Mish was eyeing him up had absolutely nothing to do with it.

"What's going on?" Wedge Antilles took control of the situation.

"Ford Prefect?" Mish's eyes were glazed over slightly.

The greenskinned alien smiled toothily, and bowed slightly. "Well, you can call me that, sure."

"Zaphod Beeblebrox." The man with three arms and two heads replied to Wedge. "Welcome to the Starship Heart Of Gold. Stupid ship..." he glared at the computer, "decided to pick up hitchhiker's again when it was on the Infinite Improbability Drive. Hasn't managed to pick up a full load of chicks yet though, which I would have thought improbable enough..."

The brown haired female glared at him.

"I'm Tycho Celchu." Tycho introduced himself. "This is Wedge Antilles, Garik 'Face' Loran, and, uhm." He looked at Mish, wondering where she'd come from.

"Mish Prefec- I mean, MishLora- Uh, Just Mish." Mish replied dreamily.

"Arthur Dent." The man in the dressing gown said, a perplexed expression on his face.

"Trillain." The brown-haired female said.

. . . Is that everyone accounted for? Suffice to say, everyone was introduced to everyone else!

"So... Where're we going?" Wedge finally asked.

"Excitement, adventure and really wild things!" Zaphod replied.

"Sounds good." Mish rubbed her hands together tres evilly.

Face looked at Mish's hands rubbing together and got slightly sidetracked from hating-Ford.

Ford also looked at Mish's hands. And then Mish's arms, and then Mis--Yeah, well.

"That's what I thought." Zaphod treated Mish to a winning smile.

"We've got to find some way of getting back, though." Wedge said, turning into HonourableI'veGotTwoSquadronsToTakeCareOf!Wedge.

"True." Tycho agreed.

"True." Face replied, going back to imagining ways of killing Ford.

"So..." Ford said.

&wquot;So..." Mish said at exactly the same time, looking sideways at Ford.

"Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, anyone?" Ford offered, leading the way into the lounge off-side of the Heart Of Gold's main control room.

Mish, of course, followed, as ever a new lush guy on the horizion making her temporarily forget about the other lush guy who was in the room, who she'd (uhm) known (good save) for a whole while longer.

Face, never one to give up on a girl he knew he had wrapped around his (uhm) little finger (even better save), followed Mish, wrapping a hand around her waist as he caught up.

Arthur shrugged and walked off in search of a cup of tea.

Wedge, Tycho and Zaphod argued with Eddie The Shipboard Computer about plotting a course back to the Star Wars Universe.

Marvin rusted in the corner.

Trillian watched all this happening and 'hmmph'ed, then stalked off, out of the fic, never to be heard of again.

* * * *

"Got any Old Janx Spirit?" Mish asked.

"Nope." Ford replied from behind a bottle of Old Janx Spirit. He handed over a P.G.G.B to Face, and one to Mish.

"Ah well." Mish replied. "You got a glass?"

"Nope." Ford shook his head, pouring himself some Ol' Janx Spirit into a glass.

"You spiked Face's drink?" Mish asked.

"Nope." Ford replied.

"Methinks you're lying."

"What makes you think that?"

Mish looked into Ford's Oh-So-Innocent eyes, and raised an eyebrow.

Face looked into his drink. "So, you mean, this is spiked?" He glared at Ford - again.

Mish nodded. Ford shook his head.

"Hand it over to Ford, Face." Mish said to Face, enjoying the alliteration somewhat.

Face handed the P.G.G.B over to Ford.

Ford looked at it. "What am I supposed to do with this?" He asked.

Mish shrugged. "Drink it."

"No way!" Ford objected.

"It's spiked!"

"It's not!" Ford objected again.

"So drink it!"


"You'd pass up a chance for a drink?!"

"I prefer the Janx." Ford shrugged.

Mish 'pffft'ed, "Yeah right. Drink it."

The tension in the air couldn't be cut with a very sharp knife, it was that dense.

On to Part Two

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