h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

A large bear, on its hind legs was an impressive creature to watch. The President turned around, and after the initial shock - appeared to be preparing himself to wrestle the creature.

X pulled a weapon out of his pocket, and said something he had been dying to say all his life. "Down Mr President."

He was about to fire a warning shot, when Sfret interrupted. "Wait!", he insisted. "Dierthy, sit down."

The creature, surprisingly, sat down quickly and started looking around as if nothing had happened at all.

"Dierthy?" enquired Arthur, "you know this bear?"

"Well", explained Sfret, "after I left my spiritual order I did have to make some money. And so I joined the circus."

"Is there anything you haven't done?", laughed X putting his gun away.

Sfret continued. "While I was at the circus I trained the bears, and some other animals. Dierthy here, the old girl, must have escaped and found refuge here."

"So what are we going to with her now then?" mused Arthur.

"Well she will know this area as well as anyone, I would suggest we take her with us." suggested Sfret.

"You're kidding right?", said X. "What are we going to do with a 8 foot tall bear when we're out of here?"

"She is remarkably well trained. And I'm sure the President here will be able to arrange the bear to be looked after when we can drop her some where safely.", continued Sfret. The President grunted briefly to indicate that he will do it, but he wasn't very happy about it.

"Can you control her?" Asked Arthur

"Yes...assuming she remembers her training. But since she can remember 'sit' then she should remember the rest."

"Right then what are we waiting for?", yelled the President. "Lets move on, we're losing valuable time!"

< okay when images of Arthur, X, a maddened Swiss Premier, A blindfolded agrophobic monk and a trained circus bear arriving at the bank in a delapadated lada to "save the day", plague my thoughts...it's time to go to bed. Essay is cracking on apace so I'll be back eventually meanwhile everyone keep up the great writing! >

Arthur, X, the Swiss PM, Hertzel and Flossie the Sheep followed the bear, at a distance, though Sfret was loyally holding his hand on Dierthy's shoulder for guidance.

"How did he know that that bear was the one he knew?" asked X. "Smell?"

"Oh no," shouted Sfret to the air, "her voice." He let out a loud growl. "That is the voice of the brown bear," Sfret informed. This was followed by a another growl, the same as the first. "That one was Dierthy's. She's much smarter than the average bear."

"Mm," X nodded with his face in his palm, "of course."

-----------------------

Not too far away, a car stopped at a garage to refuel.
In the back, Anna struggled to breathe due to the boot's more recent arrivals: a bad smelling hitch-hiker and a rather hefty nun who took all the remaining space.

The nun wasn't even a threat but Von Trapp had been adament that she be brought down.

The hitch-hiker was leering at her from about three centimetres away, in a manner she found disconcerting.
"You know," he rumbled, in a voice that was all borscht and brandy, "if zis vas a hromantic comedy, ve vould fall in luff, liebchen. Ahahaha"
Anna smiled sweetly at the stubbly, greasy apparition. Then she drew her head back, snapped it forward and had the satisfaction of making the rest of the journey in silence.

< Crazy headbutting! >

< I don't know why I said that... >

"Whay. Ho. And off we go, down through the trees and hills below..." sang Sfret.

The bear led dutifully to the edge of a rocky outcrop.
A before them a city stood.

"Does he have any idea of what he's singing?" asked X. In fact he was doing a lot of asking, he didn't like it.

"Probably not," said Arthur, "he's putting each line in one long word." He looked down to the village and analysed the cliff face. "Come on then," he sighed, and began making his way down.

Hertzel hopped onto his sheep which trip-trapped down the side bleating merrily. The bear sarted also.

The PM, on the other was hssing them to not go that way. Unheard he looked around, then secured a ski-lift.

< top o' the threads... >

< *drums fingers* >

<had a philosophy conference I was stewarding for today - jeez I'm knackered. Still Doobry tomorrow I'm trying to work up to a post en massive to kick start the story in high gear again. it might take me a bit of "thunking" so stay tuned....

< Come on thread, breathe! *gives its heart a jolt.* >

The hitch-hiker was leering at her from about three centimetres away, in a manner she found disconcerting.
"You know," he rumbled, in a voice that was all borscht and brandy, "if zis vas a hromantic comedy, ve vould fall in luff, liebchen. Ahahaha"
Anna smiled sweetly at the stubbly, greasy apparition. Then she drew her head back, snapped it forward and had the satisfaction of making the rest of the journey in silence.

-----------------

"Whay. Ho. And off we go, down through the trees and hills below..." sang Sfret.

The bear led dutifully to the edge of a rocky outcrop.
A before them a city stood.

"Does he have any idea of what he's singing?" asked X. In fact he was doing a lot of asking, he didn't like it.

"Probably not," said Arthur, "he's putting each line in one long word." He looked down to the village and analysed the cliff face. "Come on then," he sighed, and began making his way down.

Hertzel hopped onto his sheep which trip-trapped down the side bleating merrily. The bear sarted also.

The PM, on the other was hssing them to not go that way. Unheard he looked around, then secured a ski-lift.

"Well isn't this cosy?" said the nun.

With some considerable effort Anna twisted and rolled over.

"Who are you?" she said.

"I am Sister Mary Margaret, call me Mary."

"Well...Mary I could smell petrol when we stoped before - so we must have stopped for fuel. What where you doing at a service station?"

"Hitchiking."

Anna was surprised. "Why would a nun hitch-hike here?"

"I am on a sabbbatical."

"Oh I see."

"So why are you here?" asked Sister Mary

"I'm being kidnapped."

"Oh that's awful!"

Anna felt the car turn a corner, it felt like they were slowing down.

"Well isn't there anyone who can help you?"

"Like who" Anna squirmed again picking at her her bonds trying ineffectively to wriggle free.

"I have the Lord to watch over me" she said clutching a religious symbol chained across her neck and glancing upward.

"Uh-huh." said Anna wriggling a little harder, still in vain.

I didn't expect you to understand - you are still young - but what about some friends...you must have someone who knows your here and who can come to help you?"

Anna recalled the events of this past day how two guys in dark suits had nearly run her down in a lada then pushed her into a mudy ditch she'd been held hostage by some other guy in a white suit, this time who looked morelike the man from Delmonte. Then, locked in a cell and now kidnaped again! She had been supposed to go to vist family! On reflection this was not turnign out to be a good day.

None of these thoughts were beatryed by her stoic gaze, however.

"No....there's no-one."

The Car suddenly stopped - Anna could feel it get lighter as the occupants got out.

The boot was opened abruptly and Sreka, Vandeveer, Daltmooreby and Von Trapp were sillhouetted against the bright sky.

Von Trapp stepped forward. "How was your trip?"

Anna was about to answer with a caustic comment when Mary suddenly said.

"A bit cramped Freidich, dear. Help and old lady up won't you?" with an outstretch hand.

Vontrapp aided the nun to her feet and her bonds fell losely by her sides. Sreka cupped his big ape-like hads together to give her dainty frame something to step down to.

"Oh you are a good boy Andre." pinchign his cheek affectionately.

Sreka tried not to blush.

Anna stared agog.

"Sorry for the subterfuge dear - we had to know whether those agency friends of yours were following us."

"Agency? What agency? I - !" but he creies were cut off by the boot being closed.

"Where is the bank Freidrich?"

"Over there" Von trapp indicated to Mary who was busy unhooking her wimple and releasing a flourish of red hair.

"Andre, binoculars." she commanded.

Brining them into focus she was ably a bit wobbly to see the front entrance of the bank with it's heavy security.

"This is going to be easy."

He eyes where obscured but her grin was Huge.

With her boys behind her Big Momma Mary - 2nd Division nun of the 3rd order of the Cult of The Dying Pilchard - prepared to put her plan into effect.

---------------------------

<>

Since the disastrous foiled invasion of Manchu China in the 12th century, the Cult had realised the vital importance of food before any great undertaking. The conspirators had thus adjourned to a small restaurant down the street from the bank to go over the plan one last time, drink coffee and eat huge, disgusting Swiss cheeses.

Sreka laughed.
"No, no. Let me tell you what 'Mmmbop' was all about. This is, it is not just some happy, summery tune. Hanson are too smart for that..."
Vanderveer raised an eyebrow.
"Convince me."
The Russian leaned forward. "Okay, what 'Mmmbop is *really* about, it is about this chick. And I'm talking about a regular-"
Mary, seated at the head of the table, rapped her knuckles on the Formica surface.
"Enough of this gay banter!" she barked. "We are professionals, aren't we?"
Sreka made a face, sat back.

Now Von Trapp scraped a tiny amount of cheese from his front tooth, flicked it at the passing waiter and spoke.
"My colleague has, of course, hit the proverbial Steufel on the proverbial Kopf. You are aware that we represent an organisation known as the Cult - it is not given to you to know any more. We were tasked with bringing together a team of certain abilities, the best in the world, to fulfil a certain task."
Those assembled around the table gave small grins, preened slightly.
"Unfortunately we found ourselves restricted to Central Europe and an unforgiving deadline, so you will have to suffice."
Several egos deflated slightly.
Mary continued. "Mr Daltmooreby - as an ex-Agent, you have an insight into the workings of our enemies. Sreka - as you do not tire of telling us, you can infiltrate any secure location. You will prove this to us today, no doubt."
The Russian exposed his teeth and nodded, like a sinister jack-in-the-box.

Vanderveer cleared his throat, realised he wasn't fulfilling his supervillainous charter and banged on the table.
"And what of me?"
Von Trapp grinned nastily.
"Aha, the degenerate Dutchman speaks. I did mention my pathological hatred of...? Yes?" He leaned over the table, spoke into Vanderveer's face. "Your role will become clear to you, Cheese. And your cooperation may just see your daughter attend her riding class next week. Hmhm."
Vanderveer turned red, then white, then finally settled for his usual pale pink.

More coffee was ordered, and Mary spoke up again.
"Once again, so we all know where we stand. Mr Daltmooreby?"
The ex-Agent flicked a dyed strand of hair from his brow and attempted a seductive burr. "Yes, my dear?"
She looked at him blankly for a moment with the air of one unused to being addressed that way, then smiled hugely.
"Mr Daltmooreby. It gives me great pleasure to remind you that...you're in the s**t."

---

Ten minutes later, and Daltmooreby was up to his waist in waste. He flicked on his penlight, glanced at the laminated map strapped to his arm, and waded down a branching passageway.
The raw stink from an adjoining pipe made him gag, and he again considered the possibility of retirement. Too many glamorous nights out at casinos, beautiful women hanging off his arm...ended the next morning with him broke, hungover, in debt and missing his pants, sometimes washing dishes to pay off his colossal debts... No, there was no money left. To work.
He clambered up a short ladder, did something fiendishly complicated to the security system attached to the manhole cover, and passed on up into fresher air. He shed the wetsuit, and slithered through the vents until he came to a grate.
Beneath him, six off-duty security guards were playing poker. He hunkered over the grate, rested the gun on his left forearm, and waited.
Three minutes later, a voice in his ear spoke:
"Proceed."

---

Tossing her fiery mane like the heroine of a cheap romance paperback, Mary turned to Sreka.
"You understand your job?"
He yawned, and nodded. "It is...quite simple. Da."

---

Ten minutes later, Sreka yawned again. Now he was sitting in the security centre of the Pfennigstohler bank, in a concrete bunker several hundred feet below the city.
On the monitors in front of him, images of the bank's lobby, offices, vaults and security posts flickered in monochrome.
Discarded on the floor behind him was a garish uniform and an empty pile of pizza boxes.
Trembling in front of him was the security chief of the bank, a God-fearing, loyal family man with a shameful craving for toppings which had proved his undoing.
The Russian had been amusing himself gently tapping out popular tunes from the musicals on the man's balding skull, when he noticed three figures enter the lobby on the monitor.
Three minutes later, a voice in his ear spoke:
"Proceed."

---

Von Trapp slurped his coffee appreciatively.
"And you, Vanderveer, will be coming with Miss Mary and I. We will enter the lobby at precisely eleven thirty-eight..."

---

Ten minutes later, at precisely eleven-thirty-eight, Horst Pfennigstohler strode forward to greet his illustrious client in the marble bank lobby, completely unaware that he would be dead in three minutes. Had he known, his smile might have been a little less ingratiating, his voice a touch less servile...or perhaps not. He was a banker to the core.
"Major Drnstbetsky!" he crowed. "A pleasure to meet you at last, sir! And this must be your lady-wife - enchanté, madam."
The major, immaculately dressed in white, gave a shallow bow, and his wife, a stunning redhead, smirked. Their bodyguard fingered his collar and perspired.
"I am authorised to tell you that there will be no problem at all with your deposit, major - we are a discreet operation, it is not for us to enquire as to the origin of your millions, and we all feel strongly that media reports have *greatly* exaggerated your part in the Armenian...unpleasantness... Ahaha, won't you step this way?"
Three minutes later, in the manager's office, Mary pressed a finger to her ear and said:
"Proceed."
Horst wondered what she meant, but not for very long.

---

"...to proceed." Mary folded her arms. "Are we all clear, then, on our respective roles? Good."
She stood up, and patted her jacket.
"I'll settle the bill. You people...think you can manage the tip for the waiter?"
Sreka spat.
"I do not...tip..."
Von Trapp clucked. "Come on, a few Marks won't kill you..."
Sreka pouted.
"I do not believe in it."
Mary growled. "Well..."
"I will settle the question," announced Sreka wearily and, producing a silenced pistol, he neutralised the waiter with two shots to the back.
There was a disgusted silence around the table, and somebody muttered:
"Cheap sod..."
Then they got up and went to work.