Zaphod Beeblebrox, President of the Galaxy, Instellar Fugitive Extraordinaire 
 and, most recently, Commander of NERV, was having a bad day. 
"What in the name of Zarquon is this?" he demanded, spitting out a mouthful  
of liquid in the general direction of Shigeru. 
There was an inquisitive noise from under the upturned bucket that dominated  
his left shoulder. Zaphod hmphed and raised the bucket to reveal a mouth and  
chin very much like his own. Raising the glass in one hand so that the mouth  
could drink he pressed the telephone closer to his ear with his other hand 
while  gesturing with another hand that snaked out from his jacket for Shigeru 
to hold  that thought. 
"Nah, I wasn't talking to you, Prime Minister," he said smoothly. "We're  
still reorganising the mess that that putz Ikari left behind and you would not  
believe what the idiot who wound up as Director of Technical Services just  
did." 
He paused and the mouth under the bucket took the opportunity to spit out the 
 drink. The bucket fell forwards and covered it again. "No I said you 
wouldn't  believe it. It's that unbelievable, you know what I mean. So what were you  
calling about." 
"Uh-huh," he agreed a moment later. "I heard the same rumour myself. Amazing. 
 I mean, if I told you he and his deputy were crushed under a shoe-shaped  
spaceship when it made a forced landing, would you believe me?" 
There was a chime from the door. "Well there you go then. Look, I've gotta  
go. Things to do, people to killo-zap, you know." Zaphod threw the phone down 
on  his desk. "Who is it?" he shouted. 
"Lieutenant Makoto, sir. I've brought the Third Child." 
"Right, right, come in," he sighed. "Don't you go anywhere," he added to  
Shigeru. "I'm not done with you yet." 
Makoto and Shinji entered the office cautiously. Under Gendo the room had  
been dark and intimidating, with the kabbalah decorating the floor and shadows  
rather than walls. Zaphod, over the first forty-eight hours of his week-old  
tenure as Commander of NERV, had transformed it. The lights had been 
jury-rigged  from those normally fitted in a nightclub and the 'mini-bar' was larger 
than the  1959 Cadillac suspended upside down from the ceiling (the furry dice, 
in  contravention of all known logic, hung towards the ceiling). There was a 
grand  piano behind the desk and disco music was piped in from speakers flanking 
the  desk. 
"Right," said Zaphod. "Shirley, you're here because you did that bad thing  
that you did, whatever it was." 
"It's Shinji," Shigeru interjected helpfully. 
"Was I talking to you? Do I look like I care what your name is?" 
"Not his name," Makoto said patiently. After his first nervous breakdown from 
 dealing with the Commander's miniscule attention span, the new deputy 
commander  had taken him aside and explained that yes, Zaphod was deeply, deeply 
stupid but  that he was also a genius and that their eight figure salaries relied 
upon his  good will, since he was supplementing them out of his own pocket. 
Makoto wasn't  entirely sure where Beeblebrox's spectacular wealth had come 
from, but rumour  had it that he'd taken a large portion of NERV's liquid wealth 
with him to Las  Vegas and won big. "His name," he said, pointing at Shinji. 
"Is Shinji." 
"Yeah?" said Zaphod. "I'm Zaphod. So what?" Receiving no response he shrugged 
 and turned to Shinji. "So kid, that thing you did, what was it?" 
"I disobeyed Misato's orders," he whispered. 
Zaphod nodded both his heads. "You disobeyed Misato's orders," he repeated,  
then frowned. "Hey, you disobeyed Misato's orders?" he said, a look of outrage 
 spreading across his face. "What, by the nine purple suns of shinobi are you 
 people playing at?" 
The other three people in the office shuffled their feet and looked at the  
gaudy throw rugs that covered the floor. 
"What's Misato giving orders for?" Zaphod demended. "She's my freckin' bridge 
 bunny! Her and Ritsuko and that Maya chick don't give orders! What are you  
tryin' to do, specs?" he asked Makoto. "Get the kid in trouble?" 
"He let two civilians into the entry plug," Makoto protested. "Two children  
from his class at school." 
"And?" Zaphod asked. "What, are they friends on yours? Or girls, cuz' it  
looks kind of cramped in there so I've gotta admire your initiative..." 
"Just a couple of guys," Shinji muttered. 
"Oh." Zaphod deflated. 
"Suzuhara Toji and Aida Kensuke," Makoto said. 
"Suzuhara?" Zaphod said. "Ain't he the kid who, whoa, that's the guy that  
decked you! Damn, kid. You let him get into your giant robot thing? What're they 
 teaching you at that school?" Obviously incensed, he stood and paced around 
the  office, gesturing to himself with all three arms. "I can't think like 
this," he  declared. "I need a drink." He stared at the mini-bar and then his 
bucket  nodded. "Right, kid. Go over there and make me a PanGalactic 
GargleBlaster!" 
Shinji hesitated. 
"Well! Go on!" Zaphod said, sinking back into his chair to sulk and cast dark 
 looks at Shigeru. 
After a few minutes, Shinji returned with a steaming flourescent drink.  
"Righteous!" Zaphod declared and grabbed the glass, chugging it with enthusiasm.  
His eyes widened and he wordlessly shared the rest of the concoction with his  
other head. "Now that," he declared, "Is what a PanGalactic GargleBlaster is  
supposed to taste like!" 
Placing the glass reverently on the desk, he propped his feet up on the desk  
a smug grin on his face and presumably under the becket. "That got the old  
synapses burning, boys," he declared. "I have a plan that can solve all NERV's  
problems. Am I the frood or am I the frood?" 
The three other people in the office nodded cautiously, simulating agreement  
to disguse the fact that none of them had any idea what he was on about. 
"You," Zaphod said grandly, pointing to Makoto, "are to put little Miss  
Misato in her place. I don't care what you do: whips, chains, love motels, but I  
don't want to hear any more of this orders thing." 
"You," he said, pointing another finger at Shinji, "are the new Director of  
Technical Services. Anyone who can make a PanGalactic GargleBlaster of such  
awesome quality is wasted on whatever it is that you were doing before. 
"You," a third index finger indicated Shigeru, "can do whatever the kid was  
doing before now. 'Cause you obviously aren't up to anything more  important." 
Shigeru paled. "Piloting an Evangelion, Commander?" he asked. 
"Yeah, whatever," Zaphod said cheerfully. "So get out of here, the news is on 
 shortly and I need to see if I'm on it." 
Zaphod, it should be mentioned, had been the major news article of each and  
every day this week. Some TV stations were considering the possibility of just 
 renaming the Evening News as the Zaphod Show if they could arrange for a 
camera  crew to follow him around 24-7. 
Zaphod was just reaching for the remote, ignoring the panicked expressions of 
 Shigeru and Shinji (Makoto just had a silly grin on his face), when phone 
rang.  "Yeah, whaddaya want?" Zaphod snarled into the phone. He paused. "Oh, hi  
Trillian." 
"Whaddaya mean my cousin Ford Prefect's calling? Like he'd be caught dead on  
this hick planet..." 
Zaphod paled. "What Vogon fleet?" 
ntbc...



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