'Oh?' Lucy tried to pretend that everything was perfectly normal.

'Yes,' he said. 'On Blerontin we have all these absurd rituals we have to go through before having sex. There's a thing called "dating" when a young couple go out for evenings together without necessarily "going the whole way" as we say. Then there's a thing called "the engagement" where rings are exchanged. Finally there's an elaborate ceremony called "a wedding" with a cake and "bridesmaids" and the "best man's speech" - not to mention the "honeymoon"! You wouldn't believe the rigmarole we have to go through in order to make love to each other. I like your Earth way of doing it much better.'

'The bomb still might go off any second!' Lucy reminded him.

'The bomb? Oh! Pangalin! I'd forgotten!' The Journalist thought-sealed his clothes.

As they raced down the Grand Axial Canal, Second Class, they didn't realize that they had missed bumping into Dan on his way back to the Beauty Salon by exactly one eight-hundred and sixty-fourth of a second - which, by an incredible coincidence, was exactly where the bomb had got to in its countdown, when Lucy and The Journalist arrived back in the Engine Room.

'Eight hundred and sixty-four... eight hundred and sixty-three...' said the bomb.

'Why's it only got as far as eight hundred and sixty-three?' wondered Lucy.

'You're beautiful!' replied The Journalist.

Lucy became aware that he was still looking at her in a rather odd way, and she suddenly wished he'd concentrate on the problem in hand.

'Maybe it doesn't count when we're out of the room?' she suggested. She pulled her companion out of the door, but as she started to listen, Lucy suddenly felt the alien's hands around her breasts.

'Ohh! Lucy! I can't stop thinking about you!' he murmured as he nuzzled her neck.

'Eight hundred and sixty-two... eight hundred and sixty-one...' continued the bomb even though they were out of the room. That was one theory out of the way, thought Lucy, disentangling herself from The Journalist's embrace.