So to recap: Space Elvis, Hubbard can't do women's issues, Soltan Gris can't win a fight with a machine, Earth doesn't exist, yada yadda yadda, you get the drill. We're on to Part Four of this brick, children. Part Four. And we are nowhere near the halfway point.
Okay, first off Hubbard has to remind us that Soltan is writing this catalogue of stupidity from jail. Why he chooses to slow down a book that is already a fucking brick of molasses is beyond me. But he does.
Soltan returns to Spiteos to discover that it is being cleaned. And that Countess Krak has taken a bath and is now wearing clothes. And they are clean. Okay, it's a coverall, but at least she's not flopping around in her altogethers. She's even washed her hair.
Do I need to remind you that she's a virgin?
Jesus Christ, Ron. Did they skip subtly when you went to college?
Wait. This is the guy that got into a shooting war with a magnetic deposit. Of course they did.
Then she proves that she is no longer evil by refusing to work with people who are maimed. And then she almost murders Soltan because he sat in Jettero's chair. And then she makes Soltan brush up on his English. (Ugh, remember this.) And then Jettero gives the Countess clothes.
This is probably the first ligitimately good thing I've seen Space Elvis do in this book. Because the Countess has been kept in a prison being guarded by psychotic murderers without any clothing of her own whatsoever. The reason why she wears that jacket and shoes and nothing else? Because other than the coverall, that is all she owns. A jacket. A pair of shoes. And what I imagine to be the lower half of a haz-mat suit are the only things she is given to wear when her guards are Voltarian serial rapists. I think I would be kind of crazy by now, too. And I would definately be flipping out as hard as she does right now. In this context, Jett isn't just giving her pretty things to play with. He's giving her back control over her own body. In a way, he's giving her back part of her humanity.
Is this how it's presented by Ron the Magnificant? Nope. It's 100% Girl With Shinies and awww, isn't Jet nice for giving this poor girl something pretty to wear.
Soltan goes to get Jettero and hears him singing softly to himself in his cell. He realizes they are in lurve, ladies and gents. Lurve. And the description of the type of people who sing love songs is like...wow, Ron. Just wow. See, they sing about UNREQUITED LOVE. They paint their faces BLACK and "by means of tubes" weep literal tears of blood. So L. Ron Hubbard did get one prediction right. He predicted the existance of goths way back in 1985. You go, dude.
He reminds Jett about their next appointment with the Countess, then gets called away on a message that isn't really a message. And when he gets back...
They're dancing. Together. And then he kisses her. Because we couldn't see this coming from eighteen billion light years away.
You know, romance isn't fun to read about when your VP char is neither of the two characters falling in love. It kind of makes you feel like the guy stuck in the hall 'cause his roomie put a sock on the doorknob. But Ron wouldn't know anything about that, now would he?
Soltan takes Jett down for his appointment with the freak-making Dr. Crobe. (Oh Jesus, I just realized...MI-crobe. GOD DAMMIT RON! USE SOME CREATIVITY!) only to become nausious at the very thought of operating on Space Elvis. But this is only the preliminary exam, so Soltan just has to suck it up and deal with it. Which is weird, he thinks, because he never had a problem with blood before.
Dr. Crobe tells Jettero to eat lots of hamburgers and drink beer.
I think he could have figured this out on his own.
And then Jett notices that, hey, certain kinds of people from Earth look like him! Not all of them. Just...certain kinds. Could he please have a book with a certain folk tale in it? He gets it, and looks up the legand of Prince Caucalsia and his colony of Atalanta. WOW! WHAT A THING! and nobody else is excited.
If you don't see it yet, don't worry. It gets much more blatant very soon.
Then Crobe, tired of playing spot the racist with Hubbard's self insert, explains that they'll probably have to lop a few inches off the top of Jettero's bones, because hey, he's the Earth equivilant of ninteen fucking years old, and he's already too tall for his racial type.
For fuck's sake, Ron. Name him Kal-El and get it over with, K?
Anyway, the point of this whole chapter is...Soltan Gris pukes on himself.
Our narrator just threw up at the thought of blood.
This is truly a book for the ages.