Ford Prefect, Arthur, and Zem, the mattress, arrived in the bridge to find only Veet Voojagig and Disaster Area's chief research accountant waiting for them.
"Where's Marvin and the others?" asked Ford.
"'Where are...', you mean," replied the accountant (for even the most rebellious of accountants are still pedants at heart).
"They're in the airlock," added Veet, ushering Ford, Arthur and Zem ahead of him.
The airlock door schvumped open. Ford gasped, and Zem globbered. Globbering is a noise made by a live mattress that is deeply moved by a story of personal tragedy. And there were four in the airlock. Ford and Zem were confronted by a horrible sight, and a horrible smell, and a horrible sound.
The horrible sight was the bodies of Arthur and Constant Mown, who had been placed side-by-side. Arthur's face was a hideous sight. With a large laser hole in the middle, his head looked like a badly-cooked doughnut. It was as hard to look at him as it would normally be to look at a Vogon like Constant Mown. In this case, though, the hole in Constant Mown's head had actually improved his features, if not his functioning.
The horrible smell came from Rob McKenna, or more precisely, from the liquefied brain matter pooled around his corpse. Clearly, one of Grunthos the Flatulent's poetry recitals had had much the same effect on him that it had had on Oolon Colluphid the previous night. This poetry reading, though, would be the final one. Grunthos's small intestine had throttled him to prevent any more suffering, and he was propped against the airlock's outer door, eyes bulging, face purple, and innards outward, adding to the stench.
And the horrible sound came from Marvin. A Kill-O-Zap blast to his head hadn't fried his circuitry completely, but it had all but paralysed him. He twitched, and uttered a low keening sound. "Ooooooooooooonezeeeeeeeeeeeeeeroooooooooneeooooooneeezeeeeeeeeeerooooo..."
The sound Marvin was making was loud but unusual. In contrast, there was something terribly familiar about the quiet sound of a gun being raised behind them. Ford turned, but Arthur turned at the same time, and they knocked each other off their feet. They heard the crackle of the laser blast as it hit Zem, his mattressy body falling on top of them. By the time they'd pushed him aside and struggled to their feet again, the inner door to the airlock was locked. Zeet and the accountant smiled grimly through the window, waved, and turned away.
"So this is it," Arthur said to Ford. "We're going to die."
"Yes," said Ford, "except... no! Wait a minute!" He suddenly lunged across the chamber at something behind Arthur's line of vision. "What's this switch?" he cried.
"What? Where?" cried Arthur, twisting round.
"No, I was only fooling," said Ford, "we are going to die after all."
Arthur remembered Ford saying the same thing on the Vogon spaceship that they'd hitchhiked on when the Earth had been destroyed, and how they'd been saved at the last possible moment. He remembered all the other almost-certainly-terminal situations they'd entered together, and escaped together.
As the airlock's outer door rumbled, then zooped open, sucking them out into space, Arthur thought about how anything was possible, how no situation was entirely hopeless, how Ford had been wrong all those other times he'd said they were going to die. How he might be wrong again.
It was a comforting thought.
For about thirty seconds.
*
Zeet and the accountant smiled at each other. "We did it!" they grinned. "Now we can destroy the Infinite Improbability Drive once and for all."
They'd spent their nights carefully planning the necessary calculations, and it was a matter of minutes to enter the settings. Soon the adjustments were complete. The
Heart of Gold's"Where's Marvin and the others?" asked Ford.
"'Where are...', you mean," replied the accountant (for even the most rebellious of accountants are still pedants at heart).
"They're in the airlock," added Veet, ushering Ford, Arthur and Zem ahead of him.
The airlock door schvumped open. Ford gasped, and Zem globbered. Globbering is a noise made by a live mattress that is deeply moved by a story of personal tragedy. And there were four in the airlock. Ford and Zem were confronted by a horrible sight, and a horrible smell, and a horrible sound.
The horrible sight was the bodies of Arthur and Constant Mown, who had been placed side-by-side. Arthur's face was a hideous sight. With a large laser hole in the middle, his head looked like a badly-cooked doughnut. It was as hard to look at him as it would normally be to look at a Vogon like Constant Mown. In this case, though, the hole in Constant Mown's head had actually improved his features, if not his functioning.
The horrible smell came from Rob McKenna, or more precisely, from the liquefied brain matter pooled around his corpse. Clearly, one of Grunthos the Flatulent's poetry recitals had had much the same effect on him that it had had on Oolon Colluphid the previous night. This poetry reading, though, would be the final one. Grunthos's small intestine had throttled him to prevent any more suffering, and he was propped against the airlock's outer door, eyes bulging, face purple, and innards outward, adding to the stench.
And the horrible sound came from Marvin. A Kill-O-Zap blast to his head hadn't fried his circuitry completely, but it had all but paralysed him. He twitched, and uttered a low keening sound. "Ooooooooooooonezeeeeeeeeeeeeeeroooooooooneeooooooneeezeeeeeeeeeerooooo..."
The sound Marvin was making was loud but unusual. In contrast, there was something terribly familiar about the quiet sound of a gun being raised behind them. Ford turned, but Arthur turned at the same time, and they knocked each other off their feet. They heard the crackle of the laser blast as it hit Zem, his mattressy body falling on top of them. By the time they'd pushed him aside and struggled to their feet again, the inner door to the airlock was locked. Zeet and the accountant smiled grimly through the window, waved, and turned away.
"So this is it," Arthur said to Ford. "We're going to die."
"Yes," said Ford, "except... no! Wait a minute!" He suddenly lunged across the chamber at something behind Arthur's line of vision. "What's this switch?" he cried.
"What? Where?" cried Arthur, twisting round.
"No, I was only fooling," said Ford, "we are going to die after all."
Arthur remembered Ford saying the same thing on the Vogon spaceship that they'd hitchhiked on when the Earth had been destroyed, and how they'd been saved at the last possible moment. He remembered all the other almost-certainly-terminal situations they'd entered together, and escaped together.
As the airlock's outer door rumbled, then zooped open, sucking them out into space, Arthur thought about how anything was possible, how no situation was entirely hopeless, how Ford had been wrong all those other times he'd said they were going to die. How he might be wrong again.
It was a comforting thought.
For about thirty seconds.
*
Zeet and the accountant smiled at each other. "We did it!" they grinned. "Now we can destroy the Infinite Improbability Drive once and for all."
They'd spent their nights carefully planning the necessary calculations, and it was a matter of minutes to enter the settings. Soon the adjustments were complete. The
Infinite Improbability Field would transport them instantly to safety on the resort planet of Han Wavel. Thirty minutes later, it would destroy itself completely.
*
Hotblack Desiato wandered the deserted ship, bewildered. He'd slept in late, and been woken by the sound of the Improbability Drive in action. Now there seemed to be no one on board but him. He wondered if they were still in the ZZ Plural B Delta sector. He wondered if he was allowed to talk yet. He wondered why he was wondering that when there was no one around to talk to any more. He wondered whether spending the last several minutes wondering about what he was wondering about was really the best use of his time.
He wondered why the Improbability Drive was ticking.
It seemed like it was ticking faster than it had been a few minutes ago.
He wondered about that.
Briefly.
*
On a beach on Han Wavel, an accounting groupie recognised the accountant.
"Hey, smarty!" she greeted him. "You're that Special Theory of Tax Returns guy, aren't you? Wow, I'd
love*
Hotblack Desiato wandered the deserted ship, bewildered. He'd slept in late, and been woken by the sound of the Improbability Drive in action. Now there seemed to be no one on board but him. He wondered if they were still in the ZZ Plural B Delta sector. He wondered if he was allowed to talk yet. He wondered why he was wondering that when there was no one around to talk to any more. He wondered whether spending the last several minutes wondering about what he was wondering about was really the best use of his time.
He wondered why the Improbability Drive was ticking.
It seemed like it was ticking faster than it had been a few minutes ago.
He wondered about that.
Briefly.
*
On a beach on Han Wavel, an accounting groupie recognised the accountant.
"Hey, smarty!" she greeted him. "You're that Special Theory of Tax Returns guy, aren't you? Wow, I'd
to go over your spreadsheets... say, weren't you working for Disaster Area? Is Hotblack Desiato still playing these days?"
The accountant smiled.
"Hotblack? No, he's not playing any more. But at least he went out with a bang."
*
The accountant smiled.
"Hotblack? No, he's not playing any more. But at least he went out with a bang."
*
Bub Bidderskins -
Rob McKenna, Rain God: Vanilla Townie
, was Recited to Death N3VisceraEyes -
Grunthos the Flatulent: One-Shot-Vigilante and Suicide Bomber
, was Self-Strangled N3xvart -
Constant Mown: Modified Bodyguard or Vanilla Townie
, was Kill-O-Zapped N3Umbrage -
Zem: One-Shot Permanent Watcher
, was Endgamed D4GLaDOS -
Ford Prefect: One-Shot Quick-Lyncher-And-Universal-Roleblocker
, was Endgamed D4Lunitawolf -
Veet Voojagig: Mafia Goon
, won!medic -
Disaster Area's Chief Research Accountant: Mafia One-Shot Restricted Tree-Stumper
, won!The Rufflig -
Gag Halfrunt: Mafia Rolecop
, won!
