The group materialised on the bridge of the Heart of Gold to find it deserted. To Slartibartfast it looked even more dishevelled than when had last been there.
“Zarquon, What a mess”, said Roosta, picking his way amongst the debris that littered the once immaculate control room.
“Yes, It appears he has been over-indulging in the good life again.” The old man shook his head. “Or, at least, what he regards as the good life.”
Fenchurch wandered across to the spiral staircase in the middle of the bridge and began ascending. It was made more difficult by that fact that vines had been grown interweaving with the treads. When she reached the top she was surprised to find nothing. The staircase just stopped. “What a bizarre spacecraft”, she shouted down to the others.
“Indeed”, replied Slartibartfast, “ its has always been a bizarrely improbable craft but I am only just beginning to realise just how improbable.”
“What d you mean?” said Roosta. He was starting to clear some of the half-eaten food and glasses of oddly coloured drinks from the tops of the control panels.
“The heart of Gold, for which the vessel is named, was supposedly discovered quite by accident,” Slartibartfast explained. “It just appeared while a scientist was conducting an experiment to create an infinite improbability device. Everyone assumed that he had created it from thin air and, such is the nature of all improbability experiments, no-one ever questioned this.”
“I am, however,” he continued, “not convinced that all these events are purely coincidences. I sense the hand of some greater force in the creation of this ship. The Heart of Gold is an artefact from prehistory, suddenly brought into our continuum for same reason which I have yet to fathom.”
The old man’s speech was suddenly interrupted by a sudden cheery metallic voice.
“Hi there! I’m Eddie, your shipboard computer.”
“What the…” all three sets of eyes swivelled towards the box at the side of the bridge.
“I must have hit the activate zone on the console.” Said Roosta, indicating from where here had just lifted an enormous bowl of diced sweetmeats.
“Hi Computer, what’s been going on around here?” Fenchurch had regained her composure after initially being startled and thought someone better find out where Zaphod had got to.
“Oh, man, what a hoopy time we’ve been having around here.” The computer’s voice was rather like an excited child. “It’s just been one party after another, lots of people popping in, having fun and eating, drinking and being merry.”
“But then, last night, we had some visitors who weren’t quite so merry. At first it was OK. The main guy was someone Mr Beeblebrox knew. He came in and left his people outside talking to the guys in the camp.
After a while it became kinda unfriendly.” Eddie’s voice had now become quieter, more solemn, “The guy kept asking Mr Beeblebrox about the bird and he said he didn’t know about any bird.
“Then the big slugs came in and started spouting all sorts of weird poetry at him. It was horrible.
“Then they started hitting him”
The Sirius Cybernetics Corporation doesn’t build computers with any circuits capable of showing sorrow or fear but this computer’s voice was clearly showing signs of both as it continued.
“After they finished with him, they went outside and started on the rest of the guys in the colony. Look…”
The computer activated the systems that allowed the external visi-screen to reflect the surrounding landscape in the bridge’s mirrored wall.
It was a scene of utter devastation. Slartibartfast could not believe it was the same planet he had visited just a few days before. All the lush vegetation had been burned, the colony’s huts flattened and, everywhere, the scorched bodies with their distinctive blue garb barely recognisable.
Fenchurch felt ill. She had never seen such a horrific scene. Slartibartfast lowered his old eyes.
Roosta spoke, his voice choked with shock “Zaphod… is he… dead?”
“Oh, no, they left him alive. Something about him having been a good client in the past and being no threat to them now. He’s in his cabin recuperating” He finished speaking and brought up a map of the ship on the screen with a path highlighted to the appropriate cabin.
Roosta shot a glance at the map and ran off towards the indicated room. Fenchurch went to catch him up and Slartibartfast followed, moving in his usual serene manner but more quickly than normal.
When they reached the cabin, Roosta, entered quietly. The door slid open with a hushed “Please Enter” rather than its usual cheery greeting. Eddie had altered the ships cybersystems to suit the current mood.
The cabin was in darkness except for the light being emitted by a health monitor screen alongside the bed.
Zaphod was lying sleeping. Both of his right arms were in Fractomend™ plaster. His left head was heavily bandaged and his right mouth was missing several teeth.
Roosta tiptoed over and checked the screen. Everything looked fine apart from what appeared to be a very high alcohol content in his blood. He looked again and found he was reading it wrong. It was extremely low compared with previous readings.
“Hello, old friend,” Roosta said quietly.
“Roosta!” Zaphod jumped up with surprise. His bruised body soon regretted such a foolish action and he flopped back down.
“Boy, am I glad to see you,” he continued when the pain had subsided a bit, “I’ve had a hell of time.”
“We heard – your computer told us.”
“We?” Zaphod looked behind him to where Slartibartfast and Fenchurch were standing. “Oh, Hello again, Old Man. I kinda wish I’d come with you when you said. Then I wouldn’t have been around when the thugs came to call. Who’s this?”
This last he said indicating Fenchurch.
“This is Fenchurch,” answered Roosta, “she’s from the Planet Earth, she’s looking for the Earthman Arthur Dent and your semi-cousin Ford Prefect.”
“You as well? I hope you don’t do your looking with thrubbing bats and Juno shockers.” Zaphod’s right head smiled a weak smile of welcome. He pulled himself up to a sitting position
“What do you mean?” Roosta enquired
“The guys who beat me up were looking for Ford. Seems he’s stolen something and they want it back.”
“But who are they and what is so important that they’d kill all those people for?”
“Halfrunt.” Zaphod spat the word through his broken teeth. “Gag Halfrunt, and he’s got a bunch of Vogons working for him.”
“Vogons!” Roosta spat the word in return. “I knew that there was trouble when we saw them at the guide offices. But Halfrunt, didn’t he used to be your private brain care specialist?
“Na, that was always just a front. He’s the head of an intergalactic consortium of shrinks. They’ve been using the Vogons, among others, to stop people finding out the truth about the ultimate question.
“I’m tied up in it somehow but I can’t remember how or why. Someone messed with my brains to stop me remembering. For a long time I though it had been me but now I’m not sure.
“One thing I do know is that it was him who ordered the destruction of your planet, lady,” he looked at Fenchurch. “I tried to warn them about six months before but when I got there I couldn’t remember why I was there. Wound up going to a party, getting smashed and picking up a girl.”
This last brought back a memory “Say, you haven’t seen Trillian, have you?”
Roosta and Fenchurch shook their heads. Slartibartfast said “I saw her on one of those dreadful tri-D things a while back but no trace since.”
“Pity, I really miss her.” His heads sank down.
“The other thing they’ve done is taken over the Guide. They’re using it to spread misinformation to confuse all the people who rely on it. All the radicals, free-thinkers and non-conformists. In short, anybody who might oppose them.
“They’ve also developed a new guide, at least, when I say developed, it apparently just appeared in their lab one day.”
Slartbartfast’s ears pricked up at this. “What?”
“This thing just appeared from nowhere.”
Zaphod’s speech came in short bursts…
“It starts out as just a plain black disc”
… from alternating mouths…
“but it can transform into a bird.”
…through broken teeth and swollen lips…
“This is the new guide.”
..with long pauses in between…
“It is present in every universe.”
“They can sell it an infinite number of times.
“It’s a marketing man’s dream.”
“Sounds scary,” said Fenchurch
“..and Ford has stolen it.”