The Domain of the King bar and grill was hot and smoky as it came close to closing time.
The big bar singer finished his set. The dozen or so customers at the tables clapped and whistled as he made his way over to the bar and picked up the beer the barman had already poured for him, the same as every night.
Every night he would take a couple of beers and a sandwich or some soup before sauntering back to his great pink and chrome ship and making off into the sky. The following day he would return for another show. Nobody knew where he lived; nobody knew how he spent his time off. He came, he played, he drank his beer and ate his food. Then he left.
Tonight was going to be different. Tonight there was no pink and chrome ship to go to. He peered out the door to the empty space where it should have been.
“I can’t believe you just gave it away,” said the barman. “I know he left a hell of a tip but ships like that don’t come along every day.”
“I know, but there are times when a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” He rubbed his chin, thinking, “The guy really needed it and besides, he was a fan, a real big fan. From my home planet.”
“Well, whatever you say…”
“You got a bed I could use for the night?” drawled the big man.
“Sure, you can stay at my place,” nodded the barman. He had a small shack in the next valley. Simple but comfortable. It’d be good to have some company.
“Besides,” continued the singer, going back to the previous line of thought “something else will come along.”
He drained that last of the beer and picked up the second, which the barman had been pouring as they talked. He took a bite of the Perfectly Normal Beast sandwich.
And as he did this there appeared, right outside the door of the bar and grill, the most beautiful ship he’d ever seen. Sleek and white, like a giant running shoe.
It didn’t so much land as shimmer into being like a mirage on a desert plain. Maybe it was a mirage?
The hatch opened and a ramp extended. Down the steps came a woman and two men, one of them old and dignified, the other middle-aged and dishevelled. They looked real enough.
They walked purposefully through the door and up to the bar.
“Excuse me, have you seen this man?” said the woman, holding up a picture she had kept in her bag all though her travels.
“Well,” the singer replied, “there was a guy in her earlier who looked kinda like that.”
“Yeah, that right, older but with the same startled look,” added the Barman
“Great!” Fenchurch said, relieved they were still on the right trail. “Where did he go?”
“Just who wants to know?” said the barman suspiciously.
Fenchurch explained.
“He and his friend took my ship and headed off,” Said the singer. “Weird pair. Left me a hell of a tip just for singing ‘Love me Tender’. Going to Earth they said, in a hell of a hurry. Said he had to find his daughter.”
“Daughter? Whose daughter?” Fenchurch was baffled.
“This guy,” he replied, pointing at the photo again. “Said the universe was in great danger because of his daughter and some bird.”
Fenchurch was taken aback. It had never occurred to her that Arthur could have found another “bird” never mind had a daughter by her.
“Say, don’t I know you?” the singer had just noticed Zaphod joining them in the bar. He had delayed leaving the ship to remove the last of his bandages and fit the false teeth the ships Auto-Dentist had made him.
“I’m Zaphod Beeblebrox,” he announced proudly, “President of the Galaxy. Or, rather, I used to be or will be. Don’t know if it’s this Galaxy, mind you.”
“Oh, yeah.” The singer raised his glass to Zaphod. “I heard about you from Hotblack. You made it pretty big. Cheers!”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Fenchurch, “I know you! You’re E…”
Suddenly the air was filled with an ear-splitting siren.
Eddie’s metallic voice screamed out across the ships external PA “Incoming emergency message. Infra-red alert!”
The group crashed out of the doors of the bar and grill, sprinted back up the ramp and into the Heart of Gold’s bridge. The computer was relaying an incoming distress call as a grainy picture projected onto the visi-screen.
A familiar face could just be discerned among the noise.
“Trillian!” yelled Zaphod.
The voice was faint and crackling.
“Zaphod, I don’t know if you can hear me but if you can, please help.
I’ve been working on a corporate corruption scandal. A consortium of psychiatrists is plotting to take over the universe and is trying to stop the search for the Ultimate Question. They have the Vogons working for them and they’ve somehow tricked some people called the Grebulons into destroying the Earth again. Only this time its not just one Earth but all Earths, in all possible existences. I don’t know how this works but they are very confident.
Arthur, Ford and my daughter are on the Earth in this dimension. I’m going down to help them but I may be too late.”
There was a short pause.
“Help me, Zaphod Beeblebrox, you’re my only hope…”
The screen went blank
“Daughter?” Zaphod looked at the others quizzically. “I didn’t know she had a daughter. Who the hell is the father?”
No one answered but Fenchurch instinctively knew who it must be. A pang of jealousy ate at her mind.
Zaphod’s left head was still pondering this when his right barked out “Computer, plot us a course to Earth! Fast.”
“No, wait a minute,” he added on reflection, “we can’t afford to get caught in the blast. Program the drive to blip in, pick ‘em up and blip right back out. I’ve got a nasty lurking feeling about some nasty lurking Vogons.”
“Jeez, Mr Beeblebrox,” replied Eddie, “that’s pretty improbable – we’ve been running at pretty high levels just recently. She’d been lying idle for so long if I give her any more she might blow.”
“You wanna save the guys?”
“Well…”
“Just do it…”
The ship vanished from the front of the bar and grill. The bar singer walked out to where it had been.
“Some mirage!” he said.
He decided to take a stroll back to the barman’s shack.
¨
A short while later a little blue star buggy came in to land in its place. A little, immaculately dressed man and his equally immaculately dressed wife clambered out.
They gingerly peered round the door then made their way up to the bar.
“Ahem… Excuse me,” said the man, “could we have some bacon rolls and two beers, please?”
When the barman had brought them he asked, “What time does the bar singer start, only we hear he’s rather good?”
He lifted the small electronic book he had in his hand and pointed at the entry on the screen. “Just got this review on the update.”
The barman shook his head, “I’m sorry, Elvis has left the building.”