"Why not take it somewhere else?"

"You kind of know where you stand with these guys. They're hoopy."

"But they'll rip you off!"

"Not this time. I pulled a couple of wires. If they miss them, it's curtains. I told them who I am and what would happen if they didn't do a proper job."

"Blackmail?"

"It's called good business. If they do a good job, they'll come out of it alright."

A small monitor flew from the house and hovered in front of Zaphod. He squinted and shaded his eyes.

"Hey, we've got visitors," beamed Zaphod. "Ford and the monkey man are here with some chicks. Freeooww!"

"You mean Arthur," said Trillian firmly. She waited. "Aren't you going to let them in?"

"Not yet, I want to see them ogle a little while longer," chuckled Zaphod. "I can almost hear them saying this can't be my place."

"This can't be Zaphod's place!" Arthur said, disgusted by the fact that he knew it was.

"He must have done pretty well for himself since the Krikkit business," said Ford.

"What was...."

"Don't ask, Fenchurch," snapped Arthur. "It's not something I want to be reminded of."

The door swung silently open. No 'happy service' or ' glad to be of service'. Zaphod had made it big. He stood in the doorway, arms open.

"Hi hi hi guys, good to see me, isn't it. No seriously, hi Ford, Arthur. Who are the chicks?"

"These ladies are Fenchurch and Bolo," said Arthur.

"Hi Bolo, nice to see you again."

"You, you've met?" Spluttered Ford.

"Yes, Zaphod's the guy with the grey limo from Han Dold City," explained Bolo.

"But don't mention it, the soon to be wife's inside," whispered Zaphod. "Come through to the patio."

Trillian got off the sun bed to greet them. After the formal introductions of Fenchurch and Bolo, she put her arms around Ford and Arthur.

"It's great to see you guys again, it's been too long," she said. She had been explained to Fenchurch and Bolo to avoid any embarra.s.sment a gesture like this would have caused.

"And we got here just in time," said Ford, rubbing his hands together. "When's the big night, I mean day?"

"Two days time, we hoped you would make it."

"Wouldn't miss it for the planet." Ford winked at Arthur.

"Nice place you've got here," admired Arthur. It was meant to be admired. The house sprawled lazily like a basking octopus over the entire beach, which curved into a tropical bay. Beautiful snowy mountains rose majestically behind the house.

"It's not bad," said Trillian, looking at Zaphod. "It's the only place we could find to accommodate Zaphod's ego!"

"What, the house or the planet?" Asked Arthur.

"Hey, guys! What is this, get at Zaphod day or something?" Exclaimed Zaphod.

"So, what have you been up to, Zaphod, to get all of this?" Asked Ford. Trillian sighed and took the women away to show them around the house.

"I'm glad you asked. Pull up a sun bed."

"Is it going to take that long?" Asked Arthur.

"No monkey man, you're just looking a little peaky, the suns will do you the world of good." Arthur ignored the insult and climbed on the sun bed. He was immediately turned upside down.

"Turn the dial," said Ford, climbing onto his sun bed.

Arthur fiddled with the dial and eventually got himself into a position where the two suns beat down on either side of his face, casting no shadows.

"This is paradise," he sighed.

"No, it's Beebles, it's got a much better ring to it," said Zaphod. "Anyway, after the Krikkit lark, the galactic police caught up with me, but they just wanted to escort me to the galactic council. They were still angry over the Heart of Gold, but once I explained to them how I saved the Universe from the Krikkits, they were fine."

"But you didn't...." started Arthur.

"Don't interrupt," interrupted Zaphod. "They said I couldn't really go back to being President, but would be willing to give me any other job I wanted. I didn't mess around, guys. I went for the big one. Guys, you are now looking at the new Owner Editor for the Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy." He paused for effect. "With the platinum handshake I got, I put down a deposit for a Magrathean planet. Now I've got my planet and the Magratheans have a full page advert for a year. The rest is made up from the tourist trade."

"So, basically, you're rolling in it," said Ford.

"Exactly," said Zaphod.

"Good, you can pay me the money I'm owed for the coverage on Earth!" Ford held out his hand.

"But I got it all put in instead of the edited version, isn't that enough?"

"No, I don't do this for the love, you know."

"You really find out who your friends are when you become their owner," muttered Zaphod.

"Owner!" Shouted Ford.

"Yeah, apparently, as a researcher your guide remains the property of Megadodo Publications, which is the property of myself, and your contract states that as you are in possession of the guide, you are the property of Megadodo Publications, which is in turn, well, you know the rest."

"Well here's fifty nine point nine nine alterian dollars," said Ford, thrusting money in Zaphod's hand, then took his researchers card out of his pocket and threw it in the swimming pool. "I quit."

"Nice to see you again Ford," beamed Zaphod.

"And you mate," grinned Ford. They embraced, realised how silly they looked and separated. Arthur got on with getting tanned.

"So what about the Stag Night?" Asked Ford.

"Well I thought we could go to Eccentrica Gallumbits' new night club planet, it's supposed to be wild."

"Great," said Ford.

"Are you in, monkey man?" Asked Zaphod.

"Yes, four eyes, I'm in." Arthur dialled himself a greater angle. Screaming and hollering filled the air, causing Arthur to upend his sun bed and land, too heavily, on the floor. Two little kids hammered towards him, leapt over his cowering body and into Zaphod's arms.

"Little brats," he said, grinning paternally. "I've named the oldest one Phil, after my Earth name. The nipper's called Trisha, after Trillian's Earth name."

"Arthur studied them closely. They looked like normal kids, maybe a bit too cute for his liking, but still normal. He breathed a sigh of relief to the fact that they had taken after their mother.

"Children, this is Uncle Ford and Uncle Arthur." Zaphod had changed, thought Arthur. The kids giggled and buried their faces in Zaphod. He shook his heads, still grinning. "Bless 'em."

Arthur felt that 'bless 'em' should be mentioned every time their names were said as an unofficial middle name. He had a niece on Earth called Michaela and he always a.s.sociated her name with 'bless her heart'. Michaela 'bless her heart' Martin. It had a nice ring to it and if you ever met her, you would know how applicable it was. By this time, Zaphod, the kids and Ford had gone inside. Arthur hurried into the house.

Everyone was sitting around a magnificent table, covered by a magnificent feast. The last time Arthur had seen food like this he had found mice on the table. He checked before sitting down. Fenchurch took his hand and squeezed it.

"This incredible," she whispered in his ear.

"I propose a toast," shouted Ford, not knowing the acoustically perfect design of the room would swell his voice to that of a Welsh Male Voice Choir. Everyone lifted their gla.s.ses.

"To Zaphod, Trillian and the kids. May your futbulions never cross and your buquabs never separate."

Only Zaphod appreciated this ancient Betelgeuse toast, but they all drank to it. As they prepared to gorge themselves, Zaphod stood up.

"Did you get us a present?"

"Zaphod!" Said Trillian through clenched teeth.

"Well, they're expected to bring a present. Still, never mind if you haven't, I've enough presence for all of us."

Zaphod was the only one to laugh, as was usual for his attempts at humour.

"Actually, we have," said Arthur, mystifying everyone. He rummaged through his carrier bag and produced some circuit boards. "Sorry they're not gift wrapped."

"Hey, thank you," falsified Zaphod. "I'm touched, we're touched that you thought of us. What are they?"

"Marvin, or at least what's worth keeping."

"So that's where he got to!" Exclaimed Zaphod. "Where's my coat?" His demand went unanswered and the horrified looks from around the table demanded an explanation. "I sent him to the Big Bang Burger Bar to get my coat which I left behind. Perhaps I should have given him the return fare."

"Marvin is dead?" Whispered Trillian, tears br.i.m.m.i.n.g in her eyes. She only remembered the good times, or to be more accurate, the less than lousy times, when Marvin complimented her, or at least was inoffensive towards her.

"I think it would be fairer to say that Marvin has rusted." Zaphod's tact struck like nuclear missile in the bullseye of a dartboard. Trillian ran out of the room crying.

"I think you should keep hold of Marvin for the moment," said Ford. Arthur stuck Marvin in his pocket.

CHAPTER 45.

Death could be defined as that which when mentioned over dinner could cause one person to leave the room crying and for all bar one (Zaphod Beeblebrox) to be put off their magnificent meal. A very personalised definition, admittedly, but a very applicable one even though it is based on a situation with a major misunderstanding. Marvin did not die, although it was what he dearly wished. He ceased to function, which had the desired effect, albeit temporarily. It has been asked why, in addition to Marvin's ability to switch off at any time and with the knowledge that by sticking his left arm in his right ear he could electrocute himself, Marvin never finished himself off a long time ago. Apart from the fact that his programming wouldn't allow him, he would miss out on the opportunity to continue being wretched, which he did until his body could take it no longer.

There are those who feel that Marvin's end was untimely and a bit of an anticlimax considering his eventful life full of narrow escapes, close shaves and apathetic encounters. His escape from the Disaster Area stunt ship has never been fully doc.u.mented (though it can now be revealed that it wasn't as exciting as expected) and will not be disclosed here to remain within the legal boundaries that exist for that section of society with a furtive imagination. Nor can we forget the lengthy tale of how Marvin eventually ended up minus one original leg on the planet Squornsh.e.l.lous Zeta. However, Marvin has ceased to exist as before and will stay that way, unless something really improbable happens.

It may please those who think that this is the very end of Marvin to know that it is indirectly through Marvin that Zaphod, Ford and Arthur, not to mention Trillian, Bolo and Fenchurch, are soon to be sent on their way to save the Universe.

CHAPTER 46.

The scruffy mechanic idled around by the door. Eventually Zaphod opened it.

"I've brought your ship back, goes like a dream now," said the mechanic, wiping his hands on his greasy overalls, achieving nothing.

"It was going like a dream beforehand, I was hoping for a little reality to creep back into it's performance," muttered Zaphod.

"Very good, sir." The mechanic knew of Zaphod's position and wasn't going to jeopardise his by getting c.o.c.ky. "We followed the service instructions down to the last detail. No unnecessary work done. We even changed the filters on the Nutri-Matic Drinks Synthesiser.

"Okay, okay. I had an estimate but let's see how it differs from the present tense expense."

"What?"

"Shee, the bill. You know, the paper with all the big numbers all over it?"

"Oh, yes, right." The mechanic took out a sheet of paper, accidentally on purpose smudging his greasy fingers across the sundries column, which contained the tip for the waiter at an incredibly expensive restaurant he had taken his girlfriend and the Heart of Gold to on a test drive, the replacement solar tiling (the original tiling didn't need replacing but the tiling on his star buggy did) and the money he lost playing Eddie the shipboard computer at electronic halma.

Zaphod signed his name twice against his Editor's expense account number on the bill as the second signature would be worth a bit in years to come and was cheaper than a tip.

"Thanks sir," humbled the mechanic. "And you won't forget the mention in the guide, will you sir?"

"We'll see after I've taken her for a spin. I'll be in touch." Zaphod shut the door. "I'm sure I get ripped off more than bog roll."

Arthur was feeding all his details into the latest gizmo from the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation, the Tailormatic. The principle was very good. By feeding in all bodily details, such as height, weight, number of limbs, etc., the Tailormatic would link up to the fashion mainframes around the Universe to consult what the latest fashions were and then synthetically create an ideal outfit. Unfortunately, it was programmed by the same man who programmed the Nutri-Matic machine and didn't always produce the goods, so to speak.

Arthur hit the enter b.u.t.ton and the Tailormatic shook into action. Eventually, a cellophane wrapped package popped out. Once Arthur had spent five minutes removing pins and cardboard, he tried it on.