The Heart of Gold Heart of Gold lifted silently off the s.p.a.ceport concrete. lifted silently off the s.p.a.ceport concrete.

'It never hurts to have a back-up plan,' said Zaphod, then he was gone.

Left Brain had been plugged into the plasma a bit long and was feeling a little hyper.

'Look who it is, the great Galactic President, gracing us with his presence.'

Zaphod heaved the sack of gold into a locker. 'Hey, LB. Nice work with the light and wind machine.'

Left Brain bonked Zaphod with his gla.s.s. 'I don't appreciate being used as your effects guy. You were elected President of the Galaxy, Zaphod. Don't you have any dignity?'

Zaphod rubbed his crown. 'I don't understand the question.'

He strode to the bridge, pa.s.sing through several auto-doors that were programmed to recognize him and deliver appropriately laudatory comments as he pa.s.sed through.

'Oooh, he looks fit,' gushed service corridor one.

'Nice hair, Zaphy,' piped the central elevator, who had always been a little cheeky.

'You make me wanna be organic,' said the midship bridge door.

As he sauntered on to the bridge, feeling about fifteen esteemetres better about himself, Zaphod noticed a hammer icon revolving on the main screen.

'When did that come in?' he asked Left Brain, who was of course hovering by his shoulder, suspiciously close to the spot where he used to be attached.

'A few hours ago. I think I have separation anxiety,' said Left Brain. 'I miss my neck.'

'No problem,' said Zaphod, settling into the captain's chair. 'We can get you stuck back on here whenever you like.'

'No thanks,' said Left Brain. 'I can take a few pills for the anxiety, or maybe buy a Hol-O-Trunk. Anything is better than waking up beside an asinine lout like yourself.'

Zaphod thought the word 'asinine' to himself several times then immediately forgot it.

'Play the message.'

'Background music?'

'No. Just whatever came in, and I don't want anyone overhearing this.'

'Very well. Shields up.'

On screen the hammer icon twirled and became a video box. Thor's hirsute features filled the screen.

'Hey, Zaph. h.e.l.lo, h.e.l.lo. This is a... I bet this isn't even... Okay, okay, now I see it. We're on.' The G.o.d composed himself. 'h.e.l.lo, Zaphod, this is your client, Thor the Thunder G.o.d. I am not dead, as you probably guessed.'

'I had guessed,' crowed Zaphod, punching the air.

Guide Note: The whole martyrdom concept has been working well for G.o.ds since the mid-morning of time when Raymon the Louche, resident G.o.d of Tarpon VII, avoided making a ruling over who owned what baby by faking his own death through o.r.g.a.s.mic overdose. Raymon realized that people liked him much better now that he was dead and they tended to base their decisions on third-hand hearsay of stuff he might have whispered under his breath to a deaf leper in a cave. Raymon's cheque still went directly into his account and now all he had to do was appear in shadowy form to a virgin once every few thousand years and say something cryptic like, 'The tiny stones will save us all, be sure that you covet the pebbles.' The Raymon method became such a successful model that soon G.o.ds all over the Galaxy were faking their deaths and cursing Raymon for copyrighting death by o.r.g.a.s.mic overdose.

Thor leaned in close to the camera. 'It was the martyr comment. Like you said. I was walking along that big bomb, thinking that if I let it kill me then the humans would think I died for them. So I gave it a hundred per cent up to the Vogon ship when I heard the detonator spark and hid in their pipework for a minute. I thought I'd tap the ship with Mjollnir, make it look like a bit of shrapnel did for her, but then they just took off into hypers.p.a.ce. Don't know why. Don't care either. Anyway, that's it. I'm off back to Asgard now, ready for resurrection if you need me. I think I might have pulled my groin though, so give me a while to get my fitness back. Give me a buzz, let me know if the martyr thing worked. Also, get me some gold, I am so strapped it's not funny. Last thing, keep your eye out for my helmet. I must have lost it in the explosion and it's my favourite one. I'm going to sign off, I have another call coming in.' Thor beat his chest with one fist, then winked at the camera. 'Nice work, manager.'

Zaphod closed the video window, flabbergasted. 'Wow,' he said. 'I can't believe that martyr idea worked. Also, I am amazed that Thor picked up on it, subtle as it is. My stratagems are generally so nuanced that most people need to hear them a couple of times.'

Left Brain bobbed before Zaphod's eyes. 'You don't remember saying anything about martyrs, do you?'

'No,' replied Zaphod. 'But that doesn't mean I didn't say it.'

'So you actually thought your one client was dead?'

'Of course not. You can't kill a G.o.d. Even that guy who drove into the white hole is still alive, even if his parts are spread across several dimensions.'

'What about that special bomb?'

Zaphod snorted. 'The QUEST? Who do you think sold that to the Vogons? I'm surprised it didn't fall out of the sky. I put a lawnmower engine on that thing.'

Left Brain was quiet for a moment, except for the clicking of spider-bots gathering condensation on the inner curve of his...o...b..

'Just the two of us again. What would you like to do?'

Zaphod crossed his boots on the console. 'I don't know. Thor's martyrdom video needs a while to go viral, so we have time on our hands. What were we doing before all this?'

'We were raising funds for your re-election campaign.'

Zaphod was surprised. 'We were? But I'm already President.'

'You were were President,' corrected Left Brain in the patient tone of a pre-school teacher explaining for the umpteenth time why it was not a good idea to drink the paint water, 'until the moment you were convicted of a first-degree felony.' President,' corrected Left Brain in the patient tone of a pre-school teacher explaining for the umpteenth time why it was not a good idea to drink the paint water, 'until the moment you were convicted of a first-degree felony.'

'But everyone still calls me Mr President.'

'All ex-presidents are known as Mr President.'

'Isn't that confusing?'

'Not for more than half a second, if you have half a brain.'

Zaphod frowned. 'Do you have to multiply those halves?'

Left Brain steamed in his jar. 'Just forget the halves. You were president, now you're not. Is that straightforward enough for you?'

'So who is the actual President?'

'Currently?'

'Yes. And right now.'

Left Brain did not take a moment to consult anything because everyone knew who the Galactic President was, with the exception of all the regular pa.s.sengers on this ship, with the possible but definitely not definite exception of Ford Prefect.

'It's Spinale Trunco of the Headless Hors.e.m.e.n tribe of Jaglan Beta.'

Zaphod bolted upright, which is not easy when your feet are propped on a console. His heel stumps sparked as he stamped in vexation.

'What? Trunco? But he has no heads. Not a single head does he have. Zero on the shoulders.'

'We've been through this, Zaphod.'

'Not in the past twenty minutes, we haven't. And you know what my retention is like.'

'I'm surprised you retained retention.'

'Exactly. Right, LB, enter the coordinates for my const.i.tuency.'

'You don't have a const.i.tuency and if you did it would be the entire Galaxy.'

'Well take me to the centre of the Galaxy then. If Zaphod Beeblebrox is back, people need to know it. I need to throw up at a club, have liaisons in a toilet. Possibly go on a realty reality show.'

'I think the first order of business is to get the first degree felony charge reduced to a second degree. That way you can run for office.'

'Good thinking, LB. Who do we pay off?'

This time Left Brain consulted his data banks. 'Improbably enough, Spinale Trunco.'

'Old Trunco. There was something about him...'

'No heads.'

'Not a one. b.a.s.t.a.r.d.'

It took Left Brain a few seconds to hack into the presidential security detail's schedule.

'Trunco is currently relaxing at his stable compound on Jaglan Beta.'

'Then we go to Jaglan Beta.'

Left Brain squinted while he beamed the coordinates to the Improbability Drive. 'You know Trunco hates you, Zaphod? You might need something a little more tempting than that sack of gold I scanned you with.'

Zaphod gave Left Brain a thumbs-up, and it took the disembodied head a moment to realize that there was something on one of the thumbs. A tiny horned helmet.

'I might have something to bargain with,' said Zaphod.

s.p.a.ce Thor had pulled in to an asteroid to try and connect with Zaphod, and was sitting in a little pocket of oxygen on the surface when he switched over to the incoming call. He didn't actually need breathable air, but it did help stave off migraine, plus it made talking on the phone a lot easier when he didn't have to dig into the magic well just to make his voice heard in s.p.a.ce.

'Thunder G.o.d here,' he said into Mjollnir's handle. 'Talk to me.'

A little golden head appeared on the hammer's head. 'Hey, thunder girl, what's up?'

'Bishop. Nice to see you. There's quite a lot up, actually. I have a flock now. Genuine believers. There's maybe one warrior in the bunch, but it's a start.'

The chess piece took a pull on his cigarette. 'That's great, Thor, and I'm calling you with more good news.'

'Really? What?'

'It's about your video,' said Bishop. 'It's at number one with a couple of billion hits. A regular Sub-Etha sensation.'

Thor's heart sank. 'When are they going to let that go? I dress up in one bustier and the Universe never forgets.'

'No. Not that one. The new one with you clobbering the green guy who insulted everybody. Apparently there are a lot of people thrilled to see him getting his comeuppance.'

'Number one? Really? That's fantastic.'

'Yeah. Lovely hammer action, by the way, leading with your body like I told you. You're back on top, my friend.'

Thor grinned hugely. 'This is great. Call Dad and Mom. Call everyone. Big session in my hall tonight. I want mead and pigs and beef and virgins.'

'What about squid?'

'No. No squid. But whatever else you can get, and make sure the Valkyrie get an invite.'

Bishop punched the air. 'The Thunder is back,' he said.

'That's right,' said Thor. 'The Thunder is back.'

He hung up, took off, then turned round and smashed the asteroid from sheer exuberance.

Hey, said the spirit of Fenrir. That was my tooth That was my tooth.

The Business End Business End Constant Mown lay on his bunk, staring at his own face in the Barbie mirror.

'You did the right thing,' he told himself over and over, though he did switch the sentence structure around a bit to fool his subconscious into thinking it was hearing something new.

'It was a good thing you did. The right thing.'

Then, 'What you did back there. That was totally right. A good thing.'

The face in the mirror, inside the pink plastic frame, was friendly but worried. He had saved the Earthlings, it was true, but there were many species on the to endanger to endanger list, and that list, and that taxpaying citizens taxpaying citizens trick would only work as often as it was legal which would not be very often, now that Prostetnic Jeltz had experienced it once. trick would only work as often as it was legal which would not be very often, now that Prostetnic Jeltz had experienced it once.

That will be the first thing he checks from now on. Who are these people we are about to obliterate?

'You will find a way,' said the face in the mirror, a face that looked almost kindly without the drool cup.

Mown never left his quarters without his drool cup now. The last thing he wanted to look was kindly, which could be seen as a symptom of evolution. As a matter of fact, Mown had added a foot crimper to his wardrobe after the Twinkletoes comment on the bridge. It didn't do to be too sprightly on a Vogon deck.

'One day we will dance,' he said to his reflection.

'One day we will sing,' said the face in the mirror, and then, 'It was the right thing to do, what you did back there. Right and good.'

His father's voice erupted from the speaker over Mown's bed.

'Constant! I have some planetary council or other on the line claiming that because of their leap year system, we haven't given enough notice of their enforced destruction. I need you to take a look at it.'