But the end never came, at least not then.
Quite suddenly the barrage stopped, and the sudden silence afterwards was punctuated by a couple of strangled gurgles and thuds.
The four stared at each other. “What happened?” said Arthur.
“They stopped,” said Zaphod with a shrug. “Why?”
“Dunno, do you want to go and ask them?” “No.”
They waited.
“Hello?” called out Ford. No answer.
“That’s odd.” “Perhaps it’s a trap.”
“They haven’t the wit.” y
“What were those thuds?” “Dunno.”
They waited for a few more seconds.
“Right,” said Ford, “I’m going to have a look.” He glanced round at the others.
“Is no one going to say, No you can’t possibly, let me go instead?” They all shook their heads.
“Oh well,” he said, and stood up. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, after a second or so, nothing continued to happen. Ford peered through the thick smoke that was billowing out of the burning computer.
Cautiously he stepped out into the open. Still nothing happened.
Twenty yards away he could dimly see through the smoke the space-suited figure of one of the cops. He was lying in a crumpled heap on the ground. Twenty yards in the other direction lay the second man. No one else was anywhere to be seen.
This struck Ford as being extremely odd.
Slowly, nervously, he walked towards the first one. The body lay reassuringly still as he approached it, and continued to lie reassuringly still as he reached it and put his foot down on the Kill-O-Zap gun that still dangled from its limp fingers.
He reached down and picked it up, meeting no resistance. The cop was quite clearly dead.
A quick examination revealed him to be from Blagulon Kappa – he was a methane-breathing life form, dependent on his space suit for survival in the thin oxygen atmosphere of Magrathea.
The tiny life-support system computer on his backpack appeared unexpectedly to have blown up.
Ford poked around in it in considerable astonishment. These miniature suit computers usually had the full back-up of the main computer back on the ship, with which they were directly linked through the sub-etha. Such a system was fail-safe in all circumstances other than total feedback
malfunction, which was unheard of.
He hurried over to the other prone figure, and discovered that exactly the same impossible thing had happened to him, presumably simultaneously.
He called the others over to look. They came, shared his astonishment, but not his curiosity.
“Let’s get shot out of this hole,” said Zaphod. “If whatever I’m supposed to be looking for is here, I don’t want it.” He grabbed the second Kill-O-Zap gun, blasted a perfectly harmless accounting computer and rushed out into the corridor, followed by the others. He very nearly blasted hell out of an aircar that stood waiting for them a few yards away.
The aircar was empty, but Arthur recognized it as belonging to Slartibartfast. It had a note from him pinned to part of its sparse instrument panel.
The note had an arrow drawn on it, pointing at one of the controls. It said, This is probably the best button to press.
