Dim lights and heavy shapes hung in it.

High in the sky, where no Krikkiter ever looked, were the War Zones, the Robot Zones — huge warships and tower blocks floating in the Nil-O-Grav fields far above the idyllic pastoral lands of the surface of Krikkit.

Trillian stared at them and thought.

“Trillian,” whispered Ford Prefect to her.

“Yes?” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking.”

“Do you always breathe like that when you’re thinking?”

“I wasn’t aware that I was breathing.”

“That’s what worried me.”

“I think I know.…” said Trillian.

“Shhhh!” said Slartibartfast in alarm, and his thin trembling hand motioned them farther back beneath the shadow of the tree.

Suddenly, as before in the tape, there were lights coming along the hill path, but this time the dancing beams were not from lanterns but flashlights — not in itself a dramatic change, but every detail made their hearts thump with fear. This time there were no lilting whimsical songs about flowers and farming and dead dogs, but hushed voices in urgent debate.

A light moved in the sky with slow weight. Arthur was clenched with a claustrophobic terror and the warm wind caught at his throat.

Within seconds a second party became visible, approaching from the other side of the dark hill. They were moving swiftly and purposefully, their flashlights swinging and probing around them.

The parties were clearly converging, and not merely with each other. They were converging deliberately on the spot where Arthur and the others were standing.

Arthur heard the slight rustle as Ford Prefect raised his Zap gun to his shoulder, and the slight whimpering cough as Slartibartfast raised his. He felt the cold unfamiliar weight of his own gun, and with shaking hands he raised it.

His fingers fumbled to release the safety catch and engage the extreme danger catch as Ford had shown him. He was shaking so much that if he’d fired at anybody at that moment he probably would have burnt his signature on them.

Only Trillian didn’t raise her gun. She raised her eyebrows, lowered them again and bit her lip in thought.

“Has it occurred to you …” she began, but nobody wanted to discuss anything much at the moment.

A light stabbed through the darkness from behind them and they spun around to find a third party of Krikkiters behind them, searching them out with their flashlights.

Ford Prefect’s gun crackled viciously, but fire spat back at it and it crashed from his hands.

There was a moment of pure fear, a frozen second before anyone fired again.

And at the end of the second nobody fired.

They were surrounded by pale-faced Krikkiters and bathed in bobbing light.

The captives stared at their captors, the captors stared at their captives.

“Hello,” said one of the captors, “excuse me, but are you … aliens?”

Chapter 28

Meanwhile, more millions of miles away than the mind can comfortably encompass, Zaphod Beeblebrox was feeling bored.

He had repaired his ship — that is, he’d watched with alert interest while a service robot had repaired it for him. It was now, once again, one of the most powerful and extraordinary ships in existence. He could go anywhere, do anything. He fiddled with a book, and then tossed it away It was the one he’d read before.

He walked over to the communications bank and opened an all-frequencies emergency channel.

“Anyone want a drink?” he asked.

“This an emergency, feller?” crackled a voice from halfway across the Galaxy.

“Got any mixers?” said Zaphod.

“Go take a ride on a comet.”

“Okay, okay,” said Zaphod, and flipped the channel shut again. He sighed and sat down. He got up again and wandered over to a computer screen. He pushed a few buttons. Little blobs started to rush around the screen eating each other.

“Pow!” said Zaphod, “freeeoooo! Pop pop pop!”

“Hi there,” said the computer brightly after a minute of this, “you have scored three points. Previous best score, seven million five hundred and ninety-seven thousand, two hundred and …”

“Okay, okay,” said Zaphod, and flipped the screen blank again.

He sat down again. He played with a pencil. This, too, began slowly to lose its fascination.

“Okay, okay,” he said, and fed his score and the previous best one into the computer.

His ship made a blur of the Universe.

Chapter 29

Tell us,” said the thin, pale-faced Krikkiter who had stepped forward from the ranks of the others and stood uncertainly in the circle of light handling his gun as if he were just holding it for someone else who’d just popped off somewhere but would be back in a minute, “do you know anything about something called the balance of nature?”

There was no reply from their captives, or at least nothing more articulate than a few confused mumbles and grunts. The flashlight continued to play over them. High in the sky above them dark activity continued in the Robot Zones.

“It’s just,” continued the Krikkiter uneasily, “something we heard about, probably nothing important. Well, I suppose we’d better kill you, then.”

He looked down at his gun as if he were trying to find which bit to press.

“That is,” he said, looking up again, “unless there’s anything you want to chat about?”

Slow numb astonishment crept up the bodies of Slartibartfast, Ford and Arthur. Very soon it would reach their brains, which were at the moment solely occupied with moving their jawbones up and down. Trillian was shaking her head as if trying to finish a jigsaw puzzle by shaking the box.

“We’re worried, you see,” said another man from the crowd, “about this plan of universal destruction.”

“Yes,” added another, “and the balance of nature. It just seemed to us that if the whole of the rest of the Universe is destroyed it will somehow upset the balance. We’re quite keen on ecology, you see.” His voice trailed away unhappily.

“And sport,” said another, loudly. This got a cheer of approval from the others.

“Yes,” agreed the first, “and sport …” He looked back at his fellows uneasily and scratched fitfully at his cheek. He seemed to be wrestling with some deep inner confusion, as if everything he wanted to say and everything he thought were entirely different things between which he could see no possible connection.

“You see,” he mumbled, “some of us …” and he looked around again as if for confirmation. The others made encouraging noises. “Some of us,” he continued, “are quite keen to have sporting links with the rest of the Galaxy, and though I can see the argument about keeping sport out of politics, I think that if we want to have sporting links with the rest of the Galaxy, which we do, then it’s probably a mistake to destroy it. And indeed the rest of the Universe … His voice trailed away again, “which is what seems to be the idea now …”

“Wh …” said Slartibartfast, “wh …”

“Hhhh …?” said Arthur.

“Dr.…” said Ford Prefect.

“Okay,” said Trillian, “let’s talk about it.” She walked forward and took the poor confused Krikkiter by the arm. He looked about twenty-five, which meant, because of the peculiar manglings of time that had been going on in this area, that he would have been just twenty when the Krikkit Wars were finished, ten billion years ago.

Trillian led him for a short walk through the light before she said anything more. He stumbled uncertainly after her. The encircling flashlight beams were drooping slightly now as if they were abdicating to this strange, quiet girl who alone in this Universe of dark confusion seemed to know what she was doing.

She turned and faced him, and lightly held both his arms. He was a picture of bewildered misery.

“Tell me,” she said.