"I m glad to see the values of marriage haven't been lost on you, Zaphod," said Arthur, trying to decide between a mirror and a box of matches.

"Now this is the sort of thing I've been looking for," said Zaphod, leaving his other head to ponder the expected turnover of his wedding. "This Neutron-Breaking Desolation Ray Gun will do for a start."

"I don't know why you're all bothering with this," observed Marvin.

"Zark off, Marvin," said Ford, grabbing a bag of gold coins. "Do something useful."

"I'm going for a walk," said Marvin.

"Very useful, thanks a bundle," shouted Arthur.

"Okay," said Zaphod. "I've got the Ray Gun, the heat seeking Davy knife, the laser spear and that murder grenade over there, if you could pass it to me, Ford."

"Sounds like you're about to embark on what the Americans on Earth used to call a 'Peace Keeping Exercise'," said Arthur.

Ford threw the grenade to Zaphod who held his hand out to catch it and was blown across the room on contact.

"You can only carry three items," came a synthesised voice.

"Okay, okay," said Zaphod, stunned. "I got your message, I'll leave the grenade behind."

"I'm taking a towel, a bag of gold coins and a blast gun," said Ford, looking for the voice. "That's all, honest."

"I think I'll take a blast gun as well, plus a mirror," said Arthur. "And I've found a copy of the Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy here. It's helped me in all my travels so far."

"Very touching," said Zaphod. "I'll sue the bastards for unlawful use of the Guide without the Editor's permission."

"Are we going to save the Universe or draw up a law suit against the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation?" Asked Ford.

"Right, troops," said Zaphod. "Let's keep a tight formation, Arthur, cover our backs, Ford, watch for snipers. Okay, wagons roll!"

"Excuse me, Zaphod," said Ford, as Zaphod stuck his chest out in preparation for a non-existent swell from an orchestra. "Don't you think we should have a plan?"

"Aw, belgium man," cried Zaphod. "You ruined a great moment."

"It was hardly MGM," pointed out Arthur, none too happy about covering the back, as the last man always got jumped by the Indians.

"Okay, okay, guys," said Zaphod, putting his heads together. "Let's do some brainstorming."

"We'd be lucky if you could muster a light drizzle, Zaphod." Ford felt quite proud of that one.

"Shush," said Zaphod, closing his eyes in a poor attempt to look like he was concentrating. "Ideas, guys, ideas. Arthur?"

"Well if we have to disable the computer," he started, unsure as to whether he would be able to finish. "When we reach the computer, couldn't we just pull the plug?"

"Come on, Arthur," sighed Ford. "We're not dealing with a 13 amp three pin here."

"Well you asked," said Arthur.

"We all make mistakes," said Zaphod. "Ford?"

"We could plug Marvin into it," offered Ford. "Get him to do his version of 'Reasons to be Miserable'. That would destroy anything."

"Possible back up but not spectacular enough," mused Zaphod. "How does this sound? We enter the ventilation system and crawl through the pipes until we reach the computer suite. Then we swoop! We swing down on ropes, screaming in from the sun, well, fluorescent lighting, then pow! Boom! Bang! Swoosh! Kerrang! Bash! Smash! Crunch! A couple more pows and one final boom! Guns ablazing, we destroy the databanks, scorch the CPU and terminate the terminals. Now that's what I call debugging! Strategists will re-enact it for eons to come. 'Zaphod Computer Killer Kits' will be available from all good stockists. Kids will walk around wearing tee shirts emblazoned with 'Now that's what I call debugging' and 'Zaphod say debug, don't do it'. I'll make a fortune."

"Where do we get the ropes?" Asked Arthur. "I don't see any here."

"And if we did have them, where do we tie them to when we swoop?" Furthered Ford. "Do we say 'Excuse me, computer suite guards, could you just look the other way for five minutes while we tie our ropes up so we can do a surprise swooping attack?' Very plausible."

"Boom, pow, no mercy, death to the diodes, murder those microchips...." Zaphod paused, stopped swiping his fist into the palm of one of his other hands, looked at Ford and Arthur then dropped his heads. He lowered his voice to it's most disappointed level. "Okay, we'll use Marvin. Where is he?"

Marvin was wandering. Not a happy, joyful stroll, more a sort of morose meander. Nevertheless, he had a purpose. On the basis of the information he had gained from his limited conversation with Zaphod, Ford and Arthur, he decided to do an improbability sum. He knew where they had been due to a particle analysis test he ran on meeting them again to pass the time. He knew where he was, because he was that sort of robot. He linked his mind modem into Eddie on the Heart of Gold to assess the ship's speed, weight, improbability velocity, relative journey time in nanoseconds, molecular reabsorbtion during flight and the general mood the ship was in during the trip to Sirius. To this he added his knowledge of improbability physics, the space vector correlation, wind factors, quasi-social and semi-structural effects data from previous flights and the general mood he was in. To this he subtracted 42, divided the remainder by the square root of -l and related his answer to the floor layout of the initiative test. He knew that the total opposite of calculated position was where he wanted to go.

The room to which Marvin was heading was locked from the outside, much to the annoyance of it's occupants. They had tried everything they could think of with the candle, box of matches and blank piece of paper they had been left. Lighting the candle with the matches only lit the candle and trying to push the key out with the matches to catch on the piece of paper pushed under the door had no effect. The key was a dud anyway. Trying to burn the door down showed desperation and was doomed from the start but supplied some excuse to vent anger. The same applied to trying to kick down the door.

"There must be a logical solution," said Fenchurch.

"Why?" Asked Bolo. "There's no logical explanation as to why we ended up here, is there?"

"Well it's all very improbable," sighed Trillian. "So I imagine the men had something to do with it as they were using the Heart of Gold tonight."

"Why don't we try burning the matches and writing a note on the paper with the burnt sticks, slip it under the door and perhaps someone will see it," said Fenchurch.

"It's worth a try," said Trillian.

"No it's not," said Marvin as the door slid open to a jovial 'happy service'.

"Marvin!" Cried Trillian. She flung her arms around him. "Are we glad to see you."

"No you're not," sulked Marvin.

"We are," said Fenchurch. "We thought we'd be stuck here for days."

"How did you open the door?" Asked Trillian.

"Simple," said Marvin. "I said 'Macaroni'."

"Is that logical?" Asked Fenchurch.

"Look," started Marvin, making it perfectly clear he didn't want to. "If you had held the paper over the candle lit by the matches, then the word 'Macaroni' would have appeared."

"I take it this is the Marvin you told me about," said Bolo.

"Well it sounds like him," said Trillian. "Marvin, I thought you were, er....."

"Yes, so did I," moaned Marvin. "Come on, we've got work to do."