(a/n: Written for the st xi kink meme. Only borrowing for the sake of entertainment.)
They were not a shade of blue (green, actually, but one could hardly tell), but they were still perhaps the most intelligent beings in the galaxy.
"You wish to know the answer."
"Yes," Lunkwill said softly, trying to push a little bit more majesty into the moment.
"To the question."
"Indeed," added Fook, deeming his partner's majestic intonation a failure.
"Yes," the two scientists said simultaneously.
"Yesssss ," they said, abandoning majesty for groveling desperation.
"Please, O Highest Surak. Impart upon us your knowledge," Lunkwill practically screeched. Fook nodded his head enthusiastically beside him.
"Your request…is illogical."
The duo exchanged one long look before turning back to nod at Surak and thanked him, trying not to look heartbroken. They gripped their briefcases a little tighter.
It was back to the drawing room again.
But not before "borrowing" the Vulcans' blueprints for the most stupendous supercomputer the galaxy had ever seen.
Captain's Log, stardate 1701.42:
Enterprise is currently in orbit around a class M planet that the science records hesitantly call "Magrathea", based upon the old myths. As not much is known about the planet, myself and my crew have been ordered on a classified scientific investigation of its surface. Although, I am inclined to believe that one of my crew knows more about the planet than he his letting on.
Captain Kirk concluded the audio log, eyes straying over towards the science station where his first officer sat doing calculations. He stood up from the captain's chair and strode over, arm over the console.
"Readings, Mr. Spock?"
The half-Vulcan looked up at him, all business.
"Perfectly habitable atmosphere, Captain. Humanoid life signs detected on planet surface, although they would appear to be in stasis. There is no way to determine from this distance."
"In stasis…that's unusual." Kirk sighed, leaning in closer to speak in a whisper. "Come with me, Commander. I have something I need to ask you about."
Although it was enough to warrant the quirk of an eyebrow, Spock stood to follow the captain to the turbolift.
"Sulu, you have the conn," Kirk shouted over his shoulder as they left. The young helmsman stood, immediately replaced by a red-shirted crew member, and stood in front of the captain's chair.
"Everybody, get your towels ready," he said sort of quietly to the rest of the bridge, "'cuz it's about to go down."
"Aye, laddie," Scotty said zealously from his station, whipping his own towel out, just to know that it was there. They exchanged a knowing look.
Kirk looked his first officer in the eyes.
"Spock…what do you know about Magrathea?"
He opened his mouth to respond, but Kirk cut him off.
"Not what you know the records say. What you know."
The captain got the feeling that Spock would have sighed and shrugged were he not so Vulcan. But resignation was an emotion.
"I request that we discuss this in my quarters, Captain," he said quietly, and Kirk responded with a nod.
Once inside, the half-Vulcan reached over to a drawer and pulled out an electronic book. On the cover were the words "Don't Panic!" The captain restrained a snort of laughter, thinking that that was good advice, and waited for an explanation.
"A long time ago," Spock began as he quickly keyed something into the book's index.
"In a galaxy, far, far away?" Kirk supplied, unable to help himself. This only earned him a glare.
"A great many centuries ago," Spock amended, "the planet Magrathea was used as a base for the industry of…creating luxury planets."
"Creating planets?" Kirk repeated, incredulous. He quickly realized the implications. "What…? How…?"
"Although the venture was successful, it caused a vast increase in the socio-economic disparity of that sector of the galaxy, and therefore, no one was able to afford these luxury planets." Spock handed him the electronic book, and he took it, staring in awe at the display. All the information was there. From the planet's characteristics, a rather superfluous description of its twin suns, and finally, its place wealth-wise in the former Galactic Empire.
"Almost three centuries ago, your own Earth was destroyed."
Kirk looked up from the strange book to give Spock his full attention.
"The majority of Earth did not even realize, as it was eventually replaced with a planet the Magratheans developed called 'Earth Mark II'."
Kirk didn't even want to think about how little that made sense. So many questions. But first.
"What is this book?" he blurted. "It's not Starfleet; it's not even Federation…"
"No, Captain, it is not. It is called the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and I am an editor for it."
"Oh, for Zarquon's sake, Marvin!" Zaphod Beeblebrox bellowed on the bridge of the Heart of Gold. "Shut up about your bloody diodes! There is no pain! Robots do. not. zarking. feel PAIN!" He chucked his empty glass at the Paranoid Android, not really paying attention as the robot stood in a mechanical huff, mumbling something about humans and his vastly superior, planet-sized brain. Zaphod went to take another sip from his glass, then realized he had just thrown it at Marvin. And that was a very unfortunate predicament.
"Wait, Marvin, come back! I need someone to make me another Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster!"
He waited a moment.
"He's not coming back." A little sigh came from the door to the bridge as Arthur Dent entered.
"Oh, well, then you get to entertain me, Monkey Man," Zaphod said dryly. Arthur ignored him, searching for Ford. He found him beneath the potted palm, staring slightly catatonically off into space with that four Gargle Blaster stare. Arthur leaned over him.
"Hello, Arthur," Ford broke into one of those tremendous awkward grins at the sight of his friend, and Arthur suddenly had the powerful feeling of reverse déjà vu. And imminent danger. But that was only a slight side-effect of remaining in a Betelguesian's company.
"Ford," the Earthman said sort of impatiently, "I need to talk to you about that day on Santraginus V…"
"Have a drink, Arthur." Ford shot up, shoving a martini glass in his hands.
"No, I don't think so, Ford," he mumbled, looking at the glass and wholeheartedly wishing it was tea.
"Fine, then, more for me," Ford said, then snatched the glass away from him and tossed it back with ease.
In the meantime, Zaphod had managed to procure himself another drink, and was putzing around with the Improbability Drive.
"Somebody give me some coordinates to input into this thing!" he shouted.
"How about…" Arthur said cautiously, dredging from his memory, "How about…"
"…Two to the power of one hundred thousand to one against," Spock concluded. "Although even the Vulcan Science Academy has concluded that despite the unlikelihood of having Vulcan restored…"
"It would still be logical to try," Kirk nodded eagerly, smiling slightly. He put a hand on his first officer's shoulder. "Don't worry, Mr. Spock. We will try."
The Vulcan nodded. Confiding in the captain about the Science Academy's wish to reawaken Magrathea again had been a wise idea. Kirk turned to leave, eyes lingering on the Guide where he had replaced it onto the desk earlier.
"…May I?" he asked, reaching towards the book.
"Certainly," Spock responded. "You may find some research to be beneficial."
The captain nodded again, looking down at the book for a moment before taking it into his hands.
"Thanks," he said sincerely before turning out of the room and heading for his own quarters to study the strange electronic book.
Ensign Agrajag peered contentedly out through the force field separating the Engineering deck of the NCC-1701 from the black of outer space. It was the twenty-third century, and Arthur Philip Dent would have been dead for about 150 years. Agrajag felt a sense of accomplishment rush through him. He had survived. He had survived this long, and this might finally, finally be the life he lived to the fullest, dying of natural causes, or by something, anything else other than at the hand of the one who had murdered him thousands and thousands of times.
His decision to attend Starfleet Academy was an excellent one. He deeply enjoyed his work with the warp core with his fellow crewmates, and foresaw a quick progression in rank. Perhaps, one day, he could even command a starship of his own. All in all, a fairly decent incarnation, he thought smugly, tugging down his red tunic and gazing off into space.
A gleaming white spaceship shaped vaguely like a tennis-shoe popped into existence a parsec or two ahead.
Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott looked up in alarm at the gurgling noises coming from one felled ensign near the window.
"Och, laddie, what's troublin' ye?" he asked tentatively.
"DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENT!" Agrajag screeched. "I'LL BE DAMNED IF YOU KILL ME THIS TIME!"
The young ensign suddenly stood and stormed from the deck, hissing horrible curses and obscenities.
"I wonder what's got his towel in a snit?" Scotty mumbled, returning back to a rather intrusive maintenance check-up with the Jeffries tubes.
Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz had to admit: his current plans for the day only involved half the blatant sadism and nowhere near the amount of petty revenge. It was almost a tempting offer. Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz settled loudly back onto his gazellelike-creature seat and took up his mallet again, crushing a bejeweled crab for the umpteenth time that day.
"But why should I destroy an entire spaceship just to blow up your mortal enemy?" he drawled to the red-shirted figure on the view screen. "I mean, what's in it
"I don't know," Agrajag snapped. "The satisfaction of a job badly done, or whatever else you'd like."
"Perhaps…" Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz said, looking off into space, "I can read someone my latest poem."
He looked at Agrajag with some strange, distorted version of a smile.
"It's a doozy."
(a/n: Well, this is fun. Suggestions greatly welcome; working on chapter 2 but don't quite have enough yet.)