Zaphod tried to size the man up. Earnest type, he thought, not a barrel of laughs. He probably apportioned a fair whack of his time to running up and down heaving corridors, breaking down doors and making cryptic remarks in empty offices.
“Let me introduce myself,” the man said, “My name is Roosta, and this is my towel.”
“Hello Roosta,” said Zaphod.
“Hello, towel,” he added as Roosta held out to him a rather nasty old flowery towel. Not knowing what to do with it, he shook it by the corner.
Outside the window, one of the huge slug-like, gunmetal-green spaceships growled past.
“Yes, go on,” said Marvin to the huge battle machine, “you’ll never guess.”
“Errmmm…” said the machine, vibrating with unaccustomed thought, “l(fā)aser beams?”
Marvin shook his head solemnly.
“No,” muttered the machine in its deep guttural rumble, “Too obvious. Anti-matter ray?” it hazarded.
“Far too obvious,” admonished Marvin.
“Yes,” grumbled the machine, somewhat abashed, “Er… how about an electron ram?”
This was new to Marvin.
“What’s that?” he said.
“One of these,” said the machine with enthusiasm.
From its turret emerged a sharp prong which spat a single lethal blaze of light. Behind Marvin a wall roared and collapsed as a heap of dust. The dust billowed briefly, then settled.
“No,” said Marvin, “not one of those.”
“Good though, isn’t it?”
“Very good,” agreed Marvin.
“I know,” said the Frogstar battle machine, after another moment’s consideration, “you must have one of those new Xanthic Re-Structron Destabilized Zenon Emitters!”
“Nice, aren’t they?” said Marvin.
“That’s what you’ve got?” said the machine in considerable awe.
“No,” said Marvin.
“Oh,” said the machine, disappointed, “then it must be…”