He took three giant steps and was soon just a few feet away from the desk. He could see over the back of the chair, and thus the back of the person's head.
"I've been looking all over for you," Hunter began, not knowing what else to say.
No response.
"I was sent to search for you by an old friend of yours," he went on. The piano music in the background was becoming more intense.
Still nothing.
"The entire Galaxy needs your help," Hunter tried.
"I know that all too well," the man behind the desk finally responded.
"Then can we talk about it?" Hunter asked him. "I've come a long way, went through a lot, visited many of your attractions just to find you. You should know exactly why I've come—"
"I know very well why you're here," the voice said.
There was a bit of sadness in its tone. And the voice sounded familiar, too. Just a little bit of an accent. "That's the problem…"
That's when the man in the chair slowly turned around, and Hunter finally saw his face. He was shocked.
It was Dr. Zoloff. Certainly an older, hairier version of the man depicted in the faded photo on the back of the ticket stub. But now, in the light, at this moment, Hunter saw the resemblance. The crazy eyes, the long, thin face. The yellow teeth. Though dressed in Old West gear, this was, unmistakably, the good doctor from Adventure Land.
Hunter laughed out loud. "Well, I guess it makes sense now," he said drunkenly. "You were the only one who evaded my questions when I asked about your whereabouts. No one else had a problem with answering me. Just you. I should have known. I should have figured it out sooner."
Zoloff frowned mightily.
"There are many things we both should have figured out sooner," he said.
With that, Hunter saw two other figures move out from behind the shadows.
They were both holding ray guns.
"Damn…" Hunter cursed.
They were Solar Guards. SSG…
Zoloff just shrugged sadly. "I'm sorry," he said. "They were looking for me, too, and they just did beat you to it."
Minutes later, Hunter and Zoloff were behind bars.
Real bars, this time. In fact, they were electron steel bars, impossible to bend by hand alone.
The two SSG soldiers had hauled them out of the Red Star Saloon via a back door and marched them down a very dusty street to the amusement of the townsfolk who inhabited this very strange place. Hunter got only a brief glimpse of his new surroundings: a couple blocks of old wooden buildings, a general store, a bank, an apothecary, a barber shop. With wooden sidewalks everywhere. There were even tumbleweeds blowing around. The sky above them, oddly enough, was bright orange. There was no sun to be seen.
The sheriff's office was empty when they were brought in. The SSG troopers wordlessly locked them in the jail cell, then strengthened its previously rubber bars with the electron-steel reinforcements. Then the SSG men hung up the keys next to a rifle rack, took their seats behind the sheriff's desk, and promptly went to sleep.
Hunter and Zoloff collapsed to the floor of the six-by-six cell. They were very much bummed out.
"I'm living down here for a few thousand years," Zoloff said wearily. "No one bothers me, and I don't bother anyone. Then, all of a sudden, I'm the most wanted person in the cosmos."
Hunter had his head resting on his knees. He was suddenly very, very tired. "I know the feeling," he moaned.
He quickly told Zoloff who he was and who sent him. "And, if it makes you feel any better," Hunter concluded his introduction, "I was looking for you for the same reason as those two."
"The Big Generator thing," Zoloff said knowingly. "And how they want to alter it…"
"They told you?"
"They did," Zoloff replied. "I heard the whole story, in fact. From the Empress to the Great Flash to the blackout and the extent of the damage. And of course, their desire to change around the Big Generator's power flows. They might not look it now, but those two over there are rather verbose."
Hunter studied the man next to him for a moment. He was definitely the same Zoloff he'd met in Adventure Land. But he was more genuine now. Like an actor who was no longer in his role, the veneer had been dropped. Strangely, though, he was still a very sympathetic character.
"They didn't mind telling you all this?" he asked Zoloff. "I mean, all those things about the BG are highly top secret. No more than a few dozen people in the entire Galaxy have a clue that any of this is even going on."
Zoloff shrugged sadly. "It makes no difference to them what I know," he said, indicating the two sleeping guards again. "Because they've got plans for me, you see. By telling me all, they know I won't be able to help myself from thinking about how to counteract their designs for the Big Generator. All they have to do is wait a little bit, let my subconscious cook on it a while. Then they will torture me to get the information they seek, and then give me a brain wipe to get anything they missed. After that, they'll put me to death. And though I've been around longer than Methuselah, I have a feeling they'll find a way to pull it off. I mean, I was told I could live forever, but I'm not so sure that applies if I am somehow torn limb from limb or thrown into a star."
"So, it's true then?" Hunter asked him. "That you could come up with a way to counter whatever they do to the Big Generator?"
Hunter saw the twinkle return to Zoloff's eye. Suddenly he was just like the good doctor back in Adventure Land.
"Of course!" he said with not an ounce of false modesty. "In fact, as soon as they mentioned it, I had the solution."
"Really? What is it?"
Zoloff checked to see if the two SSG were still asleep. They seemed to be. He smiled — and then started to whistle. One long tone. Very melodic, haunting even, if a little sad.
"And that is?" Hunter asked.
Zoloff smiled again. "C major diminished," he replied, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "And that's the secret."
"You're kidding…"
"At a time like this?" Zoloff scolded him gently. "Hardly."
"But… just whistling? That's the secret?"
Zoloff nodded with great authority, then slid over a little closer to Hunter. "Look — no one really knows how the Big Generator works," he said. "But I do know it has something to do with vibrations. And sound waves are vibrations. And therefore, a certain musical note is the key to the BG's power. I know this because of my extensive studies in super electricity. I also happen to know that by simply using this key, anyone can readjust whatever the SSG does to the BG."
He whistled it again. "C major diminished…"
Hunter just stared back at him. Was this a joke? Could it really be as simple as that?
"So are you saying that if the SSG gets control of the BG, you'd want everyone in the Galaxy to whistle that note?" he asked Zoloff.
"Precisely!" he declared. "Actually, if I understand the situation correctly, you have this one military called the Space Forces. And another — these devils, the Solar Guards?"
"Right…"
"And the SF is less despicable than the SG?"
"Right again…"
"Then what we can do is provide a simple device to all SF warships, something that will automatically retime the power coming out of the BG and allow them to tap into it, no matter what the Solar Guards do to it.
"Now, that will take care of the military side of the situation. Once that's settled, we let everyone in the Milky Way know the tone. If the BG starts to change, or if there is another blackout, all we have to do is all rise up in song — beautiful song! — and that will send the BG's power everyone's way again and remedy the situation. It's an ironic way to overcome the plans of these dastardly people, don't you think?"