Lucy couldn't believe what she'd just witnessed. She looked at the two buttons again through her translator-specs. 'What, for crying out loud, did you press the button that says: "Press To Arm" for?' she exclaimed,

The Joumalist was hopping round the Engine Room kicking himself.

'I didn't know it was a Dormillion bomb!'

'What difference does it make? A bomb's a bomb!'

'I can't explain!'

'I need to know!' insisted Lucy.

'No you don't!'

He was perfectly right Lucy, herself; wondered why she was pressing this point. She grabbed hold of The Journalist's shoulders and shook him.

'Look, you stupid berk! You've just done something really stupid and I have a right to know why!'

'All right!' The Journalist seemed to calm down. 'It's just that the Dormillion for "Press To Arm" is very similar to the Blerontin for 'Please Press Dog". It was just a simple mis-translation!' he groaned. 'I was wondering what the dog had to do with it!'

'Great!' said Lucy. 'So now we really are up shit-creek without a bucket!'

'Nine hundred and ninety-three... nine hundred and ninety-two... nine hundred and ninety-one' continued the bomb.

'WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?!' she yelled.

'We're going to keep calm,' said The Journalist.

'Good thinking, The!' snorted Lucy, summoning up her not inconsiderable reserves of sarcasm. 'You clearly have a mind the size of Arnold Schwarzenegger's humeral ligament! We're running out of oxygen. The temperature's rapidly becoming suitable for an Arctic Winter on Pluto! You've just activated what was otherwise a harmless bomb and now you have the nerve to tell me to stay calm!'