The Number of the Beast

XXIV

Captains aren't supposed to cry.

Hilda:

I ordered an early dinner by starting it when Zebbie and Deety went down to bathe. I had ready a public reason but my motive was personal: I didn't want a pillow talk with Jacob.

Annoyed at him? At me! I had had a perfect chance to keep my lip zipped- and muffed it! Was I boasting? Or confessing? Or trying to hurt Jacob? (Oh, no!-can the id be that idiotic!)

Don't rationalize it, Sharpie! Had not your husband been kind, tolerant, and far more sophisticated than you ever dreamed, you would be in trouble.

When dinner was over, Zebbie said lazily, "I'll do the dishes in the morning."

I said, "I prefer that they be done tonight, please."

Zebbie sat up and looked at me. His thoughts were coming through so strongly that I was getting them as words. I never allow myself to be close with a person whose thoughts I can't sense at all; I distrust a blank wall. But now I could "hear" such names as "Queeg" and "Bligh" and "Vanderdecken" and "Ahab"-and suddenly Captain Ahab was harpooning the White Whale and I was the whale!

Zebbie bounced to his feet with a grin that made me uneasy. "Sure thing, Cap'n! Deety, grab a rifle and hold it on me to make sure I get 'em clean."

I cut in quickly, "I'm sorry, Chief Pilot, but I need the Astrogator. Jacob is your assistant."

When they were gone, Deety said, "Will my shotgun do? I don't think the cardboard eater comes out in daylight."

"Bring the guns inside; we're going to close the doors."

I waited until we were settled. "Deety, will you make me a copy of your new programs before our men come back?"

"If they take time to wash them properly. Men and dishes-you know."

"I hope they stall-"

"-and get over their mad," Deety finished.

"That, too. But I intend to write a sequential program and I want you to check me. After you make that copy."

They did stay down-"man talk," no doubt. Men need us but can just barely stand us; every now and then they have to discuss our faults. I think that is why they shut us out.

Deety made a copy while I wrote what I planned to do. Deety looked it over, corrected some wording. Looked it over again-and said nothing pointedly.

"Deety, can you handle your father's lab camera?"

"Certainly."

"Will you check its load and shoot when I ask for it?"

"Of course."

"If I goof on an order, correct me at once."

"You don't intend to hand this to Zebadiah to carry out?"

"No. I prefer that you not mention that I prepared it ahead of time. Deety, the Chief Pilot assured me that any of us could command in aerospace. I am about to make a test run. The Chief Pilot is in a position to override. If he does, I shan't fight it; I have said all along that he should be captain."

We had time to dig out that shirt with the white flowers. Deety's sailor pants were long; we turned up cuffs. The lacing at the back made them small enough in the waist. She gave me a blue belt to pull in the shirt, which I wore outside-then she added a blue hair ribbon.

"Captain Auntie, you look good. Better than I will in this jump suit I am reluctantly pulling on. Gosh, I'm glad Zebadiah isn't square about skin!"

"He was when I adopted him. Fetched swim briefs the first time I invited him over to swim. But I was firm. There they come! Open the doors."

They appeared to be over their mad. Zebbie looked at me and said, "How fancy! Are we going to church?"-and my husband added, "You look pretty, my dear."

"Thank you, sir. All hands, prepare for space. Secure loose gear. Lock firearms. Anyone requiring a bush stop say so. Dress for space. Before manning car, take a turn around the car, searching for gear on the ground."

"What is this?" demanded Zebbie.

"Prepare for space. Move!"

He hesitated a split second. "Aye aye, Captain."

In two minutes and thirteen seconds (I checked Gay's clock) I was squeezing past my husband into the starboard rear seat. I said, "In reporting, include status of firearms. Astrogator."

"Belted down. Bulkhead door dogged. Shotgun loaded and locked. I slid it under the sleeping bag."

"Fléchette gun?"

"Wups! In my purse. Loaded and locked. Purse clipped to my seat, outboard."

"Copilot."

"Belt fastened. Door locked, seal checked. Continua device ready. Rifle loaded and locked, secure under sleeping bag. I'm wearing my pistol loaded and locked."

"Chief Pilot."

"Belt fastened, door locked, seal checked. Rifle loaded, locked, under sleeping bag. Wearing revolver, loaded and locked. No loose gear. Water tanks topped off. Load trimmed. Two reserve power packs, two zeroed. Juice zero point seven-two capacity. Wings spread full. Wheels down, unlocked to retract. All systems go. Ready."

"Chief Pilot, after first maneuver, execute vertical dive fastest without power and without retracting wheels. Relock wheel-retracting gear. Leave wings spread max."

"Wheel retractors locked. After first maneuver fastest, no-power vertical dive, wings full subsonic, wheels down."

I glanced at Deety; she held up the camera and mouthed, "Ready."

"Gay Home!"

In Arizona it was shortly before sunset, as Deety had predicted. My husband repressed a gasp. I snapped, "Copilot, report H-above-G."

"Uh... two klicks minus, falling." Zebbie had bite now; the horizon ahead tilted slowly up, then faster. As we leaned over, Deety stretched high, catlike, to shoot between our pilots. We steadied with Snug Harbor dead ahead-a crater! I felt a burst of anger, a wish to kill!

"Picture!"

"Gay B'gout!"

Instead of being stationary at "Touchdown" we were in free fall on the night side of some planet. I cçuld see stars, with blackness below the "horizon"-if horizon it were. Deety said, "Looks like the Russians left something on our parking space."

"Perhaps. Jacob, H-above-G, please."

"Under ten klicks, decreasing slowly."

"So far, so good. But we aren't sure that we have the right planet and universe."

"Captain, that's Antares ahead."

"Thanks, Zebbie. I assume that at least we are in one of the analogs, of our native universe. Deety, can you get from Gay the acceleration and check it against Mars-ten?"

"Bout four ways, Cap'n."

"Go ahead."

"Gay Deceiver."

"Hi, Deety!"

"Hi, Gay. H-above-G, closing rate running, solve first differential, report answer."

Instantly Gay answered, "Three-seven-six centimeters per second squared."

"You're a smart girl, Gay."

So it was either Mars-ten or an unreasonable facsimile. "Gay B'gout!"

We were stationary, with what we had come to feel as "proper weight." Deety said, "Maybe an animal wandered across our spot. How about lights, Captain? This snapshot ought to be colors by now."

"Not yet. Chief Pilot, when I alert the autopilot by G, A, Y, please switch on forward landing lights."

"Roger Wilco."

"Gay-"

Blinding light-men in its path were blinded, not us. "Bounce! Kill the light, Zebbie. The Little Father left sentries in case we came back-and we did."

"Captain Auntie, may I have cabin light now?"

"Please be patient, dear. I saw two men. Jacob?"

"Three men, dear... dear Captain. Russian soldiers in uniform. Weapons, but no details."

"Deety?"

"Looked like bazookas."

"Chief Pilot?"

"Bazookas. A good thing you were on the bounce with Bounce, Skipper. Gay can take a lot... but a bazooka would make her unhappy." He added, "Speed saved me yesterday. Deety, let that be a lesson: Never lose your temper."

"Look who's talking!"

"I quit being C.O., didn't I? Cap'n Sharpie doesn't do foolish stunts. If I were skipper, we would chase 'em all over that sea bottom. Never be in one place long enough for them to aim and they would think there were thirty of us. If Colonel Snotsky is there-I think he's afraid to go home-"

We were over Arizona. I snapped, "Gay Termite!"

-and were parked by our stream. Zebbie said, "What the devil? Who did that?"

"You did, Zebadiah," Deety answered. Me? I did no such thing. I was-" "Silence!" (That was I, Captain Bligh.) I went on, "Gay Deceiver, go to sleep. Over." "Sleepy time, Hilda. Roger and out."

"Chief Pilot, is there a way to shut off the autopilot so completely that she cannot possibly be activated by voice?"

"Oh, certainly." Zebbie reached up, threw a switch.

"Thanks, Zebbie. Deety, your new escape programs are swell... but I missed how that happened. But first- Did anyone else see our giant termite?"

"Huh?"-"I did."-"Where?"

I said, "I was looking out to starboard as we transited. The creature was

feeding on packing debris-and took off uphill at high speed. Looked like a very big, fat, white dog with too many legs. Six, I think."

"Six," agreed my husband. "Put me in mind of a polar bear. Hilda, I think it is carnivorous."

"We are not going to find out. Deety, tell Zebbie-all of us-what happened." Deety shrugged. "Zebadiah said 'bounce' twice when he should not have, but Gay wasn't triggered. Then he said 'Gay can take a lot-' and she was triggered. More chitchat and Zebadiah said '-I think he's afraid to go home-' That did it. Our smart girl hears what she has been taught. She heard: 'Gay Home' and that is the short form that used to be: 'Gay Deceiver Take Us Home."

Zebbie shook his head. "A gun should never be that hair-trigger."

"Chief Pilot, yesterday you used the first of these clipped programs to avoid a bullet in your face. First 'Gay'-then after more words-'bounce!' It saved you."

"But-"

"I'm not through. Astrogator, study the escape programs. Search for possibility of danger if triggered accidentally. Zebbie, escape programs can't be compared to a hair trigger on a gun; they are to escape, not to kill."

"Captain Auntie, I've spent all day making certain that programs can't put us out of the frying pan into the fire. That's why I killed 'countermarch.' The nearest thing to danger is the 'Home' program because our home planet is unfriendly." Deety sounded sad. "I hate to cut our last link with home."

"It needn't be cut," I said. "Just stretched. Put it back into long form and add 'Execute."

Deety answered, "Captain, I will do as you say. But we might be a billion klicks from nowhere and hit by a meteor. If anyone can gasp, 'GayHome,' then we are two klicks over our cabin site in air, not vacuum. Even if we've passed out, Gay won't crash us; she's built not to. If I'm gasping my last, I don't want to have to say, 'Gay Deceiver, take us home. Execute.' That's ten syllables against two... with air whooshing out."

I said, "That settles it. The 'Gay Home' program stands unless my successor changes it."

"You're not talking to me, Captain Sharpie darling-I mean, Captain Hilda-because I'm not your successor. But Deety convinced me. I will not admit that those vermin have run me permanently off my own planet. At least I can return to it to die."

"Son, let's not speak of dying. We are going to stay alive and raise kids and enjoy it."

"That's my Pop! Say, doesn't anybody want to see this picture?"

We made it a rest stop, worrying more about giant termites than about bushes... and Jacob found a can opener. The can opener. I put a stop to an attempt to fix the blame. Advice to all explorers: Do not roam the universes without a spare can opener.

Then it was "Prepare for lift!" and a new program. "Chief Pilot, switch on

autopilot. Gay Deceiver. Explore. True bearing two-six-five. Unit jump five minima. Use bingo stop continue. End program short of sunrise line. Ground. Acknowledge by paraphrase."

"Explore west five degrees south fifty-klick units. Two-second check each jump. Ground myself no power Greenwich time oh-three-seventeen."

"Deety, is that time right?"

"For that program."

"Gay Deceiver. Program revision. Cancel grounding. From program coded 'A Tramp Abroad' display locus. Display Bingoes."

She displayed Mars at once, but gibbous. I scrawled a note to Deety: "How do I rotate to show day side only?"

Dear Deety! She wrote her answer. Passed it over-I doubt that our men saw it: "Program revision. Display locus real-time day side."

Gay accommodated. It took several steps to define new locus as sunset line (right edge - east) to sunrise line (left edge - west), and between 50°N and 50°S (some Russian area had been close to 45°S, so I widened the search)-then let

the locus move with the terminators. (Gay can "see" in the dark but I can't.) I told her to end "Explore" at Greenwich oh-three-seventeen and start "A Tramp Abroad," continue until directed otherwise, and had Gay repeat back in her phrasing.

I touched Zebbie's shoulder, pointed to the switch that cut out Gay's ears, drew a finger across my throat. He nodded and shut her out. I said, "Questions, gentlemen? Deety?"

"I do, Captain," said our Chief Pilot. "Do you plan on sleeping tonight?"

"Certainly, Zebbie. An ideal sleeping spot would be one far from the Russians but close to the present sunset line. Or did you want to work all night?"

"If you wish. I noticed that you gave Gay a program that could keep her going for days or weeks-and that you had reduced H-above-G to six klicks. Breathable air. By rotating duties, with one or two always stretched out aft, we can stay up a week, easily, and still give Jake's ankles a break."

"I can skip a night's sleep," said Deety. "Captain Auntie honey, with enough random samples and a defined locus, sampling soon approaches a grid a fly couldn't get through. Do you want the formula?"

"Heavens, no! As long as it works."

"It works. Let's make a long run, get a big sampling. But I'd like to add something. Let's parallel the display onto a sidelooker screen, and light every vertex-while the main display shows Bingoes. You'll see how tight a screen you're building."

"Sharpie, don't let her do it!" Zebbie added, "Scuse, please! Captain, the Astrogator is correct on software but I know more about this hardware. You can crowd a computer into a nervous breakdown. I have safeguards around Smart Girl; if I give her too much to do, she tells me to go to hell. But she likes Deety. Like a willing horse, she'll try hard for Deety even when it's too much."

Deety said soberly, "Captain, I gave you bad advice."

Her husband said, "Don't be so humble, Deety. You're smarter than I am

and we all know it. But we are dependent on Smart Girl and can't let her break down. Captain, I don't know how much strain the time-space twister puts on her but she has unnecessary programs. At the Captain's convenience, I would like to review everything in her perms and wipe those we can do without."

"My very early convenience, sir. Is the schedule okay?"

"Oh, sure. Just don't add that side display."

"Thank you, Chief Pilot. Anyone else? Copilot?"

"My dear... my dear Captain, is there some reason to find a spot near the sunset line? If you intend to work all night?"

"Oh! But, Jacob, I do not plan to work all night. It is now about twenty hundred by our personal circadians, as established by when we got up. I think we can search for three to four hours. I hope that we can find a spot to sleep near the sunset line, scout it in daylight, let Gay land herself on it for her perms-then return to it in the dark when we get tired"

"I see, in part. My dear, unless I misunderstood you, you are heading west. But you said that you wanted to find us a place to sleep near the presert sunset line. East. Or did I misunderstood you?"

"It's very simply explained, Jacob."

"Yes, dear Captain?"

"I made a horrible mistake in navigation."

"Chief Pilot, did you spot it?"

"Yup. Yes, Captain."

"Why didn't you speak up?"

"Not my business, Ma'am. Nothing you planned to do was any danger."

"Zebbie, I'm not sure whether to thank you for keeping quiet, or to complain because you did. Deety, you spotted the mistake, I am certain. You are supposed to advise me."

"Captain, I'm supposed to speak up to stop a bad mistake. This was not. I wasn't certain that it was a mistake until you told on yourself. But you spotted the mistake when Gay predicted the time to end the 'Explore' program, then you corrected it by telling her to shift to 'A Tramp Abroad.' So there was never a reason to advise you."

I let out a sigh. "You're covering for me and I love you all and I'm no good as captain. I've served as many hours as Zebbie and we are on the ground, so now it's time to elect someone who can do it right. You, Zebbie."

"Not me. Jake and Deety must each do a stint before I'd admit that it might be my turn."

"Captain-"

"Deety, I'm not captain; I resigned!"

"No, Aunt Hilda, you didn't actually do it. It is my duty to advise you when you seem about to make a bad mistake. You made a minor mistake and corrected it. In my business we call that 'debugging'-and spend more time on it than we do on writing programs. Because everybody makes mistakes."

Jane's little girl managed to sound the way Jane used to. I resolved to

listen-because all too often I hadn't listened to Jane. "Captain Auntie, if you were resigning because of the way your crew treated you-as Zebadiah did- I wouldn't say a word. But that's not your reason. Or is it?"

"What? Oh, no! You've all helped-you've been angels. Uh, well, mostly."

"Angels'-hummph! I can't use the correct words; I'd shock our men. Aunt Hilda, I gave you far worse lip than I ever gave Zebadiah. You slapped me down hard-and I've been your strongest supporter ever since. Zebadiah, what you did was worse-"

"I know."

"-but you admitted that you were wrong. Nevertheless you've been chewing the bit. Demanding explanations. Zebadiah, the captain of a ship doesn't have to explain why she gives an order. Or does she?"

"Of course not. Oh, a captain sometimes does explain. But she shouldn't do it often or the crew will start thinking they are entitled to explanations. In a crunch this can kill you. Waste that split second." Zebbie brooded. "Captain says 'Frog,' you hop. Couple of times I failed to hop. Captain, I'm sorry."

"Zebbie, we get along all right."

He reached back and patted my knee. "Pretty well in the past. Better from now on."

My darling Jacob said worriedly, "I'm afraid I have been remiss, too."

I was about to reassure him when Deety cut in: "Remiss'! Pop, you're the worst of all! If I had been your wife, I would have tossed you back and rebaited my hook. 'Farce' is worse than mutinous; it's insulting. Be glad Jane didn't hear you!"

"I know, I know!"

I touched Deety's arm and whispered, "That's enough, dear."

Zebbie said soberly, "Captain, as I analyze it, you made a mistake in sign. Every navigator makes mistakes-and has some routine by which to check his work. If you're going to get upset because recheck shows that you wrote down 'plus' when the declination is 'south,' you're going to have ulcers. You're just under strain from being C.O. We've all made the strain worse. But we want to do better. I'd hate to have you resign over a minor error... when we caused your upset. I hope you'll give us another chance."

Captains aren't supposed to cry. I blinked 'em back, got my voice under control, and said, "All hands! Still ready for lift? Report."

"Aye, Captain!"-"Affirmative!"-"Yes, my dear Hilda."

"Zebbie, switch on Gay's ears." He did.

"Execute!"-Termite Creek was gone and we were fifty klicks west and a touch south. Pretty and green but no Bingo. It would take us about seven minutes to overtake the Sun and approach sunrise line, plus any holds we made. Then I would go east to the sunset line in nothing flat (have Zebbie and Jacob do it); then bounce & glide, bounce & glide, while looking for a place to sleep in a spot suitable for Gay to try her new unpowered autogrounding program-in daylight with the hottest pilot in two worlds ready to override any error.

If Gay could do this, we would be almost independent of juice-and have

a new "bug-out" sanctuary each time she landed herself. Power packs-Zebbie had a hand-cranked D.C. generator-but heavy work for husky men for endless hours. (40 hrs from zero to full charge; you see why Zebbie would rather buy fresh charges.)

We had been skipping along nearly three minutes, over four thousand klicks, before spotting a Bingo (by Zebbie). I called a "Hold" and added, "Where, Zebbie?"

He nosed us down. Farm buildings and cultivated fields-a happy contrast to the terrain-barren, green, flat, rugged-all lacking any sign of humans, in the stops we had made. "Astrogator, record time. Continue."

Then over three minutes with no Bingoes- At elapsed time 6m4s Jacob called out, "Bingo! A town."

"Hold! Onion towers?"

"I think not, dear. I see a flag-dare we go nearer?"

"Yes! But anyone use a scram at will. Jacob, may I have the binoculars, please?"

The Stars and Stripes are engraved on my heart, but in the next moments the Cross of Saint Andrew and the Cross of Saint George were added. It was an ensign with a blue field and some white shapes-three half moons in three sizes.

"Gay Deceiver."

"I'm all ears, Hilda."

"Move current program to standby."

"Roger Wilco Done."

"Gay Bounce. Zebbie, let's sweep this area for a bigger settlement."

Zebbie placed a locus around the town, radius five hundred klicks, and started "A Tramp Abroad" with vertex time cut to one second. Thirty-one minutes later we had a city. I guessed it at a hundred thousand plus.

"Captain," Zebbie said, "may I suggest that we bounce and try to raise them by radio? This place is big enough for A.A. guns or missiles-"

"Gay Bounce!"

"-and we know that their Slavic neighbors have aircraft."

"Is your guardian angel warning you?"

"Well... 'tain't polite to ground without clearance; such rudeness can make one suddenly dead."

"Gay Bounce, Gay Bounce. Are we out of reach of missiles?"

"Captain, British and Russians of this universe are ahead of us in spaceships or they wouldn't be here. That requires us to assume that their missiles and lasers and X-weapons are better than ours."

"What's an 'X-weapon'? And what do you advise?"

"I advise evasive tactics. An X-weapon is a 'Nobody-Knows."

"Evasive tactics, your choice. I assume you won't waste juice."

"No juice. Jake, gallop in all directions. Up, down, and sideways. Don't wait for 'Execute'; jump as fast as you can. That's it! Keep moving!"

"Captain Auntie, may I suggest an easier way?"

"Sneak un. Deetv."

"Zebadiah, how big is that city? Kilometers."

"That's indefinite. Oh, call it eight klicks in diameter."

"You've got that one-second 'Tramp' program on hold. Change locus. Center on that biggest building, make the radius six klicks. Then start program and Pop can rest."

"Uh....eety, I'm stupid. Six klicks radius, ten klicks is a minimum- A bit tight?"

"Meant to be. Shall I draw a picture?"

"Maybe you'd better."

(Deety had defined an annulus two kilometers wide, outer radius six, inner radius four. We would "circle" the city six klicks above ground, random jumps, sixty per minute. I doubted that even robot weapons could find us, range us, hit us, in one second.)

Deety loosened her belt, slithered forward, and sketched. Suddenly Zebbie said, "Gotcha! Deety, you're a smart girl."

"Boss, I'll bet you tell that to all the girls."

"Nope, just smart ones. Gay Deceiver!"

"Less noise, please."

"Program revision. A Tramp Abroad. Locus a circle radius six klicks. Center defined by next Bingo. Acknowledge paraphrase."

"Revised program A Tramp Abroad. Circle twelve klicks diameter center next real-time Bingo."

"Jake, put us over that big building downtown. If necessary, make several tries but don't hang around. Once I like the position I'll say the magic word, then scram."

"Aye aye, Chief."

Jacob made a dozen jumps before Zebbie said, "Bingo Gay Bounce" and a light appeared on the display. He started the program and told Gay to increase scale; the light spread out into a circle with a lighted dot in the center. "Captain, watch this. I've told Gay that every stop is a Bingo. You may be surprised."

"Thanks, Zebbie." The circle was becoming freckled inside its perimeter. With no feeling of motion, the scene flicked every second. It was mid-morning; each scene was sharp. That big building would be dead ahead-blink your eye and you're staring at fields-then again at the city but with that building off to starboard. It put me in mind of holovideo tape spliced to create confusion.

Zebbie had on his phones and was ignoring everything else. Jacob was watching the flickering scenery, as was I, as was Deety-when Jacob suddenly turned his head, said, "Deety-please-the-Bo-" and clapped his hand over his mouth.

I said, "Two Bonines, Deety-quickly!"

Deety was reaching for them. "You, too, Auntie Cap'n?"

"It's this flickering." I gave one to Jacob, made certain that he saw me take one. I had not been motion-sick since I had been made Captain. But any time my husband must take one, I will keep him company.

Today I should have taken one as soon as I spotted that British flag; Bonine

tranquilizes the nerves as well as the tummy....nd soon I must act as- ambassador? Something of the sort; I intended to go straight to the top. Dealing with underlings is frustrating. In college I would not have lasted almost four years had it been up to the dean of women. But I always managed to take it over her head to the president; the top boss can bend the rules.

(But my senior year the president was female and as tough a bitch as I am. She listened to my best Clarence-Darrow defense, congratulated me, told me I should have studied law, then said, "Go pack. I want you off campus by noon.")

Zebbie pushed the phone off his right ear. "Captain, I've got this loud enough to put on the horn. Want to talk to them?"

"No. I've never grounded outside the States. You know how, you do it. But, Chief Pilot-"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"And Copilot and Astrogator. Stick to the truth at all times. But do not unnecessarily give information. Answer questions uninformatively-but truthfully. If pressed, tell them, 'See the Captain."

"My dear," Jacob said worriedly, "I've been meaning to speak about this. Zeb has had diplomatic experience. Wouldn't it be wise for us to place him in charge on the ground? Please understand, I'm not criticizing your performance as captain. But with his experience and in view of the fact that our principal purpose is to obtain certain things for his car-"

"Gay Bounce Gay Bounce Gay Bounce! Astrogator."

"Yes, Captain."

"Place us in a parking orbit. Soonest."

"Aye aye, Ma'am! Copilot, don't touch the verniers. Chief Pilot, check that the car is level. Gay Deceiver."

"On deck, Deety."

"Program. L axis add speed vector three point six klicks per second. Paraphrase acknowledge."

"Increase forward speed three and six tenths kilometers per second."

"Chief Pilot?"

"Level."

"Execute." Deety glanced at the board. "Gay Deceiver, H-above-G will soon stop decreasing, then increase very slowly. In about fifty minutes it will maximize. Program. When H-above-G is maximum, alert me."

"Roger Wilco."

"If-when one hundred klicks H-above-G, alert me."

"Roger Wilco."

"If-when air drag exceeds zero, alert me."

"Roger Wilco."

"Remain in piloting mode. Ignore voices including program code words until you are called by your full name. Acknowledge by reporting your full name."

"Gay Deceiver," answered Gay Deceiver.

"Is that okay, Captain? Smart Girl can't hear the short-form programs now,

until she hears her full name first. Then you would still have to say 'Gay' to alert her, and 'Home' or whatever to scram. But there should be loads of time, as she'll tell me if anything starts to go wrong. You heard her."

"That's fine, Astrogator."

"I turned her ears off because there may be discussion in which you might not want to have to be careful to use code words... but still be able to put her ears back fast if you need them. Faster than the switch and besides the switch can be reached only from the left front seat."

Deety had a touch of nervous chattering; I understood the reasons for each step. And I understood why she was chattering.

"Well done. Thank you. Remain at the conn. Chief Pilot, Copilot, the Secondin-Command has the conn. I am going aft and do not wish to be disturbed." I lowered my voice, spoke directly to Deety. "You are free to call me. You only."

"Aye aye, Captain," Deety acknowledged quietly. "I must remind you: air for four hours only."

"If I fall asleep, call me in three hours." I kissed her quickly, floated out of my chair and started to undog the bulkhead door-got nowhere; Deety had to help me. Deety flipped a light switch for me. She closed me in and dogged one dog.

I got a blanket out of the cradle, took off my clothes, tried to wrap myself in the blanket. It kept slithering away.

No seat belts- But the web straps used to make a bedroll of Zebbie's sleeping bag were attached through loops and tucked under thingammies. Soon I had a belt across my waist and the blanket around me.

Being a runt, the only way I can fight is with words. But best for me is to walk away. Fight with Jacob? I was so angry I wanted to slap him! But I never slap anyone; a woman who takes advantage of her size and sex to slap a man is herself no gentleman. So I walked away-got out of there before I said something that would tear it-lose me my lovable, cuddly, thoughtful-and sometimes unbearable!-husband.

I wept in my pillow-no pillow and no Kleenex. After a while I slept.