The Number of the Beast

XXIX

"-we place no faith in princes."

Deety:

We had a busy night. I had Gay display bingo dots for every stop we made- then circles around any that were supply dumps.

There were indeed supply dumps!

I spent the whole trip thinking: Where would I be if I were a supply dump? Where would 'thopters have to land? Where could they get more water? Squeaky, Hilda, Pop, Zebadiah-and possibly Gay-were thinking the same thing.

We got back at half after one, the job done. The Hillbilly turned the results over to Squeaky and we went to bed.

Next morning at eleven our "roadable" arrived-without Squeaky. He sent an apologetic note saying that Lieutenant Bean knew what we expected and would add anything we asked for. -

Captain Auntie had not taken breakfast in bed. I woke about nine local, found her at work-packing her dress clothes and Pop's back into plastic pillow covers, then into a borrowed portmanteau. Our fresh laundry, given to us by the night maid on our return, was in another piece of borrowed luggage.

The Hillbilly was on her knees in our drawing room. She looked up, smiled and said, "Good morning. Better slide into your jump suit, dear; maids come in and out rather casually."

"Doesn't bother me, I've been caught twice already-"

"But it bothers them. Not kind, dear, with servants. Especially with involuntary servants. They'll be in to load the sideboard any moment. Will you fetch yours and Zebbie's dress clothes here? I'll pack for you."

"I'll pack 'em, thanks. I was thinking about sliding back into bed with a nice warm man but your mention of food changed my mind. Hillbilly, what's the rush?"

"Deety, I'm carrying out my own orders. When I brush my teeth after breakfast, the toothbrush goes into my purse. As for the rush, our husbands will wake soon. I have found that it is more practical to present a man with a fait accompli than a discussion."

"I hear you three times, doll baby. When they get up, they'll want to eat. When our roadable shows up, they'll be sitting over second cups of coffee. Then they'll say, 'We'll do it when we come back. Mustn't keep the Brigadier waiting.' Okay, I'll grab our gear and we'll sneak it out before they wake. I'll carry the heavy ones."

"We are not permitted to carry anything, Deety. But the place is swarming with maids. You sound much married."

"Five years' practice on Pop. But, Hillbilly, even Pop is easy to handle if you think ahead."

"I'm learning. Deety, what shall we do about the maids?"

"Huh?"

"In the days when servants were common, it was polite for house guests to tip servants who served them personally. But how, Deety? I have two twentyfive-newdollar bills in the lining of my purse. Waste paper."

"Pop and Zebadiah have gold. I know exactly because it was mass enough that I had to figure it into the loading, mass and moment arm. Here's a giggle. These misers we married had each squirreled away the same weight of gold to four significant figures. So maids are no problem if you know how much to tip-I don't. We'll be buying local money today to pay for a number of things."

"Leftenant" Bean-or "Brian"-is a delightful fuzzy puppy and a volunteer in order to have served "Beyond the Sky." He managed to call me "Deety" and Zebadiah "Zeb" when invited, but he could not bring himself to shift from "Captain Burroughs" to "Hilda"-"Captain Hilda" was as far as he would go, and Pop was "Professor."

He was pleased that we liked his "roadable." You wouldn't believe it! A large, wooden flatbed wagon with an upright steam engine in back; a trailer with cordwood; a sailing-ship's wheel in front of the engine; this controlled the front wheels by ropes that ran underneath. Midway was a luggage pen, then in front were four benches, for twelve to sixteen people.

With a crew of five!

Engine driver, fireman, conductor, and two steersmen- The conductor sat on a high perch braced to the pen and told the others what to do and occasionally rang a bell or blew a whistle. The bell told other traffic to get out of the way; the whistle warned that the vehicle was about to start or stop. There was much traffic but few "roadables"-most common were pedalled tricycles, for passengers and freight. Large versions had as many as a dozen men pedalling at once.

"I daresay you know," said Brian, "that we have not been able to raise

horses. We haven't given up-we will develop a breed that will prosper here. But once we have horses, this will, I venture to predict, become a proper colony-and not just a place to send reformable evildoers and to obtain raw pharmaceuticals."

"Pharmaceuticals?"

"Oh, definitely! The thing that makes the colony self-supporting. I daresay the descendants of these convicts will be wealthy. I will show you the fields- all in the weed-a cant word for Cannabis Magnifica Martia-except acreage for food crops. Brigadier Hird-Jones suggested Norfolk Plantation." He smiled. "Shall we?"

"Just a moment," Aunt Hilda said. "If I understood the Brigadier's note, we can vary the program?"

"Captain Hilda, the carriage and I are at your disposal as long as you wish. My orders and my pleasure."

"Brian, I have clothing being made up. I was told that sewing would continue through the night. Where should we go to inquire?"

"Here and now. I fancy I saw a package being delivered while we've been chatting; it could be yours. It would go to the chief housekeeper, who would have it placed in your digs-the Princess Suite, is it not?"

"Yes. Brian, I'll slip upstairs and see."

"Please, no!" Brian made a small gesture; a private soldier appeared out of nowhere. "Smathers, my greetings to Mrs. Digby. Has a package arrived for Captain Burroughs?"

"Sir!"

"Hold it! Brian, if it has arrived, I want it fetched here."

I could see the look in Brian's eye that Pop gets just before he starts demanding explanations for female "unreasonable" behavior. But Brian simply added, "If the package has arrived, tell Mrs. Digby that it must be delivered here at once. Double time, so to speak."

"Sir!" The private stomped an about-face and broke into a run. Hilda said, "Thank you, Brian. If I place it in our craft, it is one less detail to remember. Your kindness eases my mind."

"A pleasure, Captain Hilda."

"Hilda, that clothing is not yet paid for."

"Oh, dear! You are right, Jacob. Leftenant, where does one exchange gold for local money? Do you know the rate of exchange? In grams?"

"Or in Troy ounces," I added.

Brian behaved as if he had not heard us. He turned toward his "roadable." "Parkins! Take a turn around the circle! When you return, I want that steam up high. So that we won't creep in starting."

"Roight, sir." The wagon moved off, at a headlong slow walk.

When no one else was in earshot Brian said quietly, "I missed what you Were saying because of engine noise. But let me mention in passing that Possession of gold by individuals is not permitted so I-am-happy-to-learn-thatYOu-have..none," he said, not letting himself be interrupted. "Let me add," he went on, "that since I handle secret and most-secret despatches, I know things that I don't know, if I make my meaning clear. For example, I am grateful that you four were willing to lose sleep last night. Others feel strong obligations to such good friends. The Brigadier mentioned that you might have purchases to make or bills to pay. I was instructed to charge anything you need or want- or fancy-to the Imperial Household, signing his name and appending my signature."

"Oh, that's most unfair!"

"Truly, Captain? I fancy that those in authority will find something to add until you feel that you have been treated generously."

"That's not what she means, son," put in Pop. "Unfair' in the opposite direction. We pay for what we get."

Brian lost his smile. "May I suggest that the Professor discuss that with the Brigadier? I would find it extremely embarrassing to have to report to the Brigadier that I was unable to carry out his orders."

"Captain."

"What, Deety?"

"I am required to advise you."

"Advise away, my dear. I see my packages coming."

"Captain Auntie, you've got a bear by the tail. Let go."

The Hillbilly grinned and stuck out her tongue at me, then turned to Brian. "The Brigadier's thoughtful arrangements are appreciated. We accept."

It was still a few minutes before we left, as it turned out that Zebadiah's power packs were ready, in the hands of the Household engineer. At last Hilda's clothes and the power packs were in Gay; we boarded the char-à-banc, and whizzed away at 10 km/hr. "Norfolk Plantation, Captain Hilda?"

"Brian, at what time did you breakfast?"

"Oh, that's not important, Ma'am."

"Answer my question."

"At oh-seven-hundred hours, Captain."

"So I suspected. You eat at Imperial House?"

"Oh, no, Captain Hilda, only the most senior of the Governor's official family eat there. I eat at the officers' club."

"I see. We'll see wogs last. I am told there is a commissary. Is it open to us?"

"Captain Hilda, everything is open to you."

"I must buy supplies. Then I wish to go to the best restaurant in Windsor City and watch you eat a proper luncheon; we ate breakfast three hours later than you did."

"But I'm hungry," said my husband. "I'm a growing boy."

"Poor Zebbie."

There was not much to buy that would keep. I bought a tin of Huntley & Palmer's biscuits and quite a lot of Dutch chocolate-quick energy for growing boys-and tightly packaged staples.

Brian had us driven to that restaurant just past noon. I was glad that Aunt Hilda had decided to get everything else done before we went to look at vermin.

Even so, I did not have much appetite-until I decided to stand up and forthrightly turn coward. Not look at vermin! Cui bono? Aunt Hilda was the expert.

That restored my appetite. We stopped across the parade ground from Imperial House. We twigged in this order-Zebadiah, Pop, me, Aunt Hilda-that it was the officers' club. She was several meters inside when she stopped. "Brian, what are we doing here?"

"The Captain said '-the best restaurant-'. The club's chef was executive chef at Claridge's until he ran into misfortune. Don't look at me that way, Captain Hilda; the Brigadier picks up the chit; it's charged against 'official visitors' and winds up in London against H.I.M.'s Civil List. Believe me, His Majesty gets paid more than leftenants, or even brigadiers."

But the president of the mess signed the chit-a colonel who told the Hillbilly that he was buying her lunch because he wanted to ship with us as scullery maid.

I was telling Aunt Hilda that I would skip vermin viewing, thank you, when I did. One. Then six. Then a whole field of them. I was explaining to God that I didn't like this dream so please let me wake up when Brian had the conductor halt the contraption and I saw that there were men in that field, too. The men carried whips; vermin were muzzled. This one vermin-well, "wog"-this wog had managed to pull its muzzle aside and was stuffing this weedy plant into its mouth... when a whip cracked across its naked back.

It cried.

The field on the other side of the road was not being worked, so I stared at it, After a while I heard Brian say, "Captain Hilda, you are serious, really?"

"Didn't the Brigadier authorize it?"

"Ah, yes. I thought he was pulling my leg. Very well, Ma'am."

I had to see what this was all about... and discovered that muzzled vermin, afraid of men with whips, weren't frightening; they were merely ugly. Aunt Hilda was taking pictures, movies and stereo. Brian was talking to a man dressed like any farmer except for the Broad Arrow.

Brian turned and said, "Captain Hilda, the foreman asks that you point out the wog you want to dissect."

Aunt Hilda answered, "There has been a mistake."

"Ma'am? You don't want to dissect a wog?"

"Leftenant, I was told that one or more died or was slaughtered each day. I want to dissect a dead body, in an appropriate place, with surgical instruments and other aids. I have no wish to have one of these poor creatures killed."

We left shortly. Brian said, "Of the two, the abattoir and the infirmary, I suggest the latter. The veterinarian is a former Harley Street specialist. By the bye, there is no case of humans contracting disease from these brutes. So the infirmary isn't dangerous, just, ah, unpleasant."

We went to the wog hospital. I did not go inside. Shortly Pop came out, looking green. He sat beside me and smiled wanly. "Deety, the Captain ordered me outside for fresh air-and I didn't argue. Aren't you proud of me?"

I told him that I'm always proud of my Pop.

A few minutes later Brian and Zebadiah came out, with a message from Hilda that she expected to work at least another hour, possibly longer. "Captain Hilda suggests that I take you for a drive," Brian reported.

The drive was only as far as the nearest pub; the sillywagon was sent back to wait for the Hillbilly. We waited in the lounge, where Pop and Brian had whisky and splash, and Zebadiah ordered a "shandygaff'-so I did, too. It will never replace the dry martini. I made it last till Aunt Hilda showed up.

Brian asked, "Where now, Captain Hilda?"

"Imperial House. Brian, you've been most kind."

I said, "Cap'n Auntie, did you whittle one to pieces?"

"Not necessary, Deetikins. They're chimpanzees."

"You've insulted every chimp that ever lived!"

"Deety, these creatures bear the relation to 'Black Hats' that a chimpanzee does to a man. The physical resemblance is closer, but the difference in mental power- Doctor Wheatstone removed the brain from a cadaver; that told me all I needed to know. But I got something that may be invaluable. Motion pictures."

Zebadiah said, "Sharpie, you took motion pictures in the fields."

"True, Zebbie. But I have with me the Polaroids you took for me at Snug Harbor; some show the splints that creature used to disguise its extra knees and elbows. Doctor Wheatstone used surgical splints to accomplish the same with one of his helpers-a docile and fairly intelligent wog that didn't object even though it fell down the first time it tried to walk while splinted. But it caught on and managed a stiff-legged walk just like that ranger-and like 'Brainy' now that I think about it-then was delighted when Doctor Wheatstone dressed it in trousers and an old jacket. Those pictures will surprise you. No makeup, no plastic surgery, a hastily improvised disguise-from the neck down it looked human."

When we reached Imperial House, we transferred packages into Gay Deceiver-again were not permitted to carry; Brian told the conductor, the conductor told his crew. We thanked them, thanked Brian as we said good-bye, and Aunt Hilda expressed a hope of seeing him soon and we echoed her-me feeling like a hypocrite.

He saluted and started toward the officers' club. We headed for the big wide steps. Aunt Hilda said, "Deety, want to share some soap suds?"

"Sure thing!" I agreed.

"Whuffor?" asked Zebadiah. "Sharpie, you didn't get a spot on you."

"To remove the psychic stink, Zebbie."

"Mine isn't psychic," I said. "I stink, I do."

But damn, spit, and dirty socks, we had hardly climbed into that tub when a message arrived, relayed by my husband, saying that the Governor requested us to call at his office at our earliest convenience. "Sharpie hon, let me translate that, based on my eighty years man and boy as flunky to an ambassador. Means Bertie wants to see us five minutes ago."

I started to climb out; Aunt Hilda stopped me. "I understood it, Zebbie; I

speak Officialese, Campusese, and Bureaucratese. But I'll send a reply in clear English, female idiom. Is a messenger waiting?"

"Yes, a major."

"A major, eh? That will cost Bertie five extra minutes. Zebbie, I learned before you were born that when someone wants to ~ee me in a hurry, the urgency is almost never mutual. All right, message: The commanding officer of Spacecraft Gay Deceiver sends her compliments to the Governor General and will call on- him at her earliest convenience. Then give the major a message from you to Bertie that you happen to know that I'm taking a bath and that you hope I'll be ready in twenty minutes but that you wouldn't wager even money on thirty."

"Okay. Except that the word should be 'respects' not 'compliments.' Also, the major emphasized that he wants to see all of us. Want Jake and me to keep Bertie happy until you are ready?" Pop had his head in the door, listening. "We wouldn't mind." Pop nodded.

"Zebbie, Zebbie! After four years under my tutelage. Until I know what he wants I can't concede that he is senior to me. 'Compliments,' not 'respects.' And no one goes until I do... but thank you both for the offer. Two more things: After giving the major my message, will you please find my clothes, all but Deety's Keds, and take them to the car? That's Jacob's shirt, Deety's sailor pants, a blue belt, and a blue hair ribbon. In the car you will find new clothes on my seat. In one package should be three jump suits. Please fetch one back."

Pop said, "Hilda, I'd be glad to run that errand. Run it twice, in fact, as you don't want to send down what clothes you have until you know that your new clothes fit."

"Jacob, I want you right here, to scrub our backs and sing for us and keep us amused. If that jump suit does not fit, I may appear in a bath towel sarong. But I plan to appear a minute early to make Bertie happy. Do not tell the major that, Zebbie! Officially it is twenty minutes with luck, thirty minutes more likely, could be an hour, Major; you know how women are. Got it all?"

"Roger Wilco. Sharpie, someday they'll hang you."

"They will sentence me to hang but Jacob and you will rescue me. Trot along, dear." Aunt Hilda started to get out. "Stay there, Deety. I'll give you three minutes' warning-two to dry down, one to zip into yourjump suit. Which leaves ten minutes to relax."

The jump suit did fit; the Hillbilly looked cute. We left not a thing in that suite because Aunt Hilda checked it while waiting for Zebadiah. A few items went into my purse or hers. It was eighteen minutes from her message to our arrival at the Governor's office-and I had had a fifteen-minute tub, comfy if not sybaritic.

Besides Bertie and the Brigadier, that fathead Moresby was there. Aunt Hilda ignored him, so I did. Bertie stood up. "How smart you all look! Did you have a pleasant day?" The poor dear looked dreadful-gaunt, circles under his eyes.

"A perfect day-thanks to you, thanks to the Brigadier, and thanks to a curly lamb named Bean."

"A fine lad," Squeaky boomed. "I'll pass on your word, if I may." The Brigadier did not look fresh; I decided that neither had been to bed.

Bertie waited until we were seated, then got to business. "Captain Burroughs, what are your plans?"

Aunt Hilda did not answer his question. She glanced toward Major General Moresby, back at Bertie. "We are not in private, Excellency."

"Hmm-" Bertie looked unhappy. "Moresby, you are excused."

"But-"

"Dismissed. You have work to do, I feel sure."

Moresby swelled up but got up and left. Squeaky bolted the outer door, closed the inner door, while Bertie stood up to lift the rug over his recorder switch. Aunt Hilda said, "Don't bother, Bertie. Record if you need to. What's the trouble, old dear? Russians?"

"Yes. Hilda, you four are refugees; yesterday you showed me why. Would you care to remain here? My delegated power is sufficient that I can grant naturalization as fast as I can sign my signature."

"No, Bertie. But we feel greatly honored."

"I expected that. Do reconsider it. There are advantages to being a subject of the most powerful monarch in history, in being protected by a flag on which the Sun never sets."

"No, Bertie."

"Captain Hilda, I need you and your ship. Because of millions of miles of distance, many months required for a message, I hold dejure viceregal power almost equal to sovereign... and de facto greater in emergency because no Parliament is here. I can recruit foreign troops, arm them, make guarantees to them as if they were British, award the King-Emperor's commission. I would like to recruit all of you and your ship."

"Commodore for you, Captain for your second-in-command, Commander for your Chief Pilot, Lieutenant Commander for your Copilot. Retirement at full pay once the emergency is over. Return of your purchased ship as a royal gift after the emergency. Compensation for loss or damage."

"One rank higher for each of you?"

"All four of us must be at least one rank senior to Major General Moresby."

"Hilda! That's my own rank. Equivalent rank-Vice Admiral."

"Bertie, you can't hire us as mercenaries at any rank or pay. That hyperbole was to tell you that we will not place ourselves under your chief of staff. That settled, what can we do to help you?"

"I'm afraid you can't, since you won't accept the protection under international law of military status. So I'm forced to cut the knot. Do you understand the right of angary?"

(I thought he said "angry" and wondered.)

"I believe so. Are Great Britain and the Russias at war?"

"No, but there are nuances. Shall I call in my legal officer?"

"Not for me. My own legal officer is here: Doctor Zebadiah Carter, my consultant in international law."

"Doctor Carter-oh, fiddlesticks! My friend Zeb. Zeb, will you discuss the right of angary?"

"Very well, Governor. One nuance you had in mind was that, in addition to wartime, it applies to national emergency-such as your current one with the Russians."

"Yes!"

"Angary has changed in application many times but in general it is the right of a sovereign power to seize neutral transport found in its ports or territory, then use same in war or similar emergency. When the emergency is over, seized transport must be returned, fair rentals must be paid, loss or damage requires compensation. It does not apply to goods or chattels, and most especially not to persons. That's the gist. Do we need your legal officer?"

"I don't think so. Captain Burroughs?"

"We don't need him. You intend to requisition my craft?"

"Captain... I must!" Bertie was almost in tears.

"Governor, you are within your legal rights. But have you considered how you will drive it?"

"May I answer that, Governor?"

"Go ahead, Squeaky."

"Captain Hilda, I have an odd memory. 'Photographic' it is called but I remember sounds as automatically. I am sure I can fly every maneuver used last night-that is to say: sufficient for our emergency."

I was seething. But Aunt Hilda smiled at the Brigadier and said in her sweetest voice: "You've been most thoughtful throughout our stay, Squeaky. You are a warm, charming, hospitable, bastardly fink. One who would sell his wife to a Port SaId pimp. Aside from that you are practically perfect."

"Doubled and redoubled!" (That was my Pop!) "Later on, Jones, I'll see you at a time and place of your choosing. Weapons or bare hands."

"And then I will see you, if Jake leaves anything." My husband flexed his fingers. "I hope you choose bare hands."

Bertie interrupted. "I forbid this during this emergency and after it in territory where I am suzerain and while Hird-Jones holds the Sovereign's commission under my command."

Aunt Hilda said, "You are legally correct, Bertie. But you will concede that they had provocation."

"No, Ma'am! Hjrd-Jones is not at fault. I tried to get you and your crew to fly it on any terms at all. You refused. Hird-Jones may kill himself attempting to fly a strange flyer. If so he will die a hero. He is not what you called him."

"I don't think well of you, either, Bertie. You are a thief-stealing our only hope of a future."

"He certainly is!" I cut in. "Governor, I can whip you-I can kill you, with my bare hands. I'm Black-Belt three ways. Are you going to hide behind your Commission and your self-serving laws?" I dusted my hands together. "Coward.

Two cowards, with their chests covered with ribbons boasting about their brave deeds."

"Astrogator."

"Captain."

"Let it drop. Bertie, under right of angary we are entitled to remove our chattels. I insist on a witness so that you will know that we have done nothing to damage the craft. If the Brigadier can drive it, it will be turned over to him in perfect shape. But my jewelry is in our craft and many other things; I must have a witness. You, sir. My stepdaughter can certainly kill you or anyone her size or a bit more than her size, with her bare hands. But I grant you safeconduct. Will you have it in writing?"

Bertie shook his head. "You know I can't take time to witness. Pick anyone else."

"I won't grant safe-conduct to anyone else. Anyone who has not ridden with us would not know how to watch for sabotage. So it must be either you or HirdJones... and Hird-Jones would never live to get out of our car. He has three of the deadliest killers in two universes quite annoyed. Angry over angary."

"Any of you who will not give parole must wait up here."

"Wait a half, Gov," my husband drawled. "Parole' applies to prisoners. Captain, this might be a good time to read aloud our safe-conduct from the Governor General. See how many ways this fake 'officer and gentleman' has broken his word-and the written guarantees of his sovereign. He has broken all three essential guarantees to all four of us. That's twelve. Almost a Russian score. Safe-conduct amounting to diplomatic immunity, all of us free to leave at any time, we four never to be separated involuntarily. Now he wants hostages. Pfui!"

"None is broken," Bertie asserted.

"Liar," my husband answered.

"All of you are safe here... until the Russians conquer us. I slipped in speaking of parole; you are not prisoners. You all may stay together-living in the Princess Suite if you so choose. If not, in any quarters you choose in territory I control. You are all free to leave at any moment. But you must not approach that requisitioned flyer. Captain, your jewels will be safe. But others will unload the flyer."

"Bertie-"

"What? Yes... Hilda?"

"Dear, you are both stubborn and stupid. You can't open the doors of our car, much less drive it. Attempt to force it open and no one will ever drive it. I conceded the legality of the right of angary. But you insist on making it impossible to apply it. Accept my safe-conduct and come witness or there that car sits until the Russians come, while we live in luxury in this palace. You know that 'the right to leave at any time' means nothing without our transport. Now, for the last time, will you do it my way....r will you waste the precious minutes of a war crisis trying to open that car by yourself? Make up your mind, this offer will not be repeated. Answer Yes or No... and be damned quick about it!"

Bertie covered his face with his hands. "Hilda, I've been up all night. Both Squeaky and I."

"I know, dear. I knew when we came in. So I must help you make up your mind. Deety, check your purse. Something is missing."

I hastily checked, wondering what she meant. Then I noticed that a secret pocket that should have been hard was not. "Oh! Do you have it?"

"Yes, Deety." Aunt Hilda was seated, her choice, so that she had both Bertje and Squeaky in her line of fire-and none of us. "I mentioned three killers. Now you have four facing you... in a soundproofed room with its door bolted from inside." (I never saw her draw my Skoda gun. But she was holding it on them.) "Bertie, I'm making up your mind for you. You are accepting my safeconduct. Consider how poor the chances are that anyone would find your bodies in the time it takes us to run down one flight and reach our car."

Squeaky lunged at Hilda. I tripped him, kicked his left kneecap as he fell, then said, "Don't move, Fink! My next kick is a killer! Captain, has Bertie come to his senses? Or shall I take him? I hate to kill Bertie. He's tired and worried and not thinking straight. Then I would have to kill Squeaky. He can't help his eidetic memory, any more than I can help this clock in my head. Squeaky, did I break your kneecap? Or can you walk if I let you get up?"

"I can walk. You're fast, Deety."

"I know. Captain. Plans?"

"Bertie, you are accepting my safe-conduct. We are all going out together, we four around you two, laughing and talking and heading for our car-and if anyone gets close, you two are dead. One of you will get it with this-"

"And the other with this." (My husband, with his stubby police special-)

"Why, Zebbie! How naughty of you! Jacob, do you have a holdout too?"

"Just this-" Pop now had his hunting knife.

"Deety?"

"Did have. You're holding it. But I still have five weapons."

"Five?"

"Both hands, both feet, and my head. Squeaky, I must frisk you. Don't wiggle... or I'll hurt you." I added, "Stop easing toward your desk, Bertie. You can't kill four of us before we kill you. Pop, don't bother with the gun, or trap, or whatever, in Bertie's desk, Let's get out of here, laughing and joking, as the Captain ordered. Oh, Squeaky, that didn't hurt! Captain, shall I let him up?"

"Brigadier Hird-Jones, do you honor the safe-conduct granted to us by your commanding officer?" Aunt Hilda asked.

"Brigadier, I order you to honor it," Bertie said grimly.

Maybe Squeaky had to catch his breath; he was a touch slow. "Yes, sir."

Aunt Hilda said, "Thanks, Squeaky. I'm sorry I had to say harsh things to

You....ut not having muscles I must fight with words. Zebbie, frisk Bertie.

But quickly; we leave now. I leave first, on Bertie's arm. Deety follows, on

Squeaky's arm-you can lean on her if you need to; she's strong. Help him up,

Deety, Jacob and Zebbie trail along behind. Bertie, if anyone gets close to us,

or either you or Squeaky try to signal anyone, or if anything is pointed at us-

first you two die. Then we four die; that's inevitable. But we'll take some with us. What do you think the total may be? Two....nd four... then five? Six? A dozen? Or higher?"

It took us forty-seven seconds to the bottom of the steps, thirty-one more to Gay Deceiver, and I aged seventy-eight years. Squeaky did lean on me but I made it look the other way around and he managed to smile and to sing with me: Gaudeamus Igitur. Hilda sang The Bastard King to Bertie which seemed both to shock him and make him laugh. The odd way she held his arm told me that she was prepared to plant 24 poisoned darts in Bertie's left armpit if anything went sour.

No one bothered us. Bertie returned a dozen or more salutes.

But at Gay Deceiver we ran into a bobble. Four armed soldiers guarded our Smart Girl. By the starboard door was that fathead Moresby, looking smug. As we came close, he saluted, aiming it at Bertie.

Bertie did not return his salute. "What's the meaning of this?" he said, pointing. Plastered to Gay's side, bridging the line where her door fairs into her afterbody, was H.I.M.'s Imperial seal.

Moresby answered, "Governor, I understood you perfectly when you told me that I had work to do. Verb. sap., eh?"

Bertie didn't answer; Moresby continued to hold salute.

"Major General Moresby," Bertie said so quietly that I could just hear it.

"Sir!"

"Go to your quarters. Send me your sword."

I thought Fathead was going to melt down the way the Wicked Witch did when Dorothy threw the pail of water over her. He brought down the salute and left, moving quickly.

Everybody acted as if nothing had happened. Hilda said, "Gay Deceiver, open starboard door"-she did and that seal broke. "Bertie, we're going to need people to carry things. I don't want our possessions stacked outdoors."

He looked down at her, surprised. "Is the war over?"

"There never was a war, Bertie. But you tried to push us around, and I don't push. You requisitioned this craft; it's legally yours. What I insisted on was that you must witness removal of our chattels. That took coaxing."

"Coaxing'!"

"Some people are harder to coax than others. Squeaky, I'm sorry about your knee. Can you hobble back? Or shall we get you a wheelchair? That knee must be swelling up."

"I'll live. Deety, you play rough."

"Squeaky," said the Governor General, "slow march back toward the House, grab the first person you see, delegate him to round up a working party. Hilda, will a dozen be enough?"

"Better make it twenty. And about four more armed guards."

"Twenty and four additional sentries. Once you pass that word, put the senior rating in charge, and climb into a tub of hot water."

"Cold water."

"What, Hilda? Cold?"

"Hot is okay if he uses lots of Epsom salts. Otherwise ice-cold water will bring the swelling down faster, even though it's uncomfortable. But not for long. Ice water numbs pain while it reduces swelling. By morning you'll be fit. Unless Deety cracked the bone." -

"Oh, I hope not!" I blurted.

"Squeaky, you had better listen to Captain Hilda."

"I'll do it. Ice water. Brrrrr!"

"Get on with it. But order that working party."

"Right away, sir."

"Bertie, will you follow me?" Hilda went inside. The Governor followed her, started to say something but Hilda cut him off: "Jacob, get out the items forward here while Zebbie keeps inventory as you do. Bertie, I have something for Betty before that mob gets here. Will you help me undog this door or perhaps Deety can do it easier GayDeceiverCloseDoorsGayBounceGayBounceGayBounce. Bertie, take off your clothes." She held onto a door dog with her left hand, had my little gun aimed at his face.

"Hilda!"

"Captain Hilda, please; I'm in my spacecraft under way. Take off every stitch, Bertie; I'm not as trusting as Zebbie. I assume that you have a holdout he didn't find. Gay Bounce. Hurry up, Bertie; you're going to stay in free fall with no Bonine until you are naked. Zebbie, he may require help. Or inducement."

He required both. But eleven minutes later Bertie was wearing one of Pop's coveralls and his clothes were abaft the bulkhead. Zebbie did not find a weapon but Aunt Hilda took no chances. At last we were all strapped down, with Bertie between me and the Captain.

Hilda said, "All hands, report readiness for space. Astrogator."

"Captain Auntie, we are in space."

"But quite unready. Astrogator."

"Seat belt fastened. Ready."

"Chief Pilot."

"Door seal checked. No loose gear-I stuffed Bertie's clothes in with the cabin bed clothes. Four charged power packs in reserve. Juice oh-seven-oh. All systems go. Ready."

"Copilot."

"Seat belt tight. Continua device ready. Door seal checked. I'd like a Bonine if we're going to be in free fall long. Ready for space."

"Astrogator, three antinausea pills-captain, copilot, passenger. Passenger."

"Oh! Oh, yes! Safety belt tight."

"Captain states seat belt fastened. Ready for space. Gay Termite."

It was just sunrise at our streamside "home." "Aunt Hilda, why did we run through all that rigamarole if we were coming straight here?"

"Deety, when you are captain you will know."

"Not me. I'm not the captain type."

She ignored me. "Lieutenant General Smythe-Carstairs, will you give me your unconditional parole until I return you home? On your honor as an officer and a gentleman."

"Am I going home? I had assumed that I had not long to live."

"You are going home. And I do have something for Betty. But whether or not you give parole affects other matters. Make up your mind-at once!"

It took him six seconds; Aunt Hilda let him have them. "Parole. Unconditional."

"I'm surprised, Bertie. You have a tradition against giving parole, do you not?"

"We do indeed, Captain. But I concluded that my only chance of serving my sovereign lay in giving my word. Am I right?"

"Quite right, Bertie. You now have opportunity to persuade me to support you in your crisis. Your King-Emperor is not our prince; we place no faith in princes. We have no reason to love Russians but we spanked the only one who gave us trouble. In what way is the British colony superior to the Russian one? Take your time."

Aunt Hilda turned her attention to the rest of us. "Standing orders apply:

Two at a time, one being armed. Deety and I will cut and wrap sandwiches, make coffee and prepare a snack for growing boys who can't remember a bounteous luncheon three hours ago. One guard at all times at the car. Bertie, I'm assigning you that duty. You know how to use a rifle?"

Zebadiah said, "You're arming him?"

"Chief Pilot, I assume that you are questioning my judgment. If you convince me that I am wrong, there will be a new captain even more quickly than I had planned. May I have your reason?"

"Sharpie, I didn't mean to get your feathers up."

"Not at all, Zebbie. Why are you surprised that I intend to use Bertie as guard?"

"Ten minutes ago you had me do a skin search to make sure he wasn't armed. Now you are about to hand him a gun."

"Ten minutes ago he had not given parole."

Bertie said hastily, "Zeb is right, Hilda-Captain Hilda; Zeb has no reason to trust me. I don't want to be a bone of contention!"

I'm still trying to figure out whether Aunt Hilda is more logical than other people or is a complete sophist. She gave Bertie a freeze, looking him up and down. "Smythe-Carstairs, your opinion was neither asked nor wanted."

Bertie turned pink. "Sorry, Ma'am."

"Although you were a person of some importance in your own land, you are now something between a prisoner and a nuisance. I am trying to give you the dignity of crew member pro tern. Hold your tongue. Zebbie, what were you going to say?"

"Shucks, if you aren't afraid to have him with a gun at your back, I'm not. No offense intended, Bertie."

"None taken, Zeb."

"Zebbie, please assure yourself that Bertie can handle a rifle, and that he

knows what to shoot at and when not to shoot, before you turn the guard over to him. Put the other rifle at the door for bush patrol. Bertie, watch and listen. Gay Deceiver, open your doors."

Our Smart Girl opened wide. "Gay Deceiver, close your doors." Gay complied. "Bertie," Aunt Hilda went on, "you do it."

Of course he failed-and failed again on other voice programs. The Hillbilly explained that it took me a tedious time with special equipment to cause this autopilot to respond to a particular human voice. "Bertie, go back and explain to Squeaky; make him understand that I saved his life. This car can be driven in three modes. Two Squeaky can't use at all; the third would kill him as dead as Caesar."

"Plus a fourth hazard," added my husband. "Anybody who doesn't understand the Smart Girl but tries to take her apart to see what makes her tick would find himself scattered over a couple of counties."

"Booby-trapped, Zebadiah?" I asked. "I hadn't known it."

"No. But juice is very unfriendly to anybody who doesn't understand it."

"Come and get it!" The snack Aunt Hilda offered was a much-stuffed omelet. "Bertie, place your gun near you, locked. Between bites, you can tell us why your colony is worth defending. By us, I mean. For you, it's duty."

"Captain Hilda, I've done some soul-searching. I daresay that, in the main, we and the Russians are much the same, prison colonies with military governors. Perhaps, in a hundred years, it won't matter. Although I see us as morally superior."

"How, Bertie?"

"A Russian might see this differently. Our transportees are malefactors under our laws-but once here, they are as free as other Englishmen. Oh, they must wear the Broad Arrow until discharged-but at home they would wear it in a grim prison. The Russian prisoners are, if our intelligence is correct, the people they used to send to the Siberian salt mines. Political prisoners. They are serfs but I am told that most of them were not serfs in Russia. Whether they are treated better or worse than serfs in Russia I do not know. But one thing I do know. They work their fields with men; we work ours with wogs."

"And whip them!" Suddenly I was angry.

We had an argument, Bertie maintaining that the whips were not used unnecessarily, I asserting that I had seen it with my own eyes.

I guess he won, as he told us that they had to muzzle the beasts in weed fields, or they would stuff themselves on it, pass out, wake somewhat, do it again, and starve-but the muzzles were designed to allow them to chew a blade at a time all day long, to keep them happy. "The raw weed is addictive, to wog and man. We won't allow a man to work in the fields more than three months at a time... and pull him out if he can't pass the weekly medical tests. As for wogs, Deety-yes, we exploit them. Human beings exploit horses, cattle, sheep, poultry, and other breeds. Are you vegetarian?"

I admitted I was not. "But I don't want to eat wogs!"

"Nor do we. In Windsor colony wog meat goes only to wogs, and wogs don't care. In the wild they eat their own dead, kill and eat their aged. Captain Hilda, that's all the defense I can offer. I admit that it doesn't sound as strong as I had always believed."

"Captain, I'd like to put one to Bertie."

"Jacob, I treasure your thoughts."

"Bertie, would you polish off the Russians if you could?"

Bertie snorted. "That's academic, Doctor. I don't command the force it would take. I can't set up a string of stockpiles-and wouldn't know what to do with them if I could; I don't have the troops or 'thopters. But I must add: If my King tells me to fight, I will fight."

Aunt Hilda told Bertie to wash dishes with Pop sent along as guard. As soon as they started down, Aunt Hilda said, "We are going to do it, to a maximum cost of one power pack. Deety, start working on a program stringing together the dumps we located last night."

"Already have," I told her. "In my head. Last night. To put me to sleep. You want it preprogrammed? I would rather tell Gay each bounce, I would."

"Do it your way, hon. The purpose in sending Bertie to wash dishes and Jacob to guard him was to get them out of the way while I rig a frameup. At the end of the coming run, we drop Bertie and bounce... and at that instant I cease to be captain. I want to hold the election now-a one-ballot railroad. I will ask for nominations. Zebbie, you nominate Jacob. Deety, you don't need to say anything but speak if you wish. If Jacob nominates either of you, don't argue. I'll rig it so that Bertie declares the ballots. If you two are with me, the only surprise will be that fourth vote. Three for Jacob, and let's all write 'Jacob,' not 'Pop' or 'Jake,' and one for the dark horse. Are you with me?"

"Wait a half, Sharpie. Why not give Deety a crack at it?"

"Not me!"

"Deety should have the experience, but, please, Zebbie, not this time. Jacob has given me a dreadful time. Endless insubordination. I want to pass him on to Deety well tenderized. Deety ought not to have to put up with her father second-guessing her decisions-and, if you two help, she won't have to. I want to give my beloved the goddamndest 'white mutiny' ever, one that he will remember with shudders and never again give a skipper any lip."

"Sounds good," I agreed, "but I don't know what a 'white mutiny' is."

"Sweetheart," my husband told me, "it's killing him with kindness. He says 'Frog,' we hop. Utter and literal obedience."

"This he won't like? Pop will love it!"

"So? Would you like to command zombies who never make suggestions and carry out orders literally without a grain of common sense?"

Fifteen minutes later Bertie read off: "Jacob' and this reads 'Jacob' and so does this one, that seems to settle it. But here is one, folded: 'A bunch of smarties, you three. Think I didn't guess why you sent me down to ride shot-

gun? Very well, I vote for myself!' It is signed 'Jake.' Madame Speaker, is that valid?"

"Quite. Jacob, my last order will be liftoff after we drop Bertie."

Bertie said, "Jake, I think congratulations are in order."

"Pipe down! All hands, prepare for space."

"A piece of cake," Bertie called it. We started at the easternmost dump, worked west. Pop out at four klicks and dive, a dry run to size up the target; where wood alcohol was stored, ornithopters on the ground and how arranged... while Gay ululated from intensity six to eight. Frightfulness. I did not let it go up to ten because it wasn't intended to damage but to send anyone on target scattering.

Zebadiah's idea: "Captain, I've got nothing against Russians. My only purpose is to burn their fuel and their flaphappies to make it difficult to attack our friends-and I don't mean you big brass, Bertie. I mean the transportee maid who brought us tea this morning, and Brian Bean, and Mr. Wheatstone who was a top surgeon before some fool judge slammed him and is now doing his best for wogs, and the chef at the officers' club, and five cons who drove that sillywagon, and dozens more who smiled when they could have scowled. I don't want them killed or enslaved; I want them to have their chance. Governor, England is slapping the Broad Arrow on some of your best potential- you English will live to regret it."

"You could be right, Zeb,"

"I don't want to kill Russians, either. Could be most of them are decent blokes. Each strike will be a double run-one pass to scatter 'em, a second to destroy the dump. Captain, if that doesn't suit you, find another gunner."

Aunt Hilda said, "Astrogator."

"Captain."

"Strike as described by Chief Pilot. Take the conn. Attack."

At the first target we lingered after the strike bounce. The dry pass did show them running away-they could hear us clear in their bones. Those subsonics are so horrid I keyed Gay to kill the noise at code-word "Bounce"- and did not use it on the strike pass.

Zebadiah made strikes from bearings planned to take out as many 'thopters as possible while setting fire to fuel.

From four klicks the first strike looked good. The dump was burning, 'thopters he had hit showed smoke, and one that he had not hit was burning. Splashed by flaming methanol, I suppose.

If that first target was indication, in thirty-four minutes the Russians lost all fuel and about 70% of the deployed flaphappies. I took us up high after the last. "Next stop, Windsor City."

"l'm taking the conn, Astrogator. Bertie, don't forget my little ring for Betty."

"I'll give it to her in the morning."

"Good," Captain Hilda said. "Unbelt, crowd past Jacob, place yourself against the door-feet on deck, chest against door. Jacob, push against the small of his back. Bertie, when the door opens, dive and roll clear."

They positioned themselves. "Gay Parade Ground Gay Deceiver open starboard door... Gay Deceiver close doors, GayBounce, GayBounce! Jacob, do you relieve me?"

"Beloved, I relieve you. Ten minima H axis transit-and executed. All hands, unbelt."

I unbuckled with extreme speed~ and clumsiness, getting Pop in the chin with my foot.

"Deety! Watch where you're going!"

"I'm sorry, Captain. I'm out of practice with free fall."

"You've been in free fall every day!"

"Yes, Captain. I've been in free fall every day, belted down."

"Pipe down! Hilda, don't cover the instrument board. Hold onto something. No, not me, damn it. Zeb! Grab something and catch Hilda!"

"Roger Wilco, Captain! Right away!" My husband snagged Aunt Hilda, grabbed a seat belt with his other hand, trapped our captain against the dogs of the bulkhead door with his buttocks. "What now, sir!"

"Get your goddam fanny out of my face!"

"Sorry, sir," Zebadiah answered humbly while turning and digging an elbow into Pop's ribs. I closed in from the other side and we had Pop trapped again- ballet and trampoline make a fine background for free fall. Zebadiah went on cheerfully, "What shall we do now, sir?"

Pop didn't answer. From watching his lips I saw that he was counting backwards, silently, in German. That's stage three.

Then he said quietly, "Zeb, get into the copilot's seat and belt down."

"Aye aye, sir." Zebadiah did so.

Pop snatched Hilda while hanging onto a dog. "Deety, belt down in the chief pilot's seat."

"Roger Wilco, Captain"-I did so.

"My dear, I want you behind Deety. Do you need help?"

"Yes, thank you, Captain; it's sweet of you to offer." White mutiny? The Hillbilly is about as helpless as Zebadiah but thinks God created men to pamper women. I've heard less reasonable philosophies.

After "helping" Hilda, Pop strapped down in the starboard after seat. "All hands! We have moved clockwise ninety degrees. I am now captain. Hilda, you are astrogator and second-in-command. Deety, you are chief pilot. Zeb, you are copilot. In order of seniority, any questions?"

The Hillbilly said in a small voice, "As second-in-command I am required to advise the Captain-"

"Certain circumstances. Speak up."

"Captain, I know very little about astrogation."

"That's why you have the job. You will seek advice from Deety as needed, both of you seek advice from Zeb when necessary-and if all three of you are stumped, I will tackle it and be responsible for mistakes. No burden, the

Captain is always responsible for all mistakes. When in doubt, do not hesitate to consult me.

"Deety, you have not driven this car in atmosphere. But you are a competent, decisive, and skillful driver of duos"-I am, Pop?-you're years late in saying so-"and we have come this high to give you time to acquaint yourself with it. I placed Zeb by you to coach you and, in time, to report to me that you are fully qualified." Pop smiled. "Fortunately, should you get into trouble, we have programs that will get you out instantly such as 'Gay Bounce'-"

Gay bounced.

Pop did not notice but I had my eye on radar distance since learning that I was responsible. Pop, who invented those safety scrams? Think hard. Hint:

One of your offspring.

"Zeb, you know the knobs and scales et cetera of the controls we refer to as the verniers but you have not had time to practice. Now you will practice until you can handle anything, by eye, or by clicks in the dark. Permit me to pay you this compliment: You will give yourself your own final examination. When you feel ready, tell me and I will have the Astrogator log it.

"Advice to future captains-I will not be happy until all are competent in each of four seats, and all feel easy in all twenty-five possible arrangements-"

"Twenty-four, Pop," I blurted out. I hastily added, "Sorry, Captain-'twentyfive."

Pop has a terrible time with kitchen arithmetic; it has been so long since he has done any. He will pick up a hand computer to discover 2x3=6; I've seen him do it.

He stared at me, lips moving slightly. At last he said, "Chief Pilot."

"Captain."

"You are ordered to correct me when I make a mistake. 'Twenty-four' permutations, certainly."

"Sir, may the Chief Pilot have more information before she answers RogerWilco?"

"Fire away!"

"Captain, what categories of mistakes?"

"Eh? Any sort! A mistake is a mistake. Daughter, are you baiting me?"

"No, Captain. I am unable to acknowledge your order as I do not understand it. 'A mistake is a mistake' is semantically null. If I see you about to sugar your coffee twice shall I-"

"Tell me! Of course."

"If I see you treating your wife unjustly shall I-"

"Wait a moment! Even if I did or have-which I decline to stipulate-it is not proper for you to interfere."

"Yes, sir. We've established that there are two sets. But the Captain has not defined the sets and the Chief Pilot lacks authority to do so. May I resPectfully suggest that the Captain take notice of the quandary, then reframe the order at a time of his choosing... and in the meantime permit the Chief Pilot not to correct the Captain's mistakes?"

Zebadiah winked at me with his head turned so that I saw it but Pop could not.

Pop fumed, complaining that I wasn't showing common sense and, worse, I had broken his train of thought. He finally got around to a definition at about 8th grade level: I was to correct him only in errors involving figures or related symbols such as angles. (On your own head be it, Pop!) I gave him Roger-Wilco.

"In fact," he went on expansively, "it may be my duty to see that this training course is completed before, with great relief, I turn this seat over to my successor."

(I started figuring how many children I would have by then and decided to look for ways to hike up the "white mutiny.")

"Captain?"

"Astrogator."

"This advice concerns a mistake that could occur in the near future. I assume that the Captain has the conn?"

"Hilda, I have the conn. Speak up."

"We are falling, sir. I advise placing us in orbit."

I sighed with relief, as radar distance I was beginning to think of as Habove-G and did not like our closing rate.

Pop said, "Surely, put us in orbit. Take the conn and do it. Good practice. Deety can show you how. Or Zeb."

"Aye aye, sir. I have the conn. Chief Pilot, keep her level with respect to planet."

"Roger. Level now."

"Copilot, add speed vector positive axis L three point six klicks per second."

"Uh... set!"

"Hold it!" Pop unbelted, steadied himself by Zebadiah's chair, checked the setting. "Okay. Execute!"

"Excuse me, Captain," Zebadiah said, "but was that order directed at me or the Astrogator?"

Pop opened his mouth-then turned red. "Astrogator, I am satisfied with your solution and the setting. Please have the maneuver executed."

"Aye aye, sir. Execute!"

What Pop planned seemed reasonable. "So far we have used juice, supplies, and four days' time, and have merely established that there are at least two analogs of our universe, one quantum and ten quanta away on Tau axis. The latter has beasts-wogs-that are not the vermin we fled from, but-according to Hilda-closely related. To me, this makes Tau axis not our best place to seek a new home.

"Zebadiah has suggested that we sample the universes available by rotation rather than translation-six axes taken four at a time-before we search Teh axis. Let me remind you that we could die of old age searching Teh axis alone. I will decide but I will listen to arguments pro or con."

Twenty-three minutes later Aunt Hilda shrilled, "Copilot, by plan, as set- Rotate!"