The Number of the Beast

III

"-Professor Moriarty isn't fooled-"

Zeb:

Don't ask me how. Ask a trapeze artist how he does a triple 'sault. Ask a crapshooter how he knows when he's "hot." But don't ask me how I know it's going to happen just before it hits the fan.

It doesn't tell me anything I don't need to know. I don't know what's in a letter until I open it (except the time it was a letter bomb). I have no precognition for harmless events. But this split-second knowledge when I need it has kept me alive and relatively unscarred in an era when homicide kills more people than does cancer and the favorite form of suicide is to take a rifle up some tower and keep shooting until the riot squad settles it.

I don't see the car around the curve on the wrong side; I automatically hit the ditch. When the San Andreas Fault cut loose, I jumped out a window and was in the open when the shock arrived-and didn't know why I had jumped.

Aside from this, my E.S.P. is erratic; I bought it cheap from a war-surplus outlet.

I sprawled with three under me. I got up fast, trying to avoid crushing them. I gave a hand to each woman, then dragged Pop to his feet. No one seemed damaged. Deety stared at the fire blazing where their car had been, face impassive. Her father was looking at the ground, searching. Deety stopped him. "Here, Pop." She put his glasses back on him.

"Thank you, my dear." He started toward the fire.

I grabbed his shoulder. "No! Into my car-fast!"

"Eh? My briefcase-could have blown clear."

"Shut up and move! All of you!"

"Do it, Pop!" Deety grabbed Hilda's arm. We stuffed the older ones into the after space; I shoved Deety into the front passenger seat and snapped: "Seat belts!" as I slammed the door-then was around to the left so fast that I should have caused a sonic boom. "Seat belts fastened?" I demanded as I fastened my own and locked the door.

"Jake's is fastened and so is mine, Zebbie dear," Hilda said cheerfully.

"Belt tight, door locked," Deety reported.

The heap was hot; I had left it on trickle-what use is a fast car that won't go scat? I switched from trickle to full, did not turn on lights, glanced at the board and released the brake.

It says here that duos must stay grounded inside city limits-so I was lifting her nose before she had rolled a meter and she was pointed straight up as we were clearing the parking lot.

Half a klick straight up while the gee meter climbed-two, three, four-I let it reach five and held it, not being sure what Pop's heart would take. When the altimeter read four klicks, I cut everything-power, transponder, the works-while hitting a button that dropped chaff, and let her go ballistic. I didn't know that anyone was tracking us-I didn't want to find out.

When the altimeter showed that we had topped out, I let the wings open a trifle. When I felt them bite air, I snap-rolled onto her belly, let wings crawl out to subsonic aspect and let her glide. "Everybody okay?"

Hilda giggled. "Whoops, deane! Do that again! This time, somebody kiss me."

"Pipe down, you shameless old strumpet. Pop?"

"I'm okay, son."

"Deety?"

"Okay here."

"Did that fall in the parking lot hurt you?"

"No, sir. I twisted in the air and took it on one buttock while getting Pop's glasses. But next time put a bed under me, please. Or a wrestling mat."

"I'll remember." I switched on radio but not transponder, tried all police frequencies. If anyone had noticed our didoes, they weren't discussing it on the air. We were down to two klicks; I made an abrupt wingover to the right, then switched on power. "Deety, where do you and your Pop live?"

"Logan, Utah."

"How long does it take to get married there?"

"Zebbie," Hilda cut in, "Utah has no waiting time-"

"So we go to Logan."

"-but does require blood test. Deety, do you know Zebbie's nickname around campus? The Wasp. For 'Wassermann Positive.' Zebbie, everybody knows that Nevada is the only state that offers twenty-four-hour service, no waiting time, no blood test. So point this bomb at Reno and sign off."

"Sharpie darling," I said gently, "would you like to walk home from two thousand meters?"

"I don't know; I've never tried it."

"That's an ejection seat... but no parachutes."

"Oh, how romantic! Jake darling, we'll sing the Liebestod on the way down- you sing tenor, I'll force a soprano and we'll die in each other's arms. Zebbie, could we have more altitude? For the timing."

"Doctor Burroughs, gag that hitchhiker. Sharpie, Liebestod is a solo."

"Picky, picky! Isn't dead-on-arrival enough? Jealous because you can't carry a tune? I told Dicky Boy that should be a duet and Cosima agreed with me-"

"Sharpie, button your frimpin' lip while I explain. One: Everybody at your party knows why we left and will assume that we headed for Reno. You probably called out something to that effect as you left-"

"I believe I did. Yes, I did."

"Shut up. Somebody made a professional effort to kill Doctor Burroughs. Not just kill but overkill; that combo of high explosive and Thermit was intended to leave nothing to analyze. But it is possible that no one saw us lift. We were into this go-wagon and I was goosing it less than thirty seconds after that booby trap exploded. Innocent bystanders would look at the fire, not at us. Guilty bystanders- There wouldn't be any. A professional who booby-traps a car either holes up or crosses a state line and gets lost. The party or parties who paid for the contract may be nearby, but if they are, Hilda, they're in your house."

"One of my guests?"

"Oh, shut it, Sharpie; you are never interested in the morals of your guests. If they can be depended on to throw custard pies or do impromptu strips or some other prank that will keep your party from growing dull, that qualifies them. However, I am not assuming that the boss villain was at your party; I am saying that he would not be lurking where the Man might put the arm on him. Your house would be the best place to hide and watch the plot develop.

"But, guest or not, he was someone who knew that Doctor Burroughs would be at your party. Hilda, who knew that key fact?"

She answered with uncustomary seriousness. "I don't know, Zebbie. I would have to think."

"Think hard."

"Mmm, not many. Several were invited because Jake was coming-you, for example-"

"I became aware of that."

"-but you weren't told that Jake would be present. Some were told-'No Brain,' for example-but I can't imagine that old fool booby-trapping a car."

"I can't either, but killers don't look like killers; they look like people. How long before the party did you tell 'Brainy' that Pop would be present?"

"I told him when I invited him. Mmm, eight days ago."

I sighed. "The possibles include not only the campus but the entire globe. So we must try to figure probables. Doctor Burroughs, can you think of anyone who would like to see you dead?"

"Several !"

"Let me rephrase it. Who hates your guts so bitterly that he would not hesitate to kill your daughter as long as he got you? And also bystanders such as Hilda and me. Not that we figure, save to show that he didn't give a hoot who caught it. A deficient personality. Amoral. Who is he?"

Pop Burroughs hesitated. "Doctor Carter, disagreement between mathematicians can be extremely heated... and I am not without fault." (You're telling me, Pop!) "But these quarrels rarely result in violence. Even the death of Archimedes was only indirectly related to his-our-profession. To encompass my daughter as well-no, even Doctor Brain, much as I despise him, does not fit the picture."

Deety said, "Zeb, could it have been me they were shooting at?"

"You tell me. Whose dolly have you busted?"

"Hmm- I can't think of anyone who dislikes me even enough to snub me. Sounds silly but it's true."

"It's the truth," put in Sharpie. "Deety is just like her mother was. When

Jane-Deety's mother, and my best friend until we lost her-when Jane and

I were roommates in college, I was always getting into jams and Jane was

always getting me out-and never got into one herself. A peacemaker. So is

Deety."

"Okay, Deety, you're out of it. So is Hilda and so am I, as whoever placed that booby trap could not predict that either Hilda or I would be in blast range. So it's Pop they're gunning for. Who we don't know, why we don't know. When we figure out why, we'll know who. Meantime we've got to keep Pop out of range. I'm going to marry you as fast as possible, not only because you smell good but to give me a legitimate interest in this fight."

"So we go first to Reno."

"Shut up, Sharpie. We've been on course for Reno since we leveled off." I flipped on the transponder, but to the left, not right. It would now answer with a registered, legal signal... but not one registered to my name. This cost me some shekels I did not need but were appreciated by a tight-lipped family man in Indio. Sometimes it is convenient not to be identified by sky cops every time one crosses a state line.

"But we aren't going to Reno. Those cowboy maneuvers were intended to deceive the eye, radar, and heat seekers. The evasion against the heat seekers-that rough turn while we were still in glide-either worked or was not needed, as we haven't had a missile up the tail. Probably wasn't needed; people who booby-trap cars aren't likely to be prepared to shoot a duo out of the sky. But I couldn't be certain, so I ducked. We may be assumed to be dead in the blast and fire, and that assumption may stand up until the mess has cooled down and there is daylight to work by. Even later it may stand up, as the cops may not tell anyone that they were unable to find organic remains. But I must assume that Professor Moriarty isn't fooled, that he is watching by repeater scope in his secret HQ, that he knows we are headed for Reno, and that hostiles will greet us there. So we won't go there. Now quiet, please; I must tell this baby what to do."

The computer-pilot of my car can't cook but what she can do, she does well. I called for display map, changed scale to include Utah, used the light pen to trace route-complex as it curved around Reno to the south, back north again, made easting over some very empty country, and passed north of Hill Air Force Range in approaching Logan. I fed in height-above-ground while giving her leeway to smooth out bumps, and added one change in speed-over-ground once we were clear of Reno radar. "Got it, girl?" I asked her.

"Got it, Zeb."

"Ten-minute call, please."

"Call you ten minutes before end of routing-right!"

"You're a smart girl, Gay."

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

"Roger and out, Gay." The display faded.

Certainly I could have programmed my autopilot to accept a plan in response to a punched "Execute." But isn't it pleasanter to be answered by a warm contralto? But the "smart girl" aspect lay in the fact that it took my voice to make a flight plan operative. A skilled electron pusher might find a way to override my lock, then drive her manually. But the first time he attempted to use autopilot, the car would not only not accept the program but would scream for help on all police frequencies. This causes car thieves to feel maladjusted.

I looked up and saw that Deety had been following this intently. I waited for some question. Instead Deety said, "She has a very pleasant voice, Zeb."

"Gay Deceiver is a very nice girl, Deety."

"And talented. Zeb, I have never before been in a Ford that can do the things this car-Gay Deceiver?-can do."

"After we're married I'll introduce you to her more formally. It will require reprogramming."

"I look forward to knowing her better."

"You will. Gay is not exactly all Ford. Her external appearance was made by Ford of Canada. Most of the rest of her once belonged to Australian Defense Forces. But I added a few doodads. The bowling alley. The powder room. The veranda. Little homey touches."

"I'm sure she appreciates them, Zeb. I know I do. I suspect that, had she not had them, we would all be as dead as canasta."

"You may be right. If so, it would not be the first time Gay has kept me alive. You have not seen all her talents."

"I'm beyond being surprised. So far as I could see you didn't tell her to land at Logan."

"Logan seems to be the next most likely place for a reception committee. Who in Logan knows that you and your father were going to visit Hilda?"

"No one, through me."

"Mail? Milk cartons? Newspapers?"

"No deliveries to the house, Zeb." She turned her head, "Pop, does anyone in Logan know where we went?"

"Doctor Carter, to the best of my knowledge, no one in Logan knows that we left. Having lived many years in the buzzing gossip of Academe, I have learned to keep my life as private as possible."

"Then I suggest that you all ease your belts and sleep. Until ten minutes before reaching Logan there is little to do."

"Doctor Carter-"

"Better call me Zeb, Pop. Get used to it."

"Zeb' it is, son. On page eighty-seven of your monograph, after the equation numbered one-twenty-one in your discussion of the rotation of six-dimensional spaces of positive curvature, you said, 'From this it is evident that-' and immediately write your equation one-twenty-two. How did you do it? I'm not disagreeing, sir-on the contrary! But in an unpublished paper of my own I used a dozen pages to arrive at the same transformation. Did you have a direct intuition? Or did you simply omit publishing details? No criticism, I am impressed either way. Sheer curiosity."

"Doctor, I did not write that paper. I told Deety so."

"That is what he claimed, Pop."

"Oh, come now! Two Doctors Zebulon E. Carter on one campus?"

"No. But that's not my name. I'm Zebadiah J. Carter. Zebulon E.-for-Edward Carter and called 'Ed' is my cousin. While he is probably listed as being on campus, in fact he is doing an exchange year in Singapore. It's not as improbable as it sounds; all male members of my family have first names starting with 'Z.' It has to do with money and a will and a trust fund and the fact that my grandfather and his father were somewhat eccentric."

"Whereas you aren't," Hilda said sweetly.

"Quiet, dear." I turned toward Deety. "Deety, do you want to be released from our engagement? I did try to tell you that you had trapped the wrong bird."

"Zebadiah-"

"Yes, Deety?"

"I intend to marry you before this night is over. But you haven't kissed me. I want to be kissed."

I unfastened my seat belt, started to unfasten hers, found that she had done so.

Deety kisses even better than she tangos.

During a break for oxygen, I asked her in a whisper: "Deety, what do your initials stand for?"

"Well... please don't laugh."

"I won't. But I have to know them for the ceremony."

"I know. All right, Dee Tee stands for Dejah Thoris."

Dejah Thoris- Dejah Thoris Burroughs- Dejah Thoris Carter! I cracked up.

I got it under control after two whoops. Too many. Deety said sadly, "You said you wouldn't laugh."

"Deety darling, I wasn't laughing at your name; I was laughing at mine."

"I don't think 'Zebadiah' is a funny name. I like it."

"So do I. It keeps me from being mixed up with the endless Bobs and Eds and Toms. But I didn't tell my middle name. What's a funny name starting with 'J'?"

"I won't guess."

"Let me lead up to it. I was born near the campus of the university Thomas Jefferson founded. The day I graduated from college I was commissioned a second looie Aerospace Reserve. I've been promoted twice. My middle initial stands for 'John."

It took not quite a second for her to add it up. "Captain... John... Carter-of Virginia."

"A clean-limbed fighting man," I agreed. "Kaor, Dejah Thoris. At your service, my princess. Now and forever!"

"Kaor, Captain John Carter. Helium is proud to accept."

We fell on each other's shoulders, howling. After a bit the howling died down and turned into another kiss.

When we came up for air, Hilda tapped me on a shoulder. "Would you let us in on the joke?"

"Do we tell her, Deety?"

"I'm not sure. Aunt Hilda talks."

"Oh, nonsense! I know your full name and I've never told anyone-I held you at your christening. You were wet, too. At both ends. Now give!"

"All right. We don't have to get married-we already are. For years. More than a century."

Pop spoke up. "Eh? What's this?" I explained to him. He looked thoughtful, then nodded. "Logical." He went back to figuring he was doing in a notebook, then looked up. "Your cousin Zebulon- Is he on the telephone?"

"Probably not but he lives at the New Raffles."

"Excellent. I'll try both the hotel and the university. Doctor-Son-Zeb, would you be so kind as to place the call? My comcredit code is Nero Aleph eight zero one dash seven five two dash three nine three two Zed Star Zed." (Zed Star Zed credit rating-I was not going to have to support my prospective father-in-law.)

Deety cut in. "Pop, you must not call Professor Carter-Zebulon Carter- at this hour."

"But, my dear daughter, it is not late at night in-"

"Of course it isn't; I can count. You want a favor from him, so don't interrupt his after-lunch nap. 'Mad dogs and Englishmen."

"It isn't noon in Singapore; it's-"

"-siesta time, even hotter than noon. So wait."

"Deety is right, Pop," I interrupted, "but for the wrong reasons. It doesn't seem to be a matter of life and death to call him this minute. Whereas it might be a matter of life and death-ours, I mean-to make a call from this car... especially with your credit code. Until we find out who the Boys in the Black Hats are, I advise that you place calls from the ground and from public phones that you can feed with newdollars instead of your code. Say a phone in Peoria. Or Paducah. Can it wait?"

'~Since you put it that way, sir-yes, it can wait. Although I have trouble believing that anyone wishes to kill me."

"Available data indicate it."

"Agreed. But I have not yet grasped it emotionally."

"Takes a baseball bat," said Hilda. "I had to sit on him while Jane proposed to him."

"Why, Hilda my dear, that is utterly unfactual. I wrote my late beloved a polite note saying-"

I let them argue while, I tried to add to available data. "Gay Deceiver."

"Yes, Boss?"

"News, dear."

"Ready, Boss."

"Retrieval parameters. Time-since twenty-one hundred. Area-California, Nevada, Utah. Persons-your kindly boss, dear. Doctor Jacob Burroughs, Doctor D. T. Burroughs, Miz Hilda Corners-" I hesitated. "Professor Neil O'Heret Brain." I felt silly adding "Brainy"-but there had been a row between Pop and him, and years earlier my best teacher had said, "Never neglect the socalled 'trivial' roots of an equation," and had pointed out that two Nobel prizes had derived from "trivial" roots.

"Parameters complete, Boss~"

Doctor Burroughs touched my shoulder. "Can your computer check the news if any on your cousin?"

"Mmm, maybe. She stores sixty million bytes, then wipes last-in-last-out everything not placed on permanent. But her news storage is weighted sixtyforty in favor of North America. I'll try. Smart Girl."

"Holding, Boss."

"Addendum. First retrieve by parameters given. Then retrieve by new program. Time-backwards from now to wipe time. Area-Singapore. Person- Zebulon Edward Carter aka Ed Carter aka Doctor Z. E. Carter aka Professor Z. E. Carter aka Professor or Doctor Carter of Raffles University."

"Two retrieval programs in succession. Got it, Zeb."

"You're a smart girl, Gay."

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

"Roger, Gay. Execute!"

"AP San Francisco. A mysterious explosion disturbed the academic quiet of-" A story ending with the usual claim about an arrest being expected "momentarily" settled several points: All of us were believed dead. Our village top cop claimed to have a theory but was keeping it mum-meaning that he knew even less than we did. Since we were reported as "presumed dead" and since the news said nothing about an illegal lift-off and other capers that annoy sky cops, I assumed tentatively that police radar had not been looking at us until after we had become just one more blip behaving legally. The lack of mention of the absence of Gay Deceiver did not surprise me, as I had roaded in and had been last or nearly last to park-and could have arrived by taxi, public capsule, or on foot. Doctor Brain was not mentioned, nothing about the row. Guests had been questioned and released. Five cars parked near the, explosion had been damaged.

"Nevada-null retrieval. Utah-UPI Salt Lake City. A fire near Utah State, University campus in Logan destroyed-" "Blokes in Black Hats" again and

Deety and her Pop were dead twice over, as they were presumed to have been overcome by smoke, unable to escape. No one else hurt or missing. Fire attributed to faulty wiring. "End of first retrieval, Zeb. Second retrieval starting." Gay shut up.

I said soberly, "Pop, somebody doesn't like you." He groaned, "Gone! All gone!"

"No copies of your papers elsewhere? And your... gadget?"

"Eh? No, no!-much worse! My irreplaceable collection of pulp magazines. Weird Tales, Argosy, All-Story, the early Gernsbachs, The Shadow, Black Mask-Ooooooh!"

"Pop really does feel bad," Deety whispered, "and I could manage tears myself. I taught myself to read from that collection. War Aces, Air Wonder, the complete Clayton Astoundings- It was appraised at two hundred and thirteen thousand newdollars. Grandpop started it, Pop continued it-I grew up reading them."

"I'm sorry, Deety." I hugged her. "They should have been microfiched."

"They were. But that's not having the magazines in your hands."

"I agree. Uh, how about the... thing in the basement?"

"What 'Thing in the Basement'?" demanded Sharpie. "Zebbie, you sound like H. P. Lovecraft,"

"Later, Sharpie. Comfort Jake; we're busy. Gay!"

"Here, Zeb. Where's the riot?"

"Display map, please." We were midway over northern Nevada. "Cancel routing and cruise random. Report nearest county seat."

"Winnemucca and Elko are equidistant to one percent. Elko closer by ETA as I am now vectored eleven degrees north of Elko bearing."

"Deety, would you like to be married in Elko?"

"Zebadiah, I would love to be married in Elko."

"Elko it is, but loving may have to wait. Gay, vector for Elko and ground us, normal private cruising speed. Report ETA in elapsed minutes."

"Roger Wilco, Elko. Nine minutes seventeen seconds."

Hilda said soothingly, "There, there, Jake darling; Mama is here"-then added in her top sergeant voice, "Quit stalling, Zebbie! What 'Thing' in which basement?"

"Sharpie, you're nosy. It belonged to Pop and now it's destroyed and that's all you need to know."

"Oh, but it wasn't," Doctor Burroughs said. "Zeb is speaking of my continua craft, Hilda. It's safe. Not in Logan."

"What in the Name of the Dog is a 'continua craft'?"

"Pop means," Deety explained, "his time machine."

"Then why didn't he say so? Everybody savvies 'Time Machine.' George Pal's 'Time Machine'-a classic goodie. I've caught it on the late-late-early show more than once."

"Sharpie," I asked, "can you read?"

"Certainly I can read! 'Run, Spot, run, See Spot run.' Smarty."

"Have you ever heard of H. G. Wells?"

"Heard of him? I've had him."

"You are a boastful old tart, but not that old. When Mr. Wells died, you were still a virgin."

"Slanderer! Hit him, Jake-he insulted me."

"Zeb didn't mean to insult you, I feel sure. Deety won't permit me to hit people, even when they need it."

"We'll change that."

"Second retrieval complete," Gay Deceiver reported. "Holding."

"Report second retrieval, please."

"Reuters, Singapore. The Marston expedition in Sumatra is still unreported according to authorities at Palembang. The party is thirteen days overdue. Besides Professor Marston and native guides and assistants, the party included Doctor Z.E. Carter, Doctor Cecil Yang, and Mr. Giles Smythe-Belisha. The Minister of Tourism and Culture stated that the search will be pursued assiduously. End of retrieval."

Poor Ed. We had never been close but he had never caused me grief. I hoped that he was shacked up with something soft and sultry-rather than losing his head to a jungle machete, which seemed more likely. "Pop, a few minutes ago I said that somebody doesn't like you. I now suspect that somebody doesn't like n-dimensional geometers."

"It would seem so, Zeb. I do hope your cousin is safe-a most brilliant mind! He would be a great loss to all mankind."

(And to himself, I added mentally. And me, since family duty required that I do something about it. When what I had in mind was a honeymoon.) "Gay."

"Here, Zeb."

"Addendum. Third news retrieval program. Use all parameters second program. Add Sumatra to area. Add all proper names and titles found in second retrieval. Run until canceled. Place retrievals in permanent memory. Report new items soonest. Start."

"Running, Boss."

"You're a good girl, Gay."

"Thank you, Zeb. Grounding Elko two minutes seven seconds."

Deety squeezed my hand harder. "Pop, as soon as I'm legally Mrs. John Carter I think we should all go to Snug Harbor."

"Eh? Obviously."

"You, too, Aunt Hilda. It might not be safe for you to go home."

"Change in plans, dear. It's going to be a double wedding. Jake. Me."

Deety looked alert but not displeased. "Pop?"

"Hilda has at last consented to marry me, dear."

"Rats," said Sharpie. "Jake has never asked me in the past and didn't this time; I simply told him. Hit him with it while he was upset over losing his comic books and unable to defend himself. It's necessary, Deety-I promised Jane I would take care of Jake and I have-through you, up to now. But from here on you'll be taking care of Zebbie, keeping him out of trouble, wiping his nose... so I've got to hogtie Jake into marriage to keep my promise to Jane. Instead of sneaking into his bed from time to time as in the past."

"Why, Hilda dear, you have never been in my bed!"

"Don't shame me in front of the children, Jake. I gave you a test run before I let Jane marry you and you don't dare deny it."

Jake shrugged helplessly. "As you wish, dear Hilda."

"Aunt Hilda....o you love Pop?" -

"Would I marry him if I didn't? I could carry out my promise to Jane more simply by having him committed to a shrink factory. Deety, I've loved Jake longer than you have. Much! But he loved Jane... which shows that he is basically rational despite his weird ways. I shan't try to change him, Deety; I'm simply going to see to it that he wears his overshoes and takes his vitamins-as you've been doing. I'll still be 'Aunt Hilda,' not 'Mother.' Jane was and is your mother."

"Thank you, Aunt Hilda. I thought I was happy as a woman can be, getting Zebadiah. But you've made me still happier. No worries."

(I had worries. Blokes with Black Hats and no faces. But I didn't say so, as Deety was snuggling closer and assuring me that it was all right because Aunt Hilda wouldn't fib about loving Pop... but I should ignore that guff about her sneaking into Pop's bed-on which I had no opinion and less interest.) "Deety, where and what is 'Snug Harbor'?"

"It's... a nowhere place. A hideout. Land Pop leased from the government when he decided to build his time twister instead of just writing equations. But we may have to wait for daylight. Unless- Can Gay Deceiver home on a given latitude and longitude?"

"She certainly can! Precisely."

"Then it's all right. I can give it to you in degrees, minutes, and fractions of a second."

"Grounding," Gay warned us.

The Elko County Clerk did not object to getting out of bed and seemed pleased with the century note I slipped him. The County Judge was just as accommodating and pocketed her honorarium without glancing at it. I stammered but managed to say, "I, Zebadiah John, take thee, Dejah Thoris-" Deety went through it as solemnly and perfectly as if she had rehearsed it... while Hilda sniffled throughout.

A good thing that Gay can home on a pin point; I was in no shape to drive even in daylight. I had her plan her route, too, a dogleg for minimum radar and no coverage at all for the last hundred-odd kilometers to this place in the Arizona Strip north of the Grand Canyon. But I had her hover before grounding-I being scared silly until I was certain there was not a third fire there.

A cabin, fireproof, with underground parking for Gay-I relaxed.

We split a bottle of chablis. Pop seemed about to head for the basement. Sharpie tromped on it and Deety ignored it.

I carried Deety over the threshold into her bedroom, put her gently down, faced her. "Dejah Thoris-"

"Yes, John Carter?"

"I did not have time to buy you a wedding present-"

"I need no present from my captain."

"Hear me out, my princess. My Uncle Zamir did not have as fine a collection as your father had... but may I gift you with a complete set of Clayton Astoundings-"

She suddenly smiled.

"-and first editions of the first six Oz books, quite worn but with the original color plates? And a first in almost mint condition of 'A Princess of Mars'?"

The smile became a grin and she looked nine years old. 'Yes!"

"Would your father accept a complete set of Weird Tales?"

"Would he! Northwest Smithand Jirel of Joiry? I'm going to borrow them- or he can't look at my Oz books. I'm stubborn, I am. And selfish. And mean!"

"'Stubborn' stipulated. The others denied."

Deety stuck out her tongue. "You'll find out." Suddenly her face was solemn. "But I sorrow, my prince, that I have no present for my husband."

"But you haveI"

"I do?"

"Yes. Beautifully wrapped and making me dizzy with heavenly fragrance."

"Oh." She looked solemn but serenely happy. "Will my husband unwrap me? Please?"

I did.

That is all anyone is ever going to know about our wedding night.