The Number of the Beast

XLII

"You're a figment of imagination."

Zeb:

"Hear that, Laz? You're a figment of imagination."

"No, Lor. You are a figment; I'm a fig." (What she said was "fica," and Deety suppressed a giggle. I pinched her and told her in family tap code that she had

a dirty mind-which she ignored, being proud of it rather than otherwise. It was a long time later that I learned that Laz had used a Galacta word-but the ancient pun still applied.)

Jake reiterated patiently, "Laz-Lor, the key point of Commodore Hilda's theory is that we are all equally figments of imagination. 'Reality' thus becomes a null sythbol."

Deety shook her head emphatically. "Stick to geometry, Pop. Or stamp collecting. Leave symbology to symbologists-such as your favorite daughter. I'm real, I am! Smell me."

"No doubt you could use a bath. So could we all; it's been an adrenaline day. But that's the other side of the coin, Deety. 'Imaginary' and 'Real' turn out to be identical. Consider this chow bench. On one level of abstraction it is mathematical equations. At the level just below that it is a swirling nothlngness, with mass-energy a rare event. But on the gross level abstracted by my senses I can place this drink on it with utter confidence that it will not sink through this near vacuum."

My father-in-law matched his words by placing his highball on the snack bench; it sank out of sight.

Jake looked tired. "Not my day. Dora, did you do that?"

"Yes and no, Professor."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"You placed it on a take-away spot and that part of me was on automatic and took it away and sterilized it. I'm sorry, sir, and here's your fresh drink."

It was indeed a busy day. No one had been waiting at our parking berth, but three young women arrived at a dead run while Sharpie was swapping seats with Deety-our brand-new commodore planned to be first to step into her new ship. The starboard door opened; Sharpie stepped out, a dignified procession of one-

-and was hit from three sides by three young women, each managing to laugh and cry at the same time. But Sharpie enjoys everything and her aplomb has never been shaken. She kissed them, let them kiss her, petted them and told them to calm down, everything was all right. "Dears, I never intended to stay away; I simply refused to let the great Lazarus Long put one over on Sharpie. Where is he now?"

"Shut up in the flag cabin, Ma'am. Commodore."

"Captain Lor, lock him up elsewhere; the flag cabin is mine."

"Aye aye, Commodore."

"How long will that take? Seconds, I mean; not hours."

Lor spoke rapidly to Dora in a language I almost understood. I leaned to my right, spoke to my wife. "Spanish. Some sort."

"Italian," Deety answered.

"Will you settle for Latino? No!-I remember now: Galacta. We'll have to learn it. But it sounds easy."

Lor reported, "Flag cabin will be ready for you by the time you reach it, Commodore."

"Very good. I expect to use it primarily as an administration office; flag remains in Gay Deceiver. That is appropriate, since Dora is unarmed whereas Gay Deceiver is an attack ship, an armed privateer-heavily armed, for her size." Sharpie smiled. "A few days ago, in another universe, we destroyed an entire air army. We don't have fancies such as artificial gravity; we belt down and fight in free fall. Gay Deceiver is stripped for speed and armament; Dora is just the opposite. The two complement each other beautifully."

I wondered why Sharpie was blathering-but she always has reasons. I think she reads minds.

I'm certain that Laz-Lor do, with each other. They looked at each other, then:

"The flag of an armed privateer-"

"-is the Skull-and-Cross-Bones-"

"-is it not? Do we take prisoners-"

"-or cut their throats?"

"Which would you rather do? Captain Lor, please do all the talking; these whipsaw conversations are hard to follow. By the way, no more 'midnight mutinies.' Lor, you remain captain until further notice."

Again they looked at each other.

"We like to swap off."

"Calling it 'mutiny' is just a joke."

"No one asked your preferences. My chief of staff and second-in-command of the flagship is the only one who does and must advise me. If you have opinions to offer, see him. Answer my question. Captain Lor."

"We'll do what you order. But our brother who was our father at the time taught us never to kill if we could possibly avoid it while teaching us all sorts of ways to kill and made us practice. When we were growing up we always wanted to be pirates. Then we grew up and decided that it could never be and tried to forget it."

Sharpie said, "I think I'm making you tongue-tied by forcing you to filter it through one set of vocal cords. So cancel that order; you two are unique. We operate just the way Lazarus taught you; so far we have killed only once-to repel an attack on us. That air army- We timed it, caught them with their flying machines on the ground, burned the machines, burned their fuel-and thereby stopped an invasion... without killing anyone. But we are always ready to kill. Lor, that's why I warned you a few minutes ago. It would have broken Gay's heart to have to destroy Dora. Skull-and-Cross-Bones? No way to fly one but, if you want to hang one in the lounge, I grant permission. Why did you decide not to become pirates?"

That same preliminary glance- "Babies-"

"Laz has three, I have four-"

"-because Lor has one pair of twins-"

"-and we try to be pregnant at the same time-" "-and time it to fit our plans-"

"-and Brother's plans if you ever let him out of hack."

"How old are you two? I've been thinking of you as about Deety's age but you can't be. Just one of you answer, please; it's a simple question."

They conferred mentally an unusually long time. At last Captain Lor said slowly, "It isn't quite simple. We will get Dora and Athene to integrate it for us... if data are complete; they may not be. But answering in Old-HomeTerran years and meaning our own biological time, Laz thinks we are about forty-eight and I think we are a couple of years younger. It doesn't matter because Ishtar will tell us when to rejuvenate, which won't be soon, as we aren't yet close to menopause."

"Does it have to be at menopause?"

"Oh, no, just makes it easier and you never have to stop making babies. But Ishtar's mother went years past menopause and had decided to die... and changed her mind and looks younger than we do and has had more babies than we have. This time around, I mean."

"How often do men need it?" Sharpie asked. Jake looked up and said, "I won't need it for another six weeks, Hilda. Maybe seven."

'Shush, dear. Laz-Lor, be careful around my husband. When he's in rut, it takes heavy chains to restrain him. So never mind that question; he doesn't need to know and, for me, it was intellectual curiosity of a biologist. Perhaps it s best to ask Doctor Ishtar."

"Yes, Commodore, that would be best. We aren't biologists; we're ship handlers."

I leaned forward. (Sharpie was keeping us in the car; why I didn't know- then.) "Commodore! I'm required to advise you."

"Yes, Zebbie."

"You are going to need a new chief of staff, a new second-in-command, and a new astrogator because I will be on the binnacle list in a wet pack if you don't have Laz-Lor answer that last one. It is not 'intellectual curiosity' to me."

"Why, Zebbie dear, I have reports that your curve is such that it will be many, many years before you can possibly have other than intellectual interest."

(If it were not for upsetting Jake, I would paddle that pert little arse!)

Deety said, "Hear, hear!" I placed my hand over her mouth and got bitten. Sharpie said, "Captain, we have here another paradox-Doctors Carter and Burroughs, each unreasonably insecure. Elizabeth, you've been a man; give them the male angle."

"Commodore, I wasn't very successful as a male. I simply took antigeria whenever Lazarus did. But I can report his thumb rule."

"Yes?"

"When a man looks at a new and attractive woman and decides that he is too tired, it's time. When he doesn't even look, push him over and bury him; he's failed to notice that he's dead."

The ship's computer said something in that not-Spanish; Sharpie answered, "Graz, Dora. I'll come now."

Lor said, "Ma'am, we didn't know you knew Galacta."

"I don't. But I will a week from now. I knew what I would say in your position, and you said it; I could tell from cognates. You told Dora to get him out pronto, because the Doña was on her way. Then get his personal belongings when I would not be inconvenienced, So I stalled. Zebbie, will you come with me? Jacob dearest, will you decide whether or not we should give up our suite with the Carters? And what to move out of Gay? We will be in Dora at least a week, possibly longer."

"Commodore, we depart for Tertius tomorrow midday, ship's time."

"I do not recall ordering that, Captain Lor."

The twins looked at each other-and said nothing.

Sharpie patted Laz's cheek. "Don't look so thunderstruck, girls"-girls?-seven years or so Sharpie's senior and seven babies between them-"On reaching Tertius, place us in orbit, following local rules. But no messages from ship to ground unless approved by me in writing. Come now!"

As Sharpie left with me in tow, she told Deety that she was on her own but please get out Jacob's Army blues and my Aerospace dress, and ask Dora about cleaning and pressing.

Jake said, "Hey!" before I could, and Sharpie said, reasonably, "I won't put you into a long skirt, sweetheart; you would feel that I had coerced you into drag. I thought perhaps you two were bored with civilian dress-and I shall continue the custom concerning dressing for dinner-either formal dress or formal skin Nofhin~i ii, hefw~pn

Upon reaching flag cabin Sharpie dismissed Laz-Lor, waited until we were private, then clung to me. "Hold me, Zebbie. Hold me tight! Calm me down." The little thing was shaking.

"Maybe I had better get Jake," I suggested, while holding her and petting her gently-and solving aerodynamic empiricals in my head to keep from noticing how much skin such a tiny woman can spread over one.

"No, Zebbie. Jacob would fuss over me like a mother hen and give me advice I don't want. Either I boss this job without my husband telling me what to do....r I can't cut it. If I fail, I will fail on my own-not as Jacob's puppet. But I can cry on you and tell you things I wouldn't tell my own toothbrush."

She added, "When I send you out, find Jake and have him teach school to everybody. That'll keep him busy and happy and out of my hair. And everybody else, too. Have both computers record his lectures."

"Lectures on what?"

"Oh. Too many details. The plenum of universes and the Number of the Beast. Pantheistic multiple solipsism, or why the Land of Oz is real. The quantum mechanics of fairy tales. Even the care and feeding of Black Hats. He'll probably want to take people into Gay....ut you must be present; don't delegate it. Jacob can go along and lecture but it's Zebbie's sharp eye that will see to it that nothing is touched."

She patted my chest. "You're such a comfort. Now I'm going to dig out this ship's papers and you're going to help because I don't know what to expect. Or where to find them. Certificate of ownership, I suppose, and registration, and ship's manifest whatever that is. What else and where should I look?"

"A log. Crew list, passenger list. Health inspection, maybe. Other inspections. Bureaucracy and red tape tend to follow the same patterns everywhere. Maybe no paper papers; that looks like a computer printout over there. Mmm- Insist on English; the originals are almost certainly in Galacta."

"I'll try it. Dora."

"Listening, Commodore Hilda."

"Print for me, in English, the ship's official papers. Ownership, registration, manifests, and so forth. You know the list. Retrieve soonest."

"I am not authorized to do this, Ma'am."

"Not authorized' by whom?"

The computer did not answer. Sharpie said, "Stick around, Zebbie; there's going to be trouble. Do you have any weapons?"

~'Where? Look at me. How?"

"I don't know but you're clever about such things. Dora!"

"Your orders, Commodore?"

"Get me Captain Lor! In person, not voice. I want her here on a dead run- right now! Out!"

(I did have a weapon. I had palmed an item as I left Gay. But never admit a holdout.)

Laz-Lor arrived, breathing hard, seconds later. "You sent for us, Ma'am?"

"I sent for Captain Lor; I did not send for Laz. Out. Pronto!"

Laz had her mouth open to speak. She got out so fast the door was only Partly ~ ~ ~

'Dora! Repeat to Captain Lor every word that you've heard, every word you've said, since I entered this cabin."

The computer started with Sharpie telling Laz-Lor they could leave... then surprised me with: 'Hold me, Zebbie. Hold me tight. Calm me down."

I started to speak, Sharpie shook her head. Dora droned on, right through Hilda's order to repeat back all the computer had heard or said since we came

in.

The computer stopped; Sharpie said, "Dora, you told me this morning that you could not scan in here without permission."

"That is correct, Ma'am."

"Who gave you permission?"

The computer did not answer.

"Captain Lor, did you or your sister tell this computer to spy on me and to refuse to answer certain questions?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Then it's your brother Lazarus. Don't bother to lie; I didn't ask, I told you. Fetch your brother to me, under arrest. Move!"