Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

'i intend to nominate you, Zebadiah," Libby told me. "All four of you. And I hope you four accept. But, Deety twin, you know what I'm attempting. With your father."

"Yes, I know. I'm cheering for it."

"Your husband must hear this. Deety, I still have that Y chromosome in every cell even though it has been so inhibited by hormone balance that I don't notice it. You and I could try for a mathematical-genius baby, too."

"Huh! Which one of us supplies the penis?"

"Ishtar does. Neither of us would be host-mother, the way it would be done. But any of my sister-wives would supply womb room if she didn't happen to be pregnant. Or the host-mother could be a stranger we would never meet and the child's family-parents strangers, too-all handled by Ishtar who always reads the relevant genetic charts before approving anything."

"Zebadiah?"

I said without hesitation, "It's up to you, hon. I'm in favor of it; it makes sense. But don't lose track of the child. Elizabeth, I want to adopt the baby ahead of time. Hmm- Bottle baby... but the formulas are probably better now. Not here-now. Tertius there-then-now."

"Bottle baby'? Oh! No longer done; a baby needs to suckle. But there is usually spare milk around the Longs'. If I'm lactating I always have excess; I turn out to be a good milch cow despite that extra chromosome. But Deety can nurse our child if she wishes to; causing a woman to come fresh with milk without bearing a child is a minor biochemical manipulation today-Tertiantoday. Professional wet nurses do it regularly and are likely to be in that vocation because they love babies but can't have 'em themselves for some reason."

"Sounds good." (What sounded best was this: a baby Deety is a wonderful idea-but a baby Deety who is also a baby Libby is sure to be wonderful squared. Cubed!)

"While I'm on this and no one here but family-Jacob, there is no reason not to create a third mathematical supergenius by crossing you with your daughter."

I was looking at my wife, thinking pleasant thoughts about baby DeetyLibby, when Elizabeth dropped this bomb-and Deety shut down her face. It's not an unpleasant expression; it's a no-expression, a closed door, while Deety sorts out her thoughts.

So I looked at Jake, in time to see his face shift from surprise to shock. "But that's-"

"Incest?" Libby supplied. "No, Jacob, incest is a social matter. Whether you bed your daughter is none of my business. I'm speaking of genes, of still another way to conserve mathematical genius. Ishtar would scan your charts most carefully and would resort to chromosome surgery if there was the slightest chance of double dosage of a bad allele. But you and your daughter could see

Ishtar on different days and never know anything about the outcome. Your genes are not your property; they come from your race. This offers opportunity to give them back to the race with your highest talent reinforced... without loss to anyone. Think about it."

Jake looked at me, then at his daughter. "Deety?"

She added no-expression voice to no-expression face-but directed her answer to me: "Zebadiah, this is necessarily up to you and Jacob." I'm not sure that anyone but Sharpie noticed that she had not said "Pop."

Deety added at once with total change in manner, "First things first! Maureen's rescue. All of you are stuck in a rut of time sequence. Oh, the minor problem of keeping clear of Dora and the missile both times. Routine." (And I was hit by a satori.)

Lazarus answered, "But Deety, I promised Dora never again to take her anywhere near Albuquerque."

Deety sighed. "Lib?"

"Frames one-thirteen through seven-seven-two, then seven-seven-three through one thousand and two?"

"Precisely. And precisely it must be, too. I'm timing it by that yellow open roadable approaching from the other direction. What are you using?"

"The same one. Easy to spot and its speed never varies."

Lazarus said, "Jake, do you know what they are saying?"

"Yes and no. They are treating it as two problems. But we lack three seconds of time enough to dump one and snatch the other. Those-traffic lights, you called them?-leave that intersection clear by a measured interval, clocked by your camera."

Sharpie suddenly grinned; I nodded to her to take it. She did. "Deety and Libby are saying that we do it twice. First, we rescue Maureen. Then we come back and dump the corpse."

I added, "But the second time we don't ground. Jake, I'm going to ask you to move over-Deety moves to my seat. We'll dump the dead meat so that it hits the ground between frames seven-seven-two and seven-seven-three. I'll be on manual and hovering. I need to know where Dora is and where that missile is and need to be sure of the acceleration of gravity, Earth-Prime. Because that corpse will already be falling, right over our heads, while we are making the snatch. Close timing. Mmm-Gay can fly herself more precisely than I can. I think that Deety and I will write a program... then I'll be on override-suspenders and belt."

Jake added, "Zeb, I see the procedure. But, if we are hovering for the drop while we are also on the ground, why aren't we shown in the photographs?"

"May be in some of them. Doesn't matter. Deety, when do we do this? Cancel. Sharpie? Your orders, Captain?"

Deety and Sharpie swapped glances. Then they sounded like Laz-Lor, with Sharpie leading. "Now to bed. It's almost midnight in our biological time, slightly later in local time."

"We do both jobs after breakfast," Deety responded. "But sleep as late as we can. Be sharp and on our toes. 'Minds me. Just one 'fresher, quite primitive.

But the two in Gay are as available here as anywhere; since they are actually in Oz. Six people, three pots, not difficult."

"And three beds," added Sharpie. "Jacob, kiss us goodnight and take Lib to bed. Master bedroom and good luck! Use my toothbrush, Lib hon-anything else you need?"

"No. A good cry, maybe. I love you, Hilda."

"If I didn't love you, Elizabeth, I wouldn't be Madam of this joint. We'll cry together the day Ishtar tells us you've caught. Now shoosh! Scat! Kiss us and go to bed."

As they headed upstairs Sharpie said to me, "Zebbie, give Deety a preamnesty so that she can try out Lazarus and find out whether she wants to be junior wife."

I tried to look amazed. "Deety, haven't you tried Lazarus yet?"

"You know darn well I haven't! When have I had time?"

"From a woman who specializes in programming time machines that is a silly question. Lazarus, she's already knocked up, so don't fret about it. One warning: She bites."

"The best ones always do."

"Hush. Kiss us good-night, dears. Zebbie, open the couch in the living room; that's where you're going to keep me warm."

"But who's going to keep me warm? A skinny little runt like you?"

Sharpie bites.

A Stitch in Time

Jake:

We popped out one klick H-above-G over Albuquerque, Earth-Prime, and Gay tilted her nose down. A last-minute change put my daughter Deety at copilot, while I sat left rear, nominal navigator. Deety can use verniers as accurately as I, did not expect to use them at all, did need to be able to see the yellow roadable-and has this clock in her head.

Elizabeth Long was in the after compartment, strapped down but not on lumps of ordnance. Rifles, pistols, bed clothes for the control compartment, anything else that could be moved easily to reduce clutter, had been shifted into our space warp, as had Lazarus Long.

Doctor Ishtar had warned Lazarus not to let his mother recognize him, as the shock to her might be harmful, even fatal. While Lazarus had been trying to figure out how to make the snatch using Dora, he had planned on wearing disguise. But hiding in our Land-of-Oz addition was simpler-especially as Ishtar was almost as anxious that Lazarus not see his mother, not see his mother's pseudo corpse-this I learned from Elizabeth in the night.