Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

Captain Lor answered, "Certainly we'll be there; we never miss dinner and-"

"-always dress formally and I don't-"

"-mean bare skin. Skin is for working or-"

"-sleeping. But we treat dinner in the Dora as a-"

"-formal party and that calls for the works. Formal evening-"

"-dress and jewelry and cosmetics and perfume and we are about-"

"-to bathe and change, but we can't dress the way you are-"

"-because our dresses are already picked out and-"

"-it's too late to start over!"

I said, "Look, chums, you brought this on yourselves by urging Lib and me to dress this way. Neither of us was enthusiastic but we promised. The Commodore learned what Libby and I expected to wear, and decided that four of us, all about the same size and coloration, would look wonderful in matching green dresses. So Lib and I are to be opposite you two, balancing you, and the men are required to wear uniforms so as not to compete with us four. All clear?"

They got their stupid look which actually is a cover for stubborn determination. Lor said:

"The Captain sends her respects to the Commodore and regrets-"

"Hold it! Does this ship have a lifeboat?"

"Yes," answered Lor, "but-"

"But you are master of this ship. Yes, I know. And I'm gifted with second sight. I see only two viable futures for you. Did you get your pirate flag up in the lounge?"

"Yes, we did, but-"

"If you'll tell me what lifeboat and where, I'll get the flag to you before twenty. I see you starting out in that lifeboat to be pirates. Or I see you at dinner in dresses of any green cloth you can find, cut hastily in this style and pinned together. No jewelry. No cosmetics that show. I don't think you can fake this iridescent stuff but that stick-on transparent wrapping, used instead, would show that you had tried. The Commodore never rejects anyone for

failing; what she despises is not trying. Send your answer via Dora. I can't be your messenger boy; I have work to do before dinner, now only forty-seven minutes away. Will the Captain excuse me?"

I got out fast. I didn't believe for one second that a ship stocked like the Dora, run by identical redheads, could fail to have endless formals in green- including this style or close to it. By now the twins were frantically consulting their brother via Dora, and from what I heard him say to Pop, I thought Lazarus would tell them that it was safer to jump ship and change their names than it would be to tangle with the miniature buzz saw-but if Dora couldn't fake something that would at least show a hard try, he would sell her off as spare parts and install one of those new-model "Susan Calvin" positronic brains that everybody said was the coming thing for smartships.

I said Hello to Gay, then tried to reach under the instrument board and find the catch by touch.

I got out of the car in order to stand up in the ship's passageway and took off my deliciously indecent dress. Then I was able to fold, bend, and staple, to open the stowage. A saber and a sword-no belts. "Gay."

"What, Deety?"

"I'm looking for two sword belts. Category should be personal possessions, miscellaneous, weapons, belts for weapons."

"Deety, they are supposed to be with the sword and saber. Many things were moved into the Land of Oz today; I heard you all talking about it. But no changes were read into my inventory. I'm sorry."

"Smart Girl, it's not your fault. We should have told you."

"Deety, I've rolled the dice. The curve says that the most probable place is on hooks in Sunbonnet Sue's wardrobe."

They were.

I was starting to leave, after telling Gay she was a Smart Girl, when she said, "Deety, your father is calling. Dora has him on hold, through me."

"Thanks, Gay; thanks, Dora. Pop?"

"Deety, are you still in Gay?"

"Just outside the starboard door."

"Can you lay hands on my automatic and the web belt that goes with it?"

"Saw both three minutes ago."

"Will you please remove the clip, check the chamber to be sure it's empty, then bring belt and pistol when you fetch our toadstickers?"

"Anything for a steady customer."

I left with belt and sword slung over one shoulder, saber and belt over the other so that the belts crossed between my teats, and with the web belt with holster and pistol interwoven through the others because it was far too big for my waist. This left my hands free to carry my dress, one hand being almost clean enough.

Pop said: "What took you so long? I promised Lazarus I'd get this stuff to him on time. Now I'm going to have to dogtrot. In Army blues."

I told him I had stopped off at the pool hall and playing off the match game had taken a while. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I have problems, too."

Elizabeth wiped me down with a damp towel, dried and powdered me and drew my eyebrows and touched up my lashes and clucked over me, all in nine minutes, then most carefully put my dress back on me. "Ordinarily one does not take off a washable and put it back on-just wear it until you shower it off. A drop of water will go through this material like acid. Better skip the soup."

Place cards showed us where to dine. But at two minutes before the hour the Hillbilly had not arrived, so we were standing. Laz-Lor came in, sat down- in dresses identical with mine and Lib's, perfect fit, nothing improvised. Their brother spoke quietly to them; they stood up. Lazarus was dressed in a very old-fashioned army uniform, breeches with rolled leggings, a tunic with a stock collar, and Pop's pistol at his side.

All but Pop's stuff looked brand-new; I concluded that Lazarus had had it tailored.

Just as my head ticked twenty o'clock, a bugle (Dora) sounded attention. At least it had that effect on the men and Libby, so I stood straight. Laz-Lor looked at their brother and did so, too.

The wardroom has three steps leading down into it from each of its archway doors, with a little platform at the top so that you don't fall on your face. Pop and Zebadiah marched up those steps, faced each other (and I thought how beautiful Zebadiah looked in dress uniform; I had never seen him in it). Pop snapped, "Draw! Swords!" Instead of coming down, they crossed blades in an arch. Lazarus looked startled and drew pistol, placed it smartly across his chest.

This archway was closed by drapes; we had come in from the other side. A drum and bugle (Dora again) sounded a ruffle-and-flourish; the drapes lifted from both sides-and here was the Hillbilly, standing tall (for her) and straight, with her perfect ice-cream skin gleaming in flood lights against a background of midnight blue. She was so beautiful I choked up.

Dora's invisible band played The Admiral's March as our tiny Commodore marched proudly down the steps toward us. (It could have been The Admiral's March; Pop admitted later that he hummed to Dora the march played for generals and told her to fake it.)

Aunt Hilda did not sit down when she reached the head of the table, she stood near her chair instead. Nor had my father and my husband left their places, they simply brought their swords down. As soon as Hilda stopped and faced in, Pop commanded, "Corporal Bronson! Front and Center!"

Lazarus jerked as if he had been struck, holstered his pistol, marched to the far end, making sharp corners in passing around the wardroom table. He halted, facing Hilda-she may have given him some sign.

Dora hit two bugle notes; Aunt Hilda sang:

"Shipmates, beloved friends, tonight we are greatly honored!"

Four ruffles-and-flourishes, as the drapes lifted and parted, and again lights picked out bare skin, this time against a forest-green backing: Maureen in

opera-length black stockings, green round garters, dark shoes with semi-high heels, her long red hair down her back.

Maureen was not "standing tall"; she was in the oldest and most graceful of sculptor's poses: left knee slightly bent, weight slightly more on her right foot, chest lifted only a little but displaying her full teats, nipples heavily crinkled. Her smile was happy.