Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

She held pose while that march concluded, then, in the sudden silence, held out her arms and called: "Theodore!"

"Corporal Bronson" fainted.

"There are no tomorrows."

Zeb:

Sharpie shouldn't have done it to Lazarus. For a veteran of sixteen wars and Koshchei alone knows how many skirmishes and narrow escapes to be

placed in a position where he is so shocked that blood drains from his head and he collapses "ain't fitten."

Deety agrees but asks me if I could have refrained from staging Mama Maureen's return that way, given the chance? Well, no, had I Sharpie's imagination-but it still would not have been "fitten."

Not that he was hurt by it. Sharpie, all forty-three kilos of her, checked his fall. She was watching Lazarus, saw him start to collapse, closed the gap and grabbed him around the waist, did her best.

Sharpie saved him from hitting his head on the wardroom table. I would bet long odds that everyone was looking at Maureen except Sharpie. Sharpie had staged it-and the producer was interested in the effect on the one for whom it had been staged.

She had staged it even to the extent of getting Libby to ask Ishtar to obtain costume-shoes, hose, and round green garters to match a photograph, plus a hooded cape to keep our ubiquitous snoop Dora from knowing that we had an extra aboard. Sharpie had figured this way: that "French photo" snapshot of Mama Maureen (yeah, I call her that too-she's the most motherly person in any world... and the sexiest. Don't mention the last to Deety) (Deety knows it- !)ee/y)-that snapshot was still in existence unless destroyed by machinegun fire in 1918, Earth-Prime.

Which it would not be... because Lazarus "got his arse shot off" as his sisters describe it. Not literally true, it was a belly wound more than bullets in his arse that came that close to finishing him. But all the wounds were low.

Where does a man in combat carry his most cherished possessions? In a breast pocket, usually the left one. I always have and I've never heard a veteran deny this.

It might be worth it to faint in order to wake up surrounded by Maureen, Hilda, Laz-Lor, Elizabeth, and my own reason for being. Jake and I could have played several hands of gin before anyone bothered with us. So I asked Dora for drinks and snacks for Jake and me, as it seemed uncertain as to when dinner would be served. Or if.

I heard Sharpie say, "Maureen, we must get this heavy uniform off him. Dora keeps this ship tropical. I should never have ordered uniforms for men while we women are comfortable." They started peeling him.

I said, "Jake, school's out." I had sweated through my number-one uniform- might never wear it again but I'm sentimental about it. Jake was in as bad shape. Once you get happy with skin any clothes make you feel like Rameses

II.

We peeled down and handed our clothes and swords to one of Dora's waldoes and told her to hand them to Gay-including Jake's pistol, belt, and holster, which I retrieved without anyone noticing me. Jake and I were Chinese stage hands; "Corporal Ted Bronson" was getting all the attention.

Dora pointed out that Gay was locked. I said, "If one of her doors were open, could you lay this gear on a seat?" Yes, she could. "Then do it," I said. "Let me talk to Gay."

We eventually had dinner, with everybody "formal" but Maureen. She retained her "casual" clothing long after everyone else was in formal skin. But not until I got pix of the Four Disgraces. Libby and Deety wanted to go shower, too, when Jake and I decided that, having discarded uniforms, we should shower in fairness to Dora's airconditioning. I asked them and Laz-Lor please to wait until I staggered down (we had encountered a force-four sea, with white caps) to Gay for Jake's Polaroid.

Turned out not to be necessary; Dora could take color and 3-D, still or motion, any angle, and light as needed, just as she had lighted the posing (which she had photographed, too, I learned later).

Maureen and Jake directed while "Corporal Bronson" and I sprawled Nerostyle on lounges intended for Lib and Deety. Sharpie sat between us and dropped grapes into our mouths.

Jake tried to make the poses "artistic." Mama Maureen agreed with everything Jake said, then did it her way. The results may have been artistic. But I know that those pix would give a skeleton one last case of raging tumescence.

Meanwhile Dora was singing and playing, urging us to eat-tasty tidbits eaten with tongs; I was reminded of the best in Oriental cuisines-and plying us with fine wines. Dora seemed to have a vast repertoire, some of which (to my surprise) was familiar. When Judy Garland sings Over the Rainbow, who

can miss it?-Dora used Judy's voice. I recall, too, Enjoy Yourself; It's Later Than You Think. Most of them I did not know.

Dora announced Tomorrow's Song-I thought that was what she said. Lazarus and Maureen held hands all through it and it was not a song that would fit the title I thought I had heard. I got straightened out when the song ended to dead silence and Maureen said to Lazarus, "Theodcrre, Ishtar was going to rearrange the watch list but Tamara vetoed it. She did it for you, dear man, and for me-but Tamara is anxious to see you."

"Tamara always knows what she's doing," Lazarus answered.

"Yes, Tammy always knows what is best," agreed Mama Maureen. "Tell me, Theodore, do I still make you think of her?"

Lazarus looked upset. "Uh, I don't know. You don't look like her....ut you feel like her. And you look more like Nancy than you look like yourself."

"Yes, I know. None of our family was willing to wait; you've been away from home too long. Be patient, and when I look like me to your eyes, tell us, and Galahad will hold my cosmetic age at that. Are you going to do as you promised me, so long ago, take Tammy and me to bed together? Perhaps I should add, Theodore, I am now wife to your co-husbands. I don't ask that you marry me. Although I think Tammy will be shocked if you don't. But I shan't make it difficult, either way. I will hold to any pretence you wish. I did for Brian; I shall for you."

Maureen was neither shouting nor whispering; she was simply bringing him up to date on things he needed to know. Lazarus started to answer, his expression oddly mixed, when Elizabeth cut in: "Lazarus-"

"Eh? What, Lib?"

"Message to you from Ishtar. To be delivered when needed, and now is the time. Ish read both your charts with her computer set for maximum pessimism. She also had them read at New Rome without identification other than her own file numbers. She has this message for you....n answer to the answer you will make. She says to tell you that you are an uncivilized primitive, ignorant of science, especially genetics, oversentimental, almost pathologically stubborn, retarded, probably senile, superstitious, and provincial....nd that she loves you dearly but will not permit you to make decisions in her area of authority. In vitro or in utero, the cross will take place. Let me add that Maureen was not given a choice, either."

"So? You can tell the big-arsed bitch that I agree with every word she says, especially the part about 'senile,' and that I gave up all hope of arguing with her tyrannical ways fifty years ago and that I love her just as dearly-outside her clinic-and that Maureen will tell her how such things will be handled; I don't have a vote." He turned toward me, looking past Sharpie's pretty toes. "Zeb, here is the wisdom of the ages: Men rule but women decide."

"Elizabeth, do you think I am anything like Tamara?"

"Mmm- Never thought about it. Yes, you both have that all-mother feeling. Uh, would you mind taking off costume? It distracts me from looking at you."

"No trouble, Elizabeth. I don't like round garters except as advertising."

Mama Maureen kicked off her shoes, took off the garters, carefully rolled down her hose in a manner interuniversal-stood up and stood easily, not posing.