Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

"This one couldn't get by very long. Rangers have to take physical examinations."

"This one may be a rush job, prepared just for us. A permanent substitution might fool anything but an x-ray-and might fool even x-ray if the doctor giving the examination was one of Them... a theory you might think about. Zebbie, I must get to work. There is so much to learn and so little time. I can't learn a fraction of what this carcass could tell a real comparative biologist."

"Can I help?" (I was not anxious to.)

"Well-"

"I haven't much to do until Jake and Deety finish assembling the last of what they are going to take. So what can I do to help?"

"I could work twice as fast if you would take pictures. I have to stop to wipe my hands before I touch the camera."

"I'm your boy, Sharpie. Just say what angle, distance, and when."

Hilda looked relieved. "Zebbie, have I told you that I love you despite your gorilla appearance and idiot grin? Underneath you have the soul of a cherub. I want a bath so badly I can taste it-could be the last hot bath in a long time. And the bidet-the acme of civilized decadence. I've been afraid I would still be carving strange meat when Jacob said it was time to leave."

"Carve away, dear; you'll get your bath." I picked up the camera, the one Jake used for record-keeping: a Polaroid Stereo-Instamatic-self-focusing, automatic irising, automatic processing, the perfect camera for engineer or scientist who needs a running record.

I took endless pictures while Hilda sweated away. "Sharpie, doesn't it worry you to work with bare hands? You might catch the Never-Get-Overs."

"Zebbie, if these critters could be killed by our bugs, they would have arrived here with no immunities and died quickly. They didn't. Therefore it seems likely that we can't by hurt by their bugs. Radically different biochemistries."

It sounded logical-but I could not forget Kettering's Law: "Logic is an organized way of going wrong with confidence."

Deety appeared, set down a loaded hamper. "That's the last." She had her hair up in a bath knot and was dressed solely in rubber gloves. "Hi, dearest. Aunt Hilda, I'm ready to help."

"Not much you can do, Deety hon-unless you want to relieve Zebbie."

Deety was staring at the corpse and did not look happy-her nipples were down flat. "Go take a bath!" I told her. "Scram."

"Do I stink that badly?"

"You stink swell, honey girl. But Sharpie pointed out that this may be our last chance at soap and hot water in quite a while. I've promised her that we won't leave for Canopus and points east until she has her bath. So get yours out of the way, then you can help me stow while she gets sanitary."

"All right." Deety backed off and her nipples showed faintly-not rigid but

she was feeling better. My darling keeps her feelings out of her face, mostly- but those pretty pink spigots are barometers of her morale.

"Just a sec, Deety," Hilda added. "This afternoon you said, 'He didn't react!' What did you mean?"

"What I said. Strip in front of a man and he reacts, one way or another. Even if he tries to ignore it, his eyes give him away. But he didn't. Of course he's not a man-but I didn't know that when I tried to distract him."

I said, "But he did notice you, Deety-and that gave me my chance."

"But only the way a dog, or a horse, or any animal, will notice any movement. He noticed but ignored it. No reaction."

"Zebbie, does that remind you of anything?"

"Should it?"

"The first day we were here you told us a story about a 'zaftig co-ed."

"I did?"

"She was flunking math."

"Oh! 'Brainy."

"Yes, Professor N. O'Heret Brain. See any parallel?"

"But 'No Brain' has been on campus for years. Furthermore he turns red in the face. Not a tattoo job."

"I said this one might be a rush job. Would anyone be in a better position to discredit a mathematical theory than the head of the department of mathematics at a very prominent university? Especially if he was familiar with that theory and knew that it was correct?"

"Hey, wait a minute!" put in Deety. "Are you talking about that professor who argued with Pop? The one with the phony invitation? I thought he was just a stooge? Pop says he's a fool."

"He behaves like a pompous old fool," agreed Hilda. "I can't stand him. I plan to do an autopsy on him."

"But he's not dead."

"That can be corrected!" Sharpie said sharply.

"They might fumigate this planet and take it."

Hilda:

By the time I was out of my bath, Jacob, Deety, and Zebbie had Gay Deceiver stowed and lists checked (can opener, cameras, et cetera)-even samples of fluids and tissues from the cadaver, as Zebbie's miracle car had a small refrigerator. Deety wasn't happy about my specimens being in the refrigerator but they were very well packed, layer on layer of plastic wrap, then sealed into a freezer box. Besides, that refrigerator contained mostly camera film, dyna

mite caps, and other noneatables. Food was mostly freeze-dried and sealed in nitrogen, except foods that won't spoil.

We were dog tired. Jacob moved that we sleep, then leave. "Zeb, unless you expect a new attack in the next eight hours, we should rest. I need to be clearheaded in handling verniers. This house is almost a fortress, will be pitch black, and does not radiate any part of the spectrum. They may conclude that we ran for it right after we got their boy-hermaphrodite, I mean; the fake 'ranger'-what do you think?"

"Jake, I wouldn't have been surprised had we been clobbered at any moment. Since they didn't- Well, I don't like to handle Gay when I'm not sharp. More mistakes are made in battle through fatigue than from any other cause. Let's sack 'in. Anybody need a sleeping pill?"

"All I need is a bed. Hilda my love, tonight I sleep on my own side."

I said, "Can't I even cuddle up your back?"

"Promise not to tickle?"

I made a face at my darling. "I promise."

"Zebadiah," Deety said. "I don't want to cuddle; I want to be held... so I'll know I'm safe. For the first time since my twelfth birthday I don't feel sexy."

"Princess, it's settled; we sleep. But I suggest that we be up before daylight. Let's not crowd our luck."

"Sensible," agreed Jacob.

I shrugged. "You men have to pilot; Deety and I are cargo. We can nap in the back seats-if we miss a few universes, what of it? If you've seen one universe, you've seen 'em all. Deety?"

"If it were up to me, I would lam out of here so fast my shoes would be left standing. But Zebadiah has to pilot and Pop has to set verniers... and both are tired and don't want to chance it. But, Zebadiah... don't fret if I rest with my eyes and ears open."

"Huh? Deety-why?"

"Somebody ought to be on watch. It might give us that split-second advantage-split seconds have saved us at least twice. Don't worry, darling; I often skip a night to work a long program under shared time. Doesn't hurt me; a nap next day and I'm ready to bite rattlesnakes. Tell him, Pop."

"That's correct, Zeb, but-"

Zebbie cut him off. "Maybe you gals can split watches and have breakfast ready. Right now I've got to hook up Gay Deceiver so that she can reach me in our bedroom. Deety, I can add a program so that she can listen around the cabin, too. Properly programmed, Gay's the best watch dog of any of us. Will that satisfy you duty-struck little broads?"

Deety said nothing so I kept quiet. Zebbie, frowning, turned back to his car, opened a door and prepared to hook Gay's voice and ears to the three house intercoms. "Want to shift the basement talky-talk to your bedroom, Jake?"

"Good idea," Jacob agreed.

"Wait a half while I ask Gay what she has. Hello, Gay."

"Howdy, Zeb. Wipe off your chin."

"Program. Running new retrievals. Report new items since last report."