Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

Baths- In the stream and cold! Same rules as for bushes: armed guards. Soap thoroughly on the bank, get in and rinse fast, bounce out and towel till you glowed. Primitive? Luxurious!

This did not go smoothly. Take the "handy bush" problem. I did not have to be told that a latrine should be downstream or that our shovel should be carried every time without fail-rules for a clean camp are as old as the Old Testment.

But my first order called for no more than two and no less than two to leave the car at any time, and one must be armed-the other rifle and pistol must guard Gay.

I blurted out that order when the truth landed on me like a load of bricks that I, the runt who had never grown up, was now responsible for the lives of four people. At the time my orders seemed not only logical but necessary and feasible: Jacob would guard me, Zebbie would guard Deety, our men would guard each other.

There was a flaw. I did not realize that my edict required: a) one rifleman always to be at the car; b) both men to be away from the car from time to time.

Since this is not possible I amended it: When the men had to answer calls of nature, we women would lock ourselves in. I didn't know that this planet had anything more dangerous than Alice's Bread-and-Butter Fly. But that was the point: I didn't know and until I did, I must assume that something as dangerous as a tiger lurked behind every bush.

Heavens! the bush might be carnivorous.

I was learning, with breath-snatching speed, something that most people never learn: A commanding officer's "unlimited" authority isn't freedom; it's a straitjacket. She can't do as she pleases; she never can-because every minute, awake and asleep, she must protect those under her command.

She can't take any avoidable risk herself; her life does not belong to her; it belongs to her command.

When the captaincy was thrust on me, I decided that we would stay where we were until Gay Deceiver was reorganized so that all four of us could sleep comfortably and safely-no swollen ankles.

Sharpie hadn't thought of this; Captain Hilda Burroughs thought of it at once. Captain Zebbie had thought of it when we first grounded, then had let himself be overruled.

I knew that I could rearrange the car to let us all sleep behind locked doors. But it would take time, sweat, and muscles, and I had just proclaimed an order that would take one or both sets of big muscles off the job for... how many times a day? Four people? Such needs can't be hurried. I had a horrid suspicion that having someone standing over you with a rifle, even your nearest and dearest, might cause a healthy reflex to fail.

What to do?

Cancel the order?

No!

Cancel if a better scheme turned up. But don't cancel without finding some-

thing better. This was a pretty spot, but there still might be that "banth." Or bandersnatch. Or boojum. Especially a boojum. What if Zebbie should wander off that distance dictated by modesty and/or relaxation of nerves....nd "softly and silently vanish away"?

And it was Zebbie I was having trouble wit h-Zebbie, who wasn't going to give the new captain any back talk whatsoever. "Cap'n Hilda honey, I don't need a chaperon, honest. I'll carry my rifle and guard myself. No problem. Safety off and a cartridge under the firing pin. Promise."

"Zebbie, I am not asking you, I am telling you."

"But I don't like to leave you girls unguarded!"

"Chief Pilot."

"Ma'am. Captain."

"I am not a girl. I am eleven years your senior."

"I simply meant-"

"Pipe down!"

The poor dear's ears turned red but he shut up. I said, "Astrogator!"

"Huh? Yes, Captain Auntie."

"Can you use a rifle?"

"Oh, sure, Pop made me learn. But I don't like a rifle; I like my shotgun." "Take the Chief Pilot's rifle and guard the camp-"

"Look, I can do it better with my shotgun."

"Pipe down and carry out your orders."

Deety looked startled, trotted over to Zebbie, who surrendered his rifle without comment, face frozen. "Copilot," I said to my husband, "arm yourself with rifle and pistol, go with the Chief Pilot, guard him while he does what he has to do."

Zebbie swallowed. "Sharpie-I mean 'Captain Sharpie.' It won't be necessary. The golden moment has passed. All this talk."

"Chief Pilot, please refrain from using my nickname while I am your commanding officer. Copilot, carry out your orders. Remain with the Chief Pilot and guard him continuously as long as necessary to accomplish the purpose of the trip." (If Zebbie meant "constipation"-an emotional to-do can have that effect-I would act later in my capacity as "medical officer"-and it would not take four husky orderlies to make Zebbie hold still. The authority of a commanding officer almost never requires force. Odd but true-I wondered how I knew that.)

Once our men were out of earshot, I said, "Deety, could I learn to shoot that rifle?"

"I'm not sure I'm speaking to you. You humiliated my husband... when we all owe him so much."

"Astrogator!"

Deety's eyes got wide. "Good God-it's gone to your head!"

"Astrogator."

"Uh... yes, Captain."

"You will refrain from personal remarks to me or about me during my

tenure as commanding officer. Acknowledge that order, then log it."

Deety's face assumed the expression that means that she has shut out the world. "Aye aye, Captain. Gay Deceiver!"

"Hello, Deety!"

"Log mode. The Captain has ordered the Astrogator to refrain from personal remarks to her or about her during her tenure as commanding officer. I acknowledge receipt of order and will comply. Log date, time, and Bingo code. I tell you three times."

"Deety, I hear you three times."

"Back to sleep, Gay."

"Roger and out."

Deety turned to me, face and voice normal again. "Captain, I can teach you to shoot in such a way that you won't get a sore shoulder or be knocked down. But to become a good shot with a rifle takes a long time. My shotgun doesn't kick as hard... and you won't need skill."

"I thought a shotgun was more difficult."

"Depends. A shotgun is usually for surprise targets in the air. That takes skill. But for a stationary target-within range-it's about like a garden hose. The shot spreads in a cone. So easy that it's not sporting."

"Not sporting' suits me. Will you show me how? What kind of target do we need?"

"It ought to be a large sheet of paper to show how the shot spreads. But, Captain, you know what will happen if I fire a gun?"

"What?"

"We will have two men back here at a dead run-one of them trying to dress as he runs. I don't think he'll be pleased."

"Meaning I shouldn't get Zebbie angry twice in ten minutes."

"It might be your husband. Stands to reason that they'll both take care of needs before returning. If I fire a shot, I'd better have a dead body to show for it, or one or the other will blow his top. Or both."

"Both! Thanks, Deety-I didn't think it through."

"But also, the Captain will recall that she ordered me to guard camp. I can't teach shooting at the same time."

(Sharpie, can't you do anything right?) "No, of course you can't! Deety, I'm off to a bad start. All of you annoyed at me and one, maybe two, really angry."

"Does the Captain expect me to comment?"

"Deety, can't you call me 'Aunt flilda'?" I wasn't crying-I've trained myself not to. But I needed to. "Yes, I want your comment."

"Captain Aunt Hilda, I need to call you by your title to keep myself reminded that you are captain. Since you ordered me to refrain from personal remarks to you or about you, I needed a second order before I could comment."

"As bad as that? Don't spare me but make it quick."

"The Captain hasn't done badly."

"I haven't? Deety, don't fib to Hilda; you never used to."

"And I'm not going to now. Captain, I think you are off to a good start."