Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

"Report readiness for space. Astrogator."

"Ready!" I snapped, trying to sound efficient. "Belt tight."

"Chief Pilot."

"Belt fastened. Portside door locked, seal checked. Juice zero point sevenone. Wings subsonic full. Wheels down and locked. Car trimmed assuming passenger at six-six kilos."

"General, is that your mass?"

"Dear me! I think in nrn]nds. Th~ f~thr is-"

I interrupted. "I'll take it in pounds here or pounds London."

"I weigh myself each morning and I have had the scale recalibrated. Eh, with these boots, one hundred forty-five pounds I dare say."

"Correct to three significant figures, Zebadiah." (I did not mention that weight bearing on each wheel shows on the instrument board. Let Bertie think my husband a magician; he's a wizard to me.)

"Thank you, Astrogator. Car is trimmed, Captain."

"Copilot."

"Belt fastened. Door seal checked. Continua device ready."

"Passenger," said Cap'n Auntie.

"Eh? What should a passenger report?"

"Principally that your belt is secure, but I saw to that myself." (By using a web belt from our sleeping bag to link Hilda's seat belt to mine.) "I must ask one question," Aunt Hilda went on: "Are you subject to motion sickness? The Channel can be rough and so can the Straits of Dover. Did mal de mer ever hit you?"

"Oh, I'll be right. Short flight and all that."

"One Bonine, Deety. General, Admiral Lord Nelson was seasick all his life. My husband and I are susceptible; we took our pills earlier today. Deety and Zebbie are the horrid sort who eat greasy sandwiches during a typhoon and laugh at the dying-"

"I don't laugh!" I protested.

"But these pills enable us to laugh right back. Is this not so, Jacob?"

"Bertie, they work; you'd be a fool not to take one."

"I must add," Captain Auntie said sweetly, "that if you refuse, we will not lift."

Bertie took it. I told him, "Chew it and swallow it; don't hide it in your cheek. Captain, I think that does it."

"Except that we are crowded. General, would you be more comfortable if you put an arm around each of us?"

The General did not refuse. It occurs to me that "take him for a ride" has several meanings. Captain Auntie has more twists than a belly dancer.

"Routine has been broken. Confirm readiness, please." We reported while I snuggled into a firm male arm, realized that it was a pleasant contrast after getting used to my lovely giant.

"Gay Bounce."

Bertie gasped and tightened his arms around us. Aunt Hilda said quietly, "Astrogator, take the conn. Schedule as I discussed it. Don't hesitate to vary it. All of us-you, too, General-may suggest variations. This is a joy ride; let's enjoy it."

But she had told me earlier: "If I don't like a suggestion, I will suggest that we do it later-but time will run out. The General told Lady Herbert:

"I can go down to the end of the town

"And be back in time for tea!"-so we will fetch him back on time. Sixteenfifteen local, four-fifteen pip emma. What's Greenwich?"

I converted it (GMT 12:44) and told Captain Hillbilly that I would watch both board and the clock in my head but was ordered to nlace an alert with

Gay. If Aunt Hilda were a man, she would wear both suspenders and belt. No, that's wrong; for herself she's go-for-broke; for other people she is supercautious.

We lifted at 15:30 local and took Bertie for a mixed ride-Aunt Hilda had told me that Pop was feeling left out. "Gay Bounce, Gay Bounce. Chief Pilot, place us over the big Russian city at about a thousand klicks."

"Roger Wilco," my husband affirmed. "Copilot, one jump or two?"

"One. Level? Keep 'er so. Six thousand thirty klicks, true bearing two-seventhree, offset L axis negative oh-seven-four-set!"-and I shuddered; Pop had set to take us through the planet!

"Execute! Bertie, what is the name of that city?"

"Eh? Zeb, I am quite bewildered!" Pop and Gay and Zebadiah, working together, displayed features simultaneously on the planet in front of us and on the sillyscope on the board. Pop bounced Gay around in ways I didn't know could be done. Zebadiah had Gay rotate the display so that the point on Marsten opposite us was always the center of the display with scale according to H-above-G.

I learned a lot. The Russians claim the whole planet but their occupied area closely matches what we had bingo-mapped. Bertie pointed out a bit more Tsarist area; Gay changed the displayed locus to Zebadiah's interpretation of Bertie's information. Windsor City was zero Meridan for the British; Gay measured the arc to "Touchdown," adjusted her longitudes-and now could use any British Martian colonial map.

Bertie assured us that Russian Ack-Ack could not shoot higher than three miles (less than five klicks) and seemed astonished that a spaceship might be considered dangerous. His explanation of spaceships was less than clear- great flimsy things that sailed from orbits around Earth to orbits around Mars, taking months for each voyage.

I was watching the time. "Chief Pilot, we will sight-see with Bertie another day; I am taking the conn. Copilot."

"Verniers zeroed and locked, Astrogator."

"Thanks, Pop. Gay B'gout. Bertie, this is where we first grounded-where the Russians attacked us. That trash ahead is what is left of Colonel Morinosky's private flyer. Zebadiah was forced to retaliate."

Bertie looked puzzled. "But the Russians have no settlement near here. I know that bounder Morinosky; he came to see me under diplomatic immunity. I had to be content with the sort of nasty remarks permitted by protocol. But how did Zeb burn the flyer?"

"Beautifully. Gay Home. Chief Pilot, dive. Captain?"

"I have the conn," Aunt Hilda acknowledged. "Bertie, that crater was our home three days ago. They tried to kill us, we fled for our lives."

"Who!"

"Gay Home, Gay Bounce. Pilots, may we have Earth-without-a-J?"

"Set it, Jake."

"Tau axis positive one quantum-set!"

"Copilot, execute at will. Chief Pilot, dive again, please. Jacob, please set Bertie's home universe and hold. Bertie, that house is like Snug Harbor before

it was bombed-but one universe away. Zebbie, level glide please... Gay Bounce, Gay Bounce! Jacob, you have that setting?"

"Tau positive ten quanta, set."

"Execute at will. Bertie, what antiaircraft defense does London-your London-have?"

"What, what? London has no defense against attack from above. The Concord of Brussels. But Hilda-my dear Captain-you are telling me that we have been to a different universe!"

"Three universes, Bertie, and now we are back in your own. Better to show than to tell; it is a thing one believes only through experience. Gay Bounce. Zebbie, Jacob, see how quickly you can put us over London. Execute at will."

"Roger Wilco. Jake, do you want Gay?"

"Well-great-circle true bearing and chord distance, maybe. Or I can simply take her high and head northeast. The scenic route."

Aunt Hilda caught my eye. "Camera ready, Deety?"

"Yes. Three shots." I added, "Four more cartons, but when they're gone, they're gone."

"Use your judgment."

Suddenly we were in free fall over Arizona, then over the British Isles, then we were air supported, then we were diving and Zebadiah was shouting: "Tower of London, next stop!"

I shot a beauty of the Tower and Zebadiah's right ear. "General, is there something you would like to photograph here? Or elsewhere?"

He seemed almost too overcome to talk. He muttered, "There is a place about twenty miles north of here, a country estate. Is it possible?"

Aunt Hilda said, "Take the conn, Deety."

"Got it, Captain. Gay Bounce. Pop, Zebadiah, give me three minima north. Execute at will."

Then I was saying, "Any landmarks, Bertie?"

"Uh, not yet."

"Pop, may we have the binoculars?"