Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

"No, Ma'am! Hjrd-Jones is not at fault. I tried to get you and your crew to fly it on any terms at all. You refused. Hird-Jones may kill himself attempting to fly a strange flyer. If so he will die a hero. He is not what you called him."

"I don't think well of you, either, Bertie. You are a thief-stealing our only hope of a future."

"He certainly is!" I cut in. "Governor, I can whip you-I can kill you, with my bare hands. I'm Black-Belt three ways. Are you going to hide behind your Commission and your self-serving laws?" I dusted my hands together. "Coward.

Two cowards, with their chests covered with ribbons boasting about their brave deeds."

"Astrogator."

"Captain."

"Let it drop. Bertie, under right of angary we are entitled to remove our chattels. I insist on a witness so that you will know that we have done nothing to damage the craft. If the Brigadier can drive it, it will be turned over to him in perfect shape. But my jewelry is in our craft and many other things; I must have a witness. You, sir. My stepdaughter can certainly kill you or anyone her size or a bit more than her size, with her bare hands. But I grant you safeconduct. Will you have it in writing?"

Bertie shook his head. "You know I can't take time to witness. Pick anyone else."

"I won't grant safe-conduct to anyone else. Anyone who has not ridden with us would not know how to watch for sabotage. So it must be either you or HirdJones... and Hird-Jones would never live to get out of our car. He has three of the deadliest killers in two universes quite annoyed. Angry over angary."

"Any of you who will not give parole must wait up here."

"Wait a half, Gov," my husband drawled. "Parole' applies to prisoners. Captain, this might be a good time to read aloud our safe-conduct from the Governor General. See how many ways this fake 'officer and gentleman' has broken his word-and the written guarantees of his sovereign. He has broken all three essential guarantees to all four of us. That's twelve. Almost a Russian score. Safe-conduct amounting to diplomatic immunity, all of us free to leave at any time, we four never to be separated involuntarily. Now he wants hostages. Pfui!"

"None is broken," Bertie asserted.

"Liar," my husband answered.

"All of you are safe here... until the Russians conquer us. I slipped in speaking of parole; you are not prisoners. You all may stay together-living in the Princess Suite if you so choose. If not, in any quarters you choose in territory I control. You are all free to leave at any moment. But you must not approach that requisitioned flyer. Captain, your jewels will be safe. But others will unload the flyer."

"Bertie-"

"What? Yes... Hilda?"

"Dear, you are both stubborn and stupid. You can't open the doors of our car, much less drive it. Attempt to force it open and no one will ever drive it. I conceded the legality of the right of angary. But you insist on making it impossible to apply it. Accept my safe-conduct and come witness or there that car sits until the Russians come, while we live in luxury in this palace. You know that 'the right to leave at any time' means nothing without our transport. Now, for the last time, will you do it my way....r will you waste the precious minutes of a war crisis trying to open that car by yourself? Make up your mind, this offer will not be repeated. Answer Yes or No... and be damned quick about it!"

Bertie covered his face with his hands. "Hilda, I've been up all night. Both Squeaky and I."

"I know, dear. I knew when we came in. So I must help you make up your mind. Deety, check your purse. Something is missing."

I hastily checked, wondering what she meant. Then I noticed that a secret pocket that should have been hard was not. "Oh! Do you have it?"

"Yes, Deety." Aunt Hilda was seated, her choice, so that she had both Bertje and Squeaky in her line of fire-and none of us. "I mentioned three killers. Now you have four facing you... in a soundproofed room with its door bolted from inside." (I never saw her draw my Skoda gun. But she was holding it on them.) "Bertie, I'm making up your mind for you. You are accepting my safeconduct. Consider how poor the chances are that anyone would find your bodies in the time it takes us to run down one flight and reach our car."

Squeaky lunged at Hilda. I tripped him, kicked his left kneecap as he fell, then said, "Don't move, Fink! My next kick is a killer! Captain, has Bertie come to his senses? Or shall I take him? I hate to kill Bertie. He's tired and worried and not thinking straight. Then I would have to kill Squeaky. He can't help his eidetic memory, any more than I can help this clock in my head. Squeaky, did I break your kneecap? Or can you walk if I let you get up?"

"I can walk. You're fast, Deety."

"I know. Captain. Plans?"

"Bertie, you are accepting my safe-conduct. We are all going out together, we four around you two, laughing and talking and heading for our car-and if anyone gets close, you two are dead. One of you will get it with this-"

"And the other with this." (My husband, with his stubby police special-)

"Why, Zebbie! How naughty of you! Jacob, do you have a holdout too?"

"Just this-" Pop now had his hunting knife.

"Deety?"

"Did have. You're holding it. But I still have five weapons."

"Five?"

"Both hands, both feet, and my head. Squeaky, I must frisk you. Don't wiggle... or I'll hurt you." I added, "Stop easing toward your desk, Bertie. You can't kill four of us before we kill you. Pop, don't bother with the gun, or trap, or whatever, in Bertie's desk, Let's get out of here, laughing and joking, as the Captain ordered. Oh, Squeaky, that didn't hurt! Captain, shall I let him up?"

"Brigadier Hird-Jones, do you honor the safe-conduct granted to us by your commanding officer?" Aunt Hilda asked.

"Brigadier, I order you to honor it," Bertie said grimly.

Maybe Squeaky had to catch his breath; he was a touch slow. "Yes, sir."

Aunt Hilda said, "Thanks, Squeaky. I'm sorry I had to say harsh things to

You....ut not having muscles I must fight with words. Zebbie, frisk Bertie.

But quickly; we leave now. I leave first, on Bertie's arm. Deety follows, on

Squeaky's arm-you can lean on her if you need to; she's strong. Help him up,

Deety, Jacob and Zebbie trail along behind. Bertie, if anyone gets close to us,

or either you or Squeaky try to signal anyone, or if anything is pointed at us-

first you two die. Then we four die; that's inevitable. But we'll take some with us. What do you think the total may be? Two....nd four... then five? Six? A dozen? Or higher?"

It took us forty-seven seconds to the bottom of the steps, thirty-one more to Gay Deceiver, and I aged seventy-eight years. Squeaky did lean on me but I made it look the other way around and he managed to smile and to sing with me: Gaudeamus Igitur. Hilda sang The Bastard King to Bertie which seemed both to shock him and make him laugh. The odd way she held his arm told me that she was prepared to plant 24 poisoned darts in Bertie's left armpit if anything went sour.

No one bothered us. Bertie returned a dozen or more salutes.

But at Gay Deceiver we ran into a bobble. Four armed soldiers guarded our Smart Girl. By the starboard door was that fathead Moresby, looking smug. As we came close, he saluted, aiming it at Bertie.

Bertie did not return his salute. "What's the meaning of this?" he said, pointing. Plastered to Gay's side, bridging the line where her door fairs into her afterbody, was H.I.M.'s Imperial seal.

Moresby answered, "Governor, I understood you perfectly when you told me that I had work to do. Verb. sap., eh?"

Bertie didn't answer; Moresby continued to hold salute.

"Major General Moresby," Bertie said so quietly that I could just hear it.