Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

Forty minutes in Oz changed much of our planning.

Tik-Tok was waiting for his lady friend as usual but kept politely quiet while Deety talked with Gay-and so did Zeb and so did I, not because we have Tik-Tok's courtly manners but because Captain Hilda was blunt. Gay understood the Celsius scale, i.e., both freezing and boiling water temperatures lay in her experience and splitting the interval into one hundred parts was no trouble. She had enough parts that needed to be neither too hot nor too cold that awareness of her surroundings both ambient and radiant was as automatic as breathing is for me. As for radio and television (both gauges of technical level) she could sample all infrared flux (as she had done at Windsor City). Crowds on beach? Would it suffice to count bodies on a sample one hundred meters square?

But Gay had a quite un-human complaint: "Deety, why must I hang around a thousand milliseconds for a job I can do in ten? Don't you trust me?"

So instead of 57 years-or 8 years-or 181/2 days-or 11.4 hours-our preliminary survey was complete less than a minute after we left Oz-5000 universes in fifty seconds. Gay Deceiver displayed her results as three curves representing temperature, body count, density of communication-frequency radiation_abscissa for all running from Earth-zero to Earth-analog-5000Teh -plus.

Those curves told one thing at once: No need to search past analog 800; glaciation had returned.

In the lower right corner was displayed: 87. Zeb asked why. "Nulls," said Deety. "Gay couldn't get readings. Storm, earthquake, war, anything. Gay Deceiver."

"Hi, Deety! We whupped 'em!"

"You surely did, Smart Girl; Tik-Tok will be proud of you. Change scale. Display zero through eight hundred."

As scale expanded, figure 87 dropped to 23. Zeb said, "Deety, I'm curious about those twenty-three. Will you have S.G. display their designations?"

"Certainly, Zebadiah, but may I take it in planned order?"

"Sure but just let me find out first-"

"Astrogator," Sharpie said flatly, "isn't this your day as K.P.?"

We were at Picnic Island, examining results. I suppressed a smile; "slunk" describes the way Zeb left the cabin. Later I was unsurprised to see my tiny treasure giving Zeb an unusually warm hug and kiss. Our Captain has an efficient system of rewards and punishments-never so described.

Deety instructed Gay to eliminate all worlds with a body count higher than that of the Earth-zero beach, and all worlds chillier by five degrees (my daughter was bracketing to avoid false readings from unseasonable weather).

With elimination of high population, cold climate, and low technology as indicated by low or nil flux of communication frequencies, my daughter had us down to seventy-six worlds, plus twenty-three to reexamine-had eliminated over four thousand worlds-and it was still two hours till lunch time!

Deety had Gay display temperatures of the seventy-six. The curve was no longer continuous, but a string of beads, with clumps. I said, "Hilda my love, I'll wager ten back rubs that at least half of the nulls fit into that gap"-and indicated a break at the maximum of the temperature curve.

Hilda hesitated. "Why, Jacob?"

"My dear, figures mean little to me until expressed geometrically. Curves are bold print. I'll give you odds."

"What odds?"

"Don't be suckered, Auntie Cap'n! Pop, I'll take your end of the bet, give you two to one, and spot you a point."

A back rub from Deety is a treat; she has strong hands and knows how. But I answered, "Ladies, I must start lunch. Deety, when we make visual check, let's include Antarctica as well as Greenland, at that break."

"Two points, Pop?" I pretended not to hear.

That same day we trimmed it down to six worlds, all warm, all free of body taboos, all high technology, all acceptably low in population, all free of major war or overt preparations, all with some version of English as the major North American language. It was time to pick a world by inspection on the ground.

How to make contact was much discussed. Hilda chopped it by saying: "One way is to land on the White House lawn and say, 'Take me to your leader!' The other is to be as sneaky as a 'Black Hat.' Let me know when you reach consensus." She went through the bulkhead and dogged the door.

An hour later I rapped on the bulkhead; she rejoined us. "Captain," I reported formally, "we have reached consensus. Each is afraid of the open approach; authorities might confiscate our car, we might wind up as prisoners."

"Yes," she agreed. "Twice we just missed it."

"Precisely. The expression 'sneaky as a "Black Hat" is distasteful-"

"I so intended."

I went doggedly on: "-but sneakiness is not immoral per se. A mouse at a cat show is justified in being inconspicuous; so are we. We merely seek information. I am expendable; therefore I will scout on the ground."

"Hold it. This is unanimous? Deety? Zebbie?"

"No," my daughter answered. "I didn't get a vote. You and I are barred from taking risks. Pregnant, you know."

"I certainly do know! Jacob, I asked for consensus on method. I did not ask for volunteers. I've picked the scout I consider best qualified."

I said, "My dear, I hope you have picked me."

"No, Jacob."

"Then I'm your boy," said Zebbie.

"No, Zebbie. This is spying, not fighting. I'm doing this job myself."

I interrupted, "Hilda, where you go, I go! That's final."

Our captain said gently, "Beloved, I hope you don't stick to that. If you do, we'll elect another skipper. You are my candidate."

"Dear, I was trying to-"

"-take care of me. Nevertheless you are my candidate. Deety is too reckless; Zebbie too cautious. I'll carry out whatever duties you assign, including using the magic spectacles. Are you sticking to that ultimatum?"

"Uh, yes."

"Even though your stubbornness could result in my death? I love you, dear, but I won't take you with me on a spying mission. What happened to that 'All for one and one for all' spirit?"

~Uh..."

"Captain!"

"Yes, Zebbie?"

"You proved that you can be tough with your husband. Can you be tough with yourself? Look me in the eye and tell me that you know more about intelligence than I do. Or that you can fight your way out of a rumpus better than I can."

"Zebbie, this isn't military intelligence. You look me in the eye and tell me that you know more about obstetrics than I do. How do you prepare for leapfrog transfusion and when is it likely to be needed? Define eclampsia. What do you do about placenta previa? I am less likely to get into a rumpus than you are....nd if I do, I'll throw my arms around his neck and cry. However... convince me that you know as much about obstetrics as I do and I'll consider letting You make contacts. In the meantime pick a midwestern town big enough for a fair-sized hospital and public library, and select a point for grounding and rendezvous; you will be in command while I'm gone."

I interrupted. "Hilda, I absolutely forbid-"

"Chief Pilot! Pipe down!" My wife turned her face away from me. "Chief Master at Arms, restore discipline."

"Aye aye, Ma'am! Jake, she means you."

"But-"

"Shut up! Crewmen don't give orders to the CO, and I've had a bellyful of your attempts."

Two hours later I was in Zeb's seat, biting my nails and sweating, while Zeb had my seat. I had given unconditional parole-the alternative having been to go (or be stuffed) through the bulkhead, then wait, locked in. I am not a total fool; I gave my word.

Zeb held us in cloud cover while my daughter, wearing earphones, stayed in contact with Hilda. Gay's cabin speaker was paralleled with the phones so that we could follow in part what went on below. Deety reported, "That fade is from entering a building; I could hear her footsteps. Zebadiah, if I fiddle with the gain, I might miss her as she comes out."