The Number of the Beast

by Robert A. Heinlein

  “Captain Auntie, I’ve spent all day making certain that programs can’t put us out of the frying pan into the fire. That’s why I killed ‘countermarch.’ The nearest thing to danger is the ‘Home’ program because our home planet is unfriendly.” Deety sounded sad. “I hate to cut our last link with home.”

  “It needn’t be cut,” I said. “Just stretched. Put it back into long form and add ‘Execute.’”

  Deety answered, “Captain, I will do as you say. But we might be a billion klicks from nowhere and hit by a meteor. If anyone can gasp, ‘GayHome,’ then we are two klicks over our cabin site in air, not vacuum. Even if we’ve passed out, Gay won’t crash us; she’s built not to. If I’m gasping my last, I don’t want to have to say, ‘Gay Deceiver, take us home. Execute.’ That’s ten syllables against two…with air whooshing out.”

  I said, “That settles it. The ‘Gay Home’ program stands unless my successor changes it.”

  “You’re not talking to me, Captain Sharpie darling—I mean, Captain Hilda—because I’m not your successor. But Deety convinced me. I will not admit that those vermin have run me permanently off my own planet. At least I can return to it to die.”

  “Son, let’s not speak of dying. We are going to stay alive and raise kids and enjoy it.”

  “That’s my Pop! Say, doesn’t anybody want to see this picture?”

  We made it a rest stop, worrying more about giant termites than about bushes…and Jacob found a can opener. The can opener. I put a stop to an attempt to fix the blame. Advice to all explorers: Do not roam the universes without a spare can opener.

  Then it was “Prepare for lift!” and a new program. “Chief Pilot, switch on autopilot. Gay Deceiver. Explore. True bearing two-six-five. Unit jump five minima. Use bingo stop continue. End program short of sunrise line. Ground. Acknowledge by paraphrase.”

  “Explore west five degrees south fifty-klick units. Two-second check each jump. Ground myself no power Greenwich time oh-three-seventeen.”

  “Deety, is that time right?”

  “For that program.”

  “Gay Deceiver. Program revision. Cancel grounding. From program coded ‘A Tramp Abroad’ display locus. Display Bingoes.”

  She displayed Mars at once, but gibbous. I scrawled a note to Deety: “How do I rotate to show day side only?”

  Dear Deety! She wrote her answer. Passed it over—I doubt that our men saw it: “Program revision. Display locus real-time day side.”

  Gay accommodated. It took several steps to define new locus as sunset line (right edge - east) to sunrise line (left edge - west), and between 50°N and 50°S (some Russian area had been close to 45°S, so I widened the search)—then let the locus move with the terminators. (Gay can “see” in the dark but I can’t.)

  I told her to end “Explore” at Greenwich oh-three-seventeen and start “A Tramp Abroad,” continue until directed otherwise, and had Gay repeat back in her phrasing.

  I touched Zebbie’s shoulder, pointed to the switch that cut out Gay’s ears, drew a finger across my throat. He nodded and shut her out. I said, “Questions, gentlemen? Deety?”

  “I do, Captain,” said our Chief Pilot. “Do you plan on sleeping tonight?”

  “Certainly, Zebbie. An ideal sleeping spot would be one far from the Russians but close to the present sunset line. Or did you want to work all night?”

  “If you wish. I noticed that you gave Gay a program that could keep her going for days or weeks—and that you had reduced H-above-G to six klicks. Breathable air. By rotating duties, with one or two always stretched out aft, we can stay up a week, easily, and still give Jake’s ankles a break.”

  “I can skip a night’s sleep,” said Deety. “Captain Auntie honey, with enough random samples and a defined locus, sampling soon approaches a grid a fly couldn’t get through. Do you want the formula?”

  “Heavens, no! As long as it works.”

  “It works. Let’s make a long run, get a big sampling. But I’d like to add something. Let’s parallel the display onto a sidelooker screen, and light every vertex—while the main display shows Bingoes. You’ll see how tight a screen you’re building.”

  “Sharpie, don’t let her do it!” Zebbie added, “’Scuse, please! Captain, the Astrogator is correct on software but I know more about this hardware. You can crowd a computer into a nervous breakdown. I have safeguards around Smart Girl; if I give her too much to do, she tells me to go to hell. But she likes Deety. Like a willing horse, she’ll try hard for Deety even when it’s too much.”

  Deety said soberly, “Captain, I gave you bad advice.”

  Her husband said, “Don’t be so humble, Deety. You’re smarter than I am and we all know it. But we are dependent on Smart Girl and can’t let her break down. Captain, I don’t know how much strain the time-space twister puts on her but she has unnecessary programs. At the Captain’s convenience, I would like to review everything in her perms and wipe those we can do without.”

  “My very early convenience, sir. Is the schedule okay?”

  “Oh, sure. Just don’t add that side display.”

  “Thank you, Chief Pilot. Anyone else? Copilot?”

  “My dear…my dear Captain, is there some reason to find a spot near the sunset line? If you intend to work all night?”

  “Oh! But, Jacob, I do not plan to work all night. It is now about twenty hundred by our personal circadians, as established by when we got up. I think we can search for three to four hours. I hope that we can find a spot to sleep near the sunset line, scout it in daylight, let Gay land herself on it for her perms—then return to it in the dark when we get tired”

  “I see, in part. My dear, unless I misunderstood you, you are heading west. But you said that you wanted to find us a place to sleep near the present sunset line. East. Or did I misunderstood you?”

  “It’s very simply explained, Jacob.”

  “Yes, dear Captain?”

  “I made a horrible mistake in navigation.”

  “Oh.”

  “Chief Pilot, did you spot it?”

  “Yup. Yes, Captain.”

  “Why didn’t you speak up?”

  “Not my business, Ma’am. Nothing you planned to do was any danger.”

  “Zebbie, I’m not sure whether to thank you for keeping quiet, or to complain because you did. Deety, you spotted the mistake, I am certain. You are supposed to advise me.”

  “Captain, I’m supposed to speak up to stop a bad mistake. This was not. I wasn’t certain that it was a mistake until you told on yourself. But you spotted the mistake when Gay predicted the time to end the ‘Explore’ program, then you corrected it by telling her to shift to ‘A Tramp Abroad.’ So there was never a reason to advise you.”

  I let out a sigh. “You’re covering for me and I love you all and I’m no good as captain. I’ve served as many hours as Zebbie and we are on the ground, so now it’s time to elect someone who can do it right. You, Zebbie.”

  “Not me. Jake and Deety must each do a stint before I’d admit that it might be my turn.”

  “Captain—”

  “Deety, I’m not captain; I resigned!”

  “No, Aunt Hilda, you didn’t actually do it. It is my duty to advise you when you seem about to make a bad mistake. You made a minor mistake and corrected it. In my business we call that ‘debugging’—and spend more time on it than we do on writing programs. Because everybody makes mistakes.”

  Jane’s little girl managed to sound the way Jane used to. I resolved to listen—because all too often I hadn’t listened to Jane. “Captain Auntie, if you were resigning because of the way your crew treated you—as Zebadiah did—I wouldn’t say a word. But that’s not your reason. Or is it?”

  “What? Oh, no! You’ve all helped—you’ve been angels. Uh, well, mostly.”

  “‘Angels’—hummph! I can’t use the correct words; I’d shock our men. Aunt Hilda, I gave you far worse lip than I ever gave Zebadiah. You slapped me down hard—and I’ve been your st
rongest supporter ever since. Zebadiah, what you did was worse—”

  “I know.”

  “—but you admitted that you were wrong. Nevertheless you’ve been chewing the bit. Demanding explanations. Zebadiah, the captain of a ship doesn’t have to explain why she gives an order. Or does she?”

  “Of course not. Oh, a captain sometimes does explain. But she shouldn’t do it often or the crew will start thinking they are entitled to explanations. In a crunch this can kill you. Waste that split second.” Zebbie brooded. “Captain says ‘Frog,’ you hop. Couple of times I failed to hop. Captain, I’m sorry.”

  “Zebbie, we get along all right.”

  He reached back and patted my knee. “Pretty well in the past. Better from now on.”

  My darling Jacob said worriedly, “I’m afraid I have been remiss, too.”

  I was about to reassure him when Deety cut in: “‘Remiss’! Pop, you’re the worst of all! If I had been your wife, I would have tossed you back and rebaited my hook. ‘Farce’ is worse than mutinous; it’s insulting. Be glad Jane didn’t hear you!”

  “I know, I know!”

  I touched Deety’s arm and whispered, “That’s enough, dear.”

  Zebbie said soberly, “Captain, as I analyze it, you made a mistake in sign. Every navigator makes mistakes—and has some routine by which to check his work. If you’re going to get upset because recheck shows that you wrote down ‘plus’ when the declination is ‘south,’ you’re going to have ulcers. You’re just under strain from being C.O. We’ve all made the strain worse. But we want to do better. I’d hate to have you resign over a minor error…when we caused your upset. I hope you’ll give us another chance.”

  Captains aren’t supposed to cry. I blinked ’em back, got my voice under control, and said, “All hands! Still ready for lift? Report.”

  “Aye, Captain!”—“Affirmative!”—“Yes, my dear Hilda.”

  “Zebbie, switch on Gay’s ears.” He did.

  “Execute!”—Termite Creek was gone and we were fifty klicks west and a touch south. Pretty and green but no Bingo. It would take us about seven minutes to overtake the Sun and approach sunrise line, plus any holds we made. Then I would go east to the sunset line in nothing flat (have Zebbie and Jacob do it); then bounce & glide, bounce & glide, while looking for a place to sleep in a spot suitable for Gay to try her new unpowered autogrounding program—in daylight with the hottest pilot in two worlds ready to override any error.

  If Gay could do this, we would be almost independent of juice—and have a new “bug-out” sanctuary each time she landed herself. Power packs—Zebbie had a hand-cranked D.C. generator—but heavy work for husky men for endless hours. (40 hrs from zero to full charge; you see why Zebbie would rather buy fresh charges.)

  We had been skipping along nearly three minutes, over four thousand klicks, before spotting a Bingo (by Zebbie). I called a “Hold” and added, “Where, Zebbie?”

  He nosed us down. Farm buildings and cultivated fields—a happy contrast to the terrain—barren, green, flat, rugged—all lacking any sign of humans, in the stops we had made. “Astrogator, record time. Continue.”

  Then over three minutes with no Bingoes—At elapsed time 6m4s Jacob called out, “Bingo! A town.”

  “Hold! Onion towers?”

  “I think not, dear. I see a flag—dare we go nearer?”

  “Yes! But anyone use a scram at will. Jacob, may I have the binoculars, please?”

  The Stars and Stripes are engraved on my heart, but in the next moments the Cross of Saint Andrew and the Cross of Saint George were added. It was an ensign with a blue field and some white shapes—three half moons in three sizes.

  “Gay Deceiver.”

  “I’m all ears, Hilda.”

  “Move current program to standby.”

  “Roger Wilco Done.”

  “Gay Bounce. Zebbie, let’s sweep this area for a bigger settlement.”

  Zebbie placed a locus around the town, radius five hundred klicks, and started “A Tramp Abroad” with vertex time cut to one second. Thirty-one minutes later we had a city. I guessed it at a hundred thousand plus.

  “Captain,” Zebbie said, “may I suggest that we bounce and try to raise them by radio? This place is big enough for A.A. guns or missiles—”

  “Gay Bounce!”

  “—and we know that their Slavic neighbors have aircraft.”

  “Is your guardian angel warning you?”

  “Well…’tain’t polite to ground without clearance; such rudeness can make one suddenly dead.”

  “Gay Bounce, Gay Bounce. Are we out of reach of missiles?”

  “Captain, British and Russians of this universe are ahead of us in spaceships or they wouldn’t be here. That requires us to assume that their missiles and lasers and X-weapons are better than ours.”

  “What’s an ‘X-weapon’? And what do you advise?”

  “I advise evasive tactics. An X-weapon is a ‘Nobody-Knows.’”

  “Evasive tactics, your choice. I assume you won’t waste juice.”

  “No juice. Jake, gallop in all directions. Up, down, and sideways. Don’t wait for ‘Execute’; jump as fast as you can. That’s it! Keep moving!”

  “Captain Auntie, may I suggest an easier way?”

  “Speak up, Deety.”

  “Zebadiah, how big is that city? Kilometers.”

  “That’s indefinite. Oh, call it eight klicks in diameter.”

  “You’ve got that one-second ‘Tramp’ program on hold. Change locus. Center on that biggest building, make the radius six klicks. Then start program and Pop can rest.”

  “Uh… Deety, I’m stupid. Six klicks radius, ten klicks is a minimum—A bit tight?”

  “Meant to be. Shall I draw a picture?”

  “Maybe you’d better.”

  (Deety had defined an annulus two kilometers wide, outer radius six, inner radius four. We would “circle” the city six klicks above ground, random jumps, sixty per minute. I doubted that even robot weapons could find us, range us, hit us, in one second.)

  Deety loosened her belt, slithered forward, and sketched. Suddenly Zebbie said, “Gotcha! Deety, you’re a smart girl.”

  “‘Boss, I’ll bet you tell that to all the girls.’”

  “Nope, just smart ones. Gay Deceiver!”

  “Less noise, please.”

  “Program revision. A Tramp Abroad. Locus a circle radius six klicks. Center defined by next Bingo. Acknowledge paraphrase.”

  “Revised program A Tramp Abroad. Circle twelve klicks diameter center next real-time Bingo.”

  “Jake, put us over that big building downtown. If necessary, make several tries but don’t hang around. Once I like the position I’ll say the magic word, then scram.”

  “Aye aye, Chief.”

  Jacob made a dozen jumps before Zebbie said, “Bingo Gay Bounce” and a light appeared on the display. He started the program and told Gay to increase scale; the light spread out into a circle with a lighted dot in the center. “Captain, watch this. I’ve told Gay that every stop is a Bingo. You may be surprised.”

  “Thanks, Zebbie.” The circle was becoming freckled inside its perimeter. With no feeling of motion, the scene flicked every second. It was mid-morning; each scene was sharp. That big building would be dead ahead—blink your eye and you’re staring at fields—then again at the city but with that building off to starboard. It put me in mind of holovideo tape spliced to create confusion.

  Zebbie had on his phones and was ignoring everything else. Jacob was watching the flickering scenery, as was I, as was Deety—when Jacob suddenly turned his head, said, “Deety-please-the-Bo—” and clapped his hand over his mouth.

  I said, “Two Bonines, Deety—quickly!”

  Deety was reaching for them. “You, too, Auntie Cap’n?”

  “It’s this flickering.” I gave one to Jacob, made certain that he saw me take one. I had not been motion-sick since I had been made Captain. But any time my husband must take o
ne, I will keep him company.

  Today I should have taken one as soon as I spotted that British flag; Bonine tranquilizes the nerves as well as the tummy…and soon I must act as—ambassador? Something of the sort; I intended to go straight to the top. Dealing with underlings is frustrating. In college I would not have lasted almost four years had it been up to the dean of women. But I always managed to take it over her head to the president; the top boss can bend the rules.

  (But my senior year the president was female and as tough a bitch as I am. She listened to my best Clarence-Darrow defense, congratulated me, told me I should have studied law, then said, “Go pack. I want you off campus by noon.”)

  Zebbie pushed the phone off his right ear. “Captain, I’ve got this loud enough to put on the horn. Want to talk to them?”

  “No. I’ve never grounded outside the States. You know how, you do it. But, Chief Pilot—”

  “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “And Copilot and Astrogator. Stick to the truth at all times. But do not unnecessarily give information. Answer questions uninformatively—but truthfully. If pressed, tell them, ‘See the Captain.’”

  “My dear,” Jacob said worriedly, “I’ve been meaning to speak about this. Zeb has had diplomatic experience. Wouldn’t it be wise for us to place him in charge on the ground? Please understand, I’m not criticizing your performance as captain. But with his experience and in view of the fact that our principal purpose is to obtain certain things for his car—”

  “Gay Bounce Gay Bounce Gay Bounce! Astrogator.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Place us in a parking orbit. Soonest.”

  “Aye aye, Ma’am! Copilot, don’t touch the verniers. Chief Pilot, check that the car is level. Gay Deceiver.”

  “On deck, Deety.”

  “Program. L axis add speed vector three point six klicks per second. Paraphrase acknowledge.”

  “Increase forward speed three and six tenths kilometers per second.”

  “Chief Pilot?”

  “Level.”

  “Execute.” Deety glanced at the board. “Gay Deceiver, H-above-G will soon stop decreasing, then increase very slowly. In about fifty minutes it will maximize. Program. When H-above-G is maximum, alert me.”