"Captain Hilda, may I please say hello to Dora and tell her that I am not angry at her? She's a sweet girl, she really is. Captain, she let me use her eyes."

"Let me speak to her first."

"Oh, thank you! Gay, answering Dora. Come in, Dora."

'Gay! You had me so scared. Don't go away again, please. The Commodore wants to apologize to your boss. Will she talk to him?"

"Captain?"

"No. I'll speak to Dora's Captain, however."

A cartoon of Lorelei's features displayed on our central screen. "Lor speaking, Captain Hilda. My brother is terribly sorry and wants to apologize. My sisters and I are dreadfully upset and want you please to come back. I don't claim any command over your ship despite the silly things my brother said. Lib has a message for you, too. She says that, topologically, there is no difference between you being inside us or us being inside you. Either way, we each surround the other."

"I don't see it topologically, Captain; I see it pragmatically. But please thank Elizabeth for me. I have this message for Lazarus Long. A cat can be caught in almost any trap once; but that cat will not be caught in the same trap twice."

"The message is delivered."

"Then it is time to say good-bye. Captain Lorelei, I cannot honestly thank you as kidnapping is not hospitality even when it is luxurious. But I don't think that you or your sister-sisters-meant it that way. I blame it on that deceitful, devious brother of yours. Please tell your sisters and Libby good-bye for us and say that I am sorry we had to leave."

"Captain, wait! There is something I must do first."

"Captain Lor, I must warn you I have you in my gunsights."

"What? Oh! We are unarmed. Not anything like that. I'll be back quickly. Perhaps you would like Dora to sing? But please don't go away!" The face in the screen pulled away.

"What kind of songs do you like, folks? I know lots of songs. One-Ball Reilly; and the Green Hills and On Guard Christmas So's Yours and Santa Carolita and Mademoiselle from Army Tears and the Pawnshot song and The Monkey Wrapped His Tail Around the Flagpole and Mary O'Meara and Soldier, Ask Not and just tell me what you like, and-here comes Sister. Captain Lor."

"Captain Hilda, thanks from my heart for waiting. Can you record?"

"Gay, recording mode. Go ahead."

"I have placed my brother under arrest and confined him to quarters. I, Captain Lorelei Lee Long, Master of Star Yacht Dora, affirm for use in any court that I have no authority over yacht Gay Deceiver and will never attempt to assert authority over Gay Deceiver no matter what circumstances and,

furthermore, I now place myself, my crew, and my ship Dora under command of Captain Hilda Burroughs, henceforth commodore of both ships, this assignment of command irrevocable by me or my sisters, and revocable solely by Commodore Burroughs at her sole discretion. End of message. Hilda, won't you come home? Laz is crying and I don't know what to do. We need you. Buddy Boy never did tell you why. But we do! May I tell you?"

"Go ahead, Lor."

"To save our mother's life!"

(I said, softly, "I'll be damned.")

My wife hesitated, then said, "Is Elizabeth Long there?"

"Yes, yes! She's been listening-she's crying, too-and I would be but I'm Captain and can't."

The smudged faces changed. "Lib Long speaking, Commodore."

"Libby, Captain Lorelei has told me something not only hard to believe but, if she is cloned from her brother as I have read, she may have his talent for lying. From what I know of you, I don't think you ever learned how to lie."

"Commodore, it is true that I never learned to lie convincingly. So I gave it up a long time ago."

"Very well, Lib. Is Lazarus Long in fact confined and under arrest?"

"Yes, to both. His door won't open and Dora has been instructed not to let him out until you permit it."

"What's this about saving her mother's life? If they are clones from a man the age Lazarus is alleged to be, their mother must have died a couple of millennia back."

"It's as complex as my case, Commodore, but quite different. The twins have host-mothers. But Lor was speaking of the genetic mother of herself, her twin sister, and Lazarus Long. She was reported dead more than two thousand OldHome-Terra years ago. But there is some hope that the records were confused and that it may be possible to save her. It can't be done without your help and the help of the Gay Deceiver. I don't think the chances are good, even so. But without your help-well, I would have to try to devise such a drive as Gay is reported to have-and I don't think I can."

"Wait a moment, Libby. Gay, cut transmission from cabin; keep circuit ready. Can you find your way unassisted back into your berth in Dora? Did you get it into your perms?"

"I did. I thought I might want to find Dora someday. Are you displeased with me? I know it wasn't authorized. But I didn't three-times it! I can wipe it."

"Gay Deceiver. New program. New parking spot. Code word 'Dora Long.' I tell you three times."

"Hilda, I hear you three times!"

"Gay Deceiver. 'Dora Long.' Execute!"

The stars went away and lighted alcoves were at our doors.

"You're a figment of imagination."

Zeb:

"Hear that, Laz? You're a figment of imagination."

"No, Lor. You are a figment; I'm a fig." (What she said was "fica," and Deety suppressed a giggle. I pinched her and told her in family tap code that she had

a dirty mind-which she ignored, being proud of it rather than otherwise. It was a long time later that I learned that Laz had used a Galacta word-but the ancient pun still applied.)

Jake reiterated patiently, "Laz-Lor, the key point of Commodore Hilda's theory is that we are all equally figments of imagination. 'Reality' thus becomes a null sythbol."

Deety shook her head emphatically. "Stick to geometry, Pop. Or stamp collecting. Leave symbology to symbologists-such as your favorite daughter. I'm real, I am! Smell me."

"No doubt you could use a bath. So could we all; it's been an adrenaline day. But that's the other side of the coin, Deety. 'Imaginary' and 'Real' turn out to be identical. Consider this chow bench. On one level of abstraction it is mathematical equations. At the level just below that it is a swirling nothlngness, with mass-energy a rare event. But on the gross level abstracted by my senses I can place this drink on it with utter confidence that it will not sink through this near vacuum."

My father-in-law matched his words by placing his highball on the snack bench; it sank out of sight.

Jake looked tired. "Not my day. Dora, did you do that?"

"Yes and no, Professor."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"You placed it on a take-away spot and that part of me was on automatic and took it away and sterilized it. I'm sorry, sir, and here's your fresh drink."

It was indeed a busy day. No one had been waiting at our parking berth, but three young women arrived at a dead run while Sharpie was swapping seats with Deety-our brand-new commodore planned to be first to step into her new ship. The starboard door opened; Sharpie stepped out, a dignified procession of one-

-and was hit from three sides by three young women, each managing to laugh and cry at the same time. But Sharpie enjoys everything and her aplomb has never been shaken. She kissed them, let them kiss her, petted them and told them to calm down, everything was all right. "Dears, I never intended to stay away; I simply refused to let the great Lazarus Long put one over on Sharpie. Where is he now?"