She was euphoric. I attributed it to excitement over the coming adventure. I was mistaken.

Lazarus, a highly competent mathematician although not the unique that Jake is or Libby, was in this case not a calm abstractionist; his mood was grim determination to win or die trying-causing me to recall how he got his arse shot off.

Jake turned out to be a determinist (he himself being one universe's prime example of utter, rambunctious free will!).

Deety is a pragmatic mathematician, unworried by theory. Oz is real, she is real, "fictons" don't interest her. "Don't fret, Lazarus. We can do it, Gay can do it-and we won't do it until Gay is certain of her program."

This discussion had started midafternoon in Dora. Sharpie had worked out her difficulties with Lazarus (to my enormous relief; were those two to wind up on opposite sides in anything more serious than Parcheesi, I yearn to be elsewhere-say Timbuktu under an assumed name); she, Jake, Lazarus, and Libby were in the flag cabin, arguing, when Sharpie had Dora page Deety and me.

There were endless matters on the agenda Uncluding the preposterous notion that we four were 'Missing Howards' and that Lazarus was registering us as such. I'm not sure I want to live a thousand years or even two hundred. But I am sure of this: a) I want to live quite a piece; and b) I want to be alert, healthy, and active right up to the last. Not like my great-grandfather who had to be spoonfed at a hundred and five, and could not control his secretions. But the Howards have got that whipped: you stay young as long as you wish, then die by choice when you feel you've had your full run.

(Yes, I was willing to be a 'Found Howard' since it included Deety, plus little Deeties ad infinitum.)

Lots of other business, all of it postponed (including the problem of "Black Hats"), in order to deal with rescuing Maureen Johnson.

We were still discussing knotty aspects when Lor's voice said: "Commodore?"

"Yes, Captain?" Sharpie had answered.

"Ma'am, I hesitate to disturb you-"

"Quite all right, Lor. The Captain must always be able to reach me."

"Uh, Ma'am, Dora told me that she was forbidden to call you. She has for you a variety of New Rome styles for women and men, a military uniform for Doctor Jacob, and one for Doctor Zebadiah, and evening formals for Doctor Elizabeth and Doctor Deety-and she's not sure where to send any of them."

"Send all the clothes to the flag cabin, please."

"Yes, Ma'am. They should be appearing in your delivery cupboard now. Do you know where that is?"

"I'll find it. What are you and your sister wearing tonight? Or is it a secret?"

"It's not a secret; we just haven't decided. But there is still an hour and thirty-one minutes till dinner."

"Time enough to pick out pretty clothes. Or will you wear formal skin tonight? That takes anywhere from two seconds to two hours, does it not? Off."

Sharpie used an unusually rough expression of disgust, which told me that she now included Lib and Lazarus in her inner circle. "Woodie, do you know any exceptionally strong cuss words? I detest the thought of wasting time pretending to be festive when we have so much to settle, especially our procedures for Maureen."

Deety looked at Libby. "You and I are kind o' stuck with a promise, too. How about some new cuss words from you, too?"

"Deety, I have no literary talent. But I would like to hear some soul-soothing cussing. We ought to stick with this, with snacks to keep going and sleep when we must, until it's perfect. Three hours or three days or three weeks."

I said, "We shall!"

Sharpie shook her head. "Zebbie, you can skip dinner. I can't. Lazarus should appear, too."

He agreed. "I'm afraid I must. But, Commodore, I must advise you that your flag chief of staff should be present, too, for esprit de corps." He cleared his throat noisily. "Libby and Jacob, being passengers, could skip."

Lib shook her head. "Deety and I made a reckless promise."

Not being a genius myself, it's kind of fun to make a roomful of 'em look silly. I stood up. "No! We will not let a dinner party interfere! We can settle it within three days. But if you all are going to chase rabbits- What's the matter with you, Sharpie? Getting stupid in your old age?"

"Apparently I am, Zebbie." She said to Lazarus, "Please issue orders cancelling dinner. We'll stay with this until we finish it. There are beds and lounges whenever anyone needs to nap. But we won't adjourn. Three hours or three weeks. Or longer."

"Don't cancel dinner, Sharpie."

"Zebbie, you have me confused."

"Beulahland is on a different time axis."

Five minutes later we were in our old farmhouse. We hadn't stopped for clothes as we would have wasted twenty minutes, whereas the idea was to save time on that axis, use time on this axis. We stuck Lazarus and Libby back in the after space, with the bulkhead door dogged open, so they could see and hear, but required them to use the web straps, and cautioned them that the lumps under them were loaded firearms.

The only thing not routine was that we would be making rendezvous later with a moving ship, something we had done before only from bounce range in the same space-time. So I had asked Gay whether she was sure she could do it. She assured me that she could, because she wasn't concerned with the ship's vector; she would return the instant she left.

I turned to Commodore-now-Captain Sharpie. "Ready for space, Captain."

"Thank you, Astrogator. Gay Deceiver. Beulahland. Execute. Gay Deceiver, open your doors. All hands, unbelt. Disembark. Gay, it's sleepy time. Over."

"Goodnight, Hilda. Roger and out."

Our passengers were dazed-they all are, first time. They stood outside our barn, looking at the setting sun, acting like zombies, until I shooed them inside. Although Beulahland does not have body taboos, they wear clothes most of the time, and six naked people outdoors in a clump as the chill of the evening was coming on was odd. I like a low profile.

Once inside, Libby said, "Feels like Arkansaw."

Lazarus replied. "Feels like Mizzoura."

"Neither," I told them. "It would be the St ate of \Va~h I n~ton if' it weren't Beulahiand, and what ought to be Puget Sound is about a kilometer over that way."

"It still feels like home. Lazarus, I'm happy here."

At that moment I decided we would never give up New Harbor. Apparently we were going to be citizens of Tertius, or maybe New Rome on Secundus, or both (commuting is no problem when light-years mean nothing), on another time axis. We could take a rest from city life anytime and have it cost not one day's work on Tertius. Contrariwise, only such time would pass on New World as we spent there.

Hmm- Maybe we could sell vacations. Or extra study time for that student who has his big exam, the one he must pass, tomorrow morning. Sell him room and board and transportation and three weeks not in the calendar. At a slight markup, of course.

I built a cheerful fire in the fireplace, and Lazarus washed dishes, while Libby insisted on proving that she could cook on a wood range, even though she had learned centuries ago by her time scale, as a gangling boy. Yes, Elizabeth can cook.

We ate and sat around and ta~ ked, puiz~io~ ho~ Ia ba ~uI a at ~laureen Not make that one tiny mista ke, It was then thaI Deetv bl'I)ught up the root ter of the dead body, \ouve seen how ocr urate (day can be But Icn~r' do we get a freshly-dead corpse to replace Maureen?

Lazarus told her to forget it, "I provide the corpse."

"That's not a good answer, Lazarus."

"Deety, don't worry. It'll be dead and I will dump it." I said, "Lazarus, I don't like that answer a damn bit." "Nor do I," Jake seconded.

"Nor I," agreed Sharpie. "Woodie, you're asking us to make a snatch-a hanging offense many places, bad trouble anywhere. We don't mind the technicality; saving an old woman's life isn't the sin kidnapping is. But what about this freshly-dead corpse? We don't deal in murder."