I heard Zebadiah say, "Copilot, are you certain you took us to Mars?"

"Captain, I took us to Mars-ten, via plus on Tau axis. Either that or I'm a patient in a locked ward."

"Take it easy, Jake. It doesn't resemble Mars as much as Earth-ten resembles Earth."

"Uh, may I point out that we saw just a bit of Earth-ten, on a moonless night?"

"Meaning we didn't see it. Conceded."

Aunt Hilda said, "I told you it was Barsoom. You wouldn't listen."

"Hilda, I apologize. 'Barsoom.' Copilot, log it. New planet, 'Barsoom,' named by right of discovery by Hilda Corners Burroughs, Science Officer of Continua Craft Gay Deceiver. We'll all witness: Z. J. Carter, Commanding-Jacob J. Burroughs, Chief Officer-D. T. B. Carter, uh, Astrogator. I'll send certified copies to Harvard Observatory as soon as possible."

"I'm not astrogator, Zebadiah!"

"Mutiny. Who reprogrammed this cloud buster into a continua craft? I'm pilot until I can train all of you in Gay's little quirks. Jake is copilot until he can train more copilots in setting the verniers. You are astrogator because nobody else can acquire your special knowledge of programming and skill at calculation. None of your lip, young woman, and don't fight the Law of Space. Sharpie is chief of science because of her breadth of knowledge. She not only recognized a new planet as not being Mars quicker than anyone else but carved up that double-joined alien with the skill of a born butcher. Right, Jake?"

"Sure thing!" agreed Pop.

"Cap'n Zebbie," Aunt Hilda drawled, "I'm science officer if you say so. But I had better be ship's cook, too. And cabin boy."

"Certainly, we all have to wear more than one hat. Log it, Copilot. 'Here's to our jolly cabin girl, the plucky little nipper-'"

"Don't finish it. Zebbie," Aunt Hilda cut in, "I don't like the way the plot develops."

'-she carves fake ranger,

Dubs planet stranger,

And dazzles crew and skipper."

Aunt Hilda looked thoughtful. "That's not the classic version. I like the sentiment better... though the scansion limps."

"Sharpie darling, you are a floccinaucinihilipilificatrix." "Is that a compliment?"

'Certainly! Means you're so sharp you spot the slightest flaw."

I kept quiet. It was possible that Zebadiah meant it as a compliment. Just barely- "Maybe I'd better check it in a dictionary."

"By all means, dear-after you are off watch." (I dismissed the matter. Merriam Microfilm was all we had aboard and Aunt Hilda would not find that word in anything less than the O.E.D.)

"Copilot, got it logged?"

"Captain, I didn't know we had a log."

"No log? Even Vanderdecken keeps a log. Deety, the log falls in your department. Take your father's notes, get what you need from Gay, and let's have a taut ship. First time we pass a Woolworth's we'll pick up a journal and you can transcribe it-notes taken now are your rough log."

"Aye aye, sir. Tyrant."

"Tyrant,' sir, please. Meanwhile let's share the binoculars and see if we can spot any colorful exotic natives in colorful exotic costumes singing colorful exotic songs with their colorful exotic hands out for baksheesh. First one to spot evidence of intelligent life gets to wash the dishes."

"We'll hit so hard we'll hardly notice it."

Hilda:

I was so flattered by Cap'n Zebbie's crediting me with "discovering" Barsoom that I pretended not to understand the jibe he added. It was unlikely that Deety would know such a useless word, or my beloved Jacob. It was gallant of Zeb to give in all the way, once he realized that this planet was unlike its analog in "our" universe. Zebbie is a funny one-he wears rudeness like a Hallowe'en mask, afraid that someone will discover the Galahad underneath.

I knew that "my" Barsoom was not the planet of the classic romances. But there are precedents: The first nuclear submarine was named for an imaginary undersea vessel made famous by Jules Verne; an aircraft carrier of the Second Global War had been named "Shangri La" for a land as nonexistent as "Erewhon"; the first space freighter had been named for a starship that existed only in the hearts of its millions of fans-the list is endless. Nature copies art.

Or as Deety put it: "Truth is more fantastic than reality."

During that hour Barsoom rushed at us. It began to swell and swell, so rapidly that binoculars were a nuisance-and my heart swelled with it, in childlike joy. Deety and I unstrapped so that we could see better, floating just "above" and behind our husbands while steadying ourselves on their headrests,

We were seeing it in half phase, one half dark, the other in sunlight-ocher and umber and olive green and brown and all of it beautiful.

Our pilot and copilot did not sightsee; Zebbie kept taking sights, kept Jacob busy calculating. At last he said, "Copilot, if our approximations are correct,

at the height at which we will get our first radar range, we will be only a bit over half a minute from crashing. Check?"

"To the accuracy of our data, Captain."

"Too close. I don't fancy arriving like a meteor. Is it time to hit the panic button? Advise, please-but bear in mind that puts us-should put us-two klicks over a hot, new crater....ossibly in the middle of a radioactive cloud. Ideas?"

"Captain, we can do that just before crashing-and it either works or it doesn't. If it works, that radioactive cloud will have had more time to blow away. If it doesn't work-"

"We'll hit so hard we'll hardly notice it. Gay Deceiver isn't built to reenter at twenty-four klicks per second. She's beefed up-but she's still a Ford, not a reentry vehicle."

"Captain, I can try to subtract the planet's orbital speed. We've time to make the attempt."

"Fasten seat belts and report! Move it, gals!"

Free fall is funny stuff. I was over that deathly sickness-was enjoying weightlessness, but didn't know how to move in it. Nor did Deety. We floundered the way one does the first time on ice skates-only worse.

TReport, damn it!"

Deety got a hand on something, grabbed me. We started getting into seats- she in mine, I in hers. "Strapping down, Captain!" she called out, while frantically trying to loosen my belts to fit her. (I was doing the same in reverse.)

"Speed it up!"

Deety reported, "Seat belts fastened," while still getting her chest belt buckled-by squeezing out all her breath. I reached over and helped her loosen it.

"Copilot."

"Captain!"

"Along 'L' axis, subtract vector twenty-four klicks per second-and for God's sake don't get the signs reversed."

"I won't!"

"Execute."

Seconds later Jacob reported, "That does it, Captain. I hope."

"Let's check. Two readings, ten seconds apart. I'll call the first, you call the end of ten seconds. Mark!"

Zeb added, "One point two. Record."

After what seemed a terribly long time Jacob said, "Seven seconds... eight seconds... nine seconds....ark!"

Our men conferred, then Jacob said, "Captain, we are still falling too fast."

"Of course," said Deety. "We've been accelerating from gravity. Escape speed for Mars is five klicks per second. If Barsoom has the same mass as Mars-"

"Thank you, Astrogator. Jake, can you trim off, uh, four klicks per second?"

"Sure!"

"Do it."

"Uh....one! How does she look?"

"Uh....istance slowly closing. Hello, Gay."

"Howdy, Zeb."

"Program. Radar. Target dead ahead. Range."

"No reading."

"Continue ranging. Report first reading. Add program. Display running radar ranges to target."