We ate breakfast in basic Barsoomian dress: skin. Aunt Hilda pointed out that laundries seemed scarce, and the car's water tanks had to be saved for drinking and cooking. "Deety, I have just this dress you gave me; I'll air it and let the wrinkles hang out. Panties, too. An air bath is better than no bath. I know you'll divvy with me but you are no closer to a laundry than I am."

My jump suit joined Hilda's dress. "Aunt Hilda, you could skip bathing a week. Me, right after a bath I have a body odor but not too bad. In twentyfour hours I'm whiff. Forty-eight and I smell like a skunk. An air bath may help."

The same reasoning caused our men to spread their used clothing on the port wing, and caused Zebadiah to pick up Hilda's cape. "Sharpie, you can't get fur Hollanderized in this universe. Jake, you stowed some tarps?"

After dishes were "washed" (scoured with turf, placed in the sun) we were sleepy. Zebadiah wanted us to sleep inside, doors locked. Aunt Hilda and I wanted to nap on a tarpaulin in the shade of the car. I pointed out that moving rear seats aft in refitting had made it impossible to recline them.

Zebadiah offered to give up his seat to either of us women. I snapped, "Don't be silly, dear! You barely fit into a rear seat and it brings your knees so far forward that the seat in front can't be reclined."

Pop intervened. "Hold it! Daughter, I'm disappointed-snapping at your husband. But, Zeb, we've got to rest. If I sleep sitting up, I get swollen ankles, half crippled, not good for much."

"I was trying to keep us safe," Zebadiah said plaintively.

"I know, Son; you've been doing so-and a smart job, or we all would be dead three times over. Deety knows it, I know it, Hilda knows it-"

"I sure do, Zebbie!"

"My Captain, I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"We'll need you later. Flesh has its limits-even yours. If necessary, we would bed you down and stand guard over you-"

"No!"

"We sure would, Zebbie!"

"We will, my Captain."

"But I doubt that it's necessary. When we sat on the ground to eat, did anyone get chigger bites or anything?"

My husband shook his head.

"Not me," Aunt Hilda agreed.

I added, "I saw some little beasties but they didn't bother me."

"~pparently," Pop went on, "they don't like our taste. A ferocious-looking dingus sniffed at my ankle-but it scurried away. Zeb, Gay can hear better than we can?"

"Oh, much better!"

"Can her radar be programmed to warn us?"

Zebadiah looked thoughtful. "Uh....nti-collision alarm would wake the dead. If I pulled it in to minimum range, then- No, the display would be cluttered with 'grass.' We're on the ground. False returns."

I said, "Subtract static display, Zebadiah."

"Eh? How, Deety?"

"Gay can do it. Shall I try?"

"Deety, if you switch on radar, we have to sleep inside. Microwaves cook your brains."

"I know, sir. Gay has sidelookers, eyes fore and aft, belly, and umbrella- has she not?"

"Yes. That's why-"

"Switch off her belly eye. Can sidelookers hurt us if we sleep under her?" His eyes widened. "Astrogator, you know more about my car than I do. I'd better sign her over to you."

"My Captain, you have already endowed me with all your worldly goods. I don't know more about Gay; I know more about programming."

We made a bed under the car by opening Zebadiah's sleeping bag out flat, a tarpaulin on each side. Aunt Hilda dug out sheets: "In case anyone gets chilly."

"Unlikely," Pop told her. "Hot now, not a cloud and no breeze."

"Keep it by you, dearest. Here's one for Zebbie." She dropped two more on the sleeping bag, lay down on it. "Down flat, gentlemen"-waited for them to comply, then called to me: 'Deety! Everybody's down."

From inside I called back, 'Right with you!"-then said, "Hello, Gay."

"Hi, Deety!"

"Retrieve newest program. Execute."

Five scopes lighted, faded to dimness; the belly eye remained blank. I told her, "You're a good girl, Gay."

"I like you, too, Deety. Over."

"Roger and out, sister." I scrunched down, got at the stowage under the instrument board, pulled out padding and removed saber and sword, each with belt. These I placed at the door by a pie tin used at breakfast. I slithered head first out the door, turned without rising, got swords and pie plate, and crawled toward the pallet, left arm cluttered with hardware.

I stopped. "Your sword, Captain."

"Deety! Do I need a sword to nap?"

"No, sir. I shall sleep soundly knowing that my captain has his sword."

"Hmm-" Zebadiah withdrew it a span, returned it with a click. "Silly... but I feel comforted by it, too."

"I see nothing silly, sir. Ten hours ago you killed a thing with it that would have killed me."

"I stand-sprawl-corrected, my Princess. Dejah Thoris is always correct."

"I hope my Chieftain will always think so."

"He will. Give me a big kiss. What's the pie pan for?"

"Radar alarm test."

Having delivered the kiss, I crawled past Hilda and handed Pop his saber. He grinned at me. "Deety hon, you're a one! Just the security blanket I need. How did you know?"

"Because Aunt Hilda and I need it. With our warriors armed, we will sleep soundly." I kissed Pop, crawled out from under. "Cover your ears!"

I got to my knees, sailed that pan far and high, dropped flat and covered my ears. As the pan sailed into the zone of microwave radiation, a horrid clamor sounded inside the car, kept up until the pan struck the ground and stopped rolling-chopped off. "Somebody remind me to recover that. Good night, all!"

I crawled back, stretched out by Hilda, kissed her goodnight, set the clock in my head for six hours, went to sleep.

The sun was saying that it was fourteen instead of fourteen-fifteen and I decided that my circadian did not fit Barsoom. Would the clock in my head "slow" to match a day forty minutes longer? Would it give me trouble? Not likely-I've always been able to sleep anytime. I felt grand and ready for anything.

I crept off the pallet, snaked up into the car's cabin, and stretched. Felt good!

I crawled through the bulkhead door back of th~ rp~r ~ ~rM

and my jewelry case, went forward into the space between seats and instrument board.

I tried tying a filmy green scarf as a bikini bottom, but it looked like a diaper. I took it off, folded it corner to corner, pinned it at my left hip with a jeweled brooch. Lots better! "Indecently decent" Pop Would say.

I looped a rope of imitation pearls around my hips, arranged strands to drape with the cloth, fastened them at the brooch. I hung around my neck a pendant of pearls and cabochon emeralds-from my father the day I received the title doctor of philosophy.

I was adding bracelets and rings when I heard "Psst!"-looked down and saw the Hillbilly's head and hands at the doorsill. Hilda put a finger to her lips. I nodded, gave her a hand up, whispered, "Still asleep?"

"Like babies."

"Let's get you dressed... 'Princess Thuvia."

Aunt Hilda giggled. "Thank you... 'Princess' Dejah Thoris." "Want anything but jewelry?"

"Just something to anchor it. That old-gold scarf if you can spare it."

"Course I can! Nothing's too good for my Aunt Thuvia and that scarf is durn near nothing. Baby doll, we're going to deck you out for the auction block. Will you do my hair?"

"And you mine. Deety-I mean 'Dejah Thoris'-I miss a three-way mirror."

"We'll be mirrors for each other," I told her. "I don't mind camping out. My great-great-great-grandmother had two babies in a sod house. Except"-I ducked my head, sniffed my armpit-"we'd better find a stream." I added, "Hold still. Or shall I pin it through your skin?"

"Either way, dear. We'll find water-all this ground cover."