I never saw whether or not he made the catch; Cap'n Zebbie commanded, "Gay Bounce!" and the scene blacked out while the colonel's hand was open for the catch.

Zebbie was saying, "Jake, I lost my temper. I should not have done it; it ruined our last chance to deal with those Russians. But I hope it taught the ruddy snarf not to go around hammering dents into other people's cars."

"Captain, you did not ruin our 'last chance'; we never had one. You ran into classic Russian xenophobia. The Commies didn't invent that attitude; it goes back at least a thousand years. Read your history." Jacob added, "I'm not sorry you burned his kite. I wish he had to walk home. Regrettably one of his craft will pick him up."

"Jake, if I could afford to-in juice, in time-I would go back and keep him from being picked up. Harry them, not let them land. I won't. Hmm- Shall we fall a bit farther and see what they are doing? Before we get on with our interrupted schedule?"

"Uh... Captain, may I have a Bonine pill?"

I squealed, "Me, too!"

"Deety, take care of 'em. I'll put her in dive and we'll look."

"Captain, why not use the B, U, G, program?"

"Deety, somebody might be on that spot. Wups! I'm biting air." Cap'n Zebbie leaned us over, placed Barsoom-I mean "Mars"-Mars-lO or whatever-dead ahead. "Should spot flappy birds in few minutes. Jake, how about binoculars?"

Zebbie didn't want them himself while piloting. We passed them around and I spotted an ornithopter, then two more, and passed the glasses to Deety.

"Zebadiah, there is no one where we were parked."

"You're certain?"

"Yessir. The colonel's scoutabout is stifl burning; there are peop'e near it, nowhere e'se. That's why I'm certain there is no one where we were. B, U, G, 0, U, T is safe"

Zebbie was slow to answer. How about it, folks? It wou'd be an unnecessary risk. Just one squawk and I'll skip it,"

I kept quiet and hoped the others would, too, I don't worry; I'm going to live as tong as Atropos permits-meanwhile I intend to enjoy every minute. Zebbie waited, then said, "Here we go. Gay-Bug Out!"

-right theory, wrong universe.

Zeb:

Deety is going to force me to look like a hero because I don't have the guts to let her down. I thought my copilot would veto going back to the scene of the crime; Jake is level-headed about safety precautions. I didn't count on Sharpie; she's unpredictable. But I thought Jake would object.

He didn't. I waited until I was certain that no one was going to get me off the spot... then waited some more... then said sadly, "Here we go," and told Gay to "BUG OUT!"

I expected to be a mushroom cloud. Instead we were parked where we had been and the colonel's craft was burning briskly. (Someday I am going to run that experiment: a transition to attempt to cause two masses to occupy the same space. But I won't be part of the experiment. The Bug-Out program scared me, and I liked the Take-Us-Home program a lot better after we made it two klicks H-above-G instead of parked. Could the Bug-Out program be modified so that Gay sneaked up on her target, checked it by radar, before accepting it? Take it up with Deety, Zeb-stick to what you know!)

The Russians appeared to be slow to notice our return. One ornithopter had grounded not far from the fire; there were several bystanders. I could not see whether or not my erstwhile arresting officer, Colonel Somethingsky, was in the group. I assumed that he was.

Then I was sure: A figure broke loose and headed toward us, waving a pistol. I said briskly, "Shipmates, is there any reason to hang around?"

I waited a short beat. "Hearing no objection-Gay Bounce!"

That black sky looked good. I wondered how Bumpsky was going to explain to the Grand Duke. Brass Hats are notoriously reluctant to believe unlikely stories.

"Did I bounce too quickly? Have you all seen what you wanted to see?"

Only Deety answered. "I was checking that program. I think I see a way to avoid two masses conflicting."

"Keep talking."

"Gay could sneak up on the target, inspect it by radar, accept it and ground, or refuse it and bounce-with no loss of time and with the same execute code. That spot could be knee-deep in Russians and Gay would simply whoosh us to where we are now."

(I said to leave it to Deety. You heard me.) "Good idea. Do it. Can't have too many fail-safes."

"I'll reprogram when we stop."

"Correction. I want that fail-safe programmed now. I might need your revised program any moment."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Captain darling,' if you please. If you must call me 'Captain.' Then review all preprograms and debug them, if necessary, with analogous fail-safes. And any new ones in the future. Now- Just put her into glide, headed west, and transit three minima?"

"Or more. Or less. I thought that a spot check every thirty kilometers would be about right for a rapid survey."

"What altitude will we wind up? Assuming I simply aim her at the horizon and transit tangent to the curve."

"Oh. What altitude do you want, Captain-Captain darling? A tangent does little in three minima, just a touch over a hundred meters. Is ten kilometers about right?"

"Ten klicks is fine. I could aim at the horizon, make transition, then at once give the B, 0, U, N, C, E order."

"So you could, Zebadiah, but if you will use the horizon as reference and aim eighteen and a half degrees above it- Will your gunsight depress that far?"

"No, but I'll tell Gay. No problem."

"Three minima on that upward slant will place you ten klicks H-above-G and a couple of klicks short of three minima on the curve."

"Plus my present altitude."

"No, no! Visualize the triangle, Zebadiah. It makes no real difference whether you do this from ten klicks H-above-G, or parked on the ground. Do you want exact figures?"

"You visualize triangles, Deety; that's your department. I've got air bite now; I'm going to head west; I want to see where those ornithopters came from. Meantime work out that new fail-safe." Did it really make no difference whether I started from ten thousand meters or right on deck? Didn't I have to add in- No, of course not....ut one way was sine and the other way was tan. But which one? Hell, it didn't matter; Deety was right. She always is, on figures-but someday I'm going to work it carefully, on paper, with diagrams and tables. "Copilot."

"Captain."

"L axis, transit, three minima."

"Transition, L axis, thirty kilometers-set!"

"Gay Deceiver."

"I'm not at home but you may record a message."

"Change attitude to climb eighteen point five degrees and report."

"Roger Wilco. Climbing. Ten. Twelve. Fourteen. Sixteen. Eighteen. Mark!"

"Execute!"

We were somewhere else with black sky. "Gay, vertical dive. Execute."

"No trouble, Clyde; enjoy the ride."

"Zebadiah, may I talk with Gay while you look over the terrain? To reprogram that fail-safe."

"Sure, go ahead. Jake, want to scan with binox while I eyeball it? I'll warn before transition."

"Zebadiah, I could give her a scouting program, automatic. Skip the verfliers, skip the climb order; just an 'execute' code word. Place her on course... or I could include course."

"I'll head her manually; the rest is swell-after that fail-safe. What's the code word?"

"'Scout'?"

"Good. Include the 'execute' idea in the code word. Deety, I've decided that I love you for your brain. Not those irrelevant physical attributes."

"Zebadiah, once I've had a bath you may change your mind. I've had a sudden attack of brain fever. You had better program her yourself."