She can't take any avoidable risk herself; her life does not belong to her; it belongs to her command.

When the captaincy was thrust on me, I decided that we would stay where we were until Gay Deceiver was reorganized so that all four of us could sleep comfortably and safely-no swollen ankles.

Sharpie hadn't thought of this; Captain Hilda Burroughs thought of it at once. Captain Zebbie had thought of it when we first grounded, then had let himself be overruled.

I knew that I could rearrange the car to let us all sleep behind locked doors. But it would take time, sweat, and muscles, and I had just proclaimed an order that would take one or both sets of big muscles off the job for... how many times a day? Four people? Such needs can't be hurried. I had a horrid suspicion that having someone standing over you with a rifle, even your nearest and dearest, might cause a healthy reflex to fail.

What to do?

Cancel the order?

No!

Cancel if a better scheme turned up. But don't cancel without finding some-

thing better. This was a pretty spot, but there still might be that "banth." Or bandersnatch. Or boojum. Especially a boojum. What if Zebbie should wander off that distance dictated by modesty and/or relaxation of nerves....nd "softly and silently vanish away"?

And it was Zebbie I was having trouble wit h-Zebbie, who wasn't going to give the new captain any back talk whatsoever. "Cap'n Hilda honey, I don't need a chaperon, honest. I'll carry my rifle and guard myself. No problem. Safety off and a cartridge under the firing pin. Promise."

"Zebbie, I am not asking you, I am telling you."

"But I don't like to leave you girls unguarded!"

"Chief Pilot."

"Ma'am. Captain."

"I am not a girl. I am eleven years your senior."

"I simply meant-"

"Pipe down!"

The poor dear's ears turned red but he shut up. I said, "Astrogator!"

"Huh? Yes, Captain Auntie."

"Can you use a rifle?"

"Oh, sure, Pop made me learn. But I don't like a rifle; I like my shotgun." "Take the Chief Pilot's rifle and guard the camp-"

"Look, I can do it better with my shotgun."

"Pipe down and carry out your orders."

Deety looked startled, trotted over to Zebbie, who surrendered his rifle without comment, face frozen. "Copilot," I said to my husband, "arm yourself with rifle and pistol, go with the Chief Pilot, guard him while he does what he has to do."

Zebbie swallowed. "Sharpie-I mean 'Captain Sharpie.' It won't be necessary. The golden moment has passed. All this talk."

"Chief Pilot, please refrain from using my nickname while I am your commanding officer. Copilot, carry out your orders. Remain with the Chief Pilot and guard him continuously as long as necessary to accomplish the purpose of the trip." (If Zebbie meant "constipation"-an emotional to-do can have that effect-I would act later in my capacity as "medical officer"-and it would not take four husky orderlies to make Zebbie hold still. The authority of a commanding officer almost never requires force. Odd but true-I wondered how I knew that.)

Once our men were out of earshot, I said, "Deety, could I learn to shoot that rifle?"

"I'm not sure I'm speaking to you. You humiliated my husband... when we all owe him so much."

"Astrogator!"

Deety's eyes got wide. "Good God-it's gone to your head!"

"Astrogator."

"Uh... yes, Captain."

"You will refrain from personal remarks to me or about me during my

tenure as commanding officer. Acknowledge that order, then log it."

Deety's face assumed the expression that means that she has shut out the world. "Aye aye, Captain. Gay Deceiver!"

"Hello, Deety!"

"Log mode. The Captain has ordered the Astrogator to refrain from personal remarks to her or about her during her tenure as commanding officer. I acknowledge receipt of order and will comply. Log date, time, and Bingo code. I tell you three times."

"Deety, I hear you three times."

"Back to sleep, Gay."

"Roger and out."

Deety turned to me, face and voice normal again. "Captain, I can teach you to shoot in such a way that you won't get a sore shoulder or be knocked down. But to become a good shot with a rifle takes a long time. My shotgun doesn't kick as hard... and you won't need skill."

"I thought a shotgun was more difficult."

"Depends. A shotgun is usually for surprise targets in the air. That takes skill. But for a stationary target-within range-it's about like a garden hose. The shot spreads in a cone. So easy that it's not sporting."

"Not sporting' suits me. Will you show me how? What kind of target do we need?"

"It ought to be a large sheet of paper to show how the shot spreads. But, Captain, you know what will happen if I fire a gun?"

"What?"

"We will have two men back here at a dead run-one of them trying to dress as he runs. I don't think he'll be pleased."

"Meaning I shouldn't get Zebbie angry twice in ten minutes."

"It might be your husband. Stands to reason that they'll both take care of needs before returning. If I fire a shot, I'd better have a dead body to show for it, or one or the other will blow his top. Or both."

"Both! Thanks, Deety-I didn't think it through."

"But also, the Captain will recall that she ordered me to guard camp. I can't teach shooting at the same time."

(Sharpie, can't you do anything right?) "No, of course you can't! Deety, I'm off to a bad start. All of you annoyed at me and one, maybe two, really angry."

"Does the Captain expect me to comment?"

"Deety, can't you call me 'Aunt flilda'?" I wasn't crying-I've trained myself not to. But I needed to. "Yes, I want your comment."

"Captain Aunt Hilda, I need to call you by your title to keep myself reminded that you are captain. Since you ordered me to refrain from personal remarks to you or about you, I needed a second order before I could comment."

"As bad as that? Don't spare me but make it quick."

"The Captain hasn't done badly."

"I haven't? Deety, don't fib to Hilda; you never used to."

"And I'm not going to now. Captain, I think you are off to a good start."

"But you said it had gone to my head!"

"I was wrong. I realized how wrong when I was logging your order to me. What I said was worse than anything I said to Zebadiah while he was captain- he required me to review in my mind all the things I've said... and at least twice he should have given me a fat lip"-Deety smiled grimly-"cept that Zebadiah couldn't bring himself to strike a woman even if she weren't pregnant. Captain-Captain Aunt Hilda honey-Zebadiah didn't crack down on us when he should have. He turned over to you a gang of rugged individualists, not one with any concept of discipline. I certainly had none. But I do now."

"I'm not sure that I do," I said miserably.

"It means obeying orders you don't like and strongly disagree with-with no back talk. 'Into the jaws of death rode the six hundred.' Zebadiah would not do that to us... but he did let us annoy him into testing my new Bug-Out program. He had told me that the test was a useless risk; I should have agreed because it was useless. Instead I gave him a snooty 'No comment,' and you were as bad and Pop was worse. Mmm.... don't think Zebadiah has had much experience as a commanding officer."

"Why so, Deety? He is a captain."

"That doesn't mean that he has ever been a commanding officer. He has soloed quite a lot, in fighters. He has logged control time in larger craft or he wouldn't hold a command pilot rating. But has he ever actually commanded? Nothing he has said to me indicated it... but he did tell me that before the last war a major was often captain of an air-and-space craft but now it almost always took a lieutenant colonel while majors wound up as copilots. He was explaining why he liked one-man fighters so well. Aunt Hilda-Captain-I think commanding was as new to Zebadiah as it is to you. Like sex, or having a baby, you can't understand it till you've tried it." She suddenly grinned. "So don't hold Zebadiah's mistakes against him."