"I'm refusing to notice it now and find it just as difficult as I did that afternoon. Stop it,please!" He did. "Thanks, dear. You got me all shaky. Zebbie, do you think Deety thinks I rigged this to get you alone? I would not willingly upset her."

"On the contrary. She gave me a hunting license concerning you-you, not females in general-ten days back. In writing."

"Really?"

"In writing so that she could limit it. I am required not to run any risk of hurting Jake."

"You haven't tried to use that license."

"I took it as a compliment to you and to me, kissed Deety and thanked her. You settled this four years ago. But I've sometimes wondered why. I'm young, healthy, take care of my teeth, and keep my nails clean-mostly-and you seemed to like me. What made me ineligible? Not complaining, dear, just asking."

I tried to explain the difference between a male friend and a bedmate-the scarcity of the first, the boring plethora of applicants for the other.

He listened, then shook his head. "Masochism."

"Hasn't it worked out better this way? I do love you, Zebbie."

"I know you do, Sharpie." Zebbie turned me around and looked down into my eyes. "And I love you and you know that, too"-and he kissed me.

That kiss went on and neither of us seemed inclined to stop. My towel Slipped to the ground. I noticed because it felt better to be closer and ever so much nicer to have his hands on me. Zebbie hadn't given me a sexy kiss since the day I hadinvited a pass and then ignored it.

I began to wonder why I had decided to ignore it. Then I was wondering how much time we had left in our schedule. Then I knew the exact time....or

that infernal, earsplitting siren sounded. God watches over Hilda Mae and that's why I keep Him on my payroll. But sometimes He is rough about it.

We let go. I put on Deety's Keds, slid my borrowed dress over my head, hung the towel over my arm-elapsed time: nine seconds. Zebbie was again carrying his rifle at the ready (is that correct?-both hands, I mean).

"Captain, shall we go?"

"Yes, Chief Pilot. Zebbie, when did I become 'captain' again? Just from putting on clothes? You've seen this old hide before."

"Skin has nothing to do with it, Captain. Quoting Deety quoting the Japanese: 'Nakedness is often seen but never noticed.' Except that sometimes I do notice, hot diggity dog and other comments. You have superior skin, Captain. You went back to being Captain when I picked up my rifle. But I was never off duty. Did you notice, when I dried you, that I picked you up and swung you around, so that I faced the bank? I kept alert even while I was nuzzling you... and you make fine nuzzle, Captain Step-Mother-in-Law Hilda."

"So do you, Zebbie. I'm still Sharpie till we get to your car." We reached the top of the bank. "Ten seconds to catch my breath. Zebbie-"

"Yes, Sharpie?"

"Four years ago- I'm sorry I turned away your pass."

He patted my bottom. "So am I, dear. But it has worked out quite well. And"-he grinned that irresistible, ugly grin-"who knows?-we aren't dead yet."

When we arrived, Jacob was slurping soup. "You're late," he stated. "So we~ waited."

"So I see."

"Don't listen to Pop, Captain Auntie; you are two minutes seventeen seconds ahead of time. Are you sure you stayed in long enough to get clean?"

"I stayed in long enough to get freezing cold. Aren't you chilly?" Deety had worn skin most of the day and so had I; we had been doing sweaty work. But she had been dressed when I last saw her. "Jacob, is there no soup for Zebbie and me?"

"A smidgen. You get this pan as soon as I'm through-now!-and that means one less dish to wash."

"And Zebadiah gets mine-also now-and I took that jump suit off because it's dirty and I'm clean. I still haven't figured out how to do a laundry. Nothing for a tub, no way to heat water. What's that other way? Pound them on a rock the way it shows in National Geographic? I don't believe it!"

We were in bed by sundown, Gay's doors locked-pitch dark in minutes. According to Deety and Gay sunrise was ten hours and forty-three minutes away. "Deety, please tell Gay to wake us at sunrise."

"Aye aye, Captain Auntie."

"Zebbie, you told us that the air in the car was good for about four hours."

"In space; The scoops are open now."

"But do you get air back there? Should the bulkhead door be open?"

"Oh. Top scoop serves this space. The cabin is ventilated by the chin scoop. Scoops stay open unless internal pressure closes them."

"Can anything get in through them? Snakes or such?"

"Hilda my dear, you worry too much."

"My very own darling Copilot, will you please pipe down while I'm speaking to the Chief Pilot? There are many things about this car that I do not know- yet I am responsible."

Zebbie answered, "Each scoo~ has a grid inside and a fine screen at the inner end; nothing can get in. Have to clean 'em occasionally. Remind me, Deety."

"I'll tell Gay." She did-and almost at once there was a crash of metal. I sat up abruptly. "What's that?"

"Hilda, I am afraid that I have kicked over the supper dishes." My husband added, "Zeb, how do I find the cabin light?"

"No, no! Jacob, don't try to find it. No light at all until sunrise. Don't fret about dishes. But what happened? I thought they were under the instrument board."

"I couldn't quite reach with this bed made up. But the carton that supports my feet sticks out beyond the seat cushion on it. So I stacked them there."

"No harm done. We can expect bobbles as we shake down."

"I suppose so."

"We can cope. Jacob, that was an excellent dinner."

Deety called out, "Good night, chatterboxes! We want to sleep." She closed the bulkhead door, dogged it.

"The farce is over."

Jake:

For me, the best soporific is to hold Hilda in my arms. I slept ten hours.

I might have slept longer had I not been blasted by a bugle call: Reveille.

I thought I was back in basic, tried to rouse out fast-banged my head. That slowed me; I reoriented, saw my lovely bride beside me, yawning prettily- realized that we were on Mars.

Mars! Not even our own Mars but another universe.

That hateful tune started to repeat, louder.

I banged on the bulkhead. "How do you shut this thing off?"

Shortly I saw dogs of the bulkhead door turning, then the door swung-as the call went into its third time around still louder. Zeb showed, blinking.

"Do you have a problem?" -

I couldn't hear but I could piece out what he meant.

"HOW DO YOU SHUT OFF THIS RACKET?"

"No problem." (I think that's what he said.) "Good morning, Gay." The bugle faded into the distance. "Good morning, Boss."

"I'm awake."

"Ah, but will you stay awake?"

"I won't go back to bed. Promise."

"I've dealt with your sort before, me bucko. If you aren't out of here before my landlady wakes up, I'll lose this room. Then another hassle with the cops. It's not worth it... you cheapskate!"

"You're a smart girl, Gay.'~

"So smart I'm looking for another job."

"Back to sleep, Gay. Over."

"Roger and out, Boss"-and blessed silence.

I said to my daughter, "Deety, how could you do this to us?"

Her husband answered. "Deety didn't, Jake. She was told to place a call for sunrise. But didn't know what a morning call means to Gay."

I grumped, and opened the starboard door. Hilda's rearrangements had given me the best rest I had had in days. But two double beds in a sports car left no room on arising to do anything but get out.