So I slid out the door, groped for the step, paused to ask Hilda for shoes and coverall-caught sight of something and said quietly, "Hilda. My rifle. Quickly!"

My little treasure is always reliable in emergency; her clowning is simply persona. (A most pleasant one; the worst aspect of the jest of making her "captain" was that she lost her smile-I hoped that Zeb would soon resume command. We had needed the lesson-but no need to go on.)

I digress- I asked for my rifle; she whispered, "Roger," and had it in my hand at once with the quiet report: "Locked, one in the chamber. Wait-I'm getting Zeb."

That made sense. By staying on the step in the corner formed by door and car, my rear was safe and I need cover only a small sector. I prefer a bolt action-correction: I have a bolt-action rifle I inherited from my father's eldest brother, who had "liberated" it on leaving the Marine Corps.

I unlocked it, opened the bolt slightly, saw that a cartridge was in the chamber, closed the bolt, left the piece unlocked.

Zeb said at my ear, softly, "What's the excitement?"

"Over there." I pulled my head out of the way, saw Hilda and Deety almost on top of Zeb-Hilda with Deety's shotgun, Deety with her husband's police special.

Zeb said, "Pixies. They may still be around; let's check. Cover me from here?"

"No, Zeb. You to the right, me to the left, we check the port side, meet back at the dump. Make it fast."

"Say the word." Zeb said over his shoulder, "You girls stay in the car. Jake?"

"Now!" We came bursting out like greyhounds, guns at high port. The reason for my disquiet was simple: The dump of wrappings and cartons was no longer a heap. Something had spread it over many meters, and the litter was not nearly enough to account for the pile. Wind? Zeb had left the wings extended; the slightest wind would wake him, warn him of change in weather. The car had not rocked in the night; ergo, no wind. Ergo, nocturnal visitors. Nor were they small.

I rounded the car to the left, seeing nothing until I spotted Zeb-waved at him, started back around to join him at the dump.

He arrived before I did. "I told you girls to stay in the car!" He was quite angry, and the cause, both of them, were also at the dump.

My darling answered, "Chief Pilot."

Zeb said, "Huh? Sharpie, there's no time for that; there's something dangerous around! You girls get inside before I-"

"Pipe DOWN!"

One would not believe that so small a body could produce such a blast. It caught Zeb mouth open and jammed his words down his throat.

Hilda did not give him opportunity to answer. She continued, forcefully:

"Chief Pilot, there are no 'girls' here; there are four adult humans. One of them is my second-in-command and executive officer. My executive officer; I am in command." Hilda looked at my daughter. "Astrogator, did you tell anyone to remain in the car?"

"No, Captain." Deety was wearing her "Name, rank, and serial number" face.

"Nor did I." Hilda looked at Zeb. "There is no need to discuss it." She stirred litter with a toe. "I had hoped that we could find salvage. But three fourths of it has been eaten. By large animals from those tooth marks. I would have trouble visualizing a large animal that eats cellulose but is nevertheless carnivorous-save that I know one. So we will get as much done as possible while keeping a tight guard. I have the program planned but I'm open to advice."

"Hilda!" I let my tone get a bit sharp.

My wife looked around with features as impassive as those of my daughter. "Copilot, are you addressing me officially or socially?"

"Uh... as your husband! I must put my foot down! Hilda, you don't realize the situation. We'll lift as soon as possible-and Zeb will be in command. The farce is over."

I hated to speak to my beloved that way but sometimes one must. I braced myself for a blast.

None came. Hilda turned to Zeb and said quietly, "Chief Pilot, was my election a farce?"

"No, Captain."

"Astrogator, did you think of it as farce?"

"Me? Heavens, no, Captain Auntie!"

Hilda looked at me. "Jacob, from the balloting you voted for me at least once, possibly three times. Were you joking?"

I could not remember how I had felt when it dawned on me that Zeb really did intend to resign-panic, I think, that I was about to be stuck with the job. That was now irrelevant as I knew that I was not more than one micron from again being a bachelor... so I resorted to Higher Truth.

"No, no, my darling-my darling Captain! I was dead serious!"

"Did you find some malfeasance?"

"What? No! I- I made a mistake. Jumped to conclusions. I assumed that we would be leaving at once....nd that Zeb would command once we lifted. After all, it's his car."

Hilda gave me the briefest smile. "There is something to that last argument. Zebbie, did you intend-"

"Wait a half! Cap'n, that car belongs to all of us just like Jake's Milky Way bars; we pooled resources."

"So I have heard you all say. Since I had nothing to pool but a fur cape, I took it with a grain of salt. Zebbie, do you intend to resume command when, we lift?"

"Captain, the only way you can quit is by resigning... whereupon Deety would be captain."

"No, sirree!" (My daughter is notoften that shrill.)

"Then Jake would wind up holding the sack. Captain, I'll pilot when ordered, chop wood and carry water between times. But I didn't sign up to boss a madhouse. I think you're finding out what I mean."

"I think so, too, Zebbie. You thought there was an emergency and started giving orders. I would not want that to happen in a real emergency-"

"It won't! Captain."

"And I find to my chagrin that my husband considers me to be a play captain. I think I must ask for a vote of confidence. Will you please find something to use as white and black balls?"

"Captain Auntie!"

"Yes, dear?"

"I am required to advise you. A commanding officer commands; she doesn't ask for votes. You can resign-or-die-or lose to a mutiny and get hanged' from your own yardarm. But if you take a vote, you're not a captain; you're a politician."

"Deety's right, Captain," Zeb told my wife. "Had a case-law case in R.O.T.C. Naval vessel. Department told the skipper to pick one of two ports for ho1idays.~ He let his crew vote on it. Word got back to Washington and he was relieved~ at sea by his second-in-command and never again ordered to sea. C.O.'s don't ask; they tell 'em. However, if it matters to you, I'm sorry I goofed, and you~ do enjoy my confidence."

"Mine, too!"

"And mine, Hilda my dear Captain!" (In truth I wanted Zeb and only Zeb to command when the car was off the ground. But I made myself a solemn:

vow never again to say or do anything that might cause Hilda to suspect it. We would crash and die together rather than let her suspect that I thought her other than the ideal commanding officer.)

Hilda said, "The incident is closed. Who can't wait? Speak up."

I hesitated-my bladder is not used to bedtime right after dinner. When no one else spoke, I said, "Perhaps I had better be first; I have breakfast to prepare."

"Dear, you are not First Cook today; Zebbie is. Deety, grab a rifle and take,:

your father to his 'handy bush'-and do make it handy; that giant termite might be lurking. Then hand Jacob the rifle and it's your turn. Don't dally."

It was a busy day. Water tanks had to be topped off. Zeb and I used two collapsible buckets, taking turns (that hill got steeper every trip, even at 0.38 gee), while Deety guarded us. Endless trips- That afternoon I was a ladies' tailor. Hilda had something for Deety to do.

Zeb had a job to complete. The space behind the bulkhead has padeyes every 30 cms or so. No one wants the center of gravity to shift when one is in the air. Zeb's arrangements were Samson cord in many lengths with snap hooks. Zeb told Hilda he wanted to secure the bed aft for air or space, and to store items used in rigging the forward bed so that they would be secure but available-and where were his Samson ties?-Gay didn't know. He had to explain to Hilda what they looked like-whereupon Hilda said, "Oh! Thingammies! Gay Deceiver. Inventory. Incidentals. Small. Thingammies." Zeb spent the afternoon making certain that the "bed" could not slide, then built a net of Samson cord to hold the items for turning seats into a bed, then, finding that he had Samson ties left, Zeb removed the wires with which I had secured the aftermost storage, and replaced them with ties. When he was through, he relieved me as guard, and I wound up as seamstress.