"Ah, His Excellency Lieutenant General the Right Honourable Herbert Evelyn James Smythe-Carstairs, KG., V.C., C.B.E., Governor General of the Imperial Realms Beyond the Sky."

"Preface it formally, please, and I will wait until oh-nine-hundred hours Greenwich time or thirty-six minutes from now. Mark!"

"I will add the heading, Captain, and deliver it by hand."

After Hilda signed off she said, "I'm going to try to sleep thirty of those thirty-six minutes. Can anyone think of a program that will let all of us nap? This contact is more tiring than I had expected. Jacob, Deety, Zeb-don't all speak at once."

"I can, my dear," I answered.

"Yes, Jacob?"

"Gay Termite."

To my mild surprise it was night at our creek bank. To my pleasure my first attempt to maneuver by voice was smoothly successful. My daughter's ingenuity in constructing voiced programs had left me little to do. While I did not resent it (I'm proud of Deety), nevertheless while sitting as copilot, I

sometimes wondered whether anyone remembered that it was my brainchild that moved this chariot. Ah, vanity!

To my greater pleasure Hilda clapped her hands and looked delighted. "Jacob! How clever of you! How stupid of me! All right, everyone off duty for a half hour 'cept the rule about always two and always a rifle. Gay, alert us in thirty minutes. And please unlock the bulkhead door."

"Aunt Hillbilly, are you going to sleep back there?"

"I had thought of stretching out and inviting Jacob to join me. But the space belongs to you and Zebbie; I was thoughtless."

"We aren't going to sleep. But we had better drag those rifles out of that sack or you won't sleep. I want to empty the oubliette and stow that pesky plastic potty under the cushion of my seat. Durned if I'll use it when I have the whole outdoors at hand."

"Most certainly-but stay inside Gay's lights-and do please remind me before we leave. Deety, I've so much on my mind that I forget housekeeping details."

"Hillbilly, you're doing swell. I'll handle housekeeping; you worry about the big picture."

Hilda cuddled up to me in the after compartment and my nerves began to relax. Would the Governor General relent? Where would we go next? We had a myriad universes to choose from, a myriad myriad planets-but only one was home and we didn't dare go there. What about juice for Zeb's car and a thousand other things? Perhaps we should risk Earth-without-a-J. What about the time bomb, ticking away in my darling's belly?

Hilda sniffed into my shoulder. I patted her head. "Relax, dearest."

"I can't. Jacob, I don't like this job. I snap at you, you argue with me, we both get upset. It's not good for us-we never behaved this way at Snug Harbor."

"Then give it up."

"I'm going to. After I finish the job I started. Jacob, when we lift from this planet, you will be captain."

"Oh, no! Zeb." (Hilda my only love, you should turn it over to him now.)

"Zebbie won't take it. It's you or Deety, Jacob. If Deety is our next captain, you will back-seat drive even more than you have with me. No, Jacob, you must be captain before Deety is, so that you will understand what she is up against."

I felt that I had been scolded enough. I started to tell Hilda when that pejorative epithet played back in my mind: "-back-seat drive-"

I trust that I am honest with myself. I know that I am not very sociable and I expect to go on being so; a man capable of creative work has no time to spare for fools who would like to visit. But a "back-seat driver"?

Some facts: Jane learned to drive before I did-her father's duo. Our first car, a roadable, coincided with her pregnancy; I got instruction so that I could drive for Jane. She resumed driving - after Deety was born but when both of us were in the car, I always drove. She drove with me as passenger once or twice before the custom became established-but she never complained that I had been back-seat driving.

But Jane never complained.

Deety laid it on the line. I don't know who taught Deety to drive but I recall that she was driving, on roads as well as in the air, when she was twelve or thirteen. She had no occasion to drive for me until Jane's illness. There was a time after we lost Jane that Deety often drove for me. After a while we alternated. Then came a day when she was driving and I pointed out that her H-above-G was, oh, some figure less than a thousand meters, with a town ahead.

She said, "Thanks, Pop"-and grounded at that town, an unplanned stop. She switched off, got out, walked around and said, "Shove over, Pop. From now on, I'll enjoy the scenery while you herd us through the sky."

I didn't shove over, so Deety got into the back seat. Deety gets her stubbornness from both parents. Jane's was covered with marshmallow that concealed chrome steel; mine is covered with a coat of sullen anger if frustrated. But Deety's stubbornness isn't concealed. She has a sweet disposition but Torquemada could not force Deety to do that which she decided against.

For four hours we ignored each other. Then I turned around (intending to start an argument, I suppose-I was in the mood for one)-and Deety was asleep, curled up in the back seat.

I wrote a note, stuck it to the wind screen, left the keys, got quietly out, made sure all doors were locked, hired another car and drove home-by air; I was too angry to risk roading.

Instead of going straight home I went to the Commons to eat, and found Deety already eating. So I took my tray and joined her. She looked up, smiled, and greeted me: "Hello, Pop! How nice we ran into each other!" She opened her purse. "Here are your keys."

I took them. "Where is our car?"

"Your car, Pop. Where you left it."

"I left it?"

"You had the keys; you were in the front seat; you hold title. You left a passenger asleep in the back seat. Good thing she's over eighteen, isn't it?" She added, "There is an Opel duo I have my eye on. Tried it once; it's in good shape."

"We don't need two cars!"

"A matter of taste. Yours. And mine."

"We can't afford two cars."

"How would you know, Pop? I handle the money."

She did not buy the Opel. But she never again drove when we both were in our car.

Three data are not a statistical universe. But it appears that the three women I have loved most all consider me to be a back-seat driver. Jane never said so... but I realize today that she agreed with Deety andHilda.

I don't consider myself to be a back-seat driver! I don't yell "Look out!" or "Watch what you're doing!" But four eyes are better than two: Should not a passenger offer, simply as data, something the driver may not have seen? Criticism? Constructive criticism only and most sparingly and only to close friends

But I try to be self-honest; my opinion is not important in this. I must

convince Hilda and Deety, by deeds, not words. Long habit is not changed by mere good resolution; I must keep the matter at the top of my mind.

There was banging at the bulkhead; I realized that I had been asleep. The door opened a crack. "Lift in five minutes."

"Okay, Deety," Hilda answered. "Nice nap, beloved?"

"Yes indeed. Did you?"

As we crawled out, Deety said, "Starboard door is open; Pop's rifle is leaning against it, locked. Captain, you asked to be reminded. Shall I take the conn?"

"Yes, thank you."

We lost no time as Deety used two preprograms: Bingo Windsor, plus Gay Bounce. Zeb had the communication watch officer almost at once. "-very well. I will see if the Captain will take the message. No over. Hold."

Zeb looked around, ostentatiously counted ten seconds, then pointed at Hilda.

"Captain Burroughs speaking. Leftenant Bean?"

"Yes, yes! Oh, my word, I've been trying to reach you the past twenty minutes."

"It is still a few seconds short of the time I gave you."