"Aunt Lilybet said, Taddie can drive.'"

"Oh. I think she meant the turret gunner. Her nephew."

So that's why I climbed up to check the turret. I had to go outside to get up there, which I did-cautiously. But we had been correct-all dead. And so was our turret gunner, Taddie. I climbed down, then back up into the passenger compartment, got my three together-told them we had no relief driver.

I asked, "Bill, can you drive?"

"No, I can't, Senator. This is the first time in my life I've ever been in one of these things."

"I was afraid of that. Well, it's been some years since I've driven one but I know how, so- Oh, Jesus! Gwen, / can't."

•Trouble, dear?"

I sighed. "You steer this thing with your feet. I'm shy one foot-it's sitting over there by my seat. There is no way in the world I can put it on... and no way in the world I can drive with just one foot."

She answered soothingly, "That's all right, dear. You handle the radio-we'll need some Maydays, I think. While I drive."

"You can drive this behemoth?"

"Certainly. I didn't want to volunteer, with you two men here. But I'll be happy to drive. Two more hours, about. Easy."

Three minutes later Gwen was checking the controls; I was seated beside her, figuring out how to jack my suit into the bus's radio. Two of those minutes had been spent delegating Bill as master at arms with orders to keep Lady Dee in her seat. She had come forward again, with firm instructions about how things were to be done. Seems she was in a hurry- something about a directors' meeting in Ell-Four. So we must drive fast, make up for lost time.

This time I did get to hear Gwen's comment. It was heartwarming. Lady Dee gasped, especially when Gwen told her what to do with her proxies, after she folded them until they were all sharp comers.

Gwen let in the clutches, the Hear Me shook, then backed, swung past the other rolligon, and we were away. I finally punched the right buttons on the radio, tuned it to what I thought was the right channel:

"-o, M, F, I, E, S speUs 'Comfies!' the perfect answer to the stresses of modern living! Don't take the cares of business home with you. Take comfort from Comfies, the scientific stomach boon therapists prescribe more than any other-"

I tried another channel.

"The truth is the one thing that nobody will believe."

GEORGE BERNARD SHAW 1856-1950

I went on hunting for eleven, the emergencies channel, by trial and error; the read-out was marked but not by numbered channels-Auntie had her own codes. The window reading "Help" was not help for emergencies as I had assumed, but spiritual help. I punched it in and got "This is the Reverend Herold Angel speaking from my heart direct to yours, at Tycho-Under Tabernacle, Christ's Home in Luna. Tune in at eight o'clock Sunday to hear the true meanings of the Scriptural prophecies... and send your love gift today to Box 99, Angel Station, Tycho Under. Our Good News Theme for today: How We Will Know the Master When He Comes. Now we join the Tabernacle Choir in 'Jesus Holds Me in His-'"

That sort of help was about forty minutes too late, so I moved on to another channel. There I recognized a voice and concluded that I must be on channel thirteen. So I called,

"Captain Midnight calling Captain Marcy. Come in. Captain Marcy."

"Marcy, ground control Hong Kong Luna. Midnight, what the devil are you up to now? Over."

I tried to explain, in twenty-five words or less, how I happened to be on his maneuvering circuit. He listened, then interrupted: "Midnight, what have you been smoking? Let me talk to your wife; I can believe her."

"She can't talk to you now; she's driving this bus."

"Hold it. You tell me you are a passenger in the rolligon Hear Me, Jesus. That's Lilybet Washington's bus; why is your wife driving it?"

"I tried to tell you. She's been shot. Auntie Lilybet, I mean, not my wife. We were jumped by bandits."

"There are no bandits in that area."

"That's right; we killed 'em. Captain, listen, and quit jumping to conclusions. We were attacked. We have three dead and two wounded... and my wife is driving because she's the only able-bodied person left who can."

"You're wounded?"

"No."

"But you said your wife is the only able-bodied person left who can drive."

"Yes."

"Let me get this straight. Day before yesterday you were piloting a spacecraft- Or was your wife the pilot?"

"I was the pilot. What's itching you. Captain?"

"You can pilot a spacecraft... but you can't drive a little old roily. That's hard to swallow."

"Simple. I can't use my right foot."

"But you said you weren't wounded."

"I'm not. I've just lost a foot, that's all. Well, not 'lost'- I have it here in my lap. But I can't use it."

"Why can't you use it?"

I took a deep breath and attempted to recall Siacci empiricals for ballistics on atmosphere planets. "Captain Marcy, is there anyone in your organization-or anywhere in Hong Kong Luna-who might be interested in the fact that bandits attacked a public bus serving your city, only a few klicks outside your city pressure? And is there anyone who can receive the dead and wounded when we arrive with them? And who won't care who drives this bus? And doesn't find it incredible dial a man could have had a foot amputated years back?"

"Why didn't you say so?"

"God damn it. Captain, it was none of your bloody business!"

There was silence for several seconds. Then Captain Marcy said quietly, "Perhaps you're right. Midnight, I'm going to patch you through to Major Bozell. He's a wholesaler by trade but he also commands our Vigilante Volunteers and that's why you should talk to him. Just hang on."

I waited and watched Owen's driving. When we started, her handling had been a bit rough, just as anyone's will be in getting acquainted with a strange machine. Now her driving was smooth, if not as dashing as Auntie's driving.

"Bozell here. Do you read?"

I replied... and almost at once ran into a nightmare feeling of deja vu, as he interrupted with: "There are no bandits in that area."

I sighed. "If you say so. Major. But there are nine corpses and an abandoned rolligon in that area. Perhaps someone would be interested in searching those bodies, salvaging their p-suits and weapons, and in claiming that abandoned rolligon... before some peaceful settlers who would never think of turning bandit show up and take everything."

"Hmmm. Choy-Mu tells me that he is getting a satellite photo of the spot where this alleged attack took place. If there really is an abandoned rolligon-"

"Major!"

"Yes?"

"I don't care what you believe. I don't give a hoot about salvage. We'll be at the north airlock about three-thirty. Can you have a medic meet us, with a stretcher and bearers? That's for Mistress Lilybet Washington. She's-"

"I know who she is; she's been driving that route since I was a kid. Let me talk to her."

"She's wounded, I told you. She's lying down and I hope she's asleep. If she's not, I still won't disturb her; it might start more bleeding. Just have somebody at the airlock to take care of her. And for three dead ones, too, one of them a small child. Its mother is with us and in shock, name of Ekaterina O'Toole, and her husband lives in your city. Nigel O'Toole and maybe you can have somebody call him so that he can meet his family and take care of them. That's all. Major. When I called you, I was a bit nervous about bandits. But since there aren't any bandits in this area, we have no reason to ask for vigilante protection out here on the Sea of Serenity this fine sunny day, and I'm sorry I disturbed your sleep."

"That's all right; we're here to help-no need to be sarcastic. This is being recorded. State your full name and legal address, then repeat: As representative of Lilybet Washington of Lucky Dragon Pressure, doing business as the Apocalypse and Kingdom Come Bus Company, I authorize Major Kirk Bozell, commanding officer and business manager of the Hong Kong Luna Vigilante Volunteers, to supply-"