Gwen assured her that we did know and that she agreed with Ingrid: Outbreeding was a sound and necessary policy. I made no comment but agreed; a hundred and fifty people are not enough for a healthy gene pool.
"That's how Mama got Papa; she went looking for him. Papa was born in Arizona; that's a part of Sweden back groundhog side. He came to Luna with a subcontractor for the Picardy Transmutation Plant and Mama got him at a masked mixer and gave him our family name when she was sure-about Wolf, I mean-and took him back to Dry Bones and set him up in business."
She dimpled. We were chatting via our suit talkies but I could see her dimples right through her helmet by a happy chance of light. "And I'm going to do the same for my man, using my family share. But Mama says that I should not grab the first boy who's willing-as if I would!-and not to hurry or worry even if I'm still an old maid at eighteen. And I won't. He's got to be as good a man as Papa is."
I thought privately that it might be a long search. Jinx Henderson ne John Black Eagle is quite a man.
When at last we could see the Lucky Dragon parking lot, it was nearly sundown-in Istanbul, that is, as anyone could see by looking. Earth was almost due south of us and quite high, about sixty degrees; its terminator ran through the north desert of Africa and on up through the Greek Isles and Turkey. The Sun was still low in the sky, nine or ten degrees and rising. There would be nearly fourteen days more sunlight at Lucky Dragon before the next long dark. I asked Gretchen whether or not she intended to drive straight back.
"Oh, no," she assured me. "Mama wouldn't like that. I'll stay overnight-bedroll there in the back-and start back fresh tomorrow. After you folks catch your bus."
I said, "That isn't necessary, Gretchen. Once we're inside this pressure and can turn our suits back to you, there's no reason for you to wait."
"Mr. Richard, are you yearning to have me spanked?"
"You? 'Spanked'? Why, your father wouldn't do that. To you?-a grown woman, almost."
"You might tell Mama that. No, Papa wouldn't; he hasn't for years and years. But Mama says I'm eligible until the day I first marry. Mama's a holy terror; she's a direct descendant of Hazel Stone. She said, 'Gret, you see about suits for them. Take them to Charlie so they won't be cheated. If he can't supply them, then see to it that they wear ours to Kong and you dicker with Lilybet to fetch ours back later. And you had better see them off on the bus, too.'"
Gwen said, "But, Gretchen, your father warned us that the bus doesn't move until the driver has a load. Which could be a day or two. Even several days."
Gretchen giggled. "Wouldn't that be terrible? I'd get a vacation. Nothing to do but catch up on the back episodes of Sylvia's Other Husband. Let's everybody feel sony for Gretchen! Mistress Gwen, you can call Mama this minute if you wish ... but I do have firm instructions."
Gwen shut up, apparently convinced. We rolled to a stop about fifty meters from Lucky Dragon airlock, set in the side of a hill. Lucky Dragon is in the south foothills of the Caucasus range at thirty-two degrees twenty-seven minutes north. I waited, on one foot and leaning on my cane, while Bill and Gwen gave unnecessary help to a highly efficient young lady in spreading an awning slanted to keep the rolligon from direct sunlight for the next twenty-four hours or so.
Then Gretchen called her mother on the roily's radio, reported our arrival, and promised to call again in the morning. We went through the airlock, Gwen carrying her case and purse and babying me. Bill carrying Tree-San and the package containing Naomi's wig, and Gretchen carrying a huge bedroll. Once inside, we helped each other shuck down; then I put my foot back on while Gretchen hung up my suit and hers, and Bill and Gwen hung theirs, on long racks opposite the airlock.
Gwen and Bill picked up their burdens and headed for a public 'fresher around to the right of the airlock. Gretchen had turned to follow them when I stopped her. "Gretchen, hadn't I better wait here till you three get back?" "What for, Mr. Senator?" 'That suit of your papa's is valuable, and so is the one Mistress Gwen is wearing. Maybe everyone here is honest... but the suits aren't mine."
"Oh. Maybe everybody here is honest but don't count on it. So Papa says. I wouldn't leave that darling little tree sitting around but don't ever worry about a p-suit; nobody ever touches another Loonie's p-suit. Automatic elimination at the nearest airlock. No excuses."
"Just like that, eh?"
"Yes, sir. Only it doesn't happen as everybody knows better. But I know about one case, before I was born. A new chum, maybe he didn't know any better. But he never did it again because a posse went after him and brought the p-suit back. But not him. They just left him to dry, there on the rocks. I've seen it, what's left of him. Horrid." She wrinkled her nose, then dimpled. "Now, may I be excused, sir? I'm about to wet
my panties."
"Sorry!" (I'm stupid. The plumbing in a man's p-suit is adequate, although just barely. But what the great brains have come up with for women is not adequate. I have a strong impression that most women will endure considerable discomfort rather than use it. I once heard one refer to it disparagingly as "the sand box.")
At the door of the 'fresher my bride was waiting for me. She held out to me a half-crown coin. "Wasn't sure you had one, dear."
"Huh?"
"For the 'fresher. Air I have taken care of; Gretchen paid our one-day fees, so I paid her. We're back in civilization, dear-No Free Lunch."
No free anything. I thanked her.
I invited Gretchen to have dinner with us. She answered, "Thank you, sir; I accept-Mama said I could. But would you settle for ice-cream cones for now?-and Mama gave me the money to offer them to you. Because there are several things we should do before dinner."
"Certainly. We're in your hands, Gretchen; you're the sophisticate; we're the tyros."
"What's a 'tyro'T'
"A new chum."
"Oh. First we should go to Quiet Dreams tunnel and spread our bedrolls to hold our places so that we can all sleep together"-at which point I learned for the first time why Gretch-en's bedroll was so enormous: her mother's foresight, again- "but before that we had better put your names down with Lilybet for the bus... and before that, let's get those ice-cream cones if you're as hungry as I am. Then, last thing before dinner, we should go see Charlie about p-suits."
The ice-cream cones were close at hand in the same tunnel as the racks: Borodin's Double-Dip Dandies, served by Kelly Borodin himself, who offered to sell me (in addition to lavish cones) used magazines from Earth, barely used magazines from Luna City and Tycho Under, candy, lottery tickets, horoscopes, Lunaya Pravda, the Luna City Lunatic, greeting cards (genuine Hallmark imitations), pills guaranteed to restore virility, and a sure cure for hangovers, compounded to an ancient Gypsy formula. Then he offered to roll me double or nothing for the cones. Gretchen caught my eye, and barely shook her head.
As we walked away, she said, "Kelly has two sets of dice, one for strangers, another for people he knows. But he doesn't know that I know it. Sir, you paid for the cones... and now, if you don't let me pay you back, I'll get that spanking. Because Mama will ask me and I will have to tell her."
I thought about it. "Gretchen, I have trouble believing that your mother would spank you for something / did."
"Oh, but she would, sir! She will say that I should have had my money out and ready. And I should have."
"Does she spank really hard? Bare bottom?"