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. Meantime, you had better
get on channel eleven-that's emergency-and start singing Mayday. And I've got
traffic, so-"
Gwen was on her hands and knees, by me. "Captain Marcy!"
"Huh? Yes?"
"I really am his bride and he really did marry me just today and if he
weren't a hot pilot, I wouldn't be alive this minute. Everything did go wrong,
just as my husband said. It's been like piloting a barrel over Niagara Falls."
"I've never seen Niagara Falls but I read you. My best wishes, Mrs.
Midnight. May you have a long and happy life together, and lots of children."
"Thank you, sir! If someone finds us before our air runs out, we will."
Gwen and I took turns calling "Mayday, Mayday!" on channel eleven. When I
was off duty, I checked into the resources and equipment of good old Volvo B. J.
17, the clunker. By the Protocol of Brasilia that skycar should have been
equipped with reserve water, air, and food, a class two first-aid kit, minimum
sanitary facilities, emergency pressure suits (UN-SN spec 10007A) for maximum
capacity (four, including pilot).
Bill spent his time cleaning viewports and elsewhere, using Kleenex
salvaged from the glove compartment-Naomi's wig had come through okay. But he
almost burst his bladder before he got up his nerve to ask me what to do. Then I
had to teach him how to use a balloon... as the skycar's "minimum sanitary
facilities" turned out to be a small package of rude expedients and a pamphlet
telling how to use them if you just had to
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