The big psionicist's expression of saturnine, almost contemptuous amusement had not changed; his voice came flat and cold. "The less you say, Doctor Bellamy, the better. Obstinate, swell-headed women give me an acute rectal pain. Pitching your curves over all the vizzies in space got you aboard, but it won't get you a thing from here on. And for your information, Doctor Bellamy, one more crack like that and I take you over my knee and blister your fanny." "Try it, you big, clumsy, muscle-bound gorilla!" she jeered. "_That_ I want to see! Any time you want to get both arms broken at the elbows, just try it!" "Now's as good a time as any. I like your spirit, babe, but I can't say a thing for your judgment." He got up and started purposefully toward her, but both non-combatants came between. "Jet back, Clee!" James protested, both hands against the heavier man's chest. "What the hell kind of show is _that_ to put on?" And, simultaneously: "Belle! Shame on you! Picking a fight already, and with nobody knows how many million people looking on! You know as well as I do that we may have to spend the rest of our lives together, so act like civilized beings--please--both of you! And don't...." "Nobody's watching this but us," Garlock interrupted. "When pussy there started using her claws I cut the gun." "That's what _you_ think," James said sharply, "but Fatso and his number one girl friend are coming in on the tight beam." "Oh?" Garlock whirled toward the hitherto dark and silent three-dimensional communications instrument. The face of a bossy-looking woman was already bright. "Garlock! How _dare_ you try to cut Chancellor Ferber off?" she demanded. Her voice was deep-pitched, blatant with authority. "Here you are, sir." The woman's face shifted to one side and a man's appeared--a face to justify in full the nickname "Fatso." "'Fatso', eh?" Chancellor Ferber snarled. Pale eyes glared from the fat face. "That costs you exactly one thousand credits, James." "How much will this cost me, Fatso?" Garlock asked. "Five thousand--and, since nobody can call me that deliberately, demotion three grades and probation for three years. Make a note, Miss Foster." "Noted, sir." "Still sure we aren't going anywhere," Garlock said. "_What_ a brain!" "Sure I'm sure!" Ferber gloated. "In a couple of hours I'm going to buy your precious starship in as junk. In the meantime, whether you like it or not, I'm going to watch your expression while you push all those pretty buttons and nothing happens." "The trouble with you, Fatso," Garlock said dispassionately, as he opened a drawer and took out a pair of cutting pliers, "is that all your strength is in your glands and none in your alleged brain. There are a lot of things--including a lot of tests--you know nothing about. How much will you see after I've cut one wire?" "You wouldn't dare!" the fat man shouted. "I'd fire you--blacklist you all over the sys...."