"All that may not be necessary," Lola said. "That tape will never be heard. I'll bet she's erased it already." "Perhaps; but ours isn't going to be erased--it will be heard exactly where it will do the most good." "I'm awfully glad you don't think we're on the hook. All that's left, then, is that second-in-command business. Both of you know, of course, that that was just window-dressing." "You were telling the truth and didn't know it," James said, cheerfully. "You have actually been second-in-command ever since the drive tests." "I haven't, and I won't. Surely you don't think I'm enough of a heel, Jim, to step on your toes like that?" "Nothing like that involved. You tell her, Clee." "Gunther ability is what counts. You're a Prime, Jim's an Operator; so, now that we can handle the heap, you'll have to be second-in-command whether you like it or not. Any time you can out-Gunther me we'll trade places. And you won't have to take the job away from me--I'll give it to you." "But ... no hard feelings, Jim? No reservations? Screens down?" "None whatever. In fact, I'm relieved. I'm Gunthered for this board here--for that one I'm not. Come in and look; and shake on it." * * * Belle looked; and while they were shaking hands, she flashed a thought at Lola. "Do you know that we've got two of the finest men that ever lived?" "I've known that for a long time," Lola flashed back, "but you've hardly started to realize what they _really_ are." "Well, shall we start earning our pay and perquisites by getting to work on this planet, that we haven't even looked--wait a minute! We're just about to open up the galaxy, aren't we?" They were. "Then there'll have to be some kind of a unifying and correlating authority--a Galactic Council or something--and the quicker it's set up the better; the less confusion and turmoil and jockeying-for-position there will be. Question: should this authority be political?" "It should _not_!" James declared. "It takes United Worlds seven solid days of debate to decide whether or not to buy one lead pencil." "Military--or naval, I suppose it'd be--that's what Clee's driving at," Belle said. "You're wonderful, Clee--simply priceless! We're officers of the brand-new Galactic Navy. Subject to civilian control, of course, but the civilians will be the United Galaxian Societies of the Galaxy, and nobody else. _Beautiful_, Clee! There are ten Operators, Jim. Right?" * * * "Check. Brownie and I are here; the other eight are running the Galaxian Society under Clee. And the whole Society eats out of his hand." "I don't know about that, but Belle and I together could swing it, I think." "I'll say we could," Belle breathed. "And I simply can't wait to see you kick Fatso's teeth in with _this_ one!"