"Okay. How long will it take you, Belle, to materialize those uniforms?" "Fifteen seconds longer than it takes the converter to scan us. Lola's color scheme is right, and I've got everything else down to the last curlicue of chrome. Let's go." * * * They went: and came back into the Main in uniform. Belle had really done a job. That of the men, while something on the spectacular side, was more or less conventional, with stiff-visored, screened, heavily-chromed caps; but the women's! Slippers, overseas caps, shorts and jackets--but what jackets! "Well...." Garlock said, after examining the two girls speechlessly for a good half minute. "It doesn't look _exactly_ like a spray-on job; but if you ever take a deep breath it'll split from here to there. Fly off--leave you naked as a jay-bird." "Oh, no. The fabric stretches a little. See? Nothing like a sweater, but a similar effect--perhaps a bit more so." "Quite a bit more so, I'd say. However, since Operators and Primes are automatically stacked like Tennick Towers, I don't suppose your recruits will be unduly perturbed at, or will squawk too much about, overexposure. Are we finally ready to go down and get to work?" "I am," James said. "How do you want to handle it?" "Run a search pattern. Belle and I will center their Op field and check on Ops and Primes. You two probe at will." Around and around the planet, in brief bursts of completely incomprehensible speed, the huge ship darted; the biggest, solidest, yet most elusive and fantastic "flying saucer" ever to visit that world. The tremendous oceans and six great continents were traversed; the ice-caps; the frigid, the temperate, and the torrid zones. Wherever she went, powerful and efficient radar scanned and tracked her; wherever she went, excitement seethed. "Beta Centauri Five," Garlock reported, after a few minutes. "Margonia, they call it. Biggest continent and nation named Nargoda. Capital city Margon; Margon Base on coast nearby. Lots of Gunther Firsts. All the real Gunther, though, is clear across the continent. They're building a starship. Fourteen Ops and two Primes--man and woman. Deggi Delcamp's a big bruiser, with a God-awful lot of stuff. Ugly as hell, though. He's a bossy type." "I'm amazed," James played it straight. "I thought all male Primes would be just like you. Timorous Timmies." "Huh? Oh...." Garlock was taken slightly aback, but went on quickly, "What do you think of your opposite number, Belle?" He whistled a wolf-call and made hour-glass motions with his hands. "I'd thought of trading you in on a new model, but Fao Talaho is no bargain, either--and _nobody's_ push-over." "_Trade_! You _tomcat_!" Belle's nostrils flared. "You know what that bleached-blonde tried to do? High-hat _me!_" "I noticed. When we four get down to business, face to face, there should be some interesting by-products."