Then Garlock and Belle together went on to explain and to describe--not even hinting, of course, that they had ever been outside the galaxy or had even thought of trying to do so--their concept of what the Galaxian Societies of the Galaxy would and should do; or what the Galaxian Service could, should, and _would_ become--the Service to which they both intended to devote their lives. It wasn't even in existence yet, of course. Fao and Deggi were the only other Primes they had ever talked to in their lives. That was why they were so eager to help the Margonians get their ship built. The more starships there were at work, the faster the Service would grow into a really tremendous.... "_Fao's getting ready to blow her top_," Delcamp flashed Garlock a tight-beamed thought. "_If I were doing it I'd have to start right now._" * * * "_I'll let her work up a full head of steam, then smack her bow-legged._" "_Cheers, brother! I hope you can handle her!_" ... organization. Then, when enough ships were working and enough Galaxian Societies were rolling, there would be the Regional organizations and the Galactic Council.... "So, on a one-planet basis and right out of your own little fat head," Fao sneered, "you have set yourself up as Grand High Chief Mogul, and all the rest of us are to crawl up to you on our bellies and kiss your feet?" "If that's the way you want to express it, yes. However, I don't know how long I personally will be in the pilot's bucket. As I told you, I will enforce the basic tenet that top Gunther is top boss--man, woman, snake, fish, or monster." "Top Gunther be damned!" Fao blazed. "I don't and won't take orders from _any_ man--in hell or in heaven or on this Earth or on any planet of any...." "Fao!" Delcamp exclaimed, "Please keep still--_please_!" "Let her rave," Garlock said, coldly. "This is just a three-year-old baby's tantrum. If she keeps it up, I'll give her the damnedest jolt she ever got in all her spoiled life." Belle whistled sharply to call Fao's attention, then tight-beamed a thought. "If you've got any part of a brain, slick chick, you'd better start using it. The boy friend not only plays rough, but he doesn't bluff." "To hell with all that!" Fao rushed on. "We don't have anything to do with your organization--go on back home or anywhere else you want to. We'll finish our own ship and build our own organization and run it to suit ourselves. We'll...." "That's enough of that." Garlock penetrated her shield as easily as he had the man's, and held her in lock. "You are _not_ going to wreck this project. You will start behaving yourself right now or I'll spread your mind wide open for Belle and Deggi to look at and see exactly what kind of a half-baked jerk you are. If that doesn't work, I'll put you into a Gunther-blocked cell aboard the _Pleiades_ and keep you there until the ship is finished and we leave Margonia. How do you want it?"