y 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!"

"I don't like the word 'Navy'," Garlock said. "It's tied definitely to
warfare. How about calling it the 'Galactic Service'? Applicable to
either war or peace. Brass Hats will think of us in terms of war, even
though we will actually work for peace. Any objections?"

There were no objections.

"About the uniforms," Lola said, eagerly. "Space-black and star-white,
with chromium comets and things on the shoulders...."

"To hell with uniforms," Garlock broke in. "Why do women have to go off
the deep end on clothes?"

"She's right--you're wrong, Clee," James said. "Without a uniform you
won't get off the ground, not even with the Society. And you'll be
talking to Top Planetary Brass. Also, they're Gunthered plenty--you can
feel their Op field clear out here."

"Could be," Garlock conceded. "Okay, you girls dope it out to suit
yourselves. But think you can stand it, Belle, to wear more than twelve
square inches of clothes?"

"Wait 'til you see it, chum. I've been designing a uniform for myself
for positively _years_."

"I can't wait. And you're a captain, of course."

"Huh? You can't have two cap.... Oh, I see. Primes. I appreciate that,
Clee. Thanks."

"Hold on, both of you," James said. "You haven't thought this through
far enough. Suppose we meet forces already organized? Better start high
than low. You've got to be top admiral, Clee."

"Rocket-oil! Suppose we don't find anything at all?"

"You're right, Jim," Belle said. "Clee, you talk like a man with a paper
nose. It's _you_ who's been yowling for two solid years about being
ready for _anything_. We've got to do just that."

"Correction accepted. Brief me."

"Ranks should be different from those of United Worlds. They should be
descriptive, but impressive. Tops could be Galactic Admiral. That's you.
Vice Galactic Admiral; me...."

"Galactic Vice Admiral would be better," Lola said.

"Accepted. Those two we'll make stick come hell or space-warps. Right?"

Garlock did not reply immediately. "Up to either one of two points