idest, 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."

"You chirped it, boss. Primes seem to be such _nice_ people." James
rolled his eyes upward and steepled his hands. "If you've got all the
dope, no use finishing this search pattern."

"Go ahead. Window dressing. The Brass hasn't any idea of what's going
on, any more than ours did."

The search went on until, "This is it," James reported. "Where? Over
Margon Base?"

"Check. Kick us over there, ten or twelve hundred miles up."

"On the way, boss. Looks like your theory is about ready to pick."

"It isn't much of a theory yet; just that cultural and evolutionary
patterns should be more or less homogeneous within galaxies. Until it
can explain why so many out-galaxies are just alike it doesn't amount to
much. By the way, I'm glad you people insisted on organization and rank
and uniforms. The Brass is going to take a certain amount of convincing.
Take over, Brownie--this is your dish."

"I was afraid of that."

The others watched Lola drive her probe--a diamond-clear, razor-sharp
bolt of thought that no Gunther First could possibly eit