dexterously. "Heads it is, Lola, so I get
Jim--James James James the Ninth himself. You have the honor of pairing
with Clee--or should I say His Learnedness Right the Honorable Director
Doctor Cleander Simmsworth Garlock, Doctor of Philosophy, Doctor of
Science, Prime Operator, President and First Fellow of the Galaxian
Society, First Fellow of the Gunther Society, Fellow of the Institute of
Paraphysics, of the Institute of Nuclear Physics, of the College of
Mathematics, of the Congress of Psionicists, and of all the other
top-bracket brain-gangs you ever heard of? Also, for your information,
his men have given him a couple of informal degrees--P.D.Q. and S.O.B."

* * *

The big psionicist's expression of saturnine, almost contemptuous
amusement had not changed; his voice came flat and cold. "The less you
say, Doctor Bellamy, the better. Obstinate, swell-headed women give me
an acute rectal pain. Pitching your curves over all the vizzies in space
got you aboard, but it won't get you a thing from here on. And for your
information, Doctor Bellamy, one more crack like that and I take you
over my knee and blister your fanny."

"Try it, you big, clumsy, muscle-bound gorilla!" she jeered. "_That_ I
want to see! Any time you want to get both arms broken at the elbows,
just try it!"

"Now's as good a time as any. I like your spirit, babe, but I can't say
a thing for your judgment." He got up and started purposefully toward
her, but both non-combatants came between.

"Jet back, Clee!" James protested, both hands against the heavier man's
chest. "What the hell kind of show is _that_ to put on?" And,
simultaneously:

"Belle! Shame on you! Picking a fight already, and with nobody knows how
many million people looking on! You know as well as I do that we may
have to spend the rest of our lives together, so act like civilized
beings--please--both of you! And don't...."

"Nobody's watching this but us," Garlock interrupted. "When pussy there
started using her claws I cut the gun."

"That's what _you_ think," James said sharply, "but Fatso and his number
one girl friend are coming in on the tight beam."

"Oh?" Garlock whirled toward the hitherto dark and silent
three-dimensional communications instrument. The face of a bossy-looking
woman was already bright.

"Garlock! How _dare_ you try to cut Chancellor Ferber off?" she
demanded. Her voice was deep-pitched, blatant with authority. "Here you
a