"I didn't ... and it could have been. So go ahead, Virge, with...."
The thought was never finished, for Samms had already gone ahead. Simultaneously, it seemed, the minds of eight other Lensmen joined the group of Tellurians. Samms, intensely serious, spoke aloud to his friend:
"The Galactic Council is now assembled. Do you, Roderick K. Kinnison, promise to uphold, in as much as you conscientiously can and with all that in you lies, the authority of this Council throughout all space?"
"I promise."
"By virtue of the authority vested in me its president by the Galactic Council, I appoint you Port Admiral of the Galactic Patrol. My fellow councillors are now inducting the armed forces of their various solar systems into the Galactic Patrol ... It will not take long ... There, you may make your appointments and issue orders for the mobilization."
The two super-dreadnaughts were now approaching the Hill. The Boise stayed "up on top"; the Chicago went down. Kinnison, however, paid very little attention to the landing or to Samms' disembarkation, and none whatever to the Chicago's reascent into the high heavens. He knew that everything was under control; and, now alone in his cabin, he was busy.
"All personnel of all armed forces just inducted into the Galactic Patrol, attention!" He spoke into an ultra-wave microphone, the familiar parade-ground rasp very evident in his deep and resonant voice. "Kinnison of Tellus, Port Admiral, speaking. Each of you has taken oath to the Galactic Patrol?"
They had.
"At ease. The organization chart already in your hands is made effective as of now. Enter in your logs the date and time. Promotions: Commodore Clayton of North America, Tellus...."
In his office at New York Spaceport Clayton came to attention and saluted crisply; his eyes shining, his deeply-scarred face alight.