"Why, surely. I'm always nice to anybody who is nice to me."
"Says you," Garlock replied, skeptically, and all four went to work as though nothing had happened.
They went through the shops and the almost-finished ship. They studied blueprints. They met all the Operators and discussed generators and fields of force and mathematics and paraphysics and Guntherics. They argued so hotly about mental control that Garlock had James bring the Pleiades over to new-christened Galaxian Field so that he could prove his point then and there.
Entlore and Holson came along this time, as well as the ComOff; and all three were nonplussed and surprised to see each member of the "crackpot" group hurl the huge starship from one solar system to any other one desired, apparently merely by thinking about it. And the "crackpots" were extremely surprised to find themselves hopelessly lost in uncharted galactic wildernesses every time they did not think, definitely and positively, of one specific destination. Then Garlock took a chance. He had to take it sometime; he might just as well do it now.
"See if you can hit Andromeda, Deggi," he suggested.
While Belle, James, and Lola held their breaths, Delcamp tried. The starship went toward the huge nebula, but stopped at the last suitable planet on the galaxy's rim.
"Can you hit Andromeda?" Delcamp asked, more than half jealously, and Belle tensed her muscles.
"Never tried it," Garlock said, easily. "I suppose, though, since you couldn't kick the old girl out of our good old home galaxy, she'll just sit right here for me, too."
He went through the motions and the Pleiades did sit right there—which was exactly what he had told her to do. And everybody—even the "crackpots"—breathed more easily.