Man and wife disappeared; and, ten seconds later, the Thakern starship vanished from its world.
"Well, what do you think of that?" Belle gasped. "I was actually afraid to think, even behind a Prime screen. I don't know yet whether I want to kiss 'em or kill 'em."
"I do. That guy is really a Prime, Belle. He's older, bigger, and a lot better than I am."
"Uh-uh," she demurred, positively. "Older, yes. More mature—you baby, you!" She snickered gleefully. "If he hadn't included you in that crack I'd've stabbed him, so help me, even though it wasn't true. He said himself it's you who has got what it takes to lead and direct, not him."
"Us. We, I mean," he corrected, absently.
"Uh-huh; us-we. One, now and forever. Hot Dog! Anyway, he wants us to and we want to so everything's lovely and so let's get to work on Fatso and his Foster. I think we ought to have some fun for a change and that'll be a lot. When do we want to hit him?"
"Any day Monday through Friday. Nine-fifteen A.M. Eastern Daylight time. Plus or minus one minute."
"Nice! Catch him in flagrante delicto. Lovely—shovel on the coal, my intrepid engineer!"
On a Wednesday morning, then, at twelve minutes past nine EDT, the Pleiades hung poised, high over the Chancellery of Solar System Enterprises, Incorporated.