"—and I therefore submit, sir, that unless final decision has been made by the Director, we further discuss the expedited drafting of the new OP for this year, based on the details enumerated in our checklists."
The third one rose, the one referred to as Tayne.
There was something in the look of the man that brought Doug at once on guard. Wide face and shoulders, sharp, small features that gave his face a curious look of flatness, small eyes. The eyes bored in as though they could see through Doug's body and into his brain, examine it, and find it an imposter.
"I think the Senior Quadrate will agree," he said, "that each time the games are conducted, it must be according to a plan which is as closely fool-proof as is possible to make it. I think he will agree that personal feelings have no place in the formulation of such plans—or their lack of formulation."
All eyes were suddenly on Doug, and he knew that here was a challenge—that here was something the others had wished to say, but had considered the risk too great.
"Continue," he said.
"I ask, in the interests of the Council, what the Senior Quadrate's real reason is for having delayed the revised OP for so protracted a length of time. I am not in position to demand an answer, but I point out that I ask the question as an alternative to filing a formal charge of outright profligacy in office!"
The sharp intakes of breath about the table were his cue. Even the girl hesitated the space of a second in her transcription. Suddenly, the thing was obvious. And Doug knew he could cope with it—he had, so many times before!
This lad, he thought, wants to be the next Senior Quadrate!