"Still a game, Grant?" laughed Garrard. "A game where every throw of the dice is forecast is no game."
"What am I?" chuckled Jack Grant. "Just the baaaaad boy of the decontamination squadron? Sure it's a game—the whole thing is a game. And whether you're playing your brother for marbles or playing the devil for fame, you play to win."
"I say—" started Garrard.
Grant out-talked him. "I say that I am the master of my fate. And if anybody calls me Invictus Grant I shall cut his throat. Or her throat," he added, turning to Jenna with a grin.
The door opened again and Lacy entered. "Quite a conference," he said. "Well, Ralph, where is it and what's to be done?"
Lindsay brought him up to date. Then they ran off the recording of Jim Roberts' unhappy attempt.
"You may just be overcautious," said Lacy when the recording had finished. "It may have been a circumstance."
"Unlikely. The thing is ... has too many facets. Jenna herself claims that a new item was expectable. Haynes had his statisticians at work, and their findings were that the quantity of late has been diminishing, which from past experience means that something new is due."
Jack Grant looked at Lindsay. "You don't suppose they're after the decontamination squadron?"