"Yes," Zeus said. "By all means. Next."
Mars got up. He was now scratching the hair on his chest. He looked around at the others with a definitely unfriendly expression.
"The physical department is mine," he said. "The candidate can handle himself, all right. There isn't much doubt of it." He burped, wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, and went on: "Of course, he's let himself run to fat a little here and there, but it isn't really serious. Mainly a matter of glandular balance or something like that, as far as I understand Hermes' report."
Forrester began to feel like a prize chicken.
"And physical training," Mars said. "Well, there hasn't been any training, that's all. And that's bad."
"He is not being considered for your position," Vulcan said. "One muscular brainless imbecile is enough."
Mars took a deep breath.
"Please," Hera said. "Continue the report."
The breath came out in an explosion. "All right," Mars said. "Discounting the training end of things, and assuming that Hermes can fix up the glandular mess, I think he can pass the physical."
Forrester wasn't sure that he liked being referred to as a glandular mess. On the other hand, he asked himself, what could he do about it? He stood quietly, wondering what was coming next.