"Yes, I think perhaps there is! If not excuse, then reason, at least! If my memory serves me correctly, it has been a scant eleven Periods since the Sol Gravity-Justifier was last serviced, a piece of work, gentlemen, that has in the past been valid for fifty at minimum! Was I, perhaps, to be kept from knowing that what work was performed eleven Periods ago was a failure?" A tight pause. And then, "Certainly not, Sire," in a soft tone from D-Yun. "But these people have been such--well, nuisances. We have given them so much more than their share of service that sabotage of some sort naturally suggested itself. We had been in the process of analytical survey--" "I'll have none of that, not from any of you! Sabotage indeed. Why, it is a matter of record that Sol is not the only system in which breakdown has occurred far ahead of schedule tolerance! Yes, I know that, too, gentlemen! There is another thing I know as well. I know that there is no sabotage. I know that my personal staff of copytechs has been overworked for a full period in an effort to keep the peoples of over twenty different star systems unaware of the major technical difficulties which have been increasingly frequent in each of the others! I know that propaganda, instead of technical skill, has been keeping the prestige of the Alliance intact! The fault cannot be laid to Captech D-Yun's saboteurs! It must be laid squarely at our own door step, gentlemen! For some reason which I would like to know, we have simply not been able to keep up. We are not the technicians our fathers were, and careful study will show that they were not technicians to match their fathers, nor they their fathers before them! Slowly but too surely, we are losing something! Why?" * * * * * Deanne breathed shallowly, straining to hear every word. "Perhaps, Sire, the efficiency of our Cad tech recruiting system could be improved. Although I admit, the planets have not been producing youths of the caliber of--" "Bah! If anything, they're getting quicker-witted all the time! And we have had little trouble, from among twenty-one star systems in two galaxies, in obtaining the necessary periodic quota! Yet our new ships are not as good! Our number increases, but that is all! And mere number, by itself, is worthless!" Another voice replied, but she could not identify it. "That might be traced, Sire, to the poorer quality of raw materials which the planets are obliged by law to furnish us at the scheduled intervals in return for our service--" "That is starwash, and you know it! If anything, quality has improved, since the discovery of new mining planets. I can still read records, young man! Perhaps you are not fully acquainted with the Director whom you're attempting to deceive!"