But here in space, with no solid planet below him to rest upon, to succor him and give him strength, Steve felt the abject panic of helplessness. The mighty power leashed in the room behind him was invisible; the surging drivers that hurled him along at a thousand times the speed of light operated without a murmur, a tick, or a sign of their positive power. The warp generator that folded space around him to create his own subspace, a feat of gravitic energy that not even Sol himself could perform, gave him no comfort.
So Steve fought panic and was glad to see the first sight of Base One. He landed in his allotted space, climbed down out of his swamper shakily, and walked off the spaceport slowly, hoping that Lois Morehouse would be there. She was—standing at the edge of the landing area; she waved to him and Steve changed his course to go towards her.
Lois was a good-looking girl of about twenty-three, a bit too healthy-looking to suit the present standard of fragile beauty. She glowed with health, could send a sizzling backhand, sink an iron shot, or ride water-skis with the best of them. She was the daughter of Commissioner Morehouse, the nominal top-brass of the Guardians, and as such was the eye of every single man in the squadron. Just why, in three or four days, Lois had found a raw rookie interesting had never occurred to Steve to question.
For while Hagen had formally and legally renounced his stepfather and his stepfather's business and way of life, Steve could not renounce the upbringing his stepfather had given him. Steve had none of the truly, apologetically, deferential bearing of the average rookie, who usually came of families of average means and worked his way up. Hagen had attended the finest schools, had gone to the best college, had played football and been sought-after by three leading fraternities. None of this had made him a snob; it was just that he saw nothing odd or upsetting about the fact that an attractive girl found him interesting. Had he been brought up according to his present financial, emotional, and social status, Steve would have been inclined to retire and leave the pursuit of Lois Morehouse to men who had experience and position.
He did not realize it himself, but Steve Hagen was trained to be the kind of man who felt no shyness at walking into the office of the Big Brass and sitting down to tell him what he thought. So he saw nothing odd about walking over to Lois Morehouse and smiling affably.
"How was it?" she asked him.
"Rough," he said. "Shucks, Lois, I wouldn't know whether it was rough or whether it was a milk run; this is the first I'd ever seen."
"How was the trip back?"
Steve laughed nervously. "I was never so glad to see solid planet before in my life."