Steve shrugged. "Just so they wouldn't end up with five or six thousand hours on them—waiting for a lazy day on Earth to change them at leisure. Especially when the ship has been Earthing every week or so."
"But why be more than normally hard? Why attack Interstellar harder than the rest?"
"I don't; I have my orders and I'll see that they're carried out."
"You can't think for yourself?" sneered Wrightwood.
"I can and I do—and I think we're right."
"You'll change—when you learn what they're doing to you," said Wrightwood.
"What do you mean?"
Wrightwood leaned back calmly. "I'm big enough of a man," he said slowly, "to let you go ahead and join the Guardians. But the Guardians are afraid of you."
"Bah!"
"Look here," snapped Wrightwood, sitting forward abruptly. "You raised hell with me because you thought I was meddling in your life. I wasn't; the only reason they got you entered at Base One is because you're too bright to drop without an explanation, and the Guardians were afraid to let Steve Hagen go to some remote base because Hagen is none other than William Wrightwood, Junior! They want to keep a sharp, official eye on you, and hand you stale jobs until you get tired and quit. Because they haven't got a plausible excuse for tossing you out. So I—"