Hardwick rather regretfully recognized that he didn't know how to be impressive. He was not a good salesman of his own importance. He didn't even get the urgent respect due his rank—and when one thought about it, it was amazing that he'd ever reached a high level in the Survey.
Now the young officer waited, brisk and kindly and blandly alert in manner. Hardwick reflected wryly that he could pin young Barnes' ears back easily enough. But he remembered when he'd been a junior Survey ship's officer. Then he'd felt a serene condescension toward all people of whatever rank who did not spend their lives in the cramped, skimped quarters of a Survey patrol-ship. If this young Lieutenant Barnes were fortunate, he'd always feel that way. Hardwick could not begrudge him the cockiness which made the tedium and hardships of the Service seem to him a privilege.
So he quite obediently followed Barnes through the wardroom door. He ducked his head under a ventilation slot and sidled past a standpipe with bristling air-valve handles. It almost closed the way. There was the smell of oil and paint and ozone which all proper Survey ships maintain in their working sections.
"Here, sir," said Barnes paternally. "This way."
He offered his arm for Hardwick to steady himself by. Hardwick ignored it. He stepped over a complex of white-painted pipes. He arrived at an almost clear way to a boat-blister.
"And your luggage, sir," added the young man reassuringly, "will follow you down immediately, sir. With the mail."
Hardwick nodded. He moved toward the blister door. He practically edged past constrictions due to new equipment. The Survey ship had been designed a long time ago, and there were no funds for rebuilding when improved devices came along. So any Survey ship was apt to be cluttered up with afterthoughts in metal.