"Nothing very grandiose, Steve. We've partly been forced and partly been convinced to revise our inspection procedure. Formerly, routine inspections have been carried out by men convalescing from injuries, or men released from active duty for one reason or another. It has been pointed out that such men--usually men of long experience, can hardly look upon such a routine job as anything but punishment, or a sop tossed to an invalid, or some other odious proposition, and they can hardly be expected to execute such a job without some bias. For instance, a man put upon such a job because of some minor infraction of the rules will smart under this punishment and take it out on spaceport managers, liner captains, and so forth--or will bugger the works by overlooking the possible danger spots. An invalid cannot be expected to do the job thoroughly. A pensioner is usually old enough to be less active." "I see; now we're making this a part of initial training?" "Right. And since Base One is staffed with experienced Guardians, we needed a newcomer to handle this job; you're it." Hagen smiled. "When do I start?" he asked. "Normally we'd start you after your second time out," said Charlemagne. "But since you've been told of your assignment, I see no reason why you should sit around day after day waiting for it to arrive. If you think you can make a long jaunt from star to star without getting the screaming meemies from space loneliness, you can start tomorrow." "I think I can." "Larrimer thinks you can lick it," smiled Charlemagne; "he said you ran the swamper as though you'd been with the mop-up squad for years." "I hardly think so." "You're a well-liked rookie," said the captain. "You'll make out. And," he added ruefully, "we'll be looking for another rookie in not too long a time. We wouldn't care to keep a potentially good man running errands too long. Just long enough," he said seriously, "so that he knows what the score is." * * * * * Steve found this was tedious work. Furnished with an itinerary, Steve spent the first day on Planet III of the star nearest to Base One, prowling in and out among the planetary installations of the Interstellar Company, finding nothing worth reporting. Pilots and engineroom mechanics knew that their lives depended upon the proper maintenance of their equipment, and they behaved accordingly. Furthermore, most of them resented Steve's insistence upon inspection because they deemed it a reflection on their workmanship. The fact that he admittedly knew less than they about the finer points of warp generators made it impossible for him to pay more than a cursory compliment as a sop to the interference.