Steve had not seen nor heard from his foster father since that meeting in Wrightwood's office, and he knew that another meeting was inevitable. Hagen would have preferred to have the meeting on a ground of his own selection where he could choose his own weapons, but this was not to be. Yet Steve was not totally unprepared when, inspecting one of the larger planetary installations of Interstellar, he was asked into the main office. It was not of Hagen's choosing, but it was better than to have Wrightwood land at Base One, where the wily magnate could by word, gesture, and incomplete statement indicate more than the truth before Steve's fellow Guardians. Such a program requires too vigorous a rebuttal; no reply or denial is adequate to remove the doubt that always lingers. So Steve entered the main office with a wry smile and nodded at Wrightwood. He waited the older man out. "How are you doing?" asked Wrightwood. "All right." "A bit dull, isn't it?" "Life is often dull," remarked Hagen noncommittally. "Look, Steve, why not take it a bit easier?" "What do you mean?" William Wrightwood eyed Steve coldly. "Now look," he said quietly, "we'll admit for once and for all, that you and I don't get along." "Well, that's a concession." "All right, take it as you will. But it's true; for some inexplicable reason you hate my guts--" Steve grunted. "It's not so damned inexplicable." Wrightwood sighed. "What's done is done," he said softly. "But take a look at the present and the future instead of the past; view this, honestly if you can, in the eye of an outsider." "Can you?" "I can and I have; I've also the opinion of outsiders." "Do tell." "I will. You are in what might be called an unpleasant situation. You are the legal heir to the Interstellar holdings whether or not you deny it. You were rechristened Wrightwood whether you try to deny it or not. In the eyes of the world you are my son, brought up by my money and educated by my background. You--" "Thanks--" Wrightwood held up a hand to still Steve's sour voice. "Hear me out. Instead of acting as heir to my fortune and crown prince to my business, you engage and embark upon a career which is in diametric opposition to my interest. In shorter words, you have left my company in anger and signed up with the opposition." "Correct." "So now, possibly to salve your own qualms, you are leaning so far over backwards that you are about to fall on the back of your head." Steve snorted. "Deny it," smiled Wrightwood in a superior manner. "Just to prove to yourself and to your superiors, you've been cracking down hard on me." * * * * * Steve eyed Wrightwood sharply. "Seems to me that your underlings might be more considerate of your holdings," he snapped. "What do you mean?"