"Then until you find out how this warp generator got past your inspection, you'll be released from duty," said Morehouse. "You have no status, Hagen. You will wear the uniform in courtesy only, since you are a member of the organization, and you are subject to our rules. Your pay will continue, since we have no recourse, and your stated duty will be one of investigation on one subject only: Ascertaining the base for this near-explosion!" "But--" "That's the edict," said Morehouse. "Lois--?" "What can I say?" "You--?" "Steve, I think a lot of you. More than I have thought of or considered any other man. And until hatred came out, you were it. Hatred is a nasty thing, Steve; it is not a good thing to found a love or a life upon. So until you rise above your hatred, it's no go. Lose it or burn it or beat it--and then come back." Hagen turned and left the office. He felt beaten. Where was he to start? 6 Hours later in his quarters, Steve was still pondering the same question. There were so many angles to follow. Steve did not like to think that maybe Morehouse was right, that, subconsciously, he had overlooked the faulty generator hoping that Wrightwood would lose by the accident. He certainly had not overlooked the generator with malice. On the other hand there were other factors that could be plausible. Wrightwood wanted to control Steve; might not Wrightwood's own men have fouled the generator, knowing that Steve had checked it only hours before? The fact that the Guardians got there in time to save the whole ship indicated that someone was on his toes. Any shadow of suspicion cast upon Steve would work toward Wrightwood's ends. Nor were the Guardians beyond suspicion. Wanting to bring this thing into the open, what better way than to louse the generator themselves and let the natural course of events take care of Hagen. It was not a pretty tangle. Every angle remained closed to him; Steve could not open the first door, for he had not the authority to question anybody. But until he got the answer, Steve was not going to do what he wanted to do. The days wore on into a week, and then the week grew into a month. Steve, unattached, roved the galactic sector, nosing in generator rooms of spacecraft hoping to pick up some clue. He had to give up the idea of substitution. The generator delivered to Morehouse's office was the generator that had been taken from the threatened ship; it was the same generator he had checked a few hours before the ship took off. * * * * * After two months Steve was ready to admit defeat. Only determination remained, and that was wearing very thin. No longer did he have the regard of his fellows; his unattached state was practically a condition of disgrace and everybody knew it. He saw little of Lois; alone he saw her not at all.