Riley came into my room one evening. His face was tight, and he plunged to business. "Con, do you really mean all you've said about the Empire?"
"Why, of course. I—" I glanced out the window, as if expecting to see a spy. If there were any, I knew he would be native. The Empire just doesn't have enough men for a secret police, even if we wanted to indulge in that sort of historically ineffective control.
"You'd like to fight them? Like really to help the Legion of Freedom when they strike?"
"You bet your obscenity life!" I snarled. "When they land on Earth, I'll get a gun somewhere and be right there in the middle of the battle with them!"
"Yeah." Riley puffed a cigaret for a while. Then he said, "Look, I can't tell you much. I'm taking a chance just telling you this. It could mean my life if you passed it on to the Eridanians."
"I won't."
His eyes were bleak. "You damn well better not. If you're caught at that—"
He drew a finger sharply across his throat.
"Quit talking like a B-class stereo," I bristled. "If you've got something to tell me, let's have it. Otherwise get out."
"Yeah, sure. We checked up on you, Con, and we think you're as good a prospect as we ever came across. If you want to fight the Eridanians now—join the Legion now—here's your chance."