Now she paused. Rik Guelf was trembling.
"If I become a Titan ..." raced through his mind. Then he thought of Galactic Service and his years with it, of the years spent preparing for the service, of men who had spent their lives serving it.
He had never seen Earth, but many of the men he had served with had been demoted at the whim of some sector director or other political bigwig down there on Earth. There was outlawry aplenty there, they knew. And the Galaxy Service had the job of fighting Earth's battles—some of them battles against organized outlaws. And the outlaws were renegade Earthmen.
Space men talked of the good old days, when their forefathers met other life-forms in the Galaxy. There was the showdown with Vegans, which lasted five centuries. Galactic Service had to have sporadic conflicts, skirmishes if not battles, in order to expand. Always the service was expanding. The trinogen gun was developed for colonizing expeditions in hundreds of sectors where life-forms had outgunned Galactic Service in the past.
"I should like to live the sort of life my father chose," Rik said abruptly. "Is it possible for me to become a Titan, too?"
Shellon smiled. "You must first tell your Captain Rodolph of your decision." She was studying him, her eyes bright now. "After that," she added, "I shall be waiting for you at the barrier—here."
"You know why I want to be a Titan?" Rik asked slowly.
"Hurry," she said softly, "and tell Rodolph." Her cheeks were flushed, her face alive. "Yes, I know. I know, darling—"