He loaded the rifle and brought it to his shoulder. The sight weaved and bobbed. He brought it down again and looked back at his father. The older man pulled a cigarette from his breast pocket. "Go ahead," he said calmly. "Take a few deep breaths. And relax." Don bowed his shoulders and let the rifle hang loosely from his outstretched arms. He looked downrange, trying to drive everything out of his mind but the target hanging down there. Finally, he raised the weapon again. The sight bobbed about, then steadied. He put pressure on the trigger, then growled softly as the weapon fired. "Oh, no! Drifted off at three o'clock." His father exhaled a small cloud of smoke and said nothing. Don looked at him unhappily for a moment, then reloaded and brought the rifle up again. Finally, the tenth shot smacked against the backstop and he racked his weapon and punched at the target return button. His father got up and unclipped the sheet. "Well, let's see," he said. "Eight, nine, nine ... here's a nipper ten ... nine ... oh, me! You didn't do so well, did you?" "What would you expect?" grumbled Don. "Give me a couple of hours to simmer down and I'll take you on. Beat you, too." "Suppose you got into a fight, Don?" his father asked. "Think the guy'd give you a couple hours to simmer down? So you could maybe shoot his eye out?" * * * * * He turned and led the way to a couple of lounge chairs. "Sit down," he advised. "And turn on that light, will you?" He leaned back. "So you gave Andy Masterson a fast outline on manners, eh?" He laughed softly. "Boy, I'd like to have seen his face about then!" Don jerked his head around. "You know him, Dad?" "You could say I did once," his father answered. "We went through Guard training together. Served on the same base a few times. Some years ago, I retired. I'm pretty sure he didn't." Don pushed himself out of the chair and stood in front of his father. "You mean Mr. Masterson is----" Kent Michaels nodded slowly. "Stellar Guard Investigations? Yes, and I suspect he could wear quite a bit of silver lace, too, if he wanted to get dressed up." He clasped his hands behind his head. "Let's see, Don, you're almost twenty now. Right?" "That's right, Dad." "Uh huh. And you were born here on Khloris. Means I've been out of active duty for quite a while, at that." He smiled. "Got papers upstairs. They say I retired a little more than twenty-one years ago. Got official permission to live on an outworld and joined the first group of colonists here. Of course, they don't say anything about the people that told me to do all that." Don stared at him. "What are you getting at, Dad?" His father smiled. "Man retires, he's supposed to be all through with duty. Not subject to recall except in case of galaxy-wide emergency." He nodded thoughtfully.