They'd better send some good men after me," Barrent said, reloading his
needlebeam.

"That's not how it'll happen," Joe said. "Believe me, Will, there's no
counting the ways they have of getting you. Once the law decides to
move, there'll be nothing you can do to stop it. And don't expect any
help from that girl friend of yours, either."

"Do you know her?" Barrent asked.

"I know everybody," Joe said moodily. "I've got friends in the
government. I know that people have had about enough of you. Listen to
me, Will. Do you want to end up dead?"

Barrent shook his head. "Joe, can you visit Moera? Do you know how to
reach her?"

"Maybe," Joe said. "What for?"

"I want you to tell her something," Barrent said. "I want you to tell
her that I didn't commit the murder I was accused of on Earth."

Joe stared at him. "Are you out of your mind?"

"No. I found the man who actually did it. He's a Second Class Resident
named Illiardi."

"Why spread it around?" Joe asked. "No sense in losing credit for the
kill."

"I didn't murder the man," Barrent said. "I want you to tell Moera. Will
you?"

"I'll tell her," Joe said. "If I can locate her. Look, will you remember
what I've said? Maybe you still have time to do something about it. Go
to Black Mass or something. It might help."

"Maybe I'll do that," Barrent said. "You'll be sure to tell her?"

"I'll tell her," Joe said. He left the Antidote Shop shaking his head
sadly.

Chapter Fifteen

Three days later, Barrent received a visit from a tall, dignified man
who stood as rigidly erect as the ceremonial sword that hung by his
side. The old man wore a high-collared coat, black pants, and gleaming
black boots. From his clothing, Barrent knew he was a high government
official.

"The government of Omega sends you greetings," said the official. "I am
Norins Jay, Sub-Minister of Games. I am here, as required by law, to
inform you personally of your good fortune."

Barrent nodded warily and invited the old man into his apartment. But
Jay, erect and proper, preferred to stay in the store.

"The yearly Lottery drawing was held last night," Jay said. "You,
Citizen Barrent, are one of the prize winners. I congratulate you."

"What is the prize?" Barrent asked. He had heard of the yearly Lottery,
but had only a vague idea of its significance.

"The prize," Jay said, "is honor and fame. Your name inscribed on the
civic rolls. Your record of kills preserved for poster