s can't afford it."

Lane frowned with the effort of thinking. "You said I had a little right
on my side. That's a good feeling. Nobody ever told me to feel that way
about myself before. It'll be better to die knowing that."

"I know," she said.

The amplified voice from below said, "The police analogue computer is
now hooked directly to the controls of the blaster cannon battery. It
will outguess Lane's cybrain and check his moves ahead of time."

Lane looked at Gerri. "How about giving me a kiss before they get us? Be
nice if I kissed a girl like you just once in my life."

She smiled and walked forward. "You deserve it, Lane."

He kissed her and it filled him with longings for things he couldn't
name. Then he stepped back and shook his head. "It ain't right you
should get killed. If I take a dive out that window, they shoot at me,
not in here."

"And kill you all the sooner."

"Better than getting burned up in this lousy little room. You also got
right on your side. There's too many damn Troopers and not enough good
persons like you. Old cybrain says stay here, but I don't guess I will.
I'm gonna pay you back for that kiss."

"But you're safe in here!"

"Worry about yourself, not about me." Lane picked up the force-bomb and
handed it to her. "When I say now, press this. Then take your hand off,
real fast. It'll shut off the screen for a second."

He stepped up on to the window ledge. Automatically, the cybrain cut in
his paragrav-paks. "So long, outa-towner. _Now!_"

He jumped. He was hurtling across the Square when the blaster cannons
opened up. They weren't aimed at the window where the little
red-white-and-green tricolor was flying. But they weren't aimed at Lane,
either. They were shooting wild.

_Which way now? Looks like I got a chance. Old cybrain says fly right
for the cannons._

He saw the Mayor's balcony ahead. _Go to hell, old cybrain. I'm doing
all right by myself. I come to see the Mayor, and I'm gonna see him._

Lane plunged forward. He heard the shouts of frightened men.

He swooped over the balcony railing. A man was pointing a blaster pistol
at him. There were five men on the balcony--emergency! Years of training
and cybrain took over. Lane's hand shot out, fingers vibrating. As he
dropped to the balcony floor in battle-crouch, the men slumped around
him.

He had seen the man with the blaster pistol before. It was the Mayor of
Newyork.

Lane stood for a moment in the midst of t