Barrent had much to think about, but the more he thought, the more he
became confused. If Illiardi had killed Therkaler, why had Barrent been
deported to Omega? If an honest mistake had been made, why hadn't he
been released when the true murderer was discovered? Why had someone on
Earth accused him of a crime he hadn't committed? And why had a false
memory of that crime been superimposed on his mind just beneath the
conscious level?
Barrent had no answers for his questions. But he knew that he had never
felt like a murderer. Now he had proof, of sorts, that he wasn't a
murderer.
The sensation of innocence changed everything for him. He had less
tolerance for Omegan ways, and no interest at all in conforming to a
criminal mode of life. The only thing he wanted was to escape from Omega
and return to his rightful heritage on Earth.
But that was impossible. Day and night, the guardships circled overhead.
Even if there had been some way of evading them, escape would still
have been impossible. Omegan technology had progressed only as far as
the internal combustion engine; the only starships were commanded by
Earth forces.
Barrent continued to work in the Antidote Shop, but his lack of public
spirit was growing apparent. He ignored invitations from the Dream Shop,
and never attended any of the popular public executions. When roving
mobs were formed to have a little fun in the Mutant Quarter, Barrent
usually pleaded a headache. He never joined the Landing Day Hunts, and
he was rude to an accredited salesman from the Torture of the Month
Club. Not even visits from Uncle Ingemar could make him change his
antireligious ways.
He knew he was asking for trouble. He expected trouble, and the
knowledge was strangely exhilarating. After all, there was nothing wrong
in breaking the law on Omega--as long as you could get away with it.
* * * * *
Within a month, he had a chance to test his decision. Walking to his
shop one day, a man shoved against him in a crowd. Barrent moved away,
and the man grabbed him by a shoulder and pulled him around.
"Who do you think you're pushing?" the man asked. He was short and
stocky. His clothes indicated Privileged Citizen's rank. Five silver
stars on his gunbelt showed his number of authorized kills.
"I didn't push you," Barrent said.
"You lie, you _mutant-lover_."
The crowd became silent when they heard the deadly insult. Barrent
backed away, waiting. The man went for his sidearm in a quick, artistic
draw. But Barrent's needlebeam was out a full half-second before the
man's weapon had cleared his holster.
He drilled the man neatly between the eyes; then, sensing movement
behind him, he swung around.
Two Privileged Citizens were drawing heat guns. Barrent fired, aiming
automatically, dodging behind the protection of a shop front. The men
crumpled. The wooden front buckled under the impact of a projectile
weapon and splinters slashed his hand. Barrent saw a fourth man firing
at him from an alley. He brought the man down with two shots.
And that was that. In the space of a few seconds, he had killed four
men.
Although he didn't think of himself as having a murderer's mentality,
Barrent was pleased and elated. He had fired only in self-defense. He
had given the status-seekers something to think about; they wouldn't be
so quick to gun for him next time. Quite possibly they would concentrate
on easier targets and leave him alone.
When he returned to his shop, he found Joe waiting for him. The little
credit thief had a sour look on his face. He said, "I saw your fancy
gun-work today. Very pretty."
"Thank you," Barrent said.
"Do you think that sort of thing will help you? Do you think you can
just go on breaking the law?"
"I'm getting away with it," Barrent said.
"Sure. But how long do you think you can keep it up?"
"As long as I have to."
"Not a chance," Joe said. "_Nobody_ keeps on breaking the law and
getting away with it. Only suckers believe that."
"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."