s nothing on Earth to fight them
with. This, you must realize, is the reason why all prisoners leaving
Earth are divorced from their memories. If they _remembered_, Earth's
vulnerability would be painfully apparent."

"If you knew all this," Barrent asked, "why didn't your leaders do
something about it?"

"That was our original intention. But there was no real drive behind the
intention. We preferred not to think about it. We assumed the status quo
would remain indefinitely. We didn't want to think about the day when
the Omegans returned to Earth."

"What are you and your police going to do about it?" Barrent asked.

"I am facade, too," Dravivian told him. "I have no police. The position
of Chief is entirely honorary. There has been no need of a police force
on Earth for close to a century."

"You're going to need one when the Omegans come home," Barrent said.

"Yes. There's going to be crime again, and serious trouble. But I think
the final amalgamation will be successful. You on Omega have the drive,
the ambition to reach the stars. I believe you need a certain stability
and creativeness which Earth can provide. Whatever the results, the
union is inevitable. We've lived in a dream here for too long. It's
going to take violent measures to awaken us."

Dravivian rose to his feet. "And now," he said, "since the fate of Earth
and Omega seem to be decided, could I offer you some refreshment?"

Chapter Twenty-Nine

With the help of the Chief of Police, Barrent put a message aboard the
next ship to leave for Omega. The message told about conditions on Earth
and urged immediate action. When that was finished, Barrent was ready
for his final job--to find the judge who had sentenced him for a crime
he hadn't committed, and the lying informer who had turned him in to the
judge. When he found those two, Barrent knew he would regain the missing
portions of his memory.

He took the night expressway to Youngerstun. His suspicions, sharply
keyed from life on Omega, would not let him rest. There had to be a
catch to all this splendid simplicity. Perhaps he would find it in
Youngerstun.

By early morning he was there. Superficially, the neat rows of houses
looked the same as in any other town. But for Barrent they were
different, and achingly familiar. He _remembered_ this town, and the
monotonous houses had individuality and meaning for him. He had been
born and raised in this town.

There was Grothmeir's store,