his plan seemed to work. He ignored the increasingly
peremptory notes from the Dream Shop and did not return to services at
the Wee Coven. Business prospered, and Barrent spent his spare time
studying the effects of the rarer poisons and practicing with his
needlebeam. He often thought about the girl. He still had the gun she
had lent him. He wondered if he would ever see her again.

And he thought about Earth. Since his visit to the Dream Shop, he had
occasional flashes of recall, isolated pictures of a weathered stone
building, a stand of live oaks, the curve of a river seen through
willows. This half-remembered Earth filled him with an almost unbearable
longing. Like most of the citizens of Omega, his only real wish was to
go home.

And that was impossible.

The days passed, and when trouble came, it came unexpectedly. One night
there was a heavy knocking at his door. Half asleep, Barrent answered
it. Four uniformed men pushed their way inside and told him he was under
arrest.

"What for?" Barrent asked.

"Non-drug addiction," one of the men told him. "You have three minutes
to dress."

"What's the penalty?"

"You'll find out in court," the man said. He winked at the other guards
and added, "But the only way to cure a nonaddict is to kill him. Eh?"

Barrent dressed.

* * * * *

He was taken to a room in the sprawling Department of Justice. The room
was called the Kangaroo Court, in honor of ancient Anglo-Saxon judicial
proceeding. Across the hall from it, also of antique derivation, was the
Star Chamber. Just past that was the Court of Last Appeal.

The Kangaroo Court was divided in half by a high wooden screen, for it
was fundamental to Omegan justice that the accused should not see his
judge nor any of the witnesses against him.

"Let the prisoner rise," a voice said from behind the screen. The voice,
thin, flat and emotionless, came through a small amplifier. Barrent
could barely understand the words; tone and inflection were lost, as had
been planned for. Even in speaking, the judge remained anonymous.

"Will Barrent," the judge said, "you have been brought before this court
on a major charge of non-drug addiction and a minor charge of religious
impiety. On the minor count we have the sworn statement of a priest. On
the major count we have the testimony of the Dream Shop. Can you refute
either of these charges?"

Barrent thought for a moment, then answered, "No, s