BY THIS EDICT:

Experimentation aimed at the establishment of travel through time is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH.

Experimentation aimed at control over the time flow is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH.

Experimentation aimed at retrieving objects from past or future states is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH.

Experimentation aimed at gaining direct consciousness of or retrieving information from past or future states is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH.

Possession of any artifact or natural object exhibiting one or more of the above properties is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH.  Possession of any document containing explicit data relating thereto is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH.

Acts of experimentation, research of inquiry into the nature of time are forbidden UNDER PAIN OF LIFE IMPRISONMENT OR DEATH unless with the express permission of the Office of Scientific Regulation.  Publication of confirmed or theoretical data relating thereto is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF LIFE IMPRISONMENT OR DEATH unless with the express permission of the Office of Scientific Regulation.

(Bearing the seal of the Department of Law Propagation.)

Gare Romrey left Karti's in a hurry, leaving his friends there feeling decidedly less friendly.  Outplanet in a rented Stardiver, he paused within call range just before going into hype, and dialed through.  Being what he was, he was quite unable to resist this last look back.

Karti's Dive Infee Club came up on the cage plate, sour light from the ceiling strips falling on stained walls and tattered furniture.  The bar was sticky with spilled drinks to which adhered ash from waft sticks.  Only about half a dozen people were visible - the others had decamped in an effort to stop Romrey from reaching the ship ground.  They crowded the screen when they realized who was bleeping them.

Up front was the thin-faced redheaded kosher pimp with the archaic cognomen of Jericho Junkie.  Romrey flashed him a quick smile.

"I thought I'd just explain, boys -"

"He's offplanet," someone behind Jericho muttered.  The purveyor ponce (he supplied a specialized sexual taste involving a rare genetic type of woman, a certain drug and a specially treated aphrodisiac food) glared at Romrey with hot eyes.  "One chance, Romrey. You've got one chance to get back here with the cube.  Otherwise -"

"This, you mean?"  Romrey held up the half-inch-sized memory cube which Jericho had been selling by lottery and which he had filched just before the numbers were about to be called.  "You've got to trust me, boys. I thought of a better plan, that's all.  I asked myself what would happen if one of you won the cube.  What would you do with it?  Go out there and try to land on Meirjain?"  He shook his head.  "It would be a fiasco.  Me, now - I can handle a job like that.  When I get back I'll split the incomings with you."