all busy inside the dome with their private war, the committee had
been the only means of keeping order in the whole territory beyond. It
was now extended to cover about half the area, as a voluntary police
organization.

He pointed outside. It was changed; there were fewer people outside.
Gordon had never seen group starvation before....

They passed a crowd around a crude gallows, and Schulberg stopped. A man
was already dead and dangling. "Should turn 'em over to us cops,"
Schulberg said. "What's he hanged for?"

"Hoarding," a voice answered, and others supplied the few details. The
dead man had been caught with a half bag of flour and part of a case of
beans. Schulberg found a scrap of something and penciled the crime on
it, together with a circle signature, and pinned it to the body.

"All food should be turned in," he explained to Gordon as they climbed
back into the truck. "We figure community kitchens can stretch things a
bit more. And we give a half extra ration to the guys who can find
anything useful to do. We got enough so most people won't starve to
death for another week, I guess. But you'd better get Praeger to send
something, Gordon. Here, here's the scratch we scraped up."

He passed over a bag filled with a collection of small bills and coins.
"We can trust you, I guess," he said dully. "Remember you with Murdoch,
anyhow. And you can tell Praeger we got plenty of men looking for work,
in case he can use 'em."

He pulled up to shout a report through the big Marspeaker as they passed
the old building Murdoch had used as a precinct house. It now had a
crude sign proclaiming it voluntary police HQ and outland government
center. Then he went on until they came to a spur of the little electric
monorail system, with three abandoned service engines parked at the end.

"Extra air inside, and the best we could do for food. Was gonna try
myself, but I don't know Praeger," Schulberg said. He handed over a key,
and nodded toward the first service engine. "Good luck, Gordon--and damn
it, we're--we gotta eat, don't we? You tell him that! It ain't much--but
get what you can!"

He swung the truck, and was gone. Gordon climbed into the enclosed cab
and pulled back questioningly on the only lever he could see. The engine
backed briefly; he reversed the control. Then it moved forward, picking
up speed. Apparently there was still power flowing in from the automatic
atomic generators.

He got off to puzzle out a