ssed with the sign of some mob,
and obviously were well staffed with hoodlums ready to protect the
proprietor. Private houses were boarded up. The scattering of
last-minute shoppers along the streets showed that most of the citizens
were laying in supplies to last until after election.

Gordon passed the First Marsport Bank and saw that it was surrounded by
barbed wires, with other strands still being strung, and with a sign
proclaiming that there was high voltage in the wires. Watching the
operation was Jurgens; it was obvious that his hoodlums had been hired
for the job.

Toward the edge of the dome, where Mother Corey's place was, the
narrower streets were filling with the gangs, already half-drunk and
marching about with their banners and printed signs. Curiously enough,
all the gangs weren't working for Wayne's re-election. The big Star
Point gang had apparently grown tired of the increasing cost of
protection from the government, and was actively campaigning for Nolan.
Their home territory reached nearly to Mother Corey's, before it ran
into the no man's land separating it from the gang of Nick the Croop.
The Croopsters were loyal to Wayne.

Gordon turned into his usual short-cut, past a rambling plastics plant
and through the yard where their trucks were parked. He had half
expected to find it barricaded, but apparently the rumors that Nick the
Croop owned it were true; it would be protected in other ways, with the
trucks used for street fighting, if needed. He threaded his way between
two of the trucks.

Then a yell reached his ears, and something swished at him. An egg-sized
rock hit the truck behind him and bounced back, just as he spotted a
hoodlum drawing back a sling for a second shot.

Gordon was on his knees between heartbeats, darting under one of the
trucks. He rolled to his feet, letting out a yell of his own, and
plunged forward. His fist hit the thug in the elbow, just as the man's
hand reached for his knife. His other hand chopped around, and the edge
of his palm connected with the other's nose. Cartilage crunched, and a
shrill cry of agony lanced out.

But the hoodlum wasn't alone. Another came out from the rear of one of
the trucks. Gordon ducked as a knife sailed for his head; they were
stupid enough not to aim for his stomach, at least. He bent down to
locate some of the rubble on the ground, cursing his folly in carrying
his knife under his uniform. The new beat had given him a false sen