sunlit square. Guards were forming the disembarked prisoners into files;
on all sides, 402 could see a crowd of spectators watching.

A loudspeaker voice boomed, "Answer when your number is called. Your
identity will now be revealed to you. Answer promptly when your number
is called."

402 felt weak and very tired. Not even his identity could interest him
now. All he wanted to do was lie down, to sleep, to have a chance to
think about his situation. He looked around and took casual note of the
huge starcraft behind him, of the guards, the spectators. Overhead, he
saw black dots moving against a blue sky. At first he thought they were
birds. Then, looking closer, he saw they were guardships. He wasn't
particularly interested in them.

"Number 1! Speak out!"

"Here," a voice answered.

"Number 1, your name is Wayn Southholder. Age 34, blood type A-L2, Index
AR-431-C. Guilty of treason."

When the voice had finished, a loud cheer came up from the crowd. They
were applauding the prisoner's traitorous actions, and welcoming him to
Omega.

The names were read down the list, and 402, drowsy in the sunshine,
dozed on his feet and listened to the crimes of murder, credit theft,
deviationalism, and mutantism. At last his number was called.

"Number 402."

"Here."

"Number 402, your name is Will Barrent. Age 27, blood type O-L3, Index
JX-221-R. Guilty of murder."

The crowd cheered, but 402 scarcely heard them. He was trying to
accustom himself to the idea of having a name. A real name instead of a
number. Will Barrent. He hoped he wouldn't forget it. He repeated the
name to himself over and over again, and almost missed the last
announcement from the ship's loudspeaker.

"The new men are now released upon Omega. You will be given temporary
housing at Square A-2. Be cautious and circumspect in your words and
actions. Watch, listen, and learn. The law requires me to tell you that
the average life expectancy on Omega is approximately three Earth
years."

It took a while for those last words to take effect on Barrent. He was
still contemplating the novelty of having a name. He hadn't considered
any of the implications of being a murderer on an underworld planet.

Chapter Two

The new prisoners were led to a row of barracks at Square A-2. There
were nearly five hundred of them. They were not yet men; they were
entities whose true memories extended barely an hour in time. Sitting on
their bunks, the newbor