barracks, you idiot!"

He slammed the last steel shutter into place and locked it. Barrent felt
a sudden cold touch of fear. Something was very wrong. He had better get
back in a hurry. It had been stupid of him not to find out more about
Omegan customs before....

Three men were walking down the street toward him. They were well
dressed, and each wore the small golden Hadji earring in his left ear.
All three men carried sidearms.

Barrent started to walk away from them. One of the men shouted, "Stop,
peon!"

Barrent saw that the man's hand was dangling near his gun. He stopped
and said, "What's the matter?"

"It's Landing Day," the man said. He looked at his friends. "Well, who
gets him first?"

"We'll choose."

"Here's a coin."

"No, a show of fingers."

"Ready? One, two, three!"

"He's mine," said the Hadji on the left. His friends moved back as he
drew his sidearm.

"Wait!" Barrent called out. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to shoot you," the man said.

"But why?"

The man smiled. "Because it's a Hadji privilege. On every Landing Day,
we have the right to shoot down any new peon who leaves his barracks
area."

"But I wasn't told!"

"Of course not," the man said. "If you new men were told, none of you
would leave your barracks on Landing Day. And that would spoil all the
fun."

He took aim.

Barrent reacted instantaneously. He threw himself to the ground as the
Hadji fired, heard a hiss, and saw a jagged heatburn score the brick
building next to which he had been standing.

"My turn now," one of the men said.

"Sorry, old man, I believe it's mine."

"Seniority, dear friend, has its privileges. Stand clear."

Before the next man could take aim, Barrent was on his feet and running.
The sharply winding street protected him for the moment, but he could
hear the sounds of his pursuers behind him. They were running at an easy
stride, almost a fast walk, as if they were completely sure of their
prey. Barrent put on a burst of speed, turned down a side street, and
knew immediately he had made a mistake. He was facing a dead end. The
Hadjis, moving at an easy pace, were coming up behind him.

Barrent looked wildly around. Store fronts here were all locked and
shuttered. There was nowhere he could climb to, no place to hide.

And then he saw an open door halfway down the block in the direction of
his pursuers. He had run right by it. A sign protruding from the
building above the doorway sa