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167
The Status Civilization
·
Robert Sheckley
24
As
he
passed
her,
he
felt
something
hard
pressed
into
his
ribs.
He
reached
for
it,
and
found
he
was
holding
a
small,
efficient-looking
gun.
"Luck,"
the
girl
said.
"I
hope
you
know
how
to
use
it."
Barrent
nodded
his
thanks.
He
wasn't
sure
he
knew
how;
but
he
was
going
to
find
out.
Chapter
Four
The
street
was
deserted
except
for
the
three
Hadjis,
who
stood
about
twenty
yards
away,
conversing
quietly.
As
Barrent
came
through
the
doorway,
two
of
the
men
moved
back;
the
third,
his
sidearm
negligently
lowered,
stepped
forward.
When
he
saw
that
Barrent
was
armed
he
quickly
brought
his
gun
into
firing
position.
Barrent
flung
himself
to
the
ground
and
pressed
the
trigger
of
his
unfamiliar
weapon.
He
felt
it
vibrate
in
his
hand,
and
saw
the
Hadji's
head
and
shoulders
turn
black
and
begin
to
crumble.
Before
he
could
take
aim
at
the
other
men,
Barrent's
gun
was
wrenched
violently
from
his
hand.
The
Hadji's
dying
shot
had
creased
the
end
of
the
muzzle.
Desperately
Barrent
dived
for
the
gun,
knowing
he
could
never
reach
it
in
time.
His
skin
pricked
in
expectation
of
the
killing
shot.
He
rolled
to
his
gun,
still
miraculously
alive,
and
took
aim
at
the
nearest
Hadji.
Just
in
time,
he
checked
himself
from
firing.
The
Hadjis
had
holstered
their
weapons.
One
of
them
was
saying,
"Poor
old
Draken.
He
simply
could
not
learn
to
take
quick
aim."
"Lack
of
practice,"
the
other
man
said.
"Draken
never
spent
much
time
on
the
firing
range."
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