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167
The Status Civilization
·
Robert Sheckley
34
Barrent
bought
a
sidearm
from
him.
On
Rend's
advice,
he
chose
a
Jamiason-Tyre
needlebeam.
It
was
faster
and
more
accurate
than
any
projectile
weapon,
and
it
transmitted
the
same
shock-power
as
a
heavy
caliber
bullet.
To
be
sure,
it
hadn't
the
spread
of
heat
weapons
such
as
the
Hadjis
used,
which
could
kill
within
six
inches
of
their
target.
But
wide-range
beamers
encouraged
inaccuracy.
They
were
messy,
careless
weapons
which
reinforced
careless
traits.
Anyone
could
fire
a
heat
gun;
but
to
use
a
needlebeam
effectively,
you
had
to
practice
constantly.
And
practice
paid
off.
A
good
needlebeam
man
was
more
than
a
match
for
any
two
widebeam
gunmen.
Barrent
took
this
advice
to
heart,
coming,
as
it
did,
from
an
apprentice
assassin
and
the
owner
of
a
weapon
shop.
He
put
in
long
hours
on
Rend's
cellar
firing
range,
sharpening
his
reflexes,
getting
used
to
the
Quik-Thro
holster.
There
was
a
lot
to
do
and
a
tremendous
amount
to
learn,
just
in
order
to
survive.
Barrent
didn't
mind
hard
work
as
long
as
it
was
for
a
worthwhile
goal.
He
hoped
things
would
stay
quiet
for
a
while
so
he
could
catch
up
to
the
older
inhabitants.
But
things
never
stayed
quiet
in
Omega.
One
day,
late
in
the
afternoon
as
he
was
closing
up,
Barrent
received
an
unusual-looking
caller.
He
was
a
man
in
his
fifties,
heavy-set,
with
a
stern,
swarthy
face.
He
wore
a
red
ankle-length
robe
and
sandals.
Around
his
waist
was
a
rawhide
belt
from
which
dangled
a
small
black
book
and
a
red-handled
dagger.
There
was
an
air
of
unusual
force
and
authority
about
him.
Barrent
was
unable
to
tell
his
status.
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