"You come in with us. Walk ahead."

"We got a choice?" J.B. asked.

"Sure." The man almost smiled. "Walk ahead or we chill you. All of you."

"Some fucking choice," Finnegan whispered.

The jeep growled along after them, keeping in low gear. One of the sec men kept position on the machine gun in the rear, covering the seven of them.

"Sure is a big ville," J.B. said.

Doc Tanner shook his head. "There is something about it that puts me unconscionably in mind of a trim little town in the Bible Belt before the war."

"In vids, you mean, Doc?" Finnegan asked.

"Yes, of course."

The leader of the patrol called out to them as they neared a barrier across the road: a single striped pole beside a small stone hut. Two sec men, carrying brightly polished carbines, marched briskly to and fro in front of the barrier. Ryan was struck again by the neatness and cleanliness of the whole operation.

"Hold it there."

They stopped. Ryan turned to face the jeep. "This going to take long? We're real tired and we could do with some food."

"You don't have any passes. Don't have any Ginnsburg Falls creds. No food slips. And you haven't seen Mayor Sissy."

"Who?" Ryan asked incredulously.

"Mayor Sissy. And I surely hope that isn't a smile I see on anyone's face. Best learn first off that rule number one isn't to find names funny. Believe me, an outworlder can get chilled faster than a fish down a fall. You'll meet Mayor Theodore Sissy before you reach your quarters. First, we got to get your names. Corp!"

The taller of the two guards on the barrier came smartly forward, giving a salute that involved patting his left shoulder with his gauntleted right fist. "Yes, Sec Commander?"

"Note of names."

"Sir."

The man in charge of the jeep came closer. "You're the leader here," he said, addressing Ryan Cawdor. "Watch your people and walk the line. You'll enjoy your time with us in Ginnsburg Falls. You'll do fine."

"Have a nice day," Doc Tanner said, making the sec commander turn and look at him suspiciously, as though he suspected the old man was sending him up.

"You," the tall guard said, pointing at Ryan. "Name. Place."

"You mean, where have I come from?"

"Yes. Place of habitation."

"Name's Ryan Cawdor. I came from..." he hesitated, wondering just where he did come from "...Front Royal out in the Shens."

"Don't know it. That's outworld here."

The Armorer answered next. "Name's J. B. Dix."

The guard wrote it down on a large pad. "Another outworlder. What are the letters for?"

"What letters?"

"Your name? Your first name?"

Ryan's jaw dropped. He'd known the little Armorer for something approaching ten years, and he realized now that he'd never even known what the initials stood for. It had always been J.B., nothing else.

"First name's John."

"What's the Bfor?"

"Barrymore, you double-stupe bastard! John Barrymore Dix. You got it?"

"Don't let anger lead you into dangerous pathways, my outworlder friend," the sec guard replied, calmly writing the name down.

"John Barrymore!" Ryan repeated unbelievingly. "No wonder you kept that closely guarded."

"Your mother must have had thespian interests," Doc Tanner said.

"She was as fucking norm as me, so watch that flapping lip of yours, Doc," J.B. warned, bristling like an enraged bantam cockerel.

"No, my dear friend. A thespian. A lover of the theatrical arts. There was a famous actor called John Barrymore many years ago."

"Oh," he said, slightly mollified. "I never knowed any of that, Doc."

"Oh, yes, indeed. A famous man. A wonderful, wonderful actor."

"Your name, old man?" the guard demanded.

"Dr. Theophilus Tanner, master of arts, doctor of philosophy and a citizen of the free world."

"Outworlder?"

"Yes."

"Thomas O'Flaherty Fingal Finnegan, born somewheres around the Windy City," Finn butted in.

"Where were you born, old man?" the sec guard asked, ignoring the fat man's exaggerated bow.

"South Strafford, a tiny hamlet close by White River Junction in the beautiful state of Vermont. In the year of Our Lord..." Suddenly he stopped, as if someone had jammed his tongue in a closing door. He coughed, glancing sideways, but only Ryan had been listening to him; the sec man wasn't interested in anyone's age.

"You, boy? By the crucified Savior! Your hair? And your eyes and skin. Are you the spawn of Beelzebub?"

"No, I'm Jak Lauren from West Lowellton."

The guard swallowed hard, then scribbled the name down.

J.B. raised a hand. "You never asked where I came from."

"Where?"

"Cripple Creek, in the Rockies."

It was all dutifully entered on the pad. The jeep still waited behind them, engine ticking over. Ryan watched the sec men and saw how sharp they seemed, constantly alert, never taking their eyes off the newcomers.

Particularly, he noticed, they were fascinated by the bizarre appearance of Jak Lauren, seeming almost frightened by the fourteen-year-old boy with the colorless skin.

"That's all," the sec commander said. "Head on in and we'll tell..."

"What about us?" Krysty Wroth interrupted.

"How's that?"

"You haven't taken our names down. My name's..."

"Shut it."

The command was flat and dismissive. Ryan felt Krysty stiffen in anger, and he put a cautious hand on her arm. But she shook him off and stepped up to face the man, staring into his hooded eyes.

"Don't talk to me like that."

Ignoring her, the sec officer said, "Outworlder Cawdor, tell her that in Ginnsburg Falls, it's only men that count."

"Don't understand," Ryan said.

The sec commander continued, speaking more slowly and distinctly, as if he were addressing a backward child. "Others don't function."

"What the?.." Krysty began, stopping when Ryan turned and glared at her.

"Unpersons here. Non-men. Just home-keep and breed. Or whores. Them two whores?" he asked, interested in both Krysty's striking red hair and Lori's long blond tresses.

"No. They're both... home-keeps. Can we go now?"

"Sure. Registration'll follow later. Go to corner of Fourth an' Sissy — that's the main street in the ville. Red building called Outworlders' Dorm. Don't leave there till you're told."

No other outworlders were in town just then, so they had the spotlessly clean building with eating hall and dormitories to themselves. Doc and Lori went into a small room with three beds, as did Ryan and Krysty. The others shared a room with six beds, overlooking Sissy Street.

An old man, apparently the janitor, seemed delighted to have seven visitors all at once. He wore a smart uniform of dark green, with silver piping around the lapels and down the sides of his pants. His gray hair was neatly combed, and he was clean-shaven.

"Lucky to be here in Ginnsburg Falls, folks," he said, speaking to the men but treating the two women as though they were invisible. "There's to be a stoning at dusk. Haven't had one o' them in weeks."

"What's a stoning?"

"Stoning, Mr. Cawdor, is what the name suggests. Those that crosses the laws here in the ville has to pay the price. Walk the line and you'll be fine."

"Stoned to death? Who by? What for?" Krysty Wroth asked.

The janitor ignored her. "Couple been caught in adultery tonight. Down the quarry. Follow Seventh to the edge of the lake and walk up the lane to the left. Mercy me! Why tell you that? Just follow the whole town and you'll see it for yourself." He hesitated. "Being outworlders, you won't know all the lines to walk, Mr. Cawdor. But home-keeps aren't allowed. Be trouble if they left here."

"Thank you," Ryan said. "We'll all take care to walk the line."