"Lock down, fore and aft," Brad intoned. "Safety check mooring beams and vital connections. Secure all internal hatches and passages. Set environment controls at minimal levels for an indefinite stay. Report." He keyed the order into the log, added the time of entry, and keyed the record closed using his suspended Space Master's code. Myra assembled records required by port officials. Hodak and Adari consulted checklists as they trooped from one compartment to the next; Hodak opened and closed switches, turned wheels and secured and sealed valves as Adari observed and verified. She surveyed each station, mumbled, "confirmed," and initialed the appropriate items on her copy of the checklist. Zolan closed down the deep space communications system and inspected their suit's intercoms. Kumiko drew six handguns from a rack, checked firing controls and charges, and fitted the weapons to suits. Zolan called for a taxi. ## "Lock-sealing the effective range on personal weapons is the first order of business for all newcomers." The officious clerk in the Port Registration Office was skinny, short, stooped and sallow; and he squinted as if he had just emerged from darkness into glare. The deep wrinkles around his mouth twitched from cast-iron grin to scowl and back as he pointed from Brad's holster to the waist-high counter that separated them. Brad drew his sidearm, checked the safety and set it on the counter. His companions followed suit. The clerk hefted each weapon in turn, double-checked the safety, and positioned it under a penetray scanner to check for illegal modifications and, using a hand-held standard, reset the range to Coldfield's limits. "Five meters, max," he said as he worked, "and minimum-effect level at all times. Set it any way you want when you leave the dome, but reset it as soon as you come back in. We do the first one for the record; after that it's up to you. Penalty for violation depends on circumstances; minimum is a couple of sleeps in the brig." He peered at them across the counter. "We know who you are and where you came from," he said. "Keep out of trouble and you'll get by OK." As he finished each weapon inspection he returned it to the countertop, pointing the muzzle into a shielded enclosure and stepped back behind a barrier. The owner picked up the sidearm, rechecked the safety and the setting, and slipped it back into its sheath. "Hope you were listening when I said we know who you are," said the clerk, scowling, looking from one to the other. "If you didn't hear me the first time, I'll repeat it: keep out of trouble and you'll get by OK. Y'hear?" Brad scowled back, silent. Hodak grinned; Myra and Kumiko nodded and vigorously pointed at themselves. "I hate trouble," Myra said with solemn sincerity. "Me too," Kumiko chimed in. "I hate trouble. I really do." Adari laughed, leaned over the counter, and rumpled the little man's scant hair. He jerked away. "Wouldn't think of it, Buster," she boomed.