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It was a box…like machine with a pistol grip on the side。 Jason clutched the grip and rested his elbow on a metal ioop。 Brucco fixed pointers that touched his arm； then copied the results from the meters。 Reading the figures from his list； he selected various ponents from bins and quickly assembled a power holster and gun。 With the holster strapped to his forearm and the gun in his hand； Jason noticed for the first time they were connected by a flexible cable。 The gun fitted his hand perfectly。
〃This is the secret of the power holster；〃 Bnicco said； tapping the flexible cable。 〃It is perfectly loose while you are using the weapon。 But when you want it returned to the holster…〃 Brucco made an adjustment and the cable became a stiff rod that whipped the gun from Jason's hand and suspended it in midair。
〃Then the return。〃 The rod cable whirred and snapped the gun back into the holster。 〃The drawing action is the opposite of this； of course。〃
〃A great gadget；〃 Jason said。 〃But how do I draw？ Do I whistle or something for the gun to pop out？〃
〃No； it is not sonic control；〃 Brucco answered with a sober face。 〃It is much more precise than that。 Here； take your left hand and grasp an imaginary gunbutt。 Tense your trigger finger。 Do you notice the pattern of the tendons in the wrist？ Sensitive actuators touch the tendons in your right wrist。 They ignore all patterns except the one that says hand ready to receive gun。 After a time the mechanism bees pletely automatic。 When you want the gun； it is in your hand。 When you don't； it is in the holster。〃
Jason made grasping motions with his right hand； crooked his index finger。 There was a sudden； smashing pain against his hand and a loud roar。 The gun was in his hand…half the fingers were numb…and smoke curled up from the barrel。
〃Of course； there are only blank charges in the gun until you learn control。 Guns are always loaded。 There is no safety。 Notice the lack of a trigger guard。 That enables you to bend your trigger finger a slight bit more when drawing so the gun will fire the instant it touches your hand。〃
It was without doubt the most murderous weapon Jason had ever handled； as well as being the hardest to manage。 Working against the muscle burning ache of high gravity； he fought to control the devilish device。 It had an infuriating way of vanishing into the holster just as he was about to pull the trigger。 Even worse was the tendency to leap out before he was quite ready。 The gun went to the position where his hand should be。 If the fingers weren't correctly placed； they were crashed aside。 Jason only stopped the practice when his entire hand was one livid bruise。
plete mastery would e with time； but he could already understand why the Pyrrans never removed their guns。 It would be like removing a part of your own body。 The movement of gun from holster to hand was too fast for him to detect。 It was certainly faster than the neural current that shaped the hand into the gun…holding position。 For all apparent purposes it was like having a lightning bolt in your fingertip。 Point the finger and blainm； there's the explosion。
Brucco had left Jason to practice alone。 When his aching hand could take no more； he stopped and headed back toward his own quarters。 Turning a corner； he had a quick glimpse of a familiar figure going away from him。
〃Meta！ Wait for a second！ I want to talk to you。〃
She turned impatiently as he shuffled up； going as fast as he could in the doubled gravity。 Everything about her seemed different from the girl he had known on the ship。 Heavy boots came as high as her knees； her figure was lost in bulky coveralls of some metallic fabric。 The
trim waist was bulged out by a belt of cannisters。 Her very expression was coldly distant。
〃I've missed you；〃 he said。 〃I hadn't realized you~ were in this building。〃 He reached for her hand but she moved it out of his reach。
〃What is it you want？〃 she asked。
〃What is it I want！〃 he echoed with barely concealed anger。 〃This is Jason； remember me？ We're friends。 It is allowed for friends to talk without 'wanting' anything。〃
〃What happened on the ship has nothing to do with what happens on Pyrrus。〃 She started forward impatiently as she talked。 〃I have finished my reconditioning and must return to work You'll be staying here in the sealed buildings so I won't be seeing you。〃
〃Why don't you say with the rest of the children…that's what your tone implies。 And don't try walking out； there are some things we have to settle first…〃
Jason made the mistake of putting out his hand to stop her。 He didn't really know what happened next。 One instant he was standing…the next he sprawled suddenly on the floor。 His shoulder was badly bruised； and Mete had vanished down the corridor。
Limping back to his own room； he muttered curses under his breath。 Dropping onto his rock…hard bed； he tried to remember the reasons that had brought him here in the first place。 And weighed them against the perpetual torture of the gravity； the fear…filled dreams it inspired； the automatic contempt of these people for any outsider。 He quickly checked the growing tendency to feel sorry for himself。 By Pyrran standards； he was soft and helpless。 If he wanted them to think any better of him； he would have to change a good deal。
He sank into a fatigue…drugged sleep then； that was broken only by the screaming fear of his dreams。
7
In the morning； Jason awoke with a bad headache and the feeling he had never been to sleep。 As he took some of the carefully portioned stimulants that Brucco had given him； he wondered again about the bination of factors that filled his sleep with such horror。
〃Eat quickly；〃 Brucco told him when they met in the dining room。 〃I can no longer spare you time for individual instruction。 You will join the regular classes and take the prescribed courses。 Only e to me if there is some special problem that the instructors or trainers can't handle。〃
The classes； as Jason should have expected； were posed of sternfaced little children。 With their pact bodies and no…nonsense mannerisms； they were recognizably Pyrran。 But they were still children enough to consider it very funny to have an adult in their classes。 Jammed behind one of the tiny desks； the redfaced Jason did not think it was much of a joke。
All resemblance to a normal school ended with the physical form of the classroom。 For one thing； every child…no matter how small…packed a gun。 And the courses were all involved with survival。 The only possible grade in a curriculum like this was roe per cent and students stayed with a lesson until they had mastered it perfectly。 No courses were offered in the normal scholastic subjects。 Presumably these were studied after the child graduated survival school and could face the world alone。 Which was a logical and coldblooded way of looking at things。 In fact； logical and coldblooded could describe any Pyrran activity。
Most of the morning was spent on the operation of one of the medikits that strapped around the waist。 This was an infection and poison analyzer that was pressed over a puncture wound。 If any toxins were present； the antidote was automatically injected on the site。 Simple in operation but incredibly plex in construction。 Since all Pyrrans serviced their own equipment…you could then only blame yourself if it failed…they had to learn the construction and repair of all the devices。
Jason did much better than the child students； though the effort exhausted him。
In the afternoon； he had his first experience with a training machine。 His instructor was a twelve…year…old boy； wHose cold voice didn'tconceal his contempt for the soft off …worlder。
〃All the training machines are physical duplicates of the real surface of the planet； corrected constantly as the life forms change。 The only difference between them is the varying degree of deadliness。 This first machine you will use is of course the one infants are put into…〃
〃You're too kind；〃 Jason murmured。 〃Your flattery overwhelms me。〃 The instructor continued； taking no notice of the interruption。
〃…infants are put into it as soon as they can crawl。 It is real in substance； though pletely deactivated。〃
Training machine was the wrong word； Jason realized as they entered through the thick door。 This was a chunk of the outside world duplicated in an immense chamber。 It took very little suspension of reality for him to forget the painted ceiling and artificial sun high above and imagine himself outdoors at last。 The scene seemed peaceful enough。 Though clouds banking on the horizon threatened a violent Pyrran storm。
〃You must wander around and examine things；〃 the instructor told Jason。 〃Whenever you touch something with your hand； you will be told about it。 Like this。 。 。〃
The boy bent over and pushed his finger against a blade of the soft grass that covered the ground。 Immediately a voice barked from hidden speakers。
〃Poison grass。 Boots to be worn at all times。〃
Jason kneeled and examined the grass。 The blade was tipped with a hard； shiny hook。 He realized with a start that every single blade of grass was the same。 The soft green lawn was a carpet of death。 As he straightened up；