[Illustration]

DEATHWORLD

BY HARRY HARRISON

Illustrated by van Dongen

 _Some planet in the galaxy must--by definition--be the toughest, meanest, nastiest of all. If Pyrrus wasn't it . . . It was an awfully good approximation!_

Jason dinAlt sprawled in soft luxury on the couch, a large frosty steinheld limply in one hand. His other hand rested casually on a pillow. Thegun behind the pillow was within easy reach of his fingers. In his lineof work he never took chances. 

It was all highly suspicious. Jason didn't know a soul on this planet. Yet the card sent by service tube from the hotel desk had read: _KerkPyrrus would like to see Jason dinAlt_. Blunt and to the point. Hesignaled the desk to send the man up, then lowered his fingers a bituntil they brushed the gun butt. The door slid open and his visitorstepped through. 

_A retired wrestler. _ That was Jason's first thought. Kerk Pyrrus was agray-haired rock of a man. His body seemingly chiseled out of flat slabsof muscle. Then Jason saw the gun strapped to the inside of the otherman's forearm, and he let his fingers drop casually behind the pillow. 

"I'd appreciate it, " Jason said, "if you'd take off your gun whileyou're in here. " The other man stopped and scowled down at the gun as ifhe was seeing it for the first time. 

"No, I never take it off. " He seemed mildly annoyed by the suggestion. 

Jason had his fingers on his own gun when he said, "I'm afraid I'll haveto insist. I always feel a little uncomfortable around people who wearguns. " He kept talking to distract attention while he pulled out hisgun. Fast and smooth. 

He could have been moving in slow motion for all the difference it made. Kerk Pyrrus stood rock still while the gun came out, while it swung inhis direction. Not until the very last instant did he act. When he did, the motion wasn't visible. First his gun was in the arm holster--then itwas aimed between Jason's eyes. It was an ugly, heavy weapon with apitted front orifice that showed plenty of use. 

And Jason knew if he swung his own weapon up a fraction of an inch morehe would be dead. He dropped his arm carefully and Kerk flipped his owngun back in the holster with the same ease he had drawn it. 

"Now, " the stranger said, "if we're through playing, let's get down tobusiness. I have a proposition for you. "

Jason downed a large mouthful from the mug and bridled his temper. Hewas fast with a gun--his life had depended on it more than once--andthis was the first time he had been outdrawn. It was the offhand, unimportant manner it had been done that irritated him. 

"I'm not prepared to do business, " he said acidly. "I've come toCassylia for a vacation, get away from work. "

"Let's not fool each other, dinAlt, " Kerk said impatiently. "You'venever worked at an honest job in your entire life. You're a professionalgambler and that's why I'm here to see you. "

Jason forced down his anger and threw the gun to the other end of thecouch so he wouldn't be tempted to commit suicide. He _had_ hoped noone knew him on Cassylia and was looking forward to a big kill at theCasino. He would worry about that later. This weight-lifter type seemedto know all the answers. Let him plot the course for a while and seewhere it led. 

"All right, what do you want?"

 * * * * *

Kerk dropped into a chair that creaked ominously under his weight, anddug an envelope out of one pocket. He flipped through it quickly anddropped a handful of gleaming Galactic Exchange notes onto the table. Jason glanced at them--then sat up suddenly. 

"What are they--forgeries?" he asked, holding one up to the light. 

"They're real enough, " Kerk told him, "I picked them up at the bank. Exactly twenty-seven bills--or twenty-seven million credits. I want youto use them as a bankroll when you go to the Casino tonight. Gamble withthem and win. "

They looked real enough--and they could be checked. Jason fingered themthoughtfully while he examined the other man. 

"I don't know what you have in mind, " he said. "But you realize I can'tmake any guarantees. I gamble--but I don't always win . . . "

"You gamble--and you win when you want to, " Kerk said grimly. "We lookedinto that quite carefully before I came to you. "

"If you mean to say that I cheat--" Carefully, Jason grabbed his temperagain and held it down. There was no future in getting annoyed. 

Kerk continued in the same level voice, ignoring Jason's growing anger. "Maybe you don't call it cheating, frankly I don't care. As far as I'mconcerned you could have your suit lined with aces and electromagnets inyour boots. As long as you _won_. I'm not here to discuss moral pointswith you. I said I had a proposition. 

"We have worked hard for that money--but it still isn't enough. To beprecise, we need three billion credits. The only way to get that sum isby gambling--with these twenty-seven million as bankroll. "

"And what do I get out of it?" Jason asked the question coolly, as ifany bit of the fantastic proposition made sense. 

"Everything above the three billion you can keep, that should be fairenough. You're not risking your own money, but you stand to make enoughto keep you for life if you win. "

"And if I lose--?"

Kerk thought for a moment, not liking the taste of the idea. "Yes--thereis the chance you might lose, I hadn't thought about that. "

He reached a decision. "If you lose--well I suppose that is just a riskwe will have to take. Though I think I would kill you then. The ones whodied to get the twenty-seven million deserve at least that. " He said itquietly, without malice, and it was more of a promise than a threat. 

Stamping to his feet Jason refilled his stein and offered one to Kerkwho took it with a nod of thanks. He paced back and forth, unable tosit. The whole proposition made him angry--yet at the same time had afatal fascination. He was a gambler and this talk was like the taste ofdrugs to an addict. 

Stopping suddenly, he realized that his mind had been made up for sometime. Win or lose--live or die--how could he say no to the chance togamble with money like that! He turned suddenly and jabbed his finger atthe big man in the chair. 

"I'll do it--you probably knew I would from the time you came in here. There are some terms of my own, though. I want to know who you are, andwho _they_ are you keep talking about. And where did the money comefrom. Is it stolen?"

Kerk drained his own stein and pushed it away from him. 

"Stolen money? No, quite the opposite. Two years' work mining andrefining ore to get it. It was mined on Pyrrus and sold here onCassylia. You can check on that very easily. I sold it. I'm the Pyrricambassador to this planet. " He smiled at the thought. "Not that thatmeans much, I'm ambassador to at least six other planets as well. Comesin handy when you want to do business. "

Jason looked at the muscular man with his gray hair and worn, military-cut clothes, and decided not to laugh. You heard of strangethings out in the frontier planets and every word could be true. He hadnever heard of Pyrrus either, though that didn't mean anything. Therewere over thirty-thousand known planets in the inhabited universe. 

"I'll check on what you have told me, " Jason said. "If it's true, we cando business. Call me tomorrow--"

"No, " Kerk said. "The money has to be won tonight. I've already issued acheck for this twenty-seven million, it will bounce as high as thePleiades unless we deposit the money in the morning, so that's our timelimit. "

With each moment the whole affair became more fantastic--and moreintriguing for Jason. He looked at his watch. There was still enoughtime to find out if Kerk was lying or not. 

"All right, we'll do it tonight, " he said. "Only I'll have to have oneof those bills to check. "

Kerk stood up to go. "Take them all, I won't be seeing you again untilafter you've won. I'll be at the Casino of course, but don't recognizeme. It would be much better if they didn't know where your money wascoming from or how much you had. "

Then he was gone, after a bone-crushing handclasp that closed on Jason'shand like vise jaws. Jason was alone with the money. Fanning the billsout like a hand of cards he stared at their sepia and gold faces, tryingto get the reality through his head. Twenty-seven million credits. Whatwas to stop him from just walking out the door with them and vanishing. Nothing really, except his own sense of honor. 

Kerk Pyrrus, the man with the same last name as the planet he camefrom, was the universe's biggest fool. Or he knew just what he wasdoing. From the way the interview had gone the latter seemed the betterbet. 

"He _knows_ I would much rather gamble with the money than steal it, " hesaid wryly. 

Slipping a small gun into his waistband holster and pocketing the moneyhe went out. 

II. 

The robot teller at the bank just pinged with electronic shock when hepresented one of the bills and flashed a panel that directed him to seeVice President Wain. Wain was a smooth customer who bugged his eyes andlost some of his tan when he saw the sheaf of bills. 

"You . . . Wish to deposit these with us?" he asked while his fingersunconsciously stroked them. 

"Not today, " Jason said. "They were paid to me as a debt. Would youplease check that they are authentic and change them? I'd like fivehundred thousand credit notes. "

Both of his inner chest pockets were packed tight when he left the bank. The bills were good and he felt like a walking mint. This was the firsttime in his entire life that carrying a large sum of money made himuncomfortable. Waving to a passing helicab he went directly to theCasino, where he knew he would be safe--for a while. 

Cassylia Casino was the playspot of the nearby cluster of star systems. It was the first time Jason had seen it, though he knew its type well. He had spent most of his adult life in casinos like this on otherworlds. The decor differed but they were always the same. Gambling andsocialities in public--and behind the scenes all the private vice youcould afford. Theoretically no-limit games, but that was true only up toa certain point. When the house was really hurt the honest games stoppedbeing square and the big winner had to watch his step very carefully. These were the odds Jason dinAlt had played against countless timesbefore. He was wary but not very concerned. 

The dining room was almost empty and the major-domo quickly rushed tothe side of the relaxed stranger in the richly cut clothes. Jason waslean and dark, looking more like the bored scion of some rich familythan a professional gambler. This appearance was important and hecultivated it. The cuisine looked good and the cellar turned out to bewonderful. He had a professional talk with the sommelier while waitingfor the soup, then settled down to enjoy his meal. 

He ate leisurely and the large dining room was filled before he wasthrough. Watching the entertainment over a long cigar killed some moretime. When he finally went to the gaming rooms they were filled andactive. 

Moving slowly around the room he dropped a few thousand credits. Hescarcely noticed how he played, giving more attention to the feel of thegames. The play all seemed honest and none of the equipment was rigged. That could be changed very quickly, he realized. Usually it wasn'tnecessary, house percentage was enough to assure a profit. 

Once he saw Kerk out of the corner of his eye but he paid him noattention. The ambassador was losing small sums steadily atseven-and-silver and seemed to be impatient. Probably waiting for Jasonto begin playing seriously. He smiled and strolled on slowly. 

Jason settled on the dice table as he usually did. It was the surest wayto make small winnings. _And if I feel it tonight I can clean thiscasino out!_ That was his secret, the power that won for himsteadily--and every once in a while enabled him to make a killing andmove on quickly before the hired thugs came to get the money back. 

 * * * * *

The dice reached him and he threw an eight the hard way. Betting waslight and he didn't push himself, just kept away from the sevens. Hemade the point and passed a natural. Then he crapped out and the dicemoved on. 

Sitting there, making small automatic bets while the dice went aroundthe table, he thought about the power. _Funny, after all the years ofwork we still don't know much about_ psi. _They can train people a bit, and improve skills a bit--but that's all. _

He was feeling strong tonight, he knew that the money in his pocket gavehim the extra lift that sometimes helped him break through. With hiseyes half closed he picked up the dice--and let his mind gently caressthe pattern of sunken dots. Then they shot out of his hand and he staredat a seven. 

It was there. 

Stronger than he had felt it in years. The stiff weight of thosemillion-credit notes had done it. The world all around was sharp-cutclear and the dice was completely in his control. He knew to thetenth-credit how much the other players had in their wallets and wasaware of the cards in the hands of the players behind him. 

Slowly, carefully, he built up the stakes. 

There was no effort to the dice, they rolled and sat up like traineddogs. Jason took his time and concentrated on the psychology of theplayers and the stick man. It took almost two hours to build his moneyon the table to seven hundred thousand credits. Then he caught the stickman signaling they had a heavy winner. He waited until the hard-eyed manstrolled over to watch the game, then he smiled happily, bet all histable stakes--and blew it on one roll of the dice. The house man smiledhappily, the stick man relaxed--and out of the corner of his eye Jasonsaw Kerk turning a dark purple. 

Sweating, pale, his hand trembling ever so slightly, Jason opened thefront of his jacket and pulled out one of the envelopes of new bills. Breaking the seal with his finger he dropped two of them on the table. 

"Could we have a no-limit game?" he asked, "I'd like to--win back someof my money. "

The stick man had trouble controlling his smile now, he glanced acrossat the house man who nodded a quick _yes_. They had a sucker and theymeant to clean him. He had been playing from his wallet all evening, nowhe was cracking into a sealed envelope to try for what he had lost. Athick envelope too, and probably not his money. Not that the house caredin the least. To them money had no loyalties. The play went on with theCasino in a very relaxed mood. 

Which was just the way Jason wanted it. He needed to get as deep intothem as he could before someone realized _they_ might be on the losingend. The rough stuff would start and he wanted to put it off as long aspossible. It would be hard to win smoothly then--and his _psi_ powermight go as quickly as it had come. That had happened before. 

He was playing against the house now, the two other players were obviousshills, and a crowd had jammed solidly around to watch. After losing andwinning a bit he hit a streak of naturals and his pile of gold chipstottered higher and higher. There was nearly a billion there, heestimated roughly. The dice were still falling true, though he wassoaked with sweat from the effort. Betting the entire stack of chips hereached for the dice. The stick man reached faster and hooked them away. 

"House calls for new dice, " he said flatly. 

Jason straightened up and wiped his hands, glad of the instant's relief. This was the third time the house had changed dice to try and break hiswinning streak, it was their privilege. The hard-eyed Casino man openedhis wallet as he had done before and drew out a pair at random. Stripping off their plastic cover he threw them the length of the tableto Jason. They came up a natural seven and Jason smiled. 

When he scooped them up the smile slowly faded. The dice weretransparent, finely made, evenly weighted on all sides--and crooked. 

The pigment on the dots of five sides of each die was some heavy metalcompound, probably lead. The sixth side was a ferrous compound. Theywould roll true unless they hit a magnetic field--that meant the entiresurface of the table could be magnetized. He could never have spottedthe difference if he hadn't _looked_ at the dice with his mind. But whatcould he do about it?

Shaking them slowly he glanced quickly around the table. There was whathe needed. An ashtray with a magnet in its base to hold it to the metaledge of the table. Jason stopped shaking the dice and looked at themquizzically, then reached over and grabbed the ashtray. He dropped thebase against his hand. 

As he lifted the ashtray there was a concerted gasp from all sides. Thedice were sticking there, upside down, box cars showing. 

"Are these what you call honest dice?" he asked. 

The man who had thrown out the dice reached quickly for his hip pocket. Jason was the only one who saw what happened next. He was watching thathand closely, his own fingers near his gun butt. As the man dived intohis pocket a hand reached out of the crowd behind him. From itssquare-cut size it could have belonged to only one person. The thickthumb and index finger clamped swiftly around the house man's wrist, then they were gone. The man screamed shrilly and held up his arm, hishand dangling limp as a glove from the broken wrist bones. 

 * * * * *

With his flank well protected, Jason could go on with the game. "The olddice if you don't mind, " he said quietly. 

Dazedly the stick man pushed them over. Jason shook quickly and rolled. Before they hit the table he realized he couldn't control them--thetransient _psi_ power had gone. 

End over end they turned. And faced up seven. 

Counting the chips as they were pushed over to him he added up a bitunder two billion credits. They would be winning that much if he leftthe game now--but it wasn't the three billion that Kerk needed. Well, itwould have to be enough. As he reached for the chips he caught Kerk'seye across the table and the other man shook his head in a steady _no_. 

"Let it ride, " Jason said wearily, "one more roll. "

He breathed on the dice, polished them on his cuff, and wondered how hehad ever gotten into this spot. Billions riding on a pair of dice. Thatwas as much as the annual income of some planets. The only reason there_could_ be stakes like that was because the planetary government had astake in the Casino. He shook as long as he could, reaching for thecontrol that wasn't there--then let fly. 

Everything else had stopped in the Casino and people were standing ontables and chairs to watch. There wasn't a sound from that large crowd. The dice bounced back from the board with a clatter loud in the silenceand tumbled over the cloth. 

A five and a one. Six. He still had to make his point. Scooping up thedice Jason talked to them, mumbled the ancient oaths that brought luckand threw again. 

It took five throws before he made the six. 

The crowd echoed his sigh and their voices rose quickly. He wanted tostop, take a deep breath, but he knew he couldn't. Winning the money wasonly part of the job--they now had to get away with it. It had to lookcasual. A waiter was passing with a tray of drinks. Jason stopped himand tucked a hundred-credit note in his pocket. 

"Drinks are on me, " he shouted while he pried the tray out of thewaiter's hands. Well-wishers cleared the filled glasses away quickly andJason piled the chips onto the tray. They more than loaded it, but Kerkappeared that moment with a second tray. 

"I'll be glad to help you, sir, if you will permit me, " he said. 

Jason looked at him, and laughed permission. It was the first time hehad a clear look at Kerk in the Casino. He was wearing loose, purpleevening pajamas over what must have been a false stomach. The sleeveswere long and baggy so he looked fat rather than muscular. It was asimple but effective disguise. 

[Illustration]

Carefully carrying the loaded trays, surrounded by a crowd of excitedpatrons, they made their way to the cashier's window. The managerhimself was there, wearing a sickly grin. Even the grin faded when hecounted the chips. 

"Could you come back in the morning, " he said, "I'm afraid we don't havethat kind of money on hand. "

"What's the matter, " Kerk shouted, "trying to get out of paying him? Youtook _my_ money easy enough when I lost--it works both ways!"

The onlookers, always happy to see the house lose, growled theirdisagreement. Jason finished the matter in a loud voice. 

"I'll be reasonable, give me what cash you have and I'll take a checkfor the balance. "

There was no way out. Under the watchful eye of the gleeful crowd themanager packed an envelope with bills and wrote a check. Jason took aquick glimpse at it, then stuffed it into an inside pocket. With theenvelope under one arm he followed Kerk towards the door. 

Because of the onlookers there was no trouble in the main room, but justas they reached the side entrance two men moved in, blocking the way. 

"Just a moment--" one said. He never finished the sentence. Kerk walkedinto them without slowing and they bounced away like tenpins. Then Kerkand Jason were out of the building and walking fast. 

"Into the parking lot, " Kerk said. "I have a car there. "

When they rounded the corner there was a car bearing down on them. Before Jason could get his gun clear of the holster Kerk was in front ofhim. His arm came up and his big ugly gun burst through the cloth of hissleeve and jumped into his hand. A single shot killed the driver and thecar swerved and crashed. The other two men in the car died coming out ofthe door, their guns dropping from their hands. 

After that they had no trouble. Kerk drove at top speed away from theCasino, the torn sleeve of his pajamas whipping in the breeze, givingglimpses of the big gun back in the holster. 

"When you get the chance, " Jason said, "you'll have to show me how thattrick holster works. "

"When we get the chance, " Kerk answered as he dived the car into thecity access tube. 

III. 

The building they stopped at was one of the finer residences inCassylia. As they had driven, Jason counted the money and separated hisshare. Almost sixteen million credits. It still didn't seem quite real. When they got out in front of the building he gave Kerk the rest. 

"Here's your three billion, don't think it was easy, " he said. 

"It could have been worse, " was his only answer. 

The recorded voice scratched in the speaker over the door. 

"Sire Ellus has retired for the night, would you please call again inthe morning. All appointments are made in advan--"

The voice broke off as Kerk pushed the door open. He did it almosteffortlessly with the flat of his hand. As they went in Jason looked atthe remnants of torn and twisted metal that hung in the lock andwondered again about his companion. 

_Strength--more than physical strength--he's like an elemental force. Ihave the feeling that nothing can stop him. _

It made him angry--and at the same time fascinated him. He didn't wantout of the deal until he found out more about Kerk and his planet. And"they" who had died for the money he gambled. 

Sire Ellus was old, balding and angry, not at all used to having hisrest disturbed. His complaints stopped suddenly when Kerk threw themoney down on the table. 

"Is the ship being loaded yet, Ellus? Here's the balance due. " Ellusonly fumbled the bills for a moment before he could answer Kerk'squestion. 

"The ship--but, of course. We began loading when you gave us thedeposit. You'll have to excuse my confusion, this is a little irregular. We never handle transactions of this size in cash. "

"That's the way I like to do business, " Kerk answered him, "I'vecanceled the deposit, this is the total sum. Now how about a receipt. "

Ellus had made out the receipt before his senses returned. He held ittightly while he looked uncomfortably at the three billion spread outbefore him. 

"Wait--I can't take it now, you'll have to return in the morning, to thebank. In normal business fashion, " Ellus decided firmly. 

Kerk reached over and gently drew the paper out of Ellus' hand. 

"Thanks for the receipt, " he said. "I won't be here in the morning sothis will be satisfactory. And if you're worried about the money Isuggest you get in touch with some of your plant guards or privatepolice. You'll feel a lot safer. "

When they left through the shattered door Ellus was frantically dialingnumbers on his screen. Kerk answered Jason's next question before hecould ask it. 

"I imagine you would like to live to spend that money in your pocket, soI've booked two seats on an interplanetary ship, " he glanced at the carclock. "It leaves in about two hours so we have plenty of time. I'mhungry, let's find a restaurant. I hope you have nothing at the hotelworth going back for. It would be a little difficult. "

"Nothing worth getting killed for, " Jason said. "Now where can we go toeat--there are a few questions I would like to ask you. "

 * * * * *

They circled carefully down to the transport levels until they were surethey hadn't been followed. Kerk nosed the car into a darkened loadingdock where they abandoned it. 

"We can always get another car, " he said, "and they probably have thisone spotted. Let's walk back to the freightway, I saw a restaurant thereas we came by. "

Dark and looming shapes of overland freight carriers filled the parkinglot. They picked their way around the man-high wheels and into the hotand noisy restaurant. The drivers and early morning workers took nonotice of them as they found a booth in the back and dialed a meal. 

Kerk chiseled a chunk of meat off the slab in front of him and popped itcheerfully into his mouth. "Ask your questions, " he said. "I'm feelingmuch better already. "

"What's in this ship you arranged for tonight--what kind of a cargo wasI risking my neck for?"

"I thought you were risking your neck for money, " Kerk said dryly. "Butbe assured it was in a good cause. That cargo means the survival of aworld. Guns, ammunition, mines, explosives and such. "

Jason choked over a mouthful of food. "Gun-running! What are you doing, financing a private war? And how can you talk about survival with alethal cargo like that? Don't try and tell me they have a peaceful use. Who are you killing?"

Most of the big man's humor had vanished, he had that grim look Jasonknew well. 

"Yes, peaceful would be the right word. Because that is basically all wewant. Just to live in peace. And it is not _who_ are we killing--it is_what_ we are killing. "

Jason pushed his plate away with an angry gesture. "You're talking inriddles, " he said. "What you say has no meaning. "

"It has meaning enough, " Kerk told him, "but only on one planet in theuniverse. Just how much do you know about Pyrrus?"

"Absolutely nothing. "

For a moment Kerk sat wrapped in memory, scowling distantly. Then hewent on. 

"Mankind doesn't belong on Pyrrus--yet has been there for almost threehundred years now. The age expectancy of my people is sixteen years. Ofcourse most adults live beyond that, but the high child mortality bringsthe average down. 

"It is everything that a humanoid world should not be. The gravity isnearly twice Earth normal. The temperature can vary daily from arctic totropic. The climate--well you have to experience it to believe it. Likenothing you've seen anywhere else in the galaxy. "

"I'm frightened, " Jason said dryly. "What do you have--methane orchlorine reactions? I've been down on planets like that--"

 * * * * *

Kerk slammed his hand down hard on the table. The dishes bounced and thetable legs creaked. "Laboratory reactions!" he growled. "They look greaton a bench--but what happens when you have a world filled with thosecompounds? In an eye-wink of galactic time all the violence is locked upin nice, stable compounds. The atmosphere may be poisonous for an oxygenbreather, but taken by itself it's as harmless as weak beer. 

"There is only one setup that is pure poison as a planetary atmosphere. Plenty of H{2}O, the most universal solvent you can find, plus freeoxygen to work on--"

"Water and oxygen!" Jason broke in. "You mean Earth--or a planet likeCassylia here? That's preposterous. "

"Not at all. Because you were born in this kind of environment youaccept it as right and natural. You take it for granted that metalscorrode, coastlines change, and storms interfere with communication. These are normal occurrences on oxygen-water worlds. On Pyrrus theseconditions are carried to the nth degree. 

"The planet has an axial tilt of almost forty-two degrees, so there is atremendous change in temperature from season to season. This is one ofthe prime causes of a constantly changing icecap. The weather generatedby this is spectacular to say the least. "

"If that's all, " Jason said, "I don't see why--"

"That's _not_ all--it's barely the beginning. The open seas perform thedual destructive function of supplying water vapor to keep the weathergoing, and building up gigantic tides. Pyrrus' two satellites, Samas andBessos, combine at times to pull the oceans up into thirty meter tides. And until you've seen one of these tides lap over into an active volcanoyou've seen nothing. 

"Heavy elements are what brought us to Pyrrus--and these same elementskeep the planet at a volcanic boil. There have been at least thirteensuper-novas in the immediate stellar neighborhood. Heavy elements can befound on most of their planets of course--as well as completelyunbreathable atmospheres. Long-term mining and exploitation can't bedone by anything but a self-sustaining colony. Which meant Pyrrus. Wherethe radioactive elements are locked in the planetary core, surrounded bya shell of lighter ones. While this allows for the atmosphere men need, it also provides unceasing volcanic activity as the molten plasma forcesits way to the surface. "

For the first time Jason was silent. Trying to imagine what life couldbe like on a planet constantly at war with itself. 

"I've saved the best for last, " Kerk said with grim humor. "Now that youhave an idea of what the environment is like--think of the kind of lifeforms that would populate it. I doubt if there is one off-world speciesthat would live a minute. Plants and animals on Pyrrus are _tough_. Theyfight the world and they fight each other. Hundreds of thousands ofyears of genetic weeding-out have produced things that would give evenan electronic brain nightmares. Armor-plated, poisonous, claw-tipped andfanged-mouthed. That describes everything that walks, flaps or just sitsand grows. Ever see a plant with teeth--that bite? I don't think youwant to. You'd have to be on Pyrrus and that means you would be deadwithin seconds of leaving the ship. Even I'll have to take a refreshercourse before I'll be able to go outside the landing buildings. Theunending war for survival keeps the life forms competing and changing. Death is simple, but the ways of dealing it too numerous to list. "

Unhappiness rode like a weight on Kerk's broad shoulders. After longmoments of thought he moved visibly to shake it off. Returning hisattention to his food and mopping the gravy from his plate, he voicedpart of his feelings. 

"I suppose there is no logical reason why we should stay and fight thisendless war. Except that Pyrrus is our home. " The last piece ofgravy-soaked bread vanished and he waved the empty fork at Jason. 

"Be happy you're an off-worlder and will never have to see it. "

"That's where you're wrong. " Jason said as calmly as he could. "You see, I'm going back with you. "

IV. 

"Don't talk stupidly, " Kerk said as he punched for a duplicate order ofsteak. "There are much simpler ways of committing suicide. Don't yourealize that you're a millionaire now? With what you have in your pocketyou can relax the rest of your life on the pleasure planets. Pyrrus is adeath world, not a sightseeing spot for jaded tourists. I cannot permityou to return with me. "

Gamblers who lose their tempers don't last long. Jason was angry now. Yet it showed only in a negative way. In the lack of expression on hisface and the calmness of his voice. 

"Don't tell me what I can or cannot do, Kerk Pyrrus. You're a big manwith a fast gun--but that doesn't make you my boss. All you can do isstop me from going back on your ship. But I can easily afford to getthere another way. And don't try to tell me I want to go to Pyrrus forsightseeing when you have no idea of my real reasons. "

Jason didn't even try to explain his reasons, they were only halfrealized and too personal. The more he traveled, the more things lookedthe same to him. The old, civilized planets sank into a drab similarity. Frontier worlds all had the crude sameness of temporary camps in aforest. Not that the galactic worlds bored him. It was just that he hadfound their limitations--yet had never found his own. Until he met Kerkhe had acknowledged no man his superior, or even his equal. This wasmore than egotism. It was facing facts. Now he was forced to face thefact that there was a whole world of people who might be superior tohim. Jason could never rest content until he had been there and seen forhimself. Even if he died in the attempt. 

None of this could be told to Kerk. There were other reasons he wouldunderstand better. 

"You're not thinking ahead when you prevent me from going to Pyrrus, "Jason said. "I'll not mention any moral debt you owe me for winning thatmoney you needed. But what about the next time? If you needed that muchlethal goods once, you'll probably need it again some day. Wouldn't itbe better to have me on hand--old tried and true--than dreaming up somenew and possibly unreliable scheme?"

Kerk chewed pensively on the second serving of steak. "That makes sense. And I must admit I hadn't thought of it before. One failing we Pyrranshave is a lack of interest in the future. Staying alive day by day isenough trouble. So we tend to face emergencies as they arrive and letthe dim future take care of itself. You can come. I hope you will stillbe alive when we need you. As Pyrran ambassador to a lot of places Iofficially invite you to our planet. All expenses paid. On the conditionyou obey completely all our instructions regarding your personalsafety. "

"Conditions accepted, " Jason said. And wondered why he was so cheerfulabout signing his own death warrant. 

Kerk was shoveling his way through his third dessert when his alarmwatch gave a tiny hum. He dropped his fork instantly and stood up. "Timeto go, " he said. "We're on schedule now. " While Jason scrambled to hisfeet, he jammed coins into the meter until the _paid_ light came on. Then they were out the door and walking fast. 

Jason wasn't at all surprised when they came on a public escalator justbehind the restaurant. He was beginning to realize that since leavingthe Casino their every move had been carefully planned and timed. Without a doubt the alarm was out and the entire planet being searchedfor them. Yet so far they hadn't noticed the slightest sign of pursuit. This wasn't the first time Jason had to move just one jump ahead of theauthorities--but it was the first time he had let someone else lead himby the hand while he did it. He had to smile at his own automaticagreement. He had been a loner for so many years that he found a certaininverse pleasure in following someone else. 

"Hurry up, " Kerk growled after a quick glance at his watch. He set asteady, killing pace up the escalator steps. They went up five levelsthat way--without seeing another person--before Kerk relented and letthe escalator do the work. 

Jason prided himself on keeping in condition. But the sudden climb, after the sleepless night, left him panting heavily and soaked withsweat. Kerk, cool of forehead and breathing normally, didn't show theslightest sign that he had been running. 

They were at the second motor level when Kerk stepped off the slowlyrising steps and waved Jason after him. As they came through the exit tothe street a car pulled up to the curb in front of them. Jason hadenough sense not to reach for his gun. At the exact moment they reachedthe car the driver opened the door and stepped out. Kerk passed him aslip of paper without saying a word and slipped in behind the wheel. There was just time for Jason to jump in before the car pulled away. Theentire transfer had taken less than three seconds. 

There had been only a glimpse of the driver in the dim light, but Jasonhad recognized him. Of course he had never seen the man before, butafter knowing Kerk he couldn't mistake the compact strength of a nativePyrran. 

"That was the receipt from Ellus you gave him, " Jason said. 

"Of course. That takes care of the ship and the cargo. They'll beoff-planet and safely away before the casino check is traced to Ellus. So now let's look after ourselves. I'll explain the plan in detail sothere will be no slip-ups on your part. I'll go through the whole thingonce and if there are any questions you'll ask them when I'm finished. "

The tones of command were so automatic that Jason found himselflistening in quiet obedience. Though one part of his mind wanted him tosmile at the quick assumption of his incompetence. 

Kerk swung the car into the steady line of traffic heading out of thecity to the spaceport. He drove easily while he talked. 

"There is a search on in the city, but we're well ahead of that. I'msure the Cassylians don't want to advertise their bad sportsmanship sothere won't be anything as crude as a roadblock. But the port will becrawling with every agent they have. They know once the money getsoff-planet it is gone forever. When we make a break for it they will besure we still have the goods. So there will be no trouble with themunition ship getting clear. "

Jason sounded a little shocked. "You mean you're setting us up as claypigeons to cover the take-off of the ship. "

"You could put it that way. But since we have to get off-planet anyway, there is no harm in using our escape as a smokescreen. Now shut up untilI've finished, like I told you. One more interruption and I dump you bythe road. "

 * * * * *

Jason was sure he would. He listened intently--and quietly--as Kerkrepeated word for word what he had said before, then continued. 

"The official car gate will probably be wide open with the trafficthrough it. And a lot of the agents will be in plain clothes. We mighteven get onto the field without being recognized, though I doubt it. Itis of no importance. We will drive through the gate and to the take-offpad. The _Pride of Darkhan_, for which we hold tickets, will be soundingits two-minute siren and unhooking the gangway. By the time we get toour seats the ship will take off. "

"That's all very fine, " Jason said. "But what will the guards be doingall this time?"

"Shooting at us and each other. We will take advantage of the confusionto get aboard. "

This answer did nothing to settle Jason's mind, but he let it slide forthe moment. "All right--say we _do_ get aboard. Why don't they justprevent take-off until we have been dragged out and stood against awall?"

Kerk spared him a contemptuous glance before he returned his eyes to theroad. "I said the ship was the _Pride of Darkhan_. If you had studiedthis system at all, you would know what that means. Cassylia and Darkhanare sister planets and rivals in every way. It has been less than twocenturies since they fought an intra-system war that almost destroyedboth of them. Now they exist in an armed-to-the-teeth neutrality thatneither dare violate. The moment we set foot aboard the ship we are onDarkhan territory. There is no extradition agreement between theplanets. Cassylia may want us--but not badly enough to start anotherwar. "

That was all the explanation there was time for. Kerk swung the car outof the rush of traffic and onto a bridge marked _Official Cars Only_. Jason had a feeling of nakedness as they rolled under the harsh portlights towards the guarded gate ahead. 

It was closed. 

Another car approached the gate from the inside and Kerk slowed theircar to a crawl. One of the guards talked to the driver of the car insidethe port, then waved to the gate attendant. The barrier gate began toswing inwards and Kerk jammed down on the accelerator. 

Everything happened at once. The turbine howled, the spinning tiresscreeched on the road and the car crashed open the gate. Jason had avanishing glimpse of the open-mouthed guards, then they were skiddingaround the corner of a building. A few shots popped after them, but nonecame close. 

Driving with one hand, Kerk reached under the dash and pulled out a gunthat was the twin of the monster strapped to his arm. "Use this insteadof your own, " he said. "Rocket-propelled explosive slugs. Make a greatbang. Don't bother shooting at anyone--I'll take care of that. Just stirup a little action and make them keep their distance. Like this. "

He fired a single, snap-shot out the side window and passed the gun toJason almost before the slug hit. An empty truck blew up with a roar, raining pieces on the cars around and sending their drivers fleeing inpanic. 

After that it was a nightmare ride through a madhouse. Kerk drove withan apparent contempt for violent death. Other cars followed them andwere lost in wheel-raising turns. They careened almost the full lengthof the field, leaving a trail of smoking chaos. 

Then the pursuit was all behind them and the only thing ahead was theslim spire of the _Pride of Darkhan_. 

 * * * * *

The _Pride_ was surrounded by a strong wire fence as suited thebegrudged status of her planetary origin. The gate was closed andguarded by soldiers with leveled guns, waiting for a shot at theapproaching car. Kerk made no attempt to come near them. Instead he fedthe last reserves of power to the car and headed for the fence. "Coveryour face, " he shouted. 

Jason put his arms in front of his head just as they hit. 

Torn metal screamed, the fence buckled, wrapped itself around the car, but did not break. Jason flew off the seat and into the padded dash. Bythe time Kerk had the warped door open, he realized that the ride wasover. Kerk must have seen the spin of his eyeballs because he didn'ttalk, just pulled Jason out and threw him onto the hood of the ruinedcar. 

"Climb over the buckled wire and make a run for the ship, " he shouted. 

If there was any doubt what he meant, he set Jason an example of fineroadwork. It was inconceivable that someone of his bulk could run sofast, yet he did. He moved more like a charging tank than a man. Jasonshook the fog from his head and worked up some speed himself. Nevertheless, he was barely halfway to the ship when Kerk hit thegangway. It was already unhooked from the ship, but the shockedattendants stopped rolling it away as the big man bounded up the steps. 

[Illustration]

At the top he turned and fired at the soldiers who were charging throughthe open gate. They dropped, crawled, and returned his fire. Very fewshot at Jason's running form. 

The scene in front of Jason cranked over in slow motion. Kerk standingat the top of the ramp, coolly returning the fire that splashed allabout. He could have found safety in an instant through the open portbehind him. The only reason he stayed there was to cover Jason. 

"Thanks--" Jason managed to gasp as he made the last few steps up thegangway, jumped the gap and collapsed inside the ship. 

"You're perfectly welcome, " Kerk said as he joined him, waving his gunto cool it off. 

A grim-jawed ship's officer stood back out of range of fire from theground and looked them both up and down. "And just what is going onhere?" he growled. 

Kerk tested the barrel with a wet thumb, then let the gun slide backinto its holster. "We are law-abiding citizens of a different system whohave committed no criminal acts. The savages of Cassylia are toobarbarous for civilized company. Therefore we are going to Darkhan--hereare our tickets--in whose sovereign territory I believe we are at thismoment. " This last was added for the benefit of the Cassylian officerwho had just stumbled to the top of the gangway and was raising his gun. 

The soldier couldn't be blamed. He saw these badly wanted criminalsgetting away. Aboard a Darkhan ship as well. Anger got the best of himand he brought his gun up. 

"Come out of there, you scum. You're not escaping that easily. Come outslow with your hands up or I'll blast you--"

It was a frozen moment of time that stretched and stretched withoutbreaking. The pistol covered Kerk and Jason. Neither of them attemptedto reach for their own guns. 

The gun twitched a bit as the ship's officer moved, then steadied backon the two men. The Darkhan spaceman hadn't gone far, just a pace acrossthe lock. This was enough to bring him next to a red box set flush withthe wall. With a single, swift gesture he flipped up the cover andpoised his thumb over the button inside. When he smiled his lips peeledback to show all of his teeth. He had made up his mind, and it was thearrogance of the Cassylian officer that had been the deciding factor. 

"Fire a single shot into Darkhan territory and I press this button, " heshouted. "And you know what this button does--every one of your shipshas them as well. Commit a hostile act against this ship and _someone_will press a button. Every control rod will be blown out of the ship'spile at that instant and half your filthy city will go up in theexplosion. " His smile was chiseled on his face and there was no doubt hewould do what he said. "Go ahead--fire. I think I would enjoy pressingthis. "

The take-off siren was hooting now, the _close lock_ light blinking anangry message from the bridge. Like four actors in a grim drama theyfaced each other an instant more. 

Then the Cassylian officer, growling with unvoicable frustrated anger, turned and leaped back to the steps. 

"All passengers board ship. Forty-five seconds to take-off. Clear theport. " The ship's officer slammed shut the cover of the box and lockedit as he talked. There was barely time to make the acceleration couchesbefore the _Pride of Darkhan_ cleared ground. 

V. 

Once the ship was in orbit the captain sent for Jason and Kerk. Kerktook the floor and was completely frank about the previous night'sactivities. The only fact of importance he left out was Jason'sbackground as a professional gambler. He drew a beautiful picture oftwo lucky strangers whom the evil forces of Cassylia wanted to depriveof their gambling profits. All this fitted perfectly the captain'spreconceptions of Cassylia. In the end he congratulated his officer onthe correctness of his actions and began the preparation of a longreport to his government. He gave the two men his best wishes as well asthe liberty of the ship. 

It was a short trip. Jason barely had time to catch up on his sleepbefore they grounded on Darkhan. Being without luggage they were thefirst ones through customs. They left the shed just in time to seeanother ship landing in a distant pit. Kerk stopped to watch it andJason followed his gaze. It was a gray, scarred ship. With the stubbylines of a freighter--but sporting as many guns as a cruiser. 

"Yours, of course, " Jason said. 

Kerk nodded and started towards the ship. One of the locks opened asthey came up but no one appeared. Instead a remote-release foldingladder rattled down to the ground. Kerk swarmed up it and Jason followedglumly. Somehow, he felt, this was overdoing the no-frills-and-nonsenseattitude. 

Jason was catching on to Pyrran ways though. The reception aboard shipfor the ambassador was just what he expected. Nothing. Kerk closed thelock himself and they found couches as the take-off horn sounded. Themain jets roared and acceleration smashed down on Jason. 

It didn't stop. Instead it grew stronger, squeezing the air out of hislungs and the sight from his eyes. He screamed but couldn't hear his ownvoice through the roaring in his ears. Mercifully he blacked out. 

When consciousness returned the ship was at zero-G. Jason kept his eyesclosed and let the pain seep out of his body. Kerk spoke suddenly, hewas standing next to the couch. 

"My fault, Meta, I should have told you we had a 1-G passenger aboard. You might have eased up a bit on your usual bone-breaking take-off. "

"It doesn't seem to have harmed him much--but what's he doing here?"

Jason felt mild surprise that the second voice was a girl's. But hewasn't interested enough to go to the trouble of opening his sore eyes. 

"Going to Pyrrus. I tried to talk him out of it, of course, but Icouldn't change his mind. It's a shame, too, I would like to have donemore for him. He's the one who got the money for us. "

"Oh, that's awful, " the girl said. Jason wondered why it was _awful_. Itdidn't make sense to his groggy mind. "It would have been much better ifhe stayed on Darkhan, " the girl continued. "He's very nice-looking. Ithink it's a shame he has to die. "

That was too much for Jason. He pried one eye open, then the other. Thevoice belonged to a girl about twenty-one who was standing next to thebed, gazing down at Jason. She was beautiful. 

Jason's eyes opened wider as he realized she was _very_ beautiful--withthe kind of beauty never found in the civilized galaxy. The women he hadknown all ran to pale skin, hollow shoulders, gray faces covered withtints and dyes. They were the product of centuries of breedingweaknesses back into the race, as the advance of medicine kept alivemore and more non-survival types. 

This girl was the direct opposite in every way. She was the product ofsurvival on Pyrrus. The heavy gravity that produced bulging muscles inmen, brought out firm strength in straplike female muscles. She had thefigure of a goddess, tanned skin and perfectly formed face. Her hair, which was cut short, circled her head like a golden crown. The onlyunfeminine thing about her was the gun she wore in a bulky forearmholster. When she saw Jason's eyes open she smiled at him. Her teethwere as even and as white as he had expected. 

"I'm Meta, pilot of this ship. And you must be--"

"Jason dinAlt. That was a lousy take-off, Meta. "

"I'm really very sorry, " she laughed. "But being born on a two-G planetdoes make one a little immune to acceleration. I save fuel too, with thesynergy curve--"

Kerk gave a noncommittal grunt. "Come along, Meta, we'll take a look atthe cargo. Some of the new stuff will plug the gaps in the perimeter. "

"Oh yes, " she said, almost clapping her hands with happiness. "I readthe specs, they're simply wonderful. "

_Like a schoolgirl with a new dress. Or a box of candy. That's a greatattitude to have towards bombs and flame-throwers. _ Jason smiled wrylyat the thought as he groaned off the couch. The two Pyrrans had gone andhe pulled himself painfully through the door after them. 

 * * * * *

It took him a long time to find his way to the hold. The ship was bigand apparently empty of crew. Jason finally found a man sleeping in oneof the brightly lit cabins. He recognized him as the driver who hadturned the car over to them on Cassylia. The man, who had been sleepingsoundly a moment before, opened his eyes as soon as Jason drifted intothe room. He was wide awake. 

"How do I get to the cargo hold?" Jason asked. 

The other told him, closed his eyes and went instantly back to sleepbefore Jason could even say thanks. 

In the hold, Kerk and Meta had opened some of the crates and werechortling with joy over their lethal contents. Meta, a pressure canisterin her arms, turned to Jason as he came through the door. 

"Just look at this, " she said. "This powder in here--why you can eat itlike dirt, with less harm. Yet it is instantly deadly to all forms ofvegetable life . . . " She stopped suddenly as she realized Jason didn'tshare her extreme pleasure. "I'm sorry. I forgot for a moment there thatyou weren't a Pyrran. So you don't really understand, do you?"

Before he could answer, the PA speaker called her name. 

"Jump time, " she said. "Come with me to the bridge while I do theequations. We can talk there. I know so little about any place exceptPyrrus that I have a million questions to ask. "

Jason followed her to the bridge where she relieved the duty officer andbegan taking readings for the jump-setting. She looked out of placeamong the machines, a sturdy but supple figure in a simple, one-pieceshipsuit. Yet there was no denying the efficiency with which she wentabout her job. 

"Meta, aren't you a little young to be the pilot of an interstellarship?"

"Am I?" She thought for a second. "I really don't know how old pilotsare supposed to be. I have been piloting for about three years now andI'm almost twenty. Is that younger than usual?"

Jason opened his mouth--then laughed. "I suppose that all depends onwhat planet you're from. Some places you would have trouble gettinglicensed. But I'll bet things are different on Pyrrus. By theirstandards you must rank as an old lady. "

"Now you're making a joke, " Meta said serenely as she fed a figure intothe calculator. "I've seen old ladies on some planets. They are wrinkledand have gray hair. I don't know how old they are, I asked one but shewouldn't tell me her age. But I'm sure they must be older than anyone onPyrrus, no one looks like that there. "

"I don't mean old that way, " Jason groped for the right word. "Notold--but grown-up, mature. An adult. "

"Everyone is grown-up, " she answered. "At least soon after they leavethe wards. And they do that when they're six. My first child isgrown-up, and the second one would be, too, only he's dead. So I_surely_ must be. "

That seemed to settle the question for her, though Jason's thoughtsjumped with the alien concepts and background, inherent behind herwords. 

 * * * * *

Meta punched in the last setting, and the course tape began to chunk outof the case. She turned her attention back to Jason. "I'm glad you'reaboard this trip, though I am sorry you are going to Pyrrus. But we'llhave lots of time to talk. There are so many things I want to find outabout other planets, and why people go around acting the way they do. Not at all like home where you _know_ why people are doing things allthe time. " She frowned over the tape for a moment, then turned herattention back to Jason. "What is your home planet like?"

One after another the usual lies he told people came to his lips, andwere pushed away. Why bother lying to a girl who really didn't care ifyou were serf or noble? To her there were only two kinds of people inthe galaxy--Pyrrans, and the rest. For the first time since he had fledfrom Porgorstorsaand he found himself telling someone the truth of hisorigin. 

"My home planet? Just about the stuffiest, dullest, dead-end in theuniverse. You can't believe the destructive decay of a planet that ismainly agrarian, caste-conscious and completely satisfied with its ownboring existence. Not only is there no change--but no one _wants_change. My father was a farmer, so I should have been a farmer too--if Ihad listened to the advice of my betters. It was unthinkable, as well asforbidden for me to do anything else. And everything I wanted to do wasagainst the law. I was fifteen before I learned to read--out of a bookstolen from a noble school. After that there was no turning back. By thetime I stowed aboard an off-world freighter at nineteen I must havebroken every law on the planet. Happily. Leaving home for me was justlike getting out of prison. "

Meta shook her head at the thought. "I just can't imagine a place likethat. But I'm sure I wouldn't like it there. "

"I'm sure you wouldn't, " Jason laughed. "So once I was in space, with nolaw-abiding talents or skills, I just wandered into one thing andanother. In this age of technology I was completely out of place. Oh, Isuppose I could have done well in some army, but I'm not so good attaking orders. Whenever I gambled I did well, so little by little I justdrifted into it. People are the same everywhere, so I manage to make outwell wherever I end up. "

"I know what you mean about people being alike--but they are so_different_, " she said. "I'm not being clear at all, am I? What I meanis that at home I know what people will do and why they do it at thesame time. People on all the other planets do act alike, as you said, yet I have very much trouble understanding why. For instance, I like totry the local food when we set down on a planet, and if there is time Ialways do. There are bars and restaurants near every spaceport so I gothere. And I always have trouble with the men. They want to buy medrinks, hold my hand--"

"Well, a single girl in those port joints has to expect a certain amountof interest from the men. "

"Oh, I know that, " she said. "What I don't understand is why they don'tlisten when I tell them I am not interested and to go away. They justlaugh and pull up a chair, usually. But I have found that one thingworks wherever I am. I tell them if they don't stop bothering me I'llbreak their arm. "

"Does that stop them?" Jason asked. 

"No, of course not. But after I break their arm they go away. And theothers don't bother me either. It's a lot of fuss to go through and thefood is usually awful. "

Jason didn't laugh. Particularly when he realized that this girl _could_break the arm of any spaceport thug in the galaxy. She was a strangemixture of naivete and strength, unlike anyone he had ever met before. Once again he realized that he _had_ to visit the planet that producedpeople like her and Kerk. 

"Tell me about Pyrrus, " he asked. "Why is it that you and Kerk assumeautomatically that I will drop dead as soon as I land? What is theplanet like?"

All the warmth was gone from her face now. "I can't tell you. You willhave to see for yourself. I know that much after visiting some of theother worlds. Pyrrus is like nothing you galaxy people have everexperienced. You won't really believe it until it is too late. Will youpromise me something?"

"No, " he answered. "At least not until after I hear what it is anddecide. "

"Don't leave the ship when we land. You _should_ be safe enough aboard, and I'll be flying a cargo out within a few weeks. "

"I'll promise nothing of the sort. I'll leave when I want to leave. "Jason knew there was logic in her words, but his back was up at herautomatic superiority. 

Meta finished the jump settings without another word. There was atension in the room that prevented them both from talking. 

It was the next shipday before he saw her again, then it was completelyby accident. She was in the astrogation dome when he entered, looking upat the sparkling immensity of the jump sky. For the first time he sawher off duty, wearing something other than a shipsuit. This was a loose, soft robe that accentuated her beauty. 

She smiled at him. "The stars are so wonderful, " she said. "Come look. "Jason came close to her and with an unthinking, almost automaticmovement, put his arm around her. Neither did she resent it, for shecovered his hand with hers. Then they kissed and it was just the way heknew it would be. 

VI. 

After that they were together constantly. When Meta was on duty hebrought her meals to the bridge and they talked. Jason learned littlemore about her world since, by unspoken agreement, they didn't discussit. He talked of the many planets he had visited and the people he hadknown. She was an appreciative listener and the time went quickly by. They enjoyed each other's company and it was a wonderful trip. 

Then it ended. 

There were fourteen people aboard the ship, yet Jason had never seenmore than two or three at a time. There was a fixed rotation of dutiesthat they followed in the ship's operation. When not on duty the Pyrransminded their own business in an intense and self-sufficient manner. Onlywhen the ship came out of jump and the PA barked _assembly_ did they allget together. 

Kerk was giving orders for the landing and questions were snapped backand forth. It was all technical and Jason didn't bother following it. Itwas the attitude of the Pyrrans that drew his attention. Their talktended to be faster now as were their motions. They were like soldierspreparing for battle. 

Their sameness struck Jason for the first time. Not that they lookedalike or did the same things. It was the _way_ they moved and reactedthat caused the striking similarity. They were like great, stalkingcats. Walking fast, tense and ready to spring at all times, their eyesnever still for an instant. 

Jason tried to talk to Meta after the meeting, but she was almost astranger. She answered in monosyllables and her eyes never met his, justbrushed over them and went on. There was nothing he could really say soshe moved to leave. He started to put his hand out to stop her--thenthought better of it. There would be other times to talk. 

Kerk was the only one who took any notice of him--and then only to orderhim to an acceleration couch. 

Meta's landings were infinitely worse than her take-offs. At least whenshe landed on Pyrrus. There were sudden acceleration surges in everydirection. At one point there was a free fall that seemed endless. Therewere loud thuds against the hull that shook the framework of the ship. It was more like a battle than a landing, and Jason wondered how muchtruth there was in that. 

When the ship finally landed Jason didn't even know it. The constant2 G's felt like deceleration. Only the descending moan of the ship'sengines convinced him they were down. Unbuckling the straps and sittingup was an effort. 

Two G's don't seem that bad--at first. Walking required the sameexertion as would carrying a man of his own weight on his shoulders. When Jason lifted his arm to unlatch the door it was heavy as two arms. He shuffled slowly towards the main lock. 

[Illustration]

They were all there ahead of him, two of the men rolling transparentcylinders from a nearby room. From their obvious weight and the way theyclanged when they bumped, Jason knew they were made of transparentmetal. He couldn't conceive any possible use for them. Empty cylinders ameter in diameter, longer than a man. One end solid, the other hingedand sealed. It wasn't until Kerk spun the sealing wheel and opened oneof them that their use became apparent. 

"Get in, " Kerk said. "When you're locked inside you'll be carried out ofthe ship. "

"Thank you, no, " Jason told him. "I have no particular desire to make aspectacular landing on your planet sealed up like a packaged sausage. "

"Don't be a fool, " was Kerk's snapped answer. "We're _all_ going out inthese tubes. We've been away too long to risk the surface withoutreorientation. "

 * * * * *

Jason did feel a little foolish as he saw the others getting into tubes. He picked the nearest one, slid into it feet first, and pulled the lidclosed. When he tightened the wheel in the center, it squeezed downagainst a flexible seal. Within a minute the CO{2} content in the closedcylinder went up and an air regenerator at the bottom hummed into life. 

Kerk was the last one in. He checked the seals on all the other tubesfirst, then jabbed the air-lock override release. As it started cyclinghe quickly sealed himself in the remaining cylinder. Both inner andouter locks ground slowly open and dim light filtered in through sheetsof falling rain. 

For Jason, the whole thing seemed an anticlimax. All this preparationfor absolutely nothing. Long, impatient minutes passed before a lifttruck appeared driven by a Pyrran. He loaded the cylinders onto histruck like so much dead cargo. Jason had the misfortune to be buried atthe bottom of the pile so he could see absolutely nothing when theydrove outside. 

It wasn't until the man-carrying cylinders had been dumped in ametal-walled room, that Jason saw his first native Pyrran life. 

The lift truck driver was swinging a thick outer door shut whensomething flew in through the entrance and struck against the far wall. Jason's eye was caught by the motion, he looked to see what it was whenit dropped straight down towards his face. 

Forgetful of the metal cylinder wall, he flinched away. The creaturestruck the transparent metal and clung to it. Jason had the perfectopportunity to examine it in every detail. 

It was almost too horrible to be believable. As though it were a bearerof death stripped to the very essentials. A mouth that split the head intwo, rows of teeth, serrated and pointed. Leathery, claw-tipped wings, longer claws on the limbs that tore at the metal wall. 

Terror rose up in Jason as he saw that the claws were tearing gouges inthe transparent metal. Wherever the creature's saliva touched the metalclouded and chipped under the assault of the teeth. 

Logic said these were just scratches on the thick tube. They couldn'tmatter. But blind, unreasoning fear sent Jason curling away as far as hecould. Shrinking inside himself, seeking escape. 

Only when the flying creature began dissolving did he realize the natureof the room outside. Sprays of steaming liquid came from all sides, raining down until the cylinders were covered. After one last clash ofits jaws, the Pyrran animal was washed off and carried away. The liquiddrained away through the floor and a second and third shower followed. 

While the solutions were being pumped away, Jason fought to bring hisemotions into line. He was surprised at himself. No matter how frightfulthe creature had been, he couldn't understand the fear it could generatethrough the wall of the sealed tube. His reaction was all out ofproportion to the cause. Even with the creature destroyed and washed outof sight it took all of his will power to steady his nerves and bringhis breathing back to normal. 

 * * * * *

Meta walked by outside and he realized the sterilization process wasfinished. He opened his own tube and climbed wearily out. Meta and theothers had gone by this time and only a hawk-faced stranger remained, waiting for him. 

"I'm Brucco, in charge of the adaptation clinic. Kerk told me who youwere. I'm sorry you're here. Now come along, I want some blood samples. "

"Now I feel right at home, " Jason said. "The old Pyrran hospitality. "Brucco only grunted and stamped out. Jason followed him down a barecorridor into a sterile lab. 

The double gravity was tiring, a constant drag on sore muscles. WhileBrucco ran tests on the blood sample, Jason rested. He had almost dozedoff into a painful sleep when Brucco returned with a tray of bottles andhypodermic needles. 

"Amazing, " he announced. "Not an antibody in your serum that would be ofany use on this planet. I have a batch of antigens here that will makeyou sick as a beast for at least a day. Take off your shirt. "

"Have you done this often?" Jason asked. "I mean juice up an outlanderso he can enjoy the pleasures of your world?"

Brucco jammed in a needle that felt like it grated on the bone. "Notoften at all. Last time was years ago. A half-dozen researchers fromsome institute, willing to pay well for the chance to study the locallife forms. We didn't say no. Always need more galaxy currency. "

Jason was already beginning to feel light-headed from the shots. "Howmany of them lived?" he mumbled vaguely. 

"One. We got him off in time. Made them pay in advance of course. "

At first Jason thought the Pyrran was joking. Then he remembered theyhad very little interest in humor of any kind. If one-half of what Metaand Kerk had told him was true, six to one odds weren't bad at all. 

There was a bed in the next room and Brucco helped him to it. Jason feltdrugged and probably was. He fell into a deep sleep and into the dream. 

Fear and hatred mixed in equal parts and washed over him red hot. Ifthis was a dream, he never wanted to sleep again. If it wasn't a dream, he wanted to die. He tried to fight up against it, but only sank in moredeeply. There was no beginning and no end to the fear and no way toescape. 

When consciousness returned Jason could remember no detail of thenightmare. Just the fear remained. He was soaked with sweat and ached inevery muscle. It must have been the massive dose of shots, he finallydecided, that and the brutal gravity. That didn't take the taste of fearout of his mouth, though. 

Brucco stuck his head in the door then and looked Jason up and down. "Thought you were dead, " he said. "Slept the clock around. Don't move, I'll get something to pick you up. "

The pickup was in the form of another needle and a glassful ofevil-looking fluid. It settled his thirst, but made him painfully awareof gnawing hunger. 

"Want to eat?" Brucco asked. "I'll bet you do. I've speeded up yourmetabolism so you'll build muscle faster. Only way you'll ever beat thegravity. Give you quite an appetite for a while though. "

Brucco ate at the same time and Jason had a chance to ask somequestions. "When do I get a chance to look around your fascinatingplanet? So far this trip has been about as interesting as a jail term. "

"Relax and enjoy your food. Probably be months before you're able to gooutside. If at all. "

Jason felt his jaw hanging and closed it with a snap. "Could youpossibly tell me why?"

"Of course. You will have to go through the same training course thatour children take. It takes them six years. Of course it's their firstsix years of life. So you might think that you, as an adult, could learnfaster. Then again they have the advantage of heredity. All I can say isyou'll go outside these sealed buildings when you're ready. "

Brucco had finished eating while he talked, and sat staring at Jason'sbare arms with growing disgust. "The first thing we want to get you is agun, " he said. "It gives me a sick feeling to see someone without one. "

Of course Brucco wore his own gun continually, even within the sealedbuildings. 

"Every gun is fitted to its owner and would be useless on anyone else, "Brucco said. "I'll show you why. " He led Jason to an armory jammed withdeadly weapons. "Put your arm in this while I make the adjustments. "

 * * * * *

It was a boxlike machine with a pistol grip on the side. Jason clutchedthe grip and rested his elbow on a metal loop. Brucco fixed pointersthat touched his arm, then copied the results from the meters. Readingthe figures from his list he selected various components from bins andquickly assembled a power holster and gun. With the holster strapped tohis forearm and the gun in his hand, Jason noticed for the first timethey were connected by a flexible cable. The gun fitted his handperfectly. 

"This is the secret of the power holster, " Brucco said, tapping theflexible cable. "It is perfectly loose while you are using the weapon. But when you want it returned to the holster--" Brucco made anadjustment and the cable became a stiff rod that whipped the gun fromJason's hand and suspended it in midair. 

"Then the return. " The rod-cable whirred and snapped the gun back intothe holster. "The drawing action is the opposite of this, of course. "

"A great gadget, " Jason said, "but how _do_ I draw? Do I whistle orsomething for the gun to pop out?"

"No, it is not sonic control, " Brucco answered with a sober face. "It ismuch more precise than that. Here, take your left hand and grasp animaginary gun butt. Tense your trigger finger. Do you notice the patternof the tendons in the wrist? Sensitive actuators touch the tendons inyour right wrist. They ignore all patterns except the one that says_hand ready to receive gun_. After a time the mechanism becomescompletely automatic. When you want the gun--it is in your hand. Whenyou don't--it is in the holster. "

Jason made grasping motions with his right hand, crooked his indexfinger. There was a sudden, smashing pain against his hand and a loudroar. The gun was in his hand--half the fingers were numb--and smokecurled up from the barrel. 

"Of course there are only blank charges in the gun until you learncontrol. Guns are _always_ loaded. There is no safety. Notice the lackof a trigger guard. That enables you to bend your trigger finger aslight bit more when drawing so the gun will fire the instant it touchesyour hand. "

It was without a doubt the most murderous weapon Jason had everhandled, as well as being the hardest to manage. Working against themuscle-burning ache of high gravity, he fought to control the devilishdevice. It had an infuriating way of vanishing into the holster just ashe was about to pull the trigger. Even worse was the tendency to leapout before he was quite ready. The gun went to the position where hishand should be. If the fingers weren't correctly placed, they werecrashed aside. Jason only stopped the practice when his entire hand wasone livid bruise. 

Complete mastery would come with time, but he could already understandwhy the Pyrrans never removed their guns. It would be like removing apart of your own body. The movement of gun from holster to hand was toofast for him to detect. It was certainly faster than the neural currentthat shaped the hand into the gun-holding position. For all apparentpurposes it was like having a lightning bolt in your fingertip. Pointthe finger and _blamm_, there's the explosion. 

 * * * * *

Brucco had left Jason to practice alone. When his aching hand could takeno more, he stopped and headed back towards his own quarters. Turning acorner 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 inthe doubled gravity. Everything about her seemed different from the girlhe had known on the ship. Heavy boots came as high as her knees, herfigure was lost in bulky coveralls of some metallic fabric. The trimwaist was bulged out by a belt of canisters. Her very expression wascoldly distant. 

"I've missed you, " he said. "I hadn't realized you were in thisbuilding. " 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 isJason, remember me? We're friends. It _is_ allowed for friends to talkwithout 'wanting' anything. "

"What happened on the ship has nothing to do with what happens onPyrrus. " She started forward impatiently as she talked. "I have finishedmy reconditioning and must return to work. You'll be staying here in thesealed buildings so I won't be seeing you. "

"Why don't you say 'with the rest of the children'--that's what yourtone implies? And don't try walking out, there are some things we haveto settle first--"

Jason made the mistake of putting out his hand to stop her. He didn'treally know what happened next. One instant he was standing--the next hesprawled suddenly on the floor. His shoulder was badly bruised, and Metahad vanished down the corridor. 

Limping back to his own room he cursed women in general and Meta inparticular. Dropping onto his rock-hard bed he tried to remember thereasons that had brought him here in the first place. And weighed themagainst the perpetual torture of the gravity, the fear-filled dreams itinspired, the automatic contempt of these people for any outsider. Hequickly checked the growing tendency to feel sorry for himself. ByPyrran standards he _was_ soft and helpless. If he wanted them to thinkany better of him, he would have to change a good deal. 

He sank into a fatigue-drugged sleep then, that was broken only by thescreaming fear of his dreams. 

VII. 

In the morning Jason awoke with a bad headache and the feeling he hadnever been to sleep. As he took some of the carefully portionedstimulants that Brucco had given him, he wondered again about thecombination of factors that filled his sleep with such horror. 

"Eat quickly, " Brucco told him when they met in the dining room. "I canno longer spare you time for individual instruction. You will join theregular classes and take the prescribed courses. Only come to me ifthere is some special problem that the instructors or trainers can'thandle. "

The classes--as Jason should have expected--were composed of stern-facedlittle children. With their compact bodies and no-nonsense mannerismsthey were recognizably Pyrran. But they were still children enough toconsider it very funny to have an adult in their classes. Jammed behindone of the tiny desks, the red-faced Jason did not think it was much ofa joke. 

All resemblance to a normal school ended with the physical form of theclassroom. For one thing, every child--no matter how small--packed agun. And the courses were all involved with survival. The only possiblegrade in a curriculum like this was one hundred per cent and studentsstayed with a lesson until they mastered it perfectly. No courses wereoffered in the normal scholastic subjects. Presumably these were studiedafter the child graduated survival school and could face the worldalone. Which was a logical and cold-hearted way of looking at things. Infact, logical and cold-hearted could describe any Pyrran activity. 

Most of the morning was spent on the operation of one of the medikitsthat strapped around the waist. This was a poison analyzer that waspressed over a puncture wound. If any toxins were present, the antidotewas automatically injected on the site. Simple in operation butincredibly complex in construction. Since all Pyrrans serviced their ownequipment--you could then only blame yourself if it failed--they had tolearn the construction and repair of all the devices. Jason did muchbetter 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 surfaceof the planet, corrected constantly as the life forms change. The onlydifference between them is the varying degree of deadliness. This firstmachine you will use is of course the one infants are put into--"

"You're too kind, " Jason murmured. "Your flattery overwhelms me. " Theinstructor continued, taking no notice of the interruption. 

". . . Infants are put into as soon as they can crawl. It is real insubstance, though completely deactivated. "

 * * * * *

Training machine was the wrong word, Jason realized as they enteredthrough the thick door. This was a chunk of the outside world duplicatedin an immense chamber. It took very little suspension of reality for himto forget the painted ceiling and artificial sun high above and imaginehimself outdoors at last. The scene _seemed_ peaceful enough. Thoughclouds 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 softgrass that covered the ground. Immediately a voice barked from hiddenspeakers. 

"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 grasswas the same. The soft green lawn was a carpet of death. As hestraightened up he glimpsed something under a broad-leafed plant. Acrouching, scale-covered animal, whose tapered head terminated in a longspike. 

"What's _that_ in the bottom of my garden?" he asked. "You certainlygive the babies pleasant playmates. " Jason turned and realized he wastalking to the air, the instructor was gone. He shrugged and petted thescaly monstrosity. 

"Horndevil, " the impersonal voice said from midair. "Clothing and shoesno protection. Kill it. "

A sharp _crack_ shattered the silence as Jason's gun went off. Thehorndevil fell on its side, keyed to react to the blank charge. 

"Well . . . I _am_ learning, " Jason said, and the thought pleased him. Thewords _kill it_ had been used by Brucco while teaching him to use thegun. Their stimulus had reached an unconscious level. He was aware ofwanting to shoot only after he had heard the shot. His respect forPyrran training techniques went up. 

Jason spent a thoroughly unpleasant afternoon wandering in the child'sgarden of horror. Death was everywhere. While all the time thedisembodied voice gave him stern advice in simple language. So he coulddo unto, rather than being done in. He had never realized that violentdeath could come in so many repulsive forms. _Everything_ here wasdeadly to man--from the smallest insect to the largest plant. 

Such singleness of purpose seemed completely unnatural. Why was thisplanet so alien to human life? He made a mental note to ask Brucco. Meanwhile he tried to find one life form that wasn't out for his blood. He didn't succeed. After a long search he found the only thing that whentouched didn't elicit deadly advice. This was a chunk of rock thatprojected from a meadow of poison grass. Jason sat on it with a friendlyfeeling and pulled his feet up. An oasis of peace. Some minutes passedwhile he rested his gravity-weary body. 

"ROTFUNGUS--DO NOT TOUCH!"

The voice blasted at twice its normal volume and Jason leaped as if hehad been shot. The gun was in his hand, nosing about for a target. Onlywhen he bent over and looked closely at the rock where he had beensitting, did he understand. There were flaky gray patches that hadn'tbeen there when he sat down. 

"Oh you tricky devils!" he shouted at the machine. "How many kids haveyou frightened off that rock after they thought they had found a littlepeace!" He resented the snide bit of conditioning, but respected it atthe same time. Pyrrans learned very early in life that there was nosafety on this planet--except that which they provided for themselves. 

While he was learning about Pyrrus he was gaining new insight into thePyrrans as well. 

VIII. 

Days turned into weeks in the school, cut off from the world outside. Jason almost became proud of his ability to deal death. He recognizedall the animals and plants in the nursery room and had been promoted toa trainer where the beasts made sluggish charges at him. His gun pickedoff the attackers with dull regularity. The constant, daily classes werebeginning to bore him as well. 

Though the gravity still dragged at him, his muscles were making greatefforts to adjust. After the daily classes he no longer collapsedimmediately into bed. Only the nightmares got worse. He had finallymentioned them to Brucco, who mixed up a sleeping potion that took awaymost of their effect. The dreams were still there, but Jason was onlyvaguely aware of them upon awakening. 

By the time Jason had mastered all the gadgetry that kept the Pyrransalive, he had graduated to a most realistic trainer that was only ahair-breadth away from the real thing. The difference was just inquality. The insect poisons caused swelling and pain instead of instantdeath. Animals could cause bruises and tear flesh, but stopped short ofripping off limbs. You couldn't get killed in this trainer, but couldcertainly come very close to it. 

Jason wandered through this large and rambling jungle with the rest ofthe five-year-olds. There was something a bit humorous, yet sad, abouttheir unchildlike grimness. Though they still might laugh in theirquarters, they realized there was no laughing outside. To them survivalwas linked up with social acceptance and desirability. In this wayPyrrus was a simple black-and-white society. To prove your value toyourself and your world, you only had to stay alive. This had greatimportance in racial survival, but had very stultifying effects onindividual personality. Children were turned into like-faced killers, always on the alert to deal out death. 

Some of the children graduated into the outside world and others tooktheir places. Jason watched this process for a while before he realizedthat all of those from the original group he had entered with were gone. That same day he looked up the chief of the adaptation center. 

"Brucco, " Jason asked, "how long do you plan to keep me in thiskindergarten shooting gallery?"

"You're not being 'kept' here, " Brucco told him in his usual irritatedtone. "You will be here until you qualify for the outside. "

[Illustration]

"Which I have a funny feeling will be never. I can now field strip andreassemble every one of your blasted gadgets in the dark. I am a deadshot with this cannon. At this present moment, if I had to, I couldwrite a book on the Complete Flora and Fauna of Pyrrus, and How to KillIt. Perhaps I don't do as well as my six-year-old companions, but I havea hunch I do about as good a job now as I ever will. Is that true?"

Brucco squirmed with the effort to be evasive, yet didn't succeed. "Ithink, that is, you know you weren't born here, and--"

"Come, come, " Jason said with glee, "a straight-faced old Pyrran likeyou shouldn't try to lie to one of the weaker races that specialize inthat sort of thing. It goes without saying that I'll always be sluggishwith this gravity, as well as having other inborn handicaps. I admitthat. We're not talking about that now. The question is--will I improvewith more training, or have I reached a peak of my own _development_now?"

Brucco sweated. "With the passage of time there will be improvement ofcourse--"

"Sly devil!" Jason waggled a finger at him. "Yes or no, now. Will Iimprove _now_ by more training _now_?"

"No, " Brucco said, and still looked troubled. Jason sized him up like apoker hand. 

"Now let's think about that. I won't improve--yet I'm still stuck here. That's no accident. So you must have been ordered to keep me here. Andfrom what I have seen of this planet, admittedly very little, I wouldsay that Kerk ordered you to keep me here. Is that right?"

"He was only doing it for your own sake, " Brucco explained, "trying tokeep you alive. "

"The truth is out, " Jason said, "so let us now forget about it. I didn'tcome here to shoot robots with your offspring. So please show me thestreet door. Or is there a graduating ceremony first? Speeches, handingout school pins, sabers overhead--"

"Nothing like that, " Brucco snapped. "I don't see how a grown man likeyou can talk such nonsense all the time. There is none of that, ofcourse. Only some final work in the partial survival chamber. That is acompound that connects with the outside--really is a part of theoutside--except the most violent life forms are excluded. And even someof those manage to find their way in once in a while. "

"When do I go?" Jason shot the question. 

"Tomorrow morning. Get a good night's sleep first. You'll need it. "

 * * * * *

There was one bit of ceremony attendant with the graduation. When Jasoncame into his office in the morning, Brucco slid a heavy gun clip acrossthe table. 

"These are live bullets, " he said. "I'm sure you'll be needing them. After this your gun will always be loaded. "

They came up to a heavy air lock, the only locked door Jason had seen inthe center. While Brucco unlocked it and threw the bolts, a sober-facedeight-year-old with a bandaged leg limped up. 

"This is Grif, " Brucco said. "He will stay with you, wherever you go, from now on. "

"My personal bodyguard?" Jason asked, looking down at the stocky childwho barely reached his waist. 

"You might call him that. " Brucco swung the door open. "Grif tangledwith a sawbird, so he won't be able to do any real work for a while. Youyourself admitted that you will never be able to equal a Pyrran, so youshould be glad of a little protection. "

"Always a kind word, that's you, Brucco, " Jason said. He bent over andshook hands with the boy. Even the eight-year-olds had a bone-crushinggrip. 

The two of them entered the lock and Brucco swung the inner door shutbehind them. As soon as it was sealed the outer door openedautomatically. It was only partly open when Grif's gun blasted twice. Then they stepped out onto the surface of Pyrrus, over the smoking bodyof one of its animals. 

Very symbolic, Jason thought. He was also bothered by the realizationthat he hadn't remembered to look for something coming in. Then, too, hecouldn't even identify the beast from its charred remains. He glancedaround, hoping he would be able to fire first himself, next time. 

This was an unfulfilled hope. The few beasts that came their way werealways seen first by the boy. After an hour of this, Jason was soirritated that he blasted an evil-looking thorn plant out of existence. He hoped that Grif wouldn't look too closely at it. Of course the boydid. 

"That plant wasn't close. It is stupid to waste good ammunition on aplant, " Grif said. 

There was no real trouble during the day. Jason ended by being bored, though soaked by the frequent rainstorms. If Grif was capable ofcarrying on a conversation, he didn't show it. All Jason's gambitsfailed. The following day went the same way. On the third day, Bruccoappeared and looked Jason carefully up and down. 

"I don't like to say it, but I suppose you are as ready to leave now asyou ever will be. Change the virus filter noseplugs every day. Alwayscheck boots for tears and metalcloth suiting for rips. Medikit suppliesrenewed once a week. "

"And wipe my nose and wear my galoshes. Anything else?" Jason asked. 

Brucco started to say something, then changed his mind. "Nothing thatyou shouldn't know well by now. Keep alert. And . . . Good luck. " Hefollowed up the words with a crushing handshake that was totallyunexpected. As soon as the numbness left Jason's hand, he and Grif wentout through the large entrance lock. 

IX. 

Real as they had been, the training chambers had not prepared him forthe surface of Pyrrus. There was the basic similarity of course. Thefeel of the poison grass underfoot and the erratic flight of a stingwingin the last instant before Grif blasted it. But these were scarcelynoticeable in the crash of the elements around him. 

A heavy rain was falling, more like a sheet of water than individualdrops. Gusts of wind tore at it, hurling the deluge into his face. Hewiped his eyes clear and could barely make out the conical forms of twovolcanoes on the horizon, vomiting out clouds of smoke and flame. Thereflection of this inferno was a sullen redness on the clouds that racedby in banks above them. 

There was a rattle on his hard hat and something bounced off to splashto the ground. He bent over and picked up a hailstone as thick as histhumb. A sudden flurry of hail hammered painfully at his back and neck, he straightened hurriedly. 

As quickly as it started the storm was over. The sun burned down, melting the hailstones and sending curls of steam up from the wetstreet. Jason sweated inside his armored clothing. Yet before they hadgone a block it was raining again and he shook with chill. 

Grif trudged steadily along, indifferent to the weather or the volcanoesthat rumbled on the horizon and shook the ground beneath their feet. Jason tried to ignore his discomfort and match the boy's pace. 

The walk was a depressing one. The heavy, squat buildings loomed graylythrough the rain, more than half of them in ruins. They walked on apedestrian way in the middle of the street. The occasional armoredtrucks went by on both sides of them. The midstreet sidewalk puzzledJason until Grif blasted something that hurtled out of a ruined buildingtowards them. The central location gave them some chance to see what wascoming. Suddenly Jason was very tired. 

"Grif, this city of yours is sure down at the heels. I hope the otherones are in better shape. "

"I don't know what you mean talking about heels. But there are no othercities. Some mining camps that can't be located inside the perimeter. But no other cities. "

This surprised Jason. He had always visualized the planet with more thanone city. There were a _lot_ of things he didn't know about Pyrrus, herealized suddenly. All of his efforts since landing had been taken upwith the survival studies. There were a number of questions he wanted toask. But ask them of somebody other than his grouchy eight-year-oldbodyguard. There was one person who would be best equipped to tell himwhat he wanted to know. 

"Do you know Kerk?" he asked the boy. "Apparently he's your ambassadorto a lot of places, but his last name--"

"Sure, everybody knows Kerk. But he's busy, you shouldn't see him. "

Jason shook a finger at him. "Minder of my body you may be. But minderof my soul you are not. What do you say I call the shots and you goalong to shoot the monsters? O. K. ?"

 * * * * *

They took shelter from a sudden storm of fist-sized hailstones. Then, with ill grace, Grif led the way to one of the larger, centralbuildings. There were more people here and some of them even glanced atJason for a minute, before turning back to their business. Jason draggedhimself up two flights of stairs before they reached a door markedCO-ORDINATION AND SUPPLY. 

"Kerk in here?" Jason asked. 

"Sure, " the boy told him. "He's in charge. "

"Fine. Now you get a nice cold drink, or your lunch, or something, andmeet me back here in a couple of hours. I imagine Kerk can do as good ajob of looking after me as you can. "

The boy stood doubtfully for a few seconds, then turned away. Jasonwiped off some more sweat and pushed through the door. 

There were a handful of people in the office beyond. None of them lookedup at Jason or asked his business. Everything has a purpose on Pyrrus. If he came there--he must have had a good reason. No one would everthink to ask him what he wanted. Jason, used to the petty officialdom ofa thousand worlds, waited for a few moments before he understood. Therewas only one other door. He shuffled over and opened it. 

Kerk looked up from a desk strewed about with papers and ledgers. "I waswondering when you would show up, " he said. 

"A lot sooner if you hadn't prevented it, " Jason told him as he droppedwearily into a chair. "It finally dawned on me that I could spend therest of my life in your blood-thirsty nursery school if I didn't dosomething about it. So here I am. "

"Ready to return to the 'civilized' worlds, now that you've seen enoughof Pyrrus?"

"I am not, " Jason said. "And I'm getting very tired of everyone tellingme to leave. I'm beginning to think that you and the rest of the Pyrransare trying to hide something. "

Kerk smiled at the thought. "What could we have to hide? I doubt if anyplanet has as simple and one-directional an existence as ours. "

"If that's true, then you certainly wouldn't mind answering a few directquestions about Pyrrus?"

Kerk started to protest, then laughed. "Well done. I should know betterby now than to argue with you. What do you want to know?"

Jason tried to find a comfortable position on the hard chair, then gaveup. "What's the population of your planet?" he asked. 

For a second Kerk hesitated, then said, "Roughly thirty thousand. Thatis not very much for a planet that has been settled this long, but thereason for that is obvious. "

"All right, population thirty thousand, " Jason said. "Now how aboutsurface control of your planet. I was surprised to find out that thiscity within its protective wall--the perimeter--is the only one on theplanet. Let's not consider the mining camps, since they are obviouslyjust extensions of the city. Would you say then, that you people controlmore or less of the planet's surface than you did in the past?"

 * * * * *

Kerk picked up a length of steel pipe from the desk, that he used as apaperweight, and toyed with it as he thought. The thick steel bent likerubber at his touch, as he concentrated on his answer. 

"That's hard to say offhand. There must be records of that sort ofthing, though I wouldn't know where to find them. It depends on so manyfactors--"

"Let's forget that for now then, " Jason said. "I have another questionthat's really more relevant. Wouldn't you say that the population ofPyrrus is declining steadily, year after year?"

There was a sharp _twang_ as the steel snapped in Kerk's fingers, thepieces dropping to the floor. He stood, over Jason, his hands extendedtowards the smaller man, his face flushed and angry. 

"Don't ever say that, " he roared. "Don't let me ever hear you say thatagain!"

Jason sat as quietly as he could, talking slowly and picking out eachword with care. His life hung in the balance. 

"Don't get angry, Kerk. I meant no harm. I'm on your side, remember? Ican talk to you because you've seen much more of the universe than thePyrrans who have never left the planet. You are used to discussingthings. You know that words are just symbols. We can talk and know youdon't have to lose your temper over mere words--"

Kerk slowly lowered his arms and stepped away. Then he turned and pouredhimself a glass of water from a bottle on the desk. He kept his backturned to Jason while he drank. 

Very little of the sweat that Jason wiped from his sopping face wascaused by the heat in the room. 

"I'm . . . Sorry I lost my temper, " Kerk said, dropping heavily into hischair. "Doesn't usually happen. Been working hard lately, must have gotmy temper on edge. " He made no mention of what Jason had said. 

"Happens to all of us, " Jason told him. "I won't begin to describe thecondition my nerves were in when I hit this planet. I'm finally forcedto admit that everything you said about Pyrrus is true. It is the mostdeadly spot in the system. And only native-born Pyrrans could possiblysurvive here. I can manage to fumble along a bit after my training, butI know I would never stand a chance on my own. You probably know I havean eight-year-old as a bodyguard. Gives a good idea of my real statushere. "

Anger suppressed, Kerk was back in control of himself now. His eyesnarrowed in thought. "Surprises me to hear you say that. Never thought Iwould hear you admit that anyone could be better than you at anything. Isn't that why you came here? To prove that you were as good as anynative-born Pyrran?"

"Score one for your side, " Jason admitted. "I didn't think it showedthat much. And I'm glad to see your mind isn't as muscle-bound as yourbody. Yes, I'll admit that was probably my main reason for coming, thatand curiosity. "

Kerk was following his own train of thoughts, and puzzled where theywere leading him. "You came here to prove that you were as good as anynative-born Pyrran. Yet now you admit that any eight-year-old canoutdraw you. That just doesn't stack up with what I know about you. Ifyou give with one hand, you must be taking back with the other. In whatway do you still feel your natural superiority?"

Jason thought a long time before answering. 

"I'll tell you, " he finally said. "But don't snap my neck for it. I'mgambling that your civilized mind can control your reflexes. Because Ihave to talk about things that are strictly taboo on Pyrrus. 

"In your people's eyes I'm a weakling because I come from off-world. Realize though, that this is also my strength. I can see things that arehidden from you by long association. You know, the old business of notbeing able to see the forest for the trees in the way. " Kerk noddedagreement and Jason went on. 

"To continue the analogy further, I landed from an airship, and atfirst all I _could_ see was the forest. To me certain facts areobvious. I think that you people know them too, only you keep yourthoughts carefully repressed. They are hidden thoughts that arecompletely taboo. I am going to say one of them out loud now and hopeyou can control yourself well enough to not kill me. "

Kerk's great hands tightened on the arms of his chair, the only signthat he had heard. Jason talked quietly, as smoothly and easily as alancet probing into a brain. 

"Human beings are losing the war on Pyrrus. There is no chance they canwin. They could leave for another planet, but that wouldn't be victory. Yet, if they stay and continue this war, they only prolong aparticularly bloody form of racial suicide. With each generation thepopulation drops. Until eventually the planet will win. "

One arm of Kerk's plastic and steel chair tore loose under the crushinggrasp of his fingers. He didn't notice it. The rest of his body wasrock-still and his eyes fixed on Jason. 

Looking away from the fractured chair, Jason sought for the right words. 

"This is not a real war, but a disastrous treating of symptoms. Likecutting off cancerous fingers one by one. The only result can beultimate death. None of you seem to realize that. All you see are thetrees. It has never occurred to you that you could treat the _causes_ ofthis war and end it forever. "

Kerk dropped the arm of the chair clattering to the floor. He sat up, astonished. "What the devil do you mean? You sound like a grubber. "

Jason didn't ask what a grubber was--but he filed the name. 

"Call me a Pyrran by adoption. I want this planet to survive as much asyou do. I think this war can be ended by finding the _causes_--andchanging them, whatever they are. "

"You're talking nonsense, " Kerk said. "This is just an alien world thatmust be battled. The causes are self-obvious facts of existence. "

"No, they're not, " Jason insisted. "Consider for a second. When you areaway for any length of time from this planet, you must take a refreshercourse. To see how things have changed for the worse while you weregone. Well, that's a linear progression. If things get worse when youextend into the future, then they have to get better if you extend intothe past. It is also good theory--though I don't know if the facts willbear me out--to say that if you extend it far enough into the past youwill reach a time when mankind and Pyrrus were not at war with eachother. "

Kerk was beyond speech now, only capable of sitting and listening whileJason drove home the blows of inescapable logic. 

"There is evidence to support this theory. Even you will admit that I, if I am no match for Pyrran life, am surely well versed in it. And allPyrran flora and fauna I've seen have one thing in common. They're notfunctional. _None_ of their immense armory of weapons is used againsteach other. Their toxins don't seem to operate against Pyrran life. Theyare good only for dispensing death to Homo sapiens. And _that_ is aphysical impossibility. In the three hundred years that men have been onthis planet, the life forms couldn't have naturally adapted in thismanner. "

"But they _have_ done it!" Kerk bellowed. 

"You are so right, " Jason told him calmly. "And if they have done itthere must be some agency at work. Operating how--I have no idea. Butsomething has caused the life on Pyrrus to declare war, and I'd like tofind out what that something is. What was the dominant life form herewhen your ancestors landed?"

[Illustration]

"I'm sure I wouldn't know, " Kerk said. "You're not suggesting, are you, that there are sentient beings on Pyrrus other than those of humandescent? Creatures who are organizing the planet to battle us?"

"I'm not suggesting it--you are. That means you're getting the idea. Ihave no idea what caused this change, but I would sure like to find out. Then see if it can be changed back. Nothing promised, of course. You'llagree, though, that it is worth investigating. "

 * * * * *

Fist smacking into his palm, his heavy footsteps shaking the building, Kerk paced back and forth the length of the room. He was at war withhimself. New ideas fought old beliefs. It was so sudden--and so hard notto believe. 

Without asking permission Jason helped himself to some chilled waterfrom the bottle, and sank back into the chair, exhausted. Somethingwhizzed in through the open window, tearing a hole in the protectivescreen. Kerk blasted it without changing stride, without even knowing hehad done it. 

The decision didn't take long. Geared to swift activity, the big Pyrranfound it impossible not to decide quickly. The pacing stopped and afinger stabbed at Jason. 

"I don't say you have convinced me, but I find it impossible to find aready answer to your arguments. So until I do, we will have to operateas if they are true. Now what do you plan to do, what _can_ you do?"

Jason ticked the points off on his fingers. "One, I'll need a place tolive and work that is well protected. So instead of spending my energieson just remaining alive I can devote some study to this project. Two, Iwant someone to help me--and act as a bodyguard at the same time. Andsomeone, please, with a little more scope of interest than my presentwatchdog. I would suggest Meta for the job. "

"Meta?" Kerk was surprised. "She is a space pilot and defense-screenoperator, what good could she possibly be on a project like this?"

"The most good possible. She has had experience on other worlds and canshift her point of view--at least a bit. And she must know as much aboutthis planet as any other educated adult and can answer any questions Iask. " Jason smiled. "In addition to which she is an attractive girl, whose company I enjoy. "

Kerk grunted. "I was wondering if you would get around to mentioningthat last reason. The others make sense though, so I'm not going toargue. I'll round up a replacement for her and have Meta sent here. There are plenty of sealed buildings you can use. "

After talking to one of the assistants from the outer office, Kerk madesome calls on the screen. The correct orders were quickly issued. Jasonwatched it all with interest. 

"Pardon me for asking, " he finally said. "But are you the dictator ofthis planet? You just snap your fingers and they all jump. "

"I suppose it looks that way, " Kerk admitted. "But that is just anillusion. No one is in complete charge on Pyrrus, neither is thereanything resembling a democratic system. After all, our total populationis about the size of an army division. Everyone does the job they arebest qualified for. Various activities are separated into departmentswith the most qualified person in charge. I run Co-ordination andSupply, which is about the loosest category. We fill in the gaps betweendepartments and handle procuring from off-planet. "

 * * * * *

Meta came in then and talked to Kerk. She completely ignored Jason'spresence. "I was relieved and sent here, " she said. "What is it? Changein flight schedule?"

"You might call it that, " Kerk said. "As of now you are dismissed fromall your old assignments and assigned to a new department: Investigationand Research. That tired-looking fellow there is your department head. "

"A sense of humor, " Jason said. "The only native-born one on Pyrrus. Congratulations, there's hope for the planet yet. "

Meta glanced back and forth between them. "I don't understand. I can'tbelieve it. I mean a new department--why?"

"I'm sorry, " Kerk said. "I didn't mean to be cruel. I thought perhapsyou might feel more at ease. What I said was true. Jason has a way--ormay have a way--to be of immense value to Pyrrus. Will you help him?"

Meta had her composure back. And a little anger. "Do I have to? Is thatan order? You know I have work to do. I'm sure you will realize it ismore important than something a person from _off-planet_ might imagine. He can't really understand--"

"Yes. It's an order. " The snap was back in Kerk's voice. Meta flushed atthe tone. 

"Perhaps I can explain, " Jason broke in. "After all the whole thing ismy idea. But first I would like your co-operation. Will you take theclip out of your gun and give it to Kerk?"

Meta looked frightened, but Kerk nodded in solemn agreement. "Just for afew minutes, Meta. I have my gun so you will be safe here. I think Iknow what Jason has in mind, and from personal experience I'm afraid heis right. "

Reluctantly Meta passed over the clip and cleared the charge in thegun's chamber. Only then did Jason explain. 

"I have a theory about life on Pyrrus, and I'm afraid I'll have toshatter some illusions when I explain. To begin with, the fact must beadmitted that your people are slowly losing the war here and willeventually be destroyed--"

Before he was half through the sentence, Meta's gun was directed betweenhis eyes and she was wildly snapping the trigger. There was only hatredand revulsion in her expression. Kerk took her by the shoulders and sather in his chair, before anything worse happened. It took a while beforeshe could calm down enough to listen to Jason's words. It is not easy tohave the carefully built-up falsehoods of a lifetime shattered. Only thefact that she had seen something of other worlds enabled her to listenat all. 

The light of unreason was still in her eyes when he had finished, telling her the things he and Kerk had discussed. She sat tensely, pushed forward against Kerk's hands, as if they were the only thingsthat stopped her from leaping at Jason. 

"Maybe that is too much to assimilate at one sitting, " Jason said. "Solet's put it in simpler terms. I believe we can find a reason for thisunrelenting hatred of humans. Perhaps we don't smell right. Maybe I'llfind an essence of crushed Pyrran bugs that will render us immune whenwe rub it in. I don't know yet. But whatever the results, we _must_ makethe investigation. Kerk agrees with me on that. "

Meta looked at Kerk and he nodded agreement. Her shoulders slumped insudden defeat. She whispered the words. 

"I . . . Can't say I agree, or even understand all that you said. But I'llhelp you. If Kerk thinks that it is the right thing. "

"I do, " he said. "Now, do you want the clip back for your gun? Notplanning to take any more shots at Jason?"

"That was foolish of me, " she said coldly while she reloaded the gun. "Idon't need a gun. If I had to kill him, I could do it with my barehands. "

"I love you, too, " Jason smiled at her. "Are you ready to go now?"

"Of course. " She brushed a fluffy curl of hair into place. "First we'llfind a place where you can stay. I'll take care of that. After that thework of the new department is up to you. "

X. 

There were empty rooms in one of the computer buildings. These werecompletely sealed to keep stray animal life out of the delicatemachinery. While Meta checked a bed-roll out of stores, Jason painfullydragged a desk, table and chairs in from a nearby empty office. When shereturned with a pneumatic bed he instantly dropped on it with a gratefulsigh. Her lip curled a bit at his obvious weakness. 

"Get used to the sight, " he said. "I intend to do as much of my work asI can, while maintaining a horizontal position. You will be my strongright arm. And right now, Right Arm, I wish you could scare me upsomething to eat. I also intend to do most of my eating in thepreviously mentioned prone condition. "

Snorting with disgust, Meta stamped out. While she was gone, Jasonchewed the end of a stylus thoughtfully, then made some careful notes. 

After they had finished the almost-tasteless meal he began the search. 

"Meta, where can I find historical records of Pyrrus?"

"I've never heard of any . . . I really don't know. "

"But there has to be something--_somewhere_, " he insisted. "Even if yourpresent-day culture devotes all of its time and energies to survival, you can be sure it wasn't always that way. All the time it wasdeveloping, people were keeping records, making notes. Now where do welook? Do you have a library here?"

"Of course, " she said. "We have an excellent technical library. But I'msure there wouldn't be any of _that_ sort of thing there. "

Trying not to groan, Jason stood up. "Let me be the judge of that. Justlead the way. "

 * * * * *

Operation of the library was completely automatic. A projected indexgave the call number for any text that had to be consulted. The tapewas delivered to the charge desk thirty seconds after the number hadbeen punched. Returned tapes were dropped through a hopper and refiledautomatically. The mechanism worked smoothly. 

"Wonderful, " Jason said, pushing away from the index. "A tribute totechnological ingenuity. Only it contains nothing of any value to us. Just reams of textbooks. "

"What _else_ should be in a library?" Meta sounded sincerely puzzled. 

Jason started to explain, then changed his mind. "Later we will go intothat, " he said. "Much later. Now we have to find a lead. Is it possiblethat there are any tapes--or even printed books--that aren't filedthrough this machine?"

"It seems unlikely, but we could ask Poli. He lives here somewhere andis in charge of the library--filing new books and tending themachinery. "

The single door into the rear of the building was locked, and no amountof pounding could rouse the caretaker. 

"If he's alive, this should do it, " Jason said. He pressed theout-of-order button on the control panel. It had the desired affect. Within five minutes the door opened and Poli dragged himself through it. 

Death usually came swiftly on Pyrrus. If wounds slowed a man down, theever-ready forces of destruction quickly finished the job. Poli was theexception to this rule. Whatever had attacked him originally had done anefficient job. Most of the lower part of his face was gone. His left armwas curled and useless. The damage to his body and legs had left himwith the bare capability to stumble from one spot to the next. 

Yet he still had one good arm as well as his eyesight. He could work inthe library and relieve a fully fit man. How long he had been draggingthe useless husk of a body around the building, no one knew. In spite ofthe pain that filled his red-rimmed, moist eyes, he had stayed alive. Growing old, older than any other Pyrran as far as Jason had seen. Hetottered forward and turned off the alarm that had called him. 

When Jason started to explain the old man took no notice. Only after thelibrarian had rummaged a hearing aid out of his clothes, did Jasonrealize he was deaf as well. Jason explained again what he searched for. Poli nodded and printed his answer on a tablet. 

_there are many old books--in the storerooms below_

Most of the building was taken up by the robot filing and sortingapparatus. They moved slowly through the banks of machinery, followingthe crippled librarian to a barred door in the rear. He pointed to it. While Jason and Meta fought to open the age-incrusted bars, he wroteanother note on his tablet. 

_not opened for many years, rats_

Jason's and Meta's guns appeared reflexively in their hands as they readthe message. Jason finished opening the door by himself. The two nativePyrrans stood facing the opening gap. It was well they did. Jason couldnever have handled what came through that door. 

He didn't even open it for himself. Their sounds at the door must haveattracted all the vermin in the lower part of the building. Jason hadthrown the last bolt and started to pull on the handle--when the doorwas _pushed_ open from the other side. 

 * * * * *

Open the gateway to hell and see what comes out. Meta and Poli stoodshoulder to shoulder firing into the mass of loathsomeness that boiledthrough the door. Jason jumped to one side and picked off the occasionalanimal that came his way. The destruction seemed to go on forever. 

Long minutes passed before the last clawed beast made its death rush. Meta and Poli waited expectantly for more, they were happily excited bythis chance to deal destruction. Jason felt a little sick after thesilent ferocious attack. A ferocity that the Pyrrans reflected. He saw ascratch on Meta's face where one of the beasts had caught her. Sheseemed oblivious to it. 

Pulling out his medikit, Jason circled the piled bodies. Somethingstirred in their midst and a crashing shot ploughed into it. Then hereached the girl and pushed the analyzer probes against the scratch. Themachine clicked and Meta jumped as the antitoxin needle stabbed down. She realized for the first time what Jason was doing. 

"Thank you, " she said. 

Poli had a powerful battery lamp and, by unspoken agreement, Jasoncarried it. Crippled though he was, the old man was still a Pyrran whenit came to handling a gun. They slowly made their way down therefuse-laden stairs. 

"What a stench, " Jason grimaced. 

At the foot of the stairs they looked around. There _had_ been books andrecords there at one time. They had been systematically chewed, eatenand destroyed for decades. 

"I like the care you take with your old books, " Jason said disgustedly. 

"They could have been of no importance, " Meta said coolly, "or theywould be filed correctly in the library upstairs. "

Jason wandered gloomily through the rooms. Nothing remained of anyvalue. Fragments and scraps of writing and printing. Never enough in onespot to bother collecting. With the toe of one armored boot, he kickedangrily at a pile of debris, ready to give up the search. There was aglint of rusty metal under the dirt. 

"Hold this!" He gave the light to Meta and began scratching aside therubble. A flat metal box with a dial lock built into it, was revealed. 

"Why that's a log box!" Meta said, surprised. 

"That's what I thought, " Jason said. 

[Illustration]

XI. 

Resealing the cellar, they carried the box back to Jason's new office. Only after spraying with decontaminant, did they examine it closely. Meta picked out engraved letters on the lid. 

"S. T. POLLUX VICTORY--that must be the name of the spacer this log camefrom. But I don't recognize the class, or whatever it is the initials_S. T. _ stand for. "

"Stellar Transport, " Jason told her, as he tried the lock mechanism. "I've heard of them but I've never seen one. They were built during thelast wave of galactic expansion. Really nothing more than gigantic metalcontainers, put together in space. After they were loaded with people, machinery and supplies, they would be towed to whatever planetary systemhad been chosen. These same tugs and one-shot rockets would brake theS. T. 's in for a landing. Then leave them there. The hull was a readysource of metal and the colonists could start right in building theirnew world. And they were _big_. All of them held at least fifty thousandpeople . . . "

Only after he said it, did he realize the significance of his words. Meta's deadly stare drove it home. There were now less people on Pyrrusthan had been in the original settlement. 

And human population, without rigid birth controls, usually increasedgeometrically. Jason dinAlt suddenly remembered Meta's itchy triggerfinger. 

"But we can't be sure how many people were aboard this one, " he saidhurriedly. "Or even if this is the log of the ship that settled Pyrrus. Can you find something to pry this open with? The lock is corroded intoa single lump. "

Meta took her anger out on the box. Her fingers managed to force a gapbetween lid and bottom. She wrenched at it. Rusty metal screeched andtore. The lid came off in her hands and a heavy book thudded to thetable. 

The cover legend destroyed all doubt. 

 LOG OF S. T. POLLUX VICTORY. OUTWARD BOUND--SETANI TO PYRRUS. 55, 000 SETTLERS ABOARD. 

Meta couldn't argue now. She stood behind Jason with tight-clenchedfists and read over his shoulder as he turned the brittle, yellowedpages. He quickly skipped through the opening part that covered thesailing preparations and trip out. Only when he had reached the actuallanding did he start reading slowly. The impact of the ancient wordsleaped out at him. 

"Here it is, " Jason shouted. "Proof positive that we're on the righttrail. Even _you_ will have to admit that. Read it, right here. "

 _. . . Second day since the tugs left, we are completely on our own now. The settlers still haven't grown used to this planet, though we have orientation talks every night. As well as the morale agents who I have working twenty hours a day. I suppose I really can't blame the people, they all lived in the underways of Setani and I doubt if they saw the sun once a year. This planet has weather with a vengeance, worse than anything I've seen on a hundred other planets. Was I wrong during the original planning stages not to insist on settlers from one of the agrarian worlds? People who could handle the outdoors. _

 _These citified Setanians are afraid to go out in the rain. But of course they have adapted completely to their native 1. 5 gravity so the two gee here doesn't bother them much. That was the factor that decided us. Anyway--too late now to do anything about it. Or about the unending cycle of rain, snow, hail, hurricanes and such. Answer will be to start the mines going, sell the metals and build completely enclosed cities. _

 _The only thing on this forsaken planet that isn't actually against us are the animals. A few large predators at first, but the guards made short work of them. The rest of the wild life leaves us alone. Glad of that! They have been fighting for existence so long that I have never seen a more deadly looking collection. Even the little rodents no bigger than a man's hand are armored like tanks . . . _

"I don't believe a word of it, " Meta broke in. "That can't be Pyrrushe's writing about . . . " Her words died away as Jason wordlessly pointedto the title on the cover. 

He continued scanning the pages, flipping them quickly. A sentencecaught his eye and he stopped. Jamming his finger against the place, heread aloud. 

"'. . . And troubles keep piling up. First Har Palo with his theory thatthe vulcanism is so close to the surface that the ground keeps warm andthe crops grow so well. Even if he is right--what can we do? We must beself-dependent if we intend to survive. And now this other thing. Itseems that the forest fire drove a lot of new species our way. Animals, insects and even birds have attacked the people. (Note for Har: check ifpossible seasonal migration might explain attacks. ) There have beenfourteen deaths from wounds and poisoning. We'll have to enforce therules for insect lotion at all times. And I suppose build some kind ofperimeter defense to keep the larger beasts out of the camp. '

"This is a beginning, " Jason said. "At least now we are aware of thereal nature of the battle we're engaged in. It doesn't make Pyrrus anyeasier to handle, or make the life forms less dangerous, to know thatthey were once better disposed towards mankind. All this does is pointthe way. Something took the peaceful life forms, shook them up, andturned this planet into one big deathtrap for mankind. That _something_is what I want to uncover. "

XII. 

Further reading of the log produced no new evidence. There was a gooddeal more information about the early animal and plant life and howdeadly they were, as well as the first defenses against them. Interesting historically, but of no use whatsoever in countering themenace. The captain apparently never thought that life forms werealtering on Pyrrus, believing instead that dangerous beasts were beingdiscovered. He never lived to change his mind. The last entry in thelog, less than two months after the first attack, was very brief. Andin a different handwriting. 

 _Captain Kurkowski died today, of poisoning following an insect bite. His death is greatly mourned. _

The "why" of the planetary revulsion had yet to be uncovered. 

"Kerk must see this book, " Jason said. "He should have some idea of theprogress being made. Can we get transportation--or do we walk to cityhall?"

"Walk, of course, " Meta said. 

"Then you bring the book. At two G's I find it very hard to be agentleman and carry the packages. "

They had just entered Kerk's outer office when a shrill screaming burstout of the phone-screen. It took Jason a moment to realize that it was amechanical signal, not a human voice. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

Kerk burst through the door and headed for the street entrance. Everyoneelse in the office was going the same way. Meta looked confused, leaningtowards the door, then looking back at Jason. 

"What does it mean? Can't you tell me?" He shook her arm. 

"Sector alarm. A major breakthrough of some kind at the perimeter. Everyone but other perimeter guards has to answer. "

"Well, go then, " he said. "Don't worry about me. I'll be all right. "

His words acted like a trigger release. Meta's gun was in her hand andshe was gone before he had finished speaking. Jason sat down wearily inthe deserted office. 

The unnatural silence in the building began to get on his nerves. Heshifted his chair over to the phone-screen and switched it on to_receive_. The screen exploded with color and sound. At first Jasoncould make no sense of it at all. Just a confused jumble of faces andvoices. It was a multi-channel set designed for military use. A numberof images were carried on the screen at one time, rows of heads or hazybackgrounds where the user had left the field of view. Many of the headswere talking at the same time and the babble of their voices made nosense whatsoever. 

After examining the controls and making a few experiments, Jason beganto understand the operation. Though all stations were on the screen atall times, their audio channels could be controlled. In that way two, three or more stations could be hooked together in a link-up. They wouldbe in round-robin communication with each other, yet never out ofcontact with the other stations. 

Identification between voice and sound was automatic. Whenever one ofthe pictured images spoke, the image would glow red. By trial and errorJason brought in the audio for the stations he wanted and tried tofollow the course of the attack. 

Very quickly he realized this was something out of the ordinary. In someway, no one made it clear, a section of the perimeter had been brokenthrough and emergency defenses had to be thrown up to encapsulate it. Kerk seemed to be in charge, at least he was the only one with anoverride transmitter. He used it for general commands. The many, tinyimages faded and his face appeared on top of them, filling the entirescreen. 

"All perimeter stations send twenty-five per cent of your complement toArea Twelve. "

The small images reappeared and the babble increased, red lightsflickering from face to face. 

". . . Abandon the first floor, acid bombs can't reach. "

"If we hold we'll be cut off, but salient is past us on the west flank. Request support. "

"DON'T MERVV . . . IT'S USELESS!"

". . . And the napalm tanks are almost gone. Orders?"

"The truck is still there, get it to the supply warehouse, you'll findreplacements . . . "

 * * * * *

Out of the welter of talk, only the last two fragments made any sense. Jason had noticed the signs below when he came in. The first two floorsof the building below him were jammed with military supplies. This washis chance to get into the act. 

Just sitting and watching was frustrating. Particularly when it was adesperate emergency. He didn't overvalue his worth, but he was surethere was always room for another gun. 

By the time he had dragged himself down to the street level aturbo-truck had slammed to a stop in front of the loading platform. TwoPyrrans were rolling out drums of napalm with reckless disregard fortheir own safety. Jason didn't dare enter that maelstrom of rollingmetal. He found he could be of use tugging the heavy drums into positionon the truck while the others rolled them up. They accepted his aidwithout acknowledgment. 

It was exhausting, sweaty work, hauling the leaden drums into placeagainst the heavy gravity. After a minute Jason worked by touch througha red haze of hammering blood. He realized the job was done only whenthe truck suddenly leaped forward and he was thrown to the floor. He laythere, his chest heaving. As the driver hurled the heavy vehicle along, all Jason could do was bounce around in the bottom. He could see wellenough, but was still gasping for breath when they braked at thefighting zone. 

To Jason, it was a scene of incredible confusion. Guns firing, flames, men and women running on all sides. The napalm drums were unloadedwithout his help and the truck vanished for more. Jason leaned against awall of a half-destroyed building and tried to get his bearings. It wasimpossible. There seemed to be a great number of small animals: hekilled two that attacked him. Other than that he couldn't determine thenature of the battle. 

A Pyrran, tan face white with pain and exertion, stumbled up. His rightarm, wet with raw flesh and dripping blood, hung limply at his side. Itwas covered with freshly applied surgical foam. He held his gun in hisleft hand, a stump of control cable dangling from it. Jason thought theman was looking for medical aid. He couldn't have been more wrong. 

Clenching the gun in his teeth, the Pyrran clutched a barrel of napalmwith his good hand and hurled it over on its side. Then, with the gunonce more in his hand, he began to roll the drum along the ground withhis feet. It was slow, cumbersome work, but he was still in the fight. 

Jason pushed through the hurrying crowd and bent over the drum. "Let medo it, " he said. "You can cover us both with your gun. "

The man wiped the sweat from his eyes with the back of his arm andblinked at Jason. He seemed to recognize him. When he smiled it was agrimace of pain, empty of humor. "Do that. I can still shoot. Two halfmen--maybe we equal one whole. " Jason was laboring too hard to evennotice the insult. 

 * * * * *

An explosion had blasted a raw pit in the street ahead. Two people wereat the bottom, digging it even deeper with shovels. The whole thingseemed meaningless. Just as Jason and the wounded man rolled up the drumthe diggers leaped out of the excavation and began shooting down intoits depths. One of them turned, a young girl, barely in her teens. 

"Praise Perimeter!" she breathed. "They found the napalm. One of the newhorrors is breaking through towards Thirteen, we just found it. " Even asshe talked she swiveled the drum around, kicked the easy-off plug, andbegan dumping the gelid contents into the hole. When half of it hadgurgled down, she kicked the drum itself in. Her companion pulled aflare from his belt, lit it, and threw it after the drum. 

[Illustration]

"Back quick. They don't like heat, " he said. 

This was putting it very mildly. The napalm caught, tongues of flame androiling, greasy smoke climbed up to the sky. Under Jason's feet theearth shifted and moved. _Something_ black and long stirred in the heartof the flame, then arched up into the sky over their heads. In the midstof the searing heat it still moved with alien, jolting motions. It wasimmense, at least two meters thick and with no indication of its length. The flames didn't stop it at all, just annoyed it. 

Jason had some idea of the thing's length as the street cracked andbuckled for fifty meters on each side of the pit. Great loops of thecreature began to emerge from the ground. He fired his gun, as did theothers. Not that it seemed to have any effect. More and more people wereappearing, armed with a variety of weapons. Flame-throwers and grenadesseemed to be the most effective. 

"_Clear the area . . . We're going to saturate it. Fall back. _"

The voice was so loud it jarred Jason's ear. He turned and recognizedKerk, who had arrived with truckloads of equipment. He had a powerspeaker on his back, the mike hung in front of his lips. His amplifiedvoice brought an instant reaction from the crowd. They began to move. 

There was still doubt in Jason's mind what to do. Clear the area? Butwhat area? He started towards Kerk, before he realized that the rest ofthe Pyrrans were going in the opposite direction. Even under twogravities they _moved_. 

Jason had a naked feeling of being alone on the stage. He was in thecenter of the street, and the others had vanished. No one remained. Except the wounded man Jason had helped. He stumbled towards Jason, waving his good arm. Jason couldn't understand what he said. Kerk wasshouting orders again from one of the trucks. They had started to movetoo. The urgency struck home and Jason started to run. 

It was too late. On all sides the earth was buckling, cracking, as moreloops of the underground thing forced its way into the light. Safety layahead. Only in front of it rose an arch of dirt-encrusted gray. 

 * * * * *

There are seconds of time that seem to last an eternity. A moment ofsubjective time that is grabbed and stretched to an infinite distance. This was one of those moments. Jason stood, frozen. Even the smoke inthe sky hung unmoving. The high-standing loop of alien life was beforehim, every detail piercingly clear. 

Thick as a man, ribbed and gray as old bark. Tendrils projected from allparts of it, pallid and twisting lengths that writhed slowly withsnakelike life. Shaped like a plant, yet with the motions of an animal. And cracking, splitting. This was the worst. 

Seams and openings appeared. Splintering, gaping mouths that vomited outa horde of pallid animals. Jason heard their shriekings, shrill yetremote. He saw the needlelike teeth that lined their jaws. 

The paralysis of the unknown held him there. He should have died. Kerkwas thundering at him through the power speaker, others were firing intothe attacking creature. Jason knew nothing. 

Then he was shot forward, pushed by a rock-hard shoulder. The woundedman was still there, trying to get Jason clear. Gun clenched in his jawshe dragged Jason along with his good arm. Towards the creature. Theothers stopped firing. They saw his plan and it was a good one. 

A loop of the thing arched into the air, leaving an opening between itsbody and the ground. The wounded Pyrran planted his feet and tightenedhis muscles. One-handed, with a single thrust, he picked Jason off theground and sent him hurtling under the living arch. Moving tendrilsbrushed fire along his face, then he was through, rolling over and overon the ground. The wounded Pyrran leaped after him. 

It was too late. There had been a chance for one person to get out. ThePyrran could have done it easily--instead he had pushed Jason first. Thething was aware of movement when Jason brushed its tendrils. It droppedand caught the wounded man under its weight. He vanished from sight asthe tendrils wrapped around him and the animals swarmed over. Histrigger must have pulled back to full automatic because the gun keptfiring a long time after he should have been dead. 

Jason crawled. Some of the fanged animals ran towards him, but wereshot. He knew nothing about this. Then rude hands grabbed him up andpulled him forward. He slammed into the side of a truck and Kerk's facewas in front of his, flushed and angry. One of the giant fists closed onthe front of Jason's clothes and he was lifted off his feet, shaken likea limp bag of rags. He offered no protest and could not have even ifKerk had killed him. 

When he was thrown to the ground, someone picked him up and slid himinto the back of the truck. He did not lose consciousness as the truckbounced away, yet he could not move. In a moment the fatigue would goaway and he would sit up. That was all he was, just a little tired. Evenas he thought this he passed out. 

XIII. 

"Just like old times, " Jason said when Brucco came into the room with atray of food. Without a word Brucco served Jason and the wounded men inthe other beds, then left. "Thanks, " Jason called after his retreatingback. 

A joke, a twist of a grin, like it always was. Sure. But even as hegrinned and his lips shaped a joke, Jason felt them like a veneer onthe outside. Something plastered on with a life of its own. Inside hewas numb and immovable. His body was stiff as his eyes still watchedthat arch of alien flesh descend and smother the one-armed Pyrran withits million burning fingers. 

He could feel himself under the arch. After all, hadn't the wounded mantaken his place? He finished the meal without realizing that he ate. 

Ever since that morning, when he had recovered consciousness, it hadbeen like this. He knew that he should have died out there in thatbattle-torn street. _His_ life should have been snuffed out, for makingthe mistake of thinking that he could actually help the battlingPyrrans. Instead of being underfoot and in the way. If it hadn't beenfor Jason, the man with the wounded arm would have been brought here tothe safety of the reorientation buildings. He knew he was lying in thebed that belonged to that man. 

The man who had given his life for Jason's. 

The man whose name he didn't even know. 

There were drugs in the food and they made him sleep. The medicated padssoaked the pain and rawness out of the burns where the tentacles hadseared his face. When he awoke the second time, his touch with realityhad been restored. 

A man had died so he could live. Jason faced the fact. He couldn'trestore that life, no matter how much he wanted to. What he could do wasmake the man's death worth while. If it can be said that any death wasworth while . . . He forced his thoughts from that track. 

Jason knew what he had to do. His work was even more important now. Ifhe could solve the riddle of this deadly world, he could repay in partthe debt he owed. 

Sitting up made his head spin and he held to the edge of the bed untilit slowed down. The others in the room ignored him as he slowly andpainfully dragged on his clothes. Brucco came in, saw what he was doing, and left again without a word. 

Dressing took a long time, but it was finally done. When Jason finallyleft the room he found Kerk waiting for him. 

"Kerk . . . I want to tell you . . . "

"Tell me _nothing_!" The thunder of Kerk's voice bounced back from theceiling and walls. "I'm telling _you_. I'll tell you once and that willbe the end of it. You're not wanted on Pyrrus, Jason dinAlt, neither younor your precious off-world schemes are wanted here. I let you convinceme once with your twisted tongue. Helped you at the expense of moreimportant work. I should have known what the result of your 'logic'would be. Now I've seen. Welf died so you could live. He was twice theman you will ever be. "

"Welf? Was that his name?" Jason asked stumblingly. "I didn't know--"

"You didn't even know. " Kerk's lips pulled back from his teeth in agrimace of disgust. "You didn't even know his name--yet he died thatyou might continue your miserable existence. " Kerk spat, as if the wordsgave a vile flavor to his speech, and stamped towards the exit lock. Almost as an afterthought he turned back to Jason. 

"You'll stay here in the sealed buildings until the ship returns in twoweeks. Then you will leave this planet and never come back. If you do, I'll kill you instantly. With pleasure. " He started through the lock. 

"Wait, " Jason shouted. "You can't decide like that. You haven't evenseen the evidence I've uncovered. Ask Meta--" The lock thumped shut andKerk was gone. 

 * * * * *

The whole thing was just too stupid. Anger began to replace the futiledespair of a moment before. He was being treated like an irresponsiblechild, the importance of his discovery of the log completely ignored. 

Jason turned and saw for the first time that Brucco was standing there. "Did you hear that?" Jason asked him. 

"Yes. And I quite agree. You can consider yourself lucky. "

"Lucky!" Jason was the angry one now. "Lucky to be treated like amoronic child, with contempt for everything I do--"

"I said lucky, " Brucco snapped. "Welf was Kerk's only surviving son. Kerk had high hopes for him, was training him to take his placeeventually. " He turned to leave but Jason called after him. 

"Wait. I'm sorry about Welf. I can't be any sorrier knowing that he wasKerk's son. But at least it explains why Kerk is so quick to throw meout--as well as the evidence I have uncovered. The log of the ship--"

"I know, I've seen it, " Brucco said. "Meta brought it in. Veryinteresting historical document. "

"That's all you can see it as--an historical document? The significanceof the planetary change escapes you?"

"It doesn't escape me, " Brucco answered briefly, "but I cannot see thatit has any relevancy today. The past is unchangeable and we must fightin the present. That is enough to occupy all our energies. "

Jason felt too exhausted to argue the point any more. He ran into thesame stone wall with all the Pyrrans. Theirs was a logic of the moment. The past and the future unchangeable, unknowable--and uninteresting. "How is the perimeter battle going?" he asked, wanting to change thesubject. 

"Finished. Or in the last stages at least, " Brucco was almostenthusiastic as he showed Jason some stereos of the attackers. He didnot notice Jason's repressed shudder. 

"This was one of the most serious breakthroughs in years, but we caughtit in time. I hate to think what would have happened if they hadn't beendetected for a few weeks more. "

"What are those things?" Jason asked. "Giant snakes of some kind?"

"Don't be absurd, " Brucco snorted. He tapped the stereo with histhumbnail. "Roots. That's all. Greatly modified, but still roots. Theycame in under the perimeter barrier, much deeper than anything we've hadbefore. Not a real threat in themselves as they have very littlemobility. Die soon after being cut. The danger came from their beingused as access tunnels. They're bored through and through with animalruns, and two or three species of beasts live in a sort of symbiosisinside. 

"Now we know what they are we can watch for them. The danger was theycould have completely undermined the perimeter and come in from allsides at once. Not much we could have done then. "

[Illustration]

The edge of destruction. Living on the lip of a volcano. The Pyrranstook satisfaction from any day that passed without total annihilation. There seemed no way to change their attitude. Jason let the conversationdie there. He picked up the log of the _Pollux Victory_ from Brucco'squarters and carried it back to his room. The wounded Pyrrans thereignored him as he dropped onto the bed and opened the book to the firstpage. 

For two days he did not leave his quarters. The wounded men were soongone and he had the room to himself. Page by page he went through thelog, until he knew every detail of the settlement of Pyrrus. His notesand cross-references piled up. He made an accurate map of the originalsettlement, superimposed over a modern one. They didn't match at all. 

It was a dead end. With one map held over the other, what he hadsuspected was painfully clear. The descriptions of terrain and physicalfeatures in the log were accurate enough. The city had obviously beenmoved since the first landing. Whatever records had been kept would bein the library--and he had exhausted that source. Anything else wouldhave been left behind and long since destroyed. 

Rain lashed against the thick window above his head, lit suddenly by aflare of lightning. The unseen volcanoes were active again, vibratingthe floor with their rumblings deep in the earth. 

The shadow of defeat pressed heavily down on Jason. Rounding hisshoulders and darkening, even more, the overcast day. 

XIV. 

Jason spent one depressed day lying on his bunk counting rivets, forcinghimself to accept defeat. Kerk's order that he was not to leave thesealed building tied his hands completely. He felt himself close to theanswer--but he was never going to get it. 

One day of defeat was all he could take. Kerk's attitude was completelyemotional, untempered by the slightest touch of logic. This fact keptdriving home until Jason could no longer ignore it. Emotional reasoningwas something he had learned to mistrust early in life. He couldn'tagree with Kerk in the slightest--which meant he had to utilize the tenremaining days to solve the problem. If it meant disobeying Kerk, itwould still have to be done. 

He grabbed up his noteplate with a new enthusiasm. His first sources ofinformation had been used up, but there must be others. Chewing thescriber and needling his brain, he slowly built up a list of otherpossibilities. Any idea, no matter how wild, was put down. When theplate was filled he wiped the long shots and impossibles--such asconsulting off-world historical records. This was a Pyrran problem, andhad to be settled on this planet or not at all. 

The list worked down to two probables. Either old records, notebooks ordiaries that individual Pyrrans might have in their possession, orverbal histories that had been passed down the generations by word ofmouth. The first choice seemed to be the most probable and he acted onit at once. After a careful check of his medikit and gun he went to seeBrucco. 

"What's new and deadly in the world since I left?" he asked. 

Brucco glared at him. "You can't go out, Kerk has forbidden it. "

"Did he put you in charge of guarding me to see if I obeyed?" Jason'svoice was quiet and cold. 

Brucco rubbed his jaw and frowned in thought. Finally he just shrugged. "No, I'm not guarding you--nor do I want the job. As far as I know thisis between you and Kerk and it can stay that way. Leave whenever youwant. And get yourself killed quietly some place so there will be an endto the trouble you cause once and for all. "

"I love you, too, " Jason said. "Now brief me on the wildlife. "

The only new mutation that routine precautions wouldn't take care of wasa slate-colored lizard that spit a fast nerve poison with deadlyaccuracy. Death took place in seconds if the saliva touched any bareskin. The lizards had to be looked out for, and shot before they camewithin range. An hour of lizard-blasting in a training chamber made himproficient in the exact procedure. 

 * * * * *

Jason left the sealed buildings quietly and no one saw him go. Hefollowed the map to the nearest barracks, shuffling tiredly through thedusty streets. It was a hot, quiet afternoon, broken only by rumblingsfrom the distance, and the occasional crack of his gun. 

It was cool inside the thick-walled barracks buildings, and he collapsedonto a bench until the sweat dried and his heart stopped pounding. Thenhe went to the nearest recreation room to start his search. 

Before it began it was finished. None of the Pyrrans kept old artifactsof any kind and thought the whole idea was very funny. After thetwentieth negative answer Jason was ready to admit defeat in this lineof investigation. There was as much chance of meeting a Pyrran with olddocuments as finding a bundle of grandfather's letters in a soldier'skit bag. 

This left a single possibility--verbal histories. Again Jason questionedwith the same lack of results. The fun had worn off the game for thePyrrans and they were beginning to growl. Jason stopped while he wasstill in one piece. The commissary served him a meal that tasted likeplastic paste and wood pulp. He ate it quickly, then sat brooding overthe empty tray, hating to admit to another dead end. Who could supplyhim with answers? All the people he had talked to were so young. Theyhad no interest or patience for story-telling. That was an old folks'hobby--and there were no oldsters on Pyrrus. 

With one exception that he knew of, the librarian, Poli. It was apossibility. A man who worked with records and books might have aninterest in some of the older ones. He might even remember readingvolumes now destroyed. A very slim lead indeed, but one that had to bepursued. 

Walking to the library almost killed Jason. The torrential rains madethe footing bad, and in the dim light it was hard to see what wascoming. A snapper came in close enough to take out a chunk of fleshbefore he could blast it. The antitoxin made him dizzy and he lost someblood before he could get the wound dressed. He reached the library, exhausted and angry. 

Poli was working on the guts of one of the catalogue machines. He didn'tstop until Jason had tapped him on the shoulder. Switching on hishearing aid, the Pyrran stood quietly, crippled and bent, waiting forJason to talk. 

"Have you any old papers or letters that you have kept for your personaluse?"

A shake of the head, _no_. 

"What about stories--you know, about great things that have happened inthe past, that someone might have told you when you were young?"Negative. 

Results negative. Every question was answered by a shake of Poli's head, and very soon the old man grew irritated and pointed to the work hehadn't finished. 

"Yes, I know you have work to do, " Jason said. "But this is important. "Poli shook his head an angry _no_ and reached to turn off his hearingaid. Jason groped for a question that might get a more positive answer. There was something tugging at his mind, a word he had heard and made anote of, to be investigated later. Something that Kerk had said . . . 

"That's it!" It was right there--on the tip of his tongue. "Just asecond, Poli, just one more question. What is a 'grubber'? Have you everseen one or know what they do, or where they can be found--"

The words were cut off as Poli whirled and lashed the back of his goodarm into Jason's face. Though the man was aged and crippled, the blowalmost fractured Jason's jaw, sending him sliding across the floor. Through a daze he saw Poli hobbling towards him, making thick bubblingnoises in his ruined throat; what remained of his face twisted andworking with anger. 

This was no time for diplomacy. Moving as fast as he could, with thehigh-G, foot-slapping shuffle, Jason headed for the sealed door. He wasno match for any Pyrran in hand-to-hand combat, young and small or oldand crippled. The door thunked open, as he went through, and barelyclosed in Poli's face. 

Outside the rain had turned to snow and Jason trudged wearily throughthe slush, rubbing his sore jaw and turning over the only fact he had. _Grubber_ was a key--but to what? And who did he dare ask for moreinformation? Kerk was the man he had talked to best, but not any more. That left only Meta as a possible source. He wanted to see her at once, but sudden exhaustion swept through him. It took all of his strength tostumble back to the school buildings. 

 * * * * *

In the morning he ate and left early. There was only a week left. It wasimpossible to hurry and he cursed as he dragged his double-weight bodyto the assignment center. Meta was on night perimeter duty and shouldbe back to her quarters soon. He shuffled over there and was lying onher bunk when she came in. 

"Get out, " she said in a flat voice. "Or do I throw you out?"

"Patience, please, " he said as he sat up. "Just resting here until youcame back. I have a single question, and if you will answer it for meI'll go and stop bothering you. "

"What is it?" she asked, tapping her foot with impatience. But there wasalso a touch of curiosity in her voice. Jason thought carefully beforehe spoke. 

"Now _please_, don't shoot me. You know I'm an off-worlder with a bigmouth, and you have heard me say some awful things without taking a shotat me. Now I have another one. Will you please show your superiority tothe other people of the galaxy by holding your temper and not reducingme to component atoms?"

His only answer was a tap of the foot, so he took a deep breath andplunged in. 

"What is a 'grubber'?"

For a long moment she was quiet, unmoving. Then she curled her lips backin disgust. "You find the most repulsive topics. "

"That may be so, " he said, "but it still doesn't answer my question. "

"It's . . . Well, the sort of thing people just don't talk about. "

"I do, " he assured her. 

"Well, I _don't_! It's the most disgusting thing in the world, andthat's all I'm going to say. Talk to Krannon, but not to me. " She hadhim by the arm while she talked and he was half dragged to the hall. Thedoor slammed behind him and he muttered "_lady wrestler_" under hisbreath. His anger ebbed away as he realized that she had given him aclue in spite of herself. Next step, find out who or what Krannon was. 

Assignment center listed a man named Krannon, and gave his shift numberand work location. It was close by and Jason walked there. A large, cubical, and windowless building, with the single word _food_ next toeach of the sealed entrances. The small entrance he went through was aseries of automatic chambers that cycled him through ultrasonics, ultraviolet, antibio spray, rotating brushes and three final rinses. Hewas finally admitted, damper but much cleaner to the central area. Menand robots were stacking crates and he asked one of the men for Krannon. The man looked him up and down coldly and spat on his shoes beforeanswering. 

Krannon worked in a large storage bay by himself. He was a stocky man inpatched coveralls whose only expression was one of intense gloom. WhenJason came in he stopped hauling bales and sat down on the nearest one. The lines of unhappiness were cut into his face and seemed to growdeeper while Jason explained what he was after. All the talk of ancienthistory on Pyrrus bored him as well and he yawned openly. When Jasonfinished he yawned again and didn't even bother to answer him. 

[Illustration]

Jason waited a moment, then asked again. "I said do you have any oldbooks, papers, records or that sort of thing?"

"You sure picked the right guy to bother, off-worlder, " was his onlyanswer. "After talking to me you're going to have nothing but trouble. "

"Why is that?" Jason asked. 

"Why?" For the first time he was animated with something besides grief. "I'll tell you why! I made one mistake, just one, and I get a lifesentence. For life--how would you like that? Just me alone, being bymyself all the time. Even taking orders from the grubbers. "

Jason controlled himself, keeping the elation out of his voice. "Grubbers? What are grubbers?"

The enormity of the question stopped Krannon, it seemed impossible thatthere could be a man alive who had never heard of grubbers. Happinesslifted some of the gloom from his face as he realized that he had acaptive audience who would listen to his troubles. 

"Grubbers are traitors--that's what they are. Traitors to the human raceand they ought to be wiped out. Living in the jungle. The things they dowith the animals--"

"You mean they're people . . . Pyrrans like yourself?" Jason broke in. 

"Not like _me_, mister. Don't make that mistake again if you want to goon living. Maybe I dozed off on guard once so I got stuck with this job. That doesn't mean I like it or like them. They stink, really stink, andif it wasn't for the food we get from them they'd all be dead tomorrow. That's the kind of killing job I could really put my heart into. "

"If they supply you with food, you must give them something in return?"

"Trade goods, beads, knives, the usual things. Supply sends them over incartons and I take care of the delivery. "

"How?" Jason asked. 

"By armored truck to the delivery site. Then I go back later to pick upthe food they've left in exchange. "

"Can I go with you on the next delivery?"

Krannon frowned over the idea for a minute. "Yeah, I suppose it's allright if you're stupid enough to come. You can help me load. They'rebetween harvests now, so the next trip won't be for eight days--"

"But that's after the ship leaves--it'll be too late. Can't you goearlier?"

"Don't tell me your troubles, mister, " Krannon grumbled, climbing to hisfeet. "That's when I go and the date's not changing for you. "

Jason realized he had got as much out of the man as was possible for onesession. He started for the door, then turned. 

"One thing, " he asked. "Just what do these savages--the grubbers--looklike?"

"How do I know, " Krannon snapped. "I trade with them, I don't make loveto them. If I ever saw one, I'd shoot him down on the spot. " He flexedhis fingers and his gun jumped in and out of his hand as he said it. Jason quietly let himself out. 

Lying on his bunk, resting his gravity-weary body, he searched for a wayto get Krannon to change the delivery date. His millions of credits wereworthless on this world without currency. If the man couldn't beconvinced, he had to be bribed. With what? Jason's eyes touched thelocker where his off-world clothing still hung, and he had an idea. 

It was morning before he could return to the food warehouse--and one daycloser to his deadline. Krannon didn't bother to look up from his workwhen Jason came in. 

"Do you want this?" Jason asked, handing the outcast a flat gold caseinset with a single large diamond. Krannon grunted and turned it over inhis hands. 

"A toy, " he said. "What is it good for?"

"Well, when you press this button you get a light. " A flame appearedthrough a hole in the top. Krannon started to hand it back. 

"What do I need a little fire for? Here, keep it. "

"Wait a second, " Jason said, "that's not all it does. When you press thejewel in the center one of these comes out. " A black pellet the size ofhis fingernail dropped into his palm. "A grenade, made of solidulranite. Just squeeze it hard and throw. Three seconds later itexplodes with enough force to blast open this building. "

This time Krannon almost smiled as he reached for the case. Destructiveand death-dealing weapons are like candy to a Pyrran. While he looked atit Jason made his offer. 

"The case and bombs are yours if you move the date of your next deliveryup to tomorrow--and let me go with you. "

"Be here at 0500, " Krannon said. "We leave early. "

XV. 

The truck rumbled up to the perimeter gate and stopped. Krannon waved tothe guards through the front window, then closed a metal shield over it. When the gates swung open the truck--really a giant armored tank--groundslowly forward. There was a second gate beyond the first, that did notopen until the interior one was closed. Jason looked through thesecond-driver's periscope as the outer gate lifted. Automaticflame-throwers flared through the opening, cutting off only when thetruck reached them. A scorched area ringed the gate, beyond that thejungle began. Unconsciously Jason shrank back in his seat. 

All the plants and animals he had seen only specimens of, existed herein profusion. Thorn-ringed branches and vines laced themselves into asolid mat, through which the wild life swarmed. A fury of sound hurledat them, thuds and scratchings rang on the armor. Krannon laughed andclosed the switch that electrified the outer grid. The scratchings diedaway as the beasts completed the circuit to the grounded hull. 

It was slow-speed, low-gear work tearing through the jungle. Krannon hadhis face buried in the periscope mask and silently fought the controls. With each mile the going seemed to get better, until he finally swung upthe periscope and opened the window armor. The jungle was still thickand deadly, but nothing like the area immediately around the perimeter. It appeared as if most of the lethal powers of Pyrrus were concentratedin the single area around the settlement. Why? Jason asked himself. Whythis intense and planetary hatred?

The motors died and Krannon stood up, stretching. "We're here, " he said. "Let's unload. "

There was bare rock around the truck, a rounded hillock that projectedfrom the jungle, too smooth and steep for vegetation to get a hold. Krannon opened the cargo hatches and they pushed out the boxes andcrates. When they finished Jason slumped down, exhausted, onto the pile. 

"Get back in, we're leaving, " Krannon said. 

"You are, I'm staying right here. "

Krannon looked at him coldly. "Get in the truck or I'll kill you. No onestays out here. For one thing you couldn't live an hour alone. But worsethan that the grubbers would get you. Kill you at once, of course, butthat's not important. But you have equipment that we can't allow intotheir hands. You want to see a grubber with a gun?"

While the Pyrran talked, Jason's thoughts had rushed ahead. He hopedthat Krannon was as thick of head as he was fast of reflex. 

Jason looked at the trees, let his gaze move up through the thickbranches. Though Krannon was still talking, he was automatically awareof Jason's attention. When Jason's eyes widened and his gun jumped intohis hand, Krannon's own gun appeared and he turned in the samedirection. 

"There--in the top!" Jason shouted, and fired into the tangle ofbranches. Krannon fired, too. As soon as he did, Jason hurled himselfbackwards, curled into a ball, rolling down the inclined rock. The shotshad covered the sounds of his movements, and before Krannon could turnback the gravity had dragged him down the rock into the thick foliage. Crashing branches slapped at him, but slowed his fall. When he stoppedmoving he was lost in the tangle. Krannon's shots came too late to hithim. 

Lying there, tired and bruised, Jason heard the Pyrran cursing him out. He stamped around on the rock, fired a few shots, but knew better thanto enter the trees. Finally he gave up and went back to the truck. Themotor gunned into life and the treads clanked and scraped down the rockand back into the jungle. There were muted rumblings and crashes thatslowly died away. 

Then Jason was alone. 

 * * * * *

Up until that instant he hadn't realized quite how alone he would be. Surrounded by nothing but death, the truck already vanished from sight. He had to force down an overwhelming desire to run after it. What wasdone was done. 

This was a long chance to take, but it was the only way to contact thegrubbers. They were savages, but still they had come from human stock. And they hadn't sunk so low as to stop the barter with the civilizedPyrrans. He had to contact them, befriend them. Find out how they hadmanaged to live safely on this madhouse world. 

If there had been another way to lick the problem, he would have takenit; he didn't relish the role of martyred hero. But Kerk and hisdeadline had forced his hand. The contact had to be made fast and thiswas the only way. 

There was no telling where the savages were, or how soon they wouldarrive. If the woods weren't too lethal he could hide there, pick histime to approach them. If they found him among the supplies, they mightskewer him on the spot with a typical Pyrran reflex. 

Walking warily he approached the line of trees. Something moved ona branch, but vanished as he came near. None of the plants near athick-trunked tree looked poisonous, so he slipped behind it. There wasnothing deadly in sight and it surprised him. He let his body relax abit, leaning against the rough bark. 

Something soft and choking fell over his head, his body was seized in asteel grip. The more he struggled the tighter it held him until theblood thundered in his ears and his lungs screamed for air. 

Only when he grew limp did the pressure let up. His first panic ebbed alittle when he realized that it wasn't an animal that attacked him. Heknew nothing about the grubbers, but they were human so he still had achance. 

His arms and legs were tied, the power holster ripped from his arm. Hefelt strangely naked without it. The powerful hands grabbed him againand he was hurled into the air, to fall face down across something warmand soft. Fear pressed in again, it was a large animal of some kind. Andall Pyrran animals were deadly. 

When the animal moved off, carrying him, panic was replaced by a feelingof mounting elation. The grubbers had managed to work out a truce ofsome kind with at least one form of animal life. He had to find out how. If he could get that secret--and get it back to the city--it wouldjustify all his work and pain. It might even justify Welf's death if theage-old war could be slowed or stopped. 

Jason's tightly bound limbs hurt terribly at first, but grew numb withthe circulation shut off. The jolting ride continued endlessly, he hadno way of measuring the time. A rainfall soaked him, then he felt hisclothes steaming as the sun came out. 

The ride was finally over. He was pulled from the animal's back anddumped down. His arms dropped free as someone loosed the bindings. Thereturning circulation soaked him in pain as he lay there, struggling tomove. When his hands finally obeyed him he lifted them to his face andstripped away the covering, a sack of thick fur. Light blinded him as hesucked in breath after breath of clean air. 

Blinking against the glare, he looked around. He was lying on a floor ofcrude planking, the setting sun shining into his eyes through thedoorless entrance of the building. There was a ploughed field outside, stretching down the curve of hill to the edge of the jungle. It was toodark to see much inside the hut. 

Something blocked the light of the doorway, a tall animallike figure. On second look Jason realized it was a man with long hair and thickbeard. He was dressed in furs, even his legs were wrapped in furleggings. His eyes were fixed on his captive, while one hand fondled anax that hung from his waist. 

"Who're you? What y'want?" the bearded man asked suddenly. 

Jason picked his words slowly, wondering if this savage shared the samehair-trigger temper as the city dwellers. 

"My name is Jason. I come in peace. I want to be your friend . . . "

"Lies!" the man grunted, and pulled the ax from his belt. "Junkmantricks. I saw y'hide. Wait to kill me. Kill you first. " He tested theedge of the blade with a horny thumb, then raised it. 

"Wait!" Jason said desperately. "You don't understand. "

The ax swung down. 

"I'm from off-world and--"

A solid thunk shook him as the ax buried itself in the wood next to hishead. At the last instant the man had twitched it aside. He grabbed thefront of Jason's clothes and pulled him up until their faces touched. 

"S'true?" he shouted. "Y'from off-world?" His hand opened and Jasondropped back before he could answer. The savage jumped over him, towardsthe dim rear of the hut. 

"Rhes must know of this, " he said as he fumbled with something on thewall. Light sprang out. 

All Jason could do was stare. The hairy, fur-covered savage wasoperating a communicator. The calloused, dirt-encrusted fingers deftlysnapped open the circuits, dialed a number. 

XVI. 

It made no sense. Jason tried to reconcile the modern machine with thebarbarian and couldn't. Who was he calling? The existence of onecommunicator meant there was at least another. Was Rhes a person or athing?

With a mental effort he grabbed hold of his thoughts and braked them toa stop. There was something new here, factors he hadn't counted on. Hekept reassuring himself there was an explanation for everything, onceyou had your facts straight. 

Jason closed his eyes, shutting out the glaring rays of the sun where itcut through the tree tops, and reconsidered his facts. They separatedevenly into two classes; those he had observed for himself, and those hehad learned from the city dwellers. This last class of "facts" he wouldhold, to see if they fitted with what he learned. There was a goodchance that most, or all, of them would prove false. 

"Get up, " the voice jarred into his thoughts. "We're leaving. "

His legs were still numb and hardly usable. The bearded man snorted indisgust and hauled him to his feet, propping him against the outer wall. Jason clutched the knobby bark of the logs when he was left alone. Helooked around, soaking up impressions. 

It was the first time he had been on a farm since he had run away fromhome. A different world with a different ecology, but the similarity wasapparent enough to him. A new-sown field stretched down the hill infront of the shack. Ploughed by a good farmer. Even, well cast furrowsthat followed the contour of the slope. Another, larger log building wasnext to this one, probably a barn. 

There was a snuffling sound behind him and Jason turned quickly--andfroze. His hand called for the missing gun and his finger tightened downon a trigger that wasn't there. 

It had come out of the jungle and padded up quietly behind him. It hadsix thick legs with clawed feet that dug into the ground. The two-meterlong body was covered with matted yellow and black fur, all except theskull and shoulders. These were covered with overlapping horny plates. Jason could see all this because the beast was that close. 

He waited to die. 

The mouth opened, a froglike division of the hairless skull, revealingdouble rows of jagged teeth. 

"Here, Fido, " the bearded man said, coming up behind Jason and snappinghis fingers at the same time. The thing bounded forward, brushing pastthe dazed Jason, and rubbed his head against the man's leg. "Nicedoggy, " the man said, his fingers scratching under the edge of thecarapace where it joined the flesh. 

The bearded man had brought two of the riding animals out of the barn, saddled and bridled. Jason barely noticed the details of smooth skin andlong legs as he swung up on one. His feet were quickly lashed to thestirrups. When they started the skull-headed beast followed them. 

"Nice doggy!" Jason said, and for no reason started to laugh. Thebearded man turned and scowled at him until he was quiet. 

 * * * * *

By the time they entered the jungle it was dark. It was impossible tosee under the thick foliage, and they used no lights. The animals seemedto know the way. There were scraping noises and shrill calls from thejungle around them, but it didn't bother Jason too much. Perhaps theautomatic manner in which the other man undertook the journey reassuredhim. Or the presence of the "dog" that he felt rather than saw. The tripwas a long one, but not too uncomfortable. 

The regular motion of the animal and his fatigue overcame Jason and hedozed into a fitful sleep, waking with a start each time he slumpedforward. In the end he slept sitting up in the saddle. Hours passed thisway, until he opened his eyes and saw a square of light before them. Thetrip was over. 

His legs were stiff and galled with saddle sores. After his feet wereuntied getting down was an effort, and he almost fell. A door openedand Jason went in. It took his eyes some moments to get used to thelight, until he could make out the form of a man on the bed before him. 

[Illustration]

"Come over here and sit down. " The voice was full and strong, accustomedto command. The body was that of an invalid. A blanket covered him tothe waist, above that the flesh was sickly white, spotted with rednodules, and hung loosely over the bones. There seemed to be nothingleft of the man except skin and skeleton. 

"Not very nice, " the man on the bed said, "but I've grown used to it. "His tone changed abruptly. "Naxa said you were from off-world. Is thattrue?"

Jason nodded yes, and his answer stirred the living skeleton to life. The head lifted from the pillow and the red-rimmed eyes sought his witha desperate intensity. 

"My name is Rhes and I'm a . . . Grubber. Will you help me?"

Jason wondered at the intensity of Rhes' question, all out of proportionto the simple content of its meaning. Yet he could see no reason to giveanything other than the first and obvious answer that sprang to hislips. 

"Of course I'll help you, in whatever way I can. As long as it involvesno injury to anyone else. What do you want?"

The sick man's head had fallen back limply, exhausted, as Jason talked. But the fire still burned in the eyes. 

"Feel assured . . . I want to injure no others, " Rhes said. "Quite theopposite. As you see I am suffering from a disease that our remedieswill not stop. Within a few more days I will be dead. Now I haveseen . . . The city people . . . Using a device, they press it over awound or an animal bite. Do you have one of these machines?"

"That sounds like a description of the medikit. " Jason touched thebutton at his waist that dropped the medikit into his hand. "I have minehere. It analyzes and treats most . . . "

"Would you use it on me?" Rhes broke in, his voice suddenly urgent. 

"I'm sorry, " Jason said. "I should have realized. " He stepped forwardand pressed the machine over one of the inflamed areas on Rhes' chest. The operation light came on and the thin shaft of the analyzer probeslid down. When it withdrew the device hummed, then clicked three timesas three separate hypodermic needles lanced into the skin. Then thelight went out. 

"Is that all?" Rhes asked, as he watched Jason stow the medikit back inhis belt. 

Jason nodded, then looked up and noticed the wet marks of tears on thesick man's face. Rhes became aware at the same time and brushed at themangrily. 

"When a man is sick, " he growled, "the body and all its senses becometraitor. I don't think I have cried since I was a child--but you mustrealize it's not myself I'm crying for. It's the untold thousands of mypeople who have died for lack of that little device you treat socasually. "

"Surely you have medicines, doctors of your own?"

"Herb doctors and witch doctors, " Rhes said, consigning them all tooblivion with a chop of his hand. "The few hard-working and honest menare hampered by the fact that the faith healers can usually cure betterthan their strongest potion. "

The talking had tired Rhes. He stopped suddenly and closed his eyes. Onhis chest, the inflamed areas were already losing their angry color asthe injections took affect. Jason glanced around the room, looking forclues to the mystery of these people. 

 * * * * *

Floor and walls were made of wood lengths fitted together, free of paintor decoration. They looked simple and crude, fit only for the savageshe had expected to meet. Or were they crude? The wood had a sweeping, flamelike grain. When he bent close he saw that wax had been rubbed overthe wood to bring out this pattern. Was this the act of savages--or ofartistic men seeking to make the most of simple materials? The finaleffect was far superior to the drab paint and riveted steel rooms of thecity-dwelling Pyrrans. Wasn't it true that both ends of the artisticscale were dominated by simplicity? The untutored aborigine made asimple expression of a clear idea, and created beauty. At the otherextreme, the sophisticated critic rejected over-elaboration anddecoration and sought the truthful clarity of uncluttered art. At whichend of the scale was he looking now?

These men were savages, he had been told that. They dressed in furs andspoke a slurred and broken language, at least Naxa did. Rhes admitted hepreferred faith healers to doctors. But, if all this were true, wheredid the communicator fit into the picture? Or the glowing ceiling thatilluminated the room with a soft light?

Rhes opened his eyes and stared at Jason, as if seeing him for the firsttime. "Who are you?" he asked. "And what are you doing here?"

There was a cold menace in his words and Jason understood why. The cityPyrrans hated the "grubbers" and, without a doubt, the feeling wasmutual. Naxa's ax had proved that. Naxa had entered silently while theytalked, and stood with his fingers touching the haft of this same ax. Jason knew his life was still in jeopardy, until he gave an answer thatsatisfied these men. 

He couldn't tell the truth. If they once suspected he was spying amongthem to aid the city people, it would be the end. Nevertheless, he hadto be free to talk about the survival problem. 

The answer hit him as soon as he had stated the problem. All this hadonly taken an instant to consider, as he turned back to face theinvalid, and he answered at once. Trying to keep his voice normal andunconcerned. 

"I'm Jason dinAlt, an ecologist, so you see I have the best reasons inthe universe for visiting this planet--"

"What is an ecologist?" Rhes broke in. There was nothing in his voice toindicate whether he meant the question seriously, or as a trap. Alltraces of the ease of their earlier conversation were gone, his voicehad the deadliness of a stingwing's poison. Jason chose his wordscarefully. 

"Simply stated, it is that branch of biology that considers therelations between organisms and their environment. How climatic andother factors affect the life forms, and how the life forms in turnaffect each other and the environment. " That much Jason knew wastrue--but he really knew very little more about the subject so he movedon quickly. 

"I heard reports of this planet, and finally came here to study itfirsthand. I did what work I could in the shelter of the city, but itwasn't enough. The people there think I'm crazy, but they finally agreedto let me make a trip out here. "

"What arrangements have been made for your return?" Naxa snapped. 

"None, " Jason told him. "They seemed quite sure that I would be killedinstantly and had no hope of me coming back. In fact, they refused tolet me go and I had to break away. "

This answer seemed to satisfy Rhes and his face cracked into a mirthlesssmile. "They would think that, those junkmen. Can't move a meter outsidetheir own walls without an armor-plated machine as big as a barn. Whatdid they tell you about us?"

Again Jason knew a lot depended on his answer. This time he thoughtcarefully before speaking. 

"Well . . . Perhaps I'll get that ax in the back of my neck for sayingthis . . . But I have to be honest. You must know what they think. Theytold me you were filthy and ignorant savages who smelled. And you . . . Well, had curious customs you practiced with the animals. In exchangefor food, they traded you beads and knives . . . "

Both Pyrrans broke into a convulsion of laughter at this. Rhes stoppedsoon, from weakness, but Naxa laughed himself into a coughing fit andhad to splash water over his head from a gourd jug. 

"That I believe well enough, " Rhes said, "it sounds like the stupiditythey would talk. Those people know nothing of the world they live in. Ihope the rest of what you said is true, but even if it is not, you arewelcome here. You are from off-world, that I know. No junkman would havelifted a finger to save my life. You are the first off-worlder my peoplehave ever known and for that you are doubly welcome. We will help you inany way we can. My arm is your arm. "

These last words had a ritual sound to them, and when Jason repeatedthem, Naxa nodded at the correctness of this. At the same time, Jasonfelt that they were more than empty ritual. Interdependence meantsurvival on Pyrrus, and he knew that these people stood together to thedeath against the mortal dangers around them. He hoped the ritual wouldinclude him in that protective sphere. 

"That is enough for tonight, " Rhes said. "The spotted sickness hadweakened me, and your medicine has turned me to jelly. You will stayhere, Jason. There is a blanket, but no bed at least for now. "

Enthusiasm had carried Jason this far, making him forget the two-geeexertions of the long day. Now fatigue hit him a physical blow. He haddim memories of refusing food and rolling in the blanket on the floor. After that, oblivion. 

XVII. 

Every square inch of his body ached where the doubled gravity hadpressed his flesh to the unyielding wood of the floor. His eyes weregummy and his mouth was filled with an indescribable taste that came offin chunks. Sitting up was an effort and he had to stifle a groan as hisjoints cracked. 

"Good day, Jason, " Rhes called from the bed. "If I didn't believe inmedicine so strongly, I would be tempted to say there is a miracle inyour machine that has cured me overnight. "

There was no doubt that he was on the mend. The inflamed patches hadvanished and the burning light was gone from his eyes. He sat, proppedup on the bed, watching the morning sun melt the night's hailstorm intothe fields. 

"There's meat in the cabinet there, " he said, "and either water or viskto drink. "

The visk proved to be a distilled beverage of extraordinary potency thatinstantly cleared the fog from Jason's brain, though it did leave aslight ringing in his ears. And the meat was a tenderly smoked joint, the best food he had tasted since leaving Darkhan. Taken together theyrestored his faith in life and the future. He lowered his glass with arelaxed sigh and looked around. 

With the pressures of immediate survival and exhaustion removed, histhoughts returned automatically to his problem. What were these peoplereally like--and how had they managed to survive in the deadlywilderness? In the city he had been told they were savages. Yet therewas a carefully tended and repaired communicator on the wall. And by thedoor a crossbow--that fired machined metal bolts, he could see the toolmarks still visible on their shanks. The one thing he needed was moreinformation. He could start by getting rid of some of hismisinformation. 

"Rhes, you laughed when I told you what the city people said, abouttrading you trinkets for food. What do they really trade you?"

"Anything within certain limits, " Rhes said. "Small manufactured items, such as electronic components for our communicators. Rustless alloys wecan't make in our forges, cutting tools, atomic electric converters thatproduce power from any radioactive element. Things like that. Withinreason they'll trade anything we ask that isn't on the forbidden list. They need the food badly. "

"And the items on the forbidden list--?"

"Weapons, of course, or anything that might be made into a powerfulweapon. They know we make gunpowder so we can't get anything like largecastings or seamless tubing we could make into heavy gun barrels. Wedrill our own rifle barrels by hand, though the crossbow is quiet andfaster in the jungle. Then they don't like us to know very much, so theonly reading matter that gets to us are tech maintenance manuals, emptyof basic theory. 

"The last banned category you know about--medicine. This is the onething I cannot understand, that makes me burn with hatred with everydeath they might have prevented. "

"I know their reasons, " Jason said. 

"Then tell me, because I can think of none. "

"Survival--it's just that simple. I doubt if you realize it, but theyhave a decreasing population. It is just a matter of years before theywill be gone. Whereas your people at least must have a stable--if notslightly growing population--to have existed without their mechanicalprotections. So in the city they hate you and are jealous of you at thesame time. If they gave you medicine and you prospered, you would bewinning the battle they have lost. I imagine they tolerate you as anecessary evil, to supply them with food, otherwise they wish you wereall dead. "

"It makes sense, " Rhes growled, slamming his fist against the bed. "Thekind of twisted logic you expect from junkmen. They use us to feed them, give us the absolute minimum in return, and at the same time cut us offfrom the knowledge that will get us out of this hand to mouth existence. Worse, far worse, they cut us off from the stars and the rest ofmankind. " The hatred on his face was so strong that Jason unconsciouslydrew back. 

"Do you think we are savages here, Jason? We act and look like animalsbecause we have to fight for existence on an animal level. Yet we knowabout the stars. In that chest over there, sealed in metal, are overthirty books, all we have. Fiction most of them, with some history andgeneral science thrown in. Enough to keep alive the stories of thesettlement here and the rest of the universe outside. We see the shipsland in the city and we know that up there are worlds we can only dreamabout and never see. Do you wonder that we hate these beasts that callthemselves men, and would destroy them in an instant if we could? Theyare right to keep weapons from us--for sure as the sun rises in themorning we would kill them to a man if we were able, and take over thethings they have withheld from us. "

 * * * * *

It was a harsh condemnation, but essentially a truthful one. At leastfrom the point of view of the outsiders. Jason didn't try to explain tothe angry man that the city Pyrrans looked on their attitude as beingthe only possible and logical one. "How did this battle between your twogroups ever come about?" he asked. 

"I don't know, " Rhes said, "I've thought about it many times, but thereare no records of that period. We do know that we are all descended fromcolonists who arrived at the same time. Somewhere, at some time, the twogroups separated. Perhaps it was a war, I've read about them in thebooks. I have a partial theory, though I can't prove it, that it was thelocation of the city. "

"Location--I don't understand. "

"Well, you know the junkmen, and you've seen where their city is. Theymanaged to put it right in the middle of the most savage spot on thisplanet. You know they don't care about any living thing exceptthemselves, shoot and kill is their only logic. So they wouldn'tconsider where to build their city, and managed to build it in thestupidest spot imaginable. I'm sure my ancestors saw how foolish thiswas and tried to tell them so. That would be reason enough for a war, wouldn't it?"

"It might have been--if that's really what happened, " Jason said. "But Ithink you have the problem turned backwards. It's a war between nativePyrran life and humans, each fighting to destroy the other. The lifeforms change continually, seeking that final destruction of theinvader. "

"Your theory is even wilder than mine, " Rhes said. "That's not true atall. I admit that life isn't too easy on this planet . . . If what I haveread in the books about other planets is true . . . But it doesn't change. You have to be fast on your feet and keep your eyes open for anythingbigger than you, but you can survive. Anyway, it doesn't really matterwhy. The junkmen always look for trouble and I'm happy to see that theyhave enough. "

Jason didn't try to press the point. The effort of forcing Rhes tochange his basic attitudes wasn't worth it--even if possible. He hadn'tsucceeded in convincing anyone in the city of the lethal mutations evenwhen they could observe all the facts. Rhes could still supplyinformation though. 

[Illustration]

"I suppose it's not important who started the battle, " Jason said forthe other man's benefit, not meaning a word of it, "but you'll have toagree that the city people are permanently at war with all the locallife. Your people, though, have managed to befriend at least two speciesthat I have seen. Do you have any idea how this was done?"

"Naxa will be here in a minute, " Rhes said, pointing to the door, "assoon as he's taken care of the animals. Ask him. He's the best talker wehave. "

"Talker?" Jason asked. "I had the opposite idea about him. He didn'ttalk much, and what he did say was, well . . . A little hard to understandat times. "

"Not that kind of talking. " Rhes broke in impatiently. "The talkers lookafter the animals. They train the dogs and doryms, and the better oneslike Naxa are always trying to work with other beasts. They dresscrudely, but they have to. I've heard them say that the animals don'tlike chemicals, metal or tanned leather, so they wear untanned furs forthe most part. But don't let the dirt fool you, it has nothing to dowith his intelligence. "

"Doryms? Are those your carrying beasts--the kind we rode coming here?"

Rhes nodded. "Doryms are more than pack animals, they're really a littlebit of everything. The large males pull the ploughs and other machines, while the younger animals are used for meat. If you want to know more, ask Naxa, you'll find him in the barn. "

"I'd like to do that, " Jason said, standing up. "Only I feel undressedwithout my gun--"

"Take it, by all means, it's in that chest by the door. Only watch outwhat you shoot around here. "

 * * * * *

Naxa was in the rear of the barn, filing down one of the spadeliketoenails of a dorym. It was a strange scene. The fur-dressed man withthe great beast--and the contrast of a beryllium-copper file andelectroluminescent plates lighting the work. 

The dorym opened its nostrils and pulled away when Jason entered; Naxapatted its neck and talked softly until it quieted and stood still, shivering slightly. 

Something stirred in Jason's mind, with the feeling of a long unusedmuscle being stressed. A hauntingly familiar sensation. 

"Good morning, " Jason said. Naxa grunted something and went back to hisfiling. Watching him for a few minutes, Jason tried to analyze this newfeeling. It itched and slipped aside when he reached for it, escapinghim. Whatever it was, it had started when Naxa had talked to the dorym. 

"Could you call one of the dogs in here, Naxa? I'd like to see onecloser up. "

Without raising his head from his work, Naxa gave a low whistle. Jasonwas sure it couldn't have been heard outside of the barn. Yet within aminute one of the Pyrran dogs slipped quietly in. The talker rubbed thebeast's head, mumbling to it, while the animal looked intently into hiseyes. 

The dog became restless when Naxa turned back to work on the dorym. Itprowled around the barn, sniffing, then moved quickly towards the opendoor. Jason called it back. 

At least he meant to call it. At the last moment he said nothing. Nothing aloud. On sudden impulse he kept his mouth closed--only hecalled the dog with his mind. Thinking the words _come here_, directingthe impulse at the animal with all the force and direction he had everused to manipulate dice. As he did it he realized it had been a longtime since he had even considered using his psi powers. 

The dog stopped and turned back towards him. 

It hesitated, looking at Naxa, then walked over to Jason. 

Seen this closely the beast was a nightmare hound. The hairlessprotective plates, tiny red-rimmed eyes, and countless, saliva-drippingteeth did little to inspire confidence. Yet Jason felt no fear. Therewas a rapport between man and animal that was understood. Withoutconscious thought he reached out and scratched the dog along the back, where he knew it itched. 

"Didn't know y're a talker, " Naxa said. As he watched them, there wasfriendship in his voice for the first time. 

"I didn't know either--until just now, " Jason said. He looked into theeyes of the animal before him, scratched the ridged and ugly back, andbegan to understand. 

The talkers must have well developed psi facilities, that was obviousnow. There is no barrier of race or alien form when two creatures shareeach other's emotions. Empathy first, so there would be no hatred orfear. After that direct communication. The talkers might have been theones who first broke through the barrier of hatred on Pyrrus and learnedto live with the native life. Others could have followed theirexample--this might explain how the community of "grubbers" had beenformed. 

Now that he was concentrating on it, Jason was aware of the soft flowof thoughts around him. The consciousness of the dorym was matched byother like patterns from the rear of the barn. He knew without goingoutside that more of the big beasts were in the field back there. 

"This is all new to me, " Jason said. "Have you ever thought about it, Naxa? What does it feel like to be a talker? I mean, do you _know_ whyit is you can get the animals to obey you while other people have noluck at all?"

Thinking of this sort troubled Naxa. He ran his fingers through histhick hair and scowled as he answered. "Nev'r thought about it. Just doit. Just get t'know the beast real good, then y'can guess what they'regoing t'do. That's all. "

It was obvious that Naxa had never thought about the origin of hisability to control the animals. And if he hadn't--probably no one elsehad. They had no reason to. They simply accepted the powers of talkersas one of the facts of life. 

Ideas slipped towards each other in his mind, like the pieces of apuzzle joining together. He had told Kerk that the native life of Pyrrushad joined in battle against mankind, he didn't know why. Well--he stilldidn't know why, but he was getting an idea of the "how. "

"About how far are we from the city?" Jason asked. "Do you have an ideahow long it would take us to get there by dorym?"

"Half a day there--half back. Why? Y'want to go?"

"I don't want to get into the city, not yet. But I would like to getclose to it, " Jason told him. 

"See what Rhes say, " was Naxa's answer. 

 * * * * *

Rhes granted instant permission without asking any questions. Theysaddled up and left at once, in order to complete the round trip beforedark. 

They had been traveling less than an hour before Jason knew they weregoing in the direction of the city. With each minute the feeling grewstronger. Naxa was aware of it too, stirring in the saddle with unvoicedfeelings. They had to keep touching and reassuring their mounts whichwere growing skittish and restless. 

"This is far enough, " Jason said. Naxa gratefully pulled to a stop. 

The wordless thought beat through Jason's mind, filling it. He couldfeel it on all sides--only much stronger ahead of them in the directionof the unseen city. Naxa and the doryms reacted in the same way, restlessly uncomfortable, not knowing the cause. 

One thing was obvious now. The Pyrran animals were sensitive to psiradiation--probably the plants and lower life forms as well. Perhapsthey communicated by it, since they obeyed the men who had a strongcontrol of it. And in this area was a wash of psi radiation such as hehad never experienced before. Though his personal talents specialized inpsychokinesis--the mental control of inanimate matter--he was stillsensitive to most mental phenomena. Watching a sports event he had manytimes felt the unanimous accord of many minds expressing the samethought. What he felt now was like that. 

Only terribly different. A crowd exulted at some success on the field, or groaned at a failure. The feeling fluxed and changed as the gameprogressed. Here the wash of thought was unending, strong andfrightening. It didn't translate into words very well. It was parthatred, part fear--and all destruction. 

"_KILL THE ENEMY_" was as close as Jason could express it. But it wasmore than that. An unending river of mental outrage and death. 

"Let's go back now, " he said, suddenly battered and sickened by thefeelings he had let wash through him. As they started the return trip hebegan to understand many things. 

His sudden unspeakable fear when the Pyrran animal had attacked him thatfirst day on the planet. And his recurrent nightmares that had nevercompletely ceased, even with drugs. Both of these were his reaction tothe hatred directed at the city. Though for some reason he hadn't feltit directly up to now, enough had reached through to him to get a strongemotional reaction. 

Rhes was asleep when they got back and Jason couldn't talk to him untilmorning. In spite of his fatigue from the trip, he stayed awake lateinto the night, going over in his mind the discoveries of the day. Couldhe tell Rhes what he had found out? Not very well. If he did that, hewould have to explain the importance of his discovery and what he meantto use it for. Nothing that aided the city dwellers would appeal to Rhesin the slightest. Best to say nothing until the entire affair was over. 

XVIII. 

After breakfast he told Rhes that he wanted to return to the city. 

"Then you have seen enough of our barbarian world, and wish to go backto your friends. To help them wipe us out perhaps?" Rhes said itlightly, but there was a touch of cold malice behind his words. 

"I hope you don't really think that, " Jason told him. "You must realizethat the opposite is true. I would like to see this civil war ended andyour people getting all the benefits of science and medicine that havebeen withheld. I'll do everything I can to bring that about. "

"They'll never change, " Rhes said gloomily, "so don't waste your time. But there is one thing you must do, for your protection and ours. Don'tadmit, or even hint, that you've talked to any grubbers!"

"Why not?"

"Why not! Suffering death are you that simple! They will do anything tosee that we don't rise too high, and would much prefer to see us alldead. Do you think they would hesitate to kill you if they as much assuspected you had contacted us? They realize--even if you don't--thatyou can singlehandedly alter the entire pattern of power on this planet. The ordinary junkman may think of us as being only one step above theanimals, but the leaders don't. They know what we need and what we want. They could probably guess just what it is I am going to ask you. 

"Help us, Jason dinAlt. Get back among those human pigs and lie. Say younever talked to us, that you hid in the forest and we attacked you andyou had to shoot to save yourself. We'll supply some recent corpses tomake that part of your story sound good. Make them believe you, and evenafter you think you have them convinced keep on acting the part becausethey will be watching you. Then tell them you have finished your workand are ready to leave. Get safely off Pyrrus, to another planet, and Ipromise you anything in the universe. Whatever you want you shall have. Power, money--_anything_. 

"This is a rich planet. The junkmen mine and sell the metal, but wecould do it much better. Bring a spaceship back here and land anywhereon this continent. We have no cities, but our people have farmseverywhere, they will find you. We will then have commerce, trade--onour own. This is what we all want and we will work hard for it. And_you_ will have done it. Whatever you want we will give. That is apromise and we do not break our promises. "

The intensity and magnitude of what he described rocked Jason. He knewthat Rhes spoke the truth and the entire resources of the planet wouldbe his, if he did as asked. For one second he was tempted, savoring thethought of what it would be like. Then came realization that it would bea half answer, and a poor one at that. If these people had the strengththey wanted, their first act would be the attempted destruction of thecity men. The result would be bloody civil war that would probablydestroy them both. Rhes' answer was a good one--but only half an answer. 

Jason had to find a better solution. One that would stop _all_ thefighting on this planet and allow the two groups of humans to live inpeace. 

"I will do nothing to injure your people, Rhes--and everything in mypower to aid them, " Jason said. 

This half answer satisfied Rhes, who could see only one interpretationof it. He spent the rest of the morning on the communicator, arrangingfor the food supplies that were being brought to the trading site. 

"The supplies are ready and we have sent the signal, " he said. "Thetruck will be there tomorrow and you will be waiting for it. Everythingis arranged as I told you. You'll leave now with Naxa. You must reachthe meeting spot before the trucks. "

XIX. 

"Trucks almost here. Y'know what to do?" Naxa asked. 

Jason nodded, and looked again at the dead man. Some beast had torn hisarm off and he had bled to death. The severed arm had been tied into theshirt sleeve, so from a distance it looked normal. Seen close up thislimp arm, plus the white skin and shocked expression on the face, gaveJason an unhappy sensation. He liked to see his corpses safely buried. However he could understand its importance today. 

"Here they're. Wait until his back's turned, " Naxa whispered. 

The armored truck had three powered trailers in tow this time. The trainground up the rock slope and whined to a stop. Krannon climbed out ofthe cab and looked carefully around before opening up the trailers. Hehad a lift robot along to help him with the loading. 

"Now!" Naxa hissed. 

Jason burst into the clearing, running, shouting Krannon's name. Therewas a crackling behind him as two of the hidden men hurled the corpsethrough the foliage after him. He turned and fired without stopping, setting the thing afire in midair. 

There was the crack of another gun as Krannon fired, his shot jarred thetwice-dead corpse before it hit the ground. Then he was lying prone, firing into the trees behind the running Jason. 

Just as Jason reached the truck there was a whirring in the air and hotpain ripped into his back, throwing him to the ground. He looked aroundas Krannon dragged him through the door, and saw the metal shaft of acrossbow bolt sticking out of his shoulder. 

"Lucky, " the Pyrran said. "An inch lower would have got your heart. Iwarned you about those grubbers. You're lucky to get off with onlythis. " He lay next to the door and snapped shots into the now quietwood. 

Taking out the bolt hurt much more than it had going in. Jason cursedthe pain as Krannon put on a dressing, and admired the singleness ofpurpose of the people who had shot him. They had risked his life to makehis escape look real. And also risked the chance that he might turnagainst them after being shot. They did a job completely and thoroughlyand he cursed them for their efficiency. 

Krannon climbed warily out of the truck, after Jason was bandaged. Finishing the loading quickly, he started the train of trailers backtowards the city. Jason had an anti-pain shot and dozed off as soon asthey started. 

 * * * * *

While he slept, Krannon must have radioed ahead, because Kerk waswaiting when they arrived. As soon as the truck entered the perimeter hethrew open the door and dragged Jason out. The bandage pulled and Jasonfelt the wound tear open. He ground his teeth together; Kerk would nothave the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. 

"I told you to stay in the buildings until the ship left. Why did youleave? Why did you go outside? You talked to the grubbers--didn't you?"With each question he shook Jason again. 

"I didn't talk to--anyone. " Jason managed to get the words out. "Theytried to take me, I shot two--hid out until the trucks came back. "

"Got another one then, " Krannon said. "I saw it. Good shooting. Think Igot some, too. Let him go Kerk, they shot him in the back before hecould reach the truck. "

_That's enough explanations_, Jason thought to himself. _Don't overdoit. Let him make up his mind later. Now's the time to change thesubject. There's one thing that will get his mind off the grubbers. _

"I've been fighting your war for you Kerk, while you stayed safelyinside the perimeter. " Jason leaned back against the side of the truckas the other loosened his grip. "I've found out what your battle withthis planet is really about--and how you can win it. Now let me sit downand I'll tell you. "

More Pyrrans had come up while they talked. None of them moved now. LikeKerk, they stood frozen, looking at Jason. When Kerk talked, he spokefor all of them. 

"_What do you mean?_"

"Just what I said. Pyrrus is fighting you--actively and consciously. Getfar enough out from this city and you can feel the waves of hatred thatare directed at it. No, that's wrong--you can't because you've grown upwith it. But I can, and so could anyone else with any sort of psisensitivity. There is a message of war being beamed against youconstantly. The life forms of this planet are psi-sensitive, and respondto that order. They attack and change and mutate for your destruction. And they'll keep on doing so until you are all dead. Unless you can stopthe war. "

"How?" Kerk snapped the word and every face echoed the question. 

"By finding whoever or whatever is sending that message. The life formsthat attack you have no reasoning intelligence. They are being orderedto do so. I think I know how to find the source of these orders. Afterthat it will be a matter of getting across a message, asking for a truceand an eventual end to all hostilities. "

A dead silence followed his words as the Pyrrans tried to comprehend theideas. Kerk moved first, waving them all away. 

"Go back to your work. This is my responsibility and I'll take care ofit. As soon as I find out what truth there is here--if any--I'll make acomplete report. " The people drifted away silently, looking back as theywent. 

[Illustration]

XX. 

"From the beginning now, " Kerk said. "And leave out nothing. "

"There is very little more that I can add to the physical facts. I sawthe animals, understood the message. I even experimented with some ofthem and they reacted to my mental commands. What I must do now is trackdown the source of the orders that keep this war going. 

"I'll tell you something that I have never told anyone else. I'm notonly lucky at gambling. I have enough psi ability to alter probabilityin my favor. It's an erratic ability that I have tried to improve forobvious reasons. During the past ten years I managed to study at all ofthe centers that do psi research. Compared to other fields of knowledgeit is amazing how little they know. Basic psi talents can be improved bypractice, and some machines have been devised that act as psionicamplifiers. One of these, used correctly, is a very good directionalindicator. "

"You want to build this machine?" Kerk asked. 

"Exactly. Build it and take it outside the city in the ship. Any signalstrong enough to keep this centuries-old battle going should be strongenough to track down. I'll follow it, contact the creatures who aresending it, and try to find out why they are doing it. I assume you'llgo along with any reasonable plan that will end this war?"

"Anything reasonable, " Kerk said coldly. "How long will it take you tobuild this machine?"

"Just a few days if you have all the parts here, " Jason told him. 

"Then do it. I'm canceling the flight that's leaving now and I'll keepthe ship here, ready to go. When the machine is built I want you totrack the signal and report back to me. "

"Agreed, " Jason said, standing up. "As soon as I have this hole in myback looked at I'll draw up a list of things needed. "

A grim, unsmiling man named Skop was assigned to Jason as a combinationguide and guard. He took his job very seriously, and it didn't takeJason long to realize that he was a prisoner-at-large. Kerk had acceptedhis story, but that was no guarantee that he believed it. At a singleword from him, the guard could turn executioner. 

The chill thought hit Jason that undoubtedly this was what would happen. Whether Kerk accepted the story or not--he couldn't afford to take achance. As long as there was the slightest possibility Jason hadcontacted the grubbers, he could not be allowed to leave the planetalive. The woods people were being simple if they thought a plan thisobvious might succeed. Or had they just gambled on the very long chanceit might work? _They_ certainly had nothing to lose by it. 

Only half of Jason's mind was occupied with the work as he drew up alist of materials he would need for the psionic direction finder. Histhoughts plodded in tight circles, searching for a way out that didn'texist. He was too deeply involved now to just leave. Kerk would see tothat. Unless he could find a way to end the war and settle the grubberquestion he was marooned on Pyrrus for life. A very short life. 

When the list was ready he called Supply. With a few substitutions, everything he might possibly need was in stock, and would be sent over. Skop sank into an apparent doze in his chair and Jason, his head proppedagainst the pull of gravity by one arm, began a working sketch of hismachine. 

Jason looked up suddenly, aware of the silence. He could hear machineryin the building and voices in the hall outside. What kind of silencethen--?

Mental silence. He had been so preoccupied since his return to the citythat he hadn't noticed the complete lack of any kind of psi sensation. The constant wash of animal reactions was missing, as was the vaguetactile awareness of his PK. With sudden realization he remembered thatit was always this way inside the city. 

He tried to listen with his mind--and stopped almost before he began. There was a constant press of thought about him that he was made awareof when he reached out. It was like being in a vessel far beneath theocean, with your hand on the door that held back the frighteningpressure. Touching the door, without opening it, you could feel thestresses, the power pushing in and waiting to crush you. It was this waywith the psi pressure on the city. The unvoiced hate-filled screams ofPyrrus would instantly destroy any mind that received them. Somefunction of his brain acted as a psi-circuit breaker, shutting offawareness before his mind could be blasted. There was just enoughleak-through to keep him aware of the pressure--and supply the rawmaterials for his constant nightmares. 

There was only one fringe benefit. The lack of thought pressure made iteasier for him to concentrate. In spite of his fatigue the diagramdeveloped swiftly. 

 * * * * *

Meta arrived late that afternoon, bringing the parts he had ordered. Sheslid the long box onto the workbench, started to speak, but changed hermind and said nothing. Jason looked up at her and smiled. 

"Confused?" he asked. 

"I don't know what you mean, " she said, "I'm not confused. Just annoyed. The regular trip has been canceled and our supply schedule will bethrown off for months to come. And instead of piloting or perimeterassignment all I can do is stand around and wait for you. Then takesome silly flight following your directions. Do you wonder that I'mannoyed?"

Jason carefully set the parts out on the chassis before he spoke. "As Isaid, you're confused. I can point out how you're confused--which willmake you even more confused. A temptation that I frankly find hard toresist. "

She looked across the bench at him, frowning. One finger unconsciouslycurling and uncurling a short lock of hair. Jason liked her this way. Asa Pyrran operating at full blast she had as much personality as a gearin a machine. Once out of that pattern she reminded him more of the girlhe had known on that first flight to Pyrrus. He wondered if it waspossible to really get across to her what he meant. 

"I'm not being insulting when I say 'confused, ' Meta. With yourbackground you couldn't be any other way. You have an insularpersonality. Admittedly, Pyrrus is an unusual island with a lot ofhigh-power problems that you are an expert at solving. That doesn't makeit any less of an island. When you face a cosmopolitan problem you areconfused. Or even worse, when your island problems are put into a biggercontext. That's like playing your own game, only having the rules changeconstantly as you go along. "

"You're talking nonsense, " she snapped at him. "Pyrrus isn't an islandand battling for survival is definitely not a game. "

"I'm sorry, " he smiled. "I was using a figure of speech, and a badlychosen one at that. Let's put the problem on more concrete terms. Takean example. Suppose I were to tell you that over there, hanging from thedoorframe, was a stingwing--"

Meta's gun was pointing at the door before he finished the last word. There was a crash as the guard's chair went over. He had jumped from ahalf-doze to full alertness in an instant, his gun also searching thedoorframe. 

"That was just an example, " Jason said. "There's really nothing there. "The guard's gun vanished and he scowled a look of contempt at Jason, ashe righted the chair and dropped into it. 

"You both have proved yourself capable of handling a Pyrran problem. "Jason continued. "But what if I said that there is a thing hanging fromthe doorframe that _looks_ like a stingwing, but is really a kind oflarge insect that spins a fine silk that can be used to weave clothes?"

The guard glared from under his thick eyebrows at the empty doorframe, his gun whined part way out, then snapped back into the holster. Hegrowled something inaudible at Jason, then stamped into the outer room, slamming the door behind him. Meta frowned in concentration and lookedpuzzled. 

"It couldn't be anything except a stingwing, " she finally said. "Nothingelse could possibly look like that. And even if it didn't spin silk, itwould bite if you got near, so you would have to kill it. " She smiledwith satisfaction at the indestructible logic of her answer. 

"Wrong again, " Jason said. "I just described the mimic-spinner thatlives on Stover's Planet. It imitates the most violent forms of lifethere, does such a good job that it has no need for other defenses. It'll sit quietly on your hand and spin for you by the yard. If Idropped a shipload of them here on Pyrrus, you never could be sure whento shoot, could you?"

"But they are not here now, " Meta insisted. 

"Yet they could be quite easily. And if they were, all the rules of yourgame would change. Getting the idea now? There are some fixed laws andrules in the galaxy--but they're not the ones you live by. Your rule iswar unending with the local life. I want to step outside your rule bookand end that war. Wouldn't you like that? Wouldn't you like an existencethat was more than just an endless battle for survival? A life with achance for happiness, love, music, art--all the enjoyable things youhave never had the time for. "

All the Pyrran sternness was gone from her face as she listened to whathe said, letting herself follow these alien concepts. He had put hishand out automatically as he talked, and had taken hers. It was warm andher pulse fast to his touch. 

Meta suddenly became conscious of his hand and snapped hers away, risingto her feet at the same time. As she started blindly towards the door, Jason's voice snapped after her. 

"The guard, Skop, ran out because he didn't want to lose his precioustwo-value logic. It's all he has. But you've seen other parts of thegalaxy, Meta, you know there is a lot more to life thankill-and-be-killed on Pyrrus. You feel it is true, even if you won'tadmit it. "

She turned and ran out the door. 

Jason looked after her, his hand scraping the bristle on his chinthoughtfully. "Meta, I have the faint hope that the woman is winningover the Pyrran. I think that I saw--perhaps for the first time in thehistory of this bloody war-torn city--a tear in one of its citizen'seyes. "

XXI. 

"Drop that equipment and Kerk will undoubtedly pull both your arms off, "Jason said. "He's over there now, looking as sorry as possible that Iever talked him into this. "

Skop cursed under the bulky mass of the psi detector, passing it up toMeta who waited in the open port of the spaceship. Jason supervised theloading, and blasted all the local life that came to investigate. Horndevils were thick this morning and he shot four of them. He was lastaboard and closed the lock behind him. 

"Where are you going to install it?" Meta asked. 

"You tell me, " Jason said. "I need a spot for the antenna where therewill be no dense metal in front of the bowl to interfere with thesignal. Thin plastic will do, or if worst comes to worst I can mount itoutside the hull with a remote drive. "

"You may have to, " she said. "The hull is an unbroken unit, we do allviewing by screen and instruments. I don't think . . . Wait . . . There isone place that might do. "

She led the way to a bulge in the hull that marked one of the lifeboats. They went in through the always-open lock, Skop struggling after themwith the apparatus. 

"These lifeboats are half buried in the ship, " Meta explained. "Theyhave transparent front ports covered by friction shields that withdrawautomatically when the boat is launched. "

"Can we pull back the shields now?"

"I think so, " she said. She traced the launching circuits to a junctionbox and opened the lid. When she closed the shield relay manually, theheavy plates slipped back into the hull. There was a clear view, sincemost of the viewport projected beyond the parent ship. 

"Perfect, " Jason said. "I'll set up here. Now how do I talk to you inthe ship?"

"Right here, " she said. "There's a pre-tuned setting on thiscommunicator. Don't touch anything else--and particularly not thisswitch. " She pointed to a large pull-handle set square into the centerof the control board. "Emergency launching. Two seconds after that ispulled the lifeboat is shot free. And it so happens this boat has nofuel. "

"Hands off for sure, " Jason said. "Now have Husky there run me in a linewith ship's power and I'll get this stuff set up. "

The detector was simple, though the tuning had to be precise. Adish-shaped antenna pulled in the signal for the delicately balanceddetector. There was a sharp fall-off on both sides of the input sodirection could be precisely determined. The resulting signal was fed toan amplifier stage. Unlike the electronic components of the first stage, this one was drawn in symbols on white paper. Carefully glued-on inputand output leads ran to it. 

When everything was ready and clamped into place, Jason nodded to Meta'simage on the screen. "Take her up--and easy please. None of your nine-Gspecials. Go into a slow circle around the perimeter, until I tell youdifferently. "

 * * * * *

Under steady power the ship lifted and grabbed for altitude, then easedinto its circular course. They made five circuits of the city beforeJason shook his head. 

"The thing seems to be working fine, but we're getting too much noisefrom all the local life. Get thirty kilometers out from the city andstart a new circuit. "

[Illustration]

The results were better this time. A powerful signal came from thedirection of the city, confined to less than a degree of arc. With theantenna fixed at a right angle to the direction of the ship's flight, the signal was fairly constant. Meta rotated the ship on its main axis, until Jason's lifeboat was directly below. 

"Going fine now, " he said. "Just hold your controls as they are and keepthe nose from drifting. "

After making a careful mark on the setting circle, Jason turned thereceiving antenna through one hundred eighty degrees of arc. As the shipkept to its circle, he made a slow collecting sweep of any signalsbeamed at the city. They were halfway around before he got a new signal. 

It was there all right, narrow but strong. Just to be sure he let theship complete two more sweeps, and he noted the direction on thegyro-compass each time. They coincided. The third time around he calledto Meta. 

"Get ready for a full right turn, or whatever you call it. I think Ihave our bearing. Get ready--_now_. "

It was a slow turn and Jason never lost the signal. A few times itwavered, but he brought it back on. When the compass settled down Metapushed on more power. 

They set their course towards the native Pyrrans. 

An hour's flight at close to top atmospheric speed brought no change. Meta complained, but Jason kept her on course. The signal never variedand was slowly picking up strength. They crossed the chain of volcanoesthat marked the continental limits, the ship bucking in the fiercethermals. Once the shore was behind and they were over water, Skopjoined Meta in grumbling. He kept his turret spinning, but there wasvery little to shoot at this far from land. 

When the islands came over the horizon the signal began to dip. 

"Slow now, " Jason called. "Those islands ahead look like our source!"

A continent had been here once, floating on Pyrrus' liquid core. Pressures changed, land masses shifted, and the continent had sunkbeneath the ocean. All that was left now of the teeming life of thatland mass was confined to a chain of islands, once the mountain peaks ofthe highest range of mountains. These islands, whose sheer, sides rosestraight from the water, held the last inhabitants of the lostcontinent. The weeded-out descendants, of the victors of uncountableviolent contests. Here lived the oldest native Pyrrans. 

"Come in lower, " Jason signaled. "Towards that large peak. The signalsseem to originate there. "

They swooped low over the mountain, but nothing was visible other thanthe trees and sun-blasted rock. 

The pain almost took Jason's head off. A blast of hatred that drovethrough the amplifier and into his skull. He tore off the phones, andclutched his skull between his hands. Through watering eyes he saw theblack cloud of flying beasts hurtle up from the trees below. He had asingle glimpse of the hillside beyond, before Meta blasted power to theengines and the ship leaped away. 

"We've found them!" Her fierce exultation faded as she saw Jason throughthe communicator. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"Feel . . . Burned out . . . I've felt a psi blast before, but nothing likethat! I had a glimpse of an opening, looked like a cave mouth, justbefore the blast hit. Seemed to come from there. "

"Lie down, " Meta said. "I'll get you back as fast as I can. I'm callingahead to Kerk, he has to know what happened. "

 * * * * *

A group of men were waiting in the landing station when they came down. They stormed out as soon as the ship touched, shielding their faces fromthe still-hot tubes. Kerk burst in as soon as the port was cracked, peering around until he spotted Jason stretched out on an accelerationcouch. 

"Is it true?" he barked. "You've traced the alien criminals who startedthis war?"

"Slow, man, slow, " Jason said. "I've traced the source of the psimessage that keeps your war going. I've found no evidence as to whostarted this war, and certainly wouldn't go so far as to call themcriminals--"

"I'm tired of your word-play, " Kerk broke in. "You've found thesecreatures and their location has been marked. "

"On the chart, " Meta said, "I could fly there blindfolded. "

"Fine, fine, " Kerk said, rubbing his hands together so hard they couldhear the harsh rasp of the callouses. "It takes a real effort to graspthe idea that, after all these centuries, the war might be coming to anend. But it's possible now. Instead of simply killing off theseself-renewing legions of the damned that attack us, we can get to theleaders. Search them out, carry the war to them for a change--and blasttheir stain from the face of this planet!"

"Nothing of the sort!" Jason said, sitting up with an effort. "Nothingdoing! Since I came to this planet I have been knocked around, andrisked my life ten times over. Do you think I have done this just tosatisfy your blood-thirsty ambitions? It's peace I'm after--notdestruction. You promised to contact these creatures, attempt tonegotiate with them. Aren't you a man of honor who keeps his word?"

"I'll ignore the insult--though I'd have killed you for it at any othertime, " Kerk said. "You've been of great service to our people, we arenot ashamed to acknowledge an honest debt. At the same time--do notaccuse me of breaking promises that I never made. I recall my exactwords. I promised to go along with any reasonable plan that would endthis war. That is just what I intend to do. Your plan to negotiate apeace is not reasonable. Therefore we are going to destroy the enemy. "

"Think first, " Jason called after Kerk, who had turned to leave. "Whatis wrong with trying negotiation or an armistice? Then, if that fails, you can try your way. "

The compartment was getting crowded as other Pyrrans pushed in. Kerk, almost to the door, turned back to face Jason. 

"I'll tell you what's wrong with armistice, " he said. "It's a coward'sway out, that's what it is. It's all right for you to suggest it, you'refrom off-world and don't know any better. But do you honestly think Icould entertain such a defeatist notion for one instant? When I speak, Ispeak not only for myself, but for all of us here. We don't mindfighting, and we know how to do it. We know that if this war was over wecould build a better world here. At the same time, if we have the choiceof continued war or a cowardly peace--_we vote for war_. This war willonly be over when the enemy is utterly destroyed!"

The listening Pyrrans shouted in agreement, and when Kerk pushed outthrough the crowd some of them patted his shoulder as he went by. Jasonslumped back on the couch, worn out by his exertions and exhausted bythe attempt to win the violent Pyrrans over to a peaceful point of view. 

When he looked up they were gone--all except Meta. She had the same lookof blood-thirsty elation as the others, but it drained away when sheglanced at him. 

"What about it, Meta?" he asked bitterly. "No doubts? Do you think thatdestruction is the only way to end this war?"

"I don't know, " she said. "I can't be sure. For the first time in mylife I find myself with more than one answer to the same question. "

"Congratulations, " he said. "It's a sign of growing up. "

XXII. 

Jason stood to one side and watched the deadly cargo being loaded intothe hold of the ship. The Pyrrans were in good humor as they stowed awayriot guns, grenades and gas bombs. When the back-pack atom bomb was putaboard one of them broke into a marching song, and the others picked itup. Maybe they were happy, but the approaching carnage only filled Jasonwith an intense gloom. He felt that somehow he was a traitor to life. Perhaps the life form he had found needed destroying--and perhaps itdidn't. Without making the slightest attempt at conciliation, destruction would be plain murder. 

Kerk came out of the operations building and the starter pumps could beheard whining inside the ship. They would leave within minutes. Jasonforced himself into a foot-dragging rush and met Kerk halfway to theship. 

"I'm coming with you, Kerk. You owe me at least that much for findingthem. "

Kerk hesitated, not liking the idea. "This is an operational mission, "he said. "No room for observers, and the extra weight-- And it's toolate to stop us Jason, you know that. "

"You Pyrrans are the worst liars in the universe, " Jason said. "We bothknow that ship can lift ten times the amount it's carrying today. Now . . . Do you let me come, or forbid me without reason at all?"

"Get aboard, " Kerk said. "But keep out of the way or you'll gettrampled. "

This time, with a definite destination ahead, the flight was muchfaster. Meta took the ship into the stratosphere, in a high ballisticarc that ended at the islands. Kerk was in the co-pilot's seat, Jasonsat behind them where he could watch the screens. The landing party, twenty-five volunteers, were in the hold below with the weapons. All thescreens in the ship were switched to the forward viewer. They watchedthe green island appear and swell, then vanish behind the flames of thebraking rockets. Jockeying the ship carefully, Meta brought it down on aflat shelf near the cave mouth. 

Jason was ready this time for the blast of mental hatred--but it stillhurt. The gunners laughed and killed gleefully as every animal on theisland closed in on the ship. They were slaughtered by the thousands, and still more came. 

"Do you have to do this?" Jason asked. "It's murder--carnage, justbutchering those beasts like that. "

"Self-defense, " Kerk said. "They attack us and they get killed. Whatcould be simpler? Now shut up, or I'll throw you out there with them. "

It was a half an hour before the gunfire slackened. Animals stillattacked them, but the mass assaults seemed to be over. Kerk spoke intothe intercom. 

"Landing party away--and watch your step. They know we're here and willmake it as hot as they can. Take the bomb into that cave and see how farback it runs. We can always blast them from the air, but it'll do nogood if they're dug into solid rock. Keep your screen open, leave thebomb and pull back at once if I tell you to. Now move. "

 * * * * *

The men swarmed down the ladders and formed into open battle formation. They were soon under attack, but the beasts were picked off before theycould get close. It didn't take long for the man at point to reach thecave. He had his pickup trained in front of him, and the watchers in theship followed the advance. 

"Big cave, " Kerk grunted. "Slants back and down. What I was afraid of. Bomb dropped on that would just close it up. With no guarantee thatanything sealed in it, couldn't eventually get out. We'll have to seehow far down it goes. "

There was enough heat in the cave now to use the infra-red filters. Therock walls stood out harshly black and white as the advance continued. 

"No signs of life since entering the cave, " the officer reported. "Gnawed bones at the entrance and some bat droppings. It looks like anatural cave--so far. "

Step by step the advance continued, slowing as it went. Insensitive asthe Pyrrans were to psi pressure, even they were aware of the blast ofhatred being continuously leveled at them. Jason, back in the ship, hada headache that slowly grew worse instead of better. 

"_Watch out!_" Kerk shouted, staring at the screen with horror. 

The cave was filled from wall to wall with pallid, eyeless animals. Theypoured from tiny side passages and seemed to literally emerge from theground. Their front ranks dissolved in flame, but more kept pressing in. On the screen the watchers in the ship saw the cave spin dizzily as theoperator fell. Pale bodies washed up and concealed the lens. 

"Close ranks--flame-throwers and gas!" Kerk bellowed into the mike. 

Less than half of the men were alive after that first attack. Thesurvivors, protected by the flame-throwers, set off the gas grenades. Their sealed battle armor protected them while the section of cavefilled with gas. Someone dug through the bodies of their attackers andfound the pickup. 

"Leave the bomb there and withdraw, " Kerk ordered. "We've had enoughlosses already. "

A different man stared out of the screen. The officer was dead. "Sorry, sir, " he said, "but it will be just as easy to push ahead as back aslong as the gas grenades hold out. We're too close now to pull back. "

"That's an order, " Kerk shouted, but the man was gone from the screenand the advance continued. 

Jason's fingers hurt where he had them clamped to the chair arm. Hepulled them loose and massaged them. On the screen the black and whitecave flowed steadily towards them. Minute after minute went by this way. Each time the animals attacked again, a few more gas grenades were usedup. 

"Something ahead--looks different, " the panting voice cracked from thespeaker. The narrow cave slowly opened out into a gigantic chamber, solarge the roof and far walls were lost in the distance. 

"What are those?" Kerk asked. "Get a searchlight over to the rightthere. "

The picture on the screen was fuzzy and hard to see now, dimmed by thelayers of rock in-between. Details couldn't be made out clearly, but itwas obvious this was something unusual. 

"Never saw . . . Anything quite like them before, " the speaker said. "Looklike big plants of some kind, ten meters tall at least--yet they'removing. Those branches, tentacles or whatever they are, keep pointingtowards us and I get the darkest feeling in my head . . . "

"Blast one, see what happens, " Kerk said. 

The gun fired and at the same instant an intensified wave of mentalhatred rolled over the men, dropping them to the ground. They rolled inpain, blacked out and unable to think or fight the underground beaststhat poured over them in renewed attack. 

In the ship, far above, Jason felt the shock to his mind and wonderedhow the men below could have lived through it. The others in the controlroom had been hit by it as well. Kerk pounded on the frame of the screenand shouted to the unhearing men below. 

"Pull back, come back . . . "

It was too late. The men only stirred slightly as the victorious Pyrrananimals washed over them, clawing for the joints in their armor. Onlyone man moved, standing up and beating the creatures away with his barehands. He stumbled a few feet and bent over the writhing mass below him. With a heave of his shoulders he pulled another man up. The man was deadbut his shoulder pack was still strapped to his back. Bloody fingersfumbled at the pack, then both men were washed back under the wave ofdeath. 

"That was the bomb!" Kerk shouted to Meta. "If he didn't change thesetting, it's still on ten-second minimum. Get out of here!"

 * * * * *

Jason had just time to fall back on the acceleration couch before therockets blasted. The pressure leaned on him and kept mounting. Visionblacked out but he didn't lose consciousness. Air screamed across thehull, then the sound stopped as they left the atmosphere behind. 

Just as Meta cut the power a glare of white light burst from thescreens. They turned black instantly as the hull pickups burned out. Sheswitched filters into place, then pressed the button that rotated newpickups into position. 

Far below, in the boiling sea, a climbing cloud of mushroom-shaped flamefilled the spot where the island had been seconds before. The three ofthem looked at it, silently and unmoving. Kerk recovered first. 

"Head for home, Meta, and get operations on the screen. Twenty-five mendead, but they did their job. They knocked out those beasts--whateverthey were--and ended the war. I can't think of a better way for a man todie. "

Meta set the orbit, then called operations. 

"Trouble getting through, " she said. "I have a robot landing beamresponse, but no one is answering the call. "

A man appeared on the empty screen. He was beaded with sweat and had aharried look in his eyes. "Kerk, " he said, "is that you? Get the shipback here at once. We need her firepower at the perimeter. All blazesbroke loose a minute ago, a general attack from every side, worse thanI've ever seen. "

"What do you mean?" Kerk stammered in unbelief. "The war is over--weblasted them, destroyed their headquarters completely. "

"The war is going like it never has gone before, " the other snappedback. "I don't know what you did, but it stirred up the stewpot of hellhere. Now stop talking and get the ship back!"

Kerk turned slowly to face Jason, his face pulled back in a look of rawanimal savagery. 

"You--! You did it! I should have killed you the first time I saw you. Iwanted to, now I know I was right. You've been like a plague since youcame here, sowing death in every direction. I knew you were wrong, yet Ilet your twisted words convince me. And look what has happened. Firstyou killed Welf. Then you murdered those men in the cave. Now thisattack on the perimeter--all who die there, you will have killed!"

Kerk advanced on Jason, step by slow step, hatred twisting his features. Jason backed away until he could retreat no further, his shouldersagainst the chart case. Kerk's hand lashed out, not a fighting blow, butan open slap. Though Jason rolled with it, it still battered him andstretched him full length on the floor. His arm was against the chartcase, his fingers near the sealed tubes that held the jump matrices. 

Jason seized one of the heavy tubes with both hands and pulled it out. He swung it with all his strength into Kerk's face. It broke the skinon his cheekbone and forehead and blood ran from the cuts. But it didn'tslow or stop the big man in the slightest. His smile held no mercy as hereached down and dragged Jason to his feet. 

"Fight back, " he said, "I will have that much more pleasure as I killyou. " He drew back the granite fist that would tear Jason's head fromhis shoulders. 

"Go ahead, " Jason said, and stopped struggling. "Kill me. You can do iteasily. Only don't call it justice. Welf died to save me. But the men onthe island died because of your stupidity. I wanted peace and you wantedwar. Now you have it. Kill me to soothe your conscience, because thetruth is something you can't face up to. "

With a bellow of rage Kerk drove the pile-driver fist down. 

Meta grabbed the arm in both her hands and hung on, pulling it asidebefore the blow could land. The three of them fell together, halfcrushing Jason. 

"Don't do it, " she screamed. "Jason didn't want those men to go downthere. That was your idea. You can't kill him for that!"

Kerk, exploding with rage, was past hearing. He turned his attention toMeta, tearing her from him. She was a woman and her supple strength wasmeager compared to his great muscles. But she was a Pyrran woman and shedid what no off-worlder could. She slowed him for a moment, stopped thefury of his attack until he could rip her hands loose and throw heraside. It didn't take him long to do this, but it was just time enoughfor Jason to get to the door. 

 * * * * *

Jason stumbled through, and jammed shut the lock behind him. A splitsecond after he had driven the bolt home Kerk's weight plunged into thedoor. The metal screamed and bent, giving way. One hinge was torn looseand the other held only by a shred of metal. It would go down on thenext blow. 

Jason wasn't waiting for that. He hadn't stayed to see if the door wouldstop the raging Pyrran. No door on the ship could stop him. Fast aspossible, Jason went down the gangway. There was no safety on the ship, which meant he had to get off it. The lifeboat deck was just ahead. 

Ever since first seeing them, he had given a lot of thought to thelifeboats. Though he hadn't looked ahead to this situation, he knew atime might come when he would need transportation of his own. Thelifeboats had seemed to be the best bet, except that Meta had told himthey had no fuel. She had been right in one thing--the boat he had beenin had empty tanks, he had checked. There were five other boats, though, that he hadn't examined. He had wondered about the idea of uselesslifeboats and come to what he hoped was a correct conclusion. 

This spaceship was the only one the Pyrrans had. Meta had told him oncethat they always had planned to buy another ship, but never did. Someother necessary war expense managed to come up first. One ship wasreally enough for their uses. The only difficulty lay in the fact theyhad to keep that ship in operation or the Pyrran city was dead. Withoutsupplies they would be wiped out in a few months. Therefore the ship'screw couldn't conceive of abandoning their ship. No matter what kind oftrouble she got into, they couldn't leave her. When the ship died, sodid their world. 

With this kind of thinking, there was no need to keep the lifeboatsfueled. Not all of them, at least. Though it stood to reason at leastone of them held fuel for short flights that would have been wastefulfor the parent ship. At this point Jason's chain of logic grew weak. Toomany "ifs. " _If_ they used the lifeboats at all, one of them should befueled. _If_ they did, it would be fueled now. And _if_ it werefueled--which one of the six would it be? Jason had no time to golooking. He had to be right the first time. 

His reasoning had supplied him with an answer, the last of a long lineof suppositions. If a boat were fueled, it should be the one nearest tothe control cabin. The one he was diving towards now. His life dependedon this string of guesses. 

Behind him the door went down with a crash. Kerk bellowed and leaped. Jason hurled himself through the lifeboat port with the nearest thing toa run he could manage under the doubled gravity. With both hands hegrabbed the emergency launching handle and pulled down. 

An alarm bell rang and the port slammed shut, literally in Kerk's face. Only his Pyrran reflexes saved him from being smashed by it. 

Solid-fuel launchers exploded and blasted the lifeboat clear of theparent ship. Their brief acceleration slammed Jason to the deck, then hefloated as the boat went into free fall. The main drive rockets didn'tfire. 

[Illustration]

In that moment Jason learned what it was like to know he was dead. Without fuel the boat would drop into the jungle below, falling like arock and blasting apart when it hit. There was no way out. 

Then the rockets caught, roared, and he dropped to the deck, bruisinghis nose. He sat up, rubbing it and grinning. There was fuel in thetanks--the delay in starting had only been part of the launching cycle, giving the lifeboat time to fall clear of the ship. Now to get it undercontrol. He pulled himself into the pilot's seat. 

The altimeter had fed information to the autopilot, leveling the boatoff parallel to the ground. Like all lifeboat controls these werechildishly simple, designed to be used by novices in an emergency. Theautopilot could not be shut off, it rode along with the manual controls, tempering foolish piloting. Jason hauled the control wheel into a tightturn and the autopilot gentled it to a soft curve. 

Through the port he could see the big ship blaring fire in a muchtighter turn. Jason didn't know who was flying it or what they had inmind--he took no chances. Jamming the wheel forward into a dive hecursed as they eased into a gentle drop. The larger ship had no suchrestrictions. It changed course with a violent maneuver and dived onhim. The forward turret fired and an explosion at the stern rocked thelittle boat. This either knocked out the autopilot or shocked it intosubmission. The slow drop turned into a power dive and the junglebillowed up. 

Jason pulled the wheel back and there was just time to get his arms infront of his face before they hit. 

Thundering rockets and cracking trees ended in a great splash. Silencefollowed and the smoke drifted away. High above, the spaceship circledhesitantly. Dropping a bit as if wanting to go down and investigate. Then rising again as the urgent message for aid came from the city. Loyalty won and she turned and spewed fire towards home. 

XXIII. 

Tree branches had broken the lifeboat's fall, the bow rockets had burnedout in emergency blast, and the swamp had cushioned the landing a bit. It was still a crash. The battered cylinder sank slowly into thestagnant water and thin mud of the swamp. The bow was well under beforeJason managed to kick open the emergency hatch in the waist. 

There was no way of knowing how long it would take for the boat to gounder, and Jason was in no condition to ponder the situation. Concussedand bloody, he had just enough drive left to get himself out. Wading andfalling he made his way to firmer land, sitting down heavily as soon ashe found something that would support him. 

Behind him the lifeboat burbled and sank under the water. Bubbles oftrapped air kept rising for a while, then stopped. The water stilledand, except for the broken branches and trees, there was no sign that aship had ever come this way. 

Insects whined across the swamp, and the only sound that broke the quietof the woods beyond was the cruel scream of an animal pulling down itsdinner. When that had echoed away in tiny waves of sound everything wassilent. 

Jason pulled himself out of the half trance with an effort. His bodyfelt like it had been through a meat grinder, and it was almostimpossible to think with the fog in his head. After minutes ofdeliberation he figured out that the medikit was what he needed. Theeasy-off snap was very difficult and the button release didn't work. Hefinally twisted his arm around until it was under the orifice andpressed the entire unit down. It buzzed industriously, though hecouldn't feel the needles, he guessed it had worked. His sight spundizzily for a while then cleared. Pain-killers went to work and heslowly came out of the dark cloud that had enveloped his brain since thecrash. 

Reason returned and loneliness rode along with it. He was without food, friendless, surrounded by the hostile forces of an alien planet. Therewas a rising panic that started deep inside of him, that tookconcentrated effort to hold down. 

"Think, Jason, don't emote, " he said it aloud to reassure himself, butwas instantly sorry, because his voice sounded weak in the emptiness, with a ragged edge of hysteria to it. Something caught in his throat andhe coughed to clear it, spitting out blood. Looking at the red stain hewas suddenly angry. Hating this deadly planet and the incrediblestupidity of the people who lived on it. Cursing out loud was better andhis voice didn't sound as weak now. He ended up shouting and shaking hisfist at nothing in particular, but it helped. The anger washed away thefear and brought him back to reality. 

Sitting on the ground felt good now. The sun was warm and when he leanedback he could almost forget the unending burden of doubled gravity. Anger had carried away fear, rest erased fatigue. From somewhere in theback of his mind there popped up the old platitude. _Where there's life, there's hope. _ He grimaced at the triteness of the words, at the sametime realizing that a basic truth lurked there. 

Count his assets. Well battered, but still alive. None of the bruisesseemed very important, and no bones were broken. His gun was stillworking, it dipped in and out of the power holster as he thought aboutit. Pyrrans made rugged equipment. The medikit was operating as well. Ifhe kept his senses, managed to walk in a fairly straight line and couldlive off the land, there was a fair chance he might make it back to thecity. What kind of a reception would be waiting for him there was adifferent matter altogether. He would find that out after he arrived. Getting there had first priority. 

On the debit side there stood the planet Pyrrus. Strength-sappinggravity, murderous weather, and violent animals. Could he survive? As ifto add emphasis to his thoughts, the sky darkened over and rain hissedinto the forest, marching towards him. Jason scrambled to his feet andtook a bearing before the rain closed down visibility. A jagged chain ofmountains stood dimly on the horizon, he remembered crossing them on theflight out. They would do as a first goal. After he had reached them, hewould worry about the next leg of the journey. 

 * * * * *

Leaves and dirt flew before the wind in quick gusts, then the rainwashed over him. Soaked, chilled, already bone-tired, he pitted thetottering strength of his legs against the planet of death. 

When nightfall came it was still raining. There was no way of being sureof the direction, and no point in going on. If that wasn't enough, Jasonwas on the ragged edge of exhaustion. It was going to be a wet night. All the trees were thick-boled and slippery, he couldn't have climbedthem on a one-G world. The sheltered spots that he investigated, underfallen trees and beneath thick bushes, were just as wet as the rest ofthe forest. In the end he curled up on the leeward side of a tree, andfell asleep, shivering, with the water dripping off him. 

The rain stopped around midnight and the temperature fell sharply. Jasonwoke sluggishly from a dream in which he was being frozen to death, tofind it was almost true. Fine snow was sifting through the trees, powdering the ground and drifting against him. The cold bit into hisflesh, and when he sneezed it hurt his chest. His aching and numb bodyonly wanted rest, but the spark of reason that remained in him, forcedhim to his feet. If he lay down now, he would die. Holding one handagainst the tree so he wouldn't fall, he began to trudge around it. Stepafter shuffling step, around and around, until the terrible cold eased abit and he could stop shivering. Fatigue crawled up him like a muffling, gray blanket. He kept on walking, half the time with his eyes closed. Opening them only when he fell and had to climb painfully to his feetagain. 

The sun burned away the snow clouds at dawn. Jason leaned against histree and blinked up at the sky with sore eyes. The ground was white inall directions, except around the tree where his stumbling feet hadchurned a circle of black mud. His back against the smooth trunk, Jasonsank slowly down to the ground, letting the sun soak into him. 

Exhaustion had him light-headed, and his lips were cracked from thirst. Almost continuous coughing tore at his chest with fingers of fire. Though the sun was still low it was hot already, burning his skin dry. Dry and hot. 

It wasn't right. This thought kept nagging at his brain until headmitted it. Turned it over and over and looked at it from all sides. What wasn't right? The way he felt. 

Pneumonia. He had all the symptoms. 

His dry lips cracked and blood moistened them when he smiled. He hadavoided all the animal perils of Pyrrus, all the big carnivores andpoisonous reptiles, only to be laid low by the smallest beast of themall. Well, he had the remedy for this one, too. Rolling up his sleevewith shaking fingers, he pressed the mouth of the medikit to his barearm. It clicked and began to drone an angry whine. That meant something, he knew, but he just couldn't remember what. Holding it up he saw thatone of the hypodermics was projecting halfway from its socket. Ofcourse. It was empty of whatever antibiotic the analyzer had called for. It needed refilling. 

Jason hurled the thing away with a curse, and it splashed into a pooland was gone. End of medicine, end of medikit, end of Jason dinAlt. Single-handed battler against the perils of deathworld. Strong-heartedstranger who could do as well as the natives. It had taken him all ofone day on his own to get his death warrant signed. 

 * * * * *

A choking growl echoed behind him. He turned, dropped and fired in thesame motion. It was all over before his conscious mind was aware it hadhappened. Pyrran training had conditioned his reflexes on thepre-cortical level. Jason gaped at the ugly beast dying not a meter fromhim and realized he had been trained well. 

His first reaction was unhappiness that he had killed one of the grubberdogs. When he looked closer he realized this animal was slightlydifferent in markings, size and temper. Though most of its forequarterswere blown away, blood pumping out in dying spurts, it kept trying toreach Jason. Before the eyes glazed with death it had struggled its wayalmost to his feet. 

It wasn't quite a grubber dog, though chances were it was a wildrelative. Bearing the same relation as dog to wolf. He wondered if therewere any other resemblances between wolves and this dead beast. Did theyhunt in packs, too?

As soon as the thought hit him he looked up--not a moment too soon. Thegreat forms were drifting through the trees, closing in on him. When heshot two, the others snarled with rage and sank back into the forest. They didn't leave. Instead of being frightened by the deaths they greweven more enraged. 

Jason sat with his back to the tree and waited until they came closebefore he picked them off. With each shot and dying scream the outragedsurvivors howled the louder. Some of them fought when they met, ventingtheir rage. One stood on his hind legs and raked great strips of barkfrom a tree. Jason aimed a shot at it, but he was too far away to hit. 

There were advantages to having a fever, he realized. Logically he knewhe would live only to sunset, or until his gun was empty. Yet the factdidn't bother him greatly. Nothing really mattered. He slumped, relaxedcompletely, only raising his arm to fire, then letting it drop again. Every few minutes he had to move to look in back of the tree, and killany of them that were stalking him in the blind spot. He wished dimlythat he were leaning against a smaller tree, but it wasn't worth theeffort to go to one. 

Sometime in the afternoon he fired his last shot. It killed an animal hehad allowed to get close. He had noticed he was missing the longershots. The beast snarled and dropped, the others that were close pulledback and howled in sympathy. One of them exposed himself and Jasonpulled the trigger. 

There was only a slight click. He tried again, in case it was just amisfire, but there was still only the click. The gun was empty, as wasthe spare clip pouch at his belt. There were vague memories ofreloading, though he couldn't remember how many times he had done it. 

This, then, was the end. They had all been right, Pyrrus was a match forhim. Though they shouldn't talk. It would kill them all in the end, too. Pyrrans never died in bed. Old Pyrrans never died, they just got et. 

Now that he didn't have to force himself to stay alert and hold the gun, the fever took hold. He wanted to sleep and he knew it would be a longsleep. His eyes were almost closed as he watched the wary carnivoresslip closer to him. The first one crept close enough to spring, he couldsee the muscles tensing in its leg. 

It leaped. Whirling in midair and falling before it reached him. Bloodran from its gaping mouth and the short shaft of metal projected fromthe side of his head. 

The two men walked out of the brush and looked down at him. Their merepresence seemed to have been enough for the carnivores, because they allvanished. 

Grubbers. He had been in such a hurry to reach the city that he hadforgotten about the grubbers. It was good that they were here and Jasonwas very glad they had come. He couldn't talk very well, so he smiled tothank them. But this hurt his lips too much so he went to sleep. 

XXIV. 

For a strange length of time after that, there were only hazy patches ofmemory that impressed themselves on Jason. A sense of movement and largebeasts around him. Walls, wood-smoke, the murmur of voices. None of itmeant very much and he was too tired to care. It was easier and muchbetter just to let go. 

 * * * * *

"About time, " Rhes said. "A couple more days lying there like that andwe would have buried you, even if you were still breathing. "

[Illustration]

Jason blinked at him, trying to focus the face that swam above him. Hefinally recognized Rhes, and wanted to answer him. But talking onlybrought on a spell of body-wracking coughing. Someone held a cup to hislips and sweet fluid trickled down his throat. He rested, then triedagain. 

"How long have I been here?" The voice was thin and sounded far away. Jason had trouble recognizing it for his own. 

"Eight days. And why didn't you listen when I talked to you?" Rhessaid. 

"You should have stayed near the ship when you crashed. Didn't youremember what I said about coming down anywhere on this continent? Nomatter, too late to worry about that. Next time listen to what I say. Our people moved fast and reached the site of the wreck before dark. They found the broken trees and the spot where the ship had sunk, and atfirst thought whoever had been in it had drowned. Then one of the dogsfound your trail, but lost it again in the swamps during the night. Theyhad a fine time with the mud and the snow and didn't have any luck atall in finding the spoor again. By the next afternoon they were ready tosend for more help when they heard your firing. Just made it, from whatI hear. Lucky one of them was a talker and could tell the wild dogs toclear out. Would have had to kill them all otherwise, and that's nothealthy. "

"Thanks for saving my neck, " Jason said. "That was closer than I like tocome. What happened after? I was sure I was done for, I remember thatmuch. Diagnosed all the symptoms of pneumonia. Guaranteed fatal in mycondition without treatment. Looks like you were wrong when you saidmost of your remedies were useless--they seemed to work well on me. "

His voice died off as Rhes shook his head in a slow _no_, lines of worrysharp-cut into his face. Jason looked around and saw Naxa and anotherman. They had the same deeply unhappy expressions as Rhes. 

"What is it?" Jason asked, feeling the trouble. "If your remedies didn'twork--what did? Not my medikit. That was empty. I remember losing it orthrowing it away. "

"You were dying, " Rhes said slowly. "We couldn't cure you. Only ajunkman medicine machine could do that. We got one from the driver ofthe food truck. "

"But how?" Jason asked, dazed. "You told me the city forbids youmedicine. He couldn't give you his own medikit. Not unless he was--"

Rhes nodded and finished the sentence. "Dead. Of course he was dead. Ikilled him myself, with a great deal of pleasure. "

This hit Jason hard. He sagged against the pillows and thought of allthose who had died since he had come to Pyrrus. The men who had died tosave him, died so he could live, died because of his ideas. It was aburden of guilt that he couldn't bear to think about. Would it stop withKrannon--or would the city people try to avenge his death?

"Don't you realize what that means!" he gasped out the words. "Krannon'sdeath will turn the city against you. There'll be no more supplies. They'll attack you when they can, kill your people--"

"Of course we know that!" Rhes leaned forward, his voice hoarse andintense. "It wasn't an easy decision to come to. We have always had atrading agreement with the junkmen. The trading trucks were inviolate. This was our last and only link to the galaxy outside and eventual hopeof contacting them. "

"Yet you broke that link to save me--why?"

"Only you can answer that question completely. There was a great attackon the city and we saw their walls broken, they had to be moved back atone place. At the same time the spaceship was over the ocean, droppingbombs of some kind--the flash was reported. Then the ship returned and_you_ left it in a smaller ship. They fired at you but didn't kill you. The little ship wasn't destroyed either, we are starting to raise itnow. What does it all mean? We had no way of telling. We only knew itwas something vitally important. You were alive, but would obviously diebefore you could talk. The small ship might be repaired to fly, perhapsthat was your plan and that is why you stole it for us. We _couldn't_let you die, not even if it meant all-out war with the city. Thesituation was explained to all of our people who could be reached byscreen and they voted to save you. I killed the junkman for hismedicine, then rode two doryms to death to get here in time. 

"Now tell us--what does it mean? What is your plan? How will it helpus?"

 * * * * *

Guilt leaned on Jason and stifled his mouth. A fragment of an ancientlegend cut across his mind, about the jonah who wrecked the spacer soall in it died, yet he lived. Was that he? Had he wrecked a world? Couldhe dare admit to these people that he had taken the lifeboat only tosave his own life?

The three Pyrrans leaned forward, waiting for his words. Jason closedhis eyes so he wouldn't see their faces. What could he tell them? If headmitted the truth they would undoubtedly kill him on the spot, considering it only justice. He wasn't fearful for his own life anymore, but if he died the other deaths would all have been in vain. Andthere still was a way to end this planetary war. All the facts wereavailable now, it was just a matter of putting them together. If only hewasn't so tired, he could see the solution. It was right there, lurkingaround a corner in his brain, waiting to be dragged out. 

Whatever he did, he couldn't admit the truth now. If he died all hopedied. He had to lie to gain time, then find the true solution as soon ashe was able. That was all he could do. 

"You were right, " Jason said haltingly. "The small ship has aninterstellar drive in it. Perhaps it can still be saved. Even if itcan't there is another way. I can't explain now, but I will tell youwhen I am rested. Don't worry. The fight is almost over. "

They laughed and pounded each other on the back. When they came to shakehis hand as well, he closed his eyes and made believe he was asleep. Itis very hard to be a hypocrite if you aren't trained for it. 

Rhes woke him early the next morning. "Do you feel well enough totravel?" he asked. 

"Depends what you mean by travel, " Jason told him. "If you mean under myown power, I doubt if I could get as far as that door. "

"You'll be carried, " Rhes broke in. "We have a litter swung between twodoryms. Not too comfortable, but you'll get there. But only if you thinkyou are well enough to move. We called all the people within ridingdistance and they are beginning to gather. By this afternoon we willhave enough men and doryms to pull the ship out of the swamp. "

"I'll come, " Jason said, pushing himself to a sitting position. Theeffort exhausted him, bringing a wave of nausea. Only by leaning hisfull weight against the wall could he keep from falling back. He sat, propped there, until he heard shouts and the stamping of heavy feetoutside, and they came to carry him out. 

The trip drained away his small store of energy, and he fell into anexhausted sleep. When he opened his eyes the doryms were standing kneedeep in the swamp and the salvage operation had begun. Ropes vanishedout of sight in the water while lines of struggling animals and menhauled at them. The beasts bellowed, the men cursed as they slipped andfell. All of the Pyrrans tugging on the lines weren't male, women werethere as well. Shorter on the average than the men, they were just asbrawny. Their clothing was varied and many-colored, the first touch ofdecoration Jason had seen on this planet. 

Getting the ship up was a heart-breaking job. The mud sucked at it andunderwater roots caught on the vanes. Divers plunged time and again intothe brown water to cut them free. Progress was incredibly slow, but thework never stopped. Jason's brain was working even slower. The shipwould be hauled up eventually--what would he do then? He had to have anew plan by that time, but thinking was impossible work. His thoughtscorkscrewed and he had to fight down the rising feeling of panic. 

The sun was low when the ship's nose finally appeared above the water. Aragged cheer broke out at first sight of that battered cone of metal andthey went ahead with new energy. 

Jason was the first one who noticed the dorym weaving towards them. Thedogs saw it, of course, and ran out and sniffed. The rider shouted tothe dogs and kicked angrily at the sides of his mount. Even at thisdistance Jason could see the beast's heaving sides and yellowfoam-flecked hide. It was barely able to stagger now and the man jumpeddown, running ahead on foot. He was shouting something as he ran thatcouldn't be heard above the noise. 

There was a single moment when the sounds slacked a bit and the runningman's voice could be heard. He was calling the same word over and overagain. It sounded like _wait_, but Jason couldn't be sure. Others hadheard him though, and the result was instantaneous. They stopped, unmoving, where they were. Many of those holding the ropes let go ofthem. Only the quick action of the anchor men kept the ship from slidingback under, dragging the harnessed doryms with it. A wave of silencewashed across the swamp in the wake of the running man's shouts. Theycould be heard clearly now. 

"_Quake! Quake on the way! South--only safe way is south!_"

One by one the ropes dropped back into the water and the Pyrrans turnedto wade to solid land. Before they were well started Rhes' voice crackedout. 

"Stay at work! Get the ship up, it's our only hope now. I'll talk toHananas, find out how much time we have. "

These solitary people were unused to orders. They stopped and milledabout, reason fighting with the urgent desire to run. One by one theystepped back to the ropes as they worked out the sense of Rhes' words. As soon as it was clear the work would continue he turned away. 

"What is it? What's happening?" Jason called to him as he ran by. 

"It's Hananas, " Rhes said, stopping by the litter, waiting for thenewcomer to reach him. "He's a quakeman. They know when quakes arecoming, before they happen. "

Hananas ran up, panting and tired. He was a short man, built like abarrel on stubby legs, a great white beard covering his neck and the topof his chest. Another time Jason might have laughed at his incongruouswaddle, but not now. There was a charged difference in the air since thelittle man had arrived. 

"Why didn't . . . You have somebody near a plate? I called all over thisarea without an answer. Finally . . . Had to come myself--"

"How much time do we have?" Rhes cut in. "We have to get that ship upbefore we pull out. "

"Time! Who knows about time!" the graybeard cursed. "Get out or you'redead. "

"Calm down, Han, " Rhes said in a quieter voice, taking the oldster'sarms in both his hands. "You know what we're doing here--and how muchdepends on getting the ship up. Now how does it feel? This going to be afast one or a slow one?"

"Fast. Faster than anything I felt in a long time. She's starting faraway though, if you had a plate here I bet Mach or someone else up nearthe firelands would be reporting new eruptions. It's on the way and, ifwe don't get out soon, we're not getting out t'all. "

 * * * * *

There was a burble of water as the ship was hauled out a bit farther. Noone talked now and there was a fierce urgency in their movements. Jasonstill wasn't sure exactly what had happened. 

"Don't shoot me for a foreigner, " he said, "but just what is wrong? Areyou expecting earthquakes here, are you sure?"

"Sure!" Hananas screeched. "Of course I'm sure. If I wasn't sure Iwouldn't be a quakeman. It's on the way. "

"There's no doubt of that, " Rhes added. "I don't know how you can tellon your planet when quakes or vulcanism are going to start, machinesmaybe. We have nothing like that. But quakemen, like Hananas here, always know about them before they happen. If the word can be passedfast enough, we get away. The quake is coming all right, the only thingin doubt is how much time we have. "

The work went on and there was a good chance they would die long beforeit was finished. All for nothing. The only way Jason could get them tostop would be to admit the ship was useless. He would be killed then andthe grubber chances would die with him. He chewed his lip as the sun setand the work continued by torchlight. 

Hananas paced around, grumbling under his breath, halting only to glanceat the northern horizon. The people felt his restlessness andtransmitted it to the animals. Dogfights broke out and the doryms pulledreluctantly at their harnesses. With each passing second their chancesgrew slimmer and Jason searched desperately for a way out of the trap ofhis own constructing. 

"Look--" someone said, and they all turned. The sky to the north was litwith a red light. There was a rumble in the ground that was felt morethan heard. The surface of the water blurred, then broke into patternsof tiny waves. Jason turned away from the light, looking at the waterand the ship. It was higher now, the top of the stern exposed. There wasa gaping hole here, blasted through the metal by the spaceship's guns. 

"Rhes, " he called, his words jammed together in the rush to get themout. "Look at the ship, at the hole blasted in her stern. I landed onthe rockets and didn't know how badly she was hit. But the guns hit thestar drive!"

Rhes gaped at him unbelievingly as he went on. Improvising, playing byear, trying to manufacture lies that rang of the truth. 

"I watched them install the drive--it's an auxiliary to the otherengines. It was bolted to the hull right there. It's gone now, blown up. The boat will never leave this planet, much less go to another star. "

He couldn't look Rhes in the eyes after that. He sank back into the fursthat had been propped behind him, feeling the weakness even more. Rheswas silent and Jason couldn't tell if his story had been believed. Onlywhen the Pyrran bent and slashed the nearest rope did he know he hadwon. 

The word passed from man to man and the ropes were cut silently. Behindthem the ship they had labored so hard over, sank back into the water. None of them watched. Each was locked in his own world of thought asthey formed up to leave. As soon as the doryms were saddled and packedthey started out, Hananas leading the way. Within minutes they were allmoving, a single file that vanished into the darkness. 

Jason's litter had to be left behind, it would have been smashed topieces in the night march. Rhes pulled him up into the saddle beforehim, locking his body into place with a steel-hard arm. The trekcontinued. 

When they left the swamp they changed directions sharply. A little laterJason knew why, when the southern sky exploded. Flames lit the scenebrightly, ashes sifted down and hot lumps of rock crashed into thetrees. They steamed when they hit, and if it hadn't been for the earlierrain they would have been faced with a forest fire as well. 

Something large loomed up next to the line of march, and when theycrossed an open space Jason looked at it in the reflected light from thesky. 

"Rhes--" he choked, pointing. Rhes looked at the great beast moving nextto them, shaggy body and twisted horns as high as their shoulders, thenlooked away. He wasn't frightened or apparently interested. Jason lookedaround then and began to understand. 

All of the fleeing animals made no sound, that's why he hadn't noticedthem before. But on both sides dark forms ran between the trees. Some herecognized, most of them he didn't. For a few minutes a pack of wilddogs ran near them, even mingling with the domesticated dogs. No noticewas taken. Flying things flapped overhead. Under the greater threat ofthe volcanoes all other battles were forgotten. Life respected life. Aherd of fat, piglike beasts with curling tusks, blundered through theline. The doryms slowed, picking their steps carefully so they wouldn'tstep on them. Smaller animals sometimes clung to the backs of the biggerones, riding untouched a while, before they leaped off. 

Pounded mercilessly by the saddle, Jason fell wearily into a lightsleep. It was shot through with dreams of the rushing animals, hurryingon forever in silence. With his eyes open or shut he saw the sameendless stream of beasts. 

It all meant something, and he frowned as he tried to think what. Animals running, Pyrran animals. 

He sat bolt upright suddenly, wide awake, staring down in comprehension. 

"What is it?" Rhes asked. 

"Go on, " Jason said. "Get us out of this, and get us out safely. I toldyou the lifeboat wasn't the only answer. I know how your people can getwhat they want--end the war now. There _is_ a way, and I know how it canbe done. "

XXV. 

There were few coherent memories of the ride. Some things stood outsharply like the spaceship-sized lump of burning scoria that had plungedinto a lake near them, showering the line with hot drops of water. Butmostly it was just a seemingly endless ride, with Jason still too weakto care much about it. By dawn the danger area was behind them and themarch had slowed to a walk. The animals had vanished as the quake wasleft behind, going their own ways, still in silent armistice. 

The peace of mutually shared danger was over, Jason found that out whenthey stopped to rest and eat. He and Rhes went to sit on the soft grass, near a fallen tree. A wild dog had arrived there first. It lay under thelog, muscles tensed, the ruddy morning light striking a red glint fromits eyes. Rhes faced it, not three meters away, without moving a muscle. He made no attempt to reach one of his weapons or to call for help. Jason stood still as well, hoping the Pyrran knew what he was doing. 

With no warning at all the dog sprang straight at them. Jason fellbackwards as Rhes pushed him aside. The Pyrran dropped at the sametime--only now his hand held the long knife, yanked from the sheathstrapped to his thigh. With unseen speed the knife came up, the dogtwisted in midair, trying to bite it. Instead it sank in behind thedog's forelegs, the beast's own weight tearing a deadly gaping wound thelength of its body. It was still alive when it hit the ground, but Rheswas astraddle it, pulling back the bony-plated head to cut the softthroat underneath. 

The Pyrran carefully cleaned his knife on the dead animal's fur, thenreturned it to the sheath. "They're usually no trouble, " he saidquietly, "but it was excited. Probably lost the rest of the pack in thequake. " His actions were the direct opposite of the city Pyrrans. He hadnot looked for trouble nor started the fight. Instead he had avoided itas long as he could. But when the beast charged it had been neatly andefficiently dispatched. Now, instead of gloating over his victory, heseemed troubled over an unnecessary death. 

It made sense. Everything on Pyrrus made sense. Now he knew how thedeadly planetary battle had started--and he knew how it could be ended. All the deaths had _not_ been in vain. Each one had helped him along theroad a little more towards the final destination. There was just onefinal thing to be done. 

Rhes was watching him now, and he knew they shared the same thoughts. "Explain yourself, " Rhes said. "What did you mean when you said we couldwipe out the junkmen and get our freedom?"

Jason didn't bother to correct the misquote, it was best they considerhim a hundred per cent on their side. 

"Get the others together and I'll tell you. I particularly want to seeNaxa and any other talkers who are here. "

 * * * * *

They gathered quickly when the word was passed. All of them knew thatthe junkman had been killed to save this off-worlder, that their hope ofsalvation lay with him. Jason looked at the crowd of faces turnedtowards him and reached for the right words to tell them what had to bedone. It didn't help to know that many of them would be killed doing it. 

"The small star ship can't be used, " he said. "You all saw that it wasruined beyond repair. But that was the easy way out. The hard way isstill left. Though some of you may die, in the long run it will be thebest solution. 

"We are going to invade the city, break through the perimeter. I knowhow it can be done . . . "

[Illustration]

A mutter of sound spread across the crowd. Some of them looked excited, happy with the thought of killing their hereditary enemies. Othersstared at Jason as if he were mad. A few were dazed at the magnitude ofthe thought, this carrying of the battle to the stronghold of theheavily armed enemy. They quieted when Jason raised his hand. 

"I know it sounds impossible, " he said. "But let me explain. Somethingmust be done--and now is the time to do it. The situation can only getworse from now on. The city Pyrr . . . The junkmen can get along withoutyour food, their concentrates taste awful but they sustain life. Butthey are going to turn against you in every way they can. No more metalsfor your tools or replacements for your electronic equipment. Theirhatred will probably make them seek out your farms and destroy them fromthe ship. All of this won't be comfortable--and there will be worse tocome. In the city they are losing their war against this planet. Eachyear there are less of them, and some day they will all be dead. Knowinghow they feel I am sure they will destroy their ship first, and theentire planet as well, if that is possible. "

"How can we stop them?" someone called out. 

"By hitting _now_, " Jason answered. "I know all the details of the cityand I know how the defenses are set up. Their perimeter is designed toprotect them from animal life, but we could break through it if we werereally determined. "

"What good would that do?" Rhes snapped. "We crack the perimeter andthey draw back--then counter-attack in force. How can we stand againsttheir weapons?"

"We won't have to. Their spaceport touches the perimeter, and I know theexact spot where the ship stands. That is the place where we will breakthrough. There is no formal guard on the ship and only a few people inthe area. We will capture the ship. Whether we can fly it or not isunimportant. Who controls the ship controls Pyrrus. Once there wethreaten to destroy it if they don't meet our terms. They have thechoice of mass suicide or co-operation. I hope they have the brains toco-operate. "

His words shocked them into silence for an instant, then they surgedinto a wave of sound. There was no agreement, just excitement, and Rhesfinally brought them to order. 

"Quiet!" he shouted. "Wait until Jason finishes before you decide. Westill haven't heard how this proposed invasion is to be accomplished. "

"The plan I have depends on the talkers. " Jason said. "Is Naxa there?"He waited until the fur-wrapped man had pushed to the front. "I want toknow more about the talkers, Naxa. I know you can speak to doryms andthe dogs here--but what about the wild animals? Can you make them dowhat you want?"

"They're animals . . . Course we can talk t'them. Th'more talkers, th'morepower. Make 'em do just what we want. "

"Then the attack will work, " Jason said excitedly. "Could you get yourtalkers all on one side of the city--the opposite side from thespaceport--and stir the animals up? Make them attack the perimeter?"

"Could we!" Naxa shouted, carried away by the idea. "We'd bring inanimals from all over, start th'biggest attack they ev'r saw!"

"Then that's it. Your talkers will launch the attack on the far side ofthe perimeter. If you keep out of sight, the guards will have no ideathat it is anything more than an animal attack. I've seen how they work. As an attack mounts they call for reserves inside the city and drain menaway from the other parts of the perimeter. At the height of the battle, when they have all their forces committed across the city, I'll lead theattack that will break through and capture the ship. That's the plan andit's going to work. "

Jason sat down then, half fell down, drained of strength. He lay andlistened as the debate went back and forth, Rhes ordering it and keepingit going. Difficulties were raised and eliminated. No one could find abasic fault with the plan. There were plenty of flaws in it, things thatmight go wrong, but Jason didn't mention them. These people wanted hisidea to work and they were going to make it work. 

It finally broke up and they moved away. Rhes came over to Jason. 

"The basics are settled, " he said. "All here are in agreement. They arespreading the word by messenger to all the talkers. The talkers are theheart of the attack, and the more we have, the better it will go off. Wedon't dare use the screens to call them, there is a good chance that thejunkmen can intercept our messages. It will take five days before we areready to go ahead. "

"I'll need all of that time if I'm to be any good, " Jason said. "Nowlet's get some rest. "

XXVI. 

"It's a strange feeling, " Jason said. "I've never really seen theperimeter from this side before. Ugly is about the only word for it. "

He lay on his stomach next to Rhes, looking through a screen of leaves, downhill towards the perimeter. They were both wrapped in heavy furs, inspite of the midday heat, with thick leggings and leather gauntlets toprotect their hands. The gravity and the heat were already making Jasondizzy, but he forced himself to ignore this. 

Ahead, on the far side of a burnt corridor, stood the perimeter. A highwall, of varying height and texture, seemingly made of everything in theworld. It was impossible to tell what it had originally been constructedof. Generations of attackers had bruised, broken, and undermined it. Repairs had been quickly made, patches thrust roughly into place andfixed there. Crude masonry crumbled and gave way to a rat's nest ofwoven timbers. This overlapped a length of pitted metal, large platesriveted together. Even this metal had been eaten through and burstingsandbags spilled out of a jagged hole. Over the surface of the walldetector wires and charged cables looped and hung. At odd intervalsautomatic flame-throwers thrust their nozzles over the wall above andswept the base of the wall clear of any life that might have come close. 

"Those flame things can cause us trouble, " Rhes said. "That one coversthe area where you want to break in. "

"It'll be no problem, " Jason assured him. "It may look like it is firinga random pattern, but it's really not. It varies a simple sweep justenough to fool an animal, but was never meant to keep men out. Look foryourself. It fires at regularly repeated two, four, three and one minuteintervals. "

They crawled back to the hollow where Naxa and the others waited forthem. There were only thirty men in the party. What they had to do couldonly be done with a fast, light force. Their strongest weapon wassurprise. Once that was gone their other weapons wouldn't hold out forseconds against the city guns. Everyone looked uncomfortable in the furand leather wrappings, and some of the men had loosened them to cooloff. 

"Wrap up, " Jason ordered. "None of you have been this close to theperimeter before and you don't understand how deadly it is here. Naxa iskeeping the larger animals away and you all can handle the smallerones. That isn't the danger. Every thorn is poisoned, and even theblades of grass carry a deadly sting. Watch out for insects of any kindand once we start moving breathe only through the wet cloths. "

"He's right, " Naxa snorted. "N'ver been closer'n this m'self. Death, death up by that wall. Do like 'e says. "

 * * * * *

They could only wait then, honing down already needle-sharp crossbowbolts, and glancing up at the slowly moving sun. Only Naxa didn't sharethe unrest. He sat, eyes unfocused, feeling the movement of animal lifein the jungle around them. 

"On the way, " he said. "Biggest thing I 'ver heard. Not a beast 'tweenhere and the mountains, ain't howlin' 'is lungs out, runnin' towards thecity. "

Jason was aware of part of it. A tension in the air and a wave ofintensified anger and hatred. It would work, he knew, if they could onlykeep the attack confined to a small area. The talkers had seemed sure ofit. They had stalked out quietly that morning, a thin line of raggedmen, moving out in a mental sweep that would round up the Pyrran lifeand send it charging against the city. 

"They hit!" Naxa said suddenly. 

The men were on their feet now, staring in the direction of the city. Jason had felt the twist as the attack had been driven home, and knewthat this was it. There was the sound of shots and a heavy booming faraway. Thin streamers of smoke began to blow above the treetops. 

"Let's get into position, " Rhes said. 

Around them the jungle howled with an echo of hatred. The half-sentientplants writhed and the air was thick with small flying things. Naxasweated and mumbled as he turned back the animals that crashed towardsthem. By the time they reached the last screen of foliage before theburned-out area, they had lost four men. One had been stung by aninsect, Jason got the medikit to him in time, but he was so sick he hadto turn back. The other three were bitten or scratched and treatmentcame too late. Their swollen, twisted bodies were left behind on thetrail. 

"Dam' beasts hurt m'head, " Naxa muttered. "When we go in?"

"Not yet, " Rhes said. "We wait for the signal. "

One of the men carried the radio. He sat it down carefully, then threwthe aerial over a branch. The set was shielded so no radiation leakedout to give them away. It was turned on, but only a hiss of atmosphericstatic came from the speaker. 

"We could have timed it--" Rhes said. 

"No we couldn't, " Jason told him. "Not accurately. We want to hit thatwall at the height of the attack, when our chances are best. Even ifthey hear the message it won't mean a thing to them inside. And a fewminutes later it won't matter. "

The sound from the speaker changed. A voice spoke a short sentence, thencut off. 

"_Bring me three barrels of flour. _"

"Let's go, " Rhes urged as he started forward. 

"Wait, " Jason said, taking him by the arm. "I'm timing theflame-thrower. It's due in . . . _there_!" A blast of fire sprayed theground, then turned off. "We have four minutes to the next one--we hitthe long period!"

 * * * * *

They ran, stumbling in the soft ashes, tripping over charred bones andrusted metal. Two men grabbed Jason under the arm and half-carried himacross the ground. It hadn't been planned that way, but it savedprecious seconds. They dropped him against the wall and he fumbled outthe bombs he had made. The charges from Krannon's gun, taken when he waskilled, had been hooked together with a firing circuit. All the moveshad been rehearsed carefully and they went smoothly now. 

Jason had picked the metal wall as being the best spot to break in. Itoffered the most resistance to the native life, so the chances were itwouldn't be reinforced with sandbags or fill, the way other parts of thewall were. If he was wrong, they were all dead. 

The first men had slapped their wads of sticky congealed sap against thewall. Jason pressed the charges into them and they stuck, a roughlyrectangular pattern as high as a man. While he did this the detonatingwire was run out to its length and the raiders pressed back against thebase of the wall. Jason stumbled through the ashes to the detonator, fell on it and pressed the switch at the same time. 

Behind him a thundering bang shook the wall and red flame burst out. Rhes was the first one there, pulling at the twisted and smoking metalwith his gloved hands. Others grabbed on and bent the jagged piecesaside. The hole was filled with smoke and nothing was visible throughit. Jason dived into the opening, rolled on a heap of rubble and smackedinto something solid. When he blinked the smoke from his eyes he lookedaround him. 

He was inside the city. 

The others poured through now, picking him up as they charged in so hewouldn't be trampled underfoot. Someone spotted the spaceship and theyran that way. 

A man ran around the corner of a building towards them. His Pyrranreflexes sent him springing into the safety of a doorway the same momenthe saw the invaders. But they were Pyrrans, too. The man slumped slowlyback onto the street, three metal bolts sticking out of his body. Theyran on without stopping, running between the low storehouses. The shipstood ahead. 

Someone had reached it ahead of them, they could see the outer hatchslowly grinding shut. A hail of bolts from the bows crashed into it withno effect. 

"Keep going!" Jason shouted. "Get next to the hull before he reaches theguns. "

This time three men didn't make it. The rest of them were under thebelly of the ship when every gun let go at once. Most of them wereaimed away from the ship, still the scream of shells and electricdischarges was ear-shattering. The three men still in the open dissolvedunder the fire. Whoever was inside the ship had hit all the gun trips atonce, both to knock out the attackers and summon aid. He would be on thescreen now, calling for help. Their time was running out. 

Jason reached up and tried to open the hatch, while the others watched. It was locked from the inside. One of the men brushed him aside andpulled at the inset handle. It broke off in his hand but the hatchremained closed. 

The big guns had stopped now and they could hear again. 

"Did anyone get the gun from that dead man?" he asked. "It would blowthis thing open. "

"No, " Rhes said, "we didn't stop. "

Before the words were out of his mouth two men were running back towardsthe buildings, angling away from each other. The ship's guns roaredagain, a string of explosions cut across one man. Before they couldchange direction and find the other man he had reached the buildings. 

He returned quickly, darting into the open to throw the gun to them. Before he could dive back to safety the shells caught him. 

 * * * * *

Jason grabbed up the gun as it skidded almost to his feet. They heardthe sound of wide-open truck turbines screaming towards them as heblasted the lock. The mechanism sighed and the hatch sagged open. Theywere all through the air lock before the first truck appeared. Naxastayed behind with the gun, to hold the lock until they could take thecontrol room. 

Everyone climbed faster than Jason, once he had pointed them the way, sothe battle was over when he got there. The single city Pyrran lookedlike a pin-cushion. One of the techs had found the gun controls and wasshooting wildly, the sheer quantity of his fire driving the trucks back. 

"Someone get on the radio and tell the talkers to call the attack off, "Jason said. He found the communications screen and snapped it on. Kerk'swide-eyed face stared at him from the screen. 

"_You!_" Kerk said, breathing the word like a curse. 

"Yes, it's me, " Jason answered. He talked without looking up, while hishands were busy at the control board. "Listen to me, Kerk--and don'tdoubt anything I say. I may not know how to fly one of these ships, butI do know how to blow them up. Do you hear that sound?" He flipped overa switch and the faraway whine of a pump droned faintly. "That's themain fuel pump. If I let it run--which I won't right now--it couldquickly fill the drive chamber with raw fuel. Pour in so much that itwould run out of the stern tubes. Then what do you think would happen toyour one and only spacer if I pressed the firing button? I'm not askingyou what would happen to me, since you don't care--but you need thisship the way you need life itself. "

There was only silence in the cabin now, the men who had won the shipturned to face him. Kerk's voice grated loudly through the room. 

"What do you want, Jason--what are you trying to do? Why did you leadthose animals in here . . . " His voice cracked and broke as anger chokedhim and spilled over. 

"Watch your tongue, Kerk, " Jason said with soft menace. "These _men_ youare talking about are the only ones on Pyrrus who have a spaceship. Ifyou want them to share it with you, you had better learn to talk nicely. Now come over here at once--and bring Brucco and Meta. " Jason looked atthe older man's florid and swollen face and felt a measure of sympathy. "Don't look so unhappy, it's not the end of the world. In fact, it mightbe the beginning of one. And another thing, leave this channel open whenyou go. Have it hooked into every screen in the city so everyone can seewhat happens here. Make sure it's taped too, for replay. "

Kerk started to say something, but changed his mind before he did. Heleft the screen, but the set stayed alive. Carrying the scene in thecontrol room to the entire city. 

XXVII. 

The fight was over. It had ended so quickly the fact hadn't really sunkin yet. Rhes rubbed his hand against the gleaming metal of the controlconsole, letting the reality of touch convince him. The other men milledabout, looking out through the viewscreens or soaking in the mechanicalstrangeness of the room. 

Jason was physically exhausted, but he couldn't let it show. He openedthe pilot's medbox and dug through it until he found the stimulants. Three of the little gold pills washed the fatigue from his body, and hecould think clearly again. 

"Listen to me, " he shouted. "The fight's not over yet. They'll tryanything to take this ship back and we have to be ready. I want one ofthe techs to go over these boards until he finds the lock controls. Makesure all the air locks and ports are sealed. Send men to check them ifnecessary. Turn on all the screens to scan in every direction, so no onecan get near the ship. We'll need a guard in the engine room, my controlcould be cut if they broke in there. And there had better be aroom-by-room search of the ship, in case someone else is locked in withus. "

The men had something to do now and felt relieved. Rhes split them upinto groups and set them to work. Jason stayed at the controls, his handnext to the pump switch. The battle wasn't over yet. 

"There's a truck coming, " Rhes called, "going slow. "

"Should I blast it?" the man at the gun controls asked. 

"Hold your fire, " Jason said, "until we can see who it is. If it's thepeople I sent for, let them through. "

As the truck came on slowly, the gunner tracked it with his sights. There was a driver and three passengers. Jason waited until he waspositive who they were. 

"Those are the ones, " he said. "Stop them at the lock, Rhes, make themcome in one at a time. Take their guns as they enter, then strip them of_all_ their equipment. There is no way of telling what could be aconcealed weapon. Be specially careful of Brucco--he's the thin one witha face like an ax edge--make sure you strip him clean. He's a specialistin weapons and survival. And bring the driver too, we don't want himreporting back about the broken air lock or the state of our guns. "

Waiting was hard. His hand stayed next to the pump switch, even thoughhe knew he could never use it. Just as long as the others thought hewould. 

 * * * * *

There were stampings and muttered curses in the corridor; the prisonerswere pushed in. Jason had one look at their deadly expressions andclenched fists before he called to Rhes. 

"Keep them against the wall and watch them. Bowmen keep your weaponsup. " He looked at the people who had once been his friends and who nowswam in hatred for him. Meta, Kerk, Brucco. The driver was Skop, the manKerk had once appointed to guard him. He looked ready to explode nowthat the roles had been reversed. 

"Pay close attention, " Jason said, "because your lives depend upon it. Keep your backs to the wall and don't attempt to come any closer to methan you are now. If you do, you will be shot instantly. If we werealone, any one of you could undoubtedly reach me before I threw thisswitch. But we're not. You have Pyrran reflexes and muscles--but so dothe bowmen. Don't gamble. Because it won't be a gamble. It will besuicide. I'm telling you this for your own protection. So we can talkpeacefully without one of you losing his temper and suddenly gettingshot. _There is no way out of this. _ You are going to be forced tolisten to everything I say. You can't escape or kill me. The war isover. "

"And we lost--and all because of you . . . You _traitor_!" Meta snarled. 

"Wrong on both counts, " Jason said blandly. "I'm not a traitor because Iowe my allegiance to all men on this planet, both inside the perimeterand out. I never pretended differently. As to losing--why you haven'tlost anything. In fact you've won. Won your war against this planet, ifyou will only hear me out. " He turned to Rhes, who was frowning in angrypuzzlement. "Of course your people have won also, Rhes. No more war withthe city, you'll get medicine, off-planet contact--everything you want. "

"Pardon me for being cynical, " Rhes said, "but you're promising the bestof all possible worlds for everyone. That will be a little hard todeliver when our interests are opposed so. "

"You strike through to the heart of the matter, " Jason said. "Thank you. This mess will be settled by seeing that everyone's interests are notopposed. Peace between the city and farms, with an end to the uselesswar you have been fighting. Peace between mankind and the Pyrran lifeforms--because that particular war is at the bottom of all yourtroubles. "

"The man's mad, " Kerk said. 

"Perhaps. You'll judge that after you hear me out. I'm going to tell youthe history of this planet, because that is where both the trouble andthe solution lie. 

"When the settlers landed on Pyrrus three hundred years ago they missedthe one important thing about this planet, the factor that makes itdifferent from any other planet in the galaxy. They can't be blamed forthe oversight, they had enough other things to worry about. The gravitywas about the only thing familiar to them, the rest of the environmentwas a shocking change from the climate-controlled industrial world theyhad left. Storms, vulcanism, floods, earthquakes--it was enough to drivethem insane, and I'm sure many of them did go mad. The animal and insectlife was a constant annoyance, nothing at all like the few harmless andprotected species they had known. I'm sure they never realized that thePyrran life was telepathic as well--"

"That again!" Brucco snapped. "True or not, it is of no importance. Iwas tempted to agree with your theory of psionic-controlled attack onus, but the deadly fiasco you staged proved that theory wrong. "

"I agree, " Jason answered. "I was completely mistaken when I thoughtsome outside agency directed the attack on the city with psioniccontrol. It seemed a logical theory at the time and the evidence pointedthat way. The expedition to the island _was_ a deadly fiasco--only don'tforget that attack was the direct opposite of what I wanted to havedone. If I had gone into the cave myself none of the deaths would havebeen necessary. I think it would have been discovered that the plantcreatures were nothing more than an advanced life form with unusual psiability. They simply resonated strongly to the psionic attack on thecity. I had the idea backwards thinking they instigated the battle. We'll never know the truth, though, because they are destroyed. Buttheir deaths did prove one thing. It allows us to find the realculprits, the creatures who are leading, directing and inspiring the waragainst the city. "

"_Who?_" Kerk breathed the question, rather than spoke it. 

"Why _you_ of course, " Jason told him. "Not you alone, but all of yourpeople in the city. Perhaps you don't like this war. However you areresponsible for it, and keep it going. "

Jason had to force back a smile as he looked at their dumfoundedexpressions. He had to prove his point quickly, before even his alliesbegan to think him insane. 

 * * * * *

"Here is how it works. I said Pyrran life was telepathic--and I meantall life. Every single insect, plant and animal. At one time in thisplanet's violent history these psionic mutations proved to be survivaltypes. They existed when other species died, and in the end I'm surethey co-operated in wiping out the last survivors of the non-psistrains. Co-operation is the key word here. Because while they stillcompeted against each other under normal conditions, they workedtogether against anything that threatened them as a whole. When anatural upheaval or a tidal wave threatened them, they fled from it inharmony. 

[Illustration]

"You can see a milder form of this same behavior on any planet that issubject to forest fires. But here, mutual survival was carried to anextreme because of the violent conditions. Perhaps some of the lifeforms even developed precognition like the human quakemen. With thisadvance warning the larger beasts fled. The smaller ones developedseeds, or burrs or eggs, that could be carried to safety by the wind orin the animals' fur, thus insuring racial survival. I know this is true, because I watched it myself when we were escaping a quake. "

"Admitted--all your points admitted, " Brucco shouted. "But what does ithave to do with _us_? So all the animals run away together, what doesthat have to do with the war?"

"They do more than run away together, " Jason told him. "They worktogether against any natural disaster that threatens them all. Some dayI'm sure, ecologists will go into raptures over the complex adjustmentsthat occur here in the advent of blizzards, floods, fires and otherdisasters. There is only one reaction we really care about now, though. That's the one directed towards the city people. Don't you realizeyet--they treat you all as another natural disaster!

"We'll never know exactly how it came about, though there is a clue inthat diary I found, dating from the first days on this planet. It saidthat a forest fire seemed to have driven new species towards thesettlers. Those weren't new beasts at all--just old ones with newattitudes. Can't you just imagine how those protected, over-civilizedsettlers acted when faced with a forest fire? They panicked of course. If the settlers were in the path of the fire, the animals must haverushed right through their camp. Their reaction would undoubtedly havebeen to shoot the fleeing creatures down. 

"When they did that they classified themselves as a natural disaster. Disasters take any form. Bipeds with guns could easily be included inthe category. The Pyrran animals attacked, were shot, and the war began. The survivors kept attacking and informed all the life forms what thefight was about. The radioactivity of this planet must cause plenty ofmutations--and the favorable, survival mutation was now one that wasdeadly to man. I'll hazard a guess that the psi function even instigatesmutations, some of the deadlier types are just too one-sided to havecome about naturally in a brief three hundred years. 

"The settlers, of course, fought back, and kept their status as anatural disaster intact. Through the centuries they improved theirkilling methods, not that it did the slightest good, as you know. Youcity people, their descendants, are heirs to this heritage of hatred. You fight and are slowly being defeated. How can you possibly winagainst the biologic reserves of a planet that can recreate itself eachtime to meet any new attack?"

 * * * * *

Silence followed Jason's words. Kerk and Meta stood white-faced as theimpact of the disclosure sunk in. Brucco mumbled and checked points offon his fingers, searching for weak spots in the chain of reason. Thefourth city Pyrran, Skop, ignored all these foolish words that hecouldn't understand--or want to understand--and would have killed Jasonin an instant if there had been the slightest chance of success. 

It was Rhes who broke the silence. His quick mind had taken in thefactors and sorted them out. "There's one thing wrong, " he said. "Whatabout us? We live on the surface of Pyrrus without perimeters or guns. Why aren't we attacked as well? We're human, descended from the samepeople as the junkmen. "

"You're not attacked, " Jason told him, "because you don't identifyyourself as a natural disaster. Animals can live on the slopes of adormant volcano, fighting and dying in natural competition. But they'llflee together when the volcano erupts. That eruption is what makes themountain a natural disaster. In the case of human beings, it is theirthoughts that identify them as life form or disaster. Mountain orvolcano. In the city everyone radiates suspicion and death. They enjoykilling, thinking about killing, and planning for killing. This isnatural selection, too, you realize. These are the survival traits thatwork best in the city. Outside the city men think differently. If theyare threatened individually, they fight, as will any other creature. Under more general survival threats they co-operate completely with therules for universal survival that the city people break. "

"How did it begin--this separation, I mean, between the two groups?"Rhes asked. 

"We'll probably never know, " Jason said. "I think your people must haveoriginally been farmers, or psionic sensitives who were not with theothers during some natural disaster. They would, of course, actcorrectly by Pyrran standards, and survive. This would cause adifference of opinion with the city people who saw killing as theanswer. It's obvious, whatever the reason, that two separate communitieswere established early, and soon separated except for the limited amountof barter that benefited both. "

"I still can't believe it, " Kerk mumbled. "It makes a terrible kind oftruth, every step of the way, but I still find it hard to accept. There_must_ be another explanation. "

Jason shook his head slowly. "None. This is the only one that works. We've eliminated the other ones, remember? I can't blame you for findingit hard to believe, since it is in direct opposition to everythingyou've understood to be true in the past. It's like altering a naturallaw. As if I gave you proof that gravity didn't really exist, that itwas a force altogether different from the immutable one we know, one youcould get around when you understood how. You'd want more proof thanwords. Probably want to see someone walking on air. "

"Which isn't such a bad idea at that, " he added, turning to Naxa. "Doyou hear any animals around the ship now? Not the ones you're used to, but the mutated, violent kind that live only to attack the city. "

"Place's crawling with 'em, " Naxa said, "just lookin' for somethin't'kill. "

"Could you capture one?" Jason asked. "Without getting yourself killed, I mean. "

Naxa snorted contempt as he turned to leave. "Beast's not born yet, that'll hurt me. "

They stood quietly, each one wrapped tightly around by his own thoughts, while they waited for Naxa to return. Jason had nothing more to say. Hewould do one more thing to try and convince them of the facts, afterthat it would be up to each of them to reach a conclusion. 

 * * * * *

The talker returned quickly with a stingwing, tied by one leg to alength of leather. It flapped and shrieked as he carried it in. 

"In the middle of the room, away from everybody, " Jason told him. "Canyou get that beast to sit on something and not flap around?"

"My hand good enough?" he asked, flipping the creature up so it clung tothe back of his gauntlet. "That's how I caught it. "

"Does anyone doubt that this is a real stingwing?" Jason asked. "I wantto make sure you all believe there is no trickery here. "

"The thing is real, " Brucco said. "I can smell the poison in thewing-claws from here. " He pointed to the dark marks on the leather wherethe liquid had dripped. "If that eats through the gloves, he's a deadman. "

"Then we agree it's real, " Jason said. "Real and deadly, and the onlytest of the theory will be if you people from the city can approach itlike Naxa here. "

They drew back automatically when he said it. Because they knew thatstingwing was synonymous with death. Past, present and future. You don'tchange a natural law. Meta spoke for all of them. 

"We . . . Can't. This man lives in the jungle, like an animal himself. Somehow he's learned to get near them. But you can't expect us to. "

Jason spoke quickly, before the talker could react to the insult. "Ofcourse I expect you to. That's the whole idea. If you don't hate thebeast and expect it to attack you--why it won't. Think of it as acreature from a different planet, something harmless. "

"I can't, " she said. "It's a _stingwing_!"

As they talked Brucco stepped forward, his eyes fixed steadily on thecreature perched on the glove. Jason signaled the bowmen to hold theirfire. Brucco stopped at a safe distance and kept looking steadily at thestingwing. It rustled its leathery wings uneasily and hissed. A drop ofpoison formed at the tip of each great poison claw on its wings. Thecontrol room was filled with a deadly silence. 

Slowly he raised his hand. Carefully putting it out, over the animal. The hand dropped a little, rubbed the stingwing's head once, then fellback to his side. The animal did nothing except stir slightly under thetouch. 

There was a concerted sigh, as those who had been unknowingly holdingtheir breath breathed again. 

"How did you do it?" Meta asked in a hushed voice. 

"Hm-m-m, what?" Brucco said, apparently snapping out of a daze. "Oh, touching the thing. Simple, really. I just pretended it was one of thetraining aids I use, a realistic and harmless duplicate. I kept my mindon that single thought and it worked. " He looked down at his hand, thenback to the stingwing. His voice quieter now, as if he spoke from adistance. "It's not a training aid you know. It's real. Deadly. Theoff-worlder is right. He's right about everything he said. "

With Brucco's success as an example, Kerk came close to the animal. Hewalked stiffly, as if on the way to his execution, and runnels of sweatpoured down his rigid face. But he believed and kept his thoughtsdirected away from the stingwing and he could touch it unharmed. 

Meta tried but couldn't fight down the horror it raised when she cameclose. "I am trying, " she said, "and I do believe you now--but I justcan't do it. "

Skop screamed when they all looked at him, shouted it was all a trick, and had to be clubbed unconscious when he attacked the bowmen. 

Understanding had come to Pyrrus. 

XXVIII. 

"What do we do now?" Meta asked. Her voice was troubled, questioning. She voiced the thoughts of all the Pyrrans in the room, and thethousands who watched in their screens. 

"What will we do?" They turned to Jason, waiting for an answer. For themoment their differences were forgotten. The people from the city werestaring expectantly at him, as were the crossbowmen with half-loweredweapons. This stranger had confused and changed the old world they hadknown, and presented them with a newer and stranger one, with alienproblems. 

"Hold on, " he said, raising his hand. "I'm no doctor of social ills. I'mnot going to try and cure this planet full of muscle-boundsharpshooters. I've just squeezed through up to now, and by the law ofaverages I should be ten times dead. "

"Even if all you say is true, Jason, " Meta said, "you are still the onlyperson who can help us. What will the future be like?"

Suddenly weary, Jason slumped into the pilot's chair. He glanced aroundat the circle of people. They seemed sincere. None of them even appearedto have noticed that he no longer had his hand on the pump switch. Forthe moment at least, the war between city and farm was forgotten. 

"I'll give you my conclusions, " Jason said, twisting in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position for his aching bones. "I've beendoing a lot of thinking the last day or two, searching for the answer. The very first thing I realized, was that the perfect and logicalsolution wouldn't do at all. I'm afraid the old ideal of the lion lyingdown with the lamb doesn't work out in practice. About all it does ismake a fast lunch for the lion. Ideally, now that you all know the realcauses of your trouble, you should tear down the perimeter and have thecity and forest people mingle in brotherly love. Makes just as pretty apicture as the one of lion and lamb. And would undoubtedly have the sameresult. Someone would remember how really filthy the grubbers are, orhow stupid junkmen can be, and there would be a fresh corpse cooling. The fight would spread and the victors would be eaten by the wildlifethat swarmed over the undefended perimeter. No, the answer isn't thateasy. "

As the Pyrrans listened to him they realized where they were, andglanced around uneasily. The guards raised their crossbows again, andthe prisoners stepped back to the wall and looked surly. 

"See what I mean?" Jason asked. "Didn't take long did it?" They alllooked a little sheepish at their unthinking reactions. 

"If we're going to find a decent plan for the future, we'll have totake inertia into consideration. Mental inertia for one. Just becauseyou know a thing is true in theory, doesn't make it true in fact. Thebarbaric religions of primitive worlds hold not a germ of scientificfact, though they claim to explain all. Yet if one of these savages hasall the logical ground for his beliefs taken away--he doesn't stopbelieving. He then calls his mistaken beliefs 'faith' because he knowsthey are right. And he knows they are right because he has faith. Thisis an unbreakable circle of false logic that can't be touched. Inreality, it is plain mental inertia. A case of thinking 'what alwayswas' will also 'always be. ' And not wanting to blast the thinkingpatterns out of the old rut. 

"Mental inertia alone is not going to cause trouble--there is culturalinertia, too. Some of you in this room believe my conclusions and wouldlike to change. But will all your people change? The unthinking ones, the habit-ridden, reflex-formed people who _know_ what is now, willalways be. They'll act like a drag on whatever plans you make, whateverattempts you undertake to progress with the new knowledge you have. "

"Then it's useless--there's no hope for our world?" Rhes asked. 

 * * * * *

"I didn't say that, " Jason answered. "I merely mean that your troubleswon't end by throwing some kind of mental switch. I see three coursesopen for the future, and the chances are that all three will be going onat the same time. 

"First--and best--will be the rejoining of city and farm Pyrrans intothe single human group they came from. Each is incomplete now, and hassomething the other one needs. In the city here you have science andcontact with the rest of the galaxy. You also have a deadly war. Outthere in the jungle, your first cousins live at peace with the world, but lack medicine and the other benefits of scientific knowledge, aswell as any kind of cultural contact with the rest of mankind. You'llboth have to join together and benefit from the exchange. At the sametime you'll have to forget the superstitious hatred you have of eachother. This will only be done outside of the city, away from the war. Every one of you who is capable should go out voluntarily, bringing somefraction of the knowledge that needs sharing. You won't be harmed if yougo in good faith. And you will learn how to live _with_ this planet, rather than against it. Eventually you'll have civilized communitiesthat won't be either 'grubber' or 'junkman. ' They'll be Pyrran. "

"But what about our city here?" Kerk asked. 

"It'll stay right here--and probably won't change in the slightest. Inthe beginning you'll need your perimeter and defenses to stay alive, while the people are leaving. And after that it will keep going becausethere are going to be any number of people here who you won't convince. They'll stay and fight and eventually die. Perhaps you will be able todo a better job in educating their children. What the eventual end ofthe city will be, I have no idea. "

They were silent as they thought about the future. On the floor Skopgroaned but did not move. "Those are two ways, " Meta said. "What is thethird?"

"The third possibility is my own pet scheme, " Jason smiled. "And I hopeI can find enough people to go along with me. I'm going to take my moneyand spend it all on outfitting the best and most modern spacer, withevery weapon and piece of scientific equipment I can get my hands on. Then I'm going to ask for Pyrran volunteers to go with me. "

"What in the world for?" Meta frowned. 

"Not for charity, I expect to make my investment back, and more. Yousee, after these past few months, I can't possibly return to my oldoccupation. Not only do I have enough money now to make it a waste oftime, but I think it would be an unending bore. One thing aboutPyrrus--if you live--is that it spoils you for the quieter places. SoI'd like to take this ship that I mentioned and go into the business ofopening up new worlds. There are thousands of planets where men wouldlike to settle, only getting a foothold on them is too rough or ruggedfor the usual settlers. Can you imagine a planet a Pyrran couldn't lickafter the training you've had here? And enjoy doing it?

"There would be more than pleasure involved, though. In the city yourlives have been geared for continual deadly warfare. Now you're facedwith the choice of a fairly peaceful future, or staying in the city tofight an unnecessary and foolish war. I offer the third alternative ofthe occupation you know best, that would let you accomplish somethingconstructive at the same time. 

"Those are the choices. Whatever you decide is up to each of youpersonally. "

 * * * * *

Before anyone could answer, livid pain circled Jason's throat. Skop hadregained consciousness and surged up from the floor. He pulled Jasonfrom the chair with a single motion, holding him by the neck, throttlinghim. 

"Kerk! Meta!" Skop shouted hoarsely. "Grab guns! Open the locks--ourpeople'll be here, kill the grubbers and their lies!"

Jason tore at the fingers that were choking the life out of him, but itwas like pulling at bent steel bars. He couldn't talk and the bloodhammered in his ears. 

Meta hurtled forward like an uncoiled spring and the crossbows twanged. One bolt caught her in the leg, the other transfixed her upper arm. Butshe had been shot as she jumped and her inertia carried her across theroom, to her fellow Pyrran and the dying off-worlder. 

She raised her good arm and chopped down with the edge of her hand. 

It caught Skop a hard blow on the biceps and his arm jumpedspasmodically, his hand leaping from Jason's throat. 

"What are you doing?" he shouted in strange terror to the wounded girlwho fell against him. He pushed her away, still clutching Jason with hisother hand. She didn't answer. Instead she chopped again, hard and true, the edge of her hand catching Skop across the windpipe, crushing it. Hedropped Jason and fell to the floor, retching and gasping. 

Jason watched the end through a haze, barely conscious. 

Skop struggled to his feet, turned pain-filled eyes to his friends. 

"You're wrong, " Kerk said. "Don't do it. "

The sound the wounded man made was more animal than human. When he divedtowards the guns on the far side of the room the crossbows twanged likeharps of death. 

When Brucco went over to help Meta no one interfered. Jason gasped airback into his lungs, breathing in life. The watching glass eye of theviewer carried the scene to everyone in the city. 

"Thanks, Meta . . . For understanding . . . As well as helping. " Jason hadto force the words out. 

"Skop was wrong and you were right, Jason, " she said. Her voice brokefor a second as Brucco snapped off the feathered end of the steel boltwith his fingers, and pulled the shaft out of her arm. "I can't stay inthe city, only people who feel as Skop did will be able to do that. AndI'm afraid I can't go into the forest--you saw what luck I had with thestingwing. If it's all right I'd like to come with you. I'd like to verymuch. "

It hurt when he talked so Jason could only smile, but she knew what hemeant. 

Kerk looked down in unhappiness at the body of the dead man. "He waswrong--but I know how he felt. I can't leave the city, not yet. Someonewill have to keep things in hand while the changes are taking place. Your ship is a good idea, Jason, you'll have no shortage of volunteers. Though I doubt if you'll get Brucco to go with you. "

"Of course not, " Brucco snapped, not looking up from the compressionbandage he was tying. "There's enough to do right here on Pyrrus. Theanimal life, quite a study to be made, probably have every ecologist inthe galaxy visiting here. "

Kerk walked slowly to the screen overlooking the city. No one attemptedto stop him. He looked out at the buildings, the smoke still curling upfrom the perimeter, and the limitless sweep of green jungle beyond. 

"You've changed it all, Jason, " he said. "We can't see it now, butPyrrus will never be the way it was before you came. For better orworse. "

"Better, " Jason croaked, and rubbed his aching throat. "Now get togetherand end this war so people will really believe it. "

Rhes turned and after an instant's hesitation, extended his hand toKerk. The gray-haired Pyrran felt the same repugnance himself abouttouching a grubber. 

They shook hands then because they were both strong men. 

THE END

Transcriber's Note:

 This etext was produced from _Astounding Science Fiction_ January, February and March 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. Subscript text appears within {braces}.