deathworld-第10章

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