Deathworld

  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."

  "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.