click of cooling metal from the ship: no one emerged, nor did any of
the Pyrrans seem interested enough in the newcomer to approach it.
That must mean that no one had any business with it, and, of course,
no curiosity either, for this along with imagination was in very short
supply on the war-torn planet. Since no one else was making any moves,
Jason went forward to investigate for himself.

A stingwing that had escaped the perimeter guards dived towards him
and he blasted it automatically with his gun. The corpse thudded to
the ground and the soil churned around it as the insectile scavengers
fought for the flesh; only bare bones remained by the time he had
taken two paces.

A muffled whine of motors told him that the lower hatch was opening,
and Jason watched as a hairline crack appeared in the thick metal,
then widened as the heavy door ground outwards. Through the opening he
had a glimpse of a figure muffled in a heavy-duty spacesuit. That must
be Meta's work, she would have contacted the ship by radio while it
was on its way down and explained the standing orders that no
off-worlders were to be allowed out of their ships unless wearing the
heaviest armor. Since the armed truce between the human inhabitants
there had been a lessening of the relentless warfare the Pyrran life
forms waged against the city, but only to a slight degree. Deadly
beasts still abounded, and the air was thick with toxic diseases. A
stranger, unprotected, would be ill in five minutes, dead within
ten--or much sooner if a horndevil or other beast got to him in the
interval.

Jason felt a justified pride that he could walk this planet under his
own power. The natives, adapted to the deadliness and heavy gravity
since birth, were still his superiors, but he was the only off-worlder
who could stand the dangers of Pyrrus. His gun whined out of his power
holster into his waiting hand as he searched for some target to use
his talents on. An armored piece of nastiness, with a lot of legs, was
crawling into hiding under a rock and he blasted it neatly with a
single shot. The gun snapped back into the holster and he turned to
the open door of the spacer, his morale greatly improved.

* * * * *

"Welcome to Pyrrus," he told the ungainly figure that clumped out of
the ship. There was a hefty maser-projector clutched in the armored
gloves and whoever was inside the suit, the face was invisible behind
the thick and tin