rowing disgust. "The first thing we want to get you is a
gun," he said. "It gives me a sick feeling to see someone without one."

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

"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 with
deadly weapons. "Put your arm in this while I make the adjustments."

* * * * *

It was a boxlike machine with a pistol grip on the side. Jason clutched
the grip and rested his elbow on a metal loop. Brucco fixed pointers
that touched his arm, then copied the results from the meters. Reading
the figures from his list he selected various components 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," Brucco 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 gun butt. 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 becomes
completely 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 ena