ool and could face the world
alone. Which was a logical and cold-hearted way of looking at things. In
fact, logical and cold-hearted 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 a 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 complex 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't
conceal 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 as soon as they can crawl. It is real in
substance, though completely deactivated."

* * * * *

Training machine was the wrong word, Jason realized as they entered
through the thick door. This was a chunk of the outside world duplicated
in an immense chamber. It took very little suspension of reality for him
to forget the painted ceiling and artificial sun high above and imagine
himself outdoors at last. The scene _seemed_ peaceful enough. Though
clouds 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 soft
grass that covered the ground. Immediately a voice barked from hidden
speakers.

"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 grass
was the same. The soft green lawn was a carpet of death. As