V.

Once the ship was in orbit the captain sent for Jason and Kerk. Kerk

took the floor and was completely frank about the previous night's

activities. The only fact of importance he left out was Jason's

background as a professional gambler. He drew a beautiful picture of

two lucky strangers whom the evil forces of Cassylia wanted to deprive

of their gambling profits. All this fitted perfectly the captain's

preconceptions of Cassylia. In the end he congratulated his officer on

the correctness of his actions and began the preparation of a long

report to his government. He gave the two men his best wishes as well as

the liberty of the ship.

It was a short trip. Jason barely had time to catch up on his sleep

before they grounded on Darkhan. Being without luggage they were the

first ones through customs. They left the shed just in time to see

another ship landing in a distant pit. Kerk stopped to watch it and

Jason followed his gaze. It was a gray, scarred ship. With the stubby

lines of a freighter--but sporting as many guns as a cruiser.

"Yours, of course," Jason said.

Kerk nodded and started towards the ship. One of the locks opened as

they came up but no one appeared. Instead a remote-release folding

ladder rattled down to the ground. Kerk swarmed up it and Jason followed

glumly. Somehow, he felt, this was overdoing the no-frills-and-nonsense

attitude.

Jason was catching on to Pyrran ways though. The reception aboard ship

for the ambassador was just what he expected. Nothing. Kerk closed the

lock himself and they found couches as the take-off horn sounded. The

main jets roared and acceleration smashed down on Jason.

It didn't stop. Instead it grew stronger, squeezing the air out of his

lungs and the sight from his eyes. He screamed but couldn't hear his own

voice through the roaring in his ears. Mercifully he blacked out.

When consciousness returned the ship was at zero-G. Jason kept his eyes

closed and let the pain seep out of his body. Kerk spoke suddenly, he

was standing next to the couch.

"My fault, Meta, I should have told you we had a 1-G passenger aboard.

You might have eased up a bit on your usual bone-breaking take-off."

"It doesn't seem to have harmed him much--but what's he doing here?"

Jason felt mild surprise that the second voice was a girl's. But he

wasn't interested enough to go to the trouble of opening his sore eyes.

"Going to Pyrrus. I tried to talk him out of it, of course, but I

couldn't change his mind. It's a shame, too, I would like to have done

more for him. He's the one who got the money for us."

"Oh, that's awful," the girl said. Jason wondered why it was _awful_. It

didn't make sense to his groggy mind. "It would have been much better if

he stayed on Darkhan," the girl continued. "He's very nice-looking. I

think it's a shame he has to die."

That was too much for Jason. He pried one eye open, then the other. The

voice belonged to a girl about twenty-one who was standing next to the

bed, gazing down at Jason. She was beautiful.

Jason's eyes opened wider as he realized she was _very_ beautiful--with

the kind of beauty never found in the civilized galaxy. The women he had

known all ran to pale skin, hollow shoulders, gray faces covered with

tints and dyes. They were the product of centuries of breeding

weaknesses back into the race, as the advance of medicine kept alive

more and more non-survival types.

This girl was the direct opposite in every way. She was the product of

survival on Pyrrus. The heavy gravity that produced bulging muscles in

men, brought out firm strength in straplike female muscles. She had the

figure of a goddess, tanned skin and perfectly formed face. Her hair,

which was cut short, circled her head like a golden crown. The only

unfeminine thing about her was the gun she wore in a bulky forearm

holster. When she saw Jason's eyes open she smiled at him. Her teeth

were as even and as white as he had expected.

"I'm Meta, pilot of this ship. And you must be--"

"Jason dinAlt. That was a lousy take-off, Meta."

"I'm really very sorry," she laughed. "But being born on a two-G planet

does make one a little immune to acceleration. I save fuel too, with the

synergy curve--"

Kerk gave a noncommittal grunt. "Come along, Meta, we'll take a look at

the cargo. Some of the new stuff will plug the gaps in the perimeter."

"Oh yes," she said, almost clapping her hands with happiness. "I read

the specs, they're simply wonderful."

_Like a schoolgirl with a new dress. Or a box of candy. That's a great

attitude to have towards bombs and flame-throwers._ Jason smiled wryly

at the thought as he groaned off the couch. The two Pyrrans had gone and

he pulled himself painfully through the door after them.

* * * * *

It took him a long time to find his way to the hold. The ship was big

and apparently empty of crew. Jason finally found a man sleeping in one

of the brightly lit cabins. He recognized him as the driver who had

turned the car over to them on Cassylia. The man, who had been sleeping

soundly a moment before, opened his eyes as soon as Jason drifted into

the room. He was wide awake.

"How do I get to the cargo hold?" Jason asked.

The other told him, closed his eyes and went instantly back to sleep

before Jason could even say thanks.

In the hold, Kerk and Meta had opened some of the crates and were

chortling with joy over their lethal contents. Meta, a pressure canister

in her arms, turned to Jason as he came through the door.

"Just look at this," she said. "This powder in here--why you can eat it

like dirt, with less harm. Yet it is instantly deadly to all forms of

vegetable life ..." She stopped suddenly as she realized Jason didn't

share her extreme pleasure. "I'm sorry. I forgot for a moment there that

you weren't a Pyrran. So you don't really understand, do you?"

Before he could answer, the PA speaker called her name.

"Jump time," she said. "Come with me to the bridge while I do the

equations. We can talk there. I know so little about any place except

Pyrrus that I have a million questions to ask."

Jason followed her to the bridge where she relieved the duty officer and

began taking readings for the jump-setting. She looked out of place

among the machines, a sturdy but supple figure in a simple, one-piece

shipsuit. Yet there was no denying the efficiency with which she went

about her job.

"Meta, aren't you a little young to be the pilot of an interstellar

ship?"

"Am I?" She thought for a second. "I really don't know how old pilots

are supposed to be. I have been piloting for about three years now and

I'm almost twenty. Is that younger than usual?"

Jason opened his mouth--then laughed. "I suppose that all depends on

what planet you're from. Some places you would have trouble getting

licensed. But I'll bet things are different on Pyrrus. By their

standards you must rank as an old lady."

"Now you're making a joke," Meta said serenely as she fed a figure into

the calculator. "I've seen old ladies on some planets. They are wrinkled

and have gray hair. I don't know how old they are, I asked one but she

wouldn't tell me her age. But I'm sure they must be older than anyone on

Pyrrus, no one looks like that there."

"I don't mean old that way," Jason groped for the right word. "Not

old--but grown-up, mature. An adult."

"Everyone is grown-up," she answered. "At least soon after they leave

the wards. And they do that when they're six. My first child is

grown-up, and the second one would be, too, only he's dead. So I

_surely_ must be."

That seemed to settle the question for her, though Jason's thoughts

jumped with the alien concepts and background, inherent behind her

words.

* * * * *

Meta punched in the last setting, and the course tape began to chunk out

of the case. She turned her attention back to Jason. "I'm glad you're

aboard this trip, though I am sorry you are going to Pyrrus. But we'll

have lots of time to talk. There are so many things I want to find out

about other planets, and why people go around acting the way they do.

Not at all like home where you _know_ why people are doing things all

the time." She frowned over the tape for a moment, then turned her

attention back to Jason. "What is your home planet like?"

One after another the usual lies he told people came to his lips, and

were pushed away. Why bother lying to a girl who really didn't care if

you were serf or noble? To her there were only two kinds of people in

the galaxy--Pyrrans, and the rest. For the first time since he had fled

from Porgorstorsaand he found himself telling someone the truth of his

origin.

"My home planet? Just about the stuffiest, dullest, dead-end in the

universe. You can't believe the destructive decay of a planet that is

mainly agrarian, caste-conscious and completely satisfied with its own

boring existence. Not only is there no change--but no one _wants_

change. My father was a farmer, so I should have been a farmer too--if I

had listened to the advice of my betters. It was unthinkable, as well as

forbidden for me to do anything else. And everything I wanted to do was

against the law. I was fifteen before I learned to read--out of a book

stolen from a noble school. After that there was no turning back. By the

time I stowed aboard an off-world freighter at nineteen I must have

broken every law on the planet. Happily. Leaving home for me was just

like getting out of prison."

Meta shook her head at the thought. "I just can't imagine a place like

that. But I'm sure I wouldn't like it there."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," Jason laughed. "So once I was in space, with no

law-abiding talents or skills, I just wandered into one thing and

another. In this age of technology I was completely out of place. Oh, I

suppose I could have done well in some army, but I'm not so good at

taking orders. Whenever I gambled I did well, so little by little I just

drifted into it. People are the same everywhere, so I manage to make out

well wherever I end up."

"I know what you mean about people being alike--but they are so

_different_," she said. "I'm not being clear at all, am I? What I mean

is that at home I know what people will do and why they do it at the

same time. People on all the other planets do act alike, as you said,

yet I have very much trouble understanding why. For instance, I like to

try the local food when we set down on a planet, and if there is time I

always do. There are bars and restaurants near every spaceport so I go

there. And I always have trouble with the men. They want to buy me

drinks, hold my hand--"

"Well, a single girl in those port joints has to expect a certain amount

of interest from the men."

"Oh, I know that," she said. "What I don't understand is why they don't

listen when I tell them I am not interested and to go away. They just

laugh and pull up a chair, usually. But I have found that one thing

works wherever I am. I tell them if they don't stop bothering me I'll

break their arm."

"Does that stop them?" Jason asked.

"No, of course not. But after I break their arm they go away. And the

others don't bother me either. It's a lot of fuss to go through and the

food is usually awful."

Jason didn't laugh. Particularly when he realized that this girl _could_

break the arm of any spaceport thug in the galaxy. She was a strange

mixture of naivete and strength, unlike anyone he had ever met before.

Once again he realized that he _had_ to visit the planet that produced

people like her and Kerk.

"Tell me about Pyrrus," he asked. "Why is it that you and Kerk assume

automatically that I will drop dead as soon as I land? What is the

planet like?"

All the warmth was gone from her face now. "I can't tell you. You will

have to see for yourself. I know that much after visiting some of the

other worlds. Pyrrus is like nothing you galaxy people have ever

experienced. You won't really believe it until it is too late. Will you

promise me something?"

"No," he answered. "At least not until after I hear what it is and

decide."

"Don't leave the ship when we land. You _should_ be safe enough aboard,

and I'll be flying a cargo out within a few weeks."

"I'll promise nothing of the sort. I'll leave when I want to leave."

Jason knew there was logic in her words, but his back was up at her

automatic superiority.

Meta finished the jump settings without another word. There was a

tension in the room that prevented them both from talking.

It was the next shipday before he saw her again, then it was completely

by accident. She was in the astrogation dome when he entered, looking up

at the sparkling immensity of the jump sky. For the first time he saw

her off duty, wearing something other than a shipsuit. This was a loose,

soft robe that accentuated her beauty.

She smiled at him. "The stars are so wonderful," she said. "Come look."

Jason came close to her and with an unthinking, almost automatic

movement, put his arm around her. Neither did she resent it, for she

covered his hand with hers. Then they kissed and it was just the way he

knew it would be.