For the first time Jason was silent. Trying to imagine what life could be like on a planet constantly at war with itself.
"I’ve saved the best for last," Kerk said with grim humor. "Now that you have an idea of what the environment is like—think of the kind of life forms that would populate it. I doubt if there is one off–world species that would live a minute. Plants and animals on Pyrrus are tough. They fight the world and they fight each other. Hundreds of thousands of years of genetic weeding–out have produced things that would give even an electronic brain nightmares. Armor–plated, poisonous, claw–tipped and fanged–mouthed. That describes everything that walks, flaps or just sits and grows. Ever see a plant with teeth—that bite? I don’t think you want to. You’d have to be on Pyrrus and that means you would be dead within seconds of leaving the ship. Even I’ll have to take a refresher course before I’ll be able to go outside the landing buildings. The unending war for survival keeps the life forms competing and changing. Death is simple, but the ways of dealing it too numerous to list."
Unhappiness rode like a weight on Kerk’s broad shoulders. After long moments of thought he moved visibly to shake it off. Returning his attention to his food and mopping the gravy from his plate, he voiced part of his feelings.
"I suppose there is no logical reason why we should stay and fight this endless war. Except that Pyrrus is our home." The last piece of gravy–soaked bread vanished and he waved the empty fork at Jason.
"Be happy you’re an off–worlder and will never have to see it."
"That’s where you’re wrong." Jason said as calmly as he could. "You see, I’m going back with you."
