"Don't stand there gloating, Jim—get moving," the brown native said. "Within a month I want you not only to know how a Thor gun works but to be manufacturing them by the dozens, including the large sizes. This is the gun that has been stopping us all these years—it is the gun that is going to take us out of these pig pens they call museums. Get moving!"
"Yes, sir." Jim was already gone through the trap door.
The brown native jerked off the instructor's clothes, then worked quickly but deftly with his knife. As he finished, the instructor's hand separated from the arm at the wrist.
"He said no one would ever think of doing anything like that," Billy Kasker said.
"Nobody but one of us stinking natives." The brown man removed the plasticum bracelet, began to work with the fingers of his left hand. "I've spent years learning how to throw my thumb out of joint, just getting ready for the time—"
The plasticum bracelet slipped over the collapsed thumb. It fitted very snugly on his wrist. He held it up.
"Neat, eh. This makes me one of the conquerors."
"A nice fit. But we have very little time. The group will become alarmed."
The second native began to take the instructor's body down the trap door. The brown native swiftly slipped off his clothes and donned the garments the instructor had worn.