The Players
Page 9
Lanko told him. "Just hold complete neutralization.I'll cut them from inside."
He rose from his position behind the rock, idly kicking at the face ofit as he walked past. A shower of dust crumbled to the ground.
"Good thing there aren't any trees around here," he laughed. "We'd haveto put out a forest fire."
He pulled his hand weapon from his belt, made a careful adjustment, thenwalked over to the ship. After a quick examination, he directed theweapon toward a spot in the hull.
"Lot of credits here," he commented laconically. "Shame to hurt thefinish too much."
A few minutes later, he stepped back, examining his work. Then, henodded and removed another instrument from his tool kit. He focused iton the ship's port, flicked a switch on his belt, then snapped theinstrument on.
For a few seconds, nothing happened, then there was a grinding screechof tortured metal, and the port swung open.
As Lanko stepped inside, he examined the control room with care. Atlast, satisfied that no booby traps were set, he crossed to the controlpanel. He located the communicator controls, and picked up themicrophone.
"All's well, Ban," he reported. "Ease off."
He watched as the overloaded generator recovered. When the needles wereat normal readings, he flicked the screen controls off, then picked upthe microphone again.
"Haul out, Banasel," he ordered. "I'm going to fix this can up again,close the port, run up the screens, and wait for our boy to come home.Like to talk to him."
* * * * *
The sportster had a well stocked galley. Lanko ate with enjoyment,studying the tapes he had found interestedly. Finally, he pushed thelast reel aside, then sat back to gaze at the wall.
A low tone sounded, and the viewscreen activated. Lanko nodded tohimself, then went to the control room aperture, turning off the alarmas he went through. A few strides took him to the entry port, where hewaited, weapon in hand.
The door swung open and Lanko touched his trigger. The newcomer's screenflared briefly, then collapsed. Lanko stepped forward, examining hisprisoner.
He was humanoid. There were some differences from the usual typeencountered on the planet, but they were not serious. He could havepassed in most of the Galankar, if not anywhere. Some might even beattracted by his slightly unusual appearance. Lanko drew him into theship, and closed the port.
He took his time, making a complete search of the captive's clothing,and removing equipment and weapons. At last, he drew back, satisfiedthat the being was harmless. He waited. It wouldn't be too long beforethe business could begin.
As the paralysis effect wore off, the man on the floor flexed hismuscles, then got to his feet. Lanko watched him, his weapon resting onhis knees. As the man tensed to spring, Lanko raised the weapon alittle.
"You are Genro Kir?"
"Who are you? What's the idea?" Kir reached for his belt, then droppedhis hand again as he found nothing there.
"Resident Guardsman. Name's Lanko. You seem to be a little out of placeon this planet."
"I'm not responsible to some native patrolman." Kir's face becamestubborn. "I'm a Galactic Citizen."
"Possibly. We'll leave that to the Sector authorities." Lanko shrugged,his face expressionless. "Meantime, you'll have to accept things as theyare. Or would you rather be paralyzed again?"
Genro Kir tensed again, making an obvious mental effort.
Lanko grinned at him in real amusement. "I took it. Wouldn't do you muchgood anyway. They gave me heavy-duty equipment, you know." He wavedtoward a chair with his weapon. "Might as well sit down and talk aboutit. I've been through your tapes, of course."
Kir looked around unhappily, then sank into a chair. "What's there totalk about, then? You know what we were doing."
"In general, yes, we do. A good deal was on your tapes. But we need moredetail, and we've got to pick up your companions, you know. It would bea lot better if we knew where they were."
"I don't know where they are myself. They're building up their forces,and working for position. This is just the opening, you see. The realgame won't start for quite a while."
Lanko laughed shortly. "Frankly, I don't think it will start. But itwould make it simpler for all concerned if you'd help us find theplayers."
"I told you. I don't know where they are. They don't have to tell thereferee every move they make, unless they want a consultation as tolegality. I was just keeping watch on the general picture, to see thatneither of them broke a rule, or took an unfair advantage."
"You may not know where they are," Lanko admitted, "but you cancertainly contact them."
Genro Kir smiled tightly. "But I won't."
"They'll be hunted down, you know. We'll have them eventually. Be a loteasier for all concerned if you'd cooeperate."
"Cooeperate with a bunch of half savage natives, against my own friends?Don't be more stupid than you have to be!"
"I see." Lanko glanced away. "All very ethical, of course. Well, in thatcase, we'll have to go to work." He pulled a fine chain from a case athis belt, and walked over to his captive, weapon ready.
"Just hold still," he ordered. He slipped the delicate looking necklaceover the man's head, squeezed the pendant, and jumped back.
"I don't know whether you're familiar with this device," he said, "soI'll explain it to you. It's a type ninety-two gravitic manacle, and isdesigned to hold any known being. You can move about freely, so long asyou don't make any sudden or violent motion. The device is keyed to myshield, and you'll suffer temporary paralysis if you get within my nearzone. You're safe enough a couple of meters from me." He walked back tothe control console.
"Oh, yes," he added, "don't try to take it off. It's designed to preventthat action by positive means. It won't do you any permanent damage, butit can make you pretty uncomfortable. And, remember, if it becomesnecessary, I can activate the manacle. It'll put you into full paralysisand send out a strong homing signal."
Genro Kir looked at him sourly. "I won't try to escape," he promised.
"That's immaterial to me." Lanko flicked switches and the ship rose fromthe ground, swung, and started westward. "I was merely describing thecapabilities of the manacle."
* * * * *
On the way over the sea, Lanko noted the positions of a few of thetrading ships, and approached them closely, examining them. As heapproached a small archipelago, his communicator screen brightened.
"Resident Guardsman to Sportster. Identity yourself. Over."
Lanko picked up the microphone. "It's all right, Ban. Got one. Two moreto go."
"Fair enough. Come on in. I've got a beam on you."
Lanko checked the approach scope. The small circle was a trifle out ofcenter. He touched the control bar, and as the circle centered, hesnapped a switch and sat back.
The sportster dipped over an island, crossed a narrow lagoon, andsettled to the ground beside the guard flier. Lanko started pullingtools from his kit. Working carefully, he removed the cover from thecontrol console, examined the terminal blocks, then attached a smallcylinder between two terminals.
He closed the console again and walked over to the exit port, where hepressed the emergency release. The port swung wide. For an instant, thecontrol console was blurred. Lanko waited, then as the panel returned tofocus, he walked back to it. He snapped the drive switch on and pushedthe drive to maximum. Nothing happened. He punched the emergency powerbutton, and waited an instant. There was no result. He nodded to hisprisoner.
"Come on, Genro Kir. We may want you to talk to someone." He pointed tothe port. Kir hesitated, then went through. He managed a sneer as he didso.
The port of the flier opened, and Banasel looked out. "Need any help?"
"No. This spaceship won't fly till someone from Sector comes out to pullthe block." Lanko pointed. "This is Genro Kir. He was refereeing a sortof battle game between a couple of his companions."
Lanko herded Kir in front of him, and entered his own flier. He
placedthe equipment kit on a shelf, and sat down. Banasel perched on hisworkbench.
"What kind of a setup did these jokers have?"
"Well, you can review the tapes later and get a few of the details, buthere's the general idea:
"Genro Kir and his two companions made planetfall some years back. Theydidn't know it was a discovered planet, and failed to note any evidenceof our presence. Somehow, we missed them, too, for which we should hangour heads.
"Anyway, they checked the planet, found it was suitable to