"They'll be hunted down, you know. We'll have them eventually. Be a lot
easier 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 that
case, we'll have to go to work." He pulled a fine chain from a case at
his belt, and walked over to his captive, weapon ready.
"Just hold still," he ordered. He slipped the delicate looking necklace
over the man's head, squeezed the pendant, and jumped back.
"I don't know whether you're familiar with this device," he said, "so
I'll explain it to you. It's a type ninety-two gravitic manacle, and is
designed to hold any known being. You can move about freely, so long as
you don't make any sudden or violent motion. The device is keyed to my
shield, and you'll suffer temporary paralysis if you get within my near
zone. You're safe enough a couple of meters from me." He walked back to
the control console.
"Oh, yes," he added, "don't try to take it off. It's designed to prevent
that action by positive means. It won't do you any permanent damage, but
it can make you pretty uncomfortable. And, remember, if it becomes
necessary, I can activate the manacle. It'll put you into full paralysis
and 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 from
the ground, swung, and started westward. "I was merely describing the
capabilities of the manacle."
* * * * *
On the way over the sea, Lanko noted the positions of a few of the
trading ships, and approached them closely, examining them. As he
approached 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 more
to 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 of
center. He touched the control bar, and as the circle centered, he
snapped a switch and sat back.
The sportster dipped over an island, crossed a narrow lagoon, and
settled to the ground beside the guard flier. Lanko started pulling
tools from his kit. Working carefully, he removed the cover from the
control console, examined the terminal blocks, then attached a small
cylinder between two terminals.
He closed the console again and walked over to the exit port, where he
pressed the emergency release. The port swung wide. For an instant, the
control console was blurred. Lanko waited, then as the panel returned to
focus, he walked back to it. He snapped the drive switch on and pushed
the drive to maximum. Nothing happened. He punched the emergency power
button, and waited an instant. There was no result. He nodded to his
prisoner.
"Come on, Genro Kir. We may want you to talk to someone." He pointed to
the port. Kir hesitated, then went through. He managed a sneer as he did
so.