unning all
the power he's got. Do we go in?"

"Sure we do." Lanko nodded confidently as he slapped the drive lever.

"This thing we've got's only an atmosphere flier, but it's made to take
care of tougher stuff than luxury sportsters. Set up your can opener,
just in case our boy wants to argue with us."

Banasel nodded silently.

The small sportster was parked between two peaks. Before it was a tiny
level space, too small for any ship. Above it, towered bare rock, tipped
with eternal snow. Lanko examined the scene disgustedly.

"Inhospitable, isn't he?" he grunted. "He could at least have had enough
front yard for a visitor to land." He picked up a microphone, touched a
stud, and turned a knob. A faint hiss sounded from the speaker before
him.

"Philcor resident calling sportster," he snapped. "Come in, Over."

The hiss continued. Lanko punched another stud, and listened. The hiss
remained unchanged.

"Open him up, Banasel," he finally ordered. "I'm going in."

He rose from his chair, crossing to the exit port. For an instant, he
stood, checking his equipment belt. Then, he reached to a cabinet, to
pick up a tool kit. He opened the box, examined its contents, then
turned and nodded to Banasel.

The port opened wide, and he stepped through.

He dropped lightly to the space before the sportster, then stepped away,
crouching behind a rock out-crop, and turned his body shield to full
power.

"Screens down," he ordered.

* * * * *

A faint haze grew about the sportster. At first, it was a barely
perceptible fluorescence. Then, it became a fiercely incandescent glow.
It flamed for a few seconds, then faded, becoming green, yellow, red,
and at last, blinking to invisibility.

"They're damped," Banasel's voice announced. "Shall I give him some more
and knock out the generators?"

"Not necessary," 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 of
it 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 have
to put out a forest fire."

He pulled his hand weapon from his belt, made a careful adjustment, then
walked over to the ship. After a quick examination, he directed the
weapon toward a spot in the hull.

"Lot of credits here," he commented laconically. "Shame to hurt the
finish too much."

A fe