The Players

by Everett B. Cole

theSector Guardsmen to back us up if necessary. We could run into somethingtoo hot for us to handle."

  Banasel nodded and turned to the communicator. Lanko dropped into thepilot seat, glanced at the screens, and moved controls. In theviewscreen, the sea tilted, drew farther away, then became a level,featureless blue expanse.

  * * * * *

  "Well, here's your eastern continent. In fact, this is the city ofKneuros. It's where you wanted to go, isn't it?"

  Musa looked at Banasel thoughtfully.

  "Yes," he admitted. "It's where I thought I wanted to go, but now Ireally know what I wanted in the first place."

  "Oh?"

  "Certainly. I was restless. I thought I liked being a trader in Karth,and I was a fairly good trader, too. But I was just getting things atsecondhand. I turned down just what I really wanted, because it scaredme. That was a long time ago." He looked at the control panel. He'dunderstood such panels once, some years ago.

  "How do you plan to find your aliens--if there are any?"

  "Search pattern." Lanko shrugged. "We'll cruise around in a grid patternuntil we pick up some sort of reading, or until we spot somethingabnormal." He pointed at a series of instruments.

  "They're bound to have a ship somewhere, and we'll pick up a smallamount of power radiation from their screens. If their ship wereorbiting in space, we'd have picked it up long ago, so we must assumeit's grounded. I think we'd better go right into a pattern. We can useKneuros as origin." He stared at the plotting instruments.

  "Let's see. If I wanted to hide a ship, I'd use the most inaccessiblelocation I could find. We do that ourselves, in fact. And there are somemountainous regions inland." He set up course and speed.

  "Yeah," Banasel added, "and I'd worry a lot more about ground approachthan air accessibility, at least on this planet."

  The ship gained altitude, accelerated, and sped eastward.

  Day by day, the course trace built up, the cameras recorded the terrainunder the ship, and the two guardsmen built up their mosaic. The shipcrossed and re-crossed the continent, mapping as it went.

  From time to time, Lanko made careful comparison of the new mosaic withan earlier survey, noting differences. There were new settlements. Wheremembers of a nomadic culture had roamed the prairie, an industrialcivilization was rapidly growing.

  Lanko tapped on the map. "Two cultures," he observed. "Two cultures,separated by mountains and desert. Absolutely no evidence of contact,but considerable similarity between them. This pattern begins to lookfamiliar."

  He picked a tape from the shelves, ran it through a viewer, thenreversed it, and picked out various portions for recheck. Finally, hemade a superposition of some of their observation tape, examined it, andturned. Banasel held up a hand.

  "Don't tell us," he growled. "I studied about drones, too."

  "Drones?" Musa looked at him, then glanced back at the viewer.

  "Yes. Characters from one of the advanced cultures, who feel frustrated,and fail to fit in. They often turn into pleasure seekers, andfrequently end up by monkeying with primitive cultures, to prove theirability to themselves, at least."

  "Things like this happen often?"

  "Oh, not too often, I suppose, but often enough so that people like usare stationed on every known primitive planet, to prevent activity ofthe type. You see, the drones usually start out simply, by setting upminor interference in business or government on some primitive planet.Usually, they're caught pretty quickly. But sometimes they evadecapture. And they can end up by exerting serious influence in culturalpatterns. Some planets have been set back, and even destroyed as aresult of drone activity. Although their motives are different,drones're just as bad and just as dangerous as any other criminal."

  Lanko grinned a little. "Only difference is, they're usually easier tocombat than organized criminal groups with a real purpose. Generally,they're irresponsible youngsters who don't have the weapons,organization, or ability that the real criminals come up with." Heshrugged.

  "Of course," he added, "we've called for help just in case. But we'llprobably be able to take care of this situation by ourselves. In fact,unless there are unusual features, we'd better, if we don't want to beregarded as somewhat ineffectual." He paused, glanced toward thedetector set, and tapped on the map again, then slowly traced out anarea.

  "We should be picking up something pretty soon," he said, thoughtfully."Better set up a pattern around here, in the mountain ranges, Banasel.We can worry about settled areas later."

  * * * * *

  A needle flickered, rose from zero, then steadied.

  Somewhere, back of the instrument panel, a tiny current actuated a microrelay, and an alarm drop fell.

  As the warning buzz sounded, both Lanko and Banasel looked over at thedetector panel.

  "Well, it's about time." Lanko leaned to his right, setting switches. Ascreen lit up, showing a faint, red dot. He touched the controls,bringing the dot to center screen, then checked the meters.

  "Not too far," he remarked. "A little out of normal range, though. Hemust have all his screen power on."

  Banasel turned back to the workbench, studied the labels on the drawersfor a moment, then opened one.

  "Guess we'll need a can opener?"

  "We might. If he's aboard, we may have to get a little rough." Lankoleaned back.

  "Check the power pattern. Sort of like to know what we're running intobefore we commit ourselves." He glanced again at the indicators, thenpoked at switches.

  "In fact, I think we'd better wait right here, till we get this boyidentified."

  Banasel was whistling tunelessly as he set up readings on a computer.Finally, he poked the activator bar, and watched as the machine spat outtape. Above the tape chute, a series of graphs indicated thecomputations, but Banasel ignored them, feeding the tape into anothermachine.

  "I suppose there are some characters who could make a positiveidentification from the figures and curves. But I'm just a beginner.That's why they furnish integrator directories, I guess."

  Lanko smiled. "I don't know anything, either," he agreed. "But Igenerally know where I can look up what I need." He set a compact reelof tape into the computer.

  They watched the directory as its screens glowed. Figures anddescriptions shimmered, and there was a rapid ticking. A sheet flowedout toward them, and Banasel tore it off as the ticks ceased.

  "Type seventeen screens," he read. "Probably Ietorian model Nanfifty-seven generators. Strictly a sportster setup. He's gotelectromagnetics and physical contact screens, but there's nothing else.And, with the type of readings I've got here, I'd say he's running allthe 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 takecare 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 tinylevel space, too small for any ship. Above it, towered bare rock, tippedwith eternal snow. Lanko examined the scene disgustedly.

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

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

  The hiss continued. Lanko punched another stud, and listened. The hissremained 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, hestood, checking his equipment belt. Then, he reached to a cabinet, topick up a tool kit. He opened the box, examined its contents, thenturned 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 fullpower.

  "Screens down," he ordered.

  * * * * *

  A faint haze grew about the sportster. At first, it was a barelyperceptible 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 moreand knock out the generators?"

  "Not necessary,"