The arm suddenly came alive in Henderson's hands. Before he could do anything, the fingers spread, grasped, reached upward, and wrapped themselves around Henderson's fleshy neck in an iron grip.
"That thing's got the chief!"
Thornwald held up his hand. "Tell your men to drop their blasters, Henderson. I assure you they can't kill me quick enough for me not to crush your throat with that arm."
Henderson emitted choking, strangling sounds that might almost have been, "Drop the guns!" The Governor's florid face was bright red, and where the fingers dug into his throat the skin was a bloodless white.
The three guards looked around in dismay.
"Don't shoot him!" Henderson ordered. "Drop the guns!"