The blasters clattered to the floor. Thornwald picked one up, kicked the others away into the corner. Henderson remained transfixed in the center of the room, the bodyless arm clinging to his throat bizarrely.
"Where's your ultrawave radio?" Thornwald asked.
Henderson glared angrily and made no reply. Thornwald smiled apologetically and tightened his mental grip on the Governor's throat ever so slightly.
"Where's the ultrawave?" he repeated.
Henderson gestured to a niche in the wall. Warily, Thornwald stepped over to it. It was an ultrawave, all right. "Back to the wall," he said. "Okay, you three. If any of you makes a false move while I'm calling, Henderson dies—and you'll get the arm around your throat next."
He dialed the radio into operation with the muzzle of the blaster. There was a crackling sound, and then an operator's voice said, "Yes?"
"I want the Interstellar Police," Thornwald said.
"IP," said a metallic voice a few moments later.
"This is Mac Thornwald, retired captain. You know me?"
"Sure, Mac! What's up?"