Then, drawing a deep breath, I spoke—slowly, distinctly:

"Attention all stations! This is Agent Mark Traynor speaking, under special authorization of Controller Alfred Kruze, FedGov Interplanetary Security Headquarters.

"You are hereby directed to place under close arrest within one Earth hour any and all persons who have had possession of or contact with the devices known as Apex Perceptual Intensifiers or, more commonly, thrill-mills.

"A list of such persons is appended to this order. Immediately following their arrest, they will be transported by fastest available carrier to the nearest port area and there delivered to the port director for prompt dispatch under guard to FedGov Interplanetary Security Headquarters.

"No exceptions to this order will be granted. Any station controller asking for such exception, or failing to apprehend and deliver all listed persons within his station's prescribed jurisdiction, will automatically be included in the shipment order.

"Immediate acknowledgment of this order will be given by all stations...."

CHAPTER II

PRESSURE PLAY

I locked the door behind Gaylord. Then, crossing to the rack beside the psychostructor, I began hunting down city charts, transport and communications guides, specifications for the planet's anti-Kel defenses.

They added up to a neat pile of reels. Clamping electrodes to my temples, I turned on the psychostructor, slapped the first spool into place, and settled down to the tedium of waiting for the mechanism to hammer data into my brain.

In twenty minutes, the streets and alleys were my own. In forty, I knew my way through every observation post and satellite control board.

At fifty, the voco rang.

Numb with fatigue, I lurched up, tore off the clamps, and hurried to the scanner-speaker unit.

Blonde and lovely, a girl smiled up at me from the plate. "How do you do. May I speak with Agent Mark Traynor, please?"

"I'm Traynor."

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