As the car sighed to a stop, Sam cocked the bolt on his Narcoject Hypnos. The rifle version of the tranquilizer gun felt bulky and obvious. But this was a raid and inconspicuousness wasn’t a high priority. If the elevator disgorged security troopers, he’d probably need the extra capacity the rifle’s magazine afforded. Briefly, he wondered if he might be better off using the captured LD-120 pistol that rode in the holster at his hip. No, the building’s guards would just be doing their jobs. Did that deserve death? The druids and their acolytes deserved no mercy, but what of their unsuspecting minions?