distorter

Then, tucking his heavy duty distorter under his arm, he turned toward the outer door.

Barra put the distorter back in its rack, looking disgustedly at the mess on the cushions.

And no shield would stand up under that heavy-duty distorter, even if Barra could only summon a minimum of power to operate it.

The man stood, slack-faced, still holding his distorter rod, but gradually allowing it to sag toward the ground.

Had he somehow managed to retain full consciousness of ego, even after being reduced by a distorter beam?