The Moratoyons on the field moved swiftly. They clamped brakes and levers down and locked them; spun wheels and twisted dials. From the steel and cement cradle where it rested, the great cylinder of dull white metal lifted its blunt nose slowly, almost cautiously, and aimed it at the sky.
"It shoots atoms supercharged with light-photons," whispered Adatha Za.
The chief scientist of all Moratoyo paused and looked at Shar Bytu, who nodded. The Moratoyon whirled, shouting harshly, watching his men leap for the firing dials.
One after another the dials spun.
The firing pin was punched.
"God!" choked Jonathan hoarsely, staring in numb horror.
Where once the gun stood bright and shining there was a faint red mist that hung close to earth, beating bloodily in the flood of the arc carbon-dioxide lamps as though welling with life. Then it began to dissipate as a faint breeze wafted across the field.
There was a little hole in the ground, where the gun had been.
Jonathan became aware slowly of Adatha Za's hand that clung like a vise about his left wrist. He looked at her, saw her eyes convulsively closed; saw two tears trickling from beneath her long dark lashes.
Her moist red mouth trembled as she whispered, "They all fail. All of them. Like that. One moment they are here. Then they are gone. It is almost as if they destroyed themselves."