He blinked. The vision persisted, superimposed over Margot’s figure as she walked toward the box.
A game, he thought. Because we don’t understand it. Not that kind of power. Not the power a matter-transmitter [p 122] would give. A cosmic game on a chess-board which wasn’t quite a chess-board, with a creature who had never lived as we know life and so could never die….
With the future of the galaxy hanging in the balance. Life or death for man hanging on a slim thread, because man wasn’t ready for matter-transmission, couldn’t hope to use it wisely, would use it perhaps for war, transmitting lethal weapons, thermonuclear, world-destroying weapons, instantly through space, for delivery anywhere, negating time….
Death hovered.
“Wait!” Ramsey called, and ran forward.
Just then five new figures, space-suited, appeared under the gleaming dome.
“Stop that woman!” a voice which Ramsey should not have been able to hear but which he somehow heard perfectly cried. “Stop her!”
M.g. guns were raised, fired.
Without effect.
Three of the spacesuited figures ran after Margot as the voice repeated: “Stop her! The box is mine, mine!”