It was not possible to die from lack of air or from cold on a world without the time continuum. Ramsey, Vardin and Margot had proved that by venturing out without protection.
But the Irwadi had died.
Mental suggestion?
Because he thought he would die?
Because that was the only way you could perish on a world lacking in the time dimension—by your own thoughts?
The second space-suited figure closed with Ramsey awkwardly. Ramsey hit him. The man of Irwadi fell, his helmet cracked, he tried to scream—and died.
The third man fled.
Ramsey ran after Margot. “Wait!” he cried. He couldn’t talk to her about his fantastic vision. It was personal. She wouldn’t understand. Mystic experience always is like that. And yet, with the conviction that only a mystic can have—although he certainly was no mystic—Ramsey knew the galaxy would be in grave trouble if mankind were given the secret of matter-transmission.
A voice said: “You are right.”
It was Vardin’s voice, and Vardin went on: