stic. He did not know what to make of it.

Playing chess with Margot was--proto-man.

Ramsey only saw his hand.

A hand perhaps five million years old.

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 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!"

It was Garr Symm's voice.

Ramsey did not know if he should stop Margot himself, or fight Symm's
men. Although they couldn't use their weapons on this world, they could
still hurt--possibly even kill--Margot. Ramsey turned and waited for
them.

The strange, mystic vision was gone. He saw only three space-suited
figures, saw Margot walking steadily toward the box. Either she was
moving very slowly or the box retreated or it was further away than it
had looked at first. For she hadn't reached it yet.

Ramsey met the space-suited figures head-on.

There were three of them, but they were awkward in their suits,
cumbersome, incapable of quick responses.

Ramsey hit the first one in the belly and darted back. His fist felt
contact with the soft bulk of the insulined suit, then with the harder
bulk of the man. He struck again, harder this time.

* * * * *

The scaly green face of the Irwadi within the space-suit grimaced with
pain. He doubled over and fell, his helmet shattering against the ground
at Ramsey's feet.

Then an incredible thing happened. The Irwadi opened his mouth to
scream. His face