sk you to stop transmitting. We don't choose to
become part of your empire."

"I'm sorry," the Ambassador said. He shrugged his shoulders easily.
Cercy wondered how many times he had played this scene on how many
other planets.

"There's really nothing I can do." He stood up.

"Then you won't stop?"

"I can't. I have no control over the sending, once it's activated."
The diplomat turned and walked to the window. "However, I have
prepared a philosophy for you. It is my duty, as your Ambassador, to
ease the shock of transition as much as possible. This philosophy will
make it instantly apparent that--"

As the Ambassador reached the window, Cercy's gun was out of his
pocket and roaring. He squeezed six rounds in almost a single
explosion, aiming at the Ambassador's head and back. Then an
uncontrollable shudder ran through him.

The Ambassador was no longer there!

* * * * *

Cercy and Darrig stared at each other. Darrig muttered something about
ghosts. Then, just as suddenly, the Ambassador was back.

"You didn't think," he said, "that it would be as easy as all that,
did you? We Ambassadors have, necessarily, a certain diplomatic
immunity." He fingered one of the bullet holes in the wall. "In case
you don't understand, let me put it this way. It is not in your power
to kill me. You couldn't even understand the nature of my defense."

He looked at them, and in that moment Cercy felt the Ambassador's
complete alienness.

"Good day, gentlemen," he said.

Darrig and Cercy walked silently back to the control room. Neither had
really expected that the Ambassador would be killed so easily, but it
had still been a shock when the slugs had failed.

"I suppose you saw it all, Malley?" Cercy asked, when he reached the
control room.

The thin, balding psychiatrist nodded sadly. "Got it on film, too."

"I wonder what his philosophy is," Darrig mused, half to himself.

"It was illogical to expect it would work. No race would send an
ambassador with a message like that and expect him to live through it.
Unless--"

"Unless what?"

"Unless he had a pretty effective defense," the psychiatrist finished
unhappily.

Cercy walked across the room and looked at the video panel. The
Ambassador's suite was very special. It had been hurriedly constructed
two days after he had landed and delivered his message. The suite was
steel and lead lined, filled with video and movie cameras, recorders,