Part 2

But Karin saw them too. The yellow star was undergoing a change in shape. Slowly it was becoming longer and narrower, both ends maintaining the same distance from the green star. When a constriction appeared in the middle, it looked for all the world like a super-amoeba beginning to undergo mitosis, and he wondered if it was going to split, like the amoeba, into two bodies.

But the process came to a halt when the star had assumed the shape of a huge diabolical dumbell, two great spheres of flame held together by a narrow connecting link a mere two hundred thousand miles in diameter.

The green star began to reply. It too grew longer, but the shape became that of a super-spindle, the middle thickened, the ends sharpened. Jan became aware of currents of flame that raced from one end out into space and then around to the other end, where they were absorbed into the body of the star again. Two fantastic cosmic fencers were about to clash, one assuming the position of attack, the other apparently putting itself on guard.

"Wonder when the fun begins," Jan muttered.

"It won't be fun for us," said Karin grimly. Her hands clenched in sudden fury. "If we could only _do_ something, instead of just standing here helpless, like--like--"

"A bird on a battlefield," said Jan helpfully. "But we've already gone over that, haven't we? They're too big for us. They have all the material advantages. They--" He broke off abruptly, his eyes narrowing. Startled, Karin waited for him to continue in sudden, desperate hope. "Material advantages," he went on slowly. "Yes, they have them. But spiritually--or rather, mentally--we're in the _same_ boat. I think we can make something of that."

"I don't understand you," said Karin.

"I mean that they're as ignorant of us as we are of them. Perhaps they're even _more_ ignorant. They know that we're small, and incapable of applying a force that could break out of the field surrounding us. They know we haven't been harmed by anything they've thrown at each other--so far. But I'll bet they can't examine the inside of this ship. I'll bet they can't tell what we look like, what intelligence we have.

"We know some of the things they can do, although not all. We know something of the fields of force they can exert. And we know that they must be creatures so different from us that any strange behavior on our part will seem to them potentially dangerous."

"You're philosophizing again," said Karin in disgust.

"No, I'm analyzing. Their ignorance of us will be our weapon. We're small, but there's no evidence we can't harm them. An atomic bomb is small too. And we're in a favorable psychological position. They're busy watching each other, waiting for each other's moves, with the initiative apparently on the side of the yellow star.

"If we act in any way to upset the present near-balance, they'll take us seriously. We may be the straw that breaks the camel's back, the tiny force that tips the balance one way or another."

"It's absurd," said Karin. "We're too small. We aren't big enough to be a straw. We're just a couple of molecules on the straw."

"But they don't know that! And even if they suspect it, they can't be sure. Because there's one material weapon we have that may be dangerous to them."

"Our radiation shield system!" Karin gasped.

"Exactly. If it absorbed enough energy, it might upset plans for either attack or defense."

"They must know it's too weak to make any difference. If it were really powerful, they'd expect us to have used it before."

"No," said Jan. "They probably realize that we use it for just one purpose--to protect ourselves. We mustn't subject it to excess strain. But suppose we're desperate, and decide we're finished anyway. Suppose we make up our minds to take one of our enemies with us. Suppose we try to commit suicide on a really heroic scale."

Karin stared at him, her lips whitening. "If you really want to, Jan."

"I _don't_ want to. But I want them to get that impression. Suppose I aim the ship at the yellow star, start all the motors, and turn on the radiation shield system to the limits of its capacity. Remember the state of uncertainty they're in anyway. What do you think they'll do?"

"I don't know."

"They'll _have_ to do something. They just won't let us plunge into them."

"But what--?"

"That," said Jan grimly, "we'll find out. Whatever happens, it'll be better than waiting."

"You said that before when you took a chance passing between the two stars. Don't be in a hurry, Jan."

But Jan was already maneuvering the ship around. The radiation shield was on, and the motors were blasting more and more rapidly. They picked up speed.

With grim deliberation he aimed the nose of the ship at the center of one of the yellow spheres. Swiftly, the yellow dumbell-shaped star grew in the direct vision plate, spreading a saffron glow over the differential visor. Yellow blotted out all the other colors of space. The vision screen began to glow not only with light, but with a faint heat of its own.

But the air in the rest of the ship had become cool. The radiation system was working beautifully, and the creatures on the yellow star must know that. The system would be shattered in the corona, vaporized in the star itself. But what harm might it not do before it died?

Jan shivered, without knowing whether it was from the drop in temperature, or from the growing fear that was overwhelming him. From the yellow star there came no move. Another few seconds, and the screen would begin to falter and fail. When that happened it would be too late to reverse the direction of the ship. It would plunge straight into the fiery mass.

He turned to Karin, and said hoarsely, "I'm sorry, darling, you were right after all. We should have waited."

"No, I couldn't have stood it any longer. It's better this way, Jan--"

Something struck the ship a great blow. Something sent them whirling end over end away from the yellow star. With the motors blasting away as strongly as they could, the ship was describing a great erratic arc, like a toy jet set off by a child, and tossed high into the air.

But there was no air here, nothing to brake the crazy spin. Yellow and green flashed in and out of the viewing screens, fainter and smaller each time. They were being hurled away from the twin stars with a constantly mounting velocity, a terrifying lurching and swaying.

Jan began to drag himself toward the controls, saw that Karin had already reached them. The ship was straightening out. At times it wobbled so violently that he was afraid of the strain on the hull. But the wobbling never persisted, always being transformed, just in time into another form of erratic spin.

Slowly their energy of rotation died away, absorbed by the anti-spin gyroscopes. When they straightened out, they were far past the barrier. Eighty million miles separated them from the two stars. Streamers of blackness were shooting from both ends of the green spindle toward the yellow dumbell, which had contracted sharply in an attempt to defend itself.

Jan took a deep breath. "We were lucky," he cried. "They were both under so much tension, they took me seriously. The yellow star diverted some of its forces to defend itself from me, and the green star used the occasion to head off the attack with a counter-attack of its own."

"I know!" Karin breathed.

"Shall we wait to see what happens?"

"No, Jan. Let's get away fast."

Karin was smiling at him, and Jan could not help smiling back at her. But he was aware of a tenseness of his own as he asked, with seeming casualness, "Still want that divorce?"

Karin said slowly, "We've got at least two weeks to go before we reach our own System. By that time I'll want it. But don't give it to me. Do you understand, Jan? Whatever happens, _refuse me a divorce_."

"Those are orders?"

"Absolute orders. When we land on Earth, I'll take a vacation from you for about a month. After that we'll spend the rest of our lives together. But always with other people around."

"Always?"

"Almost always. At moments like this, I admit, other people would be in the way."

Green star and yellow star faded into the distance. The bird, thought Jan, had escaped from the battlefield. It was only natural for it to burst into song.