Red was glad to. He said, “Now what’s biting you?”
“One of them’s got something on him that looks like it might be iron or something.”
“Where?”
“Right there. I saw it before but I thought it was just part of him. But if he’s ‘people,’ maybe it’s a disintegrator gun.”
“What’s that?”
“I read about it in the books from Beforethewars. Mostly people with space-ships have disintegrator guns. They point them at you and you get disintegratored.”
“They didn’t point it at us till now,” pointed out Red with his heart not quite in it.
“I don’t care. I’m not hanging around here and getting disintegratored. I’m getting my father.”
“Cowardy-cat. Yellow cowardy-cat.”
“I don’t care. You can call all the names you want, but if you bother them now you’ll get disintegratored. You wait and see, and it’ll be all your fault.”