"Maybe there is none."
"Then," said Barden, "why knock out a solar system that is so far away that nothing it does can have any effect upon you?"
"A very valid point," said Edith Ward. Her eyes opened wide and her jaw fell slack. "Goodness," she breathed.
"Are we?" he asked hollowly. His expression was one of wonder and amazement.
"Well, if we win and it works, they've hazarded nothing and still have their science. If we lose, they will not miss us in the first place and also they'll quickly abandon that point."
"Guinea pigs," snorted Edith. She stood up and put one slim hand in his. She gave it a hearty shake and a firm grasp. "I'm in—from right now to the point where the whole cosmos goes up in a cloud of nuclear particles! I'll be at your place in the morning with my case packed for a six months' trip. Now I'm getting a whole case of feminine curiosity!"
"Yes?" he said cheerfully. "What, this time?"
"Well, if your informant was tossing us an experiment, hoping to get an answer, then why did mine warn me? They'll never see a spaceship burst at a distance of a half dozen light-years. They might never really know."
"We'll find out," he said firmly. "There is something about both sides that I do not like!"