"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."