“What’s that?”

“I read about it in the books from Beforethewars. Mostly people with spaceships 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.”

He made for the narrow spiral stairs that led to the main floor of the barn, stopped at its head, then backed away.