"Murder?" the word came sharply. He relaxed. "They don't use their
sun. They won't miss it."
"How about their planet?"
Rex looked at him. Then his eyes shifted. He muttered, "The explosion
won't touch Worta. Too far away."
Carl said, "The explosion will rip that planet crossways and endways.
It'll turn it inside out. It'll tear it up into little pin-size lumps,
roast and boil the lumps, and dissipate the lumps into gases made of
dancing free electrons. That big gob of gas will puff itself out over
a few light-years of space, and that will be the end of Worta. Maybe
you didn't think of that. Or maybe you convinced yourself it wouldn't
happen."
A trapped expression grew on Rex's face. "It _won't_ happen!" he
shouted. He screamed, "Let me alone! Stop badgering me! You can't
change anything. I didn't know if it'd hurt Worta or not. I didn't
care any more. I came back to Worta to get you, just in case something
happened I didn't figure on. All I cared about was getting home. I want
to go home!"
He dropped his head, drawing in great tearing sobs, his broad shoulders
quaking.