He shook her. "What are you talking about!" he cried. "The pile isn't going to erupt!" "Crystal focusses ... ship ... only when pile...." His face blanched. She whispered again, so softly that he had to bend his ear to her lips. "_You escape ... get in ship...._" He stared at her incredulously. "You'd let me get away with the pile secret!" She relaxed in his arms, smiling sleepily, while the tiny red trickle from the corner of her mouth grew wider. "Stupid of me." She shivered. "... cold...." The Viscount of the Tharn Suns, the greatest star-cluster in the Scythe federation, knotted his jaw muscles feverishly and gnawed at his lower lip. Somehow or other the strain-pile had been energized. Probably the terrific proton storm that had hidden both ships for years had compensated for the unrealized potential of the undrawn fifth rod. It was his duty to the federation to throw this woman to the floor and take refuge between the shadowy, shimmering walls of the escape ship. He must carry the secret of the pile to safety with him. He had only seconds. He looked down distractedly at the small creature who was destroying the proud ships that two great civilizations had spent a generation in building. She seemed to be in a deep, peaceful sleep. The only sign of life was a faint pulse in her throat. She was the only woman that he had ever found whose companionship he could have ... enjoyed hour after hour. He almost thought, "could have loved." The room was growing quite warm. The tremendous currents coursing through the walls were swiftly growing stronger. Another thought occurred to him: How had those Terran mentors planned for their escape ship to avoid the holocaust? Any matter within millions of miles would be destroyed. It was evident, then, that wherever the ship was, it was _not_ within the danger zone. Suddenly he understood everything. With a queer smile, in which ribald surmise and tenderness fought for supremacy, he picked the woman up, carried her into the phantom vessel, placed her on the pilot's lounge, and strapped her in. From his waist-purse he took a hypodermic syringe, removed the sheath from the needle, and thrust it into her arm. Her face twinged briefly, but she did not waken. He threw a blanket over her and then strode quickly to the controls. They were fairly simple, and he had no difficulty in switching the automatic drive to the general direction of the Tharn sun cluster. He wrote a hasty note on the pilot's navigation pad, and then turned again to the woman. He removed one of his duplicate jeweled rings and slipped it on her finger. His father would recognize it and would believe her. Then he bent over her and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Perhaps I love you too, my dearest enemy," he whispered gently. "Educate our son-to-be in the ways of peace." Again outside the ship, he spun the space lock that sealed her in. The ship's walls were now growing opaque and he could no longer see inside.