* * * * *
The Star, with its herding pack of shadows, set a course that took them
steeply up out of Senya Dik's shadow, into the full flood of the green
sun's light. The darkbird spoke by Durham's shoulder, and Karlovic said,
"The Star must feed--or recharge itself, as you would say, with solar
heat. Watch it, Durham. Watch it grow."
He watched. The Star spread out its misty substance, spreading it wide
to the sun, and the soft shining of it brightened to an angry glare
that grew and widened and became like a burning cloud, not green like
the sunlight but white as pearl.
Far off to one side of it Durham saw the glinting of a ship's hull. He
pointed to it.
Karlovic worked with the communicator. In a minute the screen lit up,
and Morrison's face was in it.
"Hello, Morrison," he said. "Hello, thief."
Morrison's face was as hard and white as something carved from bone.
"It wasn't just an old wive's tale, Morrison," he said. "It was true,
and here it is. The Bitter Star, Morrison."
Karlovic reached over and shook him, pointing out the viewport. Coming
swiftly in toward them was a small ship, curiously shaped before.
"Space-sweep," Karlovic said. "Those funny bulges are torpedo tubes,
and the torpedoes carry heavy scatter charges to clear away debris so
the ore ships can come in."