As the yellow star swept through the phases of its powerful pulsation, Jan felt as if every bone and muscle of his body was in the grip of a giant hand, being twisted and wrenched without mercy. Karin's body stiffened, and he heard her cry out. The next moment, her body crumpled, and she sagged to the deck in a dead faint.
Jan started to crawl toward her, felt the giant hand close on his own brain, and blacked out.
When Jan awoke again, both stars seemed normal once more, blazing as steadily as when he had first seen them. Karin was awake too—sitting up with her hands pressed to her temples.
"Truce rejected," Jan said bitterly. "They don't care what happens to the bird on the battlefield, apparently."
"Perhaps we should edge closer to the one that wanted the truce," Karin whispered shakily.
Jan shook his head. "Let's not give either side the idea that we have any sympathies at all. Taking sides in a fight too big for us is a sure way to commit suicide."
His lips tightened. "We'd better get as far away as we can from both of them without using up too much of our fuel fighting their force fields. That at least will spare our radiation shield from too much strain."
"I still think we should get closer to the green one. At least its creatures aren't as bloodthirsty as the others appear to be."
"Neither one is bloodthirsty. Just flamethirsty," said Jan grimly. "And personally, I wouldn't trust the green sun as far as I could throw it."
The uneasy silence of space surrounded them again. Green star and yellow star shone quietly, their coronas as thin and bright as supernatural haloes. Small sunspots whirled on their surfaces—as they did on the surface of every well-behaved star of reasonably large mass. And within the ship, Jan and Karin waited with dread impatience for the next move in the unearthly war.