The communicator was flashing its light and burring stridently.
Durham switched it on. Jubb's face appeared in the tiny screen. "You are safe? Good, good. For a moment I thought—! Listen. I have word from my patrol that Morrison has other ships with him now, spread out to catch you if by chance you get through. That is what decided me to use the Bitter Star. I am angry, Karlovic. I am tired of mockery and lies and secret violence. I am tired of peace which is only a cloak for another man's aggression."
A darkbird came into the cabin and hung over Durham's shoulder. "It will carry your messages," said Jubb. "I am leaving now for the port, and my own flagship. We go together. Good luck."
The screen went dead. Durham said, "Strap in, we're taking off."
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.