unlike blue-green pulchritude upon which everything was forced to keep moving lest it be eaten , the planet itself vulnerable , forever enacting death on its lumpy surface in order to forestall the transfixing of its lonely heart , the sun , a g2 sub-dwarf , was a great butter churn just waiting to be dipped into , spread copiously on a variety of space-faring loaves and ultimately tongues , fuel for the stomachs and engines that thrived on such transportational plunder .