"Dirk," The Commandant's face blurred back on the audio-visor. "Dirk, are you sure you can't get back here? Can't you try?"
"I know I can't," Dirk answered, and his tongue seemed to cling to the roof of his mouth.
"Maybe you can hit a spot on Terra that isn't thickly populated. Maybe they'll be able to devise some way of stopping it." The Commandant's voice sounded lame, strained.
For a moment, Dirk was unaware of his father's face on the audio-visor, unaware of the sucking mass that crept closer and closer to him, unaware of the swirling universe outside.
Dirk remembered only the spring green of the low, rolling hills around his home; the smell of lilacs battered by April rains; the cry of fledgling birds in the pink-grey of summer dawns; the crisp sound of snow under sled runners; and the gentle caress of water in a blue-green lake. Dirk remembered these things, and abruptly, he changed his course.
"What are you doing?" His father checked him from the audio-visor. "You've changed your course. You're headed for the sun, Dirk!"
"I can't land on Terra, dad. You heard Tabor. I can't destroy Terra to save my own skin." He looked down at his shoes. The first jellied tentacle had slipped over his foot. With a wild kick, he threw it off. The floor was almost covered now, and it was rising on the walls. By geometric progression Tabor had said. It would go rapidly toward the end.
"You're going to crash into the sun. You're going to destroy the Thing, Dirk." His father's voice was hoarse, "If only there was something I could do to help!"
Dirk turned and looked full in his father's face. "There's nothing, dad. And I ... I think it would be better if ... if you didn't look any more. I'll smash the audio-visor." He raised the butt of his disinteray.
"Son. Wait." His father's voice stopped him as surely as if he had restrained him with his hand. "Son, I said some terrible things to you. I can only beg you to forgive me."