"I knew, dad. I understand."
The voice rumbled on, and tears formed in the steely eyes. "I beg you to forgive me. You're the bravest of the Jemsons, Dirk. The bravest. I'm proud of you, son. Understand? Proud of you."
Dirk managed a nod. The gelatine lapped now over the top of the desk. The ship was filled with the terrible sucking, bubbling noise.
Then with the butt of his disinteray, he smashed the audio-visor. He was alone; alone with the horror that inched toward him.
He concentrated on the visi-shield. The disc of Terra was plainer now, but safely to his right. Ahead lay the blazing furnace of the sun.
Dirk braced himself and waited. He tried not to think of the smothering ooze which crept slowly up to possess him. Instead, he thought of the purifying, purging white heat of the sun toward which they plunged; he thought of the sound of his father's voice saying: "I'm proud of you, son. I'm proud of you."
Dirk closed his eyes and smiled.