"The sonovagun," he said. "The poor, poor, sonovagun."
Impersonal words broke into the dream. "We have seen. It is sufficient." The screen flickered and grew dim. "Can you stand further probing, Captain? May we proceed?"
"Yes."
"There is yet one more time. March fifteenth."
"I remember."
"Then relax ... drift. There are two men. They hang above a yellow sun ... space sleeps at their feet...."
An image formed and wavered and formed again.
"Their words are whispered ... they speak softly in the presence of immensity...."
It crystallized....