"You're wonderful people," she thought simply, after several minutes.
"To one so beautiful, how else could we be?" asked Juan Pedro.
"Ignore him, Dorrine," said Sonali, "he tells me the same thing."
"But not in the same way, amiga!" the Spaniard protested. "Not in the same way. The beauty of your mind, Sonali, is like the beauty of a mountain lake, cool and serene; the beauty of Dorrine is like the beauty of the sun—warm, fiery, and brilliant."
"By my beard!" snorted Matsukuo. "Such blather!"
"I'll be willing to wager my beautiful hacienda in the lovely countryside of Aragon against your miserable palm-leaf nipi shack on Oahu that you have no beard," said Juan Pedro.
"Hah!" said Matsukuo; "that's all I need now—Castles in Spain."
It was suddenly dizzying for Houston. Here were five people, doomed to slow, painful death, talking as though there were nothing to worry about. Within minutes, each had learned to know the others almost perfectly.
It was more than just the words each used. Talking aloud helped focus the thoughts more, but at the same time, thousands of little, personal, fringe ideas were present with the main idea transmitted in words. Houston had talked telepathically to Dorrine hundreds of times, but never before had so much fine detail come through.
Why? Was there something different about space that made mental communication so much more complete?