Blared the microphone: "There is a rotation system in operation, men. When it is feasible, men will be rotated."
"Yeah, in thirty years it ain't been whatsiz—feasible—once!"
"That, unfortunately, is correct. When the situation permits, we will rotate you home."
"From where? Where are we going?"
"At least tell us that."
"Where?"
"How about that?"
There was a pause, then the microphone barked: "I don't know the answer to that question. You won't believe me, but it is the truth. No one knows where you are going. No one. Except the people who are already there."
More catcalls.
"That doesn't make sense," Arkalion whispered. "If it's space travel, the pilots would know, wouldn't they?"