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We marched for days across that desolate landscape. I knew that at the end of our journey my death awaited, and my bones would join those of the rest of my crew in uneasy rest far from home.
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Appeals to the mercy of my tireless captor would go unheeded. The single baleful eye from which gazed out a vast alien intellect reflected not a glimmer of pity, nor of hope.
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Man truly is but an insect beating its wings in an infinite night. Streaks of fire and matter may seem to mark our way through the darkness, but the vast spinning rocks shelter only madness and pain.
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says: