Kartr stamped on the dais. “Fairly substantial fable, don’t you think? You are in the Hall of Leave-Taking now—look at the seats of the first star rangers, if you wish.” He pointed to the chairs. “Read what is carved on the back of this one. Yes, this is Terra of Sol!”
Somewhere in the future
Far away from here
Trouble is waiting
On the last frontier
Into these worlds of unknown danger they ride
They’re the Galaxy Rangers
Heroes in the sky
No Guts No Glory
No Pain No Gain
One for all, all for one
Riders on the range
No Guts No Glory
We’re taking a stand
Ready to prove it again
My life changed yesterday, when you sat down next to me. I was dying, and you saved me. You did it through tenacity and sheer force of will. You picked me up, and you refused to put me back down again until I was able to walk. You did it for reasons I can’t even fathom.
All that you touch
You Change.
All that you Change
Changes you.
The only lasting truth
Is Change.
God
Is Change.
So get down there and do something right for a change.
How could a species that exterminates all mutated offspring have evolved?
My theory is that the Ancients unwittingly allowed humans to evolve on a planet with, uh, insect species on it. At some point the insects fed on humans and somehow incorporated our DNA into theirs. The Wraith are an evolution of that combination.
Help! Help me!
No, no it’s my rescue, Bill.
That’s it, man. Game over, man. Game over! What the fuck are we gonna do now? What are we gonna do?
Trust in the law!
“Your eyes can deceive you; don’t trust them.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I just met you. On the other hand, you have just saved my keister twice, so I owe you that much.”
“As you can see, since Bender’s death, requests to bite one’s shiny metal ass are down 98%”
And the Old Man would bury us alive, too, if he thought that there was as much as a 53 percent probability that it was the Tree of Liberty he was nourishing.
Unable to attribute misfortune to chance, unable to accept their ultimate insignificance within the greater scheme, the people looked for monsters in their midst.
This was a monster out of legend. Enormous joints and hard fatless flesh, like someone skinned and rendered down; big ears, permanently cupped to detect the slightest footstep; huge nose for sniffing prey; complete lack of hair or teeth; a hide mottled in shades of brown, with dark-brown speckles, ideal grassland camouflage; and, for all its swollen, deformed head and freakish face, the casual precision and lack of waste motion of the perfect hunter.
Thousands and thousands of years of tiny changes could turn little burning sparks of chemistry into people, into monsters and angels and even human beings.
900 years of time and space and I’ve never met someone who wasn’t important.
Look, he’s just a nobody who doesn’t want to be a delivery boy. I’d really rather not force it on him.