Breya: I've pulled up a wormgate map and superimposed it on this map of the galactic plane. Superimposed upon that is a list of courier-class trade routes.
Kevyn: It's beautiful. Not your maps... The galactic plane. It's gorgeous. Timeless.
Reverend: Well, I wouldn't say timeless. In the grand scheme of things, the milky way is just an accretion disk for a big old black hole.
Breya: Aren't you supposed to be feeding us nice, uplifting messages, reverend?
Reverend: It's a call for faith. Pray that there is a god, my little flock, because only a god can stop the eventual, entropic destruction of the universe.
Schlock: When I wake up sweating over this, I'm going to drag you out of bed and force you to sing me back to sleep.