Narrator: The Milky-Way galaxy is mind-bogglingly big.
Tagon: So, Colonel... Where are we going?
Narrator: "Eh," you say, "100,000 light years in diameter, give or take a few."
Narrator: Listen, pal: just because you can measure something in light years doesn't mean you truly understand how big it really is.
Jevee Ceeta: We're going to find admiral Breya, per our orders from the General.
Tagon: You do realize that she could be anywhere, right?
Narrator: By the time you carve our galaxy up into units you have actual, personal experience with, you'll have to start using numbers that you won't live long enough to count to.
Narrator: That's okay. The galaxy doesn't care. In fact, not caring is one of the things it does best.
Jevee Ceeta: I'm well aware of that, Captain. I know that her trail is ice-cold, too.
Tagon: Will you stop with the coy, already? If we're going to find a needle in a haystack we have to start somewhere.
Narrator: That, and being really, really, really big.
Jevee Ceeta: I like the haystack metaphor, Captain. Do you know how to find a needle in a haystack?
Narrator: Bigger than that, even.
Tagon: Yeah. Don't do your sewing in the hay.
Jevee Ceeta: Oh, come on, Tagon. You're smarter than that.
Jevee Ceeta: Use a magnet. Make the needle come to you. You've worked for her before. Her brother still works for you. It's only a matter of time.
Kevyn: Breya just mailed me. She wants to hire us.
Jevee Ceeta: See?
Narrator: So big that coincidence becomes likelihood. It boggles the mind, so don't think too long on it.