And so it was that I studied with the world's greatest detective for five years, until he finally died of old age. To his disgust, I never got rid of the accent in his lifetime. It took another ten years of walking across the world to do that. But I never lost my love of the secrets. And I don't think I ever will.
Don't you dare come looking for me. I mean, don't even think about it. But do NOT let these bastards win. These are orders. Goodbye.
They launch a moonshot with all the available technology at their disposal. Iron and explosives. But they've no way to contact the capsule. All they can do is wait for it to come back. Days. Weeks. Some of them drift away. Months. More leave. Years pass. And they remain silent. The launch site stands empty. And I bet you that every night, every single one of them looked up at the moon and wondered. Strange world. And it's always going to be that way.
Poor bastard (Jim Wilder) has his body crammed with alien material and agrees to spend his life convincing six other people to do the same so's a lost spaceship can get home -- and she just wanted to play tourist in the same place he gave up being human. Don't know what's the bigger threat to my life and sanity; the planet or Planetary.
In the last few months, I've seen a computer built in 1944 that could map the Multiverse, and something that stored ghosts as information, and I've walked the decks of a ship designed to sail between realities... and these are lost things, that could be salvaged or retrieved... and now I see these wonders, you utter scumbag, shiny-new and hidden away in a place paid for by God knows what atrocity...