Crichton, Rigel and Chianna were in the gigantic, celestial-temple type room that housed Moya's Mind. White light that didn't leave shadows illuminated the area. And the engineering didn't even begin to make sense to Crichton's mind. He would love to spend a few decades trying to work how you got an intelligent starship from...that...
¨There's nothing in here of value, Crichton", Rigel sighed. ¨Let´s go see what´s next."
"I think Moya might be offended at that," Crichton mused, "I wonder if she can hear us in here?"
"I wonder if Moya dreams," Chianna wondered out loud.
Crichton looked at Chianna and smiled, "I'm sure she does, Pip. Question is... what does a centuries old sentient starship dream? Probably not electric sheep..."
Rigel and Chianna looked at Crichton questioningly.
"Never mind," he said. He looked at his notes, comparing them to his burgeoning map, and made another look around the room.
"This room looks bigger than my figures say it should be. Just an illusion, or is Moya part TARDIS?"
He scribbled some more notes, waving off the inevitable "What's a TARDIS?" question. He then flipped his pad over, and began to scrawl. The odd light of Moya's core reflecting off the dancing of the pen caught Rygel's eye. He drifted closer. Crichton saw the Hynerian ex-king coming, and looked at him sternly.
"FLUFFY..." he growled, then noted Chianna was standing next to him, her head cocked in the attitude when something has her attention, her dark eyes wide.
"What's up, Pip?"
Chianna slowly pointed at the paper in his hand, then at the air in front of Crichton.
An image of what he was drawing was taking shape in three dimensions, hanging in the air of the room containing Moya's mind...