Konklin studied the bookshelf that Bruno Jereti had erected.
"Here they are," he said. "The Dispossessed. Mathematics of Madness. The Unicorn. Flame Disc." He dragged down a bulky binder. "His books, all his unpublished notes, his records; drawings he made of his vision, his computations, instructions, analysis, poetry, his philosophy—everything." He turned to the expectant people, "What'll it be tonight?"
"Flame Disc," Janet Sibley said quickly. "It's so inspiring."
Konklin slid the well-worn copy down and flipped it open, sat on a heap of bedding, and glanced around.
"Go ahead," Mary Uzich said eagerly. "We need something to buck us up."
In a throbbing baritone, Konklin read aloud from the concluding section of John Preston's last book.
"In the far reaches of space He has placed another world, an untouched Disc, a Second Earth, hidden and concealed from prying eyes. There He has put it, safe in dusky reaches, the terrifying dead regions, where the coward-folk dare not venture. He knew that gibbering vampires, their own guilt, would pluck at them, would torment them in their shoddy tin ships, until they maddened and died—and returned empty-handed..."
"That part," Groves interrupted ponderously, "refers to Herman R. Ewing, the navigator on the 'eighty-nine expedition. He went insane from space fear. He claimed that the ship was being pursued by fabulous space monsters."
Konklin read on, carried away by the fervour of the dead founder of the Society.
"This Disc, this glowing orb, for all eyes yet somehow hidden, was sent to swim in the sea of meteor dust and galactic wastes throughout the ages. Until at last a brave crowd, would venture forth. Giants, with the courage of giants... ."
Chapter IV