"Our plane is technically science fantasy but the Valar will make magic stop working if they're worried and mad."

"I feel like I'm getting an extremely spotty picture of the other 'planes'."

"Sorry. I've got a lot of books and crystal balls full of notes from both, you can pick up whatever you want to know about them, but it's hard to know where to start!"

"And she doesn't speak Pax or Quenya," Fëanáro says. "We can translate for you, though."

"I mean, you can probably program a computer to autotranslate to readable quality, if you can get the text in digital form and give it enough of a corpus and starting correspondences to chew on the languages for a while, but I have no idea of the compatibility issues with crystal balls..."

"The computer is the science ethernet? We haven't figured out how to make it talk to crystal balls yet but I'm sure it can be done."

"Computers are the thing via which you access what I suspect is the thing you're calling the science ethernet."

"I haven't learned how they work yet," he says, frowning. "We were trying to get interplanar messaging. Speaking of which, is this a good planet to dump everyone in Materia?"

"...You should really ask the Davlians first. I suggested this planet because they seemed nice and didn't join the Federation and might be glad that I gave them warp anyway."

"This plane probably has some unoccupied planets too, we could put them there."

"Sure, plenty. If you want to go steal my ship out of impound we could all cram into it and go looking for one that isn't claimed, it's designed for survey."

"Tomorrow," Fëanáro says, "when I have mana, we shall steal a starship."

"It's called the Prometheus but I don't know where they're keeping it."

"Prometheus," he says. "That's not English. What language is it? What does it mean?"

"...Greek. It means 'forethought', but I named the ship that because there's a mythological figure called Prometheus who was said to have stolen fire from equally mythological gods and granted it to humans. And then the gods were irritated with him and chained him to a rock and had his liver eaten once daily by a bird, which is a lot worse than Federation political prison."

"Where's he? Rúmil, you still have mana for two teleports, right?"

"Mythological," says T'Mir. "He did not exist, it's a story, it is not necessary to go rescue chained-up Titans."

"It's sort of like what Manwë did to Bella, if Manwë were more gruesome and less callous."

"Less callous?"

"...no, you know what, I think getting sent to Materia is actually a clear win over being chained to a rock and having my liver eaten every day, Materia might well have killed me but I'd have had decent odds of it being quick and instead all that happened was I got my degree and my license and saw some patients."

"Still," he says. "It wouldn't have taken me six years to rescue you from a rock."

"This is true but however long it took you I would probably have gotten my liver eaten and that just sounds irretrievably unpleasant."

"I am pretty sure the Valar would have had a war on their hands," Rúmil says.

"- they couldn't possibly have known if I was dead or alive, under the circumstances, whether it was me or Manwë who was right about whether I'd die, and that didn't do it."

"They trusted Manwë was right, he swore to it, you were well and happy and back in a mortal university. If he were torturing you - Melkor did that -"