"This is impossible," Phelps mumbled inaudibly, pressing himself against the wall opposite the window.
The woman floating outside the window nodded, her arms crossed over her chest. "It is." Her voice was in no way muffled by the thick transparent barrier between them.
"How are you-"
"When you arrive in New Sidon, go directly to St. Luke's Temple. There you will meet Deacon Mariah. She will give you your instructions."
Phelps gawked at her, mind racing.
Then, she smiled. "Farewell, prophet."
"All passengers, please secure yourselves for landing. We will reach the outer atmosphere shortly. Arrival in New Tyre will be 7:00 am, local time."
Phelps looked up involuntarily at the intercom announcement, then looked back to the window to see nothing but stars.