Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

it was hidden in the small print. We fight and sometimes die, so that the Empire might live. It all comes down to faith. Some of us believe there’s a better place, waiting for us.”
    “And some of us need our heads examined,” growled his second-in-command, Avi Habib. “Go ahead. Hang about and make faces at the Terror. See what good it does anyone. God, it’s lonely being the voice of reason on this ship.”
    Habib had been Randolph’s second and partner for most of their long lives. Dark-skinned, bald, and blocky, the second was always there at his captain’s side, ready to stand between him and all danger. Inseparable and unbeatable, their accomplishments were the stuff of legend. Which was quite probably why Finn had made sure they were given the opportunity to volunteer for this mission.
    Randolph growled at his second. “Quiet, you unbeliever. You should have embraced the Church Militant, like I did. Gives you a marvelous sense of certainty.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with my faith, thank you very much, and I don’t need it upgraded by a bunch of loud-mouths with no dress sense. And the only certainty on this miserable mission is that we’re all going to die horrible deaths. Try brandishing a crucifix at the Terror, and see how far it gets you. You’ll be calling for an exorcist next.”
    “You didn’t even read those pamphlets I gave you, did you?”
    “Oh, aye, I read them all right. Packed full of useful information, they were. Like, blessed are the meek, because they don’t expect to get much out of life anyway. And, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away, and sometimes he adds on interest just to make sure you’re paying attention. The Church Militant . . . bunch of bloody zealots. Not a handful of brain cells between them. You wait, the good Lord’ll come back down among us, and he is going to be sorely pissed. And I’ll lay you odds that the Church Militant will be first in line for a good kicking.”
    Randolph had to laugh. “It’s a good job for you there isn’t an Inquisition.”
    “Oh, I’ve no doubt Finn’ll get around to it,” growled Habib.
    “It’s not too late for you to leave,” Randolph said quietly. “There’s still time for you to transfer to the Heritage , if you want.”
    “And leave you on your own? You’d be lost without me, and you know it. And anyway, this mission matters. Even I know that. It’s the only way to get new information on the Terror.”
    “You don’t have to die, to carry out your mission,” said Vardalos.
    “Yes we do,” said Randolph. “We have to get in close, and keep transmitting to the last possible moment. The Hook ’s been outfitted with the strongest sensors we’ve ever had. I’m going to steer this ship right down the Terror’s throat, and transmit data back every foot of the way. There’s only a skeleton crew on board, and each and every one of us knew exactly what we were volunteering for.”
    “Skeleton crew,” sniffed Habib. “Bloody apt term, that.”
    “Have faith, Second.”
    “Oh, I do. I am entirely convinced the Terror will chew us up and spit us out without even noticing we’re there. This is the bloody Terror we’re talking about! Devourer of galaxies and civilizations! Am I the only sane voice around here?”
    “Ignore him,” Randolph said to Vardalos. “I think he’s been cutting back on his medication again. Don’t worry about us; we’ll get the job done. Our faith will sustain us. Even a nasty old heretic like Avi.”
    “Even in the face of the Terror?” said Vardalos.
    “Of course,” said Randolph. “We know what it is, really. It is the enemy. The old Beast, from Revelation. When is faith more necessary than when going face-to-face with the enemy?”
    “I was given the chance to volunteer for your mission,” said Vardalos. “I didn’t.”
    “I should hope not,” said Randolph. “You’re young. Still got most of your life ahead of you. This is a mission for those . . . with little left to lose. I’m just glad I’m going out doing something that matters.”
    “There is that,” said Habib. “We’d have hated being retired.”
    “The Lord sends us out, and He calls us all home.”
    “Aye, well, he’d better have a bloody cup of tea waiting.”
    “Be quiet, you heathen,” Randolph said kindly. He looked searchingly at Vardalos. “I take it you have heard the latest rumors? That a whole fleet’s gone rogue at Haden?”
    “Yes,” said Vardalos. “They say . . .