CHIP WARREN WAS NOT a religious man. He lived by a simple code: do good and keep your sidearms primed. But now there faced him the inevitable finality of death; he felt an urge to meet that last, great mystery in comfort. He turned to his friends gravely.
“Now,” he said, “it is our turn. So I guess this is goodbye, Syd. And Padre—it might help if you could say a few words for us ... just something....”
“So be it, my son!” said Salvation, understandingly. He lifted his head; his fine old eyes sought the murky gray skies of Titania, so different from the sweet blue Earthly skies for which all space-farers’ hearts yearned when their journey’s end was reached.
“If this be the way,” he said quietly, “thy servants must depart, then so be it, O Lord. Yet even now in extremis we do not forget T
