Sam squatted beside the grotesque head and held it erect, rotating it slowly so that every surviving member of the Dione Dozen got a frontal view. The thing was heavy, and he felt the dense inflexibility of a malformed skull beneath the spongy elasticity of its scalp. Just what had they gotten themselves into, these reluctant warriors, here on this endless ship, filled with the most hideous creatures imaginable … and headed to Earth? Just what horrors had they yet to discover? “Lord Sweet Lamb Jesus, save us!” blubbered Sister Aimee, when she suddenly grasped what Sam was trying to show them. “We have rocket shipped ourselves straight into Hell!”
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