Registering each of us and climbing aboard would take minutes – three, maybe four. Optimistically, we had ninety seconds before the Fudō bots were on the ground, slicing away at everything that moved. I loaded a shell into my grenade launcher and saw Peyton crossing herself, slowly moving her hand from her forehead to her navel, then from one shoulder to the other. “Is this a good time to start praying?” McGarrity asked. “Feel free,” I shrugged. “It can’t hurt.” It couldn’t help either, but I chose to keep that sentiment to myself. People can believe whatever they want – Heaven, Hell, angels, gods – if it gives you a reason to get up in the morning or helps you sleep at night, then it’s energy well spent. But if someone wants to wax intellectual about a divine creator who is by all accounts infallible, I always had the same response: the universe’s one and only absolute is math. Which, coincidentally, was the only all-powerful force that could help us escape our current situation.
