“Computer, lock door,” Jenny snarled. The palm lock next to the door blinked blue while it processed the order and then faded to red. She sank into the captain’s chair. “We have to go get him.” Ophelia had reached the same conclusion as soon as she understood exactly what the reading meant. “I know.” Jenny scrubbed her face. “The whole point of Boone sending you home was to keep you out of trouble, and there is nothing but trouble when Sanctify is involved. Hells, trouble doesn’t begin to cover it. We’re looking at certain death.” Ophelia already knew. Papa had told her stories when he thought her mother wasn’t listening, stories about the things Sanctify did to their prisoners, to their victims. They believed anyone who didn’t follow the ways of Ba’al was impure, and the only way to rectify this was to bleed them clean. As if that made sense to anyone other than the crazies. So they would torture whatever poor bastard they had in their sights, bleed them almost dry, and then tie them to a stake and burn the last of the impurity from them.
