“We should head back,” Hask urged, as the sickly yellow lights flickered around them. “The cultists are dead.”
“Do the dead frighten you, Corporal?” the Lieutenant replied in a gruff voice, the hint of a mocking smile creasing his lips.
Hask did not rise to the bait. He was an old man by Navy standards, past forty, and he had seen plenty of officers come and go. “Dead is dead,” he said. “We have no more business with them.”