All crosses had their tops cut and became T's. There was also a thing called God.

Belief.” He snorted. “I could kiss a thousand crosses. Fucking belief.

If we could all love each and every person that crosses our path a little bit more, we could attain inner peace with the knowledge that many people on this planet would be hurting a whole lot less.

Make it your mission to encourage everyone who crosses your path.

We didn’t think anything of it at the time, but we saw several of the bodies of the crew, space pirates all, with what looked like necklaces of garlic around their necks. There was salt strewn on the floor in places, and it made a crunchy sound as we walked over it. Some had died clinging to crude wooden and metal crosses. Religious fanatics, I thought then – after all, isn’t it usually the worst sort of people who turn to religion when they suddenly see their end approaching and they fear some kind of reckoning coming their way?