Bevti laughed, her low grunts soothing the ache of fear in Regi’s soul. “Your people are both wise and powerful,” she said.
“They are doubly blessed,” Regi answered. The response was proper, although Bevti would not understand the true meaning. “I should be seen so that anyone who feels the need to start a disturbance remembers that I am still on duty. If I have to spend my last hours chasing down drunken crew, the crew members in question will regret their lack of discretion.” Regi stood and gestured toward each of his fellow officers before he left.
He wanted to flee, to run as if Divashi the Poisoner had appeared with her headdress of deadly quills to exalt him above all others. The thought made him wonder if he had lost his mind at some point and if everyone was too polite or too busy to tell him.
Regi dodged the queries of the small crew. If ships could fuel engines with rumor, they would never need to dock. He ducked around corners and avoided a germ-phobic maintenance worker by pretending to sneeze all over him. While unkind, it was effective, allowing Regi to retreat to his small office.
Unlike most officers who could focus on one problem at a time, Regi’s job required him to monitor sixty-three crew members and investigate crimes. Three walls of his office had enormous displays. When they were all turned on, it had the unfortunate effect of making a small space feel infinitely smaller. Ignoring his obligation to monitor the crew, Regi activated the display in the center of the back wall and then curled in his chair as he stared at the data.
Staring at scientific data felt like an exercise in masochism; however, Regi’s parents had raised him to believe that one never gave up. A solution was always possible, although not always desirable. Regi had certainly proved that when he had chosen to leave the Empire. His fingers brushed across the display, dismissing some numbers while reviewing others. He magnified one corner of the event horizon and then another.
The movements were hypnotic, almost meditative. As Regi lost himself in numbers that gave the exact details of his impending death, he found he could consider the possibility with more calm. At least he didn’t have to carry any guilt into the next world—there was literally nothing Regi had done to contribute to this gods-touched mess.
A flicker caught Regi’s attention. A number had blinked. Constants should not change. Could not. Only this one appeared to have broken that universal law. Regi dismissed all other data and opened every possible report on the sector where the numbers had faltered.
Propping his chin on his hand, he waited. When he had grown certain that his eyes needed to be checked for parasites, the numbers changed again.
Something was moving just outside the event horizon of the black hole threatening to crush them. Or more to the point, something was not moving when it should have been. Light and particles slid past a hull that was not visible to the naked eye.
Nothing could sit that close to a black hole without burning the engines at full power to escape. But no energy outputs lit up a ship. Regi tapped a request for communication with the captain and Wayi. After a pause, he added Ter to the list. If he was wrong and he interrupted Ter for no good cause, the engineer was going to murder him long before the black hole could.
And no one else on board was certified to investigate the crime.
“Report.” Cota said.
“I believe a ship on the outer edge of the black hole is using a gravitational field distorter,” Regi said. The name was inaccurate since the technology actually used multiple dimension half-shifting that was as illegal as eating one’s own mother.
Cota took several seconds to answer. “I appreciate your desire to enforce the law, but I don’t think we’re in a position to arrest anyone.”
Ter spoke before Regi could. “You inbred offspring of half-sapient parasites. If a ship has a GFD, their hull will deflect the gravitational pull, and if we get too close, our ship will stick to theirs, meaning our hull will deflect it. Steer the ship toward that reading or I will remove an organ of your choice from an orifice of mine.” The line beeped as Ter disconnected. Silence filled the line, and Regi winced at the idea of the captain filling out an official complaint. Even Cota’s diplomacy wouldn’t extend to forgiving that sort of outburst.
“He’s under stress,” Regi said in an approximation of an apology. The pressure had sharpened Ter’s tongue until it was as friendly as a dop—all poisonous spines and hisses. Normally he was... he was as friendly as a sleepy dop—just as many poisonous spines but much less interest in shaking them.
Cota disconnected.
“Oh dear,” Wayi whispered, and then she disconnected with a beep.
Regi took a deep breath. He could only pray that this was the gods’ second blessing and not more of the first. If they had any more of the first, Regi was going to space himself to avoid any more attention from them.
