Again with the references to orifices. “I do not know this section of the ship, and communication is unlikely to work well because of the shielding. I say we clear as much of the area as we can before the security staff is able to retrieve radiation suits and follow.” At the very least, Regi could improve his people's chance of success by making sure the alien did not ambush them as they entered.
“Sounds like a plan. How long do we have before we’re both blind and throwing up on the floor from the radiation?”
That was exceptionally blunt. Regi would have preferred to cling to illusion a little longer. “I do not know for your people, but my people would not be able to function more than sixty to ninety minutes at radiation of this level.”
Dante nodded. “Then we have some time to make sure this bastard dies before we do.” He tightened his hand around the anelace and held its sharp point upward, and his expression showed his teeth. The sharp edges did suggest that Dante's people were predators, and predators typically did know how to hunt. “Where to?”
Any direction was as good as any other in this maze. Regi would worry about remembering the position of the exit, but he feared it did not matter. “Pick a direction,” he offered.
“It seems like you're the one that has the goddess whispering in his ear. You pick the direction, and I'll watch your six.”
Regi felt a warm rush of emotion at the idea that Dante would put so much faith not only in Regi but in Regi's goddess. Sometimes individuals would ask Regi about his religion, but it was always couched in terms that made Regi think they were amused by his ignorance or shocked at the primitive beliefs of such an advanced society. None of them considered that Regi's people enjoyed the success they did because of the gods, rather than despite them. However, his appreciation did not make Dante’s words any less confusing.
“My six what?” Regi asked.
Dante laughed. “It's a saying that means I'll be here to make sure no one shoots you in the back. I might not have a gun, but I can shout out a warning. And if we get close to the bastard, you better believe I know how to use this.” He lifted the weapon.
“Acceptable,” Regi said. Picking a direction at random, he headed farther into the engineering section. The engines hummed and thumped even though the ship was not moving. No doubt the effort to maintain the anti-gravity field and hold position on the edge of the black hole required significant fuel.
Dante took shelter behind a particle accelerator housing, and Regi prayed that the builders of this ship had invested in quality materials. If stray weapon fire damaged these sensitive parts, Ter might not be able to repair it. In this circumstance, that could lead the ship being torn to pieces when the anti-gravity engines failed. Regi wondered if he would be better off wielding the anelace, but that was not a weapon he’d trained with for combat, and killing a Styl with a bladed weapon would require a precise strike at either the eyes or chest. He just had to place his shots and make sure he did not damage vulnerable mechanics. He could not control whether the Styl would be equally considerate.
Regi moved forward, sliding through the shadows and keeping close to the cover provided by mechanics. Behind him, Dante moved with stealth and grace. Watching him, Regi wondered what tasks he had performed on his home planet. This was not a simple worker. He stalked his prey like one of the devotees of Gavd. Those Kowri trained for battle their whole lives. They defended the borders of the Empire and hunted down those Kowri who fell to greed or violence.
Perhaps that was what Dante had been. He had said that spaceships were the purview of corporations and governments, but he had never denied being on one himself. Perhaps the pirates had taken him from some poorly shielded ship owned by a government or corporation that did not understand the risks inherent in traveling the universe. If his people had only two planets, they might not know the danger posed when a ship lost communication with one base without yet reaching the next. Communication networks had to be maintained or ships were vulnerable to a hundred dangers. Space was inimical to life.
Movement caught Regi's eye and he crouched. With his free hand, he tapped the decking twice, more out of instinct than any expectation that Dante would follow the tacit command. However, Dante crouched lower and brought Regi's anelace forward. Regi eased to the edge of a giant pipe. He could see a massive shoulder covered in black. The size did suggest Styl, although Regi had never doubted Dante’s identification.
Regi was not sure how to handle the situation with a vulnerable huuman in the field of action. He had the strong feeling that if he told Dante to stay behind, he would ignore Regi utterly. Regi did not know the religion of Texas, but he was beginning to get a sense of the shape and size of it, and he had the feeling that Texas must be a cold weather god. Those followers were the most obstinate, and Regi included himself in that accounting.
“I see him,” Regi whispered, “but there is a long stretch without any cover between us and the place where he stands. You do not have a weapon capable of providing assistance, so you should retreat to a reasonable distance.”
“We agree on one thing,” Dante said. “My weapon is no good at providing cover, so I figure that leaves me the one best situated to play bait.”
“Bait?” The translator provided an image of a small fish that did not seem applicable to the situation. More interestingly, Regi did not know why the translator provided the image when animal names did not translate. Huumans must have had a unique brain structure to generate such anomalies with the translator function.
“Distraction might be a better word.”
Before Regi's translator provided the necessary words, Dante was racing off in the opposite direction. Regi was horrified at the idea of Dante drawing enemy fire in order to give Regi a better chance of targeting the alien, but he could not call out without revealing both their locations. Dante was the single most annoying creature in the universe. Given that his mother had claimed Regi held that position, Regi wished he would have been given the opportunity to show his mother the true face of stubbornness.
“Hey fuck face,” Dante said as he stood from behind a shielded fuel reservoir. The Styl retreated, so Regi lost his target.
“I already saw you, you slimy piece of pus-covered shit.”
Dante’s language was enough to corrupt Ter. After a second a shoulder appeared and then a weaponed arm and a booted foot. Finally, the pirate stepped out from cover. Regi lined up to take a shot, but the bone-armored head and shoulder made poor targets. He needed the Styl to turn.
“Stupid slave,” the Styl rumbled in a rough voice.
Dante raised his weapon. “Come over here and say that to me when you're within reach.”
“Stupid slave. Stupid weapon,” the Styl said.
Regi had to admit the pirate had a point. If Dante had come in here with nothing more than the sword, this would be a very one-sided fight. Regi waited, hoping that the pirate would expose his vulnerable midsection. The internal bone armor covered major organs, but they had a stripe down the front where the gap between two plates left them vulnerable.
Styls had a similar vulnerability in their back, but they wore tactical armor to protect it. They left their chest exposed, as if telling the entire universe they didn't believe anyone was good enough to challenge them.
“You're going to die,” Dante said in a warbling tone that resembled a song.
“You are dying now. You will die leaking bodily fluids.”
