Chapter Thirteen
Regi woke in medical, the monitors casting pink light across the room. He looked over and Dante was in the bed next to him, his eyes open and his long fingers curled around the top edge of the blanket. His eyes had returned to their normal blue, and the black had retreated to a dot in the center. No doubt that revealed something significant. After all, one’s eyes should not be as variable as skin color.
“Are you in pain?” Regi asked.
Dante startled. “You’re awake.”
“I am,” Regi said. He sat up, half expecting some agony to interrupt his movements. However, he felt as hale as ever. He had the odd twinge that had come with age, but not the debilitating effects of radiation. “How long was I sedated?”
Dante shrugged. “I’m not sure. As soon as the lid on that coffin closed, I was out.”
“It was a radiation containment unit, not a coffin.” Regi’s gut felt heavy at the description. It came too close to reality. “Has Bevti communicated?”
“She keeps coming in here, but there’s not much communication going on,” Dante said. He pulled his blanket higher, and Regi got the impression that he was trying to protect himself. He was such a contradiction—he could dispatch an enemy with a clean strike through the eye, yet he projected uncertainty on subjects as mundane as speaking to Bevti. The woman was the most agreeable member of the crew.
“Has she said anything?” Regi searched the corners of the room for his missing shoes, unsurprised to find nothing. Someone should have taken all their clothing and sent it to engineering for disposal, but the room was so contaminated, it did not matter.
“Every time she comes in, she’s more surprised by our condition,” Dante said. “I’m pretty sure she’s offended that we’re not dying yet.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Bevti was more kind than Cota or Ter; she would not look for them to hurry through the dying part of their life journey just to avoid making others uncomfortable.
“I’m sure it is,” Dante said.
Regi would have continued to defend Bevti’s honor—after all, he had worked with her for almost two years. However, the doctor in question opened the door and stepped in, her simple medical apron covering her regulation uniform. No radiation suit—not even a face shield.
“You shouldn't be in here without protective gear!” Regi stepped back to leave as much space as possible between them. He had come to terms with his own death, but he would protect as much of the crew as possible. The alternative was too horrific to consider.
“If there were danger from radiation, I would have on protective gear. However, there is no radiation in the room.” Bevti said the words in the same tone another might use for profanity. “Why didn't you tell me that your people are immune to radiation poisoning? That seems like the sort of information that should be in the medical database.”
Regi would have demanded that Bevit explain herself in terms that made more sense than her current rambling, but she continued before he could speak. “I respect that your species believes in secrecy as a religious tenet, but maybe you would like to embrace science with equal fervor.”
That sounded like an insult. “My people are not immune to radiation.”
“Then you are a standing miracle.” Bevti cornered Regi and poked two sharp thumbs into his chest.
“Then I am a miracle,” Regi said. The miraculous involvement of the gods was the best explanation. He looked at Dante. “And is he healthy as well?”
“Yes.”
