Dante sat up in bed, the sheet pooling over his thighs. “I’m not dying? Do you mean my skin isn’t going to fall off in the next few hours or have I actually escaped any future need for chemotherapy as cancer riddles my cells?”
Bevti turned toward him, her expression sympathetic now that she wasn’t facing off against Regi. “I don’t understand the concept of chemotherapy, but I can assure you that your body is unaffected by the radiation.”
Dante curled his hands around the sheet and closed his eyes. Regi understood because he was also suffering an excess of emotion. He had expected to die and now the universe had rearranged itself into a new form—one Regi had not anticipated.
But perhaps he should have. The gods were too large to manipulate the lives of their devotees directly, but they could affect energy. Va, god of radiation, and Furi, the goddess of light, both shielded their favorites. Some held that those who had first worked to split the atom could hold the raw materials in their bare hands and Va protected them. Stories also said that many a brilliant scientist who had believed himself a favorite died in horrible pain after putting too much faith in a god instead of protective gear. Kowri were small and the gods could not watch their every move. But maybe Poque had been watching today, and maybe she had decided to shield them. Few Kowri followed her anymore, so she did not have thousands of prayers to distract her.
“Are your people normally immune to radiation?” Bevti asked.
Dante shook his head. “Oh hell, no.” His expression turned haunted, and Regi thought of the huuman who had essentially chosen death by opening that door.
“That suggests technology,” a new voice said.
Dante turned toward the door, and Ter stood there, his inner thumbs hooked over his utility belt as he glared at Regi, and the wrinkle between his eyes was deep enough to plant seedlings in. “Even if they were both immune, that would not protect their clothing,” he said in a scathing tone. Bevti winced, but before she could defend herself, Ter continued. “What shielding technology do you possess and what are the limitations?” Ter pinned Regi with a pointed look, as if expecting him to announce he had some secret Empire technology on him.
“I have no technology. Do I have to remind you that the Empire sent me into Coalition space with only my clothing? They even recalled the Empire shuttle that carried me. They’re certainly not going to allow me to keep protective equipment.”
“Then explain how your clothing isn’t radioactive. Not even a Styl’s constitution will protect their clothing from absorbing radiation.” Ter took a step closer, his movements jerky and angry. Regi had never seen the engineer so furious.
Regi was uninterested in placating Ter. “I have no explanation other than the one you will not like even though it is most likely true.”
Dante pushed his sheet to one side as he slid his legs off the edge of his cot. “You think your gods protected us.”
“Yes.” Regi didn’t explain further because his own temper was frayed enough that he did not want to watch the pitying expressions on Ter’s and Bevti’s faces as they pretended to humor his religious beliefs.
“Religious superstition.” Ter wrinkled his nose so the furrow in his face grew even deeper.
“Truth,” Regi said, “even if it comes in a form that you find personally unpalatable.” Regi stepped closer, expecting Ter to back away. Instead he stood his ground and now they were chest-to-chest, and Regi had to look up. It gave him an unpleasant view up Ter’s broad nose.
“Gods are not unpalatable. They’re imaginary.” Ter’s nostrils flared.
Regi clenched his fists. He was emotionally battered, and he wanted to tell Ter exactly what he thought of the narrow-minded assumptions Coalition people made. However, Dante started laughing before Regi could do irreparable harm to his career and his professional relationship with Ter.
“Maybe Regi’s gods are just a little tougher than yours. Maybe they hung around when yours abandoned you,” Dante suggested.
Regi had no idea if Dante meant his words seriously, but he appreciated the support.
Ter whirled toward Dante so quickly that he knocked Regi off-balance. Regi had to grab the edge of the medical cot to avoid falling to the floor.
“Then get Regi’s gods to fix the damaged seal in the engineering access area. Get them to shield the crew from the toxic corruption that will slowly kill the rest of us until only the two of you are left in a floating ghost ship. With no one to run the engines, you should float toward the nearest communication relay where you can signal for help in about... oh... three years.” Ter’s hands were curled into claws.
Regi should have been terrified. Even if his goddess could’ve protected him, no two individuals could run a ship. They would die before reaching help. However, for the first time, Regi suspected he could see the path in front of him—the one Poque was pushing him toward. This time Regi intended to move on the path without encouragement. His ribs still hurt from Poque’s last attempt to help him.
“We should head for Empire space.”
Both Bevti and Ter stared at him as if a god had just erupted from his forehead.
“That would be a faster form of suicide,” Ter said. “Kowri hate outsiders.”
“Yes, but we love our gods,” Regi said. “And since a god has taken an interest in me, I have the right to offer the protection of the temple.” That was an oversimplification. Once again, Regi thought of the arrogant scientists who handled fusible materials, sure Va would protect them. If Regi had made a mistake about Poque’s involvement, a simple scan would show that no god had touched him, and then the Kowri Empire might destroy the ship with everyone on it.
Dante would die.
But if they didn’t reach out for help, that would happen anyway. Regi needed to trust his goddess. It was time to go home to the temple.
