Fury made Regi fever-hot. “Do not refer to him as such a word.” Dante had the strength to follow Regi, to support him even when he would have better preserved himself by fleeing. He was honorable and interesting, and he deserved better than such an insulting designation.
Cota unknotted his fingers. “I intend no offense. I only refer to him as the last occupation he engaged in because I do not know what his proper title is.”
Regi had not directly asked, but Dante had made a reference to a creature similar to a pebafri which he had ridden and a companion dog. “He was a tender of animals,” Regi said. While that might not have been technically correct, it was also not a lie.
“Why do you need the tender in here?” Cota asked.
“Because he is the other who was touched by the gods. You are right that the Empire would open fire on a Coalition ship, but if the gods have touched this vessel, the Kowri would no longer consider it Coalition.”
Cota grunted. “I think the Coalition would disagree.”
“Considering that the actual Coalition ship is currently falling into a black hole, and we are in a pirate ship, would the disagreement be worth having?”
Cota's pupils narrowed to slits. Ignoring the captain’s ire, Regi went to the door. When he opened it, every gaze turned toward him. Regi had served with many of the crew for years, yet he saw suspicion in their eyes. “Dante, can you join me?”
Dante burst out of his seat and covered the short distance to the door in surprisingly short time. Regi stepped back to allow him inside and then closed the door behind him.
“What's going on?” The room was so small that Dante put his back to the captain and had almost no space to turn. Only one person should have been in the space at a time, and with three, it inspired claustrophobia.
“We must convince my people not to destroy the ship and leave our dead bodies floating in space,” Regi explained.
Dante blew out a breath. “You don't believe in sugarcoating it, do you?”
The change in topic confused Regi. “Is that a request for sweet foods?”
Dante chuckled. “No. It's a comment that your words are not very sweet.”
“Sweet words don't match the Empire,” Cota said. “They don't care if it is a science vessel, a war ship, or a half-grown daredevil flying a private ship—the Empire destroys them all the minute they cross Empire boundaries.”
Regi hated that his people were being characterized as such monsters, but he did not want to get into a debate at this precise moment. He considered offering an apology for his people’s failings, but before he could, Dante rested a warm hand on Regi’s arm. “You can’t pick family,” he whispered. The words confused Regi.
“If my people believe that the goddess has guided our steps, they will escort us to the temple where one who is more experienced with the cold season gods can help us understand Poque’s purpose.” Regi had always avoided the exalteds before. They were, as a whole, individuals who valued the gods above all, and as the only son of a mother who chose her god over her son, Regi carried resentments. Being rejected by the exalteds of Gavd had not improved his attitude. However, if he were god-touched, he needed guidance. And if this were, as he suspected, more than the ephemeral interest of a dangerous goddess, Regi had no idea what to do other than ask for help from the temple.
“Given that your goddess led you to rescue me, I would be in favor of that.” Dante leaned back against the captain’s desk. Meanwhile, Cota looked as if something large had just defecated on his boot. Regi considered asking the captain to step out of the video shot, but his people were already well aware that the Coalition had no respect for the gods. Pretending otherwise would not convince this Kowri captain to trust them. He had to hope that the captain’s diplomatic training would prevent him from speaking disrespectfully.
“Open communication,” Regi requested. The captain ran one of his thumbs along a control pad and the screen came to life. Static illuminated the screen, but Regi had expected as much. He stood in front of the camera and spoke with all the confidence he could muster. After all, he had grown used to feigning confidence. Living among people who saw him as alternatively dangerous or naïve—and sometimes both—had given him a rare ability to project that which he did not feel.
“I am Regi a’Poque de Minait a’Otutha qee Pertin e Rel. I seek the cold weather temple because I believe Poque has blessed me beyond my resources.” The formal words would demand a different response than the one the captain had likely prepared. For long minutes, the screen remained full of static and the speakers silent.
Dante shifted closer, and Regi rested his hand against that nearly hairless arm. “Does communication always take this long?” Dante did not move away or attempt to extract his arm from Regi's touch, so Regi shamelessly indulged in feeling the soft, warm skin beneath his fingertips. He slowly traced circles. The contact offered a comfort Regi had not felt for many years. After all, few species wanted to get too close to a Kowri, not when his people had such a reputation for violence.
“The signal must travel, but both ships have signal accelerators, so it should take only fifteen to thirty seconds for the communication to travel between us,” Regi answered.
Cota opened his mouth, no doubt to point out that the camera was still recording. Regi signaled for him to wait. Even a Kowri would be hesitant to destroy an individual whose species was too young to understand even simple technology.
“Is it a good or a bad sign that they are not reacting?” Dante asked.
“They haven’t fired on us, so that’s unexpectedly good,” Cota said dryly.
Dante reclaimed his arm and angled his body toward Regi. “Do your people normally fire on helpless ships?” He crossed his arms over his chest. The movement was so similar to how Cota would tangle his fingers into knots that Regi suspected that it meant aggression.
“The Coalition has always been jealous of the Empire’s superior technology. They have been known to steal Empire secrets to avoid the tedium of doing their own research.
Dante looked over his shoulder towards Cota. “So your people are thieves?” The tone left little doubt about Dante's disgust. Some species considered it natural to take from others, but apparently huumans were not counted among those.
“We've never stolen,” Cota said.
The hairs on Dante's brow rose higher. “You can't lie for shit.”
