Dante had lost his grip in the scuffle, but now he rushed forward, chasing Ter into the darkened interior. Animal carvings like in the temples ran along the top and bottom of the immense hallway, but everything was silver and polished and shining. He’d seen multiple pebafri wander in and out of the ship, but there was no sign of animals—only long, bright corridors with elaborately carved trim.
Dante would have stopped to admire it, but Bekdi was pulling Ter deeper into the ship and away from possible rescue. “This is unacceptable. We will go to the temple to debate how to handle this situation.” Dante pushed Kowri aside to reach Ter’s side. The hatch closed with an ominousthunk, and the floor started to vibrate. Crap, crap, steaming piles of wet pebafri crap, which was smellier than the horse version.
Dante focused on his goal, but Kowri blocked him. Dante jabbed at someone’s back where a human would have kidneys,and the Kowri grunted but didn’t move aside. The main corridor had room for all of them. Heck, a small herd of pebafri wouldn’t have felt crowded. A half dozen freio would have fit, not that Dante thought anyone would invite saber-tooth tiger-bears into their ships. However, the Gavd followers were skilled in blocking, and navigating became more difficult when Bekdi led them through a gold-etched arch into a narrow corridor lacking any of the decorative trim. The hallway wouldn’t have been out of place in a human ship.
The tight quarters meant Bekdi’s people pushed closer together, and Dante had no way around them.
“Let me through. I am an exalted,” Dante yelled. It didn’t impress anyone, but he did wedge his way in front of another guard, bringing him a few feet closer to Ter. Dante would tattle to Nawr the second he had a chance. That old man knew how to inspire guilt, even in a cold-hearted bastard like Bekdi.
“You boneless member from a non-vertebrate reproductive system,” Ter snapped. Dante winced. Insults would not convince Bekdi and his crew to respect Ter as an adult.
“You will learn manners,” a Kowri said.
“Ter, shut the fuck up,” Dante shouted over the commotion.
The rumbling under their feet grew more pronounced, and a low throbbing tone echoed through the corridors. A towering da-male showed his teeth, and Peaches slapped her tail into the air, launching a few quills. The guard dropped to the ground to avoid the venomous barbs.
“Good reflexes, butt-face.” Dante darted through the opening left by the guard’s absence and reached Ter who was being dragged down the corridor by Bekdi himself. The larger da-males were supposed to be the calmer gender—the peacemakers. And gender stereotypes were as accurate on Kowri worlds as on human ones.
Ter was ranting, but Dante only caught the last part of a stream of insults. “Your worth is less than the value of the microorganisms in your digestive tract.”
“Ter, you’re making things worse,” Dante said, but Ter’s expression turned stubborn. And angry, but not the sort of angry when he found out one of his junior engineers was late for shift. This was the sort of angry like when he’d been trying to figure out how to disarm a booby trap set in the computer system. Dante had spent a fair amount of time sitting in engineering watching Ter, so he was an expert in Ter’s bad moods. He changed strategies. “Kowri are irrationally upset at words. They consider words no different than actions, so if you would not slap Bekdi, consider that he counts words no less offensive.”
That must have broken through because Ter stopped struggling and stared at Bekdi. “You cannot feel assaulted by words as by actions.”
Bekdi narrowed his eyes. “Intelligent beings understand the harm done by incautious words.”
Ter studying the gathered Kowri as though searching for someone to correct Dante. After a few seconds, he said, “I feel dumber for having been forced to breathe the same air as you.”
Bekdi’s expression turned thunderous, and he shoved Ter toward an open hatch. Ter flailed, his arm hitting the edge with an ominous crack before he fell inside.
“How dare you harm a member of Regi a’Divashi’s crew.” Dante curled his lip to show his blunt, human teeth, even if fear was starting to gnaw at his guts. He was, once again, locked in a ship with people who hated him. He was two seconds from having a panic attack and headbutting Bekdi, which would not end well for anyone. Including Bekdi. After all, Peaches was mighty aggravated.
“Shelter here or get off the ship,” Bekdi ordered before he continued down the utilitarian hallway. Most of his people followed, but two smaller Kowri stayed.
“You should check on your crew member, Dante a’Divashi,” the di-male said, his gaze darting up to Dante’s shoulder where Peaches was sharing a dop version of Ter’s profanity-laced complaints. Dante didn’t answer. Sure, maybe these two were being polite, but they still took orders from the most disagreeable Kowri Dante had met outside an assassination plot.
The second Dante stepped into the room, the hatch slid shut behind him with an menacingthunk. Maybe Bekdi had given him the option of leaving, but that had sounded final. Part of him wanted to check; he wanted to turn and open the door to prove to himself that he could open it... that he wasn’t locked in. However, he forced himself to focus on Ter.
If he turned around now, he would be too tempted to start running for the exit and never stop. But Ter needed him.
The room was bare, and other than Dante and Ter, the only other person was an older Kowri with aged gray stripes. Low couches with pastel-colored blobs in random patterns lined the room. The pirate ship had a few rooms like this—places where guests could ride out the gravitational forces of lift-off. Of course their rooms were less colorful. Kowri did like to decorate their spaces. The new Kowri was urging Ter to lie flat for imminent takeoff.
“I understand the physics of lift-off better than you,” he snapped.
“And I understand the instability of injured joints better than you,” the old Kowri snapped right back in a tone so similar it was probably mocking.
“You know nothing about my species. You’ve never met another Fudlahralah.”
“Joints are joints, now lay down or I’ll...” He glanced at Dante.
Dante moved to the couch next to Ter and sat. “We can’t stop Bekdi before he launches this ship, so I say we ride out the launch in the safest possible position and make sure we’re healthy enough to make him miserable later.”
“I can make him miserable nowandlater,” Ter said in a dark tone.
Dante sighed. He hated to do this, but he had few choices. “I’ve never been conscious when I’ve left a planet. I mean, the slavers must have shot me with some sort of tranquilizer or stun gun or something before they stole me from my home planet. I don’t know. But I’m not sure what to do here. What is the least painful way to arrange my limbs?” He tried to appear helpless.
Ter looked suspicious, but he didn’t say anything when the Kowri starting fussing over Dante, showing him how to adjust his couch and place the pillow under his neck to minimize strain. After watching for a minute or so, Ter started adjusting his own couch.
