Hopefully he wouldn’t break the Kowri engines to prove he had the ability to.
The hair at the corners of Optol’s mouth stuck out like a tiny paint brush with broken bristles. “I am responsible for teaching you respect for the temple,” he said, keeping control of his temper.
Dante wondered who Optol a’Setir had angered to get this job. This felt like one of those punishments that bosses and teachers dished out to whoever was in the doghouse. Dante had put his foot down though, insisting he act as the second “father.” Bekdi had argued vociferously, but Sared a’Gavd was the senior elder on the ship, and he seemed unwilling to anger Divashi. As long as Ter had lessons in temple etiquette and Kowri social structure, he allowed Dante to insert himself into Ter’s “family.”
Ter’s elbows stuck out farther. “I know everything I need to. Kowri are illogical creatures with no respect for the autonomy of others.”
Optol looked at Dante, who could only shrug. “Give me a minute with him,” Dante requested.
“Happily.” Optol a’Setir strode out of the room, his back stiff and the hair on his neck standing on end. Unless Dante missedhis guess, he was going to march straight up to the temple and demand to be reassigned. Or have Ter reassigned.
“You could try to play nice,” Dante said.
Ter grabbed the console off the floor and pried off the back with a fingernail. He brought it close to his face so his nose was almost touching it. “Your use of the term ‘play’ in this context shows an inability to process rational thought. Are you personally defective or are huumans incapable of using precise language?”
Dante sighed. “I would like to learn about the gods. These people have so many I can’t throw a stick without hitting three of ‘em.”
Ter glanced up from his examination of the disassembled computer. “Do you have reason to believe three Kowri gods are currently observing us?”
“It’s a saying.”
“Yes, I heard you say it. That is why I am asking. How can you tell that you are the subject of their observation?” Dante avoided the urge to beat his head against the desk he was sitting on.
He didn’t have a chance to explain what he meant by “saying” because a shudder tore through the ship. Dante slid off the desk and fell to the decking. “What the hell...?”
Ter bolted to his feet and headed for the computer Optol manned when he programmed Ter’s smaller handheld computer for the day’s lessons. “He is not going to like you touching that,” Dante warned. Two days ago, the terms of Ter’s “Father’s Years” had been spelled out in very specific terms, and touching adult consoles went on the no-no list.
“That’s not good,” Dante said as another shudder went through the ship. He could feel the vibrations through his feet despite the slight give in the floor.
“You are a moron,” Ter said with certainty. “An explosive charge has damaged the forward shields.”
Dante looked over Ter’s shoulder. “That’s not good.”
“That is an underreaction, but your stupidity is dwarfed by the deplorable logic employed by these useless, fur-ridden, brain-rotted excuses for a sapient species.”
“Um... what?”
Ter whirled around. “We are continuing to move forward, and I have identified a Belfin minefield in our path.”
The blood left Dante’s face. He fumbled as he reached for his communicator. “Exalted Dante with information for Exalted Sared a’Gavd.” No response. Sared was the closest thing the Kowri had to a captain, so she was probably busy right now. All the exalteds were likely busy. “Exalted Dante with information for senior technician Gior a’Gavd,” he called. Silence answered him, and panic started to crawl up his throat.
Ter was muttering about the intellectual failings of xenophobic simpletons, and Dante did not protest. Dante tried one last person—an exalted who made Dante uncomfortable both because of her god and because she had an unhealthy fascination for him and Ter. She made him feel like a zoo animal on exhibit.
“Exalted Dante with information for Exalted Kagiy a’Oba.”
This time the communicator beeped. “Exalted Dante. The temple is awash in interesting stories,” she said in a disturbingly cheerful voice. Dante suspected that the exalteds chosen by the Goddess of Storytelling were a little odd.
“The ship is navigating into a minefield.”
“We will be fine. This is inferior technology created by minor species,” she said in a voice that hovered between calm and condescending.
“We will not be fine,” Ter shouted at Dante’s ear loud enough to make him flinch. “These mines will divert the ship’s energy and leave us without heat or engines.”
That sounded... not good. Dante swore he could feel Divashi’s fingers on his soul.
“Our technology is superior,” Kagiy reassured them.
“You inbred, fluid-filled sac of–”
