Gods of Misfortune II. (Patreon)

Yesterday I read a Bujold novel as kids took their finals, and it put me back in the mood for Regi and Dante.  I think the way I started this novel before was weak, so I've kept most of chapter one, but chapter two is entirely new.  Hopefully I will find the muse and move quickly on this one. As always, I love to hear what works in the narrative and what doesn't.

Chapters One and Two

Chapter One

“What are you doing? That is a closed system. Don’t open that!” Ter’s voice echoed down the metal corridors of the pirate ship the crew had confiscated. Damage to the drive system had grounded the ship on a Kowri planet, but apparently Ter had chosen to disregard the precarious political situation. He was not alone in that. Captain Cota was using their time in on a restricted planet to argue that the Kowri Empire should work with the Coalition. He hadn’t used the words “join the Coalition.” Yet. However, Regi could hear it hovering in the air on the rare occasion that Kowri exalteds walked slowly enough past the ship that Captain Cota could speak at them.

Since the Kowri Empire was more technologically advanced and distrustful of outsiders, the Empire was unlikely to appreciate the suggestion. Unfortunately Cota believed that he could convince them otherwise and that Regi, since he was the lone Kowri to leave the Empire to serve on a Coalition ship, had the power to drag exalteds back to the ship to listen to Cota.

Ter, on the other hand, had gone out of his way to prove that he was not intimidated or impressed by Kowri technology. He was equally happy offending Kowri as any of the hundred or so species that made up the Coalition. Regi feared that his people would lose patience before Ter ran out of insults.

Regi walked a little faster.

“Wait. How did...” Ter paused, and then his voice returned twice as loudly. “Explain that!” He sounded like a child demanding candy, a comparison Regi did not intend to share since Ter had lived at least a couple of centuries, far longer than the gods had allotted to any Kowri. Regi crossed the threshold, his stomach churning. He’d walked this part of the ship dozens of times since the radiation had cleared and engineers had begun working, but the moment when the last pirate had taken refuge in the radioactive zone  dominated his thoughts. Regi had been sure he would die—he and Dante. The huuman either had remarkable levels of faith or a lack of intelligence for following Regi into a radiative zone.

Regi could not decide which event was more improbable—a former slave risking his life to save Regi or the fact that Divashi, goddess of poisons, had saved them both.

Regi entered the room to find two Kowri engineers on rolling access stools, and both looked trapped between frustration and homicidal fury. “I have no obligation to explain science to lesser beings,” one snapped. Ter puffed up his chest, but his species was slender enough that no amount of posturing would make him the physical equal to a Kowri, even if he had the advantage of height.

“Ter.” Regi acknowledged his crew member before turning to the Kowri engineers. “Merbol, Hrole.” He touched his temples in greeting. After two weeks back on one of the Kowri worlds, he found the manners of his youth had returned.

“Exalted,” Merbol said respectly.

“Hey, Regi.” Dante was sitting on a cooling pipe, perched high above the others. He swung his legs slowly as through listening to some music inaudible to the rest of them.

“Dante, I had not known you were down here.”

“Ter was going to explain ship engines in a way that even idiots could understand, but then these two showed up.” Dante’s expression had a touch of merriment that suggested he was enjoying Ter’s frustration.

“We are attempting to speed the repairs,” Merbol said. Then he gave Ter a narrow-eyed glare. “However, this one slows our work.”

“This one,” Ter said, spitting the words out, “wants to know how you are isolating the rapid-decay particles.”

Nothing could anger Ter faster than technology he did not understand or endorse; however, the Empire would not bow to his preference. Regi intervened before the situation could grow more heated. “I doubt they can explain how Kowri developed the process and they are not allowed to explain the application of the technology.” The Empire jealously guarded their technology to the point that they normally shot down any Coalition ships that attempted to approach their worlds.

That would be unforgivable except the Coalition had spent considerable time and effort trying to steal the Kowri’s god-gifted technology. The only reason the Kowri had not already destroyed this ship and all in it was that Regi had caught the attention of a god. That had forced the temple to offer reluctant assistance. Given that Regi’s goddess had caused their Coalition ship to fall into a black hole, Regi did think the Kowri had an obligation to fix the pirate ship the crew had commandeered.

Ter puffed more, his arms held out at awkward angles. “I’m in charge of these engines. How can I know if they are following safety protocols if I don’t understand the process?” Regi opened his mouth to offer reassurances, but Ter continued. “After all, these Empire people are stupid enough to believe a god will save them from their own mistakes. If you allow long decay particles to contaminate the working area, no god will be enough to protect from the cellular damage.”

All Regi’s sympathy vanished. “Kowri do not rely on our gods.” Regi stopped and reined in his frustration. He’d once believed it annoying to be the only Kowri on a ship full of Coalition members. He had not understood how having additional Kowri in the immediate vicinity would exacerbate his unhappiness.

“You believe grand mythical gods of untold power can fix radiation poisoning.” Ter folded his long arms so his elbows pointed right at Regi. The defensive gesture dared Regi to deny his goddess. Regi might fear Ter’s elbows in an enclosed space, but not enough to deny the Lady of poisons.

“Since the Lady Divashi chose to protect me from radiation, I maintain ‘know’ is a more appropriate verb,” he said coldly.

“This is not a place for you, exalted.” Merbol held his hands low in apology. That was universal Kowri-speak for “Please go away so the gods do not see what we are about to do.” Since the gods were so much larger than corporeal life, they could no more perceive Merbol and Ter and Hrole than the average Kowri could see ants crawling through the fallen leaves of harvest season. However, Regi had her attention. Regi cast a light upon his life, and his goddess could use that to see those around him. Since gods often chose to assist their exalteds by gracing them with bad luck to guide their lives toward a favorable outcome, most Kowri would rather avoid them.

Furthermore, his goddess had few exalteds. The Lord of justice—Gavd— had thousands of exalteds, and even a god could not see all Kowri space at once. Regi suspected other Kowri feared him not only because his goddess was associated with poison, disorder and her sacred dops, but also because she had so few exalteds. Anyone near Regi might gain the undivided attention of a god.

“Play nice, Ter,” Dante said with humor in his voice. Regi realized Ter was muttering invectives under his breath.

Ter poked a pair of long fingers in Dante’s direction. “You are free to leave.”

“Exalted,” Merbol lowered his hands even more, “this is not a proper place for one such as you.”

Dante swung his legs faster. “Yeah, if you stay here, you might have to testify against Larry and Mo when they shove Ter head first into the engine.”

Ter glared at Dante, but Regi suspected Dante had great insight on the conflict, although the translation matrix must have gone terribly wrong for Dante to believe the engineers were named Larry and Mo.

“Do you accuse us of violence?” Hrole demanded. He sounded far more aggravated about Dante’s joke than he had about Ter’s irreverence. Then again, Kowri did not expect outsiders to respect their gods.

“Nope.” Dante held his hands up in a way that Regi associated with his use of humor; however, the two engineers shot to their feet, their hands up in defensive positions. Regi walked between and caught Dante’s hand, pulling it down.

“To raise your hand is a signal to begin conflict,” he explained. That was as close to a universal gesture as he had seen, but Dante’s people assigned a different meaning to it.

“Sorry about that.” Dante shifted his hands to show them palm down and low—another near-universal signal. The fact he had picked up on the body language the rest of them used showed his adaptability and intelligence. “I am definitely not interested in starting a fight.”

Regi turned to face the engineers. “Dante’s are a young people who had not encountered another species before he was taken by pirates. He did not intend to threaten anyone. His gesture was one of humor.”

“Surrender,” Dante said.

Regi frowned at him.

Dante put his hands back up. “We do this to show we don’t carry weapons. It’s a gesture of surrender meaning we don’t want to fight. Although, I do tend to use it when I’m joking, so you aren’t wrong about that. But I apologize for making you feel unsafe.” He slid down off the pipe. “I should probably avoid shit stirring around new people.”

A horrified silence fell over the small group. Regi was unsure about Dante’s motivation in reminding them that he had been a slave often assigned to move excrement and do other distasteful and dangerous work. Perhaps he used the statement to remind the rest of them that their squabbles were petty. Regi agreed on that point.

Ter recovered first. “How does that isotope isolator work?” He closed the distance between himself and Merbol.

Merbol brought his hands up. “I begin to think the huuman’s suggestion has merit.”

“It does not,” Regi said sharply. “If you cannot work under Ter’s direction, then the temple will have to sacrifice efficiency and allow Ter to repair the engine without assistance.” Merbol’s mouth opened, no doubt to lodge a protest, but Regi turned to Ter. “And if you wish for assistance and access to Kowri technology, the price you must pay is patience. They deserve to work without interrogation.” Regi looked from Ter to the Kowri engineers and back. “So, Ter, do these two have permission to work on the engines?” Regi could not predict Ter’s behavior. The man was short-tempered and demanding, but he also cared deeply about the ship and crew.

After a moment, Ter let his arms hang at his sides. “If they do something that makes the engines overload, I will spend endless days detailing the breadth and width of your stupidity in painful detail.”

“If we fail, the reaction will lead to our deaths, so you will have to speak quickly,” Merbol snapped. This was going as well as Regi had expected.

“You’re the ones who believe in multiple lives,” Ter said. “I will find you in the next one and make you miserable there. Isolate the radiation to the far side of the chamber and I’ll navigate the repair bot.” Turning, Ter dropped into the chair attached to the control panel. Apparently the conversation was over from his point of view. Merbol stared balefully at the back of Ter’s head for a moment before he returned to the Kowri equipment. Hrole gifted the back of Ter’s head with an obscene gesture before he moved to Merbol’s side.

“I should get back to the dops.” Dante moved toward the door with silent steps.

Regi still had trouble believing pirates had farmed the sacred dops for their poisonous quills, using the fast-action paralytic as the main ingredient in a new recreational drug with soporific and hallucinogenic properties. It made sense that their work required them to steal slaves since no sane criminal would handle such dangerous animals. But Dante handled dops as easily as a parent handled an infant—carefully but with great affection.

His habit of spending so much time in the room where the last of the dops lived worried Regi. It worried Ean as well, but Dante refused to talk to her despite her expertise in assisting individuals who had suffered trauma. Never in his life had Regi met another individual who needed Ean more, but given that Regi avoided her as well, he could not criticize Dante for protecting the privacy of his thoughts.

“You could explore,” Regi said.

Dante gave him an incredulous look. “I’ve scrubbed every inch of this ship, usually with some pirate standing six feet behind me barking orders. I’ll stick with Peaches.”

Peaches. Dante had named the dominant female dop—a creature with enough poison to kill ten men—a name associated with sweet tree-grown fruit. Regi wondered if the mental deficiencies were a symptom of distress or if huumans suffered some lack of self-preservation or logic.

“I have to make it up to her that I left her without food and water for three days,” Dante said. “I still can’t believe you idjits couldn’t find a concealed door.”

“The pirates were experts at concealing them.”

Dante snorted as he headed into the corridor. “Maybe I had too high of expectations for my first aliens, but I would think you would notice that there was a great chunk of the deck inaccessible from any direction, which would have led you to suspect a door.”

“Lady Onidba, goddess of logic, would agree,” Regi admitted.

“Still, feeding the hedgehogs was my job.”

“Dops,” Regi corrected him. If Lady Divashi watched, Regi did not wish for Dante to offer offence by misnaming her sacred creatures.

Dante stopped at the top of a ladder set at an awkward angle. The curved bottom of the Coalition ship was designed for a dock sling, but the Kowri had none. It left the entire ship tilted uncomfortably. Perhaps that was part of the reason for the crew’s restlessness. Either that or they suspected the truth of the temple debates around the Coalition ship and crew. Regi hoped not. They did not deserve to live in fear that the negotiations went poorly.

“Dops… poisonous hedgehogs… poTAEto… poTAHto.”

Regi frowned, not following any of that response.

Dante sighed. “I owe Peaches. She’s getting on in years, and she needs the company.”

“Other dops have stayed. If she were lonely, she would leave when we open the doors for her.” They still did so regularly, largely because Exalted Nawr kept requesting it. Nawr had been the most fair-minded of the exalteds so far, not taking a position as much as listening to all sides and seeking more information. He took seriously his roles as senior exalted and exalted of Ectipic, Goddess of protection. He did not press for any vote in the temple, which maintained the safety of the Coalition crew, but Regi feared that the crew’s nerves would lead someone to make a fatal error if they continued to be trapped in a stolen pirate ship with hundreds of Kowri weapons pointed at them.

“You may believe Lady Divashi guides Peaches,” Dante touched his forehead as he named the goddess, a gesture uniquely huuman but unmistakably one of respect, “but I think it’s more likely the old lady was born in captivity and doesn’t know what to do with herself outside that room.”

Regi winced. To question the movements of a sacred animal was to question the gods. Perhaps Dante’s words were a sign from the Lady Divashi that he should not involve Dante in issues of temple politics. After all, if Regi held him out as a theologically acceptable outsider and Dante failed in that role, it could prove more disastrous than all Ter’s yelling. After all, the Kowri expected poor behavior from one who called the gods imaginary.

However, the gods did not move that way. They did not give ambiguous signs or cause individuals to speak with their voices. The only times Regi knew he was god-led, his ship and his ribs had been broken. Bad luck was the first gift of the gods, after all. More firm in his path, he asked Dante, “Can I speak with you privately?”

Dante frowned, a gesture where he drew down the fur over his eyes. “Um, sure,” he said. “We can talk in my room.” Where he had set up stray blankets and pillows on a shipping cushion so he could sleep in the room where the pirates had kept the dop cages. Sadly that was an improvement over his insistence that he sleep in the converted cargo hold that had been the locked slave quarters. It scared Regi that the lives of the crew might rest on the abilities of someone who was so damaged. He had to trust that his goddess had a plan. And he did. He simply worried that the lives of a Coalition crew would be so small in her sight that she might not notice when those lives were ended.

Chapter Two

Dante led the way back to the room he’d claimed. With the ship at such an uncomfortable angle, the bunks in his old room were likely to dump him out of bed when he rolled over. Besides, the smell of the dops was comforting. The pirates wanted dop poison, but the tiny creatures were a source of terror for them. They had avoided the room so it had become Dante’s only refuge.

Regi followed Dante into the room and closed the door behind him. They he stood with an expression that hinted at severe constipation. The Kowri were handsome people with strong features and black and gray tiger stripes, but in low light, Dante could imagine Regi was human. Ter resembled a poorly assembled scarecrow and Regi’s security assistant had a nose that looked like a mole and an elephant had a baby and stuck its nose in the middle of a baboon’s face. Not attractive. And the doctor had boobs running all down a body wide enough to make a sumo wrestler envious.

But Kowri had soulful eyes and familiar faces. Their velvet fur and the extra thumb on the outside of their hand were alien, but not overly strange. But despite all that attractiveness, there was something disturbing about a species so xenophobic that it would destroy ships rather than risk having alien spy on them.

Dante trusted Regi, but he had chosen to leave his people. He had abandoned his grand Empire with their temples and their gods and fled to the Coalition. So while Dante could believe that Regi was a good man, he had trouble believing the same for the other Kowri. And seeing as how the ship was currently broken and stranded on a Kowri world, that thought was not a comfort.

“I have a request.” Regi lifted his hands hallway to his temples before lowering them again. Dante had seen the gesture often enough to suspect it was his version of signing himself, the way Dante’s Catholic grandmother had every time someone mentioned Dante’s father. He didn’t know if his grandmother was asking for forgiveness for whatever murderous thoughts she harbored for her son-in-law or if she was praying for her daughter to leave the bastard, but Regi’s gesture had the same solemn element of ritual. Since Kowri gods took an active role in life, Dante could appreciate the need to avoid pissing off such powerful, non-corporeal neighbors.

“Anything.” Dante owed Regi his freedom and likely his life. Dante had been considering ways to make the pirates kill him when Regi had spotted the pirate ship hiding at the edge of a black hole.

“I am called to temple.” Regi wrinkled his nose in an expression of disgust.

“I hope you are better at concealing your emotions when you are in front of your temple leaders.”

Regi laughed, a huge honking noise that still startled Dante if he wasn't prepared for it. “I grew up the only son of a temple exalted. I assure you I know how to avoid being impolitic.”

“I hope so, seeing as how your people appear to hold all the cards in this situation.”

“To which cards do you refer?” Regi asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. The gesture made him look cute—a term he would likely not appreciate.

“I just mean that your people seem to have all the power here since the Coalition ship is still disabled.”

Regi scratched the side of his neck. “There is some debate on whether this ship is rightfully belongs to the Coalition.”

A rock formed in Dante’s gut. If the Kowri took the ship away from this crew, where would the crew go? Dante had a few theories, but none he wished to say aloud. “Why?”

“Certain exalteds argue that the Lady Divashi led me to the ship in order to save her sacred dops.”  Regi cast an uneasy look at the male dop sitting on the top of Regi’s boot and clinging to his pant leg. Dante would have rescued him, but in the past, the smaller males had leapt out of Dante's hand to land on Regi's shoulder or head. Regi always flinched away from that, so Dante left the small male to molest Regi's ankle in peace.

“Maybe it's because I'm human and we don't have a lot of experience in space seeing as how we only have two planets and mostly just fly back and forth between the two, but it does seem to me that the captain of the crew would pull rank on a security officer.”

“Captain Cota will, no doubt, make that very argument when this debate reaches his ears. And when However, Leevshi and Bekdi are exceptionally vocal in wanting to claim the ship and both are disturbingly silent on what should happen to the crew.”

“Leevshi? Which one is he?” Dante asked. He had always disparaged his father and his political ambitions, but his old man had an uncanny ability to make political alliances. Dante was trying to emulate his father and get a sense of where the political fault lines were among these temple exalteds.

The only thing it took to get him to respect any part of his father's life was an alien kidnapping and several months of captivity where he watched everyone who had been taken with him die one after another. He suspected that was a rather pointed example of irony.

“Leevshi is the follower of Dicia, the God of crystals.”

Some of the temple associations helped Dante understand personalities. Nawr was a follower of Ectipic, and that goddess of protection certainly did seem to rub off on him. He had insisted that the Coalition crew remain unmolested, and even unquestioned as long as the temple debated. But Dante could not imagine what being a follower of the God of crystals would say about someone's personality. “Crystals?”

Regi drew his mouth into a pucker. “He is young and as brittle as a crystal. I tend to think of the exalteds of Dicia as being insightful and perhaps a little inflexible in their thinking, but this debate has proved unsettling for Leevshi.”

“Wait. Is he the one who stormed out of the meeting last week?”

“Yes, but I am not overly concerned about Leevshi. He may be in exalted, but he is young and intemperate. The others are unlikely to be swayed by his more martial suggestions. I am far more concerned about Bekdi.”

Dante knew that name. “He is the follower of Gavd, God of justice, isn't he?”

“He is.”

The man was taller than Dante, and Dante had a good eight to twelve inches on most of the Kowri. It wasn’t hard to imagine that he was the Kowri equivalent of a police officer, a comparison that made Dante deeply uncomfortable. A gay man in Texas had no reason to trust the police. “He looks like he would win a fistfight.”

“I'd do not understand the reference to fighting with one's fists. I assure you, the temple does not solve disputes that way.”

Dante huffed. “No, I just mean he's large. He's a real bruiser.”

“Regi nodded before bringing his hands together and touching his four thumbs in a diamond shape in front of his chest. “He is a da-male, and they are larger. While each individual chooses his or her own path, da-males are typically seen as being slower to anger and more rational. And Bekdi is old enough that his words carries weight. Where he goes Nuruti follows.”

All the names were giving Dante a headache. At least Regi had given up trying to use their full temple-name, which involved the exalted, their god, their mother’s name and her god and the names of their two fathers. It was a lot. However, even without being able to place all the individuals, Dante got the general idea. “You're saying that the temple debates are going against us.”

“They do not appear in our favor. But it is to our advantage that the Lady Divashi stands firmly by my side.” Regi slowly knelt and put his hand on the ground palm up to allow the job to crawl into it. The creature immediately used his tiny paws to grip Regi's inner thumb. “Where the gods lead, even reluctant Kowri must follow. And we are not entirely without supporters. I came to ask you to come with me to the temple to meet with Sibja and Alb. They appear most likely to support our claim that the Lady Divashi sees not only me but also the Coalition crew.”

“So that's two against four firm supporters of the kill-the-infidels position?” Those sounded like less than favorable odds, and it left dozens if not hundreds of Kowri exalteds avoiding the debate. Dante’s father had always said that winning a political fight was about getting the opposition to stay home more than in turning out numbers on your own side. After years… hell, decades… of ignoring his father’s advice, Dante found himself wishing he had listened more attentively.

Regi winced. “Nuruti is not advocating violence.”

“But you said he follows were Bekdi leads, and Bekdi seems pretty unforgiving.” Dante wondered if that was a universal trait for all the followers of Gavd. Dante had not met many Kowri, but the three followers of that god all seemed like unforgiving bastards, even the woman.

“Bekdi does not call for violence. He would not put Gavd up against Divashi, and I have great hope that Alb can convince some of the silent exalteds to take our side. She has a way of convincing others.”

Regi had mentioned that name before. She was a follower of Oba, the Lady of writing, and so old that she was nearly white. Dante had seen her from a distance, and had thought for a moment that she was albino.

“And who does Sibja follow?” Dante really needed a flow chart, but that was true for human politics as well. That’s why he’d preferred the back of a horse. Give him a dozen city people who had horse riding lessons on their bucket list any day of the week. He’d rather deal with entitlement and ignorance than politics.

“Iloxot, Lady of punishment.”

Dante winced. “Well, I guess I would rather have that lady support us than not.” Dante sat on the edge of the straw bin someone had dragged in as a sort of offering to the dops. “Regi, be honest. What are the odds that your people are going to let us off this planet or even let us live?”

Regi settled on the edge of the bed Dante had made for himself. The awkward angle of the floor meant he squatted awkwardly for a minute before he gave in to gravity and leaned back against the wall. “My people will not kill you. There is no version of justice that would justify it.”

“Not even if Tur keeps annoying the engineers and demanding access to Kowri technology?”

Again, Regi grimaced. Dante suspected their situation was more dire than Regi was willing to admit, but after spending months as a slave, Dante's fear seemed almost inaccessible. It was as if he had faced death for so long that it was a foregone conclusion and all he could control was the amount of pain he might suffer on his journey there. Dante suspected this was not a healthy point of view.

“I will admit, it would be easy for the Kowri to strand us here,” Regi said softly. “But the Lady left me no choice when she continued to damage the ship. I had to bring us here or risk dying in space when the goddess pushed too hard for flesh to survive her attempt to assist us.”

“I don’t blame you,” Dante hurried to say. He should have anticipated the guilt, but he hadn’t. The Lady Divashi had forced them to land here. Maybe the Coaltion crew dismissed her as a figment of Kowri imagination, but Dante believed. He wasn’t sure she was a god, and he was sure she wasn’t the God, but she had mighty god-like hands and too little understanding of the fragility of life. “They could turn this ship into a prison that would hold us for the rest of our natural lives.”

“Given how long Bevti’s species lives, that would be awkward.”

Dante noticed that was not a denial.

“However,” Regi said brightly, “I want you to come with me today to speak with Alb and Sibja. They need to see that outsiders can be respectful of the gods and maybe then they will believe that the gods can respect outsiders.”

“Me? I'm not even a member of the Coalition. I'm a nobody from a species to unimportant that none of you has ever heard of us.”

“And that would be in our favor as well. I know it has been a millennia since the Coalition feigned broken navigation systems and overheating engines in order to force their way across the Kowri border, but Kowri have an uncanny adoration for history and an unwillingness to forget insults. The fact that you are not Coalition will work in your favor as will the fact that you are not greedy for Kowri technology like Ter or anxious for some political win like Cota. I fear those two would simply reinforce every stereotype that the exalted hold of the Coalition.”

“So what? I go in make nice with the two gentlemen in the hope that they can talk a host of exalteds into siding with us?” That seemed dangerously optimistic. Dante wasn’t particularly skilled with words, even when everyone spoke English. Add in the odd phrasing and missing words of the implanted translator and Dante was almost sure he was a menace, rhetorically speaking.

“Sibja and Alb are both female, as is our other strong supporter, Gimi, but I am hoping we can speak with her later. Gimi is a follower of Onidba, Lady of logic, and she tends to ask so many questions and challenge her own beliefs to such an extent that she makes others question everything they believed. Let her turn that inquisitive mind to those set against us. If we are meeting with those who support us, she is best left out of that meeting. Very few find the followers of Onidba comfortable in a conversation.

“Sounds like some lawyers I know.” Like his father. “So three on our side, and you're hoping I can give the two ladies some ammunition they can use to convince the others.”

“I am. The majority of exalteds remain neutral in this matter, waiting for some god to provide a sign. But I fear that sometimes my people wait too long for the gods, even when we know that they rarely intervene in our worlds. I know you have had a rather divine introduction to Kowri, but we are inclined to lead boring lives. The gods intervene in most Kowri lives only once or twice, thank the host of the heavens.” Regi rubbed his own ribs where they had been broken. Regi often said that the first gift of a god was bad luck, so hopefully the Kowri would reach some reasonable conclusion before any of these great beings felt the need to stick oversized fingers into the mess. Dante had thought politics back home was difficult, but knowing that powerful creatures watched ready to rain down bad luck if you chose wrong was a new level of misery, one that even his father would not appreciate.

“Will me talking to them help?” Dante asked. “I can’t tell them anything important about the Coalition or soothe any of their fears, especially since it sounds pretty reasonable to fear that Coalition folks might steal their technology.”

“I hope you can help.” Regi did not sound entirely convinced. But sometimes when a man had only poor choices in front of him, he had to choose the lesser of the evils. His SAT tutor had said something similar. If the only answers possible were wrong, choose the least wrong option.  Regi said this was the least wrong option, so Dante believed him. Dante stood. “Well then, let's go talk to these ladies of yours and convince them that I am not the barbarian they seem to assume.”