Regi's Goddess, chapter 7 (Patreon)

Chapter Seven

Regi poked his computer with more vehemence with every passing second. While Siger was a more appropriate guide than Regi who had not sat atop a pebafri in fifteen years, he still felt an itch to rush to Dante’s side and provide some empty assurance that all would be fine. Dante was a grown man who needed neither the reassurance or Regi’s presence, but still… the feeling persisted. It left Regi in an intemperate mood and his computer was suffering the consequences.

Two crew had gotten in an altercation over a perception that one had neglected his duties, leaving the other to do the work. These petty complaints would only increase the longer they were all confined on the ship. The crew feared the Kowri Empire—with good cause—and that stress would seek a convenient outlet. Regi would normally speak with them in confinement, but his own mood was too unpredictable to deal with angry crew. He routed the report to Vk and left it in her capable hands.

Regi had moved on to the more mundane reports required of a security head when his door chime announced the arrival of Captain Cota. With a sigh, Regi thumbed the door controls.

Cota stood with his thumbs hooked to his utility belt. “I have a meeting with a council of exalteds,” he announced without preamble. Despite the significance of the statement, no horns sounded or music swelled to mark the moment.

“Captain.” Regi stopped, too horrified to properly form words.

He took a step into the room and the door closed behind him. “I hoped you could provide insight into the political structure of the temple before I’m due to speak with them.”

Regi blinked, his horror precluding any thought of reasonable discussion. After a moment, he reined in his emotions. “My insight would include avoiding the exalteds until the ship is repaired and we are on the far side of the border.”

Cota’s neck muscles corded and relaxed in a blink. “You fear violence.”

“I expect violence if the wrong individuals are aggravated,” Regi corrected him.

“Then perhaps you can identify those individuals so I can avoid violence.”

Again, words escaped Regi like fish darting into the shadows formed by the roots of a grand tree when a predator appeared at the side of their pool. “I do not know these exalteds well enough to offer such advice,” he said slowly. “I can only advise you to avoid any prolonged conversations.” Regi was aware that the captain had been attempting to speak with Kowri who walked too near the ship, but he had not known that any exalted had paid attention to his requests.

His mouth curled into a wry smile. “I suspect that is no longer an option. I assume refusing to meet with them would cause significant consternation.”

It would, and from the expression on Cota’s face, he knew as much. Regi wished he had spent more time mitigating Cota’s curiosity and political machinations, but he had been distracted by temple issues: the matter of Divashi’s intentions and discussions of political options with Alb. “I am unsure what you hope to gain.”

Cota settled into a seat. “I am aware that you would keep me on the ship and away from other Kowri.”

Resentment washed through Regi. “Because as a Kowri, I am arrogant and disrespect the autonomy of others.” Regi had heard as much from any number of Coalition members. They painted Regi with the same broad brush they used on his entire species, ignoring the sins committed by the Coalition in generations past.

Cota huffed. “Because you are obsessive in ensuring the safety of the crew. I will admit that I questioned my superiors’ motives in assigning a Kowri to lead the security team, especially given that we patrol the border with the Empire. However, I quickly grew to respect that decision because you prioritize the crew. I have served on this ship with Ter for many years, and every security officer before you enforced the rules without taking care to protect Ter from the consequences of his own poor relationships with others, but his subordinates last longer now because you blunt the worst of his temper. You minimize the consequences of any complaints Ter might file while allowing him to vent his spleen on you.” Cota leaned forward. “I trust you with our security.”

Regi stared at the captain, not sure how to respond. He had assumed Cota had not noticed that certain complaints brought up at the officers’ review meetings were never filed with the official reports. And had he realized that Cota was aware, he would have expected a complaint from the captain. “Then you know I hope to protect you from the xenophobia of other Kowri.”

“I do,” Cota said. “I am not a tactically brilliant thinker, but I am good with managing personalities.”

“Except Ter.” The words slipped out before Regi could edit his thoughts. The day had provided more stress than he could process into a reasonable response.

“Including Ter,” Cota said with some amusement. “I aggravate him to provide a target for his infamous temper. I appreciate that manage the aggravation of his staff with more facility than previous security chiefs, and so you improve moral. However, Ter still requires an outlet.”

“You’re manipulating him.” Regi’s world view slid to the side as all previous interactions took on new meaning.

“Of course I am. The man has a mind that can advance technology that most sapient creatures can barely comprehend; however, he would inspire his staff to commit murder if someone didn’t intervene.” Cota huffed his amusement, although Regi found nothing humorous in the image of Ter’s staff revolting against his unreasonable temper. They had come close a few times, but with this new insight, Regi could see that Cota had drawn Ter’s ire by enforcing some little-used rule or creating a training game that caused Ter to curse in so many languages and with such creativity that the translation matrix failed, making Regi’s scalp itch as the tingle grew too great.

“I didn’t think you noticed,” Regi said.

“So, you believed I was a great fool.”

“Only a minor one. I don’t believe it falls under the captain’s duties to protect apprentice-level technicians from the engineer’s wrath.”

“It’s the captain’s duty to provide for the crew. That’s why I must speak with the Kowri exalteds.”

Regi considered the statement in light of his new understanding of the captain. “That is dangerous,” he reiterated. Even an individual with such insight into the needs of others could not blunt the anger Kowri carried for the Coalition that had disrespected and stolen from them.

“Are you refusing to brief me?” Cota asked, his voice gentle. Despite the tone, a shiver made Regi’s fur ripple.

“I am not. I would never withhold information from you, captain.”

“Would you not? Not even to protect me? Protect the crew?”

Regi opened his mouth, but remained silent. He could not deny the charge without lying. Perhaps he might have obfuscated, but he found himself unexpectedly uncertain about the captain. The man was more shrewd than Regi expected, and that left him unsure about how to handle him. “The safest course is to repair the ship as quickly as possible and leave Kowri space.”

“Without you?” Cota asked.

“Would you prefer I remain?” Shock made Regi’s voice louder than he had intended.

“No. I would prefer you continue as my security officer. However, the Kowri seem to believe the proper place for an exalted is the temple—at least I assume as much from the number of times they have requested your presence.”

Regi cringed.

“I understand the mistakes made in the past, but I need your insight before I speak with these temple exalteds. Do these individuals resemble an Efhtee assembly or a Rit’let’telaic legislature or a Vajroon court? Is their decision making authority more closely related to the Coalition Officer Councils or the Regent Convocation? I know the exalteds vote, but does each individual’s voice speak as loudly as any other?”

Regi wished he had answers. Perhaps Cota would be more capable of using the information than Regi had given him credit for. “I do not know any of these exalteds. In every group, some carry more authority because of age or an ability to form informal alliances, but I cannot lay out political realities that I struggle to understand myself. Alb and Sibja have spoken with me and a few Kowri incluing Bekdi a’Gavd and Leevshi a’Dicia are united in their hatred of outsiders. They want us gone, but they feel that since Divashi revealed this ship, the ship belongs to the Empire.”

Cota blanched. Perhaps now he understood the dire situation they faced. “Do others agree with this perspective?”

“Most are silent, unsure about where to lead the Empire when a god has done something no god has ever done before.”

“I thought you followed a goddess?”

Regi smoothed down his arm hair. His emotional state was such that he could not relax enough to lay the hairs down flat. “Your language is binary—male and female. My language has three sexes, but our pronouns are ungendered. I do follow a goddess, but when I speak of the more universe distress of a god perceiving events outside the Empire, your translation matrix creates a distinction where none exists in Kowri.”

Cota tangled his fingers into a complex knot. “Ean would remove a small bone from her own body with a spoon if you would share even that much linguistic insight with her.”

“No doubt,” Regi agreed. She had, early in his assignment, peppered him with questions about Kowri language and psychology—none of which he had answered. She was likely dying one hair at a time to be this close to her answers and be confined to the ship. “If one were to consider only the exalteds and no others, the government would resemble the true democracy of the Filixi. The rest of the Kowri trust the exalteds to lead. Complaints from citizens are taken to a temple, and if a resolution is not found, the debate moves to the three season temple. However, Kowri have no frame of reference for diplomacy. Not only am I completely ignorant about how they might respond, but I fear the exalteds themselves are unaware of the ways they might react. Fear is dangerous. Fear and ignorance is worse.”

“It is a dire situation,” Cota said, “and I plan to apologize for the entire Coalition. Every captain assigned to the border knows that to be the primary responsiblity of any officer who can get the Kowri to listen.”

“Abject apologies might sooth certain ruffled feathers; however, if you get some Kowri to acknowledge your perspective, that could push other Kowri to oppose you if only to maintain the balance and ensure that those more favorable to outsiders do not gain ascendancy.” Regi would have continued to lay out the political dangers, only his communicator gave a sharp tone.

“Yes?” Regi answered.

Vk said in a strained voice, “I believe you should open your door.”

Regi traded concerned looks with Cota. “Why?”

“Because I would avoid someone dying of poison,” Vk responded. It was an enigmatic response for a practical woman. Regi triggered the mechanism and the dop Dante had named Peaches waddled in, one of her smaller male attendants following.

“Should those be loose in the corridor?” Cota asked as he pulled his feet up, propping his shoes on the edge of Regi’s desk to keep them away from quills.

“She has never shown an interest in leaving her room in the past.” Regi walked around the desk, surprised when she tried to climb his pant leg. She was larger than most, and the effort entailed panting and grunts that sounded distinctly unhealthful. Regi offered the flat of his hand, and she trundled onto it. The male tried to follow, and she warning chittered at him, leaving him to cry in the corner of the office. Apparently she had decided to disallow any courtships at this time.

“Regi?” Vk leaned around the corner, sticking only her head in the office.

“I shall take her outside. Perhaps she has decided to attend the temple or return to the woods,” Regi said. Peaches rattled her quills angrily and hissed. The sound made Cota flinch.

“That does not sound safe,” Vk observed.

“It is not, but Dante would have more familiarity with her noices than I do.” Just because Regi was an exalted of Divashi did not mean he could read her creatures the way some could. His mother had been able to watch the way her dafs croana curled into a knot and could predict the outcome of a pregnancy from it, but he lacked any commeserate skill with dops.

“Maybe you should call him,” Cota suggested.

That was a wise suggestion. Dante had not been able to carry a phone since he had no legal identify in the communication system, but any stable hand who had escorted him during their ride would have one. Regi pulled out his own phone and request communication with all staff of the stables owned by Siger a’Gavd.

An unfamiliar voice answered. “Twin blessings of the gods to you.”

“I am seeking the outsider Dante a’Texas.”

“The hairless one?” another voice asked. Regi wondered how many staff Siger employed and why the man did not respond. He knew which outsider had requested permission to ride a pebafri.

“Yes,” Regi said. “I require his assistance in regards to a dop that is fond of him.” That would inspire someone to provide information. If his mother’s dafs croana made others uncomfortable, a dop terrified them.

“I had not seen him,” one voice said. One at a time, a half dozen others concurred. Regi did not hear the deeper tones of Siger. A sourness filled his stomach.

“Then I would speak with Siger a’Gavd,” he said.

“He has left.”

“I requested communication with all staff of the stables. Surely he is staff at his own stable, so why has he not answered?”

A long pause answered, and Regi began walking toward the exit, his mind spinning in a dozen ridiculous directions. “I have found his phone,” a woman answered. “It is on the floor of one of the stalls, so it likely fell from his pocket. I will return it to him when he is back from his ride. You may call for him then.”

“Are you sure he is riding?” Regi paused at the top of a ladder, cursing the angle that meant all lifts were offline. He could not hold the dop, the phone and the ladder at one time, but his instincts screamed at him that he needed to move.

“He took the pebafri he has been working to gentle,” she said. “Siger will return when the sun in lower. May I tell him who seeks his attention?”

“Exalted Regi de Exalted Minait a’Otutha qee Pertin e Rel, favorite of Divashi, Lady of poisons, disorder, change and new beginnings,” he said, using the formal titles he had hesitated to claim in the past. Something was wrong and if he had to use his little temple clout to ensure Dante’s safety, he would. A hiss on the other end revealed the staff’s surprise. Without any additional pleasantries, Regi disconnected the phone and shoved it in a pocket before flinging himself down the ladder with one hand.

Something was definitely wrong, and if Peaches was involved, it was a wrong large enough for the Lady Divashi to see and deem significant enough for her involvement.