Read Running from the Deity for Free Online

toward the wide, arched entrance.

    “Pip!”
    Just the name was all it took. He didn’t have to whistle, didn’t have to yell, did not have to utter a complicated stream of commands. Actually, even the use of the minidrag’s name was superfluous. Flinx’s heightened anxiety would be enough to draw her back to him as she sensed his shift in mood. But it always felt right to call her by name.
    Mildly curious as to what had momentarily drawn her attention away from him, Flinx peered into the Dwarran night. The three small moons cast just enough light for him to make out the rolling edges of the surrounding dunes, like so many ocean waves frozen in time and blasted beige by the sun. Odd flora responded to the occasional breeze off the nearby bay by bending low to hide their sensitive heads in the sand. A few burrowing creatures of as yet undetermined lineage made fitful dashes from hole to hole. Overhead, yet another new set of constellations peered down at him.
    So many worlds circling so many distant suns. In his short life he’d already seen too many of them, and yet not enough. Or at least, he corrected himself, not the right ones.
    So far this one seemed amenable, if not openly inviting. Unable to see anything that might have drawn Pip’s attention, he tried to reach out with his Talent, only to find that, as was too often the case, it had decided to shrink to an unperceiving blur in the back of his mind. Such lapses in his singular ability had become less and less common as he grew older, but they still struck him with alarming unpredictability.
    Unable to perceive any emotions in his immediate environs save his own, he decided to carry out physiological experiments instead. Bending his knees, he executed another vertical leap. Due to the lower gravity here, he found that he could jump much higher than the terrestrial norm. Contrary to popular belief, bounding about in light gravity was not all pure exhilaration. He would have to watch his stride lest he put his feet down in awkward places they would automatically avoid on t-gravity-normal worlds. For example, if he did not gauge distance correctly, he might find himself accidentally leaping over a cliff—or into one. On the other hand, he would be able to cover longer distances on foot than was normal, and with less effort.
    Not that he intended going for any long walks. He knew little enough of this world, could at present sense nothing of it, and the
Teacher
’s archive had been less than all-inclusive on the subject. He was, after all, embarked on a journey of some importance. Futile as that might seem, he was anxious both to be on his way and to avoid contravening any more of the Commonwealth restrictions that applied to a society like that of the Dwarra.
    Glancing back, he studied the curving side of the sham dune. “Good job,” he told the ship. “I can’t detect any sign of artificiality even up close.”
    “My work is invariably first-class,” the
Teacher
replied softly via a temporarily extruded external speaker disguised to look like a specimen of local vegetation. Its reply was a statement of fact. Artificial intelligences were immune to such weaknesses as false pride.
    “How long?” Even as he posed the question, Flinx was aware that his usual impatience would do nothing to accelerate their departure.
    “I told you. When it’s done. The ore here is of good quality and should be simple to process. While the amount of carbon locked in fossilized vegetation is located deeper, I will manage as necessary. Meanwhile, why don’t you try to relax?”
    Flinx made a low sound. “Like on Jast?”
    The ship sighed. That, it was programmed to do. “Like you are the first human to set foot on this world, a circumstance that is entirely probable. The climate is salubrious, the air devoid of pollutants natural or otherwise, and my sensors perceive nothing potentially dangerous in the immediate vicinity. While I would not advise going for a nude swim in