“Sòngyáng shì wŭng Shénfù,” Copper said as he closed the door, sequestering himself in his prayer closet. “Praise be to God.” The room he used for prayer was, at one time, a refrigerated storage area, inside of a small storeroom outside of Looking Glass’ infirmary.
When he’d come aboard ship to become its medic, they’d offered him his choice of the guest berths. Instead, he’d taken over the small storeroom, moved in a single bed and some modest furniture, and emptied out the broken-down refrigeration unit. A Shepherd’s quarters didn’t need to be anything opulent, and the berths, while far from majestic, were better served for transporting paying customers.
He knelt in front of the utility ottoman that he’d stripped down and turned into a makeshift altar, and lowered his head...Read More