Under the Eye of God by David Gerrold Page B

showing a mouth full of long white knives. The better to eat you with, my dear . . . . The grin became a nasty leer as the Dragon’s tongue flickered out; it glistened with a slick pale sheen, licking the air for the faintest taste of Ota. Its eyes took on a deadly glaze.
    Robin noticed. She couldn’t help but think, i t only wants permission . But she kept her face impassive.
    Ota merely met the Dragon’s cruel study with its own impassive gaze, an extraordinary act of courage for an animal the Dragons considered only prey ; but as the Executive Officer of the starship, Ota couldn’t allow itself to betray the slightest sign of weakness. It had to maintain absolute composure.
    A moment more and another Dragon stepped heavily in, Captain Naye-Ninneya, the Captain of the Lady’s Dragons, the largest and most brutal of the squad. Lady Zillabar followed him, sweeping imperiously into the center of the salon. She wore a cloud of seaspray blue and a cape of ghostly mist, all outlined in bright sunshine fluorescence that enhanced her ethereal beauty like a pale dawn. Nevertheless, it failed to hide the hardness in her eyes. She looked dispassionate as ever. She glanced about the salon, only casually noting Ota’s and Robin’s presence; she would not otherwise acknowledge their existence. She turned to the Captain of her Dragons. “And the Star-Captain?”
    Naye-Ninneya stiffened at attention. “I have no knowledge.”
    Lady Zillabar raised her eyebrow. She studied the Dragon coldly. “I see. . . .” She glanced away, as if it made no difference, though everyone present knew it did. The Phaestor had no word for failure; the closest concept in the Phaestor tongue implied betrayal, unworthiness, and incontinence.
    â€œExcuse me—” Ota stepped forward, looking calmly up into the eyes of the hungrier Dragon. “I have the honor to inform the noble presence that the Star-Captain will attend the needs of the Lady and her Guard at her earliest convenience. As soon as we complete the docking, she will present herself.” Having finished her recitation, Ota stepped crisply back into position. She omitted the bow; the Dragon might have interpreted the bow as presumptuous. Humans bowed; prey didn’t.
    The Dragon—the metal badge across its chest identified it as Kask-54—turned to its Captain to repeat the information in sharp guttural barks. Naye-Ninneya accepted the report and turned back to Lady Zillabar. “The Star-Captain will attend shortly—”
    The Lady gestured in annoyed dismissal. Excuses bored her. She parted her mouth slightly as she tasted the air; her expression became blank. She did not like the taste of this vessel. She did not like the manner in which this Captain operated her ship. She did not like the disrespectful treatment. She did not appreciate the underwhelming quality of the service. But neither did she like expressing her annoyance publicly.
    Even if she could have succeeded in making this trip in secret, she would not have enjoyed the passage. This starship stank . That she had endured this unpleasant journey all in vain only added to the annoyance that she felt—and now had to conceal. She would not sink to the level of her ill-mannered hosts. She would not say what she felt. Not here. Not now.
    The Lady would repay the insults, yes, but in her own way. The Lady MacBeth would suffer unexplainable mishaps for many years to come—until the Lady Zillabar grew bored with the game. 14
    Star-Captain Neena Linn-Campbell entered then. She wore her crisp black jumpsuit emblazoned with her Star-Captain’s brilliant gold insignia over the heart. She inclined her head in the curtest of bows. She intended to get this ritual over with quickly. “Lady Zillabar. We have docked with StarPort.”
    Lady Zillabar folded her hands and waited coldly.
    Captain Campbell gritted her teeth, swallowed her pride, and continued,