A Covenant of Justice by David Gerrold Page B

and held it up before his tiny black eyes. In Phaestoric script—not Dragon—the note read: “I have information you may find interesting. At your convenience, I would appreciate your joining me on the bridge. Thank you. Commander ‘Ga Lunik.”
    The Dragon Lord recognized the inherent insult. The boy. The note. The phrasing. Even the use of Phaestoric writing over Dragon script. Everything. He smiled inwardly. The child learned fast. Perhaps too fast.
    Not a problem, he decided. The Dragon Lord looked down at the messenger, wondering if he should send him back with a reply or simply eat him. The latter action, of course, would represent extremely bad manners. On the other hand, considering the history of this whole voyage so far, the bizarre displays of the Lady and all the subsequent events that followed, the breach of etiquette that the accidental ingestion of a minor aide might represent, would cause only a lesser embarrassment when compared with all the other much larger breaches of etiquette so far. The Dragon Lord eyed the child suspiciously, decided that the meal looked neither attractive enough nor plump enough to justify the trouble it would cause, and allowed the Phaestor boy to return unharmed.
    After a suitable delay—after several suitable delays, each one long enough to represent a specific insult to the Captain’s authority—the Dragon Lord finally ambled out of his quarters and forward to the great bridge of the Lady’s Imperial Starship, The Golden Fury .
    The balcony of the command bridge loomed high above the main operations deck. The Dragon Lord stepped boldly out into the center of the bridge and waited. He had come to the bridge. He had come this far and would come no further. Commander ‘Ga Lunik must come now to him. He stopped. He stood. He struck a pose. Squat and stolid, he waited.
    And waited.
    And waited. . . .
    Commander ‘Ga Lunik stood at the opposite end of the bridge, drinking from a steaming mug. He listened to the reports of his aides. He turned and studied the displays on the deck below. He turned back to his aides. He issued several orders. He turned and noticed the Dragon Lord waiting for him. He turned back to his aides and chatted with them a while longer. He snapped his fingers and an insect attendant scurried up. He handed the insect the mug and waved it away. He glanced at the displays below again, studied them for a long moment. He conferred with a junior officer. At last, he completed all the many little tasks associated with running a starship and ambled over to the Dragon Lord.
    Commander ‘Ga Lunik smiled at the Dragon Lord. His expression revealed nothing of his inner face, it reflected only sincerity and concern. “Thank you for coming, my Lord.”
    â€œYou have information?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, we do. I thought you should know. Our Marauders have intercepted the Lady’s locater. Only the locater. Not the Lady. The rebels have . . . removed it from her body.”
    â€œThey have touched her? They’ve laid hands upon her flesh?”
    Commander ‘Ga Lunik kept his expression neutral. “I would presume so, yes. I cannot imagine any other way to remove the locater without a physical extraction.”
    The Dragon Lord snorted in fury. “They have soiled the Lady’s purity! Will their heinous offenses never cease?” He stamped around in circles, lashing his huge tail back and forth. For several moments, he gave one of his very best performances of offense and rage. When he finally came to a stop, he noticed that few of the Phaestor crewmembers had reacted, or even bothered to look up from their instruments.
    The Dragon Lord realized with chagrin that the Vampires had not accepted his performance as genuine. Indeed, apparently they had even expected him to demonstrate his rage. He hadn’t fooled them at all. Hmm. He considered killing a few, but the moment for that urge had