Under the Eye of God by David Gerrold

to look at, hard to see clearly. Lord Drydel moved behind the Lady, to stand as protector and consort. She glanced up at him with only casual affection, then she looked across the room at d’Vashti and said, by way of small talk, “I trust that you have taken the appropriate care of my vessel. As I recall . . . ?” She let her sentence trail off into ominous silence.
    d’Vashti returned her cold smile with an expression equally polite. He ignored the Lady’s sly implication. He had not specifically subverted the maintenance of her powerful war-cruiser; he had simply allowed the occurrence of a few small logistical delays, enough so as to ensure that the completion of several necessary modifications would not transpire in time for the Lady’s mission to Burihatin. A number of important replacement modules had mysteriously become unavailable. And the personnel who could have installed them in time had prior commitments elsewhere. d’Vashti had thought to neutralize some of the Lady’s grander ambitions, at least temporarily, by delaying her departure from Thoska-Roole and allowing him time to complete his own schemes. His plan had almost worked.
    Had d’Vashti’s subtle efforts not subverted the Lady’s intentions, the resources of her flagship would have given her efforts at Burihatin a significant advantage; instead the lack of those resources had seriously crippled her efforts. Under her original plan, she would have had the authority of her personal guard to enforce her wishes on the moons of the great ringed world, but her inability to provide transportation for them on her personal warship had brought her instead to a dependency on the sympathies of Burihatin’s local authority. d’Vashti believed that her possibilities for success had become problematic. She should not have gone.
    d’Vashti had expected her to recognize that. He’d expected her to cancel or postpone her trip. Instead, the Lady had secretly shifted her plans and secured other transportation— lesser transportation—and slipped away into the dark between the stars. She had opted for secrecy, and . . . as d’Vashti had expected, she’d failed.
    Now she had returned with vengeance in her mouth.
    She knew of his efforts on her behalf—and she hated him for those efforts. But, he wondered, did she hate him enough?
    d’Vashti put on his sincerest outer manner, the one he always used for dissembling. “You may rest easy, Lazy Zillabar. The previous state of affairs no longer maintains. We have punished the parties responsible. Those who failed to live up to the standards you require will no longer have the honor of working in your Stardock. As long as I have the privilege of this responsibility, you will never again have to suffer the indignity of seeking an alternate conveyance for your desires.” Behind the Lady, Drydel frowned at this double-edged reference. d’Vashti noted the other’s displeasure only in passing. “Your vessel now stands ready to carry you to the far reaches of the Cluster—and beyond—if you so choose.”
    â€œAnd . . . what punishment did you apply to those who failed?” The Lady asked with only the faintest show of interest.
    â€œThey fed the Dragons,” d’Vashti replied. “A task they executed with no small enthusiasm.”
    â€œYes. I can imagine.”
    The Dragon Lord belched loudly. Neither the Lady Zillabar, nor Lord Drydel, nor Kernel d’Vashti acknowledged his comment. Lord Khallanin looked as if he had fallen asleep; d’Vashti would have bet otherwise.
    The Lady’s gaze remained fixed on the rival of her consort. She understood the subtext of these events even better than the participants. Idly, almost casually, she let the nails of her right hand trace a delicate course up and down the line of her exposed cleavage. Precisely as she intended, the action drew d’Vashti’s