Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [71]
“In some ways, yes,” Picard told him, “but sentient and undeniably aggressive.”
“But still lizards nonetheless,” the Dragon insisted, “so they can hardly be the terrifying warriors you describe. Lizards are soft and useless creatures, scarcely even edible, although there is one delicious little recipe …” His voice trailed off as his bleary eyes searched through the kitchen around them before abandoning the quest. “Anyway, surely the mighty Dragon Empire is capable of scaring off a few lizards in spaceships?”
“They have more than a few ships,” Picard argued. “Close to a hundred in fact. And the G’kkau are far more fearsome than you imply. To our certain knowledge, they have razed dozens of planets already.”
“Danger or no danger,” the Dragon said loudly, “honor demands that we remove them ourselves. Indeed, if they are as ferocious as you say, it is all the more important that we comport ourselves fearlessly.”
Picard felt as if he were slamming into a brick wall at warp speed. Was there no way to convince the Dragon to accept the Federation’s aid before tragedy struck? “Your commitment to honor is more than admirable,” he tried again, “and Starfleet has no intention of impugning your courage. We—”
“Enough!” the Dragon said sharply, his patience clearly exhausted. “If you have nothing new to say, I do not care to continue this discussion any further.” A scowl marred the Emperor’s usually jovial expression as he glared sullenly at the gameboard. Picard feared that he had worn out his welcome, a fear confirmed by the Dragon’s very next words. “The hour is late,” he declared, yawning theatrically. “Perhaps we should continue our game another time?”
Under other circumstances, Picard would have liked nothing better than to abandon the pointless game and retire for the evening. Unfortunately, the treaty remained in doubt and the assassin was still at large. How can I continue to guard the Dragon, he thought, when I am so obviously about to be dismissed? “Are you sure, Excellence? I feel I still have so much to learn about the proper playing of ch’i.”
“Perhaps another time,” the Dragon replied. “I fear I am keeping you away from your duties, Captain, not to mention your rest. No doubt your many concubines await you.” Picard began to protest, but the Dragon had stopped listening to him. “Ah, woe is me,” he said, his words clearly directed toward Troi. “A poor old man, all alone in this world of thieves and scoundrels, with no one to keep him warm at night… .”
“I find that very hard to believe,” Troi said. “You are the Dragon, after all.”
“Well, nobody new anyway,” he said shamelessly, unfazed by the stern and disapproving expression that came over Picard’s face. “Perhaps, if your captain would be so generous as to do without your company tonight, you would care to inspect the Imperial Bedchamber, also known as the Nocturnal Temple of One Thousand Concupiscent Delights?” He rubbed his hands together eagerly.
That’s it, Picard thought angrily. “Excellence,” he said firmly, rising to his feet. “I must object to—”
To his surprise, Troi interrupted him. “I would be happy to accompany you, Most Excellent and Exalted One, provided that is acceptable to my lord and master Captain Picard.” She winked at Picard, who found himself momentarily speechless. He thought he knew what Troi had in mind, but still …
“Deanna,” he said quietly, too low for the Dragon to hear, “you don’t have to do this.”
“Don’t worry about me, Captain. I can take care of myself—and the Dragon.”
Troi was volunteering, he realized, to watch over the Dragon for the night and keep him safe from lurking assassins, but Picard couldn’t see how she would be able to do that without exposing herself to a compromising situation. “Is there anything I can