17
A QUICKENING TIDE
bristling hairs in his nostrils.
“Felicity,” he said, addressing the joyless Knott beside him, “you see, I have tried my best with this…this upstart tadpole, but my hands are tied. I’m afraid we must review the entire mission statement—and on the re-cord. I can do nothing else. The Manual is quite clear.”
She nodded and regarded her nail from a new angle with her one good eye. As the Provost Marshal spoke into an intercom, is-suing orders and summonses, she glanced up and surveyed Durante from top to tail. Durante stared straight ahead, pretending not to notice her basilisk gaze.
* * * *
An hour later, Durante sat listening as Commander Knott read again from the doc-uments that defined her own and her depart-ment’s role for the duration of the voyage.
This time,
