by Mary E. Lowd
The spines on S'lisha's neck twitched, but she kept them from extending into a thorny display of her anger. The spaceship captain wanted the boxes of robot arms on his cargo deck rearranged yet again. If he'd explained himself clearly in the first place, it would have saved so much time. S'lisha seethed silently and imagined crushing the spaceship captain with his own cargo.
"Wow, the captain sure got on your nerves," Malcolm said. "You looked like you wanted to tear his head off."
S'lisha had been working with Malcolm for several months on this ship, and the small human had an uncanny knack for sensing her emotions. However, she'd researched it, and humans weren't actually telepathic. He was only guessing. He could prove nothing.
"Are you afraid of me?" S'lisha said. Usually, she clammed up when Malcolm called her on her emotions, afraid of playing into the violent stereotype of her species. She'd been told that they looked like miniature dragons to humans, whatever that meant.