Dilemma’s Horns

© 2018 by Walter Reimer



“Varan?” Kiran paused at the light blue ‘danger’ strip that lit up a hand’s length before he strayed into the higher-gravity area. The station’s exercise area included an oval running track a full four beveki long, and Varan had increased the gradient to Terran normal. The vir had started off slowly, but was making her way around the oval at a good pace. She actually seemed to be increasing her speed.

That had Kiran more than a bit worried. “Varan!” he called out as she ran past him. The vir didn’t seem to be listening to him, but she must have seen him as her pace started to slacken.

It took her two laps to completely slow down, and she was breathing hard as she knelt on the track. Kiran gradually lowered the gravity back to Imperial standard before walking over to her. “Varan, are you all right?”

Varan panted openmouthed for several moments before huffing a few breaths from her nose and saying, “Gēzeret, Kiran,” the word bearing the vowel forms and stresses to signify that it was meant as an apology. “I was concentrating. Ernf, running in heavy gravity can be quite strenuous.” Sweat dampened her fur and her musk was very noticeable.

That, coupled with the fact that she’d been running wearing nothing more than a bandeau around her breasts, made Kiran glad that he was clothed. “Is there anything bothering you?” he repeated. “You’ve been aloof these past few days.”

The vir’s tail snaked out behind her as she sat back on her haunches, palms flat on the surface, and was silent before looking up at him. “I got a message from Meredith.”

“Not bad news, I trust?”

Varan smiled up at Kiran. “Kami,” she snorted as she got to her feet. “No, it isn’t bad news; not for her.”

Kiran waited, following the vir as she removed her bandeau and headed for the exercise area’s showers. He stopped at the entrance to one of shower stalls as she stepped in and set the water temperature to her preferences. Steam billowed as hot water gushed out of the stall ceiling and the vir’s fur swiftly started to get saturated. The kam took a step back to avoid getting splashed.

“Did she sing again?” he asked. “For a Terran, she had quite a nice voice.”

“Yes, and I was impressed that she’d learned A Dream of Two Hearts so well,” Varan agreed, “but she didn’t sing.”

“Aka, since the bad news isn’t about her,” he said as the water stopped, only to be replaced by several jets of liquid soap, and as they shut off Varan started to lather herself, “I will guess that it’s bad news for both of you.”

He watched appreciatively as her fingers scrubbed through her fur, leaving lines and whorls of soap behind. It was quiet aesthetic, and he felt his manhood twitch in interest. She glanced at him and said, “You guess correctly. She and I had been anticipating a reunion after the exchange program was resumed, but her superiors have offered her an appointment to their Fleet’s Command Academy.”

Kiran frowned. “That’s . . . unusual, is it not?”

“Yes. She told me that colonial officers rarely get appointed. The distinction is normally reserved for people from their core worlds,” Varan replied. She moved to the center of the stall and started rinsing the soap from her fur as clean hot water cascaded down on her. As soon as the last of the soap washed down the drain, the vir’s tail gestured at the controls and the water stopped.

A sound like a distant tornado began to be heard as Varan quickly squeezed the bulk of the water from her fur, and stood still as jets of warm, dry air began to swirl around her. Speech was problematic because of the noise, so the conversation stalled while the driers were working.

Varan stepped out of the stall and accepted a towel that Kiran offered her. She dried a few spots missed by the blowers as Kiran asked, “Did she ask for advice?”

“Twice.”

“Yes?”

“She asked for my opinion, whether she should accept the posting to the Academy,” Varan replied. “I counseled that she should accept.” She glanced at the shorter kam and said, “She’s Terran, I remind you, and it’s a unique opportunity for her to advance in their Fleet. She may even get her own ship,” she added, her tail looping.

He gestured his understanding. Varan also had ambitions of achieving command rank. She walked toward her locker and after admiring her retreating back for a moment he asked, “And the second piece of advice?”

The vir had pulled a uniform from the locker, and at his question she chuckled. “The game. This current level is . . . rather disconcerting.” She started to get dressed and his ears flicked in time to catch her muttering, “Cursed walking fungi . . . “

“I would have jumped at the chance myself,” Kiran mused.

“I know,” Varan replied. “Meredith wanted to come back here, but the opportunity was such that she asked for advice. Had it been anything less, I am certain that she would be waiting at Downtime for the Kith.”

“And you could sing duets.”

He couldn’t see her wistful expression. “G’reget, Kiran.”