Consolation and Consent
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2021 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  technicolorpie

Prompt: license


There hadn’t been much conversation.

Nor, much to their mutual surprise, was there any sex.

Varan had accompanied Meredith and Fuji to their rooms aboard Magus Station, the vir managing to ignore the looks they were getting from passers-by. Once the door had been closed, she remarked, “I am not accustomed to that.”

“What?” Meredith asked.

“Some of the Terrans we passed on the way here. They looked afraid of me.” She set aside her clothes and stood gazing pensively at the carpet, her tail swishing idly.

Meredith stepped up to face her. “Yarra, lir demef,” the mare said, “some are afraid of you. But they trust you. The Kashlani are protecting us from the Confed, and the Empire’s obviously finished with using a light touch.” She reached up and placed a paw on the side of the vir’s face. “Do I look afraid of you?”

Varan smiled. “I hope you never do, beloved.” She sighed. “Excuse me, I need to use the garderobe.” Gently taking Meredith’s paws in her, she briefly nuzzled the golden palomino before walking over to the lavatory, closing the door behind her.

Meredith was looking at the door when Fuji entered from the bedroom, his tail curling slightly. “She okay?”

His lover sighed. “We just need to let her get through this.” Her ears swiveled at the sound of rushing water, and a few moments later Varan emerged. “You look tired, Varan.”

“Very observant, Meredith,” the vir chuckled. “You and Fuji look tired as well.”

The two Terrans glanced at each other, and Meredith said, “We were at Indawo.”

The vir’s ears perked. “I was at Lalande, as you know.”

Fuji nodded. “All three of us are tired, so I think we go to bed.”

“And sleep?” the mare teased.

“Yes,” the Komodo monitor yawned, and all three of them went into the bedroom. Several moments later, the lights dimmed, and most of them went out.


***


Meredith awoke with a start. The A Quiet Life had been too far away to see the bombardment of Indawo, but everyone had seen video of it taken from one of the Mars Ultor’s escorting destroyers. Her dream had put her on the ground, looking up and seeing the streak of light coming straight at her like the finger of Deus Itself, to crush her out like an insect . . .

She shook and sat up, knees drawn up to her chest and paws wrapped around her calves. On the far side of the bed, Fuji lay quiet, sleeping soundly.

Why he drooled in his sleep, the mare could never figure out.

It took a few seconds to get herself under control and dispel the dream, and when she was finished she noticed that Varan was not in bed with them. The mare’s ear cocked, and she could barely make out sounds coming from the garderobe.

She eased out of bed and made her way as quietly as possible to investigate.

Varan looked up as Meredith appeared in the doorway. The vir had a tired frown on her face, and her fingerclaws were extended. “Hello,” she whispered.

“Narchak. You painted your claws again.”

“Ernnh? Aka, yes. The shade appealed to me,” and she held her hand up to show off the glossy black paint job. “I . . . I had a bad dream.”

“So did I,” Meredith said. “It must be so hard, not being able to forget.”

“It can be.” She held her hand out, and took the mare’s paw. “I’ll ask the admiral for leave in the morning. I want to go home.”

“I’m sure your family will be thrilled to see you.”

“I think they will.” Varan smiled. “Do you want to go back to bed?”

The mare yawned. “Yeah, I think so. Norin tar lō, lir demef,” she said quietly, “tis tovode ne’ aane mef.”

Varan smiled. Meredith spoke Kashlanin so well, a far cry from when they’d first met. She stood and let her lover lead her back to bed.


***


Fujiwara Castro blinked, blinked again, and became aware that his bladder had stopped asking politely if he would please get up and relieve himself, and was now demanding that he wake up. There was an ‘or else’ there, but the organ wasn’t able to articulate it.

The Komodo monitor slowly rose to a sitting position and rubbed sleep from his eyes before seeing that Meredith and Varan were twined together face to face, both sound asleep. The bull smiled and got to his feet, treading carefully to get to the garderobe.

That done, he glanced at the clock and sighed. It was nearly eight in the morning, station time; as far as he knew none of them had any appointments, but breakfast would probably be welcome. “Hey,” he said quietly, repeating the word in Kashlanin. “’Ik.”

Varan’s ears perked, and one honey-brown eye opened, the feline pupil dilating and narrowing as she focused on the bull. “Ernnh, Fuji?”

“It’s about . . . second cycle, or thereabouts,” Fuji replied after some fast mental gymnastics. “I’ll order breakfast if you two want to get up.”

Varan craned her neck to see that Meredith had her head pillowed between the vir’s breasts. “Please,” she said, and Fuji smiled, leaned in close, and kissed first Varan and then Meredith before going to his pile of clothing and fishing out his padd.

By the time breakfast arrived all three of them had gotten showered and dressed. Varan took a bite of her rupma’ and remarked, “The station’s gotten much better at making this.”

“Do you think they hired a Kashlanin cook?” Fuji asked after swallowing a portion of his omelet. It was a mark of how comfortable all three of them had gotten that there was less than a meter separating Varan’s table from where Fuji and Meredith were sitting.

“It could be,” the vir replied, “or a Terran cook’s learned from a very good shlan. The zh’rekk’s fermented just right,” and she took another bite of the bread.

“If you have free time after you request your leave,” Meredith asked, “would you like to go into the game with me?”

Varan thought about it as her tail gestured affirmatively. “I would love to,” she said. “We have to get past the Great Teacher.” She smiled. “I think I’ve figured a way around the ‘no weapons’ rule at the nude beach.”

“Really?” Meredith grinned and put her fork down as Fuji listened while still eating.

“Yes. I can memorize a spell or two, and give those things in the lake a nasty surprise.”

“That’s great! We have to break that level.” She glanced at Fuji, who was drinking the last of his coffee. “What do you want to do today?”

“Some shopping,” the bull replied, “and maybe take you both out to dinner.” Both of the females smiled at that, and Fuji had been about to add something when Varan’s padd trilled for attention.

The vir fished it from her uniform pocket and unfolded it. “G’Raf – Narchak, nurfrelen.”

The subadmiral in charge of the Empire’s station in the system smiled. “Narchak, Gartabin. I wish to see you in my office at third cycle.”

“Of course, sir. Third cycle.” The screen went blank and she folded the padd. “I may have to miss dinner, depending on what happens. The subadmiral will likely want to go over my action report. I pointed out several things that could be improved, and my actions following the battle.” She picked up her glass of fruit juice. “And I will ask him for home leave.”


***


“Gartabin g’Raf reporting, sir,” and Varan saluted as soon as she had stepped into the subadmiral’s office.

“Please come in and sit down, Gartabin.” She did as instructed as the kam continued to study the hologram of the Kith as it hovered over his desk. The depiction showed the ship with the piece of the Shandian’s hull still sticking out of it, and Varan forced herself to sit still and view it dispassionately.

“Your sensor logs point out that the hull fragment had a minimal aspect until it was too late to evade it,” the kam said.

“Yes, sir. I have recommended refinements to the sensor coverage to eliminate that issue.”

“Your recommendation was endorsed by our analysts. The Kith is an L-class patrol cruiser, and the L-class is over fifty years old.” He smiled. “My first posting was aboard an H-class patrol cruiser, and I was always amazed at how the engineering staff kept from flying apart . . . ernnh, you did well in prioritizing weapons and shields.”

“We were still in a battle, sir.”

He gestured comprehension. “Your Surgeon-mistress’ fitness reports on you state that you have suffered from battle stress in the past.” Their eyes met. “Are you experiencing the same symptoms now, Captain?”

“Yes, sir.” It was a simple statement. “I am planning on asking you for home leave while the Kith is being repaired – “

He raised a finger, and she closed her mouth. “I am very surprised that Gartabin k’Jen didn’t order you and the affected members of his crew to rotate home – aka, here is the Surgeon-mistress’ recommendation, and her protest when he declined to endorse the recommendation. I wonder why.”

“Sir?” He looked across desk and through the image of the damaged cruiser as Varan said, “Gartabin k’Jen may have felt that time at Station NZh-2233 or here was sufficient.”

“Nevertheless, he should have not contradicted the surgeon.” He sat back and the image faded away. “Gartabin, you have been associating with a Terran, Meredidh Destkort.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you trust her?”

“Yes, sir.” His ears flicked. “She invited me to her family’s dwelling on This Far. Her mother served me she’ehkīj, and I experienced a . . . a battle stress-related reaction to the associations around the dish.”

“And those associations?”

“My mother used to make that for me when I was a child. Meredidh’s family made me welcome, and her father told me that if I ever needed someone to talk to, they would welcome me.”

“They show a great deal of respect and trust, and you return that,” he concluded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Aka. And your home world is Chadan?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I am authorizing one hundred days of home leave for you and every one of your crew, Captain. We have enough ships and crews coming into the conflict that one cruiser will not be missed.” He smiled. “Dismissed, Gartabin.”

Varan stood up and saluted. “Nurfrelen,” she said, and she left the office.