Deal with a Dhemon

by Viola Grace

  A few hours later Moran arrived to check on her. He activated the speaker and spoke.

  “General Kassil is having a problem with your accommodation. The doctor will not let you out of the tank for three days, and Kassil wants to leave now.”

  She gestured for him to continue. He looked at her in concern.

  “Do you think you will be ok, Sam? I know you took that hit for me, but your species is almost as sensitive as mine to the neural blasts. I still remember the last time you were hit. It took you months to recover.”

  She smiled slightly and wiggled her fingers at him to indicate that she would be fine.

  “Adal has moved your things to the warship. Well, she supervised. The General was very generous with your accommodations on board. You have a lovely suite with a private sanitation chamber. I think he gave you his best VIP quarters, so be nice.”

  She gave him a wicked grin, and nodded to indicate she would be on her best behavior.

  “They are working on the logistics of transporting you in the tank. A contingent from the ship, including the medical officer should be here soon. I have to get back work—there was a riot when your retirement was announced. The place is a mess.” He shook his head and looked mournful.

  “Take care of yourself Sam. Adal and I will really miss you. I want you to contact us as soon as you are settled. I mean it.” He pressed his hand up to the glass.

  She matched it on the other side. They shared a long look, years of friendship and understanding passing between them. Her hand curled into a fist and she gave him the closest thing to a Hunter salute that she could manage while tangled in the web of tubes.

  He straightened and echoed her salute, bowing deeply to indicate respect for a superior. Sam’s face curled into a wistful smile and she waved goodbye as he left her alone in medical. She thought that she may have cried as her friend left, but in the supporting liquid of the tank, who could tell?

  An hour later, a troupe of dhemons walked into medical, and with the help of some of the assistants, disconnected her tank. She was transported through the halls under guard. There were six crew members moving the tank, and twenty guarding it. A crew member that she had to assume was the ship’s doctor jogged alongside her tank, monitoring her vitals and taking notes.

  She was installed in the medical bay within the warship less than an hour after they had removed her from the station. She felt the engines hum as the ship left the docking bay.

  The ship’s doctor was bustling around her tank while they fell away from the station, verifying the umbilical to the ship’s systems. She was unable to talk with the liquid in her lungs, so was left with nothing to do as the engines engaged and they began their journey into deep space.

  Chapter 4

  Sam had nothing to do but sleep and dream. She found that her dreams were unfocused and heated, dreams of strong thighs moving between hers and strong arms holding her close as she climaxed. The dreams shocked her. She had never had dreams that…hot.

  Every time she dreamed she found herself writhing awake, her pulse pounding, and her eyes wide. The first time she dreamed, she woke to the entire medical team circled around her tank, taking measurements and checking her vitals. When she settled down, they walked away, laughing and shaking their heads. After every dream, she came awake to at least one tech standing in front of her, taking notes.

  It was two days later when she finally came out of the tank.

  Three medical techs helped her out of her private sanctuary, hauling her out of the liquid and putting her onto a bed quickly to remove the tubes that had been feeding and breathing for her.

  They worked fast, in a matter of minutes she finished throwing up the tank liquid and had rolled to one side, gasping for air. They forced her to lie flat, and ran diagnostic tools over her for several minutes before the doctor actually spoke to her.

  “You seemed to have recovered from the neural blast, Miss Samantha. There seems to only be a slight exaggeration of your sensitivity to touch and sound. Other than that, I see no reason why you should not make a full recovery.” He looked pleased with himself. She gave him a focused stare. His horns did not seem to have surfaced quite yet, but she could make out the bumps on his forehead, where they should be.

  Samantha tried several times to speak, then was able to croak out, “What about my arm?”

  “Ah, yes. The blaster injury. The tank seems to have done the job in that department as well. You may have some residual weakness, but you should be able to work it out.”

  While she had been in the tank, the techs had looked at her as a patient. Now that she was out of it, they were looking at her with a less than professional interest.

  She flushed slightly as she watched their eyes drift from her auburn hair, down her neck, lingering on her breasts, then down to her narrow waist and full hips. They had distinct looks of masculine appreciation in their eyes.

  She sat up quickly and almost passed out.

  “Do you have anything I can wear?” She kept her gaze fixed on her knees as she asked the question. Nudity didn’t bother her, as long as she felt safe with the person she was naked in front of. Like Adal and Moran. They had no interest in her physically. Therefore, she was perfectly safe in their presence.

  The gazes she was currently receiving were definitely not disinterested. And they in no way made her feel safe. In fact, they made her feel unaccountably warm. She recalled the dreams she had had and her golden skin flushed a hot bronze. One arm came to shield her breasts from their eyes, and she twisted her body away from them as best she could.

  A medical gown was put into her field of view by a strong male hand. Keeping her eyes averted, she shrugged into the clothing. She peeked up from beneath her lashes and found that all of the male techs had found other things to do besides ogle her. Directly in front of her was the General.

  “Doctor Carvio, how is she? Can she be moved from medical?” His voice was flat. He didn’t seem to be interested in the answer but kept glaring at the technicians where they huddled against the walls, pretending to check diagnostic machines.

  “Yes, of course General. I need to see her in a few days, or if she has any other side effects from the neural pulse, as well as give her a final checkup before we planet fall.” The doctor was once again checking his records. “I can send you a copy of her medical records if you wish.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Can she walk?” He seemed impatient, his burgundy skin flushing almost black in the bright lights of the medical bay.

  “You know, you could just ask me that.” Sam swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up on shaking limbs.

  “Ah, you speak Alliance Common, I wasn’t sure.” He shifted his focus to her, and she met his yellow eyes with her moss green orbs.

  “Of course I do.” She took a few steps on trembling legs. “Can I take your arm to the quarters you assigned me?”

  “Of course.” He extended his elbow and she took it gratefully, using him to balance herself.

  “Then we can leave now if you like, that way you can resume your duties without too much interruption in your routine.” Her face was blushing again, but she ignored her embarrassment and gestured for the General to lead the way.

  Slowly, painfully, she made her way through the halls of the warship with hobbling steps. General Kassil kept silent until they reached the VIP quarters. “Here you are. These quarters have a sanitary chamber, and a full wardrobe with clothing suitable to a female of Dhema.”

  “You travel with a wardrobe full of women’s clothing? Weird.” Her attempt at levity fell flat.

  “We knew that you would be accompanying us, clothing was arranged for you.” His voice was stony with disapproval at her little joke. “We travel for seven more days. Be comfortable.”

  The door slid open and Sam started in surprise. Inside there was another dhemon, sort of. Where the techs, the doctor and the general were definitely male, the being inside her new quarters was rather androgynous.
Instead of dark burgundy skin, his was a hot pink. His hair was combed straight back from his forehead, leaving his open and earnest expression exposed to the visitors in the doorway. Unlike the other males that she had seen, he —she assumed it was a he— had no sign of horns what-so-ever.

  “This is Etion. He will give you insight into the behavior and deportment expected of a lady of Dhema. He will show you how to dress, how to speak and the appropriate etiquette for any casual occasions.”

  Etion came forward and gave her a formal bow. “A pleasure to serve you Miss Samantha.”

  “Thank you for your escort, General.” She murmured to him as he led her into the room and helped to seat her on the bed.

  “My pleasure, Miss Samantha. I look forward to seeing you at dinner tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of the day.” He gave her a short bow and left the room with dignity and decorum she would have expected to an Alliance General.

  “Well, Etion. I guess it is just you and me.” She gave him a falsely cheerful smile. “What do we do first?”

  Chapter 5

  “Well, Miss Samantha, the first thing we need to do is get you out of that medical gown and into something more suitable to a lady.” He walked over to the wardrobe and began to haul out armfuls of fabric.

  Etion held up a chemise that was as concealing as a cobweb. “Ok, Miss Samantha, this is the first thing you put on in the morning. It keeps the more restrictive clothing off of your skin and makes it easier to clean.”

  “Alright,” She took off the medical gown and quickly reached for the chemise, slipping it over her head. “Why do you insist on calling me Miss Samantha? Sam is fine.”

  “All unmarried women are addressed as Miss. After you marry, you are addressed as Lady.” Etion came over and helped her to stand. The chemise fell to her ankles.

  “What if a woman chooses not to be married?” She sat back down and waited for the next piece of clothing.

  “She is addressed as Miss for her entire life. A Lady wears the bracelets given to her when she weds.” He added as an aside while he held up the next item of clothing. A corset.

  Samantha almost laughed aloud. She loved wearing corsets, the feeling of tight support holding her breasts at an unlikely angle, the warmth and security of the fabric. It was a reminder of home.

  She helped him snug the fabric around her and held onto the edge of the wardrobe as he began to tighten the stays. She felt slightly out of breath when he finished, but the familiar feel of the corset gave her comfort. She had not been able to locate one since leaving earth, and had not thought to bring one with her when she left.

  The petticoats went on with her simply stepping into the circle of fabric and Etion raising them to tie them around her hips. It was at this point that she got up the courage to ask. “So Etion, why do you look so different from the rest of the crew on board?”

  “I did wonder if you would be able to constrain your curiosity.” He smiled as he drew a blouse out of the wardrobe. “On Dhema there are three sexes. Male, female, and nyal. I have read your planetary history and I know that yours have only two sexes for most species.”

  “So you are nyal? Is that like some sort of hermaphrodite?” At this point she gave up trying to help him, and just balanced with her arms outstretched for him to dress her.

  “Yes. We nyal are a one in five birth. We are completely sterile, and as far as our scientists can tell, it is merely an evolutionary method of birth control.”

  “But are you happy? Can you take lovers?” Her mouth got ahead of her common sense. She once again blushed to the roots of her auburn hair.

  Etion stopped for a moment then began to laugh. He drew his hands away from the buttons on her skirt, and chuckled to himself for several moments.

  With him lost in mirth, she had no choice but to resume dressing herself. Sigh. The buttons on her jacket were almost done when Etion stopped his little jaunt into happy land.

  “You know, I have met thirty four species and you are the first one to ask me that.”

  He brushed her hands aside and re-buttoned her jacket properly. He then met her sober gaze with eyes a soft and mellow blue. “Nyal do take lovers, other nyal for instance. And occasionally a male of either our species or another.”

  “Not females?”

  “No, our systems are not capable of becoming lovers with a female. That is why we are found in the occupations as dressers, hairstylists, makeup personnel for special occasions. The men of Dhema are very possessive of their females. Even another female who may catch the eye of a wife or daughter is not welcomed into a household without a nyal present to supervise interactions.”

  “Wow, the best and worst of both worlds.” She stretched her limbs to determine the distance she could comfortably move her body. Not very far. The clothing was rather restricting.

  “Miss Samantha, please be seated and I’ll tend to your hair.” Etion gestured for her to have a seat at the stool in front of the tiny makeup mirror.

  Thirty minutes later Etion pronounced her finished. She stood and walked in front of the full length mirror on the far wall, she turned slowly to take in her reflection.

  “Oh, my god.” Her jaw fell open at the sight before her.

  She was wearing enough fabric to smother a Victorian maiden. The corset drew her already small waist to a tiny reflection of its usual size. The snug blouse and jacket highlighted the ample expanse of her bosom, while their high collars emphasized her delicate neck and jaw. Her hair was in a classic twist that highlighted her cheekbones and made her eyes gleam.

  The skirt swept the floor behind her, the layers of petticoats keeping any possible glimpse of her legs from the eyes of any passing males. She lifted the hem of the skirt ever so slightly and took in the sight of her feet incased in snug leather boots.

  She took a few experimental steps. It was like walking underwater, or with weights attached to her hips, and straps around her ribs.

  “All of your females dress like this?” At Etion’s encouraging nod, she took a few more steps and swept the skirt out of her way as she turned and tried again.

  “You look wonderful Miss Samantha. Every male on board will be suitably impressed. Now we only have to teach you to eat like a lady.” Etion was practically dancing with the change in her appearance.

  “I eat like I’m hungry. Ladies are never hungry, from what I hear.” Sam was slightly perturbed that he was picking on her eating habits. He must have spoken to someone at the station, her appetite was legendary.

  “Oh, they get hungry, but they eat in a delicate and proper manner while maintaining dignity and grace. That is a skill you desperately need to learn.” Etion was brutal, but unfortunately accurate in his assessment. She did tend to eat like they were going to take her food away.

  She thought about it for a moment, and felt that she could include this in her attempts to fit in to Dhema culture. Not that much food would fit into her stomach with the corset laced around her, anyway. She did have to admit however, that her posture was terrific.

  A few hours later Etion looked extremely harassed. His unending attempts to curb her appetite had been thwarted. She giggled at his defeated expression.

  “Look, Etion. Why don’t we try again tomorrow after I have tried to dress myself again? You look exhausted.” She had some sympathy for him. After all, he had been at this all day.

  “Do you think I can get out of these clothes myself?” She arched one of her brows at him.

  “Yes, I believe that you can, but please, hang them up after you take them off. Your nightgown is in that drawer over there.” He gestured off to the bureau beside the mirror.

  She saw him to the door, and didn’t let him know that she never slept with a nightgown. In fact, she rarely slept with covers on. She found the sheets smothering.

  Her skin was already chafing at the press of fabric on her body after three days in the tank. It was both sensual and irritating to be wrapped in clothing from neck to toes.

  Her feeble fingers
fought the buttons on her jacket. She seemed to be unable to undress herself after all. After several minutes of frustrated trying, she gave up. Her jacket had been removed and dutifully hung up. The rest of the tiny buttons were beyond her capabilities.

  She dropped onto her bed, exhausted and unsure of what to do now.

  When the door chimed that someone wanted admittance, she merely yelled, “C’mon in,” and flopped back onto the bed.

  When she saw her visitor she struggled to sit up and take up a more decorous pose. There was a distinct moment of flailing, but she managed.

  “General Kassil, this is an unexpected visit.” Finally, she got herself to the edge of the bed, and sat with her knees together and her hands in her lap, just like Etion had shown her.

  “Miss Samantha, I saw Etion in the hall, looking the worse for wear. I felt that I should check on you as well. May I add that you look lovely in that clothing?” A smile danced around his full lips. Considering that every other time he had seen her she had been stark naked, his complement was kind of funny.

  She flushed a hot bronze “Unfortunately, I think I was a little hard on Etion. I had no idea that your clothing was so complicated.”

  “Only the female’s clothing. The men get to wear loose trousers, a belt, loose shirts and boots. Occasionally with cloaks.”

  “Hey, no fair! I am wearing enough fabric to smother a Binat.” She gestured to the layers of fabric and he laughed.

  “I know, but you’ll be living among us, and adhering to our traditions and customs. The clothing suits you, however. You do look lovely in it.” His eyes heated and swept her from tip to toes.

  “Well, I am probably going to look good in it for quite some time. I can’t get out of it.” She laughed at the expression on his face as he realized that she was serious.

  “You seriously can’t undo the clothing?” He was both appalled and amused.