Over Dinner
© 2024 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  kittydee
(yes, I need to get that updated)



The tongs were personal property, not government issue, made of light but strong alloy and decorated with thin gold wire filigree. Guided by its owner’s hand, the tongs hovered over the body of a roast peschij, selecting part of the fish before they gripped and tugged a morsel of meat from near the backbone and transferred it to a shallow dish of spiced sauce.

Vesan k’Daridh moved the piece of peschij about as she smiled across the table at Varan. Her guest was wearing civilian clothes, a pair of baggy trousers and a sleeveless shirt that hung to her knees. A pair of soft shoes completed the ensemble. As host, Vesan was wearing trousers but had topped them with a gauzy robe whose intricate swirling pattern emphasized her breasts.

“I have read the action reports,” Vesan said as she fished the piece of meat from the sauce, gently shook off the excess, and brought it to her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before adding, “And as your superior I congratulate you, lir demef.”

Varan lowered her glass of smiss. “But.”

“Admiral k’Jan prided herself on her tactical acumen,” Vesan said. “You demonstrated to her that she had new things to learn. She had not been an active battle commander during the war.”

“Aka.”

Vesan eyed her over the rim of her own glass as she drank. Refilling her glass she added, “And I agree with her reprimand.” Her tailspur came up and wagged at the younger vir. “You took your role a little too far.”

“I have apologized for that,” Varan said as her own tongs picked at her own meal, “and of course she was correct.” She grabbed a piece of peschij and ate it, then selected another as she said, “Will your leave be ending soon?”

The older vir smiled. “One more fitness evaluation in two days, and I will be retaking command of the division. I have been exercising my new arm, and I expect to pass the evaluation.” She extended her left arm, placing the hand palm up on the table. “Feel the grip.”

Varan matched her smile and reached out. The two clasped hands and Varan felt her ears twitch as Vesan squeezed, not too hard but making the point that she had strength in her new limb. When the pressure eased, they still held hands. “I have missed you, demef,” Varan said.

“And I you.” Vesan leaned forward as she brought Varan’s hand to her face, and gently nuzzled the hand before releasing it. “I have not told you, but while I was in the hospital I went through the game module you sent me.”

“Aka? How did it go?”

“Several bad endings. I’ll replay them for you after dinner,” and the two viri laughed, “but my character has acquired the Vorpal Vibrator.” She said the two words in Terran Basic, no doubt mangling the pronunciation.

“I look forward to seeing it,” Varan said. “I have thought of attending Fleet Command Academy.”

“I agree completely,” Vesan declared. “You are young, you plan on making a career in the Fleet, and you have a keen tactical sense. But, my dear,” and she leaned across the table, reaching across the table to lightly grasp Varan’s chin as her tail went under the table to wind around Varan’s, “if you pass the Academy, I might just do everything I can to have you assigned to my staff – and chain you to my command chair to make sure no one else can get you away from me.”

Varan chuckled and leaned forward until their muzzles were almost touching. “I’m not certain that’s a threat.” Bondage as a fetish was not unknown among the Race, with their long-established attitude toward sexuality. “Should we finish dinner first?”

They both started laughing and Vesan released the younger captain. “Of course. The cook spent a great deal of time preparing it.”