Jeanne G'Fellers - Sister Lost, Sister Found (32 page)

“We know.”

“Reesie?” Medrabbi poked her head through the curtain. “You ready to go? I’ve a meeting at dusk.”

“And I suppose you’ll be wanting your dinner first?” Elreese jerked her thumb toward Medrabbi and rolled her eyes. “Broadbacks are walking stomachs, aren’t they?”

“Taelachs are a large breed.” Medrabbi tapped her chest. “Some bigger than others.”

“Or at least we think we are,” teased Elreese. “Come on, we’ll eat in the common mess tonight.”

“But, Reesie,” whined Medrabbi, “I’m never sure what I’m eating there.”

“Like you take the time to taste.” Elreese gave Myrla’s hand a squeeze then followed her partner out the door, waving farewell to Archell and Rankil as she went. Genevic appeared before the door could close.

“Up to a couple more visitors?” she asked in a happy voice.

“What took you so long?” Rankil beckoned her friend inside. “Haven’t seen hide or hair of you in the last cycle. What’s up? Single life got you down?”

“Who’s single?” Genevic stepped inside, pulling along quiet Isabella. “I couldn’t let my junior bunkmate beat me to the draw.” She held a box in her other hand which she dropped in Rankil’s lap. “A get well gift from your squadron.”

“Very funny.” Rankil held the contents, a helmet, up for the others to see. “Whose bright idea was this?”

“I dunno.” But Genevic’s smile revealed her own doings.

Rankil couldn’t help but laugh. “I suppose I could wear it during mounted maneuvers.”

“You, nassieback, with your head?” Commander Stiles’s voice called through the cracked doorway. “Mind if I come in?”

“Please.” Myrla pushed Rankil back into her chair when she attempted to emulate Genevic’s attentive salute.

“Sit down.” Stiles pointed to her splotched tunic and leggings. “It’s my off day and Annya is having me fade out our grotto’s walls. Seems to be all the rage.” She glanced at the new apartment. “It does create a nice effect though. One might call it airy. But enough of me, how is my fissure-headed trooper doing these days? I had heard you got home. Thought I’d check in on you.”

“I’m much improved, Commander Stiles.” Rankil drummed her fingers over the helmet. “Was the gift your doing or Genevic’s?”

“Not mine. Wish it had been though.” Stiles snorted her amusement. “Pretty damned hilarious, unneeded though, considering what I came to tell you.”

Rankil frowned. “Now I know I’m down for a while, Commander, but Healer Augustus assured me that I’ll be the image of health in a few more cycles. Please don’t—”

“Your place among the Barrier is secure,” blurted Stiles before Rankil could finish the plea. “In fact, I’ve come to deliver your transfer orders.”

“Transfer orders?” Rankil’s hand flattened against the helmet. “But—”

“But nothing, junior.” Stiles’s eyes flickered with mischief as she handed Rankil a scroll. “As soon as Augustus releases you for the lightest of duty you are to report to Technician Maeminya aboard the star craft. Seems she wants you to try and fly the thing.”

“Me?” Rankil sat a little taller in her seat.

“You and one other.” Stiles produced a second scroll from her cloak and passed it to Genevic. “Seems Rankil’s reputation is well-known. Maeminya insisted on a copilot who could tolerate the pilot.”

“Now that’s a tall order, Commander.” Genevic winked at Myrla then grinned at Rankil. “But I suppose I am up to the job.”

“And it will keep you both from the battlefield.” Stiles added. “Your women will appreciate that.”

“To think,” Myrla whispered in Rankil’s ear. “You’ll be flying.”

“Who’d have thought?” Rankil tried to stifle a yawn, but it escaped anyway, alerting all present to her fatigue.

“Visiting is finished,” said Myrla in a tone that no one dared argue with. “Rankil needs her rest.”

“Time we were going anyway.” Genevic drew Isabella to her feet. “Well, partner,” she clasped Rankil’s hand. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“For new training,” said Rankil with a light sigh.

“Never ends, does it?” Genevic drew Isabella to the door, taking her to the home they could now without fear of separation enjoy as a couple.

Stiles glanced at the dwindling daylight when the door opened. “Annya should be expecting me for dinner about now,” she said almost absently. “Try not to rattle that head of yours, Rankil.” Then her face changed to full military decorum. “And, junior, don’t go running off on any more challenges. They’re bad for your constitution.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Goodbye, Commander Stiles.”

“Later, j—So long, Rankil.” Stiles closed the door behind her.

“You have many good friends, Rankil dankle.” Archell made his way to the kitchen. “Myrla, if you can get her to the bed, I’ll fix a tray so she can be fed.” He squinted. “Dawn brought some cheeses yesterday and Abbyegale dropped by with a pot of soup just before I left to get you.”

“You’re a blessing, Archie.” Myrla followed Rankil’s slow walk to the bedroom and helped her undress, assisting with her boots and leggings. Then, with her love safely in a nightshirt and between the blankets, she permitted herself a trip to the new privy. She had once used an experimental flushing privy near the Gretchencliff colony square, but had never dreamed the technology could be used on a wide-scale basis. The idea delighted her so much she had to pull the water release chain a second time, laughing aloud at the sound. She emerged from the water closet, washed her hands in the kitchen basin then returned to the bedroom. A dinner tray was waiting on her bedside table. “Where’s Archell?”

“Gone home,” replied Rankil through her mouthful of dark bread. “Said he’d stop by tomorrow after choral practice.”

“Then we’re finally alone?” Myrla dropped to the bed and removed her boots.

“Hello, what’s this?” Rankil pushed her tray to the side and stared hopefully at her love’s back.

“Your dinner will get cold.” Myrla loosened her hair from its binder. “Rankil?”

“Huh?”

“Eat.”

“How can I when—” Rankil sighed when Myrla stepped behind the dressing screen. “Prude.”

“Am I now?” Myrla peeked around the screen, exposing the shoulder bearing her tattoo.

“Hey! You had my symbol inked!”

“Yes, and you’ll have mine as soon as you’re healed.” Myrla stepped from behind the screen with a frumpy winter shirt hiding her curves. “Ready for sleep?”

“No,” mumbled Rankil when Myrla sat on the side of the bed and began eating. “You know what I am ready for.”

“Oh yeah?” Myrla pushed a phase that almost made Rankil

drop her tray.
So, I’m a prude?

I could be wrong.

Damn right you are
. Myrla dropped her phase and began to eat. “Now, finish your dinner.”

“Aw, My.”

“Eat.”

Tease.

Myrla rolled her eyes.
That’s all I’ll ever be if you don’t eat.

Rankil wolfed down her dinner then set the tray on Myrla’s knees. “Finished.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Then hurry up.”

“Don’t rush me.”

“Myrla, come on.”

“Why are you in such a hurry? Augustus said we’re not to do that until you’re better healed. No jarring motions, remember?”

“Please?”

“Would it be easier if I slept on the lounger?”

“You want me to beg?”

“Of course not.” Myrla finished her meal then stacked their trays beside the bed. “Turn down the lantern.”

“Might as well since you won’t let me do what I want.”

“Don’t be hateful.”

“Hmph.” Rankil dimmed the light then lay with her back to Myrla. “Goodnight.”

“Turn over.” Myrla touched her shoulder.

“I’m comfortable as I am.”

“I’m not, so please turn over.” Myrla pushed up on one elbow.

“Geez, My. Can you be any more impossible?” When Rankil brushed Myrla’s life braid from her face, Myrla grabbed her hand, placing it in a spot that would show her intentions.

“What?” Rankil rolled over.

“Don’t you know?” Myrla moved Rankil’s hand to her thigh. “What about this?”

“Myrla Rankils, you’re naked under that shirt!”

“As the day I was claimed.”

“But you just quoted Augustus’ orders. What gives?”

Nothing gives, my beloved.
Myrla threw back the covers to straddle her lover, pulling off the shirt as she encouraged Rankil to explore her.
Augustus said you weren’t to jar yourself. I am much gentler than that.

Is this some of that gentlewoman equality I’ve heard Wikkib talking about?
There were no inhibitions between them now, no uneasiness, only desire to find what they both ached for.

You have a problem with the concept?

Definitely not.
Rankil pushed Myrla down, drawing them together with the gentle swirl of her hips, deepening the contact with an arousing phase. Myrla clutched at Rankil’s pillow then arched back, moaning as white-hot pleasure shot through her body.

Yes!
Rankil’s pulse quickened as Myrla pressed harder, grinding them into complete oneness.
Yes, My. Yes.

Positively yes,
panted Myrla in their mutual link.
More.

Much more
. Rankil pulled Myrla up until her breast touched her mouth, taking nips timed with the urgent pursuit of her fingers. She caressed the folds surrounding Myrla’s clitoris, sliding between them then back, careful but persistent as she pushed against the final barrier between them. It soon gave way with a small shudder that remained lost in the pleasure and Rankil sank one then two fingers into her lover, relishing the wet that greeted her.
Much, much more
.

So continued the conversation until Myrla collapsed, quite tired and fulfilled, across Rankil’s sweating body. “That was stunning.” She ran her fingers up Rankil’s stomach, stopping to run quick circles around her breasts. “Thank you.”

“They say first impressions are the lasting ones. Did I say everything right?”

“And then some.” Myrla slid back to Rankil’s side, leaving their legs entangled as she placed her head against her lover’s shoulder.

“My turn,” she whispered and slid her hand between Rankil’s legs.

“But—” Rankil’s eyes rolled back, every objection concerning broadbacks not needing fading from her mind as Myrla began stroking her, deepening her phase, delivering a quivering peak that she repeated until Rankil lay a hand to her face.

“My head, we’d best—”

Myrla immediately dropped her phase and pulled back, her face awash with concern. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” assured Rankil with a smile. “I’m surprisingly pain free at present. We were just beginning to move too much.”

“Oh.” Myrla rested again on her chest. “Then I suppose it was best that we quit.”

“I suppose.” Rankil remained quiet for a moment then became troubled, worried by her lack of experience and the time they’d spent apart. “Was the phase all right? I never, I mean, didn’t—”

“It was perfect. Thanks for saving it for me.”

They lay in silence a while longer, Myrla reliving the pleasure in her thoughts as Rankil drifted in and out of sleep.

“Rankil?” Myrla’s whisper roused Rankil from the depths of her contentedness.

“Yes?”

“Next time I believe you should wear the helmet. A little jarring might be fun.” Myrla ran her leg up Rankil’s, pausing at the rise of her hip before trailing back down.

“You know,” replied Rankil. “It just might at that.” She lay awake long after Myrla fell asleep against her, reliving the events that had brought them together then tore them apart just to bring them together again. This time would be enduring, Rankil was certain. They were respected members of a community, a community whose numbers were growing exponentially, a community on the brink of phenomenal change.

“Well, Rankil dankle,” Rankil whispered to herself as healing sleep finally took hold. “You’re one misplaced sister who won’t be lost again.” She kissed the top of Myrla’s head. “You’re pretty damn lucky, pretty damn lucky indeed.”

Adner Colony.
Small colony in the Tekkroon clan named for Andrea Adner, an early Tekkroon clan leader.

Aut.
Taelach slang for Autlach.

Autlach.
Indigenous species to Saria II, the second planet orbiting Sixty-One Cygni, short and stocky humanoid species with dark features.

battle braid.
Taelach marker of battle victories and military rank worn in the hair.

birther.
A Taelach trained in assisting Autlach women in giving birth to a Taelach child, slang term used to indicate an Autlach woman giving birth to a Taelach child.

blood marking.
Tekkroon commitment ceremony (nuptials).