Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine

to any real extent?”
“Once or twice with my roommate Malley, a little play on a few, um, interesting dates maybe, but nothing like this. Why?” she asked, adding when Krell glared at her, “First Kimshee.”
Because you pleasure-phase to me with the sensitivity of a long-term lover jumped to Krell’s lips, but she clenched them tight, swallowing the words away as “curiosity” escaped her mouth. “New Kimshees typically are incapable of achieving such depth in a test phase.” She longed to add a few words about how personally gratifying it had been, but stopped short. The wake call sounded across the base as she spoke, disrupting the exchange. Krell rose as the noise faded. “Follow me.”
“First Kimshee Middle?” LaRenna trotted to keep up with Krell’s wide gait. “That was so unexpected that I have to ask. How close to . . . to . . .” LaRenna’s face scrunched as she struggled for the words. “You seem upset. If I did something wrong when we phased, I apologize.”
Krell never slowed, but she noticed, she noticed so very much. LaRenna, who was now almost running to keep up, barely reached midway on Krell’s chest, a size difference that made her all the more enticing. Krell hated her for that fact. “I was simply unprepared. It won’t happen again.”
“Yes, First Kimshee.” No matter how LaRenna tried to shake it off, there was a certain level of their contact that remained, a small piece of Krell that lingered on.
Krell’s face remained solemn though she was also aware of the bond. A small amount of LaRenna had permanently lodged in her mind and heart, tempting and satisfying her in a way she never thought possible. “After breakfast, you will report to Healer Wileyse at the medical complex.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with me, First Kimshee.”
“Your resulting discomfort is not my concern.” Krell paused long enough for LaRenna to catch up. “You’re to report directly after breakfast. Wileyse is expecting you.”
“Yes, First Kimshee.”
There was no further conversation between them during the walk to the galley or through breakfast, leaving LaRenna to wonder if the feelings stirring deep within her were justified. And Krell, fully enwrapped in overwhelming emotions that she must deny, could do no more than sip her tea and look away.

Chapter Thirteen
Beware the Kimshee in disguise.
—Autlach saying
Krell changed seats repeatedly then paced the room until she’d worn ridges in the ornate rug in Wileyse’s office. Finally, losing patience completely, she traipsed down the hallway to see if LaRenna was anywhere near presentable. Wileyse met her at the examining room door. “We’re all but done, First Kimshee Middle. She is changing as we speak.” Wileyse stepped into the corridor, making sure to jerk her heavy skirts free before the door shut on them. “We need to discuss your apprentice for a moment.”
“It all went well? Nothing’s wrong, is it?”
“Fine, fine. It went well. Not one word of complaint or even a flinch when she was fitted with the lenses, and you know how uncomfortable that can be.” Krell nodded for Wileyse to continue. “Physically, she’s strong. It’s her mental state I’m concerned about.” Wileyse’s voice often held an arrogant edge that made others feel they were being talked down to. Unfortunately, they usually were. “Her heart rate and blood pressure are elevated enough to indicate her post is stressing her. I want your assurance she can handle herself or I won’t approve her for duty.”
Krell hadn’t wanted anyone, least of all Healer Wileyse, to know about the phasing experience, but now found it necessary. She sighed.“What you’re seeing is the aftereffect of the rough start we had this morning. You see—”
“First Kimshee Krell Middle! Have you completely lost your mind?” Krell startled at the healer’s shrill reprimand. “Did you bother to read that woman’s records before you tested her?”
“Of course.”
“I mean her medical records, you dolt!” A frown pulled the corners of Wileyse’s thin, painted mouth.
“Number one, why would I read a student’s medical file? They’re confidential. Number two, I thought I told you never to—”
“Drop the tough act.” Wileyse pushed the high-glossed nail of her index finger into the tip of Krell’s nose. “I find it childish, bothersome, and unbecoming of your professional rank. If you had thought to read her medical history, you would have seen she’s been capable of high-level phasing since birth.”
“Impossible!” Krell swatted away the intruding finger. “The only ones capable of phasing from birth are true females, and none of them are old enough to have completed the Training Grounds.”
“Wrong!” Wileyse took great personal satisfaction in the correction. “Wrong! Wrong! WRONG! Your student is one.”
“Where’s her file?”
They went back to Wileyse’s cluttered workroom so Krell could read the fine details of LaRenna’s medical history. A single entry at the bottom of one of the screens repeated what the healer had said.
SUBJECT DEVELOPING PRIMARY SEXUAL CHARACTERISTICS DISTINCTIVE TO THOSE OF AUTLACH FEMALE. CAPACITY FOR REPRODUCTION CONFIRMED. NEW TAELACH VARIATION DEFINED—TRUE FEMALE.
Krell handed the recorder back to Wileyse. “So, she was the first.”
“Yes, she was.” There was a hint of superiority in the healer’s tone. “So, I wouldn’t phase with her again unless I was up to the level of control it demands. She’s vulnerable, hasn’t a notion of what she’s truly doing, and would be an easy target for someone without discretion.” Wileyse’s arms were folded across her small, rounded chest and she drummed her fingers knowingly against her bony elbow.
She knows more than you’ve the capacity, thought Krell as she taunted Wileyse in a low tone. “Are you implying that I can’t handle myself?”
“Kimshees are never much for control, discipline, or commitment when it counts.” Wileyse’s distrust was common among well-off Taelach families. Kimshees were considered a necessary evil, reckless in their manners and morals. They spent far too much time among Autlachs, picking up the worst of their mannerisms.
“Sounds like a comment from a disgruntled ex.”
“It is.” Wileyse sneered. “One who knows your fear of commitment.”
“Commitment wasn’t the problem with you, Tatra