The doctors on duty consulted, and decided to tank her. All of her clothing was removed. Life support was inserted and muscle relaxants and pain killers would be administered via the IV’s. With a splash and a sigh of relief, she found herself floating in the tank. Her body weight born by the water which was a gentle pressure on her sensitized flesh. Ah, comfortable.

Four hours later, her ride showed up and he was not impressed by what he saw. She was astonished. Sam had known that much of the mythology of her world was due to alien sightings, the species names becoming garbled over time. The alfar of the Admar, The angels of Enjels (wings and all), and here before her was a demon. Or more precisely a Dhemon. Of the planet Dhema.

She floated close to the glass of the tank and observed him at length. His hair was black, confined in tight braids that wove tightly against his scalp to fall in metal banded disarray beyond his shoulders. His skin was a fascinating shade of burgundy, and his eyes glowed yellow as they questioned the doctor. He was not happy.

Sam admired his strong physique, the corded muscle of his neck, leading down into shoulders wide enough to support a chest and arms that looked like they could crush her with one blow. Her gaze roamed lower to take in the columns of his thighs and was relieved to find that his feet were encased in boots and not the hoofs of legend. He did seem to have two tiny horns on his head, however, so she guessed that there had been some truth to the tales of the ancients of humanity.

Her hands pressed flat against the glass of the tank as she absorbed every detail of the representative of the race she was being hidden in. All-in-all he was an extremely handsome specimen. It would not be too arduous a task to spend time with others of his race, from a strictly observational point of view.

As the doctor waved his claws to the tank, she jerked back and hid her naked form as best as she could, with tresses of her hair and the blue liquid flowing in gentle currents around her. The dhemon turned to look at her floating in the tank and his scowl deepened. She could see the furious discussion that he held with the doctor, and the doctor’s gesticulating wildly as his assistant tried to translate.

The dhemon stomped out and Sam relaxed into the tank once again, sleeping as best she could with her body registering the lightest touch, even in the liquid.

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.

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