Vila knows she shouldn't. The Code forbids it. Lustful acts lead us away from the Great Mother, away from the Transcendent Unity.
And yet - feeling invigorated by the warm buzz of a few cups of kala - Vila realizes that sometimes one has to see the big picture. And so, as the slender silver-haired woman puts a finger between Vila's legs, Vila understands that in the great scheme of things, perhaps this union was meant to be. And as the older woman kisses her gently but fiercely, and Vila feels her back arch, she knows that she is destined to draw this beautiful, innocent woman - what did she say her name was? - into the sacred sisterhood.
As if reading her thoughts, the other woman whispers in her ear, "Tell me about your friends, dear."
"Oh, you'd like them!" Vila begins, and then hesitates, feeling a twinge of apprehension.
"I'm sure they're very pretty," the stranger prompts. And now that it's been mentioned, Vila realizes that several of the women in the Sisterhood are quite attractive; she's thinking of Wakha, and Eristhi, and especially the leader of the local cell, Lubindi - now she's a hot one, with that little mole just above her left breast and those amazing legs. Not that Vila spends much time thinking about those sorts of things; that would be sinful.
The images of Wakha, Eristhi, and Lubindi float in Vila's mind. The stranger strokes her, teases her. Stops.
"I'd like to meet them."
Now Vila understands that she's being tested. She must not, under any circumstances, mention the meetings of the 91 members of the local sisterhood every fortnight in Room 731 of the abandoned research complex. In fact, it would be better not to think about those meetings at all. Security breaches are not taken lightly by the Sisterhood. Like that young girl not long ago; she had to be dealt with. Regrettable, but necessary.
"Tell me about the girl."
The stranger's voice is suddenly changed; it's cool and firm and deadly. Vila is just about to come, but the stranger's finger stops in mid-stroke.
Vila's face is now pure desperation. Looking into her lover's steady gaze, she knows better than to say "What girl?"
Vila can barely speak at all; she begs in a wordless whimper. Her sexual craving is unbearable; she'd reach down and pleasure herself now, if her arms weren't pinned behind her back. The stranger is calm, authoritative, and consummately in control; the kind of woman, Vila randomly thinks, who would look good in a uniform.
"P-p-please ... " Vila gasps. "Could you take these off?" The handcuffs aren't fun anymore, and they're feeling awfully tight.
"I'll take 'em off when I'm ready," the stranger says, getting out of the bed and turning her back to Vila. "Tell you what, lady, I'd start talking now if I were you." The stranger reaches into the duffel bag she's brought with her, and starts putting on a fresh set of clothes. Oddly, from the back, it does look like some kind of uniform.
Vila doesn't like the way things are going now, not at all. But she doesn't see any way out, so she just answers the question, hoping it will make something better. "Taswa," she says numbly, "the girl's name was Taswa. ... " She draws a deep breath as the stranger buttons her shirt.
"Hey," Vila says, now beginning to panic, "you're not going to leave me here, are you? What's your name, anyway?"
"Garris," the Chief says, "the name's Garris. And you're under arrest."