CHAPTER ONE

 

As he carefully cut away clothing to expose the Commandant's wound, Xander meditated for perhaps the thousandth time on fate, time, chance, and how and why he'd wound up as a so-called "trustee" prisoner of war halfway across the known world from his birthplace. The august Herodicus, his teacher at the school for physicians in sunny Cnidus on the Aegean coast, had assured both him and his parents that he showed great promise as a healer if only he could cut down on his drinking and gambling and learn to act his age, and yet now here he was in the middle of this backwoods barbarian military outpost off the eastern coast of the Black Sea perhaps never to see parents, brothers, sisters, or homeland again. Be an Army surgeon and travel the world, his hoi aristoi gambling, drinking, and whoring buddies had urged him. What none of them had even thought about was that the Greek Army, in whatever form it took from place to place and war to war, boasted no formal medical corps. A doctor had to go on his own to seek out a troop, most having no more than a hundred hoplites at its full strength, that would pay for his services, and attach himself to it for whatever living they were willing to give him.

That, along with some usurious and very aggressive creditors in Cnidus he was anxious to get behind, was the reason he'd fallen in with the company of mercenaries that had slowly worked its way up, down, and across Asia Minor the past half decade, the band attaching itself to any city-state looking for an unruly gaggle of hired cutthroats to do dirty deeds dirt cheap. Yet everything hadn't been bad for him. Herodicus had insisted that his students keep up a regimen of vigorous exercise for the sake of their own health, and the strength and stamina Xander had developed in his arms, legs and shoulders stood him in good stead with this rough-and-tumble crew. After a little practice he'd found that, in addition to serving as battlefield surgeon he could wield a sword and axe, if not a bow, almost as well as any other man in the company. Too, he'd found it necessary to learn a baker's dozen more languages and dialects than he'd ever known existed-invaluable to him in his present situation among these Black Sea barbarians. And added to all this was the fact that he'd been forced to come up with a great many new remedies on his own from whatever native plants he could find in the regions he'd passed through. If he ever saw his classmate Hippocrates again, Xander reflected, he could surely make him turn green with envy over his discoveries, though like as not Hippocrates, who had the writer's bug, would simply appropriate Xander's discoveries for himself and set them to clay tablet or papyrus as his own.

Still, Xander was looking forward to trying out one of his new creative remedies on the case that now presented itself, and who knew? It might put him in a better position to bargain for rights within this tribe of warriors that had taken him into its custody after it had nearly annihilated the mercenary group he'd been with and sent the few survivors packing back west with their tails between their legs. The Commandant had intended to put him on burial detail with the rest of the defeated mercenaries but after observing him patching up his wounded fellows, and their rapport with him, figured that the victors might find it advantageous to keep a trained and qualified Greek healer on staff. Depending on how you looked at it the barbarians had either captured or halfway adopted him but either way he was still a prisoner of war.

"Uh... is it bad?" the Commandant asked between nervous swallows and apprehensive glances over her shoulder, trying her best to keep the edge out of her voice and her luxurious long brunette hair out of her dark almond-shaped eyes. Amazons prided themselves on being as tough or tougher than any male soldiers they came up against, and as far as Xander was concerned they'd proven their mettle to the full against him and his band of Aegean miscreants. Still, his medical experiences had taught him that when faced with the surgeon's knife no warrior, either male or female, could be completely dispassionate and so he tried to be encouraging.

Carefully slicing and peeling the Commandant's tight chamois skin trousers down and away from her wound to reveal a set of attractive buttocks thick, firm, and curvy with saddle muscles, he replied, "No, not at all, Madame Commandant. I assume your assailant was on horseback and you were on your feet. The arrow appears to have entered the meaty part of your left buttock from above, at a slightly acute angle and toward the lateral, and while I have no doubt it's damned painful I don't think the arrowhead's entered the muscle very deeply. Looks almost like a stray shot. If your attacker had been at full draw and shooting straight the thing could have passed right through your gluteus maximus, medius, minimus and hipbone into your bladder and even out the front, and that would have kept you off a horse for good-if you were to survive it at all following what would be, at your luckiest, a long, long convalescence. I've seen such things. And this is to say nothing of what might have happened with your lungs or kidneys or what not if the arrow had hit you in the back instead of your behind. But I don't think this was malicious. It looks more accidental-"

"I know it was accidental!" the Commandant spat impatiently with another irritated shake of her dark thick mane, her sloe eyes snapping. "The girl has no malice in her whatsoever! While I was trying my best to stay still and keep from dancing and hopping around in pain she jumped off her horse and told me she'd merely been trying out her Parthian shot, without even taking aim at anything! My poor ass was simply in the way! Despite her late mother's and grandmother's military reputations, she's without doubt the clumsiest, most accident-prone young wench I ever had the misfortune of trying to train. And this is the result! I've always taken such pains to maintain my dignity in front of my soldiers, and without even trying she wounded me in the most humiliating way possible! I look like I've sprouted a tailfeather!"

Xander, sitting on a stool behind her and rather enjoying the view as she leaned over his exam table, dropped his head and bit his lip hard so she wouldn't catch a grin on his face. He imagined that the young combat trainees who'd helped the poor Commandant limp from the archery butts-how ironic the name "archery butt" sounded in this situation-at the trainees' practice ground to the surgeon's yurt nearer the middle of the encampment, had had the same difficulty keeping their composure. He carefully lifted the wounded buttock with his left hand and palpated the arrow shaft with his right. The Commandant hissed and squirmed, standing on her tiptoes in the high boots that, along with skintight trousers, short, sleeveless chiton or chitoniskos belted snugly at the waist, tight leather corset across the breasts under the chitoniskos and bareheaded rather than sporting the felt cap that was the only article of clothing that didn't enhance its wearer's sexuality, were part and parcel of an Amazon warrior's dress. The offending arrow had put a hole only in the very tail of the chitoniskos, but the chamois trousers beneath it were past mending. Xander simply finished slicing the thin cured hide from around the tops of the Commandant's boots, and the fabric fell gently around her feet.

"Those were my favorite trousers," she sighed morosely as she looked over her shoulder again, but then Xander could feel her stiffen and shudder slightly. "I, uh, suppose you'll want to go ahead and yank the damned thing out now and cauterize the wound?" The edge returned to her voice. "Well then, make it quick! Have you got something I can bite down on? Gods know how many of my trainees are waiting outside this yurt and I'd rather die than have them hear me cry out!" No denying now that she was scared. Sweat beaded on her forehead, upper lip, and lower back but, strangely, it seemed to make the full body perfume made from pounded cypress and cedar twigs and frankincense resin mixed with water that she and all other Amazons wore, just that much more fragrant and alluring. Xander wasn't about to let her know he'd picked up on her fear, though. A Commandant was a Commandant, after all, and this battle-hardened Amazon officer was generous, as ready to reward as she was to fight and punish. And just maybe if she got in the mood for it, the rewards might prove to be very rewarding indeed.

"Madame Commandant," Xander began carefully, "I propose an experiment here that may alleviate much, maybe even most, of your pain. You're familiar, no doubt, with the so-called 'nerve root' I've introduced to your troops to chew on for toothaches, and the younger girls for when they cut their wisdom teeth?"

"Of course, but how does nerve root apply in this case? My source of pain's nowhere near my teeth!" grumbled the Commandant with an irritated wiggle, making her "tailfeather" dance provocatively. She winced and hissed again softly as she felt the embedded arrowhead move in response.

"A good-sized root, held in the mouth long enough, will numb the gums to the point that a tooth can be pulled without pain. I've done a couple of extractions like that for your soldiers, although for the most part I've never seen healthier teeth than in Amazons. All the apples you eat, I guess. The main trouble occurs afterward, because the mouth is so numb a patient can accidentally bite her tongue or inner lip without knowing it before the effect of the root wears off. Nerve root's that strong when you use it effectively. But now, ah," he paused a moment to gather up his courage, "let's say that I tried to put a piece of nerve root somewhere in close proximity to your wound, in a place where the numbing effect might transfer itself through the tissues to reach it..."

The Commandant arched an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder again at Xander. "What in Tartarus are you talking about?" she demanded. "Where could you put a piece of nerve root where it would do any good whatsoever to... to..." Suddenly two and two put itself together and she blushed bright red, something that none of her troops, let alone the young doctor, had ever seen her do. "Oh!" she gasped. "You mean... it would go up my... up my... err... you know?"

"Madame Commandant, would you be willing to serve-err, no, I worded that poorly, sorry-to participate in a bold experiment for the sake of medical science?" countered the physician, trying his best to be submissive, diplomatic and persuasive all. His face was a study in earnestness.

The Commandant scowled at him in return. "You'd better be on the up-and-up about this," she snapped, "because I'm not about to let myself be taken advantage of, no matter how handsome and well-hung you are, Greek!" She raised herself up on tiptoe again, grunting a bit as she grasped her xiphos sword from the scabbard she'd untied from her belt and hung from a nearby peg on a yurt pole when she came in for treatment. She twisted her supple waist and brandished the weapon at him convincingly. "If I suspect anything untoward, off comes your head and part of your shoulders, and I mean that literally!"

Xander knew she meant business but met her gaze squarely. "Kill me and you'll have to ask somebody else what to do about that arrow," he shot back. "but if you think I'd be so unprofessional as to act that way with one of my patients, Madame Commandant, you'd better go ahead and start swinging your sword."

The Commandant's scowl deepened for a second, but she appreciated boldness in others and relented. "You're not at all submissive by nature, are you? You actually make yourself sound like you mean it," she mused out loud. "But I have to admit, I'd rather deal with a man who regards submission as the lesser of two evils any time than with an unctuous, hypocritical sycophant."

"Madame Commandant, between yourself and yours truly I regard myself as the more evil. Therefore to me you're the lesser of two evils," Xander parried. "And besides that, I know who's boss, and the boss has my respect. Trust me, your ass is in good, responsible hands."

Finally the Commandant flashed a surprisingly soft and pretty smile. "All right, Doctor, you've talked me into it. Kill my pain and treat me," she said softly as she rested her torso on her elbows, cupped her chin in her hands, closed her eyes, and gave her wounded bottom another seductive little twerk. "Ow! Wiggles are a mistake right now!" she complained mildly.

"Very well, Madame Commandant. First I'll need to prepare you in a small way," he answered as he applied a dollop of olive oil onto his right thumb and slowly and carefully massaged it into her rosebud, prompting a gasp and one more slight twerk.

"You've got to quit making me jump like that!" she complained, "although that felt better than I probably should admit. I've heard about you Greek boys' ideas of pleasure..."

Looking over his supplies, Xander found and grasped the right-size nerve root, about the length and width of a baby carrot, from his sack of herbs and twisted and crushed it with a knife handle to release the juice therein. Then with his right hand he retracted the Commandant's unwounded buttock and as she gasped afresh and stood up on tiptoe once more, he slowly inserted it with a little twist into her, leaving only an inch or so outside. It took effect surprisingly quickly.

"Ah! Oo!" gasped the Commandant again, looking around again and bouncing slightly as Xander carefully pushed the root home. Her hands, the backs of which were the only visible indication that she was in her mid- to upper thirties rather than her early twenties, now gripped the far edge of the table so tightly that her knuckles turned white. But suddenly she relaxed and giggled softly in relief as her pain eased. "My! That thing does work, doesn't it? The hurt's already diminishing, but... it's numbed me on both sides now, gods, I hope it doesn't numb my front parts too much along with it..." With a sultry grin she looked over her shoulder at the arrow shaft protruding from her left nether cheek. "My tailfeather," she whispered. "The thing looks almost phallic, doesn't it, Doctor?"

Xander nodded and grinned. "Do you think Eros might have shot you rather than that clumsy girl, Madame Commandant?" he countered, "I've always thought that the god of love had better targets for his arrows than the chest."

"I hope not!" remonstrated the Commandant, "because if Eros planted the arrow it'd mean I'd fall in love, or maybe simply lust considering where the arrowhead is, with the first man I saw after my wounding! And that's you! But no matter how handsome and virile you may be, Greek, I'm still very much in love with my husband, who's raising our two sons over with the Gargareans, thank you kindly. I admit, though, with your height and those muscles and that curly black hair you could tempt a lady. Maybe the arrow has its erotic attributes after all."

Xander appreciated and acknowledged the compliment but to his credit he was now all business and preoccupied with preparing his surgical supplies. Clean linens, dowels made from soft wood wrapped tightly in cotton and scorched in a pan on one side of an iron grate over the open fire, the other side holding up a small pot with a surgical knife and a few thin probes in hot, almost boiling, water. Near containers of terebinthine, Greek white wine, and honey, a pair of thin tongs stood ready for him to remove the probes from the water. Although neither Xander nor any other physician or surgeon of the time could explain the healing properties of scorched and boiled materials he accepted the principle that "scorched things heal" as fact and was scrupulous about using heat to prepare his dressings, bandages, and instruments. Now he gave the Commandant's unwounded buttock a pinch on the sit spot to gauge her reaction. She never moved, and Xander knew she was now anesthetized enough to work on. If she'd felt that pinch she'd have clouted him soundly. Or, on the remote chance that the arrow did come from the quiver of the god Eros, maybe not. He lifted a probe from the hot water.

"Madame Commandant, I'm ready to rid you of this pesky addition to your anatomy," he announced as he stood up, leaned over the wound in careful concentration, grasped the arrow shaft lefthanded and slowly inserted the probe into the wound with his right. Arrowheads made after the Grecian form had only one backward barb, and he wanted to make sure that this one didn't catch on any tissue. Nodding with satisfaction when he could feel both the barb and the shaft beside it using the probe, he knew the arrow was in the clear and slowly and carefully began to work it back and forth sideways, inching it out little by little and adjusting the probe carefully to keep the barb from catching on meat. The Commandant grasped the far edge of the table hard once more, knuckles again turning white.

"I feel it now... just a little. Ow!" she whispered with another worried, but extremely appealing, backward glance. She grimaced as she caught sight of what he was doing and hid her face. "Please don't ever tell anybody I was this squeamish," she begged softly.

"Never, Madame Commandant. My patients' secrets are all safe with me," he promised her as he continued working. "In confidence too, I might tell you that pleasuring yourself while I'm finishing up here could be beneficial for you..."

"I'm more numb there right now than I want to be, but if it weren't for that I might prefer that you pleasured me instead, Surgeon. When I felt that root go up my backside it made me just a bit horny in spite of the painkilling effect. If I weren't trying to be faithful to my husband, and if he wasn't bringing over our sons along with a party of young Gargarean grooms from the Caucasus at summer solstice to wed my young single soldiers who defeated that riffraff you were with... who knows?" chuckled the Commandant softly. "By the way, you may call me by my name, Melanippe, when we're in private, or Melli for short. Never in front of my troops, though!"

Xander blinked hard. Black Mare, her name meant in Greek. And if she was speaking that freely to him she meant it. Amazons weren't strictly what one would call promiscuous, but virginity apparently wasn't important, marriage was only one of multiple options available for sexual release, fidelity was simply a matter of choice between husbands and wives, and as a rule the female warriors were shockingly direct, blunt, and assertive about their sexual inclinations. At one time, apparently, they'd been required to kill an enemy before they could pair with a man, but nowadays the only restriction they seemed to have on marriage, if not casual sex, was that a girl had to engage in physical competition, racing, wrestling, swordplay or something similar, with whatever boy from among the corresponding male tribe, the Gargareans, that might be interested in her. The winner of the contest was recognized by both Gargareans and Amazons as the Dominant one within the couple's relationship but most of the time the Amazons were the victors. Hence the gaggle of young prospective grooms Melanippe's husband proposed to bring over. There were a few so-called daughters of Sappho among the Amazons and Xander had heard stories of "Gaygarians" as well but for the most part they were straight, and often if an Amazon, married or not, saw a man whose appearance and demeanor she liked she'd simply approach him and tell him she wanted to take him to bed. Not ask him to take her to bed, but to do the taking herself. Preferably immediately.

That had already happened several times to Xander after dark during the first few weeks of his captivity, simply with one and another of Melli's soldiers posted to guard the yurt assigned to him and prevent his escape. In fact the lusty, vigorous sex he'd gotten regularly from the guards was the main reason he was now a trustee prisoner, and why he'd become willing to stay on without resistance as adopted regimental surgeon for this troop. He'd actually been so tractable about this the Commandant no longer insisted that he be guarded at night. Rotten luck! But he'd often wondered how hot Melanippe herself might be in the sack and if he played his cards right... but no, he still had a job to do. Fighting down his increasing arousal and tugging upward a little harder on the arrow shaft, he murmured, "Now... just a moment here... I think-"

"Ow! Gods, I felt that! Not deeply, but right under the skin!" gasped Melanippe, her hair flying about as she jerked her head around again. Her body quivered from head to toe.

"It's out," proclaimed Xander with a satisfied grin, wiping blood off the arrowhead with a clean cloth and holding up the shaft. The Commandant winced afresh as she caught sight of it but held out her hand to take it. Xander obliged her, and she whispered "Ouch!" and grimaced again as she looked at it and felt the razor-sharp tip with an index finger. "Thank the gods there's no meat hanging on the barb! You know, we Amazons were the first ever to make weapons of iron. And we were all too good at it. Just looking at this thing makes my ass want to throb worse! How deep was it in?" she whispered.

"At the very point, perhaps two thumbnails and a half, Madame-I mean Melli. Not quite three thumbnails, but like I said, the shot was at a bit of an angle. You're going to be fine."

"I hope I don't feel the cauterization of the wound," she told him with a quaver in her voice she couldn't quite hide, "so do let me know when you're ready so I can prepare myself, just in case."

"I don't intend to use cautery, Madame Commandant," Xander answered her as he continued to fight down his own arousal. "I want this wound to heal by the second intention-that is, from the bottom up if you'll excuse my putting it like that, so it'll leave only a tiny scar or perhaps not even any scar at all. First I'll wash out the wound with terabinthene-what some call turpentine-and then swab it with Greek white wine, pat it dry, and finally I'll insert a dowel wrapped up tightly in cotton cloth saturated with the finest Themiscyran honey-"

"What? You've just gotten the arrowhead out and you're going to replace it with something else inside me, under my skin?"

"The honey will facilitate healing, Lady Melanippe, and every day or so I'll replace the dowel with others progressively shorter and thinner until the wound is nearly healed-then use plain honey dressings and finally a drawing paste that I make from bath salts. Won't that husband you mention be pleased that you'll not have a scar? And maybe even enjoy licking off the honey if we're still using that type of dressing when he brings over his Gargareans?"

Melanippe grinned softly, and perhaps even lecherously, at him again. "You bastard," she whispered, "why am I getting the suspicion that you're really going to enjoy fondling my ass for the foreseeable future? If Helena doesn't drive me crazy, you will!"

"Helena? The girl whose chin I dressed and stitched a couple of weeks ago? She was the one who shot you?"

"The same, just fresh turned eighteen, full grown now but green as a gourd and clumsy as an ox. I've got to figure out a proper punishment for her. How soon will I be ready to stand again?"

"Just a minute, Lady Melli," answered Xander, "I've irrigated your wound with the turpentine, swabbed it with wine-soaked gauze, and daubed the excess in, out and off with a scorched cloth. There's very little blood, but this isn't a highly vascularized part of the body. I'm preparing to insert the first honey-coated dowel. Then I'll wrap the wound up in a honey dressing and the nerve root'll have to come out. There... does that hurt?" he continued as he inserted the dowel into the wound.

"I felt a little pressure, that's all, but must the nerve root come out so soon? It certainly made a weird sensation in my... err, my fundament, going in, but, uh... it wasn't altogether unpleasant," Melanippe confessed with a bit of chagrin.

"It could possibly do damage if we left it in too long and besides, I want to make sure the arrow didn't hurt your sciatic and pudendal nerves," he replied. "Now to dress the wound. I'll wrap the bandage through your groin and over your thigh-can you raise your leg just a bit?"

"Ooo!" gasped Melanippe, "careful! That was my... my lady part! Good thing I'm partially numbed there! Whether or not you meant to be, you were just a little too free with your hands! Don't make me reach for that sword again! I might take the notion of aiming for something else besides your head and shoulders!"

Unperturbed, Xander allowed himself one pat to her now-dressed buttock, for which she tried to give him a glare she couldn't quite bring off. "All right, for the next few days you'll have to forego those tight trousers you look so good in, and either make do with your chitons or wear loose robes. I've an old cloak here someplace that should make you decent in front of your soldiers long enough for you to reach your yurt. But first, hold still while I extract that nerve root and believe me, you don't want me pulling it out fast. Just please don't ask why. Easy does it, now..." he ordered as he pressed on her sacrum with his left hand and very, very slowly pulled out the nerve root with his right and tossed it into a far corner of the tent.

"Eep!" Melli squeaked as the tip of the root finally emerged from her rosebud, "there was that sensation again! Damn you! I may be numb but the friction from that still nearly made me come all over myself right in front of you, Surgeon! What am I ever going to do with you? You're dangerous! In one way, at least!"

"I don't mean to be, Madame Commandant! I just have an eye for beauty wherever I see it. You're extremely callipygean, more than most Amazons even, and I'm simply an incorrigible pygophile."

"Pygophile? An ass man! I might have known! And I've been unknowingly indulging your fetish ever since I limped in here with an arrow sticking out of my butt like a phallus!" she shot back, but at the same time she could hardly suppress a mischievous grin. Callipygean meant "possessed of lovely buttocks" and she couldn't help but savor compliments, even if they came from a Greek inferior.

"The feeling should come back into your buttocks before long. You'll need to exercise lightly to keep the muscle from stiffening up. For this afternoon and evening just walk around a bit, only as you feel able to do so, then lie back down," Xander concluded, "on your tummy, of course. Don't worry if you see a little bit of blood seep through the bandage. If it's more than a little, send for me. You can raise your torso and stand up now, but don't feel bad if you're a bit dizzy. You've had a shock to your system, after all."

Melli obliged, and Xander caught her as she swayed slightly. "It's all right-I'm steady-I have my balance now," she insisted. Xander offered her a cup of koumiss, the fermented slightly alcoholic mare's milk which all Amazons young and old drank, which she accepted gratefully. But apparently she thought Xander needed at least one more lesson in recognizing who was in charge here. "I want a kiss on that buttock, to make it better!" she demanded, trying her best to look and sound imperious.

Xander looked at her wonderingly. "You're, uh, demanding that I kiss your ass, Madame Commandant?" he queried softly, hardly able to believe his good luck.

"Yes! Kiss my ass, inferior person! Not the rosebud, you big Greek dolt, just the same bun where the wound is!" she snapped. "You may think you're Dominant over me now, but rest assured, you're not! And don't think that it'll excite me sexually! The only reason I'm demanding it is that I'm still numb there!"

"I live to obey you, Madame Commandant, Lady Melanippe," Xander whispered throatily as he bent down to carry out her command. And in spite of her claim to be numb, her wounded buttock sprouted goosebumps all over at the gentle touch of his lips.

"Hey! I didn't say you could kiss me more than once! Behave yourself, Greek!" Melanippe now demanded indignantly, but her tone lost its edge almost immediately. "I'm not sure now that that was a good idea," she murmured with a chagrined look over her shoulder.

"I was glad to oblige, Lady Melanippe," Xander replied as he stood erect and tried to hide his ever-increasing arousal by turning around to search for the cloak he'd offered her. "Now, let me find that cloak-it should be in this trunk-got it!" he announced as he held it up, "just hold still and I'll slip it on your shoulders. You're my Commandant, but I'm still a little taller than you and that comes in handy right now."

"It's not very stylish," grumbled Melli as she lowered her arms and looked over the wrinkled off-white cloak.

"But for now it's practical. Oh, and speaking of practicality: no river bathing until that wound's completely healed up. Restrict yourself to sponge baths till I tell you it's safe to do otherwise. Get your servant girls to bring water to your tent and have them heat it."

The Commandant frowned. Amazons were obsessive about personal cleanliness and they didn't wear their cypress-cedar-frankincense perfume to disguise body odor. Most of this particular troop, Melanippe included, liked to bathe every day in the Thermodon River that ran past the eastern edge of the camp down towards the Amazon capital of Themiscyra and the Black Sea. It was a welcome change for Xander, who'd often had to breathe through his mouth when he treated the injuries of the malodorous marauders he'd worked with before the Amazons drove the survivors back to the Aegean, and he'd actually adopted the women warriors' habits as his own. If there were any Amazons in the river near him at the same time he started to bathe, though, their response was unpredictable. Some might be washing clothing, others washing themselves, but he never knew when he might be invited to join them for a little fun or told to get lost and have rocks thrown at him.

"I would have bathed before I let the girls bring me over here to you, if only my trousers hadn't been nailed to my ass! I don't like this, but... you're the doctor, I guess, so I'll do sponge baths," Melli finally conceded. "Now hand me back my xiphos!"

Xander obeyed her and, in spite of a little fumbling from shaky hands, she opened the loose cloak and successfully tied the scabbard back onto the belt around her chitoniskos. "So far, so good," he answered. "Do you want me to fetch a couple of your trainees in, to help you to your yurt?"

"Not yet," the Commandant sighed, "I've still got to punish that clumsy young baggage that put me in this fix, and I don't look forward to it. Call her in. But there's one good thing: your pygophilia and that pat you gave my wounded nether cheek have shown me the perfect punishment to fit the crime. Your work's not done yet this morning, Doctor." Now she smiled wryly again.

"Madame Commandant! Surely you don't want me to-to-"

"No, no, I don't want you shooting her to revenge me! But since she's been such a pain in my ass, let's say that it's time for her to feel a little pain of her own in that part of her anatomy. Summon her in here, Surgeon... or Xander, since we're on a first name basis now."