Heroine of Zenina

by Giselle Marks

“I cannot take her men. Don’t you think it indecent for a woman in her fifth century to take a stripling of 36 to bed?”

  “You have a beautiful intelligent mind and the body of a young Zeninan woman. It is the aesthetics of age that are obscene not the numbers. I remember Carina’s body well but her mind was neat but lazy. Her idea of sex was to lie there and let you do the work. Not what I expect from a woman of that intelligence.”

  “You and Carina were lovers?”

  “Briefly a year ago, I did not look her up when I returned to Zenina and she didn’t contact me either. Neither of us wanted to continue the affair.”

  “Well Riyal, you have made my day. It has been a long time since young men paid me compliments.”

  Riyal was found Zeninan clothing and accompanied Vellina to an examination room where he was put through a battery of tests using a series of machines. The towering headache he started with progressed into cataclysmic proportions, but at last Vellina pronounced herself satisfied. She took the print-outs and Riyal to her office. There she opened a wall safe, removing a tube of tablets which she handed to Riyal.

  “Take two now and then one as needed.”

  He swallowed the tablets and the noise and pain reduced to a faint buzz and ache within seconds. Vellina was now speaking aloud to him; which struck him as peculiar, but he found it difficult to follow her thoughts. The tablets surely could not work that quickly.

  “What is in these tablets?” he asked her aloud.

  “A refined and diluted extract of Kurgian treacle, dangerous stuff isn’t it?”

  “I never realised why it worried Zeninans so much.”

  “You have been punished for it, we don’t hold grudges normally. Do you want to know the results of my tests? I’ll put it unscientifically; you have come out quite high just lower than Kerina herself. Your telepathic skills will be excellent and you should concentrate on telekinesis. You have relatively low scores on precognition, fire handling or metal manipulation, but you have high empathy scores. You should enrol at college straight away or you’ll find things floating around you or yourself self-transporting while you sleep.”

  “I’ll do that, can I see Marina now?”

  “I suppose so, though I don’t think it will be much use. Her condition is unchanged.”

  Vellina took Riyal to Marina’s room. There were two guards in palace uniform outside the door and Vellina instructed them to admit Riyal. He entered to find Marina lying stiffly in an awkward position. He touched her face it was cool, but not cold. The room smelt of her, sweet and sensual with no trace of decomposition. He could not detect any breathing and felt no pulse. If Vellina had not told him Marina was catatonic, he would have thought her dead. He lowered the coverlet a little and put his ear to her chest. For a while he heard nothing and then one faint quiet beat, he listened on and after what seemed an interminable time he heard another beat.

  Relieved she was genuinely alive; he ran his hands over her cold flesh. One of her wrists had a couple of sensors attached to it and a machine was producing a paper trace which looked very faint indeed. He leant over her and kissed her mouth, saying to her “Marina wake up!”

  “Riyal” came a small slow sound in his mind, “You’ve changed colour, how wonderful.”

  “Wake up Marina,” he said for her body was still unmoving. He started to tickle her all over, choosing the most sensitive spots. She did not squirm away from his fingers. Her eyes opened slowly as if in supreme effort. The paper trace began to move back and forth in slightly bigger movements.

  “I still can’t move Riyal; some of my mind is shut down. It will be a while before I can get up,” her thoughts said.

  “I want you,” he said finding it to be true, even her immobile body attracted him.

  “It is a side effect of the treacle and colour-change together. Help yourself if you want. I could not stop you anyway.” Marina’s mind voice laughed.

  “I might hurt you.”

  “I doubt I’ll feel it, but that would be an improvement on this numbness. Beside it will help my circulation get going again.”

  Her body had moved slightly, relaxing into a more natural pose.

  “Take my hand,” she asked moving her fingers a little. He did as he was bid, feeling a slight squeeze of her fingers as he held her.

  “You’re very cold,” he said.

  “Then warm me up.”

  “What about the guards?”

  “They will stay outside.”

  He rubbed the flesh of her arms feeling the muscles stiffen beneath the skin; she was wriggling her fingers with more effect now. Then he massaged her legs, loosening them up. He could feel her trying to take control of her muscles.

  “Make love to me.”

  “You’re still a zombie.”

  With a terrible effort she moved her free arm over to her other wrist and eased off the sensors letting them fall to the floor.

  “Not quite that,” she said in his mind holding out her arms. He slid into them, having removed the brief garment he wore.

  “Get on with it,” she said gently stroking his back. He kissed her again and she opened her mouth to receive his tongue, clinging to him with her mouth and hands. Entering her he felt her tense again, in pain and eased himself in more gently, but that was not what she wanted.

  “Don’t be so gentle Riyal, wake me up. I haven’t had a man for over two days, warm me up.”

  He gave her what she asked for, surprised he could read her thoughts when he had found it hard to read Vellina’s and worried her mind was responding with pain not pleasure. Still she urged him on and his body showed no signs of seeking release. Then her body stiffened again, her muscles contracting upon him in a flowing movement as she shifted position a little, bending up her knees and arching her back. The thoughts in her mind were now entirely selfish.

  Riyal found this surprisingly refreshing. Normally Marina was more concerned about his satisfaction than her own. He could feel the rest of her mind joining in with her body. Only then he learned the capacity of her brain. He realised almost simultaneously she no longer dwarfed him. That his mind had grown and he was experiencing her fully for the first time.

  He had often dreamed of what it must be like to be Zeninan but he never imagined it could be this good. The sensations crowded in on him and he found himself glorying in his own mind. He liked himself, he was special, and he felt proud. She laughed in his mind at him and her internal movement speeded up.

  “The treacle’s wearing off a bit,” she said “We must finish before your head starts to split again.”

  When they came together he experienced it through her eyes and mind as well as his. The joy doubled and redoubled so it overwhelmed him. He lay on her briefly, shedding a few tears because his emotions were overstretched. He eased himself off her and took another tablet as she instructed. She propped herself up on her elbows.

  “Help me up please,” she asked.

  He got her standing up, but her legs would not hold her up.

  “Frog march,” she said draping an arm around his shoulder. They shambled back and forth but she was beginning to move more naturally.

  “Bathroom!” He walked her there. She put her hands down on the sink and steadied herself.

  “Leave me and get me a nurse, please,” she ordered.

  When she emerged from the bathroom an hour later, she was bathed and moving naturally. Vellina was sitting on the bed talking with Riyal who had forgotten to dress again. Vellina was relieved Riyal had taken another tablet. She had been finding putting a block on her thoughts a strain. She was surprised at the strength of her desire for him, but behaved absolutely correctly.

  Marina, who had been listening in on their thoughts, was amused by Vellina’s lust. Vellina had never had thoughts like that in all the time they had known each other. Vellina was not surprised Marina had picked up her thoughts, but was embarrassed. Marina made no comment but got dressed.

  She spoke in the minds of Vellina and R
iyal, “I still cannot use my voice. There is a small abrasion in that part of my brain. I’m repairing it, but I will be silent for a day.”

  Then she blocked her thoughts from them both. “What should I do about Riyal and Vellina? In the future I see them together. Yes, that rings true, I knew he wasn’t meant for me, but he isn’t aware of it yet. If I train him well, Vellina will appreciate it as a present from me.”

  Marina was sad and happy at the same time. She had become very fond of Riyal, too fond for her own good perhaps.

  He was a rogue but there was no real bad in him. And his early promise was beginning to pay dividends with her careful training. She was pleased Vellina would find some joy with him. He had enough mischief in him to keep her from working too hard. She felt a little downcast that she would eventually lose him. Leave them laughing, she said to herself sorting her thoughts during her long sleep into a pleasing order.

  Chapter Thirty-Two – Education

  The farm school-rooms held over eighty children of different ages. Orina and the twins settled in easily. Jessina also joined the class, although standing out as an unchanged non-Zeninan. She was soon accepted and exulted in being trained to use her brain telepathically. Father Debenden was very bemused at Jessina being included, as he had been teaching both her and Floren himself. He complained she would fall behind with her studies, but Marina overruled him.

  “Jessina will benefit from contact with children of her own age and Floren needs one to one attention,” she said.

  Father Debenden gave in, but did not miss Jessina; he spent six hours a day tutoring Floren. Tippy as a changer was also in the school rooms and felt very out of place, at first. But after a short while, two Blue slaves who had recently colour changed joined him. They had been purchased specially on Marina’s orders to keep company with Tippy. One was of Markaban origin, they did not realise Marina had brought them specially so accepted each other happily. Tippy could now change back to his original colour and lift small objects like a pencil with his mind, but so far had poor control over it.

  School was on the five day on three days off basis, but there were holidays coming up. Peckella, a festival, started before the Games. Schools and colleges would shut down for 30 days. Some had already started their holidays, although others would stay open especially for changers. The farm work had to be done every day of the year, but was distributed so mothers had at least two of the three school rest days off each, to have time with their children.

  The working hours of the farm were flexible, most of the controllable farm work, maintenance and cleaning were done on the five school days. On the other days only essential feeding, cleaning and animal husbandry were done. In an area where the weather was usually fine, waiting for good weather was not a problem, but irrigation of the crops was very important.

  Karella pottered around the kitchens under Belabeza’s supervision. Belabeza told the cook to take a holiday for a couple of weeks which she did. The cook had grandchildren in Hemithea and some more in the islands whom she wanted to visit. The food, although just as plentiful, changed character a little and was definitely more lavish and exotic in presentation. Marina’s only comment apart from complimenting Belabeza on her cooking was, “How much extra is it costing me in ingredients?”

  Karella improved simply by doing something. She had not lost her present memory merely her past. She became a good cook and could hold a conversation about what she did during the day. She took to reading or watching a vid recording in the evenings to put some information into her mind, even if it was not what was there originally.

  “I never forgot how to read or write, but I had no motivation to do anything,” she explained to Belabeza.

  Now she was with Tippy again, she was afraid to lose him. Tippy remained faithful but his eyes wandered over the bodies of the other farm workers. He had many offers which he turned down. He still loved Karella, but she was not the woman she had been; and he was both more, and less, than he had been before. The massacre plagued his dreams and little snippets of memory attached themselves to what he had already remembered flimsily like seaweed clinging to a ship’s side.

  ***

  Colonel Bromarsh’s demonstration had been very effective, morale improved in the regiment immediately. The news filtered to other regiments and suddenly there was an improvement in the results of training. Vlama’s threat of flogging the tutors seemed to be very effective. Bromarsh wrote Marina a preliminary report on his recommendations and thoughts about how the army training school was run. In his spare time he taught Charles to fight and studied the files at the Internal Security Department. He concluded that the computer prognostication was correct in connection with Markaban politics. The whole of Markaba was riddled with Kurgian sympathisers and paid supporters. He made lists of those he suspected and those he hoped might be free of the Kurgian taint.

  After his three days on the farm he returned to Headquarters and did not go back to the farm. The three days off he spent at the Department calling up file after file, trying to build up a picture. General Hulavan’s file was examined minutely. The man’s name came up in context with many prominent people; he had made sure he knew everybody who was anybody. After a while Bromarsh asked if there were any newspaper articles or media vids mentioning or picturing the General. The file cross-referenced in the General’s main file, if Bromarsh had known where to look, was huge. Nearly as huge as the file of media reports pillorying Bromarsh as a murderer and traitor.

  Chapter Thirty-Three- Prejudice and Penitence

  Father Debenden found fitting into life on the farm difficult even though everyone made huge allowances for him. A special room to teach Floren in was allocated and he was given the keys to a small building used as a chapel. Father O’Flaherty had consecrated it himself to St Brigid. Father Debenden was encouraged to hold services for the farm workers on two of the three rest days. These services were well attended, over fifty souls being present at each service. More than a quarter of workers on the farm were practising a form of Christianity, even though Marina doubted His Holiness, back in Rome would fully understand the Zeninan version.

  Debenden was not asked to do any farm work, but found his time hard to fill, having a city dweller’s inherent contempt for anything involving dirt or productive animals, even though he enjoyed the food produced. He could quote text and verse from Ecclesiastes “That to everything there is a season” through to Luke with the parable of the Sower. He could write a fine erudite sermon likening Jesus to a good shepherd, but he had no real knowledge of planting, growing or the care of animals. So his sermons were without the truth of understanding, they were cold like the pages of a textbook.

  Part of him rejected the idea of Jesus or his disciples being involved in anything as ugly as physical labour, he thought he believed the Bible yet could not see Jesus as a carpenter or Peter as a fisherman. The believers attended his services but came away bemused, they heard his words but most heard his thoughts as well and the two did not concur. When he got to preaching Corinthians on marrying or burning, celibacy and fornication, there was some shuffling of feet in the seats. No one was rude enough to walk out, but there was dissatisfaction.

  Marina could have quoted back “Be fruitful and multiply.” Or pointed out her race needed to survive and was doing what it could to do so. She could have argued the views of a life-time celibate male with she suspected homosexual leanings, brought up in a society where men were in power and women were weak, had little relevance to Zenina. She resisted the impulse but was tempted, seeing no reason to court controversy by discussing theology with him.

  So when he joined the common rooms to be in company. Father Debenden felt isolated. The rooms were quiet after the children went to bed. Telepaths did not need to sit upstairs to be sure their children were asleep. The adults sat together in silence doing needlework or a craft activity with apparent concentration. If Father Debenden had had any natural telepathic ability he would have listened in to the dive
rse and often heated conversations going on around him. Instead he thought they were sullenly shutting him out by not talking to him and were so dull they had nothing to say anyway.

  The arrangement of the services infuriated him. Although in deference to him, Marina had insisted that the congregation made the responses to Father Debenden’s prayers audibly. There was no facility for producing audible music in the chapel. So when the pshycia-organ struck up as he entered with a rousing tune, he could not hear it and when during the service a Zeninan hymn was audibly announced, the five minutes where the congregation stood and raised their mind voices to God were only times of silent prayer to him. Several times he became irritated with this behaviour, starting his prayers in the middle of a hymn.

  Most of the Zeninans were tolerant; they were embarrassed on his behalf as he was Marina’s guest. Marina was finding his interrupting annoying. She decided he should learn his error even if he relapsed straight into refusing to believe in telepathy. So before the next rest-day service she fitted Father Debenden with a tight-fitting metallic helmet which would amplify the voices of all those around him. She herself could have made him hear her thoughts, but the volume required would give any Zeninans within a few square miles a splitting headache.

  It was not practical to shout at Father Debenden so she was providing him with a hearing aid. She adjusted the controls close to maximum amplification and instructed the automatic translator to operate from Zeninan tongues to the Federated Planet’s language that was Father Debenden’s mother tongue. To begin with all he heard was a lot of noise and chatter, but as he turned towards various people he began to isolate their conversations from the background noise.

  He crammed a hat over the helmet and walked around the farm, as he approached a couple of Green farm workers, one said to the other. “Here comes that fool priest, the one who thinks we’ve nothing to say to each other.”