The queue of long black hair bounced behind the golden women as she ran. Her full breasts did not, moving up and down as she breathed hard as the exertion cut into her. Muscle, not fat, he surmised. The pain from that sprint, barefoot over rough ground must be intense, yet no glimmer of discomfort appeared on her features. A pleasing face in other circumstances, her musculature and the severity of her hairstyle did not detract from her femininity.
Bromarsh told himself, she was both soldier and woman, without doubt, a damn fine one of both. “You’ve no chance Bromarsh, forget it.” The woman halted positioning herself to attack, her back towards him. Some of his charges peered out from behind him, finally roused by the noise of the animal’s rush. Ondiella and the boy screamed in panic. The priest stood muttering prayers. The weapons he had given them had been more to give them comfort than protection.
When the Golden woman gave orders, he obeyed without question. The soldier, ever obedient to authority hustled them back into the cave, slapping Ondiella’s face gently to prevent further hysteria. She subsided into soundless sobs, cringing from the terror outside and his wrath. Bromarsh thought wryly, “I’ve fallen far this time. Retiring cravenly to leave a woman to fight my battles; surely I can sink no further?”
Having shooed them back inside, he resumed his position on guard at the cave-mouth. He was aware that if the beast should kill the woman, then only he stood between them and death.
He watched as she prepared for the attack, her stance text-book in its precision. The quietness of her presence was overwhelming. Suddenly he understood the qumursk should feel fear, not him and his charges. The certainty of her victory was absolute. He had no doubt, only trust she would not, could not fail them. She was a safe harbour in a stormy sea.
For a few brief seconds he was at peace with himself and as the beast fell, bringing him back fully to the present, he felt happy, really happy for the first time in years. Not just at the removal of the current danger, but at the lifting of a great weight from his heart and soul. The sorrows of the years gone by seemed erased, wiped from his memory.
Chapter Four - The Zeninans
As the tremors of the beast’s death throes concluded, a hover-car appeared towing an open sled, it held a variety of containers. The car landed between the qumursk’s carcase and the cave, opening to reveal another four Zeninan women. They climbed out of the hover car; two Silvers, a Blue and a Green. They, like the first woman, had metallic coloured skin in pastel shades of their colour name. Bromarsh now appreciated these were the real colours the names referred to. All were at first sight, well-formed young women, although one of the Silvers was shorter and slenderer than the rest. As he examined her closer, he gathered that she was a girl of fourteen or fifteen years.
All the women were dressed in similar style to the Gold, in the military uniform of the Zeninan Empire. The uniform, whilst extremely brief, still managed to convey the rank of the wearer, and a host of other information. Only the younger Silver wore sandals, the others had bare feet. The golden cloth of their Imperial Army uniform breechclouts and ruby coloured belts were their main items of clothing.
Each also wore a sash diagonally between their breasts which was padded and strapped at the left shoulder and under their left arms. This supported a quiver of arrows and a short bow. The older Silver also had a javelin case slung across her back. The only other weapons they carried were large-bladed knives of about ten inches in length which they wore suspended from their belts, secured by leather straps around their thighs to prevent them swinging as they ran. The short swords which were part of their formal uniform had been discarded for ease of movement, being of little use against qumurski. All of them wore heavy golden armlets of totally plain yet heavily burnished finish.
Bromarsh thought armies were similar throughout the universe; some totally unnecessary item of uniform must be polished till brilliant and then blacked out for covert missions, only to be polished again as soon as barracks were reached. These armlets he assumed were presumably the Zeninan version of this military time wasting chore. They added to the general appearance of the uniform and in a knife fight with other soldiers were used to block a direct cut.
Bromarsh noticed the coloured and complicated markings of their sashes which he remembered from his military training indicated their rank, regiment, Imperial status, campaign experience, special skills and even heroism. The Zeninan uniforms had no sleeves for epaulettes or stripes, no jacket to pin medals onto. The sash was multi-purpose replacing that. Bromarsh could recognise the ranks of the soldiers by the colour of their sashes, but Zeninans could also tell their regiment by the edging pattern. However the intricacies of the internal patterns were understood only by the Zeninan military and a few members of the ruling elite to whom protocol was paramount.
Bromarsh had always thought that Zeninan uniforms seemed designed to distract an unknowing male enemy. Many had thought that women would be a walkover in combat. Bromarsh knew how frequently male soldiers’ courage had wavered when they faced Zeninans in battle. In close combat, Zeninan soldiers were capable of taking out more than double their number of any other troops. Most men regretted underestimating this female army.
The first Zeninan was also dressed in uniform, her sash being of dull gold colour, unlike the more colourful and ornate versions of her companions. Bromarsh guessed she wore the rank of General, but was unsure why there was no regimental or divisional edging or any other insignia, which might indicate another answer. Her javelin sheath hung empty on her back and her breathing was still ragged from the exertion of her run and kill. Only when the great rust-coloured bear was completely still, did she turn to the people who now clustered around the entrance of the cave.
The four new arrivals silently unloaded containers from the sled depositing a few of them close to the cave and placing the rest by the dead animal. The Green took wood and a spit from these stores and lit a fire not far off. Returning to the sled, she removed water containers and quantities of fruit, spices, honey and roots. He watched her as she proceeded to prepare a meal of some size and complexity, ignoring all other activities.
The other three Zeninans set about skinning the beautiful auburn fur off the cooling qumursk. They worked, efficiently together as a unit. Once, skinned, they briskly set about cutting the meat into portions, packaging them into some of the empty containers and loading them back onto the sled. Whilst they worked not a word was uttered, which Bromarsh found eerie. The Green collected a large haunch of meat from the dismembering party and set it to roasting over the now blazing fire.
Bromarsh watched warily as the Gold removed the javelin case from her back which the Blue then stowed in the sled. She opened one of the containers and removed a white coat which she put on and buttoned at the front. The sickly sweet smell emanating from the depths of the cave had already informed Marina of the condition of the weakest members of the party.
Bromarsh came forward preparing to explain, but she cut him short.
“I’ll deal with the lepers first; discussion can wait.”
Marina spread two blankets on the earth. She entered the cave seeking the source of the all-pervading odour. In the rear of the cave, in near pitch dark, she found two beings swaddled in white sheets. Picking up the first bundle she carried it into the light and placed it on one of the blankets. Another fire was being started a little away from the blankets. Bromarsh was watching as she spoke to the man lying in front of her.
“I’m must inform you, that you’re not obliged to accept Zeninan medical assistance but if you refuse, you’ll be removed from this planet, to a quarantine area designated by the Zeninan Empire. There you’ll be cared for at the charge of the Zeninan Empire.”
She went on,
“If you wish to be treated you should understand the risks involved. There may be side-effects; these may include infertility or the inability to generate male offspring, increased longevity, or alteration of sexual direction or fatality. No guarantee is mad
e of improvement. The Empire accepts no responsibility for medical treatment and pays no compensation, in any circumstances. Any treatment received is at the patient’s own risk.”
She went on after a brief pause,
“Did you understand that? Good. I’m Marina and I’ll treat you. Obviously you know you’re suffering from advanced space leprosy. The good news is curing the disease is simple and we have a good success rate in regeneration even in advanced stages. Your nervous system will heal first so you’ll feel pain again. I can lessen the pain by linking minds and by acupuncture. I cannot anaesthetize you as regeneration of your nerves requires brain interaction for successful re-growth. Without that interaction you’d experience numbness and possibly paralysis in re-grown tissue and muscle. Do you have any questions? Do you wish to go ahead with treatment?”
Marina received a faint but audible affirmative so she removed the man’s wrappings, consigning them to the nearby fire. They burnt brightly but with little smoke. Bromarsh wondered at this as the prevailing wind was towards the cave, yet no smell of the smoke came his way. The body thus exposed showed little flesh that was not coloured the purple or black typical of the disease. Parts of his hands and feet were missing, but his bone structure had not yet been severely ravaged as in the final stages of the infection.
Bromarsh watched Marina silently inserting groups of small copper pins into portions of the man’s anatomy. The man made no movement or complaint, clearly feeling nothing. Next she removed a syringe and a small vial of blue liquid from a case, containing many similar vials. She injected the fluid into his upper arm. Kneeling beside him, she spoke again.
“I am now ready to regenerate you. If you count slowly, when you reach a hundred the pain will be past its zenith, if you survive until then, you may hope for a full recovery.”
Bromarsh stared as pain shook the leper, teasing shrieks of anguish unbidden from his throat. The man’s body trembled; he ceased counting with the intensity of the shafts of pain piercing his body. As every nerve of his body screamed in unison, his eyes flew open to see what was torturing him.
The man looked down at his own body. Marina was already standing, removing the pins, sterilising them and replacing them in their case. Bromarsh stepped forward seeing the man’s body now pink and healthy as she lifted him wrapping him in the unused blanket. He noticed on the man’s breastbone a design traced in red and black had appeared. The patient observed it in horror. Marina rolled up the used blanket and burned it.
“Sleep for an hour or so before attempting movement. The regeneration was a success. You’re unlikely to have unusual side-effects.”
She wrapped him tighter into the blanket and placed him closer to the cooking fire, he was fast asleep before he finishing stuttering his thanks.
The rest of the group observed this procedure with varying degrees of fascination and incredulity. They were an incongruous group, Marina thought to herself. Bromarsh, their leader was a tall muscular man somewhere in his late forties, who had lost an arm sometime previously. A prosthetic was strapped in its place. One of his cheeks had been seared by laser. Even an unimaginative observer could guess other scars latticed his body. He had the bearing of a professional soldier, the stance and posture of a man who had spent his life in uniform.
Beside Bromarsh stood a young man in a long black dress; his neatness and immaculate cleanliness looking out of place in this wilderness. His beautifully manicured fingers played with a large silver cross which hung from his neck. Behind him, two youngsters stared out in fear; a boy and a girl, clearly siblings.
The boy had white-blond hair, closely cropped and was about thirteen years old. The girl with hair of a slightly warmer colour, which fell in curls over her thin shoulders, was about four years younger. Both wore the tight-fitting blue garments which were the preferred style of the young throughout much of the universe. The cut of their clothes reeked of money. The children had the beauty and assurance of those who have been much spoilt and believe in their worth above all things.
Sitting on a rock a little further back was an exotic woman of mixed race and temporarily immense girth. Her stomach was distended by advanced pregnancy. The elegance of her lustrous features was ruined by the scowl she wore. Spasms of pain racked her body at intervals, clouding her eyes. She got up and paced disconsolately, ignoring the last member of the group, who lay slumped in a heap. Tippy had taken no notice of either the healing or the death of the qumursk. He was singing to himself tunelessly, the volume modulating wildly. In the flat falsetto, his voice repeated the same lines over and over again.
“Come little baby bird,
Fly over here,
I’ve salt to flavour you,
I’ll put it in your ear....”
Once in a while he would stop singing and break into peels of inane laughter as if he had just heard a really good joke.
Marina laid out two new blankets and fetched the other leper. She repeated the harangue denying Imperial responsibility. The man laughed without mirth when the possibility of infertility or absence of male issue was mentioned.
“Space leprosy has already taken away my manhood,” he told her.
“Do you have any living children?” she enquired.
“Six sons and three daughters, but I was sterilised when my third wife lost our last child. I’d prefer to die than be eaten by this disgusting canker,” he declared with some force.
Marina went on,
“The regeneration of a man in your condition is always difficult. It is complicated by the false image men have of their bodies. For assisted regeneration, some visualisation of the body has to be achieved by the combined minds of doctor and patient. If the patient’s image of his healthy anatomy differs from reality, distortions in the regenerated body occur. In the sensitive area of male genitalia, the discrepancy between self-image and physical truth results in a higher than usual failure rate in regeneration.”
Marina explained to him,
“We’ve increased the success rate to one in three of male genital regenerations. Only one in three regenerations allows the patient to father viable children, even with the use of sperm-sorting techniques to avoid deformities. About two in three regenerations are partially successful as normal sexual activity can be resumed. Although physical regeneration is over ninety percent successful, a failure to accept the new organ causes impotence in about twelve percent of regenerations. In a few cases deviant sexual behaviour has been noted, but we’re unsure whether those tendencies existed or were latent before regeneration.”
She watched his eyes to see if he had taken in what she had said. Satisfied, she went on, “After major regeneration, the body is re-instated in its natural condition; tattoos, hair grafts, surgical improvements are all reversed. Risk of mutant spermatozoa is high in all cases of regenerated testes. We recommend only artificial methods of fertilisation are used after regeneration, so damaged sperm can be discarded. I’d advise you to have your sterilisation re-instated after regeneration.”
Bromarsh watched the second regeneration with interest, respecting his ex-comrade as he struggled to remain silent through the painful process. At last the regeneration was complete and he lay exhausted by the pain. His lips were bitten raw by the effort of fighting the desire to scream. Marina enfolded him in a clean blanket and laid him next to his ship-mate.
The dissection of the beast had been completed as she finished treating the man. The Zeninans stowed the meat in the shed and cleaned the fur of traces of flesh and blood. Then folded it and packed the pelt away. Even the horns were wrapped and loaded up. Only the bones remained and they were added to a third fire which blazed a short distance off.
The children and the priest had wandered closer to the cooking smells and the Green gave them some yellow juicy fruit. The woman had resumed her seat on the rock. The brain-sick man had not moved. He remained occupied by his own thoughts.
Bromarsh moved beside Marina and opened his mouth to question her, but she spoke
first.
“Which ship are you from? Who was your captain? Give me a list of the planets you and your crew mates have visited in the last year?”
Bromarsh prevaricated, not willing to betray his ex-comrades, despite knowing their activities demanded punishment.
“I can’t tell you, but no other members of the crew suffered from space leprosy,” Bromarsh muttered awkwardly.
“I’m not concerned in the petty villainies of your shipmates. The hundreds they’ve killed are nothing compared to those who’ll die if this disease spreads unchecked. Space leprosy has a long incubation period. All contacts from a year past have to be traced and inoculated against the disease. If we don’t contain the epidemic it could spread through galaxies with billions dying. I regret you’re unwilling to assist. I’ve accessed the information from your mind, but my personal squeamishness about invading your mental privacy is less important than the risk to others.You, having seen the condition of those men, must comprehend that in protecting your friends from criminal detection might result in further suffering on many planets. I don’t have time to discuss this. Excuse me...”
She broke off abruptly, speeding towards the opening of a smaller cave to the left of the main one. Bromarsh looked around him; the young Silver was entertaining the youngsters with a display of juggling using small stones. Her hands were at her sides as the pebbles went up and down, revolving in ornate patterns. By the cooking fire the other Silver woman crouched carefully feeding Tippy. The Green bustled back and forth basting the meat and cooking the meal.
The woman, Ondiella, had resumed pacing in front of the cave mouth. His two former ship-mates slept on by the fire. Only the priest and the Blue were missing. He followed, seeing the priest sprawled on the rough floor of the small cave. His raiment thrown up, he was naked from the waist down. The Blue, still dressed knelt beside him, her hands explicitly on his skin, turned as Marina entered. There was a faint glow around the Blue which throbbed as if controlled by a strong force.
Princess of Zenina Page 2