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Majgen Ch. 000

By: ellynei



I am posting chapter 000 in the hope that it will make people stop reading my 'Majgen'.

*

The story about Majgen Rahan is very dear to me.

In 2008 when I first started submitting Majgen to literotica I knew absolutely nothing about writing. I do mean nothing. I had barely a clue about punctuation either.

The thought that anyone at all would want to read my stories was still alien, exhilerating and unbelievable.

I'd been making up stories in my head since I was about thirteen, I had just never told anyone about them. Majgen was the shortest, complete, story, that I had ever made up. It only lasted for about two months of daydreaming. So, since my BIG story had lasted for years of daydreaming, I figured that Majgen would be far easier to write.

Majgen was, before it started coming into words, merely a practice project. A stepping stone. Something that could teach me how to write for the purpose of eventually getting started on a BIG project.

Sometimes looks are deceiving. I guess the same holds true for daydreams. Majgen turned out to be a huge project. I have more than 300 000 words of Majgen, and it is not yet complete.

When I first started submitting Majgen, I had every intention of posting the whole thing. Along the way, two things happened. The one was that I got frustrated with submitting chapters that could be so much better with more time and effort, the other was that people started convincing me that I should get it published for real.

Somehow they, in particular my best friend, (whose voice matters more to me than I can tell in one paranthesis,) managed to convince me that 'Majgen' had a real chance to be published for real. A while after I had grown to believe those statements, I gave in to the dream of publishing and stopped posting Majgen.

The early Majgen-readers were very supportive, yet, the heavy feeling of guilt never really left. Since chapter 001 I had promised to post the whole thing.

To soothe my conscience, I clung on to my second promise: To one day send the completed books to those early readers who wanted it.

So, I stopped submitting Majgen to lit. And then the real work began. I had to complete the trilogy, and I had to learn to write.

I've spent thousands of hours working on Majgen. I've smiled, and wept, and poured my soul into it. I've edited like a madwoman, applying over and over again every new thing I learned about the craft.

But then... There had to be a but.

Some months into 2009 my eyes started giving up on me. I had trouble concentrating while reading, hence very big trouble concentrating while writing. After a while I had trouble reading at all. Over the next many months I spent a lot of money on glasses, pair after pair, to get something that would enable me to write again.

Long story short, about a year later, it was evident that my eyesight issues are eyestrain issues, and can't be helped. I already have (and had all along) the perfect glasses for my eyes. I can in fact (when my eyes are not strained) see better than most. The last eye-doctor was very impressed by how tiny letters I can read (when my eyes aren't strained).

Sadly, for my eyes not to be strained, I have to not have looked at a computer screen for days. And, also sadly, writing by hand wears my eyes out too.

I'm working on learning to write in spite of my eye issues. I've come far enough that I am now able to write stories such as 'Moth'. Moth was written over two (maybe three) weeks. Each chapter is very short and straightforward enabling me to keep mental track without notes. The wording is intentionally simple, lessening the need for editing/rewriting.

For me it was amazing that I was able to write it. It was only possible because I wrote it all out in one creative two-(maybe three)-week spurt.

Majgen is different. Majgen is a trilogy which, if ever completed, will consist of three long, wordy, books. It has stories within stories; intertwining fates; politics; intriges; and an immense plethora of characters. It requires immense amounts of editing and rewriting.

To add new pieces to it, I have to be completely immersed in the universe and the story, which has proven difficult now that reading it end to end takes more than a week, (computerized loudreading is insufferably slow compared to reading with eyes).

Again, long story short. I haven't figured out how to resume work on Majgen.

I'm drifting back and forth. My eyes are strained today, making it hard for me to remember which line of thought I was meant to follow here.

In reminder, to both you and me: I am adding this 'Majgen 000' to make people stop reading Majgen. Someone will probably comment that I should just take it down. There's two reasons why I don't. One is that the dated posts on lit is one way in which I can prove the story is mine. The other reason is that some of the old Majgen readers still return here to reread it.

I still, after all this time, get feedback on 'Majgen', sometimes from people who are in the middle of reading it, sometimes from people who has reached the end and only then noticed the warnings that the rest will not be up. It tears at my heart every single time.

So, please, stop reading Majgen. Go away. You'll either not like it, in which case reading it is utterly pointless. Or you'll get caught up in it and want the rest, which isn't there.

If you've read this far, you have probably noticed that I, the writer, am odd. You're not mistaken. That's just how it is. I don't know how to be likeable, I only know how to be me.

So here I go, exposing myself to all the nasty things that happen when I address people directly.

I hope it's worth it.

Please don't read Majgen.

Thank you.

Majgen Ch. 001



Copyright of Nanna Marker.

Warning: Work in progress, the full Majgen book-series is not yet completed (unless my bio states otherwise.)

----=(The meeting)=----

'Seven chairs on my right,' she thought while entering the classroom from the students' entrance, 'seven chairs on my left.'

Summoned by teachers, Majgen focused on unimportant details. Through trial and painful error, she had found this to be the wisest approach.

Adhering to proper etiquette for a low ranking student, she stood still there just inside the door. It automatically closed behind her. Perfect rows of empty seats started at the wall on both sides of her.

'Fourteen chairs total, in this row.'

The classroom was, unconventionally, designed and decorated solely in shades of white. Every surface was white, ranging through lily white, to egg shell white, to beige white. This colour choice was especially unusual for focused lecture style classrooms. The designs of these classrooms were intended to place focus on lecturers. Although white was efficient for this it usually became distracting in its own right. This school, however, the Mentariata, could afford the best and hired only exceedingly skilled designers.

Awaiting instructions, Majgen kept her head bowed. In order to make herself easily recognisable she had pushed her hood back, revealing her face and hair. Majgen's natural hair colour was a shiny pure black. In accordance with Mentarion Tradition she didn't dye it, but she made it boring by removing its shine with chemicals. Combined with her black uniform this made her less noticeable; the effect she aimed for.

When moving through the school hallways, she kept the hood up. Her shy childhood was not the basis for this evasive behaviour. Since being enrolled five years ago, experience had taught her that getting attention could easily lead to painful punishment.

For Majgen it was best to remain unnoticed.

In the opposite end of the room six Femaron ranked empaths were seated behind a curved table. The curve of the table, and their formal spacing, enabled each one to address another politely, without leaning forward. The Mentariata was a study facility for the stronger human empaths, the 'mentarions'. Any possible detail in design which could ease adherence to the Mentarion Ways was implemented in every part of the school.

Head still bowed, Majgen empathically recognised five of them as teachers, the sixth she had never sensed before. Engaged in a social conversation, they didn't immediately acknowledge her presence. She didn't attempt to listen in. Low ranked students at the Mentariata would never attempt to interfere with teachers talking amongst themselves, at least none who wanted to sleep on their backs in the near future.

Ordered to attend, Majgen made sure not to guess why. Being summoned usually meant bad news for her. Attempting to guess why she was here would cause her to feel fear. Being a strong emotion, fear would make them pay more attention to her, attention she did not want. 

'Seven chairs to my left, seven chairs to my right, fourteen chairs total this row. This room is very bright, the architecture is simple,' thought Majgen.

If a person was thinking of trivial details most empaths within sensing range gained very little information of what went on in that person's mind. Or rather, very little went on in the conscious mind of a person thinking of trivial details. Nobody had taught Majgen such subtle techniques to hide her thoughts and feelings, but she had picked some up herself over time.

During her first couple of months at the Mentariata, Majgen had tried to evade punishments by hiding her offences. This had taught her that it was very difficult to hide fear amongst mentarions, and absolutely impossible to do so when subjected to a thorough mind read. Most importantly, Majgen had also realised the retaliation for trying to evade punishment was often far worse than the penalty for the original offence. Any attempt by a student to lie to, or fool, a teacher always resulted in direct, swift, and painful punishment. Students were not meant to hide thoughts from their teachers. Untrained mentarions had no rights for privacy of mind.

Nowadays, Majgen didn't try to conceal crimes against the school's rule sets. She only used thought-techniques to keep her emotions level and uninteresting to avoid extra attention. Some higher ranking mentarions at the Mentariata knew she used such thought tricks regularly. They had not forbidden her to do so. They too had been relieved when she had learned to attract less attention.

The teachers soon finished their talk.

"Approach us, Student," said Femaron Kradi.

It was the first verbal acknowledgement of Majgen's presence. Majgen had never had much interaction with Kradi. He primarily taught second and third ranked students. His speciality was precognitive analytical theory -- the basic techniques to foresee likely future changes of mind in subjects.

Counting rows as she passed them, Majgen walked to the open area in front of the table. There she bowed once, a formal show of respect towards mentarions of higher rank. She raised her head to look straight at Femaron Kradi, also a formal gesture, to show he had her full attention, if he should want it. Ignoring Majgen, Kradi turned to one his peers, her superiors, and Majgen lowered her face to stand in her usual humble pose. This spared her from the unnerving sight of six Femaron ranked mentarions gathered at one place.

Pale yellow with bright blood-red markings.

At Majgen's time the colouring of Femaron uniforms was considered hideous as well as unfashionable. Majgen, however, had no conscious thought of the Femaron uniforms as distasteful, to her they were simply intimidating.

"This is the student we told you about, Femaron Baglian, Majgen Rahan is her name."

Femaron Kradi's words were directed at the mentarion she had never met. The others knew who she was. All teachers at the Mentariata knew who she was. Out of more than two thousand she was probably the only student whom every single teacher could recognise by appearance as well as mental sense and name. 

'Have I been summoned only to be seen by a new teacher?' she thought. That thought woke an emotion in her, a claustrophobic feeling of imprisonment, a yearn for freedom.

'I passed six rows of chairs. Each row had seven to my left and seven to my right. fourteen chairs total in each row. I passed six rows. Six rows of fourteen chairs is the same as six times ten chairs plus six times four chairs. That is sixty chairs plus six times four chairs. That is...' 

By these calculations she drowned the inappropriate emotion. The trivial thoughts also helped her pay less attention to her superiors' conversation. She did not want more unwanted emotions to surface.

"At first sight she doesn't appear so unusual," commented Baglian, "apart from the fact that I have never seen anyone as old as her dressed in the tenth ranked student uniform. You said she was eighteen?" 

"Yes," another of the teachers confirmed, "her birthday was about two weeks ago." 

Majgen was a Tenth Ranked Mentarion Student, hence she wore a student rank ten mentarion uniform. A rank colouring normally worn by children. She had been spared the indignity of the usual cut of uniforms for the youngest mentarions, though. As was norm for adult mentarions, the outer layer of her uniform was a long, sleeved, hooded cloak. It stopped six inches from the floor when she was standing. In accordance with the adult design of mentarion uniforms Majgen's cloak had no opening in the front. In the children's version of mentarion uniforms the cloak part was shorter and open in front, like a house-coat, to be less of a hindrance to physical activities, such as running.

"Well her conduct so far seems appropriately humble for someone wearing a uniform that a thirteen year old would consider a disgrace." Baglian's tone of voice was humorous as his eyes traced the randomly placed silver-grey spots, of varying sizes, on her black cloak.

'It pleases him, to see me in disgrace,' realised Majgen. 'I wonder why. No don't think further on it, remember Femaron Braygen. Make sure not to find out too much. Think of something else.'

She dug into her mind to find more trivialities to think of.

'The Green sun in the New Contuna system is not actually green. It only appears green to ships approaching the Ventro mining spots because the light passes through...'

Four years earlier, a teacher named Femaron Braygen had caused Majgen direct suffering, when she had inadvertently invaded his privacy and seen memories he meant for none to see. Consciously Majgen was unaware of the name similarity. Braygen and Baglian. Subconsciously, however, her mind classified Baglian as a larger threat than a random Femaron ranked stranger.

"Don't let her humble appearance fool you, Femaron Baglian," said one of the teachers, Femaron Peterson. "She is a genuine pest." Femaron Peterson had been a close friend of Femaron Braygen. He still felt resentment towards Majgen for the incident leading to Braygen's shameful resignation.

"A genuine pest you say?" Femaron Baglian didn't really seem surprised at that statement, "and now you want me to take this pest off your hands. What have I done to deserve this?"

His tone and manner gave the impression of honest curiosity, in spite of the joke implied by the wording. All the Femarons had mind shields up for privacy, like graduated mentarions usually had amongst other mentarions. Majgen knew that none of them were at the moment able to feel mild emotional shifts in the others.

She could.

Majgen was the only one -- other than Baglian himself -- who could sense he was not the least bit curious about the answer. He expected them to praise his abilities as a mentarion, his self-discipline and his technique. He expected to be told that he was their best hope of shaping the hopeless girl into a useable mentarion. In his opinion he was doing the five teachers a favour by giving them this opportunity to salute him.

'He must be the most arrogant man I ever felt,' thought Majgen. 'But that is not important, 'cause the planet we are on has the biggest apple-farm complexes in the universe. The thirty botanic floors of fountain-blue variety true-breed trees alone gives in total a...' 

"You have not been ordered to accept this task, by any of our superiors, Femaron Baglian. She will only be assigned to you if you give us permission to do so." Femaron Kradi said this to make sure Baglian would not feel pressured into accepting.

"Personally I will be happy to see her out of the Mentariata," added Femaron Peterson. "But my conscience tells me to say this to you, Femaron Baglian. Don't accept the job immediately. She is trouble. You can't tell it by looking at her for a few moments, you can't even tell it with one thorough scan of her mind."

'At least Femaron Peterson is being honest.' Majgen was familiar with his opinion of her already so thinking of this was not waking strong emotions in her. In spite of his feelings towards her, Peterson had never stalked her for extra opportunities to harass her.

In Majgen's experience most higher ranking mentarions were not as withholding as Femaron Peterson. Not when it came to turning feelings of resentment into acts of retribution. She considered it childish of him to still hold on to his dislike of her four years after losing close contact with his friend. Majgen knew that he, like herself, had long been aware that she was not to blame for what had happened. It was true she was the direct cause, but she had not known better back then, and that was not her fault. Yet, Peterson's decision not to act on his resentment placed him higher in Majgen's esteem than the majority of the teaching staff.

Student Majgen Rahan acted even more respectfully towards the people in the Mentariata than etiquette required. Her every sentence was carefully phrased to express her inferior status. Every movement she made carefully rehearsed to express humility.

It had taken her a lot of practice and thinking to master fine details in language, tone and posture that could be used to look and sound pleasingly respectful to the normal human senses. Two years ago she had finally mastered all those aspects.

She could not change her feelings however, could not make those just as pleasing to the minds of the mentarions around her. She could not help that the sight of different mentarion rank colours did not affect the amount of respect she would feel, or not feel, towards the person wearing them.

What rank a mentarion could achieve was not merely determined through hard work and skill. The highest rank a particular mentarion could possibly achieve was determined by what empathic strength he was born with.

Amongst humans mental power was very rare. Only one in a million had any kind of empathic abilities and it was estimated that only one in 80 million was born with a potential strong enough to become a mentarion. In a total human population of 3.6 million million people, 3,600,000,000,000. The total amount of known human empaths was well past three million, but there was only about 45,000 known mentarions.

"Stay with us here at the Mentariata a while, Femaron Baglian. Give her some private lessons. Watch her in the halls." Femaron Peterson consciously listed suggestions to Baglian. "We could even have her temporarily assigned to serving duty at the Visiting Lecturers' Centre. Just to give you a proper chance to see her obstructive nature."

Femaron Peterson's words startled several of the teachers. One of them, Femaron Nero, had to restrain herself to let Femaron Peterson finish talking before she spoke.

"We will under no circumstances assign Student Majgen Rahan to ANY duties ANYWHERE in the vicinity of the visiting lecturers' centre."

Femaron Nero slammed her mouth shut to stop at that. If not for the strict protocols, regarding teachers' interactions in front of students, she would have braved professional mentarion etiquette and have proceeded to direct insults of Peterson. She normally respected him professionally, but the thought of Majgen let loose on esteemed visiting mentarions made her stomach clench. 

The Femarons all went quiet after Nero's outburst. Majgen sensed the five teachers gathering their composure. Baglian, however, did not feel uncomfortable about the scene he had just witnessed. Other Femarons indulging in quarrels unworthy of persons of their rank and status simply assured him that he was superior to them. A detail which Majgen couldn't help but notice.

After a while Femaron Kradi spoke, "Femaron Peterson, I must second Femaron Nero's opinion. Student Majgen may not be allowed near visiting lecturers."

Then Kradi turned to address Baglian again. "Ottearon Weissme specifically recommended that you, Femaron Baglian, were well equipped to handle Student Majgen." Femaron Kradi paused a moment, hesitating before revealing an extra detail in front of Majgen. "He implied that you might be our last hope before giving up and signing her over to the weaker empaths."

Majgen would not be able to dampen her emotional response to those words by focusing on trivia, and she knew that well. The subject of what would happen if the school gave up on her had come up on several occasions in her past. She instantly raised a mind shield to hide her emotions from the Femarons.

Raising a mind shield amongst superiors was a breach of etiquette for students, but letting the teachers know her feelings on this subject was very risky. She knew that from experience.

None of the five teachers present had had much direct contact with her. She had never been taught by any of them. Majgen perceived what emotional response Femaron Kradi expected her to get after his mention of the weaker empaths. It was evident he had no concept of her true feelings about that possibility.

The six Femarons all noticed her shielding, but none of them corrected her. Five of them assumed her shield was raised to hide feelings of dread at the threat of expulsion. Most of them could feel a shiver themselves at the concept of being discarded, of being unworthy of a mentarion's important role in society.

Femaron Baglian knew better.

Ottearon Antwoine Weissme, leader of the Mentariata, had contacted him personally the day after the Mentariata's official request for his presence had been delivered to the arrogant Femaron. Amongst other things he had also informed Femaron Baglian of Majgen's unusual feelings about her career as a mentarion.

"I would not like to see a mentarion go to waste," said Baglian, "there are not enough of us to discard the unworthy, not as long as there is any chance of salvation. If Ottearon Weissme has said that I am the best hope for that girl to become useful to society, then I will not turn my back on my duty."

Baglian reached for his wallet. Like most mentarions, he kept it in a wrist pocket on the underside of his arm. The skin-tight inner sleeve of mentarion uniforms was particularly suited for this use. The looser outer sleeve hid the undecorative lump formed by the wallet.

As Baglian placed his wallet on the table it was a small black rod, a bit thinner than his little finger and half as long as his hand from wrist to tip of index finger.

"Wallet five crimson unfold horizontal shape five."

The wallet unfolded itself, becoming a flat screen lying horizontally on the table -- what Baglian called 'shape five' in his personalised settings.

Using personalised voice commands for a wallet was quite common. It was easy to forget to turn voice command adherence off before talking to people, hence most people used a voice activation code in front of each command. Baglian had activated continuous voice adherence when saying 'wallet five crimson'. He trusted his own ability to remember to turn voice adherence off before talking to people.

"Open travelling. Open flight planner. Departure time after five hours."

The last was an unusual personalisation setting most people would for travelling programs speak a full standardised 'Departure time later than five hours from now'.

Majgen felt irritation rising in the other Femarons, caused by Femaron Baglian's continued use of voice commands. In screen-size he could have easily controlled the wallet with his fingertips. By using voice commands Baglian had put them in a position where talking would be discourteous of them.

The rhythm of the spoken commands interrupted Majgen's stream of trivial thoughts. After raising a mind shield, Majgen had intensified her efforts to dampen her emotions. She was aiming to make her emotions sufficiently level and appropriate to lower her mind shield. Preferably sooner than one of the Femarons should decide to order her to do so.

Majgen switched strategy and listened intently to Baglian's voice commands instead.

He filled in search fields for a travel between Ceasar, the planet they were on, and a place called Drom which she wasn't familiar with. By the time he was adding sort fields Majgen's emotions were steady and about as interesting as a storage inventory. She lowered her mind shield.

After a while, Baglian's wallet presented him a list of suitable travel plans, he stopped speaking commands and skimmed the top of the list. In the sudden quiet Majgen inadvertently gained the knowledge of why he had used voice, rather than touch, commands.

His primary reason had been to demonstrate a good voice personalisation system so the other Femarons could learn from his wisdom and benefit greatly. Majgen immediately grasped the irony of how much the other Femarons, who were unaware of his motives, did not appreciate his efforts. She could prevent her face from smiling, but couldn't stop the humorous feeling itself fast enough.




Majgen Ch. 001



"Wallet five red." Baglian spoke his personalised 'deactivation of voice command' code without raising his eyes from the travel list.

"What's so funny, Student Majgen?" he asked, in the same neutral tone.

'Oh no,' thought Majgen. As etiquette required, she raised her head to look at the Femaron who had addressed her. 'Please no. What am I gonna say, what can I say, think fast, what will not be offending?'

"I..." Majgen stopped after that word. 'Think of something fast, maybe say, 'Your voice commands'. No that's offensive.'

"I... I..." 'Oh no, I can't stall further, I am going to get such a beating now.'

"I don't know what to say," Majgen said as a desperate attempt to avoid the question, even though this particular strategy hardly ever worked.

"You are my personal student now, Student Majgen. Answer my question truthfully and directly or I will beat you."

"My sense of humour is inappropriate, Femaron Baglian." Majgen had finally thought of something suitable to say. She really hoped he would accept that, sometimes teachers did.

"My question, last chance." He spoke dispassionately still looking at the list of travels. 

Majgen could sense he really was feeling dispassionate, which was a good sign for her. But he was also serious, which was bad. She could also sense his mental countdown to the time at which he would punish her, if she didn't start talking sooner. 

'Almost out of time, oh no, oh no.'

"Your voice commands, Femaron Baglian." She expected a sudden rise of anger in him at that reply, and was surprised not to sense any anger in him at all.

"Is that the full truth, Student Majgen?" asked Baglian.

'Oh no, no, no, the ones who asks for elaboration always hit harder.' Majgen followed his new countdown for her reply with her senses, the same way her eyes would have stared at a clock if it had showed the same countdown, waiting till the last moment, hoping to find a better reply.

"No," she said just before his timer ran out. He moved his gaze from his wallet to her. He was still dispassionate in both appearance and emotions.

"The full truth, Student Majgen."

Majgen took a deep breath. 'Disobedience or offence, he has me cornered now. Disobedience might hurt less, but then I risk being punished twice.'

"Now!" Baglian stopped his mental timer early, as he sensed she was contemplating something other than wording.

"You..."

She halted feeling her sentence would be offensive. Her senses warned her that Baglian would not tolerate further stalling so she continued in spite of the potentially offensive content.

"... are proud of your voice command settings."

Sensing he knew she had more to say she didn't stop, even though she really wanted to.

"You wanted to demonstrate them." Majgen was hoping to be allowed to stop there, even took a breath to make a natural pause. But Femaron Baglian still looked at her, silently. He sensed she had more.

"The other Femarons didn't appreciate your effort," she finished.

Femaron Baglian was still dispassionate, the other Femarons were not. Most of them had felt secretly amused when her words targeted Baglian's voice commands, but when she mentioned their reaction they each felt anger of varying degrees. 

Majgen had expected this, she had seen it many times before. No matter how trivial the emotional reading she ever revealed getting from a high ranked mentarion, the response would be anger of some kind if the person had a mind shield up for privacy.

She couldn't help it, if her senses were open she sensed. To other mentarions sensing empathically was more like reaching out a hand and touching to feel. To her sensing was like listening with her ears. She could only stop it by shutting her empathic senses off completely, but years ago she had been strictly instructed never to do that unless directly ordered to.

"Is that correct, revered colleagues?" Baglian raised his eyebrows in an inquisitive but still dispassionate manner. Majgen could sense his countdown timer for the teachers' replies too. After three of them had nodded yes, he didn't bother to wait for the rest, before turning his eyes back to his wallet.

"Pity," was his dispassionate reflection on their lack of interest in his voice commands. 

Majgen came to think of an ancient proverb the meaning of which she didn't quite understand but she recognised the emotion associated with it.

'You can lead the horse to the water, but you can't force it to drink.' 

That was Femaron Baglian's emotion, the indifferent version of the emotion she associated with that proverb. Majgen was too scared of the beating she expected to wonder about Baglian's atypically indifferent responses to her knowledge.

"She is indeed perceptive, I didn't have a clue on that track." Femaron Baglian's emotions were more focused on the perspective of Majgen's perception than on his own lack of it. Majgen was grateful for that unusual thinking. She had plenty to fear with five more or less angry Femarons in front of her.

"What's so scary, Student Majgen?" asked Femaron Baglian, again browsing through travel options. This time Majgen didn't stall to make her wording more appropriate. Even though she had never seen his type of dispassionate behavioural pattern in a high ranked mentarion before, she was learning to adapt to his expectations already.

"My words were offensive, Femaron," she replied.

"Why is that scary?" 

"I fear the beating I will get now, Femaron." 

Femaron Baglian had apparently come across a particularly interesting travel option and took a moment to look it through before speaking again. 

"Are you sure you will get beaten now, Student Majgen?" He looked up at her.

A moment earlier she would have said yes, but now she knew he had no plans of doing it. Not as long as she did as he wanted.

"I was, Femaron," replied Majgen, somewhat mesmerised by the novelty of a high ranking mentarion who could handle offence if only it was truthful. She kept looking at Femaron Baglian. She felt him touching her mind slightly, reading her more thoroughly. Then he turned his attention back to his wallet. He spoke while making a closer inspection of another interesting travel option.

"You are my personal student now, Student Majgen. The others can't touch you without my permission."

Majgen blinked a few times. The concept was hard for her to grasp. She looked at him longer than she usually did when someone stopped talking before lowering her head and assuming her normal pose. Rather than try to grasp the meaning of his words, she again started thinking of trivia. Gaining understanding was usually best left for the time she spent alone in her own room. 

'When planning to travel by tube it is not enough to meet the normal sanitary requirements of intra-city public transportation. Remember to change your diet according to the guidelines for compact travel at least one week prior to stepping into the tube. Not only to respect your fellow passengers' right to a pleasant trip but also to avoid a fine. In case of unplanned emergency need to travel by tube a physician can...' 

Majgen had spent all her life in super-cities and extraction-worker habitats. She had never been under an open sky. Thinking of scent emission reduction measures was as trivial to her as thinking of comparisons between the costs of travelling by tube, train or flight. Femaron Baglian's focus on his travel plans had moved her mind to areas of travelling and transportation.

Nobody spoke a while, the teachers sat still, each with a stoic appearance. Femaron Baglian was tapping away at his wallet.

"Femaron Baglian, would you like to scan the girl before deciding if you want her in your charge?" asked Femaron Kradi, abandoning hope of Baglian getting done with his wallet within a courteous time frame.

"I already accepted her, Femaron Kradi," replied Femaron Baglian. "We will leave Ceasar sometime before nightfall. Will the Mentariata send whichever belongings she has apart from traditional clothing to my current address?"

"Yes, the Mentariata can do that if you prefer, Femaron Baglian."

"Tenth Ranked Student Majgen, go to your room and pack two full sets of traditional clothing in standard long distance containers. I want you and your containers with clothing standing ready and waiting for me at taxi gate 7 in less than three hours," listed Baglian.

He moved his eyes from his wallet to his new student, and delivered the rest of his orders in the exact same informative tone.

"If you arrive late I will beat you. If you pack anything but standard clothing I will beat you. If you ever act disobedient in any way I will beat you. You are my personal student now, my word is law, you have exactly three hours to get used to that. Those are your instructions for now, go."

Majgen's head was spinning, constantly thinking of trivia to remain uninteresting had certain disadvantages, such as keeping her out of touch with the surroundings, making changes harder to understand and adapt to. Luckily she didn't need to understand the new change in her life right now; she only needed to comply with the instructions. 

She bowed to the Femarons, backed a step, turned round, walked back to the students entrance and left the room.

*

Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID ellynei)

Votes come and go, comments are forever.

Please, don't be shy. You don't have to be sophisticated, educated, nor intoxicated to place a public comment, and you don't have to not be those things either.



Majgen Ch. 002



Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID ellynei)

----=(Femaron Braygen)=----

Student Majgen Rahan sat at her desk, intently observing the teacher - Femaron Braygen, desperately trying to understand what he was saying. This was at the beginning of her second year at the Mentariata - she was fourteen. At this time she was following several rank eight student courses, even though she was only a rank ten student.

Femaron Braygen's course caused her immense worries. This was the third of his classes Majgen attended, and she still didn't understand the topics he had been lecturing the first two times. In spite of her desperate desire to learn faster Majgen was severely behind the other students; she hardly understood a word Braygen said.

'This is an empath school,' thought Majgen. 'Maybe things will make more sense if I listen empathically? Things might be more clear if I listen with my empathic senses as well as my ears.' Other teachers had encouraged such attempts.

Majgen could not have foreseen what this innocent idea would lead to. Everything she had been told in her first year had convinced her that she -- a mere Tenth Ranked Student -- could not obtain private information from a Femaron, like Braygen, without his consent. After only one year at the Mentariata, neither Majgen nor anyone else knew there was something unusual about how much she could read from mental emanations -- how much she could sense in spite of mind shields.

Femaron Braygen appreciated his privacy as much as any graduated mentarion. To block his thoughts from the students he kept a mind shield up while lecturing. Normal rank eight -- or rank ten -- students wouldn't have been able to sense that the topic of this lesson wasn't at the top of his mind.

During his years as a teacher, Braygen had used this exact lecture many times, and needed not spare much thought on what to say. While lecturing the youngsters in basic mentarion matters, Femaron Braygen's mind was occupied by memories.

'His emotions doesn't match his words,' perceived Majgen. Though, she didn't feel confident about this conclusion; after only one year of living as an empath Majgen didn't really feel confident about anything empathic. Focusing harder, she tried to make sense of what she sensed. Soon, she forgot to listen to his words -- which she couldn't make sense of in the first place -- and instead listened only to his emanations.

If Majgen had been well-trained in the mentarion ways she might not have done this. Very early in the mentarion education, empaths were taught that basic emanations from other empaths would only imply the emotional state of the one transmitting them. They were taught that attempting to analyse emanations for further information would always be futile. Untrained as she was Majgen did not attempt to analyse. Opening her senses as best she knew how, she listened with her feelings only.

Majgen did not know that others would consider it impossible to read anything other than pure emotion that way, she also did not know they were wrong.

At first Majgen felt a muddy emotional blur, but suddenly images and sounds came. The feelings became organised as Majgen entered one of Braygen's memories.

(o)

'This was a great idea,' thought Braygen, enjoying his daughter's happy emotions.

The little girl was practically squealing with delight, excitedly staring at her birthday present. A little puppy which Braygen still held in his arms.

"Happy birthday." Braygen smiled. He had wanted to make her birthday special, ten was after all a round year, and he had succeeded to excess.

(o)

It was an overwhelmingly happy memory. In it Majgen felt the emotions of both Braygen, his daughter, and the puppy. Braygen was a Femaron, a well-trained mentarion. When he used his empathic abilities the emotions of those he sensed were vivid and clear. Many of his memories were emotional from two or three ways, because of emotions sensed from those around him.

After the first memory, more came to her. The uneducated student experienced a stream of Braygen's memories from the duration of the dog's life.

She saw the pet die too.

(o)

"Those lungs won't bother you much longer," whispered Braygen, petting the old dog as she dozed off. "You go to sleep now."

She had lived a long life for a dog, but now her lungs had become too age torn for her to live well. Braygen had given her an overdose of sleeping pills meant for humans. He petted her old fur, waiting for the pills to work.

The animal went unconscious and Braygen started crying. Tears rolled down his cheeks, as he was filled with an immense feeling of loss. After the dog died he kept petting her fur for more than an hour. He had loved her, especially because she had loved him back, unconditionally.

(o)

The sorrow surrounding the dog's death struck Majgen hard. Far sooner than she could adapt to her own emotional response to that memory, Braygen switched to thinking of earlier memories of time spent with the dog. Emotions of remembered happiness swept over Majgen as he did this. Along with this happier memories, of his, began bombarding her mind too. Braygen's feelings, the ones he had in the past and the ones he were having now when thinking of the past, swam freely and uncontrolled in Majgen's head - affecting her emotions.

Like most Femarons teaching the younger classes, Braygen had a teacher's aide. A higher ranked student who could manage simple tasks for the teacher, such as keeping track of how attentive the students were.

Femaron Braygen's aide noticed Majgen's mixed emotions. The current subject was of a rather dry nature; the Tenth Ranked Student's emotional state was in stark contrast to that of the other students present. That alone was plenty reason for him to suspect she was not focusing on the lecture.

He walked to her. Placing his hands on her student desk, he bent over it to look straight into her eyes. Majgen, lost in Femaron Braygen's memories, didn't even notice the aide's face right in front of her own.

"What are you thinking about, Student?" asked the aide, with a commanding tone, waking Majgen back to the present.

Speechless, Majgen stared back at the aide. She had not been thinking, she had been intensely watching memories. The experience had had a profound impact on her, for a few moments she had even forgotten who and where she was. Driven by an anxiety she couldn't place in her dazed state, Majgen desperately tried to catch up to the present, to give a proper answer.

She was too slow.

The teacher's aide waited about three seconds for a reply, when he didn't get one he brutally invaded her mind. His entry so sudden and forceful that Majgen rocked back in her chair from pain and surprise.

"Puppy!" the aide exclaimed with a sarcastic imitation of a small girl's happy whine. He continued to inform the whole class exactly what he saw in her mind, misinterpreting the images in Majgen's mind to be samples of her own memories.

"You were thinking about the cutest, little adorable puppy. An animal! That you loved soooo much. You cried like a baby when it died, because you had loved it more freely than you loved anyone else. An animal!" Theatrically, he turned to the whole class with his arms spread out.

"Can anyone believe that? She loved an animal more than she loved people."

Except for Majgen, all the students laughed at that notion. The initial pain from the aide's violent intrusion on her mind abated; once again Majgen could sense empathically. She felt how most of the students were humoured by what they thought was her ridicule. Her senses also told her that, in spite of his broad smile, the aide was not emotionally involved in the ridicule. Ridiculing students who were not paying attention to class was normal procedure, just another tool to enforce strict discipline in the Mentariata. Most importantly, however, Majgen also felt Femaron Braygen's emotions. Right then, those were very strong.

Shock, disbelief and pure burning rage.

The aide bent over Majgen's desk again to scan her further.

"You really, really loved that dog. You especially felt a craving for the animal's love because your..." The aide halted mid-sentence as he realised his mistake. He had been about to say 'wife'. Majgen was a fourteen year old girl, she could never have had a wife. The aide's eyes widened and he scanned her more closely for a second, then abruptly left her mind.

In complete silence, the aide raised a mind shield, took his hands off Majgen's table, and straightened himself. Then, very slowly, he turned round to face Femaron Braygen.

"Class dismissed," Braygen hissed through his teeth.

Quickly, the students rose to scurry out of the room. They didn't understand what was happening, but they were rank eight students their sensing abilities were sufficiently developed to detect trouble. Majgen started to get up from her seat too, but Femaron Braygen pushed her back down with a heavy downwards shove on her shoulder. She was terrified. Even the teacher's aide was scared. He was a student too, the second highest rank - rank two, but no student could be safe from a teacher's wrath.

As soon as the classroom door closed behind the last pupil the teacher's aide started talking.

"Im sorry, I..." He was interrupted by a hard blow to his right cheek from Femaron Braygen's clenched fist.

"Open your mind," Braygen hissed to him.

The teacher's aide obeyed instantly and the Femaron entered his mind with a violence that nearly caused the aide to faint. The young man managed to stay conscious, but staggered back and had to sit on Majgen's desk to not fall to the floor. Within moments Braygen found that the Second Ranked Student had gained the information about his dog solely from the Tenth Ranked Student's mind.

Femaron Braygen pulled the teacher's aide off Majgen's desk with force. As the adult student fell to the floor, the respected teacher turned his full attention to Majgen.

While entering her mind, he walked behind her. Grabbing her head between his hands, he pressed his palms against her ears and spread his fingers out on her face. In his emanations, Majgen clearly felt the Femaron's rage. With him so close the impact of feeling that rage was immense. Her own fear was equally strong. On top of all this, Majgen suffered a severe headache from Braygen's violent entry to her mind. Through all this, she barely felt his hard physical hold on her.

While the Femaron scanned Majgen's mind to see which of his memories she had accessed, the teacher's aide crawled to the wall. Staying on the floor, he leaned his upper body towards the wall for comfort. The extreme outburst of rage which the respected Femaron Braygen displayed had shocked the older student and left him trembling with fear.

To spare himself from sensing more of the teacher's emotions, the aide turned his empathic senses off. Not wanting to know what Femaron Braygen was doing to the teenage girl, the aide closed his eyes too.

The teacher's rage intensified upon seeing how many of his memories the girl had caught. Other than himself, nobody had ever known of his special relationship with the dog. Not even his family. Mentarions were not supposed to bond mentally with animals at all, it was frowned upon. Now suddenly two students knew, one of them of the lowest possible rank. 

'That cursed girl,' thought Braygen. 'Of course it has to be the student whose mind gets scanned more frequently than any other in the recent history of the Mentariata.'

He knew at once that within days every single teacher at the Mentariata would have those memories, most likely half the student population too. The professional respect he had gained from colleagues and students through thirty years of teaching at the Mentariata would be gone in a matter of days.

'All because of one unbelievably troublesome snotty girl!' he raved silently.

At this moment Femaron Braygen did not care how she had gained his memories, he did not bother thinking of why either.

"Do you realise what you have done girl?" he snarled.

As soon as he said it she knew; she knew because he knew. Majgen saw it swiftly and clearly. She had ruined his career. In few days everyone at the Mentariata would know of his shame. Braygen would have to travel to a remote section of human-controlled part of space to escape it. Relocating to a distant space station or something similar would soon be the only way to escape the daily humiliation of facing mentarions who knew his secret. The knowledge made Majgen feel guilty, extremely guilty.

'It's my fault, it's my fault, it was me who did this,' she thought.

While submerging in her own guilt and shame Majgen unknowingly began to transmit self-destructive subconscious emanations. Similar to the ones that had so strongly affected twenty-three freshly hatched rank one mentarion students one year earlier.

If the Femaron had not been so angry he might have noticed. He might have taken measures to not be affected by it. In his enraged condition, however, he didn't notice. As Majgen's emanations started affecting him, Braygen lost himself completely in rage.

"So you like memories, do you!"

To the adult student at the wall the Femaron's words sounded like a growl. The aide was too terrified to be affected by Majgen's self-destructive emanations. Also, because he had shut his empathic senses off her emanations didn't reach his mind with full power.

"I will show you how to see memories!"

After screaming those words Femaron Braygen pulled Majgen through her own mind. He forced her directly into her memories of a dreadful day she had experienced one year earlier. He took Majgen to her memory of the day her empathic abilities had been discovered. He made her relive it, every moment of it, made her relive it much faster than it had happened.

One year ago her ordeal had lasted hours, Femaron Braygen made her experience it all over again over a time span of less than fifteen minutes. When he finally allowed her to wake from those memories she tried to fight him; she tried to push him out of her mind, but had no chance of success. Majgen had almost no training in the Mentarion Ways, Braygen was an experienced Femaron.

"Do you still like memories?" he screamed at her. Majgen wanted to scream 'NO', but Braygen yanked her mind back into her inner self again before she could make a sound.

This time he took her further back. He knew she had a genuinely traumatic childhood memory; he had never seen it himself, but had been informed of it. Majgen realised what memory he was going for an instant before he plunged her into it.

It was the day her parents got killed.

In the real world Majgen started screaming and her hands clawed at Femaron Braygen's on her cheeks.

In her mind Majgen was five years old. Her mother held her tight. Her mother was carrying her and her father was next to them. Her parents were running in a desperate attempt at survival.

In the real world Majgen's body went limp as she was pushed fully into the memory.

(o)

She looked over her mother's shoulder while her parents ran. Suddenly she saw a yijejo coming round a corner. There was a flash of light and everything disappeared.

When the child woke, she thought her mum and dad were still with her; their bodies were right next to her. She thought they were still sleeping. Even when she couldn't wake them, she kept believing they were still sleeping.

'Why is there so much smoke? Why can't I see Mum's legs?' wondered the little girl.

Horror, like no fear Majgen had ever felt before, filled her as she realised why she couldn't see her mother's legs. The woman's legs were no longer attached to her body. It took far longer for the small child to realise her parents would not wake again.

(o)

Femaron Braygen forced her through the memories of the following days at hard speed. When they had been all the way through he started over with the memory of her parents running.

For more than an hour, Braygen tortured Majgen's mind without interruption. No teachers had noticed that his class had been dismissed early. No teachers outside the classroom knew anything was amiss until Femaron Katlin Putin entered the room.

Expecting some quiet time while preparing for her class, Putin merely felt slightly surprised when she saw a limp Tenth Ranked Student held in a scanning position by Femaron Braygen; she had expected the room to be empty. Femaron Putin became genuinely puzzled, however, when she noticed the teacher's aide on the floor. The young man was still leaning against the wall. Sooner than she analysed his emanations, Putin realised the aide was in a state of shock.

Intending to ask her colleague what was happening, the woman took a few steps toward Femaron Braygen and the Tenth Ranked Student. Putin opened her mouth to speak but before she got a word out she felt a lump of anger rise in her own throat.

'Why am I angry?' wondered Putin.

At that moment Femaron Putin realised the student at the desk was Majgen Rahan. With that in mind she turned and ran back out the door. As soon as it closed behind her she called security from her portable communicator. Her call came through instantly; security staff at the Mentariata was never undermanned and very rarely overworked. 

"Security here," a male voice said.

"Emergency in Classroom 121," informed Putin, then paused a moment. She suddenly couldn't remember what she had planned to say.

"What's the nature of the emergency?" the male voice asked through her communicator.

"It's Majgen Rahan," began Putin, with an intention to elaborate as soon as words would come to her. It wasn't needed. Security was well aware of certain dangerous peculiarities of Student Majgen.

"How many are affected?" the security person immediately asked.

"There were two in the room with her - Femaron Braygen and his teaching aide." Femaron Putin paused again. Since she was a Femaron it would be degrading to air fears of having been influenced herself. Denying the possibility and being wrong could be far worse though. "I was in the room a moment too, I can't say for sure yet that I was not affected. If Student Majgen got to Femaron Braygen she is more dangerous than we thought."

"Stay where you are, help is coming."

For a short moment Femaron Putin heard no further from the voice, as the security person who had taken her call dispatched a security team. Then he spoke to her again.

"Would you like me to tell the team to sedate you too, Femaron Putin?"

He had initially guessed she was Femaron Putin, because her call came from a communicator assigned to Femaron Putin. He had chosen to use the computer to verify her identity by voice comparison, rather than distracting her by asking. Putin took a few seconds to consider his offer before replying.

"No, I think I got out in time. However, I would like some security personnel to stay with me a few minutes after Majgen is sedated. Just to be absolutely sure."

#

Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID ellynei) 



Majgen Ch. 003



----=(Taxi Gate 7, Part 1)=----

Taxi gate 7 was a hallway which appeared pleasing to the eye in a neutral manner. Below average human shoulder height the walls were coloured in a calm, not too bright, shade of blue. At shoulder height and above, the walls were also decorated with intricate ornaments. Bronze, gold and a few streaks of black dominated the ornaments.

Between ornaments the wall was coloured in the same blue shade as the lower part of the wall. Here, however, the blue was interrupted by smaller streaks of different red or yellow shades, cleverly placed to accentuate certain shapes of the ornaments.

Majgen could have stood on her own shoulders twice, without her head bumping into the ceiling.

The wall-ornaments did not reach into the ceiling, ornamented ceilings were unusual at Majgen's time because they tended to make ceilings appear closer than they were.

In super-cities free space between head and ceiling was not just a sign of wealth and status. It was also a well-known factor contributing to general well-being. To this end the wall ornaments, closest to the ceiling, had been cleverly designed with up-reaching flame-like shapes; giving the eye a feeling of freedom above. Also the transition between wall and ceiling was curved, to give an illusion of even more extra space.

The ceiling had a lighter blue shade. The gradual transition from the not too bright blue of the lower walls, to the light blue of the ceiling, began near the flame tips of the upper ornaments. 

Light sources were evenly spread across the ceiling. The designer had managed to give them an asymmetrical placement, that appeared random, while still giving an even pleasant lighting through the hallway. At one end the hallway ended at an elevator, which could take people arriving to different parts of the Mentariata. At the other end the hallway ended at a cab parking lot.

The hallway was as wide as it was high. The elevators doors, at one end of the hall, were as wide as the hallway. They were not ornamented like the walls, but they were colored in the same manner as the walls, apart from colors marking their sides; meant to make it obvious they were not mere walls.

The gates to the cab parking lot were see-through. Small ornaments, crafted in a similar style as the larger wall ornaments, were build into the see-through gate. Mostly to ensure that the inattentive would not hurt themselves by walking into the closed gate. The elevator doors in the other end of the hall would open automatically whenever an elevator arrived to let people get off or on. The see-through gates to the parking lot only opened by touching the artistically designed "touch to open" signs, which were placed at several strategic positions on these gates.

Majgen was standing at the wall, near the see-through gate. She had been in the hallway for nearly an hour. A first class cab was parked on the other side of the gate, it had arrived a few minutes earlier. Two black standard long distance containers stood next to Majgen. They were packed with two almost full sets of traditional rank 10 student uniforms and the corresponding amount of underwear.

Femaron Baglian had not needed to specify to her, that she should only pack standard clothing. Standard clothing was the only clothing she possessed. She did own more than two sets of each, but she had made sure only to pack two of each as she had been ordered. She had five different kinds of standard rank ten uniforms, so she had packed ten uniforms total.

The first three uniform types, she had packed, were different versions of the standard uniform, visually almost identical, but designed thermally to be worn at different environment temperature settings.

The fourth uniform type version, she had brought, was designed for optional thermal coating, so it could be used at different temperatures depending on what coating she put on it.

The fifth uniform type, in her containers, was ceremonial wear, meant for festive or special official occasions.

Baglian had ordered her to bring two full sets, she had complied with that order as fully as she could. However, she did not own any of the sixth uniform type; Pompous Ceremonial wear. In all her time at the Mentariata she had never been invited, nor ordered, to attend to a gathering requiring Pompous Ceremonial wear.

Since shortly after her enroll to the mentarion school; Majgen's access to her own money had been blocked. For this reason Majgen was, unlike most mentarion students, unable to make any purchases without permission from her so called student counsellors.

Four years back, she had asked if she should acquire a Pompous Ceremonial uniform, back then she had been told; to wait till a situation arose that would require such an attire. She had been fourteen years old at that time, her student counsellor saw no reason for her to waste large amounts of cash on clothing she would most likely outgrow sooner than getting an opportunity to use it.

Majgen had stopped growing at age sixteen, but she had not brought up the topic of Pompous wear again. By that time it seemed unlikely that she - Majgen the troublemaker - would be asked to attend such solemn or ceremonious events. Now at age eighteen, after five years in the Mentariata, she still had never been asked to such an event.

Student Majgen suffered from more than a slight level of anxiety for the reason of not having been able to fully comply with Femaron Baglian's orders. She had not thought about Pompous Ceremonial wear for years. It had not occurred to her that she did not own two full sets of traditional clothing. At least not when she received the order to pack exactly that, almost three hours ago.

She severely regretted her failure to remember the incompletion of her wardrobe back then. 

'I should have informed him immediately,' Majgen berated herself silently, 'I am sure he would not choose to punish me for not being able to comply fully with his instructions, if only I had told him at once when he gave the order.' Majgen now feared it was too late to rectify her negligence.

On top of this worry, Majgen was also nervous about this new change in her life.

Becoming the personal student of a higher ranking mentarion was not a normal occurrence for tenth ranked students. Majgen had never before heard of tenth ranked students entering personal study programs. She had heard of a few powerful second and first ranked students temporarily being assigned to private study with Femarons or Firearons. However, she knew that the personal study program was primarily meant for the freshly graduated mentarions; the Etarons.

Majgen was somewhat familiar with the basic rules and mechanics of the personal student system, when an Etaron was assigned as a personal student, but she did not know what rights, if any, an ungraduated mentarion had when living as a personal student.

----=(Majgen's Status)=----

An Etaron would have been presented with a contract, which would specify the terms of a particular student/mentor relationship. An etaron would get the choice to sign the contract and hence become a personal student, or not sign and thus not study under that mentor. She had not been offered a contract. She was an ungraduated mentarion, therefore she had not legally come of age, she was not legally adult in matters of personal freedom.

If Majgen had not been a mentarion she would have legally come of age at her seventeenth birthday. By mentarion special law a mentarion was not legally adult until graduation, no matter what age they would reach prior to that time. Legally she was a minor, and legally the Mentariata was her guardian. 

Before she was discovered to be empathic, she had daydreamed of her seventeenth birthday, she had fantasized about what she could do with such freedom.

In her early years at the Mentariata, where the age seventeen was no longer the mark of freedom, Majgen had many times thought about her future graduation, how her life would change once she became Etaron. She had tried to quell an often devastating feeling of despair at her situation with thoughts of how it would end one day. She had managed to keep the dream of graduation alive for nearly four years.

At bedtime on the evening of her seventeenth birthday, the old daydream would not come to her. This was the first time her fantasy had failed her when going to bed.

In the non-empathic world, the normal world, Majgen would have been adult that evening, but in the mentarion world she was still the lowest possible student rank. She had become seventeen, a fully grown woman, but in reality she was the legal equivalent of a ten year old.

That evening, instead of her usual daydream before sleep; Majgen had had a grim realization.

'They will probably never let me graduate. I will be lucky to ever be allowed to rise to a higher student rank.'

She had not let herself cry for at least half a year before that night, red eyes could cause attention. That night, however, she had not tried to stop the tears, she would not have been able to stop them either. She had cried and she had screamed into her pillow, while she had pressed her face against the soft fabric trying to muffle the noise of her anguish.

Loud sounds in her room, would have caused an alert to be sounded at security, which would have prompted security personnel to inspect the visual from her room on their monitors.

Majgen had cried for hours on end, until her body had gotten so exhausted it had fallen into a restless form of nightmare filled sleep. 

The next day she had been given some special leeway by her teachers, it was very unusual for Majgen to be given any leeway. She had however, been too dazed and sleep deprived to notice that her unusual extra leisure time that day was not just a coincidence. Mentarion training was in many ways very insensitive and cold, but not even her supervisors had been blind to the emotional pressure of reaching age seventeen and still wearing a rank 10 uniform.

----=(Taxi Gate 7, Part 2)=----

Before the cab arrived Majgen had switched between pacing the hallway and studying the beautiful wall ornaments, to calm her nerves. She had several times reached out to touch them, straining to make herself feel delight in the artwork. Thinking of trivia was a good method to calm herself, but she didn't think of trivia at that time, she wanted to keep her head clear. She had to try to understand her new situation before Femaron Baglian arrived. While she was alone she could truly contemplate freely, without fear of infuriating others by her inappropriate manner of thinking.

When the cab arrived she had immediately ceased her restless behaviour. While being alone with the Mentariata security cameras; acting as if she was unseen was not improper. However, when she was in within view of another human, especially a non-empathic one, she had to uphold dignified mentarion appearance. That duty applied to even the lowest ranking mentarions.

As soon as she had eyed the cab, Majgen had pulled her hood up and placed herself next to her luggage. She had assumed her most used pose, her humble awaiting pose. She took the cab's arrival as a sign that Femaron Baglian would soon show himself. In preparation for the arrival of a higher ranked mentarion Majgen began thinking of trivia, once again slowly burying her personality and intellect behind a wall of boring inessential thoughts. 

'The human government is divided into six divisions, the first five each assigned control of specific tasks, the sixth has only one task which is to ensure proper law-abiding functioning in the others, as well as cooperation between the other five. The governmental sections are named according to their primary tasks.' Majgen proceeded to list each section to herself.

'Governmental Resource Division, GRD.

Governmental living Habitat planning Division, GHD.

Governmental Tax Division, GTD.

Governmental Legislative Division, GLD.

Governmental law Enforcing Division, GED.

Governmental Cooperation Division, GCD...' Majgen did not need pauses to memorize the exact wording from her childhoods schoolbooks on the subject of governmental organization.

Back when she had been eleven and was first learning about governmental structure in school, most children in the class had trouble staying awake each time this part was recited. In spite of the class clowns usually making a racket when the teacher reached the really dry parts. She had made an effort to stay attentive though, she wanted to do well in school back then. She had already started making half clear plans for her future when she was nine years old.

Majgen did on occasion feel a yearning to change position to be able to look at a clock, but her extensive training in self-control made it easy for her to resist those urges. Clocks were cleverly built into the wall ornaments at many places. Inconspicuous placement of multiple clocks was a very common feature in areas specifically designed for mentarions. 

One of the tricks mentarions used to uphold a dignified appearance was to not fidget about time, at least not in visible manners. A non-empathic would hardly ever be able to catch a graduated mentarion looking at a clock to check the time, unless of course they had directly asked one what time it was. If Majgen had chosen a neutral, rather than a humble, pose. She could have easily checked the time from clocks on the opposing wall, in an imperceptible manner.

The only movements she made while standing next to her luggage, was shifting her weight on her feet about once a minute to make sure her feet and legs would not tire from standing unnaturally still.

Baglian arrived a bit more than twenty minutes after the cab parked outside the gate. 

When the elevator arrived it's doors opened by sliding completely into the walls. The elevator doors were as wide as the hallway itself, but the elevators interior space luxuriously reached even wider to the sides.

All the way from the exit gate where she stood, Majgen could feel that the person stepping out of the elevator was Femaron Baglian and that he was alone. She pulled her hood down and turned to face in his direction, however, she kept her head bowed still. When he was only a few meters from her she bowed in the mentarion fashion. 

After the bow, she raised her head fully to look directly at him, by then he was already right in front of her.

Emotionally Femaron Baglian was still as dispassionate as she remembered him. Majgen would have expected the face of someone who seemed so unusually dispassionate to reflect a lack of exercise, to somehow appear slack, like an arm that never lifted any weight. However, there was nothing lazy about Femaron Baglian's facial features, his face looked as stern and solemn as the faces of most higher ranking mentarions did, when they were not actively displaying lighter emotions.

The Femaron raised both hands and placed his palms on her ears. A scanning position. 

Majgen's heart started beating faster, sooner than she could consciously feel even a hint of fear.

'Mind scan in a hallway,' Majgen thought as her mouth suddenly felt dry. The young woman had many bad memories regarding hallway scans. Many incidents starting with hallway scans had ended with very unpleasant outcomes for her.

Baglian sedated her mind mildly using an image of the color blue from his own memories. Majgen accepted the sedation gratefully, in a sedated state she was far less likely to think up new inappropriate thoughts.

Femaron Baglian did not rush his scan of Majgen, a first class cab would not leave without its passengers. Especially not since its meter had started running from the moment Femaron Baglian had pre-ordered it to arrive.

At first he investigated certain aspects of her mind, which Ottearon Weissme had described to him verbally.

Baglian was sufficiently arrogant to consider himself equal to an Ottearon in many ways. However, his choice to certify the Ottearon's words were not based on a lack of trust in the estimates of the far higher ranked mentarion. Rather his motivation arose with knowledge of how limited words were for describing ways of the mind.

By using his empathic senses, he could understand more and see more clearly, than words could ever describe in a single audiovisual long range communication. Even words phrased with the verbal skills of Ottearon Weissme.

----=(Baglian's Arrogance)=----

Baglian was a very arrogant man, but even he had not been too presumptuous to be impressed by a private call from an Ottearon. Especially one who occupied such an important post in the mentarion society.

Ottearon Weissme was leader of the Mentariata, the most prestigious of the three mentarion schools.

The rank Ottearon was the second highest mentarion rank, seven ranks higher than a freshly graduated mentarion. Femaron rank was a well respected rank amongst mentarions, but compared to Ottearon rank it was quite inferior.

The rank system for graduated mentarions was named after the numbers one to nine as spoken in a long dead language. When the empathic minority had been freed from slavery and the mentarion rank system had initially been established, the founders of the mentarion ways had simply taken the numbers one to nine in from that dead language and had added -aron to the end, to create suitable rank titles.

Etaron, was the lowest graduate rank, anyone with empathic potential strong enough to be called mentarion also had potential to reach at least one rank above this to become Toaron. The next ranks in line were Trearon, Firearon, Femaron, Seksaron, Syvaron, Ottearon and Niaron.

Not every generation contained an empath strong enough to be achieve Niaron rank, at Majgen's time there was only one living mentarion carrying the Niaron rank.

Weissme had called Femaron Baglian, to urge the Femaron to accept the Mentariata's summon.

During the call the superior mentarion had treated Baglian with genuine courtesy and respect, as he would have an equal in rank. He had insisted that the Femaron should make himself comfortable, while clearly stating that the call was an informal call between colleagues. However, Ottearon Weissme had made sure not to request cessation of titulation by rank, he wanted Femaron Baglian to remain awed to be contacted personally by an Ottearon.

Ottearon Weissme was counted amongst the ten most powerful mentarions who were alive at that time, a master in the ways of the mind.

Most Ottearons had been absorbed so much by the ways of the mind that they had trouble with long distance communication, empathic senses could not be transmitted by mechanical means like voice and sound could. Most mentarions above Syvaron rank had even forgotten how to properly read a full context from tone, wording and body language alone.

Weissme ,however, had not let his verbal skills fade with time while increasing his mastery of the mentarion ways. On the contrary, he had learned to use his knowledge of how words and expressions wake emotions to increase his skill at spoken communication. 

At his current age of sixty-five Weissme could often manipulate people more easily by words and expression, than if he had attempted direct mind control to gain same means person to person.

During the long range call, Ottearon Weissme had played on Baglian's arrogance as if it was a musical instrument. He wanted Baglian to accept Majgen as a personal student, and he wanted the Femaron to feel good about it. 

Weissme had heard of Baglian's personality from another high ranked mentarion. That mentarion, a Syvaron, (only one mentarion-rank below Ottearon,) had also shown him memories of looking into Femaron Baglians mind.

Normally the very high-ranked mentarions considered extreme arrogance a nuisance, a too arrogant mind-set would obstruct a mentarion from interpreting his surroundings as clearly as his empathic abilities could allow.




Majgen Ch. 003



Extraordinarily arrogant mentarions tended to mold the feelings they perceived on a near conscious level, to better fit their own view of the world. Weissme's source for knowledge of Baglian, had spent the first year after his graduation studying under Femaron Baglian. 

The Syvaron had shown Ottearon Weissme several memories of occasions where Femaron Baglian had misinterpreted sarcasm for sincerity. Misinterpreting sarcasm was very rare amongst freshly graduated mentarions and should have been impossible for a Femaron, since Femaron was four ranks above the lowest graduated rank; Etaron.

Ottearon Weissme had never met or heard of such an arrogant person reaching Femaron rank. Never until the moment he had aired the hypothetical possibility that such a person could be the solution to the 'Majgen Rahan problem'.

----=(Taxi Gate 7, Part 3)=----

Majgen was swimming in the image of colour blue. Something that Femaron Baglian had once seen and was now giving her, in a more intense form. She was not used to that type of sedation during a mind scan.

It was pleasant, like a dream.

However, it was less like sleeping than other kinds mind sedation she had been exposed to. Unlike what she was used to; she felt fully aware while being sedated by Baglian. She just felt more interested in the image of blue than in any of her worries.

Ottearon Weissme had informed Femaron Baglian that Majgen Rahan was neither delusional nor dimwitted. That her peculiar ideas in general were more likely directly caused by her upbringing, than by flaws in her sense of logic. At one point in the conversation the Ottearon had said: 

"Most of her unusual ways can be explained by the random mechanisms behind moral, philosophical and political indoctrination during an underprivileged insecure childhood, Femaron Baglian."

Later Ottearon Weissme had gone as far as saying:

"Considering the girl is a 'Hawlun-orphan', we should praise whichever luck has kept her from obtaining permanent mental damage."

Femaron Baglian had much experience in searching human minds for mental damage. For several years, his primary work-field had been aiding mentally sick people. He was referred to such patients frequently from the Mentaricon, but also worked in fields of mental sickness privately.

He did not need much time in Majgen's mind to understand Ottearon Weissme's position on the matter of the young woman's mental health. The young woman standing in front of him was in many ways a nervous, insecure girl. Fear would easily come to her. However, Baglian could swiftly establish that her anxious nature was a healthy state of alert, grown from the constant danger of corporal punishment she had lived with for the last five years.

As soon as he started investigating specific memories, he was amazed at how vivid her mental readings of her surroundings were. He himself as a Femaron could see the minds of others very clearly once he entered their minds to perform scans. However, without actively probing he only got basic emotional readings from mentarions or weaker empaths close to him.

Non-empathic people did not emanate, no mind-reader ever got mental sense input from them without entering their minds.

Baglian had on many occasions looked into the minds of stronger mentarions and understood exactly in which ways mental senses were amplified with stronger empathic potential. He had even forced memories from the minds of several yijejo prisoners of war, once they had been broken by torture and drugs. 

The yijejo were a fully empathic species. No yijejo was born with less mental potential; than what was needed for a human to obtain the highest ever mentarion rank, Niaron. The majority of yijejos had far more mental power potential than any human had ever had.

To experience some of Majgen's memories of being around mentarions, from the last few years, was to Baglian like seeing a whole new world. It was a bit similar to the difference between having watched trees on a two-dimensional monitor for years, and then one day walking in a forest. Seeing, smelling, hearing and touching. 

'Not even the yijejos sense like this,' he thought. 'Is she stronger than the average yijejo? Or is this extreme sensitivity something else?'

Ottearon Weissme had said: "The girl evidently possesses a strong empathic potential, it would be a true shame to let such potential be wasted." Baglian was now sure that this had been an understatement. He was sure; the girl, as she was, would obviously already now be a valuable resource if assigned to proper tasks.

With more training, he was convinced, Majgen would become an invaluable asset in the right hands. Baglian did not immediately spend time thinking of ways a unique empath like Student Majgen could be put to good use, he estimated there would be plenty time for that later. Instead he continued his scan, he wanted a broader insight of her personality.

Baglian found that Majgen was convinced; she had often been punished for thinking differently at the mentarion school.

Like any other mentarion, Baglian too had received beatings from teachers on multiple occasions during his time studying at a mentarion school. He suspected that some of those had been caused by teachers' displeasure with his opinions. Since no teacher had admitted such a motive to him he could not know for sure, not even in retrospect. Baglian was unable to gain extensive information through a mind shield and teachers at mentarion schools almost always had mind shields up around students.

Majgen, however, could sense many motivations clearly in spite of mind shields, whether she wanted to or not.

The Femaron wanted to get an estimate of her ability to interpret situations correctly. In her semiconscious mind he focused on her impression of; the dangers of inappropriate thinking. From that point he backtracked the causes for that impression, to find memories of incidents where Majgen had come to believe she had been punished for her thinking.

'How many of these associations lead to separate memories of punishments?' Baglian wondered as he found that the impression he was tracking in her mind was based on a multitude of conscious-, semiconscious-, and subconscious-based interpretation chains. He picked one of the stronger associations and traced it back to a memory.

'Student Majgen interprets this to be a clear case of her having been punished for thoughts rather than actions,' was Baglian's understanding of the interpretation chain he had passed to get to the memory. He was not startled to find she was correct.

'It's amazing how little she needs to rely on assumptions to interpret the actions of mentarions around her.'

Baglian chose to trace and study ten more memories of corporal punishment linked to Majgen's impression of dangers of inappropriate thinking. In each of the memories he studied there was no doubt Student Majgen had been punished for her thoughts and opinions.

Amongst the eleven he saw nine occasions where she had obviously been punished in direct contrast to the set code of 'Freedom of Thought for Students'.

He also saw one occasion where, in his estimate, a slap on the face followed by a verbal reprimand would have been a proper punishment, but rather than this standard reaction, Majgen had been given a painful whipping.

In only one of the eleven memories did he see a clear case of offense to mentarion school rule-set on Majgen's part, the beating which had followed this particular event had been suitable for the offense.

Femaron Baglian was severely unimpressed by the way Mentariata staff had imposed so strong fears of punishment in Majgen. He was not blind to the value of fear of corporal punishment, when used to motivate mentarion students further to do their best. However, in Majgen the fear had become too dominant.

Practically all other possible motivations to comply with the strict education at the Mentariata had been forced aside, faster than they could show themselves to her conscious mind.

Ironically the absence of more duty based motivation in her, had been yet another cause for further harassment.

Baglian had on several occasions had the displeasure of having to clean up after similar abuse. Healing the minds of mentarion students broken by too many severe punishments or too much fear. Especially after repeated breaches of the code of 'Freedom of Thought for Students'.

Sometimes Baglian had subsequently gotten a chance to address the persons responsible for such break downs directly. On such occasions he had always seized the opportunity to look straight at them with a condescending scowl and say:

"The code of 'Freedom of Thought for Students' was made for a reason."

If the teacher had been put up for severe reprimands or had been fired, Baglian would follow the first statement with some clear and demeaning comments; these usually of a type which expressed Femaron Baglian's view on the intellectual level of an individual who would inadvertently cause severe break down in a student.

After gaining this early insight into what Majgen's life as a student had been like, Femaron Baglian left her memories a while to examine her mind for signs of stress syndromes. His skills at finding signs of harmful disorders were highly developed. Even obscure symptoms, that often evaded the average mentarion, hardly ever escaped his disciplined and methodic searches.

Majgen was obviously very unhappy about her life as a student, she had lived a life dominated by fear and despair for five years. He feared she might have suffered some subtle forms of long term damage.

At this time, Baglian no longer felt much confidence in Ottearon Weissme's assurances that the girl was mentally stable. Femaron Baglian had correctly gotten the impression that Weissme had not personally scanned Student Majgen for years.

Femaron Baglian feared that the Ottearon's information about Majgen's mental health, might be incorrect. Especially if it had come from the same teachers, who had exposed her to such potentially harmful abuse. He had some experience with such mentarions, who had so little understanding of the mechanics of mental health. 

"Usually such mind-readers are as unskilled at diagnosing harm, as they are successful at applying it," he thought to himself while searching for unhealthy discrepancies in his new personal student.

Femaron Baglian was very relieved to find that Majgen's mind had no traces of permanent damage. Her anxiety was superficial, even though it was clear and evident, it was only skin deep. He found that Majgen Rahan was not merely mentally stable, she was mentally sound.

After Baglian had gained a detailed picture of Student Majgen's mental health, he started planning how he should deal with her, he contemplated on the future course of her training. He did not take the responsibility of training such a unique mentarion power as hers lightly . 

'She is already eighteen, she should have been near ready to contribute to society by now,' Baglian thought. As her personal teacher, her mentor, it was his duty to teach her to use her abilities as fast as possible. 

He began a further analysis of her mind, this time his priority was to estimate how strictly he could push her into his training without risk of causing mental damage in her. To this end he also investigated what had made her able to survive the hardships of her last five years. 

When training students in the past, Baglian had many times peeled several behavioural habits out of them, both habits of thought and habits of action. However, it was very important not to rip away even obstructive habits without consideration.

Baglian expected that if he gained an understanding of how Student Majgen had managed to stay healthy through so hard times, then he could use that knowledge to estimate what it would be safe for him to peel out fast and what he needed to leave be for a while.

His aim was to obtain the swiftest possible, but still risk free, progress with her training.

----=(Majgen's Motivation)=----

Baglian was already aware of the problematics regarding Majgen's motivations for working with the training. Most personal students he had trained were eager to learn, primarily because they were eager to be promoted to higher ranks. Femaron Baglian would usually strengthen such motivations by making those students aware of how humiliating a position as personal student could be.

Majgen had long since stopped believing she would be promoted, no matter how hard she tried. It was evident to Baglian that at this time her only motivation to comply with his training would be the same motivation that drove her to follow any orders. He had already understood that her only motivation for that was fear of punishment. 

'Fear of pain simply won't suffice for healthy, swift training,' Baglian thought, 'not in the long run.'

'Maybe I will find more constructive motives in her along the way, if none surfaces on their own I will eventually need to pry some out of her. Not by mind control though. Her motivations needs to be truly her own, those are the only kinds to instill the desire to learn and improve, which I need in her.'

Baglian hoped the student would develop motives based on a sense of duty. He had enough self-control to work with students, whose motivations seemed despicable to him. The same way he would have enough self-control to perform his duties if he had to work in a sewer. It was doable, but not pleasant.

----=(Majgen's Anxiety)=----

Another problematic was Majgen's general level of anxiety.

'She has somehow learned to live with the fear,' Baglian concluded silently to himself, 'but there is no doubt it has had, has, and will have an inhibiting effect on all her learning processes.'

Majgen's anxiety was based on a sensible state of alert, as a response to daily insecurity. A natural reaction to a very real danger of being exposed to physical pain. After thorough investigation the young woman did not appear particularly fragile to Baglian.

'Her anxiety would not have risen this high if the normal codes for student treatment had been observed,' Baglian thought to himself with certainty.

Majgen had been exposed to an immense amount of pain from corporal punishments through the last five years. In many individuals such a degree of violence over such a time span could in itself cause break downs.

'It was not just pain, that caused this anxiety however,' Baglian realized as he analyzed the pattern of her general anxiety.

Student Majgen's mind had interpreted the pain as punishment. Not as mere violence. She had actively done everything in her power, to adapt to the Mentariata rulesets. The continued punishments were not just painful, they were constant reminders of her failure to adapt.

In a primitive level of her mind the continued harassments had caused feelings of inability to conform to the rules of her surroundings. This again had caused a primal insecurity in the young teenager she had been. Since the situation had persisted over five years, so had the insecurity had been enforced rather than outgrown.

'If she had actually been rebellious, and had received a similar or amount of corporal punishment in response to a true disobedience. She would not have been this anxious.' Baglian's conclusion rose from his theoretic and practical understandings of the primitive mind.

Baglian believed that the primitive mind could tolerate and accept large amounts of punishment from the 'pack' in response to rebellion. Since the primitive mind mostly interpreted rebellion and disobedience as a struggle for higher status within a pack. By the same logic, punishment following obedient sub-servitude was interpreted by the primitive mind as a failure to conform to nature, and was hence intolerable on a primitive subconscious level.

Femaron Baglian expected Majgen's anxiety would dissipate quickly if the threat of corporal punishment was removed from her every day life. At this time however, her only motivation for learning mentarion skills time was fear of the corporal punishment; that could follow if she should fail to comply with orders to learn.

Baglian decided to stick to his standard use of corporal punishment. When studying with him, Majgen would eventually be able to avoid corporal punishment by being truly obedient. In that respect her life with him, would differ from what her life in the Mentariata had been like.

He felt confident that once she began to notice that particular change in her life: Then her strong anxiety would swiftly diminish. He knew that Majgen was a perceptive girl, so he had good reasons to hope these effects would take their course within an acceptable time frame.

----=(Thinking of Trivia)=----

Majgen's tendency to fill her conscious mind with trivia, was a direct obstacle to swift training.

Baglian understood exactly why she had taught herself to think of trivia, whenever she was with mentarions. However, during the five years Majgen had lived in the Mentariata, she had been with mentarions whenever she was not alone. So in effect she had intentionally spent most of her waking hours thinking about trivia for several years.

Majgen had not realized it, but the habit had gotten out of control. She was not aware, how often she recited trivial data to herself even while safely alone. When her progress in non-mentarion scholarly education had started slowing, she had assumed she simply wasn't sufficiently intelligent. She had not understood that her inability to comprehend new material was a direct effect of remembered trivial data coming to her conscious mind, while she was trying to read up on things new to her.

The detrimental effects of trivial data reciting on her homework performances, had not been the only obstacle the habit had placed to slow her learning. The conscious choice of thinking of trivia while amongst mentarions had an extremely inhibiting effect on what benefit she got from the classes she attended.

'Right now, the best course of action will be to brutally terminate her habit of reciting trivia to herself,' Baglian decided, 'Her ability to perform this thought-technique might very well come in handy in the future though.' Femaron Baglian understood that Majgen would on many occasions in the future need to use thought-techniques when around other mentarions.

'Even though her subconscious emanations are under control at this time, she seems to have an ability to aggravate mentarions.' Baglian had already seen several examples of that in her memories. Furthermore he had witnessed yet another example of it himself at the meeting where he had first seen her in person.

'If she had not been transferred to my custody at that moment, she would have been submitted to a wrongful whipping by the hands of one of the other Femarons present.'

Baglian could protect his personal student from mentarions of same rank as himself and lower, but if she should accidentally infuriate a higher ranking mentarion then he would not be able to protect her.

He had been directly instructed not to teach her techniques for thought concealment, so the only thought-techniques available for her to use, were the ones she already knew and used. The most efficient of those, and also the one she had most experience with, was the trivia reciting.

He needed Majgen to break the habit of trivia reciting, but he also needed her to use trivia reciting whenever they should meet other mentarions.

'I need to figure out how to make her realize that she is not allowed to recite trivia to herself when I am the only other mentarion within sensing range of her, while making sure she understands she is still allowed to do it amongst other mentarions,' Baglian thought to himself.

----=(Baglian's Privacy)=----

Baglian started thinking up a plan for how to make his new student continue to use, but no longer abuse: trivia reciting. In particular he wanted to find a way to communicate it to her. One that didn't involve truly letting her know; that he would tolerate her attempts to hide thoughts from other mentarions. Especially higher ranking ones. He looked in her mind as well as his own, to get good ideas on this. Ways that would not make her realize his motivations.




Majgen Ch. 003



He had successfully manipulated students to do what he wanted, without being direct, on several occasions in the past. In manners that would keep the student in the dark regarding his motives. Often so much so, that they did not realize they had been manipulated in the proper direction at all.

Baglian spent a few minutes planning like this before he realized that; Majgen was not a normal mentarion.

'I can't use subtle manipulation on her. It will be impossible to keep her in the dark,' Baglian realized, he frowned for a moment; 'Training Student Majgen will be indeed be unique.' Like all teaching mentarions Femaron Baglian was used to keeping his mind shielded from his students, and to not allowing them to shield their minds from him.

However, Majgen was not a normal student, as long as she was with him she would have quite a bit of access to his mind, whether either of them wanted it or not.

'There can be no subtle manipulation from my part, I won't be able to hide my motives from her.' Baglian's mind joggled with the unfamiliar concept. 'In the long run, I wont be able to hide any parts of my private mind from her.'

The concept of loss of privacy was not really disconcerting to Baglian. Unlike most higher ranking mentarions he wasn't worried about someone of lower rank knowing what he was thinking.

Baglian's extreme arrogance also made him extremely self asserted. If somebody saw something they disapproved of in his mind, and thought lesser of him for it. Baglian simply didn't care. He knew himself, he liked what he was, who he was. If somebody had a different opinion, Baglian would consider it their problem, not his.

To him the only problems with loss of privacy of mind, while together with Majgen, were practical ones. 

Majgen was getting used to the image of colour blue he was transmitting to her. She was slowly starting to pay attention to him again. Baglian wanted privacy of mind a little longer though, especially while contemplating the possible problems of, and solutions, to a student/mentor-relationship with no privacy for the mentor. To buy more time he transmitted a new image to Majgen to replace the blue.

This time he used a memory of sparkling bright purple. He could have sedated her completely, but he wanted her to be clearheaded after his scan.

Baglian had good experiences with using the first several hours of a new student/mentor-relationship; to clarify to the student what conduct of behaviour he expected of that student. He normally used both words and actions, to accomplish this. However, if his student was partially dazed and disoriented after a longer mind sedation, it would be very hard to obtain a similar effect.

Majgen reveled deeply in the colour purple; she closed her eyes and even smiled broadly.

'She hasn't smiled in a long time,' Baglian thought. He could sense how unaccustomed her face was to the amiable expression.

With Majgen focusing on purple, he had sufficient privacy to contemplate the aspect of lack of privacy. Weissme had briefly mentioned the privacy issue to him, but until now, he had not given much thought to the subject.

The last couple of years Femaron Baglian had been working his way towards a career that would give him access to confidential governmental information. However, he had not been given security clearance for any level of governmental confidentiality yet.

Since he wasn't bothered by whatever personal information Majgen might obtain from him, that was not an issue either.

'The only secrets I carry are those related to patient confidentiality. Any mentarion is covered by the same laws of patient confidentiality, so in spite of the fact that she has not yet graduated I do not need to keep such information from her.

'None of the information in my mind is of a type, which it will be imperative for the girl not to know,' Baglian concluded.

'It seems the only direct problem with loss of privacy is that I will not be able to use subtle manipulation as a tool for training her.' Baglian frowned again, he would need to extensively rewrite his usual student training procedures. He didn't wish to stay in taxi gate 7 long enough to do that immediately though.

He returned to the issue of Majgen's abuse of trivial thoughts. He would have to be direct, some in words and actions, the rest she should be able to sense from him herself.

He felt a need to make a decision on one more area, before leaving the hallway. When alone Majgen often resorted to a particular daydream. One directly related to her atypical view on the subject of being discarded as a mentarion. He did not approve of that daydream, nor of her atypical view on failing as a mentarion. However, now that he knew more of her situation he no longer despised her for it.

----=(Majgen's Secret Daydream)=----

After losing her graduation-daydream, at the eve of her seventeenth birthday, Majgen had been unable to sleep well for several days. For years that daydream had been like a sleep inducing drug to her.

A warm thought to make despair and fear give her a moments rest.

Without that, it had become impossible for her to put her worries aside long enough to fall asleep. Majgen had suffered from the loss of her fantasy, slowly sinking into a more constant depressed state. This unhealthy development had continued a few weeks until one evening a new fantasy came to her. A forbidden thought: The thought of what would happen if she was discarded by the Mentariata.

Student Majgen would be expelled from the Mentariata if it was once and for all officially decided and declared: That she was unworthy of a mentarion's life.

If that happened she would be transferred to the Empaticon, the ruling part of the sub-society for weaker empaths. Under that rule Majgen could expect a life with relatively more freedom. A life where she might spend a lot of her time medically deprived of empathic abilities. Maybe only being allowed her empathic abilities when performing simple empathic duties. Duties usually performed by weak empaths, such as searching normal schools for empathic children.

Sometimes Majgen would fantasize that even the Empaticon would rule her completely useless and turn her over to a lifetime without empathic abilities. In such a life her only true lack of freedom would be to have to report to a physician to receive anti-empathic medication on a regular basis. In these most secret moment Majgen would imagine a life where she could get a low waged uneducated job. Maybe serving food in a low quality restaurant on a mining habitat. A life in the shame of failing as an empath, but a life of freedom.

----=(The Conflicts of a Daydream)=----

Baglian understood why she had needed the daydream while living in the Mentariata. He now knew the daydream was not as irresponsibly selfish, as it would appear to a mentarion at first glance.

When Majgen had been deprived of hope of graduating she had of course also lost sight of being able to contribute to society, to fulfill a mentarions duties. So her daydream was solely aimed at escaping the hardships of her current life, not at avoiding duty. Knowing the mechanics behind her daydream, was what made him able to not despise her for it. 

Since he no longer despised for her it; he was sure his quality of life would not be affected if he allowed her to keep the daydream. It wouldn't bother him to sense that daydream in her.

'At least not while she is still erroneously convinced that she can do no good as a mentarion,' Baglian concluded. 'I wonder how long she will consider herself useless.'

Apart from his own well-being, there were other factors for Baglian to consider regarding Majgen's rejection fantasy.

'Practically any mentarion who might learn of the fantasy will desire to beat it out of her,' Baglian thought. He had no interest in wasting time dealing with conflicts with other mentarions.

'Such conflicts can of course easily be solved by letting them do it.' However it would be very unlike Femaron Baglian to let another mentarion beat a student of his, for something he had decided not to punish. Unless he was outranked and hence deprived of choice.

'Student Majgen is my personal student, if she is entitled to beatings I will administer them myself.'

He was living and working in Drom though, face to face contact with other mentarions was rare there. 

To Baglian a good reason in to force Student Majgen to give up the fantasy was:

'This particular fantasy is a direct anti-motivator to her mentarion training. So far she has not consciously neglected her studies, nor obstructed her training, in order to make the fantasy more likely to come true. However, an anti-motivator like this is very likely to eventually result in subconscious obstruction of further training. Not only that, this fantasy will make it harder for new motives in favor of training to surface.'

There were also good reasons for him to allow her to keep the daydream. One aspect, Baglian considered, was that this daydream had helped her remain mentally healthy while living in the Mentariata.

'The hope of a better life, which the fantasy instills in her; might be needed to keep her stable a while longer,' Baglian thought, 'At least until she realizes that her life with me will be a lot less painful than her life at the Mentariata has been. Provided she is still intent on pursuing an obedient path of course.'

Majgen had retained the fantasy after several beatings relating to it. That fact alone was a strong indicator of how much the daydream meant to her mental stability. Femaron Baglian analyzed those of her subconscious emotional patterns relating to the fantasy. He wanted to find out exactly how important the daydream was to her mind.

He found that if she was forced to give up the daydream immediately, it would most likely be replaced by daydreams of death. Baglian had much experience in areas of mental illness, he knew the possible long term effects of conscious daydreaming of dying.

'Since she is so mentally sound, there should be ample warning signs to warn me in advance before she develops true suicidal tendencies. So daydreams of death will not directly endanger her life in near future,' Baglian thought.

'In reality daydreams of dying will be more constructive for her training than daydreams of being discarded. Especially since early stages of death fantasies will force her subconscious mind to find and deliver other sources of hope to her conscious mind.'

Baglian was not bothered by moral inhibitions regarding the concept of temporarily forcing the young woman to daydream of dying. On a longer term he was sure that swift progress in her training would be good; both for her and for society.

There were aspects concerning the matter of Majgen's secret daydream, which Baglian had not considered. Majgen's subconscious mind had slowly but surely taught itself that self-destructive tendencies in Majgen had a direct effect on her surroundings.

A self-endangering effect.

Every higher ranked mentarion, spending time around Majgen, had been made acutely aware of the unique strength and rapid effects of Student Majgen Rahan's emanations. Many teachers at the Mentariata had personally witnessed incidents of mentarions run amuck because of Majgen's emanations themselves. The rest had been either verbally informed, like Baglian was before he came to the Mentariata. Or had been shown memories of such events.

The high ranking mentarions knew that it was possible for graduated mentarions to resist the effects of her emanations, as long as they remained aware of the danger.

Majgen's subconscious, however, was not blessed with understanding such distinctions. Her subconscious did not understand how self-destructive feelings in Majgen lead to real physical danger, and it also did not understand how that danger could be avoided in spite of self-destructive feelings. The scientific causality was too unemotional to be comprehended by subconscious pseudo-logic.

During her years in the Mentariata Majgen had on a few occasions been in mortal danger, caused by her own subconscious emission of self-destructive emanations. Her life had not been in danger every time her emanations had caused her unpleasantries, but threats to her life had occurred on enough occasions to make her subconscious aware of the danger.

Majgen's subconscious was, like Baglian, convinced that if she gave up her year old daydream of rejection, she would resort to daydreams of death.

Majgen's subconscious was convinced that daydreams of death would cause rise of self-destructive feelings in her.

Majgen's subconscious was convinced that self-destructive feelings in her would put her in mortal danger.

The prime directive of Majgen's subconscious was to keep Majgen alive.

The first time a teacher had discovered; Majgen actually desired expulsion, she had been beaten severely. Even before the third lash had struck her Majgen's subconscious had understood that if Majgen didn't consciously daydream about expulsion regularly; she would be less likely to be punished for it again.

However, her subconscious had long ago learned the difference between pain from corporal punishment and mortal danger. The desire to keep Majgen out of mortal danger, had much higher priority than the desire to avoid pain.

After this first beating, Majgen's subconscious mind neglected to send it's conclusion on to her semi-conscious mind. It even began an active effort to convince Majgen's conscious mind that; it would be impossible for her to put all thoughts of expulsion out of her mind. The purpose of this had been to make her conscious mind less likely to draw any conclusions that could endanger the forbidden daydream.

The conscious parts of Majgen's mind were still fully occupied with contemplating and enjoying the colour purple, which Baglian continuously transmitted to her.

Her subconscious parts were not.

Majgen's subconscious mind was actively processing the input Majgen gained from her senses. Especially Baglian's emotional emanations as received by her empathic senses. When Baglian had started to contemplate whether or not to deprive Majgen of her old daydream, Majgen's subconscious had received information of his contemplations, and had instantly started processes to plan how to defend the daydream.

Active subconscious processes were too swift for simultaneous conscious analysis.

Sooner than Femaron Baglian was done contemplating even one aspect in favor of forcing Majgen to cease the old daydream: Majgen's subconscious was already done planning several courses of action. One for each likely method of force, which it had perceived from in Baglian's mind.

Consciously Baglian had no concept of how severely Majgen's subconscious was willing to fight for the daydream. His conscious contemplations on the matter of her daydream, were pointing him towards directly ordering her to cease conscious daydreaming.

However, while Baglian had been contemplating he had still been scanning Majgen's mind. His subconscious had noticed her subconscious processing his contemplations. 

Baglian's subconscious could clearly see a discrepancy, between the plan in Majgen's subconscious and the plan in Baglian's conscious mind.

Baglian expected that if he gave the order, Majgen would respond with honest attempts to cease daydreaming. He also expected that he might have to reinforce the order with smaller physical reprimands a few times. 

Majgen's subconscious expected that if Baglian gave the order, then Majgen would react with pure disobedience. After strong prompting from her own subconscious mind.

Even with the emotionally based pseudo-logic of a subconscious mind, the inconsistency was evident.

Baglian's subconscious informed his semiconscious mind of the discrepancy. This again caused Baglian to gain a conscious instinctive feeling that he ought to do a precognitive analysis regarding the order, prior to voicing it.

Femaron Baglian initiated an analysis how Majgen would most likely react to his order. The result surprised him.

'Direct disobedience as the most likely reaction?' Baglian was baffled, 'Nothing I have seen in her until now has indicated she is close to rebellion.' The Femaron continued his scan, it took him a bit more than fifteen minutes to trace the causality back to her subconscious fear of self-destructive thoughts.

'One day I will most likely need to work on that phobia,' Baglian thought. 'but not too soon. On short term it will do more good than harm.'

Baglian decided to let her keep the daydream after all. In his latest estimate making her give it up immediately, by ordering her to, would require an extreme amount of punishment. Such severe beatings administered by him, would in his opinion not only set their student/mentor-relationship of to a bad start. It would also ruin his plans of letting Majgen's anxiety dissipate.

'It would also be mentally unhealthy for her. When needed a student's will should always be bent, not broken.'

----=(Taxi Gate 7, Part 4)=----

After deciding to let Majgen keep her daydream, Baglian could clearly sense how plans of rebellious acts dissipated from her subconscious.

'Well this is a unique experience,' Baglian thought, 'to see a sedated person react to my thoughts while I am still scanning.' Like most experienced mentarions Femaron Baglian was used to the mirror effects of active mind sharing. However, watching a subjects subconscious mind sense and react to his thoughts, while her conscious thoughts were occupied elsewhere; was quite different.

'Training Majgen will indeed be interesting,' he mused.

Baglian was tempted to stay in the hallway a while longer, to take more time to observe more mirror effects. The scientific potentials of gaining further information of subconscious mechanics this way, were fascinating to him.

He took a moment to slightly stretch his neck muscles, by moving his head. This also made him able to inconspicuously glance at one of the clocks build into the wall ornaments. Nearly two hours had passed since he first began scanning Majgen.

The high cost of the first class cab waiting outside didn't bother Baglian, he was a wealthy man. Same as any other skilled Femaron who could be bothered to earn cash. If the expense had been a nuisance to him, he could also have asked the Mentariata to cover it.

The temptation to stay longer was not hard for Baglian to resist though. In his opinion his student had spent too much time at the Mentariata already.

Most mentarions spent ten to fifteen years as students at a mentarion school. It was the general opinion amongst mentarions, that this time was productive for the majority of students. Baglian agreed with this opinion. However, he felt Majgen should have been pulled out of the Mentariata long ago.

Baglian considered Majgen's abilities to be too unique to squander her time. In his opinion it had been a waste to keep her in an education system, which she obviously didn't fit into, for as long as five years.

He slowly faded the intensity of the image of colour purple, which he had been feeding to Majgen's mind. That way she slowly lost interest in it, when the image no longer occupied her he ceased transmission entirely.

Majgen's anxiety returned gradually, in tune with the disappearance of fascination with purple. She felt inclined to think of trivia even sooner than Baglian took his palms of her ears, but she decided to resist the urge a while.

She could sense level emotions of intrigued fascination in Femaron Baglian, she sensed no signs of anger yet. Her conscious use of trivial thinking was mostly a preventive means of protection, so she did not usually wait until signs appeared before resorting to it.

However, Majgen would not allow herself to think of trivia until knowing if he wanted her attention, it would be directly disrespectful under these circumstances. She also wanted to apologize as soon as possible, for not having brought a full set of uniforms as ordered, and she could not phrase an apology while burying her thoughts in trivia.




Majgen Ch. 003



Femaron Baglian turned his back to Majgen and moved the short distance to the see-through exit gate. There he activated one of the 'touch to open'-signs. Majgen spoke when the doors slid to the sides.

"I was not able to fully comply with your instructions Femaron Baglian."

Baglian turned slowly to face in the direction of his student, he did not speak until he facing her again.

"I know," Femaron Baglian stated dispassionately, then he waited a while, making no movement to speak further. He wanted to see if Student Majgen would begin apologizing on her own accord.

He reached out with his empathic senses, to certify if she yearned to apologize, and also to see if she realized he was testing her. He clearly sensed that she did yearn to apologize, and also that she was too distracted, by her anxious focus on looking for possible angry emotions in his emanations, to realize she was being tested. 

Majgen wisely controlled her desire to apologize her failure, and did not speak further unprompted. She did however work on phrasing apologies in her mind. Mostly regarding her failure to report the impossibility of complying; back when the order had been given. Her thoughts also spread to possible ways of excusing why she did not own pompous ceremonial wear.

The chauffeur of the first class cab, had stepped out of the cab when Baglian opened the gate to hallway. When Baglian had stopped and turned back to the student, the Chauffeur had moved to stand at the cab's passenger doors, the ones facing the gate.

There he waited to see if the Femaron would eventually offer instructions. When the Chauffeur had first seen the Femaron arriving in the hallway, nearly two hours ago. He had assumed this was the Femaron who had ordered the ride. However, after having spent so much time waiting for his passengers to exit the gate, he had begun to doubt.

Femaron Baglian did not move nor speak for three quarters of a minute, to see if Majgen would restrain herself from making apologies, without being prompted. As etiquette required. Majgen neither moved nor spoke in that time.

Finally Baglian turned again, to face the cab.

"Follow me, Student Majgen," he said and walked towards the cab. Majgen moved after him. Baglian stopped two paces from the chauffeur and fixed an unspecified glare on the man. 

The Chauffeur's profession was to drive a first class cab. Most of his fares started in the region of the supercity where the Mentariata was placed. So the non-empathic man was not unfamiliar with meeting mentarions in his line of work. However, even after a few years as a first class driver, the mentarion peculiarities were still unsettling to him.

The first class cab driver stood still a while longer, he was hoping the Femaron would offer instructions, but both mentarions remained completely still. The driver could feel sweat begin to break out at different places of his body.

'Have I done something wrong lately. What do they see in my mind?' he was thinking. In reality neither Femaron Baglian, nor Student Majgen were looking into his mind. Non-empaths could not sense whether an empath was in their mind or not, unless the empath directly and purposefully transmitted information to them. To break the uncomfortable silence the chauffeur decided to talk.

"Have you ordered a cab, Femaron?"

"Yes," Baglian replied in a neutral tone while sustaining a neutral glare aimed at the Chauffeur.

"Are you Femaron Baglian?"

"Yes." The reply was again delivered in a dry neutral tone. The driver appeared perplexed a yet another moment, then he moved aside, and opened the passenger doors of the cab. Hence indirectly offering the mentarions an option to enter the vehicle. The non-empathic man was further disconcerted when Baglian kept glaring at him without moving, for two long seconds.

"Our luggage is in the hallway." After this statement, Baglian took his eyes off flustered man and stepped into the cab, Majgen followed.

The driver fetched Majgen's bags and deposited them in the luggage compartment of his cab. Then he hurried to the driver door, entered the cab and swiftly seated himself. He was relieved to have the mentarions out of his sight.

He quickly regained his composure while waiting to receive instructions on where to drive through the intercom.

----=(In the Cab)=----

In the passenger section Majgen was sitting opposite to Baglian. She was thinking of trivia, she had started doing so right after Femaron Baglian had instructed her to follow him. Baglian activated the intercom.

"Tell me which finery tailor design facilities can be found near here chauffeur," Baglian ordered.

The chauffeur made sure to start his reply by listing several renowned high quality merchants to his passenger. Baglian interrupted the Chauffeur after the first few suggestions, he had heard enough to make a choice.

After telling the Chauffeur which destination he had chosen, Baglian shut the intercom off again and turned his attention to Majgen. He could sense she was intensely thinking of trivia.

"Student Majgen."

Her body gave no indication, of how startled she got by hearing her name. Majgen raised her head to look at him. She did this with an appropriately attentive speed, rather than with the instant jerk her anxiety would have made her do; if she had not been so practiced at adhering to mentarion protocol.

Majgen had been expecting the Femaron to address her eventually, but thinking of trivia had, as usual, made her emotionally out of tune with her surroundings. 

When Femaron Baglian had refrained from speaking for this long, on the matter of the missing uniforms, it had been a test of his new student's ability to follow proper etiquette. 

Since Student Majgen had failed to comply fully with his instructions, this had been a good situation to test. The natural inclination of one in her current situation, would be to try to bend the proper etiquette. It was always easier to follow the strict etiquette of the mentarion ways when there was no emotional stress pushing in a different direction.

At this point, Baglian had obtained some understanding of her perceptive abilities as an empath, especially from her own memories.

"She should have been able to realize, several times over at this point, that I am testing her," Baglian thought to himself. It was evident to him that she still had not realized it. "Her slow perception right now, might be caused by the trivial date she is spinning through her head right now. To her gaining less information about her surroundings is not just a side effect; it is a desired effect."

Femaron Baglian increased the strength of his mind shield, like he would do if preparing to interrogate a yijejo.

"How do I intend to punish you for your negligence, Student Majgen."

That was not the words Majgen had expected to hear.

"I don't know." Majgen made sure to reply fast, while the answer was still true.

"Can you find out?" Baglian asked.

"Maybe, Femaron Baglian, do you wish for me to try, Femaron?" A long time had passed, since Majgen had last actively tried to retrieve information from someone with a raised mind shield.

"Yes," Baglian stated, his tone was as dispassionate as ever. Baglian would have liked to monitor his student's mind during her attempts, but he expected mirror effects would occur if he did. So instead the Femaron leaned back in his seat, watching her with his eyes only.

"I think the matter of the missing uniforms is not very important to you, Femaron Baglian," Majgen said. She was scared to find out too much, scared he would be infuriated if she saw too much. Like so many others had been in the past.

"Something else regarding me is at the top of your mind." Majgen closed her eyes and frowned.

"I am doing something wrong. Something I don't know I do wrong... That is on top of your mind, I think." Majgen tried to focus to get the information he asked for instead.

'I have to hurry,' Majgen thought, 'if I take too long I might stumble across something displeasing to him.'

"Dont tell me everything you sense in words, Student Majgen. Wait till you can answer my question." Baglian said. Majgen looked at him, contemplating his order.

"I ask your permission to inform you of something, Femaron Baglian," Majgen said.

"Speak."

"I cannot control what I see. If I sense from you, I cannot respect your privacy." After Majgen had spoken these words Baglian opened his senses to her mind again. He sensed the fear of punishment in her.

'Her fear is too strong for this test of her abilities,' Baglian thought to himself. 'How can I circumvent her fear of sensing too much?' The Femaron contemplated the special situation and decided on a different course of action, one he had never taken with any of his previous students.

Femaron Baglian lowered his mind shield.

"Enter my mind," Baglian said. Majgen stared at him for a moment, she couldn't believe her ears. No graduated mentarion had ever given her that offer.

"I think I misunderstood your words, Femaron Baglian," she said.

"Enter my mind, Student Majgen, I want you to scan my mind."

Until Baglian no one had ever volunteered their mind to her.

Majgen had performed small mind scans a very few times on other students, upon being ordered to do so by teachers, as training exercises. Under similar circumstances she had also performed small scans on non-empaths, on even fewer occasions.

"What do you want me to look for, Femaron Baglian?" she asked.

"That is the first thing I want you to look for, Student Majgen."

"Now?"

"Now!"

Baglian knew Majgen was very inexperienced in the area of mind scanning. When Baglian could sense the student was composing herself for the procedure; he closed his eyes, and relaxed as much as possible. The Femaron mentally steadied himself to be prepared for a clumsy, and quite possibly painful, invasion. He also closed his outward empatic senses, to avoid mirror effects.

Majgen too closed her eyes.

She reached out with her mind and gently touched the surface of Baglian's mind.

'She has a soft touch,' Baglian thought, even with his empathic senses turned off, he could feel her probing at the top of his mind.

'May I?' Majgen wondered, still hesitant. She dared not ask for a new confirmation of his orders. She scanned the top of his mind.

'He is truly intent on letting me enter his mind,' Majgen realized, 'he is willing to let me do so even though he expects; it will to cause him direct discomfort.'

As Baglian had foreseen and planned: The fact that he was willing to let her scan his mind directly; made Majgen forget her fears of gaining too much information. His motive for ordering her to scan his mind; was to make her understand that she would not be punished for gaining personal information from him. 

Majgen was aware that a clumsy entry into another empath's mind, could be painful for that person. She did not want to cause Femaron Baglian pain. Student Majgen opened her empathic senses fully, she was hoping that she could enter gently if she watched her step.

For the first time since she had infuriated Femaron Braygen, four years earlier, Majgen let herself truly feel another empath. She forgot herself.

Majgen sensed.

She was a young boy, a rank 9 mentarion student: She/He was standing up to a much taller rank 7 student challenging the higher ranked student to a mind battle. She/he was deliberately insulting the larger youngster solely for the purpose of distracting her. At the same time, she/he was desperately transmitting emotions to another student, a rank 10 girl sitting on the floor with a bleeding nose, that she had to get up and run now.

She was a young man: She/he was kissing a woman while reading her mind to see her sexual desires, she/he wanted to fulfill those faster than they could arise. She/he was intent to be the best lover the woman had ever had, even though she would be the first woman for her/him to have.

She was the youngest man present at several 'ranked-it-up'-parties: She/he was laughing at the foolery and empathically sharing taste experiences with the other promoted students.

She was a freshly educated etaron: She/he was travelling alone to a privately owned primitive mining habitat, on her/his way to meet a disillusioned but genius Firearon face to face. She/he would beg the Firearon to take her/him as a personal student. The Firearon kept refusing, she/he kept begging. She/He could have gotten more prestigious studying spots easily, but she/he knew that only this Firearon had the skills she/he truly required.

She was a Femaron: She/He walked the streets of many places. Very often a personal student was following her/him. She/he never lived in the same area many years in a row, for she/he was always willing to move where duty called.

She was a very small boy: She/He was not yet able to understand speech or talk herself/himself, but she/he understood certain words. She/he was on the floor, colored toys were all around her/him.

Majgen let herself be moved from memory to memory. She had forgotten why she was there. She barely remembered who she was.

She was reliving another person's life, Baglian's life, one memory at a time.

Shortly after Majgen's initial gentle touch. Baglian could no longer feel, her touch. Even with his outward senses shut down, he would have been able to feel her presence if she was in his mind.

'She is probably still preparing to enter. After all she is a very inexperienced, not to forget nervous, student. I will give her some extra time to work past her anxiety.'

Six minutes later, Baglian still had not felt Majgen enter his mind. Instead his waiting was interrupted by the cab's intercom.

"We have arrived at your destination, Femaron Baglian." The chauffeur had regained his composure, now he even remembered how mentarions preferred to be addressed. The chauffeur stepped out of the cab, and positioned himself next to the passenger doors.

Upon hearing the intercom, Femaron Baglian opened his eyes and his empathic senses. 

He looked at Majgen. She was leaned back against the back of her seating. Her head turned a little to one side, resting on the back of her seat. She appeared to be napping. He sensed no fear in her, she appeared to be dreaming.

'Did she faint from fear earlier?' Baglian wondered, he had not seen any such tendencies in her, during his scan in taxi gate 7. However, precognitive analytical techniques were not exact.

"Student Majgen," Baglian said. Majgen's eyelids fluttered a bit but she didn't respond, a reaction very similar to that of a person sleeping heavily.

"Student Majgen," Baglian repeated with more volume. Majgen's eyes opened, she blinked a few times then she sat up straight.

"Femaron Baglian," she said while giving him a bow with her head only, as appropriate when sitting.

He sensed no fear in her.

"Please give me a moment, Femaron Baglian," she requested.

He did.

He reached out to feel the top of her mind however. He still found no sign of fear, not even anxiety. There were no signs of disobedience either.

'Why is she suddenly so calm,' Baglian wondered, 'I would have expected anxiety in her after falling asleep instead of obeying my order.'

"I was not sleeping, Femaron Baglian," Majgen said, "I was not disobeying either." She now sat in her humble pose, her head was bowed as usual. She was more comfortable this way, and now she knew, with certainty, Baglian would not mind her not looking at his face, while they talked.

Majgen continued; "I am not afraid, because I know you will not punish me for not performing a regular mind scan, Femaron Baglian."

"Really?" Baglian inquired.

"Yes. I know now that you will not punish me for it, because even though I did not comply with your exact words. I did my best to obey." Majgen took a short pause. She now knew Baglian better than she had ever known anyone else. She was still sensing him and gaining more information. All her inhibitions in those regards were gone, because she now knew; Femaron Baglian would not punish her for finding out too much.

'He wants to know how much I am able to learn about him, without entering his mind,' Majgen thought to herself and decided to attempt to satisfy his curiosity.

"You are not planning to punish me regarding the pompous uniform issue, Femaron. Instead you ordered the cab to take us to a tailor; to rectify the matter of the missing uniforms."

Majgen gained knowledge faster than she could speak, but she knew Baglian was not in a hurry. There were still many hours left before they needed to be at the space-port, to leave the planet. Femaron Baglian had not told her this, but she had picked it up in his emanations.

"You want me to stop abusing thought-techniques. I have understood from you, how obstructive they have been to me. How obstructive they will be." Majgen raised her head a moment to look straight at him.

'Although he wants me to understand at which times; he will allow me to use thought techniques, he does not want it mentioned in words.' Majgen took a moment to phrase her understanding in a manner which Baglian would consider appropriate.

"I also know from you; that these thought-techniques can still be useful under certain circumstances," she said. Baglian watched her in silence, he was fascinated by the change in her approach to him, but he was even more interested in the amount of insight she was revealing to him. He knew she had only spent a brief moment, in the top of his mind, that alone could not have supplied her with this amount of information.

He scanned the top of her mind, to gain a more full understanding of what she had meant to imply with her last few sentences.

'Amazing,' Baglian thought, 'she even perceived that she has my permission to use thought-techniques if we meet other empaths.'

"I know that; you plan to make my life more secure and less painful, as long as I do my best to accommodate to your training, Femaron Baglian." Majgen searched for more words, she was calm while doing it undisturbed by anxiety. She was not used to searching for words without a fidgeting fear growing inside her, she had not been this calm for years.

"I will do my best to accommodate to your training, Femaron Baglian," she paused a moment.

"I also know, that you will let me keep my secret daydream, Femaron. At least for now. I also know why... I thank you for that, Femaron Baglian." Majgen went quiet a moment while sensing and anticipating what Baglian would want to know next.

"I think, Femaron Baglian, that I can sense more than either of us anticipated. Would you care to look into my mind, Femaron? To fully see what I have seen since you lowered your mind shield?" Majgen followed Femaron Baglian's thoughts, while he contemplated her question, as easily as if they were her own.

"I can shut down my empathic senses, Femaron. That way you will not need to sedate me in order to avoid mirror effects, Femaron Baglian." Her ability to follow his thoughts intrigued Baglian. He had only just begun considering which type of mind sedation to use, when she gave him an alternative he liked more.

"Come closer then, Student Majgen," he ordered.

Majgen moved over and seated herself next to Baglian. She assumed a humble sitting pose, with her hands in her lap. Then she closed her empathic senses and eyes completely. 

Baglian entered her mind. He went through her recent memories, viewing from the moment he had asked her to scan his mind till their present.

'The things she has seen and understood from me,' Baglian's thoughts mused, 'it is considered impossible for a mentarion to gain this kind of information without actively entering the mind of the subject, and she didn't enter my mind at least not the way empaths normally do.





Majgen Ch. 003



'Whatever it is she does, however she senses what she senses; it is not merely a stronger version of what other mentarions do. It is something else. Something different.' Baglian was certain the girl had high empathic potential, but power alone could not explain her unusual perception.

Baglian considered himself to be wiser than most, but even he found it ludicrous; that apparently no one had noticed how extremely valuable her abilities were, sooner than he had.

'I am fully capable of taking proper care of this resource,' Baglian thought with confidence, 'but if anyone had realized exactly how unique she truly is; she would not have been turned over to a Femaron.'

Femaron Baglian spent the better part of ten minutes in her mind. He would have preferred to spend much more time analyzing and contemplating, but he could feel his mental stamina beginning to drain.

'There will be plenty time to investigate further later,' he thought to himself as he withdrew from her mind. The student/mentor contract, which the Mentariata had signed on her behalf, was for a three year period.

To strain empathic abilities beyond warning signs of empathic fatigue, very often lead to a temporary shut down of such senses. Baglian had no desire to temporarily loose his empathic abilities, especially not in the beginning of a new student/mentor-relationship.

"Let yourself sense again now," Baglian ordered.

Majgen did as instructed, but remained still. Baglian performed a few muscle-loosening and stretching exercises, in his seat.

Like most other mentarions Femaron Baglian kept his body entirely still, apart from breathing, while working using his empathic abilities intensely. He had spent nearly two hours in a standing scanning position, and had followed that tension strain by the inactivity of sitting still. Some of his muscles were getting sore.

Upholding an appearance of mentarion dignity in public was often straining on a mentarions muscles. Especially the components of proper mentarion public behaviour that required a mentarion to never appear restless, tired, bored, exuberant or depressed. 

Baglian took a look at Majgen, when looking at her from the side it was evident that she bowed her head too low. It did not bother Femaron Baglian, that his new student preferred humble poses. However, the angle she held her neck at now was too much of a strain on her muscles.

'After some more years of using that stance, she will most develop cartilage damage,' Femaron Baglian thought, 'Maybe even to such an extent that she will need medical aid to be able to hold a pose proper for educated mentarions.'

He scrutinized her appearance again, attempting to see her as a non-mentarion would.

'Actually, her pose is too humble for walking amongst non-empaths. The unhealthy bend of her neck makes her appearance too humble; she does not retain an impression of mentarion dignity.' The moment Femaron Baglian decided to instruct his student of the problems with her pose; Majgen raised her head slightly.

'A student who can obey faster than I phrase an order?' Baglian marveled at her perceptivity again, he had raised his mind shield after withdrawing from her mind.

'She has not even reached actively to touch my mind, since the last scan.' Baglian smiled inwardly. 'This is certainly very different from what I expected when I received the first official letter from the Mentariata.' When the letter had mentioned an adult rank 10 student, Baglian had initially expected an intellectual retard; one with too strong empathic potential to let go to waste with the Empaticon.

Femaron Baglian scrutinized the new angle of his student's neck.

'It is better,' he thought, but in his opinion her head needed to be a little higher. Majgen raised her head a bit more.

"Yes, that will work," Baglian said and focused on his stretching exercises again. When he was done, he turned his head to look at Majgen again.

'Her eyes look half closed,' he noticed. Majgen had changed her gaze to the usual distance in front of her feet; which had previously given her eyes a suitable appearance. However, now that her head was less bowed she needed to adjust the angle.

Majgen used Baglian's visual as a mirror, and his opinion as a guide to proper appearance, while correcting the direction of her gaze.

Baglian nodded to himself when his student once again appeared appropriate.

"Now, Student Majgen, regarding your abuse of trivial thinking. As you said earlier, you know what I want you to do about that. Do you also know that I expect you might relapse into the habit often?"

"Yes, Femaron Baglian."

"Do you know what I will do, when you do that?"

"Yes, Femaron Baglian."

He still sensed no fear emanating from her, not even at the indirect mention of the prospect of corporal punishment; if she should lapse into inappropriate use of trivial thinking again. 

Baglian touched a door opener, thus causing the passenger doors to open. He exited the cab, without bothering to instruct Student Majgen to follow. He had decided to test how well she could obey his intentions without getting verbal instructions.

Majgen followed her personal mentor without a word from either of them.

*



Copyright of Nanna Marker, (lit ID ellynei)

Feedback is still desired, as is probably evident; I am rather new at this writing thing. Next chapter will submitted a week after this one, as usual.



Majgen Ch. 004



----=(First stop 1)=----

Their chauffeur had waited next to the passenger door for longer than he liked.

'Typical mentarion attitude; just leave the little guy hanging,' he thought, 'Why can't they just tell me what they want like regular people?'

He considered himself to be as intrigued by mentarion ways as the next guy, but being around them personally was disconcerting. He preferred watching mentarions at a distance, preferably half a planet away. It was fascinating to watch entertainment broadcasts based on stories about mentarions, whether bibliographical or fictional, or watching news involving mentarions. However, he did not enjoy being exposed to the mentarion ways himself, and he did not feel comfortable about being within a mentarion's sensing range.

The arrogant Femaron Baglian stepped out of the cab and said:

"Wait for us here."

Baglian did not bother to look at the chauffeur, even though it was him the instructions were aimed for.

"Certainly, Femaron Baglian," the Chauffeur replied. 

The Chauffeur watched Baglian and Majgen walk away, being addressed in such a discarded manner had wounded his pride.

'Having to eat shit like this is why my job gives me a six times higher wage than normal cab driving would,' he reminded himself, when the mentarions were almost out of sight. 

The tailor shop Baglian had chosen was part of a large merchant complex called; Zaxixi. The Zaxixi corporation had several 'Zaxixi' merchant complexes on each of the three human planets.

Baglian and Majgen had been transported as close to the tailor shop, as was possible by means of private vehicles. The cab had let them off in the one of the customer parking lots, in the Zaxixi merchant complex, which would give them the shortest possible trip on foot.

A graphical overlook of the merchant complex was placed next to the customer elevators, Baglian studied it a few moments to find and memorize the easiest path.

'We need to get three city floors up,' Baglian thought to himself. 'We should take the GHD elevators from here, instead of Zaxixi's own. The GHD ones stops at fewer floors, this one even stops in the mall, we are headed to.'

He used the graphical overlooks control panel to zoom in on the mall, where the tailor shop was located, and studied the possible routes within the mall itself.

'So we get off the GHD city-floor elevator here, that means we need to walk...' Baglian silently recited the route to himself with words; to memorize it more clearly. When entering the mall from the first elevator they would have an easy walk to an intra-building elevator. They would need to take that one six building floors up, after which they would need to walk again, to reach the tailor design merchant Baglian wanted.

From his mentarion education, Baglian knew why the merchant was placed so far from the parking lots. In spite of parking lots being the most likely means of arrival for its clientel. 

The standard mentarion education did not only focus on empathic abilities and techniques. Mentarions were also thoroughly educated in matters of politics, history, commerce and social structure of the human society.

Baglian knew that the Zaxixi corporation had most likely intentionally placed this particular store inconveniently for the store's costumers. The specific purpose of this would be; to have wealthy costumers walk through more average parts of their merchant complexes. 

The Zaxixi corporation did not expect such wealthy costumers to get tempted to do extra shopping in the average parts of the mall. Such extra shopping would be so unlikely to occur that it would not make up for the loss in profit, caused by some wealthy people choosing even more expensive finery tailors to get easier access.

The actual profit, which the Zaxixi wished to gain, from forcing wealthy costumers to have such a long travel by foot; was to be seen in the expected effect on their more average costumers. 

For the average costumer occasionally seeing far wealthier people minding their own shopping, mostly had the effect of making him more assured that the shopping area was up to his own standard. Even if he was primarily surrounded by costumers who could only afford the same price ranges as himself, or less. For this effect it did not matter much that the wealthy people were headed for other shops within the complex, intending to purchase items the average shopper could not afford.

By all who knew him, Baglian was considered an extremely arrogant man, but he was not a snob. He did not mind walking amongst people from different parts of society. To him, like to most other empaths, it seemed that the most distinct populace division was empath or non-empath, to most empaths other possible ways to classify humans as belonging to different groups in the population were unimportant.

The elevator Baglian wanted arrived shortly after he was done studying the overlook.

Majgen automatically began, to think of trivia when the elevator doors opened. She didn't even notice what she was doing, when she started reciting trivial data in her mind:

'The majority of humans are geographically spread out on three planets. A smaller but still significant percentage of the human population is spread out across human space in less dense clusters. Primarily in communities based on mining enterprises, energy-production enterprises and commerce. The current population consists of more than..'

Baglian noticed a subtle change in Majgen's basic emotional emanations, as they entered the elevator. He suspected she was thinking of trivia. Without actively entering her mind, Baglian focused on sensing her basic emotions from her emanations. He wanted to learn to recognize every sign of trivial thinking in her, so he would later be able to act on it without a need to certify.

When they left the elevator, and entered one of the Zaxixi market squares Baglian still observed Majgen closely with both mind and ears. She stayed a bit to the side and behind him, as appropriate for a very low ranking student following a teacher, so he couldn't observe her visually while walking.

The square, they entered, was circular. It was about one hundred meters in diameter. Streets lead from it in three different directions.

A playground for children filled most the center of the square, another little trick of commerce.

The playground was only accessible for costumers who had made a purchase in the Zaxixi-complex, within the last twenty-four hours, and, of course, the children of such costumers. The recreational area was covered by a see-through dome. The dome was decorated with creatures from fairy-tales, and popular broadcasts, which made the playground look even more appealing to youngsters.

However, the dome was not placed for it's attractive effect, the primary purpose of the dome was sound control. The dome performed calculated sound emission.

When the sound level inside the dome was at tolerable levels, which would still make it possible for costumers to have normal conversations in the vicinity of the playground then; the dome allowed all sound to pass through. If the activities inside the dome got very noisy, the dome would lower the general volume emitted.

The dome was also designed to dampen excited play screams. Making such sounds, both a bit less high pitched, and of lower volume, before letting it pass through to the square.

On the square itself the ceiling was a bit more than ten building floors above. The walls bordering the square were see-through all the way up. Making it possible for customers on the other floors to look down at the square.

The streets leading off the square had high space overhead too, but on these the ceiling was only two building floors above the shoppers. 

Baglian saw an add for a brand beverage preferred by children, and realized he was thirsty. He walked to the nearest vending machines to buy a soft drink, not the children's beverage on the add though. He paid with a credit chip invisibly implanted under the skin of his right palm.

"What are you thinking about," he said, as he withdrew the drink from the machine.

Majgen did not notice. She would have if she had not been deeply embedded in trivial thinking.

When his student didn't respond, Femaron Baglian was certain she had sunk into her habit. Baglian moved to the nearest available drink table, with Majgen on his tail. There he placed his drink on the table while turning inconspicuously to face his student.

Baglian bashed Student Majgen's right cheek with a strong fist blow.

Majgen was caught completely off guard, she staggered a step to her right. Her hip collided with a waste bin, and she fell to the floor.

She had been too surprised to even shriek.

The vendor-machine café area had been buzzing with conversation when Baglian and Majgen had arrived at the drink table.

This close to the Mentariata the appearance of mentarions, in itself, had not caused stunned silence. The Femaron's violent use of his fist, and Majgen's fall did however, have that effect.

Baglian lifted his drink and took another sip, while Majgen got back on her feet. He was looking into thin air, appearing to be more interested in his drink than in his student's struggle to refind her balance once she got up.

When Majgen felt sure footed, she made sure her uniform was not in disorder, before moving back to Baglian. She realized she had been thinking of trivia, a direct disobedience.

When Majgen stood in front of him again Baglian said:

"That was for not answering my question, Student Majgen."

From Femaron Baglian, Majgen perceived the memory of how he had asked her a question, while buying his drink, to test if she had fallen into trivial thinking. She noticed how he had deliberately chosen not to follow it with her title. She could sense that he knew; she was well trained in paying attention to the words 'Student Majgen'.

"My apologies for that, Femaron Baglian," Majgen said. 

"Your apology for that is accepted, Student Majgen."

"I have also been disobedient, Femaron Baglian. I apologize for that too."

"I suspected that much, Student Majgen," Baglian said, upon which he threw a second punch, also on her right cheek.

Majgen was prepared for it, and didn't fall. This punch landed almost exactly where the first had. The pain exploded in her cheekbone and started an instant severe headache.

She had held her breath when the blow came to avoid shrieking. She kept holding it through the first pain, while tears came to her eyes. Once the pain had stabilized she held her breath a little longer to try to avoid sobbing.

The silence at the open area vendor-machine café had spread beyond its boundaries as more shoppers noticed the silence from that area, or noticed other shoppers staring in that direction.

Majgen didn't manage to get her sobs under control, sooner than she had to breathe. Her gasps for breath, through sobs, was clearly audible in the silence. Baglian returned to his drink. Appearing to ignore both his student and the growing amount of onlookers. When Majgen had enough air to cease gasping, he spoke again:

"Do you need medical attention, Student?"

"No, Femaron Baglian," Majgen replied, she was still sobbing. 

"Then stop whining and go buy yourself something to drink. We won't stop for drinks until I get thirsty again." Baglian guessed that like most first time personal students, Majgen didn't know the finer details of a student/mentor lifestyle.

Majgen didn't move.

Baglian was puzzled at her inactivity, but still chose to appear as if he was ignoring her. Majgen took a few slow breaths to get her sobbing under control, before she spoke:

"Femaron Baglian."

"Yes," Baglian responded, but kept looking into thin air.

"I am not able to buy a soft drink, Femaron."

Baglian turned his gaze to his student. He had never encountered an adult mentarion student, who had managed to squander their student pay to such an extent, that they were unable to buy a drink from a vendor-machine.

"Why not, Student?"

"I do not have access to my funds, Femaron Baglian," she replied.

Baglian frowned.

'Has she forgotten to bring her wallet?' he wondered. Majgen could sense his contemplation, not in words but in meaning.

'The Mentariata has obviously forgotten to inform him on the topic of my cash,' Majgen thought.

"I have my wallet, Femaron Baglian. I just cannot use it for purchases, it has been blocked from my personal use."

'How did she manage to put herself in so deep debt, while studying, that her funds have been blocked?' Baglian thought to himself.

Majgen perceived this misinterpretation on his part too.

"Legally I am a minor, Femaron Baglian," she elaborated, "I have no debts. My legal guardian, the Mentariata, blocked my finances long ago. I can't spend money without a representative from the Mentariata next to me to acknowledge the purchase."

If Majgen had not still been in physical pain from Baglian's administerings, she would have blushed at having to refer to herself as a minor. Baglian felt no need to inquire on why her finances had been blocked in front of a large amount of non-empathic spectators, so he let the matter rest.

He moved back to the vendor machines to purchase a second drink, this one for Majgen. His student followed him, as etiquette required.

Baglian handed Majgen her drink, before moving back to the table again.

By the time they were back at the drink table, Majgen's senses had assured her that he had no intentions of beating her further. Not until such a time that she should commit a new offense.

After some sips of the her drink, Majgen managed to cease sobbing entirely.

'He was right, it is much easier for me to handle a beating; when I know that I could have avoided committing the offense,' Majgen thought.

She had perceived this opinion of his, back in the cab. At that time she had not understood the truth of it. Back then she had only been relieved to realize that he would only beat her for offenses which she would be able to avoid. She had expected her life would be a lot less painful that way.

Initially, after understanding when Baglian would and wouldn't beat her, Majgen had hoped to be able to avoid corporal punishment all together. Now she was beginning to realize; it would take time and a lot of effort on her part, to live up to the standards Baglian required.

Majgen began planning ways for her to learn; not to inadvertently fall into trivial thinking. With her recently gained knowledge of Baglian's opinions of her motives. She came to realize that she was beginning to be ashamed of the truth that; fear of corporal punishment was her only motivation to attempt to progress in her mentarion training.

'At least real hope to avoid corporal punishment is a stronger motivator; than a diffuse unfounded feeling that maybe I could decrease the amount of physical pain in my life, by trying harder,' Majgen thought, 'Femaron Baglian thinks I am very likely to develop less selfish motives to learn. I hope he is right. It will be easier to face the despise from other mentarions, if I do not consider myself despicable.'

Majgen paused that line of thought for a moment. She had not thought about her own personality for years. In her estimate not since before the incident leading to the discovery of her empathic abilities.

'So long ago,' Majgen thought, 'I had only been thirteen years old for a few weeks before that day. I was a mere child then. Now my body is adult, but what am I?'

Majgen looked at Baglian.

'Who am I Baglian?' she thought, 'Do you know?'

She did not expect an answer.

Words themselves did not transmit empathically, not even between yijejos. A mentarion like Baglian, would have been able to sense she desired something of him, if paying close attention to her basic emanations. However, in a case like this he would have been unable to specify what she wanted just from emanations.

Majgen focused harder on sensing Baglian. With a naivety more commonly found in non-empaths she was hoping to see who she was, from finding out what he considered her to be.

To most of the onlookers, the public display of violence aimed at the younger mentarion had been shocking.

For a moment at least.

The anti-climactic aftermath reminded most of the onlookers that corporal punishment was an integrated part of the mentarion ways.

----=(The mentarion minority)=----

Mentarions were a very small minority in the human population. The count of known mentarions in the Governmental Resource Division (GRD) files was at that time around 45 000.

Multiple plans to increase the percentage of empaths in the population had been secretly implemented on trial basis, before the biology behind empathic abilities in humans began to unveil. However, because of the only indirectly genetic basis of empathic abilities in the human population, all such early attempts had failed. 

Prior to the official discovery of empaths several human governments had for a long time been aware, that such a thing as human empaths existed. Historically the knowledge of empaths amongst humans had been hidden in top secret files of changing governments for thousands of years.

Also hidden in such files were case stories, older than the official discovery, of how single empaths had been discovered, recruited and used, for top secret matters of state. In most of those cases, however, the empath in question would have used words more similar to 'caught and abused'.

----=(First stop 2)=----

After Baglian and Majgen had returned to the drink table; the onlookers quickly lost interest in the no longer spectacular scene. Sooner than Baglian finished his drink, all spectators had resumed their own errands or conversations.

Although the witnesses to the punishment acted naturally now; many of them had - after seeing a Femaron ranked mentarion slap a student around - added plans to their errands. Within hours most of the on-lookers would contact family, friends, and mere acquaintances to tell what they had seen.

Even this close to the Mentariata gossip about mentarions was considered juicy by most. Mentarions were a very small minority of the population, but the majority of the population considered empaths in general to be very interesting, especially the stronger empaths; the mentarions.

Majgen made sure to only drink half of her drink.

While Baglian was drinking she had intercepted more of his memories. From both his own time as a personal student and also some from periods where he had had personal students of his own. She had realized from those that thirst was not the only physical need for which pauses would only be made if Femaron Baglian had an inclination for it.

When Baglian had finished his drink he left the café to follow his planned route to the tailor.

Majgen followed.

In the meantime, she was still trying to find out what kind of person Femaron Baglian considered her to be. She was dissatisfied. All she perceived, regarding his opinions of her, was what she had already caught in the cab. And that had only been contemplations about matters which he considered to have direct or indirect relation to how he wanted her training to progress.

She found no aid in those contemplations, toward finding out who she had become; as a person.

Majgen had not yet realized that; apart from the fact that he was pleased she had no traits which he found directly appalling, Baglian simply didn't care what her personality was, beyond the effect it would have on her training.

When they had walked a bit, Majgen temporarily gave up on finding clues to what kind of person she had become, but she kept listening to Baglian with all her senses.




Majgen Ch. 004



His memories in particular were fascinating to her, on many different levels. Through his memories she saw places, she had never seen herself. Tasted things she had never tasted.

From Baglian's memories she even learned what it felt like to urinate with a male organ.

Most of Femaron Baglian's past was filled with experiences which were new to Majgen, in one way or the other.

Majgen was less than half as old as Baglian's fifty-four years.

The marvel to Majgen, was not just to experience new things. Nor was it simply the sensation of experiencing through another person's senses, though that was quite an experience in itself, in particular Baglian's visual of colours differed significantly from her own.

The aspect that intrigued her most was to sense how he felt about what he experienced. When looking at the universe from Baglian's perspective, Majgen was baffled by how different, and yet the same it appeared. Nothing felt the exact same way to her, as it did to him. There was always at least a small difference. It was like it was another place, or time, or dimension.

'Does everyone walk around, in their own dimension?' Majgen thought, 'Are any of us together in the same universe? Or is it just me that is different? Is that the true reason mentarions don't like me? What am I?'

Baglian could sense that Majgen was thinking heavily, from the mixed nature of her emanations. But occasional stronger bursts of emotion in her emanations assured him that; she was not thinking of trivia.

There were no other costumers in the tailor design shop, when Baglian and Majgen arrived. Baglian went straight to the register, a shop assistant immediately approached to offer assistance. A young man who had a soothing dark-leaf-green hair, with black stripes. His eyes were a too light green to have been a birth colour.

"May I assist you, Femaron."

Most humans knew how to recognize mentarion ranks from uniforms, those who had never interacted with mentarions had gained the knowledge primarily from popular culture. But any shop assistant working in an expensive tailor design shop placed close to the Mentariata, was also trained in addressing mentarions properly.

"Yes. Get me a designer."

"The best of the designers present at the shop today is only three starred, Femaron. But I can arrange for a long distance link to a good five starred designer."

"My student needs a tenth ranked pompous uniform. Let us find out if your three starred designer has enough skill to accomplish that task." Baglian said.

It wasn't the price of a five starred designer, that bothered him. Even though he had expected Majgen to pay for her own uniforms, until she told him her finances was blocked. Baglian was sufficiently wealthy to not care about prices of the size this shop had.

The reason he chose the three-starred designer was that he preferred to be face to face with designers, so he could look into their minds while instructing them.

The shop assistant went through a door and came back a few moments later with a second shop assistant. This one a woman, looking to be in her thirties. Though with humans age was hard to tell by guess, it very much depended how many treatments they chose to use to look younger. Her hair was fairly long, with fist sized soft curls. It's main colour was snow-white, a couple of golden locks gave her a lively appearance. Somehow her hair made her look amiable, in spite of the coolness in her customer-minded smile. 

Baglian immediately found her attractive.

"Hello I'm Amy, your designer for today. How can i assist you, Femaron?" the female shop assistant/designer said.

Majgen blushed when she sensed how Baglian automatically scanned the woman's mind for sexual preference and availability. He would have tried to seduce the white-haired beauty, if their flight of planet had been scheduled to take of some hours later than it was.

"A pompous ceremonial tenth-ranked student uniform, for my student," Femaron Baglian said. While thinking how much he would like kissing Amy's neck; the way he had already learned from her mind, that she liked.

"Would this be the student in question, Femaron?" shop assistant Amy asked, while nodding towards Majgen. Whose cheeks were visibly red now. Apart from the fresh bruises on her right cheek.

"Yes," Baglian said in a more affirmative tone than usual. Even though he wouldn't have time to set a rendezvous with this woman, he had changed his manner to be more friendly towards the attractive woman, as he would if he was planning to seduce.

"Very well, if you will let me scan her in; we can get started. If you please, Femaron?"

"Certainly." Baglian even smiled to the shop assistant.

Majgen was really bothered by getting his mental images now, she felt she was invading both the shop assistant and Baglian's privacy at once. Even though it was only his emanations she sensed. Amy was not an empath, so Majgen did not sense anything from her passively, and she had no plans of entering Amy's mind to sense actively.

Majgen perceived that Baglian had no plans of involving her in the design of her future pompous ceremonial uniform. So after she was scanned Majgen moved out of their way. 

The scan had the purpose, of making the shop's computer able to show a visual of Majgen wearing pompous uniform suggestions to Femaron Baglian and Amy the three starred designer shop assistant. 

Majgen felt queasy. She continually gained information from Baglian's sex life now, she really did not want to know every trick Baglian had learned to use to seduce women. So far she considered his tricks dirty. They were so thoroughly calculated and rehearsed. From the way he changed his way of saying yes, to the way he would scan his prey to find out what they would really like to hear from him. And later; have him do to them.

When Majgen started getting memories from Baglian, which he in turn had scanned off Amy; of the sexual adventures in Amy's life, which she considered most exciting of all. Majgen drowned out the images, the same way she had drowned out unwanted perceptions the last few years.

'GRD, gives us food to eat, makes sure we got boots on our feet, keeps starvation of the street, and its working rather well.' This old kindergarten rhyme was one of the fastest ways to sink quickly into trivial thinking for Majgen. 

'GHD, adds a home to stay, so we got a place to be every day, a room for the park we pass on the way, and its working rather well.' Baglian's thoughts of how pleasant it could have been to, to get to know Amy for a full day, was drowned by the next verses. 

'GTD, makes all share, no matter if they run like a hare, everyone comes into the snare, and its working rather well. 

'GLD, laws for you and me, for every planet of the three, so we truly can be free, and its working rather well. 

'GED, robbers fear them all, without them criminals would have a ball...' Majgen repeated the verses in her mind several times over, while Amy made design suggestions to Baglian. 

Since the Femaron was so occupied with the amiable Amy he took a while to notice that Majgen's emanations were becoming suspiciously level. When he did he said.

"Excuse me a moment...Amy." He made a pause before her name, to indicate that he would have put a more personal description to her, if he was not bound by protocol. Then he went to Majgen.

"So soon, Student Majgen?" he inquired.

Majgen looked up at him, she had somehow managed not to consider that: Citing nursery rhymes to herself, was part of the same thought technique as normal trivial thinking was. And hence was not allowed for her.

"I.." Majgen was distraught by fear of how Baglian would react to the combination of her disobedience, and her disapproval of his seduction tricks. So distraught she almost broke etiquette, to try to explain herself. To maybe somehow lessen the blow. She caught herself just in time.

"I offer my apologies, Femaron Baglian," she said, her voice shook a little when she said his name.

This time he slapped her with the open palm of his left hand, rather than fisting his hand. He made sure to hit same area of her right cheek as last though, so the pain from the blow still spread all the way through her skull.

"Do you like to get beaten, Student Majgen?"

Baglian remembered a detail from his long distance talk with Ottearon Weissme and changed his mind on that verbal approach:

"No, don't answer that."

Majgen blushed again, she had caught the drift of his associations and the following change of words. She wished he hadn't, changed topic that way. She did not like getting beaten at all. That other thing, which she could sense Baglian had been informed of, was not about beatings. And she didn't like that other thing either.

'She is very scared right now.' Baglian thought. 'How did she fall back into the habit, this swiftly after a beating?' He decided to ask rather than search for the knowledge only in her mind.

"Why did you do it, Student?"

"I wished to give you some privacy Femaron Baglian," Majgen replied.

Baglian looked into the top of her mind, to analyze that answer.

"No. You wished to avoid sensing me. To spare your own hide from the anger you thought, your opinions would wake in me. And you wished to avoid perceiving certain images. There is a marked difference between your answer and the full truth. We will speak of that later. Until then I strongly recommend, you not to disobey me in any way."

Baglian went back to Amy, to get the finishing touches on the uniform design settled. When he was satisfied, he paid for two sets of the design and asked to have them sent to his address in Drom.

*

Copyright of Nanna Marker, (lit ID ellynei)

So far my plan of posting one chapter pr week is working out fine, I am still ahead of posted material by some 70 000 words (actually a lil more now), since the total writings on Majgen is now past 100 000 words.

Any kind of feedback would be wonderful. I am still a beginner, and feedback really helps me learn more.

By the way, thoughts will be presented in italics in ch. 001, 002 and 003 same as they were here in ch 004, in later edit's.

(date of afterword may 18th '08)



Majgen Ch. 005



For those who are fascinated by the world Majgen live in, I have submitted Majgen appendix 001 it contains some historical background and can be read on the side indepent of the storyline in the normal Majgen chapters. I hope it will be approved earlier than this chapter.

*

----=(The spaceport)=----

After they were done in the tailor design shop, Baglian and Majgen went back to the cab. 

"Take us to the nearest suitable spaceport," Baglian ordered over the intercom. 

He did not elaborate, he did not need to. The chauffeur knew which spaceports had the facilities, which users of first class cabs would consider appropriate.

The cab let them off at a taxi gate reserved for persons traveling on first class.

"We wont be needing you anymore," Baglian said while walking away from the cab. He had already left a tip for the chauffeur, using the payment system access in the passenger section of the cab.

Most people tipped in public, next to the cab, when they decided to tip a cab driver. Since Baglian didn't care much what others thought of him in general, he hardly ever bothered with the inefficiency of tipping outside a cab.

Majgen followed Baglian through the taxi gate and into the elevator at the end.

This elevator was not as large as the one at the Mentariata's taxi gate 7 had been, but it was still comfortable.

The elevator closed its doors behind its two passengers. With a pleasant recorded voice it requested instructions.

The spaceport taxi-gate elevators had no buttons, in these elevators passengers could not choose their own destination. Instead there was a touch screen, as well as voice activation options. With either of these two means passengers could inform spaceport computers of their travel plan, or state desires to meet a travel planner in person.

Normally, after receiving instructions from its passengers, spaceport taxi-gate elevators would relay the information to a central computer, which would then choose a destination for the elevator.

For security reasons passengers were also scanned for identity confirmation in those elevators, usually by comparing scan with data in their passport. People who travelled a lot usually had their passports implanted, like almost everybody had a credit card chip implanted.

Practically all mentarions had passport implants.

Majgen did not know it herself; but apart from her passport implant she had five other identification implants and nine tracing implants. Majgen also had five GED specific information implants, four Mentaricon specific information implants, and two Empaticon specific information implants.

She was more packed with security measures, than a convict on sick leave from imprisonment facilities.

Shortly before transferring Student Majgen to Femaron Baglian's custody, the Mentariata had rearranged her implants.

In that process a simple mistake had been made.

Ottearon Antwoine Weissme had ordered for all of Majgen's information implants to be replaced. He had personally written which information to place on each of the new chips to be implanted into her.

However, somewhere in the chain of command the word 'replace' was lost. The technician controlling the procedure chose to overwrite the information on her current implants, instead of replacing them with new ones.

The technician did not notice that five of Majgen's implants contained genuine GED information chips. He successfully replaced the information on the Mentaricon and Empaticon implants, but the GED specific implants were impervious to the Mentariata coding waves.

Mentariata had machinery that could write on empty GED chips, and have such information be tagged with Mentariata or Mentaricon signature. As had been done when Majgen first got her implants. But genuine GED chips could not be overwritten at all, once coded.

The only way to erase the old information from a genuine GED chip, was to destroy such a chip completely.

Hence when Majgen had left the school clinic, believing she had been through a regular physical check up; the old information, meant for GED readings, was still on her GED specific implants.

Units belonging to the Governmental law Enforcing Division, GED, were in charge of spaceport security on all public spaceports. The elevator Majgen and Baglian was in, scanned them for GED-specific implants, as well as passport information.

After reading the information on Majgen's GED specific implants, the elevator began moving to a secure area of the spaceport, and sent information to the spaceports security computer. Telling which one of it's security programs had been activated.

The security computer sent an alert on to GED personnel. To this alert, the computer attached a message which held instructions for security personnel. These were nearly five year old written instructions from Majgen's GED-implants; containing advice on how to proceed if an implant alert was triggered.

Part of the security-protocol the elevator was following; was to keep receiving instructions from its passengers as usual.

Majgen and Baglian could not feel the elevator moving. They both assumed it was standing still, while Baglian was tapping instructions on the touch screen.

With the bored speed of habit, Baglian finished informing the elevator of his travel and waiting plans.

"You will be transported to spaceport floor eight in blue section. Available leisure areas can be rented from control panels or personnel stationed there," the elevator's pleasant voice misinformed.

At that time the elevator had already arrived at a security room. Its doors remained closed while the elevator's computer awaited instructions from spaceport security.

Baglian and Majgen had no suspicion of anything unusual going on. Not even after spending minutes waiting for the elevator to let them off.

Baglian knew first class travelers rarely had to wait that long for elevators to arrive at the proper destination. However, he was not worried by the inconvenience, they were very early.

Both of them were facing the elevator door, waiting for the elevator to announce arrival. There was no way for them to know; the elevator had been standing still a while. First class elevators were designed to accelerate and decelerate unnoticeably.

Four minutes and forty-two seconds after the elevator doors had closed, GED spaceport security personnel was ready to receive them and the doors opened. Majgen's head was slightly bowed, she did not see the GED-team in their black spaceport uniforms herself. Baglian did.

'What?' he thought, completely unprepared for the view.

Reacting to Baglian's surprise, Majgen raised her head instantly. But all she saw was a flash of light from an electric pulse gun, as she was shot.

Baglian jumped back when his student slumped silently to the floor.

"Stillness!"

The word was spoken by a GED-officer, the only one of them who wasn't aiming a pulse gun into the elevator. 'Stillness' was a standard GED-phrase which meant; stand absolutely still.

Baglian froze in spot, he had no clue as to what was going on. However, very few were sufficiently stupid to disobey that command when looking into the firing end of multiple pulse guns.

The one who had spoken stood still a few seconds, observing the Femaron. When the officer felt confident; the Femaron was not about to do anything rash, he moved his eyes to his wrist watch.

"I am going to have to ask you to stay where you are for two full minutes, Femaron," the Officer said without taking his eyes of his watch.

"What is going on?" Femaron Baglian asked.

"Standard procedure," the Officer replied, "we will only need you to stay right there for one minute and forty-seven seconds longer."

"You just shot my student, how can that be standard procedure!?" Baglian sputtered. He could sense Majgen was still alive, although deeply unconscious.

"Majgen Rahan, is not allowed to leave the planet. By orders of her legal guardian, the Mentariata," the Officer replied. "Please remain calm, Sir, we will not keep you long."

"Are you saying the Mentariata told you to shoot my student?" Baglian asked, he was still absolutely baffled by the unexpected turn of events.

"Please remain still, Sir, we need you to trust us to do our job properly; for one minute and twenty-one seconds longer."

"What happens in one minute and twenty-one seconds?" Baglian asked.

"At that time we will feel assured that if you have been affected by her it will have worn off."

"I am a Femaron, you think I have been mind-controlled by a rank 10 student?"

"Please remain still, Sir, it wont take much longer."

"Why did you shoot my student?"

"Please remain still, Sir," the Officer repeated.

Baglian could not enter the minds of any of the GED-officers. They were wearing helmets which blocked empathic signals. He did not like to be treated like a criminal, but he did not speak again while waiting for the two minutes to pass.

"Are you feeling clearheaded, Femaron?" the Watch-Watching Officer said when his timer had counted down.

"Yes," Baglian replied.

"Are you feeling violent urges towards me or my colleagues?"

"None I can't control."

"All-right. At ease officers, he seems unaffected."

The GED-team relaxed, lowered their guns and deposited those in their holsters. 

"Come with me please, Femaron," the Officer requested, when all guns were holstered. 

"What about my student?" Baglian asked.

"Majgen Rahan will be sedated with kask. She will be kept fully unconscious till Mentariata security supplies us with further instructions," the Officer explained.

Baglian could tolerate that, for now. He wanted answers fast, and chose to go with the officer, rather than complain further.

----=(A conversation with Weissme)=----

Ottearon Weissme was furious that the nature of his orders had been disregarded by his own staff. However, he did not waste time showing his frustrations while working out the misunderstandings with the GED.

"Yes, the officers at the space station acted with accurate, precision and speed. I must say, their swift action upon reading the instruction on that chip was impressive," Weissme said, recycling the same sentence for the fifth time since he had been contacted by space port security.

Only practice and determination enabled his friendly appreciative smile from turning stiff on his face.

'They shot an unarmed eighteen year old. How hard can that be?' Weissme thought, but didn't let his thoughts affect his words.

"Yes, the procedure was performed with the precision of a military operation, very efficient."

Weissme was highly skilled in matters of sweet-talking. In less than an hour he talked GED officials into not making a big deal of the mistake. He talked spaceport medical personnel into removing Majgen's GED chips, on the behalf of the Mentariata. And he coerced spaceport GED security personnel into handing Student Majgen back to Femaron Baglian's custody prior to their planned flight.

Once finished with the GED part of the affair, Ottearon Weissme arranged for a private long distance audiovisual talk with Femaron Baglian, who was still at the spaceport.

'Now, on to make sure that the most arrogant Femaron in the universe will still feel privileged to train, Student Majgen Rahan,' Ottearon Weissme thought while waiting for the call to go through.

'First a good long tirade of concern for and interest in his well-being, to make sure he feels important.'

When Ottearon Antwoine Weissme talked with close high ranking friends, and mentioned opening conversations using such tricks; he referred to it as the oiling phase.

The call went through and Weissme, the leader of the Mentariata, started out with eloquently asking Femaron Baglian how he was doing.

"I have not been harmed, Ottearon Weissme," Baglian said, in response to Weissme's first expressions of concern.

'My phrasing offered nine options for whining complaints,' Weissme thought, 'I expected him to at least jump at three of them.'

"It is quite horrid to be exposed to such things, isn't it, Femaron Baglian?" Weissme said, giving the Femaron a new opportunity to air frustrations.

"I assure you, Ottearon, I am quite fine," Baglian said, brushing Weissme's words of concern aside politely and efficiently. "However, I would like to know how soon I can get my student back, Ottearon Weissme."

'He is more interested in getting Student Majgen back, than in being praised,' Weissme realized. This in itself removed all Ottearon Weissme's worries regarding a possible change of heart in the Femaron when it came to the task of training Majgen.

Ottearon Weissme had not needed to worry. Baglian would not express it neither directly, nor indirectly; but he would not let any inconvenience deter him from the unique opportunity of training Majgen.

Weissme allowed Femaron Baglian to guide the conversation away from oiling, and into sorting the details regarding the safe return of Majgen. A topic Baglian did not stray from, until it was fully settled.

Baglian's next topic of interest, however, was predictable.

"So now, please tell me Ottearon Weissme, why did the GED shoot my student?" Baglian asked as soon as the matter of him getting back Student Majgen was settled.

'Amazing that he withheld that question for this long,' Weissme thought. He did not know many who would have kept their priorities that straight so soon after facing armed pulse guns.

"Ah yes, Femaron Baglian, I'm terribly sorry for that. I had made the proper arrangements for that not to happen. However, I did not check if my orders were carried out as needed." 

Ottearon Weissme considered himself too old and dignified to push all blame from himself. Even when it was plausible to do so.

"You see," Weissme continued, "Student Majgen acted a bit rebellious, when she was first enrolled in the Mentariata. As you know she was discovered at a very late age."

When Ottearon Weissme said 'a bit rebellious', what he was thinking was:

'Scared senseless to such a degree that she could not even herself account for all her actions.' 

However, he saw no reasons to explain this to Femaron Baglian. If Baglian should feel a need to learn more of those days; he could find plenty information in Majgen's mind.

"She even tried to run away from the school a few times," Ottearon Weissme said.

Ottearon Weissme went silent a moment while considering how much he should elaborate on the security measures they had made after that incident.

Although running away from school was a normal occurrence in non-empathic boarding schools and the likes; it was practically unheard of in mentarion schools, like the Mentariata.

"Back then, we blocked her finances and implanted GED information chips on her," Weissme said, deciding to elaborate as little as possible.

"The instructions for the GED we planted on her back then, requested that they immediately sedate her, and return her to us. If she should attempt to enter a spaceport." 

Weissme did not list all the other places, where the chips would also have informed the GED to sedate Student Majgen and return her to the Mentariata. He also did not mention; he had convinced a number of different powerful officials, and GED-politicians to put their signature on the information. Weissme had done everything he could think of to ensure swift action and full cooperation from the local GED-departments if the chips were ever read.

Before he was asked to train Majgen, Baglian had actually been very close to attaining high security clearance within governmental offices. Far closer than Baglian himself was aware of. Ottearon Weissme, however, knew, hence he also knew he could share sensitive information with Baglian safely; except for one thing.

Everything Baglian knew, eventually Majgen could know. No matter how hard Baglian should try to keep it from her. 

Since the incident between Majgen and Femaron Braygen, about four years earlier. Ottearon Weissme had kept himself out of Majgen's sensing range.

He knew too many things, a student should never be allowed to learn of. In time he had even begun keeping at least two chain of command links between himself and her. Making sure never to talk face to face to any empath employed at the Mentariata about Majgen. Especially if that someone would enter Majgen's sensing range in near future.

It had been a sacrifice for him.

Weissme had wandered freely all, over his school, since he became its leader. But in order to avoid Majgen's sensing range, and in order to make sure everyone did not realize he was actively doing just that, he had been forced to stay out of the student hallways of his school.

The measures Weissme had taken to keep Majgen from gaining too much knowledge from other empaths, had been extensive too.

If Ottearon Weissme did not believe that Baglian could be trusted with all aspects of the Majgen-situation; Baglian would not have been chosen as a mentor for Majgen. However, if he did inform Baglian of all aspects, he would also indirectly inform Majgen.

'I do hope that one day Student Majgen will mature to a politically sophisticated woman, who can be trusted with the full knowledge of her own value. As well as the full knowledge of the danger she has posed to mentarion society,' Weissme thought to himself, 'but until that day she has to be kept in the dark.'

"She never did make it as far as a spaceport," Ottearon Weissme continued, "with her finances blocked she never managed to get further than she could walk. She hasn't tried to run away for years though. I hope you have found her to be suitable obedient now?"

"Yes," Femaron Baglian said, "a bit too anxious to think straight at times, but very intent on being obedient. I have good hopes that her anxiety will be under full control before I am done with her training."

Ottearon Weissme nodded consent. Not revealing that he understood the finer details of that matter.

After seeing memories from the mind of one of Baglian's former personal students, Weissme knew Femaron Baglian could be directly cruel to his students. Especially in the beginning of their studying time with him.

However, Weissme had also understood that living with Baglian would be less painful for Majgen, than living at the Mentariata.

"Regarding her finances, Ottearon," Baglian continued, "why are they still blocked, Ottearon Weissme?"

Weissme frowned.

"I'm sorry for that too, Femaron Baglian," Weissme said, "I forgot to consider the matter of Student Majgen's funds in connection with her transfer to private studying."

The Ottearon really had forgotten to think of that matter. Now that he was reminded of it; he immediately decided that he would not release Majgen's funds.

'She still fantasizes of freedom from a mentarion life,' Weissme thought to himself. 'Even though she has no plans of running at this time; such plans might appear if the opportunity becomes too temptingly available.'

Majgen's funds had barely been touched the last five years. It had grown to a size that could buy her a ticket just about anywhere, even though her only income was tenth ranked student allowance.

"Would you like to have access to her funds, to cover her private expenses, Femaron Baglian?"

"No," Femaron Baglian replied, "I don't mind having a student with no access to money. I can easily cover the expenses I consider reasonable. I was merely curious as to why they were still blocked."

When Baglian politely repeated his question this way, Ottearon Weissme realized he could not avoid the question inconspicuously. So he chose a direct lie.

"Majgen has been a rank 10 student a very long time. I was planning to give her back control of her funds when she would one day be promoted to rank 9. In reality there is not much difference between life as a rank 10 student, and life as a rank 9 student. If she got her money back along with the promotion, I think she would get a stronger feeling of achievement from the promotion."




Majgen Ch. 005



Ottearon Weissme spoke the lie as naturally as if it had been true. If Femaron Baglian had been in the same room as him, no mind shield would have been able to hide the lie. But through long range communication Baglian noticed no discrepancies.

"A wise decision, Ottearon Weissme."

*

Copyright of Nanna Marker

I am still desperately looking for feedback, especially constructive criticism.

I have completed first draft of part one of Majgen at this point, 109 000 words total, so still keeping well ahead of what has been submitted.



Majgen Ch. 006



----=(In the travelling suite, part 1)=----

Femaron Baglian was watching news broadcasts from the war-zone.

Majgen lay unconscious on a couch close to his comfortable chair. Flight personnel had placed her there by Baglian's instruction.

A GED-officer had injected her with kask-neutralizing reagents moments before turning her over to the flight personnel and her mentor. The kask had initially made her comatose, now that it was wearing of she was gradually moving through different stages of sleep. 

'The kask is nearly out of her system,' Baglian noticed. He was following the process by sensing her emanations.

It would have been possible to wake her now, by loud noises or shaking. However, Baglian intended to leave her be until she was completely unaffected by the kask. He would know that had happened when she entered a dreaming sleep.

Baglian rose and went to their passenger suite's drink cabinet. He looked through the selection and chose a non-alcoholic but very expensive bottled beverage. As he opened another cabinet to take a drinking glass, he could sense Majgen was beginning to dream.

'I will let her dream a few minutes,' Baglian decided, 'that way she will be less disoriented when waking up in a new place.'

He walked back towards his chair.

'Her dream is already becoming a nightmare,' he noticed. Fear was evident in his students sleep-patterned emanations.

He stopped by the table just in front of his chair, and looked at Majgen. He reached out with his empathic senses, intending to view her dream.

Majgen sat up with a scream. Only half awake and still filled with horror, grief and rage from her dream. She tried to orient herself and sensed the other mentarion, sensed him touching her mind. She turned her eyes to him, her eyes were not focusing properly yet.

'It is... He is... He is...' Majgen's thoughts were unclear, not yet out of the dream.

'He is Femaron B...' Her horror and rage surged higher.

"Femaron Braygen. No!" she yelled at Baglian.

'She is going to...' Baglian did not finish the thought before raising a mind shield as swiftly as he was able.

Less than a second after she had yelled 'no', Majgen attacked him with a mind shock. The attack was repelled by Baglian's mind shield. Student Majgen had more mental potential than him, but she was very untrained, she was not fully awake and she had never been educated in matters of focusing her mental energy into a shocking pulse.

Only using a fraction of his empathic strength, Baglian counter attacked. He had noticed Majgen had no mind shield up. Without that a full blown attack from his side would blast the young woman back into unconsciousness. Unhindered the strike of his shock caused an instant severe headache. Majgen recoiled from the pain, her hands rose to her hurting head, while her upper body fell backwards to the back-rest of the couch. The Femaron stood still, waiting for his student to gather her wits.

While recovering from the pain Majgen came to her senses. By the time her headache had dissipated she was fully awake and fairly calm.

If she had sensed vindictive emotions in Baglian, she would have sunk into new frights. However, her teacher was not angry. He had understood her attack had sprung from confusion and nightmares. Even though the attack had been aimed at him, it had not been meant for him.

Majgen lowered her hands and looked at Baglian.

"I am not Femaron Braygen, I am Femaron Baglian," Baglian stated dispassionately.

"I know, Femaron. My apologies, Femaron Baglian," Majgen said.

With a casual routine, which in no way displayed how unusual it was for a student to attack a Femaron, Baglian deposited his bottle and glass on the table.

"The toilet is that way," he said and pointed in a direction behind Majgen. He had not sensed the physical need from her yet, but he suspected she would have it by now. Several hours in kask-sedation, usually lead to a full bladder.

'I do need the toilet,' Majgen realized, and got to her feet.

When she came back Baglian was watching news again while sipping his drink. Majgen had been thirsty too, she had quenched her thirst by drinking from the tap water in the rest-room. The tap had been clearly tagged with a drinking quality sign.

She moved slowly, trying to perceive from Baglian what he would consider appropriate conduct of her. Although she had obtained many of Baglian's memories, she still felt insecure regarding the finer etiquette and procedures of a Student/Mentor relationship. Waking up from nightmares, on a couch which she could not remember having laid down on, in a place she had never seen before, had severely strengthened her insecurity.

'We are on a passenger cruiser now, travelling in space,' she realized, 'How did we get here?' 

She would have liked to ask, but she wanted to be sure it was appropriate of her to do so first. 

'Femaron Baglian won't mind if I seat myself,' she thought, only just gaining that understanding the moment she reached the couch.

For a few moments Majgen concentrated on figuring out how to assume a humble sitting pose on the low comfortable couch. Then she turned her empathic senses back to Baglian. She had questions, and he had answers. Including answers on how much he would tolerate her asking.

'He still wants me to find out as much as possible from him without asking. He wants to know how much i can find out without active invasion.' 

The missing time disconcerted her.

'The last thing I remember before waking up here is being in a spaceport elevator.' Majgen tried to ignore her own confusion, to instead focus more on Baglian's knowledge.

'He won't disapprove of some direct questions now.'

This realization tempted the insecure student. She was on the verge of blurting out her questions, but she stopped herself.

'Slow down,' Majgen advised herself, 'you want to be on as good terms with him as possible. He will be pleased if you gain the knowledge without asking.' She followed her own advice and remained quiet.

Majgen had never truly practiced using her unique perceptive abilities. Her ability to gain extensive information from emanations alone was unheard of amongst mentarions. Mentarion schooling did not teach techniques for sorting vast amounts of information from that source. 

----=(On the matter of mentarion perception)=----

The word emanations was at Majgen's time used as a technical term when speaking of empaths and empathic emissions.

In those days empathic emissions were divided into two groups, emanations and transmissions. Emanations was a broad term describing the energy patterns passively transmitted from the minds of empaths. Transmissions was a term describing energy patterns transmitted actively more or less by will.

One of the reasons for this particular classification system for empathic energy patterns, was that in those days the two categories of emissions had very different effects on privacy amongst empaths. At Majgen's time privacy of mind amongst empaths was extensively increased by raising a mind shield. This increase in privacy was caused by the effects a mind shield had on transmission.

An unfocused empaths transmitted an easily sensed array of emotions by semiconscious transmissions. Transmissions which could be passively sensed by surrounding empaths. Quite similar to sound and the sense of hearing. By focusing and raising a mind-shield an empath could stop these outgoing transmission, hence increasing his privacy.

A mind shield also blocked active probing by other empaths, hence preventing others from performing what was called a 'mind scan'. Probing transmissions of the types used in mind scans, could also be compared to sound and the sense of hearing, this time the comparison would be: Sonar.

A mind shield, however, had no effect on emanations, neither in-going nor out-going, and an empath had no direct control of its emanations.

When Majgen was born it was scientifically as well as popularly believed that emanations contained only basic emotional information, nothing as informative as full memories. Mentarions as well as the weaker human empaths did not ignore emanations, in fact they received extensive education on how to interpret them. They simply did not know there was more to find in them than basic emotions.

Without education strong emotions were easily sensed from emanations, and with a little practice could be interpreted well from context. Fear, anger, sorrow, hate, love, affection, sincere friendliness and lust, all examples of emotions easily perceived even from an empath with a raised mind shield.

During a standard mentarion education, the students were taught methods to interpret more subtle emanations from other empaths, and received extensive training in these matters too. In particular discrepancies between behaviour, speech and emanations, were a matter of importance to mentarions. Extensive training was required to tell if a person was telling a lie or if he was simply speaking against his own conviction, the latter would often be the case when a person was relaying information from another.

A typical example of an exercise used to train mentarions in interpreting emanations was the 'Water and Salt'-exercise. This exercise was primarily used to train mentarions in learning to discern whether a person was lying, speaking against better knowledge, or against their own conviction. The exercise was also used simply to test a mentarion's skill at those aspects of 'emanational analysis'.

The 'Water and Walt'-exercise involved: Three empathic participants. Two glasses of water, some salt, a small stirring rod, and a confined room. The exercise always included putting salt in one glass, and leaving the other glass untouched. The first two participants would enter the room, both of them would have written instructions with them. All participants would keep mind shields up for the duration of the exercise, to ensure emanations were the only empathic source of knowledge.

Step one on the first participants instructions told him whether or not to allow the second participant to watch, while he put salt in one glass and and stirred.

Step two on the first participants instructions told him to hand either the saline or the untainted glass of water to the second participant.

Step three on the first participants instructions told him what he should tell the second participant to say to the third, not yet present, participant; regarding the glass. For example: 

"Tell him I said; this is saline."

Or:

"Tell him I said; this is pure."

Or simply:

"Give him this glass."

After step three the first participant would leave the room through a backdoor. At this point the second participant would read his own instructions. These would tell him either to do as the first participant had said or would instruct him to say something else. After reading these instructions the second participant would let the third enter the room and speak to him regarding the glass.

The first object of the exercise for the third participant, was to figure out if the water he was handed was saline or pure. If it was saline he should spill it in the sink, if it was pure he should take a sip. If the one who handed him the drink truly did not know if it was saline or pure, the third should leave the glass untouched.

The second object of the exercise for the third participant was to state if the second person was lying to him or not. Mostly it was easier for the third participant to tell if the water was saline or not, than if the second participant was lying or not. As in the case where the second knew that the water was saline, but had been told to tell it was pure by the first. In such a case the second participant would say:

"He told me to tell you, it is pure." He would then not be lying, but he would be aware that the information was incorrect. 

The simple exercise contained extensive options for various levels of lies, ignorance, conviction and withholding of information.

Even very young and untrained mentarions would be far superior to non-empaths at choosing the right action with the glass. However the untrained empaths were often not much better than non-empaths at distinguishing if a person was lying or simply speaking against better knowledge. A graduated mentarion would hardly ever do the wrong action with the glass, as long as they were paying proper attention to the exercise. 

Most mentarions of the lower graduated ranks rather often had to admit they could not figure out whether the second participant was lying to them or misinforming them. However, all graduated Mentarions, even of the lowest graduate rank Etaron, were expected to hardly ever present a false statement. It was tolerable that they could not present the correct statement, but they were expected to know when they could be sure and when not.

When a person was communicating with full honesty, human empaths would say; he is telling the full truth. Lying and misinforming was hard to tell apart, but the full truth was very easy to recognize. Any mentarion above student rank 9, the second lowest rank, was expected to be able to recognize without a doubt if a person believed he was telling the full truth solely from emanations.

At Majgen's time a mentarion claiming to perceive information of visual, or audio, or physical sensations from emanations alone, was considered delusional. False claims of such abilities in self or others were indeed often made by certifiably insane empaths.

Student Majgen Rahan did not claim to have such abilities. She just had them.

For four years Majgen had tried to fight them, tried to ignore them. Because her special perceptivity caused her a lot of trouble. Any day in those first four years, after the incident with Femaron Braygen, Majgen would gladly have given her special perceptivity away.

----=(In the travelling suite, part 2)=----

'Is she attempting to perceive information from me?' Baglian wondered when his student had been sitting still for a few minutes. He was hoping she was. The news broadcasts had most of his attention, although he observed his student out of the corner of his mind.

'She is,' Baglian was pleased to conclude. Majgen's emanations had become similar to those of a dreaming person, same as they had been back in the cab. Femaron Baglian kept his mind shield up and focused on the news, intent on letting his student practice her abilities undisturbed.

A seemingly random selection of Baglian's memories streamed through Majgen. She tried to choose what to perceive, but her attempts at sorting what came to her had very little success. Over time Majgen gained most of the information she wanted, but not by active choice. Pieces of what she wanted to know came to her as seemingly random as the selection of older memories.

For a bit more than an hour the Femaron and the tenth ranked Student sat in silence. Baglian watching news broadcasts. Majgen watching Baglian's memories.

Thirst started bothering Majgen, the water she had drunk in the rest room had not been sufficient to last long. In the past hour of gaining further memories from Baglian, she had gained a deeper understanding of Student/Mentor-relationships. She now knew that in private quarters she did not need to ask permission before fetching water. With that in mind, Majgen went to the glass-cabinet to fetch a glass. She was planning to fill the glass with water from the tap meant for hand-washing at the toilet.

While choosing a glass, Majgen could feel her teacher reading the top of her mind.

"Pick yourself a beverage from the drink cabinet, Student," he said.

Majgen opened the drink cabinet to do as told. She had never herself been a first class customer, but she recognized most of the brands in the cabinet from the time she had spent as a youth-worker. A period of her life that had come to a brutal end upon her first encounter with mentarions. The bottles in the cabinet woke memories of having looked at identical bottles in the past.

'Green Perplo, I was arranging several of those on my last day as a youth-worker. As well as red and purple Perplo. Malted Jive Loro too. And Ismeneil Beer and...'

Majgen forced herself to ignore the memories. She reached for the first bottle she did not recognize. Upon inspection it turned out to be a euphoria inducing beverage.

'He wouldn't allow me to drink this,' Majgen thought absently and put the bottle back, to pick another brand she had never seen before. She had to repeat that procedure two more times, before she found a non-alcoholic drink whose bottle was unfamiliar to her. It was called Floosah.

Carrying bottle and glass, Majgen went back to her seat. Baglian turned the viewer off and turned his eyes to his student. His eyebrows rose as he noticed which beverage she had chosen.

'Oh no. It's an unusually expensive drink,' Majgen realized from his emanations.

Before she was discovered, Majgen had worked for a first class caterer in the lower price range. Any first class beverage she was not familiar with - had to be either very rarely requested or from the higher price range of first class: Majgen had not considered this when she picked the Floosah.

'The bottle is still sealed, it's not too late to put it back,' Majgen thought with relief.

"My apologies, Femaron. I will choose another drink, Femaron Baglian," she said, and started getting to her feet.

"Stay," Baglian ordered.

Majgen settled back in the couch and turned her eyes to her teacher, as she always turned her eyes towards someone of higher rank when she expected further instructions were imminent.

"I can afford that beverage. Open it."

'He is not bothered by the cost of my choice,' Majgen realized, 'merely surprised by the audacity of it.'

Few students would have picked such a costly drink, when offered a beverage at their mentor's expense. Majgen would have preferred to replace the expensive drink, but she was certain Femaron Baglian would not appreciate further objections from her. Hence she opened the Floosah, and poured it expertly into her glass. Five years had passed since she had worked, but Majgen still remembered the skills she had perfected back then.

----=(A matter of fear)=----

"I did not know this beverage was of a higher price class than the others, Femaron Baglian," Majgen said to satisfy Femaron Baglian's curiosity.

Baglian leaned back in his seat, inspecting her with eyes and senses. He would not have asked her about her audacity in picking such an expensive drink. However, he found himself to be pleased to get the answer.

He watched her in silence for a few seconds, to see if she would answer more of his unasked questions. When she began sipping her drink without further words Baglian spoke again:

"What other questions can you answer, Student Majgen?"

She turned her eyes to him again. She felt more secure with Femaron Baglian than with any other Femaron she had ever met. However, she had no desire to discover the limits of his unusual ability to appreciate honesty.

"I am a mere rank 10 student, Femaron Baglian." Majgen chose her words carefully. "The things you truly want to know right now, I cannot answer."

She was referring to Baglian's desire to understand the capacity and mechanisms of her perceptive abilities.

"And the things I do not truly want to know?" Baglian asked.

"Everyone carries a lot of uninteresting information, Femaron Baglian," Majgen evaded, stalling while contemplating which parts of his curiosity it would be wisest of her to satisfy. 

"You are a Femaron, any information you should desire from me you can take at will, Femaron. I am a student, I will not try to stop you, Femaron Baglian."




Majgen Ch. 006



Baglian narrowed his eyes at this unnecessary recital of facts of the mentarion ways.

Majgen stopped talking and forgot her contemplations, when she sensed mild hostility in his emanations. Even mild hostility made her fear him. Majgen tried to sense him again with the clarity she had a few moments ago, but found herself unable to. She could no longer follow his line of thought.

The certainty of knowing what he was thinking had kept her anxiety at bay. Now that she was suddenly deprived of that certainty, Majgen's anxiety returned.

"Do you understand what you just did wrong, Student Majgen?" Baglian inquired.

"No, Femaron Baglian."

Majgen's anxiety rose some notches.

'Should I tell him my ability to perceive more than others is failing me right now?' Majgen could not sense if he would want her to - or not.

"I know," Baglian started out, "that in your time in the Mentariata. You have developed your verbal skills extensively, to learn to sneak around questions diplomatically - for the purpose of not enraging mentarions of higher rank than yourself: Especially Femarons."

Majgen's heart skipped a beat, at the way he said 'Femarons'. It was impossible to ignore that Baglian himself was of Femaron rank.

"However you are not in the Mentariata anymore, Student Majgen."

Majgen listened intently, desperate to learn to adapt to Femaron Baglian's demands. 

"You are my personal student. If you ever try to manipulate me again; you will suffer dearly." Baglian paused to let that point sink in.

'Fear.' Baglian clearly sensed the strong emotion in his student.

His next words were served slowly and directly, he wanted to make sure their meaning would not drown in her fear.

"Unlike certain other Femarons, I will not punish you for unintended insults. Not if they come from words I forced from you myself, Student."

In spite of her fear Majgen was surprised to hear a high ranked mentarion put that connection into words. She had experienced that specific scenario countless times, but she had never put it into words, and had never before heard anyone else do so either. 

'I've never heard a Femaron imply that another Femaron's actions were inappropriate, not even indirectly,' Majgen thought.

She had learned of his disapproval of how Femarons had treated her in the Mentariata, already in the cab. However, she had not thought he would ever verbalize such things to her.

"Make sure to absorb this little piece of information to your cowardly head, Student Majgen. If you, ever again, try to change an answer away from the full truth when speaking to me; I will punish you much harder than I would ever do from the insulting content of the truth."

Baglian stared into his student's slightly widened brown eyes.

"Since you are a coward, Student Majgen, the wiser choice for you is to always serve me the untainted truth."

Baglian reached for his own empty glass, and fetched a new drink: Thus giving his now terrified student a moment to think about his words. He paused his speech until he was back in his seat. 

"I had planned to inform you of my policy on truth, as well as evasion of same, earlier than now. However, the GED's decision to shoot you with an electric-pulse gun - rather distorted my plans for the remainder of the day."

Majgen's perceptive abilities were still not fully functional, but any empath would have been able to feel Baglian's irritation regarding that nuisance.

"Did you know that the GED shot you today, Student Majgen?" Baglian asked.

"Yes, Femaron Baglian."

"From my emanations?"

"Yes, Femaron Baglian."

"Very well. Do you have any questions regarding that topic?"

"No, Femaron Baglian."

Baglian nodded and poured his drink into his glass.

'Expertly,' Majgen noticed.

"Now, to return to the matter of not attempting to hide the truth from me," Baglian said, returning fully to his normal dispassionate tone of voice.

"Today, at the tailor design shop, you disobeyed me. When I asked you why you did it; you rewrote the truth so extensively, that it would take either you or a local politician to call it anything but a blatant lie."

As he paused to taste his drink, Majgen perceived the taste-sensations from him, and wished she could perceive something more useful than that.

"I want you to practice informing me truthfully by giving me the true answer to that question," Baglian stated.

"I resorted to thought techniques, to avoid perceiving information from you, Femaron Baglian."

"Yes," Baglian responded, "that answer is fully true, and leaves it up to me to ask further. Or to leave the topic."

Baglian swirled the drink in his cup. Majgen's thirst grew at the sight, her own drink was still untouched. She had not had the nerve to appear inattentive, not even for the few seconds it would take to down a single gulp.

"Why did you want to avoid perceiving information from me?" Baglian asked.

At this point Majgen perceived less from his emanations, than a normal empath would have. She no longer saw an individual named Baglian, who had Femaron rank; what she saw was just yet another Femaron.

'I don't trust his words,' Majgen realized, 'For once I want to be able to perceive well, why can't I sense his intentions?'

Terror diminished the functionality of her conscious mind too. If not for the fear - Majgen would have been able to deduct; his words were reliable. However, in her state of increased anxiety she relied more on semiconscious processes. Those informed her that this scenario was very similar to countless incidents from her past. A multitude of memories of being forced down paths of words, pushed inevitably into verbal ventures, which could only lead to offenses against higher ranking mentarions.

She felt like she was yet again being cornered by a Femaron.

"There were several reasons, Femaron Baglian," Majgen said, "My primary reason was that I thought you would get angry, if I found out too much."

'Her fear is rising, not diminishing.' Baglian was puzzled. 'With her extreme sensitivity, she should have realized by now that I have no intentions of beating her tonight - if only she obeys me fully right now.' Femaron Baglian decided to test his student's perceptive abilities again.

"I am considering spicing this drink," Baglian said and held up his glass. "What might I add to it?"

"I don't know, Femaron Baglian," Majgen replied truthfully.

"Try to perceive it from me," Baglian commanded.

Majgen had attempted to sense him several times already. She tried again when he commanded, and failed.

"I can't, Femaron Baglian," Majgen admitted.

Baglian scrutinized her face and emanations. He reached out with his empathic senses, to feel her mind too.

'Fear of pain has taken full domination of her emotional spectrum,' Baglian noted to himself, 'Her conscious thought processes are a mess.'

Fragments of memories of frightening and painful situations, were swarming through Majgen's conscious mind.

'She is not just afraid, she is in a state of panic,' Baglian realized, 'No wonder she can't perceive.'

An urge to curse internally rose in Femaron Baglian, but he suppressed it.

'In her current state she will interpret any anger in me to be aimed at her.' Baglian got up and stepped towards Majgen. He noticed yet another surge of fear in her in response to his proximity.

"Think of green," he said, and transmitted an image of soothing leaf-green to her mind. 

Majgen did not immediately accept the sedation. She did not fight him, she was just too confused by fear to focus as ordered. Baglian intensified the image till it became irresistible. Majgen's fear finally dissipated as her conscious mind got completely absorbed by fascination with green.

----=(Students and panic)=----

'I'm so tired of cleaning up after idiots, who should never have been allowed to teach,' Baglian thought, while locating at which point her panic had been triggered.

'I'll need to keep this scan brief.' 

He had spent too much time scanning her earlier in the day, his mental stamina was still low. The six minutes Baglian allowed himself in her mind - was plenty time to make all traces of panic abate. It was also plenty time for him to see; the trigger of the panic had been an emanation of slight hostility from himself. His threatening emotion had started associations to a multitude of memories each providing small trauma-effects.

'It's amazing how well she can function while in a state of panic,' Baglian thought. 'Too bad her empathic senses nearly shut down at the first onset of panic. Otherwise, with her perceptive abilities, she would always be able to sense when a situation was safe, and I would only need to teach her to handle panic in situations of danger.'

Baglian withdrew the image of green, slowly and gently.

'At least slightly hostile emanations is only an occasional and not a universal trigger of panic for her.'

One of his past personal students had been a rank 2 student, with at least Syvaron potential, to whom small emanations of hostility had become a universal trigger of panic. The cause of the phobia had been repeated abuse from other mentarions.

Other high ranking mentarions had recommended the young man be transferred to the Empaticon, but Baglian had not given up. He had requested to have the student transferred to his own charge.

Not for the student's sake.

Baglian agreed with the estimate that the student could live a fairly pleasant life - if freed of a mentarion's duties. Baglian motives had been duty to society and a desire to display and push his own abilities as a teacher and as a therapist. It had taken years, as well as an inhuman amount of self-discipline and self-control from Baglian's side, but in the end he had turned the broken young man into a useable mentarion. 

Now, sixteen years after he had first accepted that student, Student Ojas Krawiec, the broken young man had transformed into the insecure, yet stable, Seksaron Krawiec. One rank above Femaron Baglian himself, but still one rank below Ojas Krawiec's empathic potential.

The partially neurotic Seksaron still called Femaron Baglian four times a year. His calls almost always exact on the date, three months apart. Almost once a year, Baglian would let a call lead to a follow up meeting.

He had given up on the possibility of Seksaron Krawiec ever gaining the confidence needed to reach Syvaron rank. A working Seksaron was still a strong contribution to society though. Personally Baglian was bored with the therapeutic needs of Ojas Krawiec, but as long as Baglian deemed it was needed for Krawiec to remain a functional Seksaron, he was willing to perform the task.

----=(Mirrors and memories)=----

Without the fear, Majgen's sensitivity had become fully uninhibited. Even sooner than the image of green left her, Majgen's empathic senses informed her Baglian was neither angry nor vindictive - hence her fear did not return when the image left.

Baglian continued his scan after retrieving the sedation, he was taking a last look at some of his student's subconscious processes. In the meanwhile, Majgen perceived Baglian's memories of Ojas Krawiec. As Student Ojas, as Seksaron Krawiec, as Trearon Krawiec, as a broken student, and as a partly functional Etaron.

'Wounded soul,' Majgen thought, 'Not a commodity. A person.' Her heart objected to Baglian's cold and detached observations, and analysis of Ojas Krawiec.

Baglian turned his attention to Majgen's conscious mind and saw his own memories of Ojas Krawiec. Which made him think consciously of Ojas Krawiec. Femaron Baglian's mind shield was up but Majgen perceived his considerations from his emanations. Baglian saw Majgen think of - Baglian thinking of Ojas, while looking into Majgen, who was thinking of Ojas. But also sensing Baglian, thinking of Majgen, while sensing Majgen who was thinking of Ojas, while also thinking of Ojas. And thinking of...

'Mirrors,' Baglian thought and shut off his empathic senses. He let go of Majgen, and straightened himself. He had a slight nausea.

'Full blown mirror effect, even though I kept my mind shield up.' He went to his chair and sat down again. Grabbed his drink, and took a few small sips to wash away the nausea. He wasn't displeased though.

'Full blown mirror effect, through a raised mind shield. Amazing,' he thought.

Majgen was dizzy. She knew about mirror effects, in theory. But she had never experienced one of this scale. In her five years at the Mentariata, she had done less mentarion exercises than most students did in one year. The effect ceased for her too, when Baglian closed his senses. She could still sense him, but there was no feedback-flow; he no longer sensed her.

With his eyes only - Baglian studied his student,.

"If you sip from your drink the nausea will dissipate faster," he informed her. 

Majgen followed his advice. The first sip, reminded her how thirsty she was. She swiftly emptied her glass. She was too thirsty to notice the savor the delicately composed aroma and taste of the expensive drink. When the glass was empty, she was still thirsty.

"Fetch yourself another drink, Student," Baglian said.

He still kept his senses shut, but she appeared thirsty to the naked eye too. Majgen rose.

"Don't pick a Floosah however," Baglian ordered, "I'm wealthy, but giving Floosah to you seems comparable to using diamonds to clear a sewer clog."

Majgen was not offended by his words, she could sense he had not intended to compare her throat to a sewer. His opinion was simply that downing a Floosah in seconds, was a waste of cash.

At the drink cabinet Majgen closed her eyes before opening it, she did not want to see the first class brand beverages again.

'Femaron Baglian called me a coward,' she remembered, 'He is probably right, but being afraid of bottles is ridiculous.'

She opened her eyes and faced the inanimate objects. They still reminded her of that particular day - five years back, but she held on to her decision; she would no longer allow fear of harmless bottles to control her. Her eyes scanned the cabinet for brands she knew. She made sure to take the time to briefly notice every bottle in the cabinet.

The cheapest drink in the cabinet was an apple-juice. It would have been a logical choice, especially after her first expensive drink. That particular drink had not been present that dreaded day, so it wouldn't wake bad memories to drink it. However, Majgen couldn't stand the taste of apple-juice. Neither fresh nor fermented. If she choose the apple-juice she would be giving in to her fear of memories again.

There was another cheap drink in the cabinet, almost as cheap as the apple-juice. This one she knew she had once liked: Laplap with pineapple flavor and a taint of unsaline salt.

Pineapple Laplap had been present that day.

'I sensed one of them drinking one, sensed how it tasted to him while he looked at me.'

Majgen's mouth went dry. She did not feel like drinking pineapple Laplap, while thinking of the circumstances under which she perceived another mentarion's taste-impression of it.

'I'm a coward, but I refuse to fear harmless bottles!'

With new determination Majgen clenched her teeth and took the Laplap, and immediately opened the bottle. Hence making sure to cut her option of retreat. Baglian had his back to her; his empathic senses were still shut down. She was glad he couldn't sense her fear, she was embarrassed to fear a drink. She eyed the open bottle in her hand, still feeling uncertain.

'You can do it. It's just a beverage. Any coward can drink,' she encouraged herself.

She raised the intimidating bottle to her mouth and gurgled some sips. The pineapple Laplap tasted like she remembered it had tasted to her in the past. It did not taste, to her, like it had tasted to the rank 1 student in her memory. 

She was relieved. Majgen had known her own taste bud chemistry would not change - by her knowledge of another person tasting something differently. Yet somehow she had feared and believed, that if she ever tasted pineapple Laplap again, it would taste like it had tasted to him: That somehow her taste experience of that drink had been tainted forever - by the actions of him and the other young men who were present that day.

'It wasn't his fault that he liked pineapple. It wasn't his fault it tasted different to him either.' Majgen thought to herself.

'Actually none of it was anybody's fault, not even mine.' With that thought she took a fresh glass and went back to her seat.

Once seated Majgen poured the Laplap into the glass, and sipped from it. She was not able to enjoy the sweet drink, as she had done long ago. However, she did not feel inclined to vomit either, and that made her feel victorious.

The two mentarions were quiet a while.

Baglian kept his empathic senses off until his nausea was completely gone. 

----=(Nightmares, frights and believes)=----

"Who is Femaron Braygen?" Baglian asked.

Majgen had been lost in her own thoughts. It took her a moment to remember how she had mistaken Baglian for Femaron Braygen when she woke.

"He was a teacher at the Mentariata some years back, Femaron Baglian," Majgen replied.

"Why were you having nightmares about him?"

"I wasn't, Femaron Baglian."

"No?"

"No, I wasn't dreaming about Femaron Braygen at all, Femaron." She sensed Baglian's curiosity and volunteered more information:

"I was dreaming of Hawlun, Femaron Baglian."

"Hawlun," Baglian said, and paused to calculate before he continued: "You were four years old back then?"

"Five, Femaron. My birthday is in first month."

"I saw Hawlun after it happened." Baglian did not need to explain what he meant by 'it'. Noone did, when talking of Hawlun.

"I was in one of the later search and rescue teams," he explained.

'Not even his detached professional approach - was able to shield him from being affected by Hawlun,' Majgen perceived.

She also sensed something in him she had never sensed before.

Shame.

Baglian had requested to not be assigned to treating Hawlun-orphans for post-traumatic effects. Even though he had never admitted it to himself, he had been ashamed of it. He was still ashamed of it, but he never allowed himself to remember that shame.

'Not with his conscious mind,' Majgen realized.

The majority of human empaths had volunteered to temporarily leave their normal duties to aid the Hawlun-orphans, thus it had been easy for Baglian to dodge that duty.

"I am sorry for your loss," Baglian admitted, to both himself and her. Then he moved his thoughts away from his memories of Hawlun, and returned to the matter of Femaron Braygen.

"But you mistook me for this Femaron Braygen, didn't you?" Baglian asked.

"Yes, Femaron Baglian." Majgen replied calmly. She had no desire to talk of Femaron Braygen, but even Braygen would be an easier topic than Hawlun itself.

"Can you explain, why you would have wanted to attack me - had I been him, Student Majgen?" Baglian asked.

"I was not quite awake, Femaron Baglian. I would not try to attack Femaron Braygen if I met him on the street." Majgen only took a very short pause before continuing. She did not want Baglian think; she was trying to withhold information from him again.

"Femaron Braygen forced me to relive my memories of Hawlun, Femaron." She searched for words, and the ones she found seemed empty to her.

"It was very unpleasant," she finished.

"He made you relive memories of Hawlun as a therapeutic measure?"

Baglian was puzzled, he did not think much of the Mentariata's teachers at this point, but still had a hard time believing any Femaron would be sufficiently stupid to think - revival of Hawlun memories could benefit any Hawlun-orphan.




Majgen Ch. 006



"No. Femaron Baglian."

"Then why?"

"He did it as punishment, Femaron."

Majgen realized her words, were practically a lie and corrected herself.

"Actually. Revenge, might be a more suitable word, for his motives, Femaron Baglian. But I never saw him after that. So I cannot tell you for sure, Femaron."

Majgen would not have spoken that frankly of ill actions by Femarons if they had not been alone, nor if she had not known Baglian was willing to listen such things. Even under these circumstances she would not have spoken so freely - if not for Femaron Baglian's clear statements on the dangers of withholding information from him.

Baglian felt anger trying to rise inside himself in response to the picture Majgen's words painted. He forced it away, he was not one to allow personal feelings to interfere with his work. Speaking with Majgen was, to him, just another part of his work.

Majgen followed his line of thought, and considered it wise to inform him as fully as she could.

"Every teacher at the Mentariata is sure that Femaron Braygen was acting under the influence of my emanations. Self-destructive emanations from my subconscious mind, Femaron Baglian." Majgen took a sip from her drink.

"A Femaron affected beyond the ability to control himself, by self-destructive emanations?" Baglian asked.

He had noted a discrepancy in her emanations when she spoke of the impression the teachers had. It made him acutely aware of how she avoided speaking of her own impression. But he wanted the subject of a Femaron's susceptibility to emanational influence settled first. Majgen was too occupied with finding words to notice how Baglian analyzed her wording.

"I had not made such emanations for weeks before that time. Femaron Baglian. The other teachers believed that was one reason for Femaron Braygen not to pay conscious attention to my emanations. Also, Femaron Braygen was very distraught when my emanations became self-destructive."

'I won't need to explain how empaths are less likely to consciously notice self-destructive emanations when distraught to a Femaron,' Majgen thought, and didn't elaborate on that aspect.

"Now you have told me what the teachers believed," Baglian pointed out to her, "What do you believe, Student Majgen."

Majgen sincerely desired to avoid the topic of her beliefs, but she had not forgotten Femaron Baglian's rules regarding full honesty. She abandoned ideas of evasion sooner than they formed in her mind.

"I am not sure what to believe, Femaron Baglian. I am not a well-trained mentarion. I am a rank 10 student, I should not second guess Femarons, and I am certainly not equipped to know which high ranked mentarion is right, when there are disagreements."

"There were disagreements?" Baglian asked, wondering if there had been open dispute regarding the matter of how to deal with Femaron Braygen, after such abusive behavior aimed at a student.

Majgen was surprised at the contemplations behind his question.

"As far as I know, there were no disagreements regarding how to treat Femaron Braygen subsequent to..."

For a moment Majgen was at a loss of words.

'...the torture,' she thought.

"...the ordeal," she said.

"It was his own choice to resign. He did that as soon as he woke from the anesthesia security had put us in."

Nobody had told her of that, but she had inadvertently caught the memory from Femaron Peterson. Braygen's friend who had been with him, when he woke up.

"Mentariata staff considered him an innocent victim of my emanations. He did not become subject of disciplinary action," Majgen finished.

Baglian noticed her referral to other people's impressions again, and also noticed the discrepancy in her emanations again.

"Which disagreements did you refer to then, Student Majgen?" he inquired.

"Did I refer to disagreements, Femaron Baglian?" Majgen asked. She tried to remember her own exact wording.

"Yes disagreement amongst higher ranked mentarions," Baglian reminded her.

"It must have been a mistake on my behalf, Femaron Baglian. As far as I know there were no disputes regarding the matter of Femaron Braygen, Femaron."

Baglian could sense no discrepancies in her when she said that. So he returned the conversation to the point, where he had first tried to track the discrepancies.

"You said, you were not sure what to believe. Student Majgen," he said, interrupting Majgen's attempts to remember in what context she had said 'disagreements'.

Majgen's eyes had wandered, while she was concentrating on what she had said. Now they returned to Baglian's face again. He had not spoken the sentence as a question, so she remained silently attentive.

"Why don't you believe what the teachers believed?" Baglian asked.

Unnoticed by Majgen, herself, a little sigh escaped her as she tried to find a way to reply.

"It was so long ago, Femaron Baglian. Nobody informed me directly of the aftermath of the incident. My knowledge was gained indirectly. Things I sensed from others. Things I heard others tell others," she began.

Majgen got trailed off from her line of thought when she was indirectly reminded of a pack of fifteen rank 6 students, who had cornered her just three days after Femaron Braygen had tortured her mind.

----=(Bullying at the Mentariata)=----

After the incident with Femaron Braygen, Majgen had been excused from all classes and tutoring for a while. She would have preferred to spend all that time in her room. Unlike other students her age, she had a room of her own. However she was forbidden to spend more than a certain amount of hours in her room a day.

Prohibitions regarding usage of private quarters was even more unusual than awarding a rank 10 student a private room. Before her access to her own room had been limited, she had hid there whenever she was not attending class. Ottearon Weissme had personally decided not to allow her to continue to use her room that way, he had hoped that forcing Majgen out of her private quarters would make her less isolated.

Three days after the incident, Majgen had found that the classrooms numbered 60-70 were all scheduled to be unused for several hours. Leaving a whole hallway likely to be vacated. Majgen had made a habit of checking classroom schedules to find places where she could be alone. She usually avoided the frequently vacated areas on Mentariata grounds. Long ago, she had decided that - when aiming to be alone - she had to make sure the place was completely desolate. Experience had taught her that it was not safe for her - to run into students in unsupervised areas.

Majgen went to the hallway where classrooms 60-70 were located twenty minutes after last class in the hallway was scheduled to end. She walked it through, end to end, making sure it was really vacated.

'All clear for leisure time,' Majgen thought, and picked a comfortable couch.

Once seated, she took out her wallet to watch a comedy show. Subtitles on and sound off. If anyone should come near she did not want the sound from the show to alert them of her presence.

Majgen double checked the safety of her spot.

'Should work,' she thought, 'I'm partly hidden from view of the open end of the hallway, if anyone should pass by.'

The other end of the hallway ended in an elevator, she wasn't hidden from view if anyone should enter the hallway from that.

'Doesn't matter though,' Majgen reassured herself, 'nobody has any business in this hallway for the rest of the day, and student's never go here for fun.'

Twelve minutes after Majgen had seated herself, she got a shock.

One of the classroom doors opened behind her. A classroom full of teenagers around her age came bustling out. Laughing and talking. They had been kept late. Their teacher had felt a desire to repeat demonstrations more times than planned. None of those students had more classes planned that day, so the teacher had had free hands to do as she pleased.

Majgen froze a second at the sudden commotion behind her, but she did not turn to look at the students. Very quietly she reached out to her wallet. She touched the fold field she always kept ready on its screen, in case of situations like this. The wallet took four seconds to fold to standard transportation size. It felt like four minutes to Majgen. 

She picked her folded wallet up. While slowly getting to her feet, she put the wallet in her left wrist pocket. Her hood was up, she kept it up even while relaxing alone. She only took it down for classes or if someone addressed her.

'Slowly now, no sudden movements, don't draw attention to yourself,' Majgen thought, and began walking towards the elevator. Slowly.

'Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid,' she soundlessly repeated to herself, over and over. An awkward attempt to make herself not feel fear. She was afraid. Behind her more than half the class was out of the classroom. And by the sound of it not many of them had started moving away up the hall, and away from her, yet.

She was sure there was no Femaron with them. Teachers usually left classrooms through teacher's entrances. From the way they were laughing and talking freely, Majgen got the clear impression there was no teacher's aid with them either.

The delayed class had been for rank 6 students. Majgen was fourteen years old and still only rank 10, most mentarions her age were somewhere between rank 7 and 6. Most of the young teenagers coming out of the classroom huddled in a group, where one was showing others something he had been given as a gift. They were so occupied in conversation that none of them noticed the clear emanations of fear from Majgen.

Majgen was more than halfway to the elevator before one of them happened to glance in her direction.

"Hey look, it's the freak," the student who spotted her said.

Most of the others in the group turned their heads to look in the same direction as the boy talking.

"You mean the retard?" a girl asked.

"No, that's not the retard, that one is the freak," the boy replied, "The retard is taller and walks funny."

"Hey freak!" another boy yelled.

Majgen walked on, trying to keep the exact same pace. She felt an urge to break into a run, but she feared that would provoke them to chase her. They were higher rank than her; if they called for her she would have to go to them. Otherwise she would be punished for disobedience. The mentarion ways, however, did not require her to respond to nicknames.

"Student Majgen!" a fourth one of them, this one a girl, yelled.

Majgen stopped dead in her track. Her title and name; those she was not allowed to ignore. She pushed her hood back and turned round. Keeping her head bowed, she stared at the floor while her fear grew. She stood absolutely still, facing in the direction the yell had come from, the direction of the group.

'Please let me go.' Majgen thought, 'Please just insult me and tell me to run off.'

"Get over here, Student Majgen," the girl yelled.

Majgen started walking. Her legs felt heavy as lead, but she tried to keep the pace fast enough to not be offensive to the one who gave the order.

The group consisted solely of rank 6 students.

"Are you crazy, Student Harriet Cowl?" another girl, Laila, asked the girl who had yelled for Majgen to come. "Haven't you heard what happened in the cafeteria last ninth month?"

"Are you scared, Student Laila Java?" Harriet asked with a condescending smile and continued:

"Feel free to run away and hide from the freak. I, myself, am not going to hide from a freak, this is my school."

"Don't be such a wimp, Student Laila Java," a boy named Sput Krano followed up, "we can't allow freaks to make the real students hide."

"I'm not scared," Laila said, everyone present could sense she was lying about her fear, "I'm being cautious. We are only rank 6 students, we can't claim to be immune." Everyone present could feel, she believed the second statement. 

"Well, let us all be cautious then," Student Harriet said, "Does anyone feel hate towards the freak?"

Harriet looked at all present, feeling quite entertained.

"Don't be shy," Harriet continued, "feel free to speak up. Pure hate is one of the first signs of primal rage."

Majgen stood still, she was fairly sure none of them were affected by her emanations. She was scared, but she couldn't sense hate or rage in any of them. Hate was a very strong emotion, just as easy to discern as fear. She would have felt it, if any of them were feeling it.

No one responded to Student Harriet's question at first, but just as Student Harriet decided to proceed with a new show; Student Sput Krano stole the attention of the other students away from her.

"I hate the freak!" he exclaimed, and continued his rave with a badly imitated snarl, "I want to kill her!"

Both his emanations and his badly performed exaggerated act made it obvious to all, he was joking. Most of the group rewarded his efforts with laughter.

"This isn't funny," a serious looking student said. His name was Otto Bandera. "I don't hate her, but she gives me the creeps." He looked round at the rank 6 students. "It wasn't just the incident at the cafeteria. There's been many incidents. Several of them involving high ranked students. I heard from a reliable source that the day she got discovered she got under the skin of a whole ranked-it-up party. A rank 1 party."

Otto paused a moment to let that piece of information sink in, and give the least sensitive amongst the others a moment to realize he wasn't lying, before continuing.

"But that's not the worst part. Three days ago she got to Femaron Braygen. That's why he quit mid-season."

"I heard she got to Femaron Braygen's teaching aid," a student who had laughed at Sput Krano's act said and added; "Femaron Braygen dismissed a whole class early to deal with his affected aid."

More of the students joined the debate about rumours of incidents involving Student Majgen. They ignored her presence. Majgen considered using the chance to run off, but she felt sure their attention would return to her if she moved and remained still.

Younger teenagers studying at the Mentariata, looked different than non-empathic teenagers. Mentarion uniforms were unlike anything non-empaths wore. Another visible difference was that mentarion students wore either none or very little make-up, also mentarion students all had hair colours that looked like it could be the one they were born with.

Teen mentarion students did not speak like non-empathic teenagers. A large difference in phrasing was of course the formal demands of the mentarion ways. However, that was not the only aspect of speech in which these students differed. Sixth ranked students 

controlled a vocabulary that many adult non-empaths couldn't claim to possess.

Most of the rank 6 students in front of Majgen, was fourteen like herself. Those had been at the Mentariata for four years. To claim rank 6 these teens had not just learned the basics of certain mentarion techniques, they had also gained knowledge of politics, history and other social sciences to a degree that made them academically equal to adult non-empaths in the second year of studying social sciences at university level.

Student Harriet Cowl was soon bored with the rumor comparisons, she turned her attention back to Majgen.

"Student Majgen, I need a subject to train my abilities on," Harriet claimed, "Are you available, Student?"

Majgen's stomach clenched so hard it began to hurt, she had no classes to attend and no homework to be done at this time. No excuses she could make and she knew lying was impossible too.

"I am available, sixth ranked Student Harriet Cowl." Majgen had made sure to memorize the girl's name, to be able to address her properly.

After finishing the sentence Majgen bowed to her equal aged superior. 

Harriet did not usually harass rank 10 students - unless they were stupid enough to act obnoxious in her general vicinity. Ten year old children were more likely to awake protective instincts in her than pack mentality instincts. To Harriet it was fascinating; to sense a student of her own age fearing her.

'She fears me like I would fear a Femaron,' Harriet realized.

Harriet's power over the other teen asserted her with a very real feeling of having progressed, since she was enrolled in the Mentariata four years earlier. Student Harriet, moved closer to Majgen. Standing right in front of Majgen, the sixth ranked student raised her hands and pressed her palms against Majgen's ears.

Standard frontal standing scanning position.

The rest of the group ceased the debate of rumors and turned their attention to Majgen and Harriet. Partially distracted by the now very strong emanations of fear from Majgen, and partially distracted from a talk of rumors - by realizations of an option to gain a direct witness account.

Being rank 6 students, none in the group had received proper training in performing mind scans yet. Student Harriet's entry was painful to Majgen. The pain was not intentional from Harriet's part, it was just a side effect of untrained clumsiness. Harriet did not know how to mind sedate, but once she was inside Majgen's mind her movements became less painful. Mostly because Harriet moved her mental view, very slowly.

Without experience with mind scanning Harriet had trouble discerning conscious, unconscious and semiconscious processes. She could not navigate between them, nor really understand what she was sensing from them. Harriet wasn't planning to look for something particular in Majgen's mind. She just hoped to find something interesting, something to show off to the others. She hadn't been trained in mind scans, but Harriet knew how to mind share. Whatever she found within Majgen she could show to others.

Harriet concentrated, and managed to recognize something that reminded her of mind sharing. A feeling of memories. She plunged into one of them, and viewed it not knowing what kind of memory it was. The other students could see Student Harriet Cowl's eyes widen as she began seeing, without using her eyes. She even moved her head a bit as if looking around.

Abruptly, Harriet took her hands off Majgen's ears, as if she had been burned. She turned and took a step away from Majgen. Harriet drew some fast gasping breaths. Her mouth was twitching at the edges. Majgen stood still, she did not know what Harriet had been looking at. She was just trying to cope with her fresh headache, caused by Harriet's untrained intrusion.

The other students thought Harriet looked nauseous.

"Did you get a little look in the mirror, Student Harriet Cowl?" one asked with a smirk, assuming Harriet's ill-being was caused by mirror-effects.

Harriet ignored the comment, she was still filled with the images she had seen. A second later she ran to the nearest waste bin and lost the remains of her lunch to it. Another girl, a friend of Harriet, went to her side and helped holding her hair back, when she vomited a second time.

"Looks to me like she got a gooooood look in the mirror," Student Sput Krano said, causing most of the students to break into laughter.

Harriet coughed and started spitting the taste of vomit out of her mouth. She shook her head in response to his words, but spat a few more times before talking.

"No, it wasn't a mirror effect," Harriet stated, her voice was shaky.

Harriet straightened herself and went to a close-by drinking fountain; washing out the taste of vomit before talking again.

"You wont believe what I saw in her mind."

Harriet was recovering from the surprise and horror of what she had seen. Now she was preparing to harvest attention from her discovery. She acted like she wasn't going to say more; waiting for someone to take the bait.




Majgen Ch. 006



Majgen was looking at Harriet same as the others, even after a year at the Mentariata she was still disturbed by having her memories and feelings put on display by others.

'What did she see?' Majgen wondered, 'what kind of game is she going to start?' In the beginning of her fourteenth year of life Majgen's empathic perception of her surroundings was still very sporadic.

Harriet's friend was the first to take the bait.

"What did you see?" she asked with two parts curiosity and one part concern for her friend.

Theatrically Harriet delayed her reply, with a sense of drama she turned her eyes to Majgen - before serving the sentence she had prepared.

"Student Majgen is a Hawlun orphan."

All the students turned their eyes to Majgen, some of them almost gaping with morbid fascination. Majgen started shaking. This was not visible through the long outer cloak of her uniform. However, the panicked movements of her head, as she started glancing all around her for escape routes was.

"Hold her, she is going to make a run for it," Harriet yelled.

Her words were like a start signal for Majgen - who began a sprint towards the open end of the hallway. If corporal punishment for disobedience was the price she had to pay to avoid reliving her memories of Hawlun again, then Majgen was willing to pay it. 

She did not make it past the group of students. One of them kicked her shin when she tried to run past him. Very efficiently making her trip over his leg. Majgen did not give herself time to recover from the impact with the floor, before scurrying to her feet. She was too slow though. The student who had made her trip grabbed the hood hanging down her back and pulled with force. Hence Majgen fell again, before she had even gotten on her feet, this time on her back.

"Where do you think, you are going tenth ranked Student?" he asked with a grin.

Majgen stared at him. She was not in a state of panic, but she was very, very afraid. 

'They are not acting under the affect of my emanations.' Majgen was sure of it, but she knew how cruel students could be, even without primal rage effects.

She was caught, she was outnumbered, and she was terrified.

The student had a tight grip on her hood. There was only one means of escape left to her. If she used that, she would regret it later; Mentariata staff would see to that. Students could be cruel, but nothing students did to other students compared to the punishments angry Femarons could resort to.

Majgen reached her arms above her head, a futile attempt to wrestle his hands loose from her hood. Rather than just holding on to the hood, he repositioned himself to sit on her stomach.

"This really is no way for a tenth ranked Student to behave amongst superiors," he said while letting go of her hood and grabbing hold of her wrists instead. Pinning her down completely.

"I need a subject for training my mentarion skills too," he claimed.

Majgen raised a mind shield in desperation.

"Now that really is no way to behave amongst superiors," he stated, referring to her mind shield, "Are you going to lower that mind shield yourself, or do you want me to tear it down?"

"I shared apples with a baker yesterday," Majgen said.

"What?"

"I shared apples with a baker yesterday," Majgen repeated with a shaky voice, and again with desperation evident in her voice. "I shared apples with a baker yesterday!" 

"What is she..." someone began a question, but it was interrupted by a three-tone alarm from loudspeakers in the hallway.

All the rank 6 students went quiet to listen. Majgen closed her eyes and kept her mind shield up, she was shaking with fear. She had taken the last resort, there was no way back now.

"Emergency in Everbloom hallway. Emergency code 45D. Emergency in Everbloom hallway. Emergency code 45D."

The loudspeakers kept repeating the message with a calm and gentle female voice emulation. Each time the message had been repeated twice, the security program played the three note alarm sound before repeating the message twice again.

The students looked at each other with puzzlement, one of them realized something of importance to the group:

"We are in Everbloom hallway."

These words caused some of them to look around, half expecting to see an emergency in progress, somewhere in the hallway, but they and Majgen were the only ones in the hallway.

"It was her!" Student Otto Bandera exclaimed pointing at Majgen, "The freaking whore just voice activated a security protocol." He glanced around nervously.

"I didn't do anything wrong. Im out of here," Otto said and started running to the hallway's open exit.

A couple others followed his example, not all of them running though.

"None of us did anything wrong," Student Sput Krano said and stood his ground. "She is the one who is going to get in trouble for this. Not us."

Student Harriet Cowl nodded, she stood her ground too. Several who had not participated directly, stayed for reasons of curiosity of what would happen next.

Sixth ranked Student Otto Bandera was the first to reach the exit of hallway Everbloom, but he didn't get much farther. A security personnel staff member had been close by when the alarm sounded, and arrived in time to see Otto speeding out of the hallway.

Without hesitation the security guard shot Student Otto with an electric pulse. He shot the next student speeding out of the hallway too. This one fell in plain view of the other students. At first the remaining rank 6 students assumed he had tripped in his hurry to get away.

The security staff member rounded the corner and began shooting every student he saw, starting with the ones closest to him; a panic broke out in the remaining students.

His gun was set to stun, not kill. That distinction, however, was not clearly visible to those watching the shooter in work. With less than a second between each shot the single shooter managed to stun all sixteen students present, including Majgen, before more personnel arrived to the scene. The alarm was not cancelled until a Femaron, one of the teachers, arrived and searched the hallway with empathic senses, to be sure no one was hiding from plain sight.

Two of the students had received hard blows to their head from the impact with the floor, when they were shot unconscious. One had broken an arm. The rest got away from their meetings with the floor with minor bruises.

Before Majgen was given a new voice activation code, she was severely punished for her abuse of her voice activation code. She had only been meant to say: 'I shared apples with a baker yesterday' if she had found herself in a situation where her emanations had triggered primal rage in persons around her. She was not meant to use the alarm-activating code when being harassed by students. Especially not when the harassment was not in breach with Mentariata rule sets.

----=(A matter of not being sure)=----

Baglian did not spare his student long moments to dwell on memories.

"Be more specific, Student. Explain what caused your doubt in the understanding, the Femarons had achieved."

"My apologies, Femaron Baglian," Majgen said, both for letting her mind trail off somewhat and for having been unable to be more specific sooner. "The matter is hard to specify."

"That is often the case with impressions and believes," Baglian informed her dispassionately, "Keep trying, and try harder."

"I came to the understanding that one person believed that another person believed that; Femaron Braygen had not been entirely blameless." Majgen felt a bit nervous about expressing herself with such primitive wording in front of a Femaron. "I am sorry, I cannot express the matter more clearly, Femaron Baglian."

Baglian leaned back and considered her words, before speaking again.

"This other person who supposedly believed Femaron Braygen was not blameless. You found yourself unable to perceive the information from him?"

"I have never been within sensing range of him after the incident with Femaron Braygen, Femaron."

Baglian sensed a brief flash of a feeling of loss in her emanations.

"Was it someone you were close to?" Baglian asked.

"No, Femaron," Majgen said, she was almost surprised to sense Baglian perceiving that she regretted that circumstance, she had barely noticed that feeling herself.

"Who was it?"

"It was Ottearon Weissme," Majgen said, "He was my personal student counsellor, since I was first enrolled at the Mentariata, Femaron. I saw him as late as a few days prior to what happened with Femaron Braygen. But two days after that incident, I received word that he no longer had time to act as a student counsellor."

Majgen caught herself sighing, when she perceived Baglian noticing her reaction to her own words.

"I never saw him in person after that," Majgen continued. "His workload must have truly changed. During my first year at the Mentariata I often saw him in hallways and parks. After he assigned me to another counsellor I never saw him again."

After completing that sentence Majgen reached for her drink and silently admitted to herself that it had been a loss. She had been scared of Ottearon Weissme, like she had been scared of all mentarions of higher rank than her. However, she had gotten the impression that Ottearon Weissme liked her, an impression she did not usually get from mentarions.

'Did she never suspect a connection between those two events?' Baglian wondered. 

Majgen returned her eyes and attention to him as if he had spoken his contemplation out loud.

'Femaron Baglian is convinced that Ottearon Weissme was avoiding me on purpose.' Majgen realized. 'Why would he..'

The full extent of Baglian's considerations came to her faster than she could think the question to herself. She averted her eyes from him again, focusing on what she sensed.

'Politics, knowledge not meant to be shared with any random mentarion. Especially students too young to understand the finer details of society,' Majgen thought to herself in understanding of the contemplations Baglian made after her words.

'Not a coincidence. Why did I never understand that? Why did no one in my vicinity think of that? A man of such influence, such power, of course he could not allow a mere student to see his memories.'

Majgen did not know she was about to cry until she felt a tear run down her cheek.

'He abandoned me for politics, he lied to me. He was the only one who cared about me, and he lied to me.'

Majgen turned her face back to Baglian, she could see herself through his eyes. She could see the single tear moving down her cheek slowly, and she could feel Baglian's reaction to it.

'He doesn't care about my sadness. He is analyzing it, but he feels no compassion for me. To him I am only an unused resource, like Krawiec was - a wreck that needs to be salvaged.'

Majgen blinked freeing the water still in her eyes to two fresh tears, one for each cheek. 

'Have you no heart, Femaron Baglian? Are you a machine? Is that what I should be too? Will that make me happy? Will that take away my loneliness and pain?'

"May I go to bed now, Femaron Baglian?" she asked.

"Yes. Student Majgen." He watched her as she went to the smaller bedroom, without needing to ask for directions.

*

Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID Ellynei)

Feedback of any kind, highly appreciated.



Majgen Ch. 007



----=(Empaths and politics)=----

Twelve centuries prior to Majgen's birth, it was officially confirmed and publicly announced that a minority of humans possessed empathic abilities. Soon after the existence of human empaths became public knowledge, programs were made to track empaths and enslave them in governmental employ.

By the time Majgen was born, human empaths had long since gone from being a feared and abused minority to being respected pillars of society, a position human empaths in general, mentarions in particular, desired to maintain.

Originally empaths had been counted as one minority, simply 'the empaths'. However, seventy-nine out of every eighty empaths only needed the general population to understand that sensing emotions wasn't all too different from being very good at reading body language. One out of every eighty empaths needed the general population to believe that strong empaths could be trusted with the abilities to scan the minds of others. As a result of this the stronger and the weaker empaths had been split, and the word mentarion had been defined.

Even though mentarions were so rare, most humans were fascinated by the concept of mind readers - fascinated and scared. The sub-culture and sub-society of the weaker empaths was rather similar to the general society and culture of humans. The weaker empaths, gathered under the Empaticon, could afford an image of being very much like regular people.

The mentarions, however, could not afford an image of being like everyone else. Their abilities were too frightening. The stronger empaths had to make the general public believe that they were more than just average people, that they could be trusted to use their abilities for the greater good, that they were an asset not a liability.

The rules of the Mentaricon and the mentarion ways were not build on ideology. They were created with the needs of the public opinion in mind. The strict formalities and protocols of mentarion interactions, including the constant adherence to rank, were a tool to make outsiders consider mentarions exceptionally dignified. The dependence on empathic potential, within the mentarion rank system, was a tool to strengthen another myth. Namely, that empathic abilities in themselves lead to greater wisdom and adherence to duty.

The extensive mandatory education of mentarions had multiple purposes. Amongst others it ensured that every mentarion had an extensive academic background, this made it easier to create an image of mentarion wisdom. Their education also made mentarions, as a group, more politically aware, hence politically stronger.

Originally the mentarion ways had been a means to build a facade. Centuries after their creation the mentarion ways still served that purpose, but most mentarions no longer viewed the mentarions ways as an artificial means to an end; the mentarion ways had become a genuine lifestyle, a culture. By the time Majgen was born mentarions were almost as susceptible to the myths surrounding mentarions, as non-empaths were.

The political structure of the mentarion sub-culture had been designed with the purpose of building an appearance, many traits which could have provided stability had been sacrificed to this end, and many traits which induced instability had been implemented to this end. The Mentaricon could very easily be torn apart from the inside.

The political position of the Mentaricon was fragile. Constantly threatened from the inside, by its own inherent instability, and from the outside, by the moods of public opinion. Only the most politically aware understood this, even amongst mentarions only a minority knew how insecure the foundation of their lifestyle was. 

----=(That particular day)=----

Upon being discovered, empaths were transferred to the empathic sub-societies. Most empaths were discovered prior to the age of seven, a very few as late as ten or eleven. All empaths under the age of ten, were the responsibility of the Empaticon - the weaker empaths' sub-governmental structure. At the age of ten those of mentarion strength was transferred to the Mentaricon.

Majgen Rahan was discovered at the exceptionally late age of thirteen.

On the day of the incident that lead to her discovery many traditional, although unofficial, celebrations of student rank promotions had been taking place. Majgen served at one of these celebrations, although she was only thirteen at the time she was working alone. It was unusual for youth-workers to work alone, but the amount of celebrations taking place at once combined with unexpected illness amongst employees had forced the caterer she worked for to make that decision.

Mentarion students were taught the value of dignified behaviour from the age of ten, the reckless behaviour common in other varieties of students was not to be found with them. Normally if any student would get unruly or violent at a student party, other students would have interfered.

A lone servant should have been safe, especially such a young one, but Majgen was not a normal girl.

----=(Ottearon Antwoine Weissme, the man)=----

"There has been a mishap at one of the parties, Ottearon. Do you have time to come and help us sort things out, Ottearon Weissme?"

Those had been the exact words Weissme heard when answering one of his emergency lines. On that line 'mishap' meant 'disaster', and 'do you have time' meant 'this is bad news'. 'Help us sort things out' on the other hand was open for interpretation. The phrase implied the situation could be solved without Weissme's aid, but that the staff member calling expected Weissme to want to solve the issue in person.

'Ranked-it-up parties,' Weissme thought while entering the hall, 'the most lively season for my school.'

When he saw the beaten girl he immediately realized that this incident would have a deteriorating impact on the prestige of his school.

'A student party gone wrong for reasons of booze or maybe even strong drugs,' Weissme immediately concluded. He did not think of ways to cover up the incident - at this point.

If Weissme's first assumption had been right, he might not even have planned to do so later. Scandalous incidents of violence - involving studying or educated mentarions - were rare but not unheard of. The public opinion of mentarion ways would be partly restored by the severe added punishment of the offenders.

Everyone knew that after the punishment required by regular laws had been served, mentarions who committed regular crimes could expect further punishment by the mentarion authorities.

The sight of the bruised, sobbing and still naked girl on the floor was heartbreaking to Ottearon Weissme. She was shivering, lying on the side covering her face with her arms.

'Why have no one covered and comforted the poor girl?' Weissme wondered.

Anger rose in Weissme, anger towards the Mentariata staff members who had arrived prior to him.

'They should have taken proper care of her sooner, not just left her there like that while waiting for me to arrive. I'll make sure to give them reason to regret being so heartless,' Weissme noted to himself, 'Sometimes being an Ottearon has advantages.'

The moment he stepped towards the girl, he began to realize why she had not been helped; the teen was still emanating subconscious self-destructive emotions. Not as powerfully as she had hours ago, but enough to explain his staff's heartless behaviour, enough for the Ottearon to realize that this incident was not simply caused by drugs or alcohol. 

Ottearon Weissme was sufficiently skilled and experienced to recognize her emanations for what they were and to ward off their effects. Instead of hating and despising the girl, as the emanations would make an unaware mentarion do, he retained his own emotions. He felt even more sorry for the girl now; he began to understand the nature of the ordeal she had been through.

Weissme moved plates and food off one of the tables to free the table cloth. He needed something to cover the girls nudity. While he wrapped her in it, he used his empathic abilities to soothe her mind, to sedate her and to stop her self-destructive emanations.

He wanted to know exactly what had happened, and he wanted to find out who she was. He expected a few questions to his staff and a quick mind scan of the girl would suffice for that.

'And then we can send her to the hospital and call GED-authorities to take over legal matters,' Weissme planned.

'To make such pervasive emanations, this girl has to have at least Syvaron potential. Why haven't I met her yet?' he wondered.

Ever since he got in charge of the Mentariata Ottearon Weissme had always made sure to become personally acquainted with the most powerful students.

"Who is she, Femaron?" he asked one of his staff.

"Majgen Rahan, she was serving the party, Ottearon Weissme."

"Serving? Who assigned a female student to serve at an all male ranked-it-up party?" Weissme's brows furrowed, he couldn't think of anyone in his staff who would make that mistake.

"Female Student? Ottearon I don't know what you... Oh." The Femaron hadn't realized the girl was an empath. Now she couldn't understand why she hadn't noticed earlier. "She is not a registered empath, Ottearon. She is not a student, she works for a caterer."

"Works? How old is she, Femaron?" Weissme asked.

"Let me check, Ottearon." The Femaron took a few seconds to find the answer.

"Thirteen. She is a youth-worker, Ottearon Weissme."

'Poor child,' Weissme thought, and began scanning Majgen's mind. By mind control he kept her fully sedated while viewing her memories of the day.

From Majgen's memories of the male students' behaviour in the time just before the abuse began, Weissme got a suspicion that the male students had not been affected by drugs or alcohol when the abuse had first begun. Weissme sincerely hoped that the memories in the minds of her attackers, the male students, would disprove that suspicion.

It was truly disturbing to him that Majgen was not a student at the Mentariata.

'She doesn't even realize she is an empath,' Weissme noted to himself.

There was no time to ponder how this strong an empath could have escaped discovery till the age of thirteen.

'The hospital will have to wait a while,' Weissme decided. He didn't understand the full causality of the incident yet. However after scanning Majgen he had a strong feeling - that it would be unwise to turn the matter over to GED-authorities, at least for now.

'This incident might be of the type that needs to be actively hushed.'

For a moment Weissme turned his senses towards the closest of his subordinates. As he had expected the staff-member had neither conscious nor unrealized feelings of animosity towards the girl anymore. Not now that Majgen's self loathing emanations had ceased. Ottearon Weissme held the girl in his arms for a few more seconds - allowing himself to feel pity for the teenaged child. Then he ordered his staff to keep the girl sedated and pain-free by means of mind control.

He truly did not wish for her to suffer.

As soon as he stepped away from the child, Weissme started pushing all feelings of pity or care towards the girl out of his thoughts. Antwoine Weissme was not a cold-hearted man. But he was able to make cynical decisions for what he considered the greater good. Without such personality traits he could never have become the primary leader of one of only three existing mentarion educational facilities. 

No direct political power came with the embassy, yet no one who understood the nature of the mentarion subculture could deny the indirect power of being the leader of the Mentariata. Though many would crave the power and the prestige of his employ, not just any Ottearon could have carried the responsibility that came with the post. Antwoine Weissme would not have acted inhumanly for selfish reasons nor for petty prestige; but he was able to do it if the motivations were sufficiently strong.

The first teacher, to arrive on the scene, had herded the male students to an end of the room, to the corner farthest from the girl. The students were not talking amongst themselves, nor to the teacher who guarded them. Weissme expected the young men to feel various degrees of guilt and shame - now that they had been deprived of the girls emanations; he was disconcerted to find he was wrong.

Most of the Students felt fear.

'Fear of punishment,' Weissme assumed, correctly.

Yet, he sensed no real feelings of guilt in any of them, not above what the level a crowd of more than twenty would always emit. Small guilt of the type people could get if they had forgotten to deliver a message on time, or had taken the last piece from a tray of delicacies in front of another person. He couldn't sense any hint of guilt for recently having done harm, shame was similarly missing.

'Righteousness?' Weissme was too surprised to be appalled when he sensed a widespread feeling of righteousness. 'Even those who fears punishment feels righteous. How can they feel righteous after what they did to that girl?' 

Even before actively entering any of their minds, Weissme got a distinct impression - several of them expected not to be punished at all. Those were convinced their actions were so righteous, punishment would be absurd. Weissme was disconcerted that so few of them appeared to be influenced by drugs or alcohol.

----=(First ranked Student Yang Kol's mind)=----

Ottearon Weissme picked one of the students who seemed sober, to scan his memories of the day's events. The student's name was Yang Kol. He was eighteen years old. A good age to reach first rank for a student. Not extraordinary, but rather good. Yang Kol was an intelligent young man, this was reflected by the good grades he got in nearly all classes. When it came to using his empathic abilities Yang was a skilled student, but he also excelled in non-empathic teachings, such as mathematics and physics.

Student Yang had started his day by getting up early to call his biological parents. His empathic abilities had been discovered at the age of four; he no longer remembered the time he had lived with them.

Like any other freshly discovered empath, Yang Kol had been transferred to the custody of mentarion authorities to be raised by empaths. His parents had chosen to remain a part of his life, even though they knew it could only be a small part. They never stopped thinking of him as their son. Yang felt towards them as a non-empath would feel towards distant but cherished relatives. Yang had a warmer relationship to his non-empathic parents, than most adult mentarions.

Yang had been in an excellent mood all morning, he was looking forward to the celebration. Some of his close friends had grown a rank this graduation season too. He had spent the time around lunch with those, all of them made sure to miss the meal. They wanted a large appetite for each their celebration parties. Yang hadn't been listed to same party as any of the others. But that didn't matter much to any of them, they had already planned to share memories of their separate parties. 

The Ottearon skimmed quickly through the early parts of Student Yang's day. From the earlier parts of the day he only needed a general picture of Yang's state of mind when arriving at the celebration. He caught some fractions of memories though, like how Yang had jokingly begged his closest friend to not drink Bonka - a local brand of beer - at his celebration. Yang had claimed that gaining such a memory would traumatize him eternally.

Student Yang Kol had felt good most of the day prior to attending the celebration. More important to Weissme was that Yang had been in harmony with himself, which should have made him less susceptible to being affected by emanations. He had not brought drugs with him to the party, he had not been planning to drink much alcohol either.

'Student Yang stuck to his plan to avoid alcohol and drugs.' Weissme was certain of it. Even now, after participating in the prolonged abuse of the girl, Yang was still sober. 'How could it happen?'

Weissme continued to the Student's memories of the party itself.

The doors to the party-room had been unlocked by Majgen one hour prior to serving time, as tradition demanded. The Ottearon knew from her memories that the first students had arrived ten minutes later. 

#

Yang Kol walked in about twenty minutes before serving time. Eighteen other students were present at this time. They were standing around in groups talking, sipping different delicate beverages or drinks.

'Something is wrong,' Yang immediately realized.

No one was smiling or laughing. There was conversation, but the few talkers spoke with a low voice. The quiet stylish background music drowned out all meaning to anyone not close to the speakers.

While walking to the nearest group of students Yang saw one of them talking. By the time Yang was close enough to hear - the talker had just finished whatever he was telling. The others in the group merely nodded in reply, to what had been said. Their faces were serious, some of them had a controlled angry appearance.

'Such bad spirits cannot stem from anything relating to the celebration,' Yang thought, 'Even if the food is burned crisp black and the only alcohol present is Bonka, there should still be room for laughter. This is a ranked-it-up celebration.'

"Greetings fellow students." Yang Kol said and made a simple bow.

The atmosphere did not invite the traditional foolery of 'ranked-it-up'-parties. If not for the sombre atmosphere Yang would have bowed deeply to one student while saying: Greetings first ranked Student, I am first ranked Student Yang Kol, may I know your name?

The other student would have responded with a deep and exaggerated bow while saying: Greetings first ranked Student Yang Kol, it is an honour to introduce myself to you. I am first ranked Student... followed by his own name.

This greeting was tradition at a 'ranked-it-up'-party, whether or not the students already knew each other. Every student would repeat the procedure throughout the party till they had greeted or been greeted in this manner by everyone else present. There were also set traditional responses for the cases where a student would accidentally greet one he had already exchanged the traditional greeting with. Those would usually be heard and cause riots of laughter in the later hours of 'ranked-it-up'-parties, as more participants became drunk or otherwise affected.

"Greetings Student Yang Kol," one of the others replied.

According to etiquette teachers only added a students first name to the student title when addressing one. The same form of addressing was used by students addressing lower ranked students. But it was common courtesy for students of same rank to add both first and last name. When lower ranked students addressed higher ranked students etiquette demanded they address the higher ranked student by full rank title, and both first and last name. If they did not know both first and last name of the one they addressed, then the full title would suffice.

"Why is everybody's spirit so low?" Student Yang asked directly. Amongst mentarions, pretending to be unobservant was not considered a form of courtesy, the way it often was in normal society.

"The celebration is ruined," one student replied, the rest of the group nodded confirmation.

"What happened?" Student Yang asked.

The students in the group didn't immediately reply, it seemed that each hoped someone else would. Yang clearly felt their still repressed anger. He was starting to feel annoyed himself, he had really looked forward to this party. The exceptional food, the many different sweet and bitter beverages, and the always surprising varied assortment of alcoholic drinks. When going to a 'ranked-it-up'-celebration one could be sure to make several new taste experiences, yet the part everyone always looked most forward to was the unrestrained cheerfulness. 




Majgen Ch. 007



A studying mentarion's daily life was dominated by self-control, etiquette and restraint. 'Ranked-it-up'-parties were the only celebrations where etiquette was truly abandoned. The only celebration where students was allowed to ingest however much alcohol or however many of the legal drugs they liked; unsupervised by superiors.

"You didn't notice yet i assume," the student closest to Yang finally said.

"Notice what?" Yang asked.

"You won't believe the whore we got as a servant," one of the students who hadn't talked yet replied with a hissing voice.

Yang turned his eyes to the speaker.

'He is holding on to his cup with such force, his knuckles have whitened,' Yang noticed.

#

The Ottearon skimmed forward through Yang's memories, he wanted answers fast.

'If this incident needs to be hushed, I'll have to start acting soon,' Weissme reminded himself. He was also unhappy to keep the injured girl from the hospital.

Weissme began a close inspection of Yang's memories from the time the violence had begun.

'His memories at this point has are severely, emotionally distorted,' Weissme noticed. He did not try to remove the distortions to get a clearer image. The girl's memories had not been distorted, Weissme already knew what had happened. What he needed to know now was how it had come to that and why it had continued. 

Weissme focused and scanned Yang's emotional state during the violence.

'After the violence began, the spirits of the students lifted,' Weissme realized. Yang knew this because at that point none of the students had mind shields up - also very common at 'ranked-it-up'-parties.

When the violence had begun all present had either participated or watched intently. Later many students had spent a lot of time simply enjoying the regular aspects of the party. From the moment violence began, till a supervisor arrived hours later, the girl had been constantly harassed and hurt by two to six students at a time. However, the two to six students had been regularly and randomly replaced, all through the party.

'Students walked to and from the girl, the same way students normally walk to and from a table with cakes, or hot beverages, or a cleverly designed decoration,' Weissme thought to himself, he was deeply disturbed by the images, 'They simply enjoyed the regular aspects of the party, and added abuse of the girl to that.' After his quick scan of Majgen herself Weissme had not realized this earlier.

"Screamarooooooo," they had howled. 

A regular chill ran through Weissme. He had not caught this detail from Majgen's mind either. Probably because she had not heard it clearly herself. From Yang's mind he learned they had only howled it when she screamed particularly loud and long.

'She could not have heard it clearly.'

Ottearon Weissme felt a strong desire to move his hands from Student Yang's ears, down to his throat, and squeeze his trachea shut. He was already keeping the student in a sedated state for easier scanning. Weissme was only sixty years old, his hands were more than strong enough for the job. He could even make Student Yang experience the girl's memories while doing it.

Ottearon Antwoine Weissme left Student Yang Kol's mind a moment, to regain composure.

'Exemplary student, apt pupil, never a mark in your record Yang, I remember teachers mentioning you. Commenting how sad it is, that one so intelligent and skilled does not have empathic potential to ever reach Femaron rank. How could you do this? How could you not realize what you were doing? How can you still not realize what you did?' Weissme wondered.

He needed to know. Not just for his own sake. Not just to get an understanding for himself of the horrors he seen in Majgen's and Yang's memories. He needed to know to decide how to handle the aftermath of the incident. Ottearon Antwoine Weissme was a highly skilled and experienced mentarion, he soon regained control of his own emotions. Once again his mind was sufficiently clear to perform further investigation.

Re-entering Student Yang's mind, Weissme began analyzing the nature of the visual distortion in Yang memories. In less than ten minutes, the Ottearon came to a conclusion.

'The distortions are as old as the memories themselves.'

Student Yang's visual perception had been distorted emotionally at the time of the violence. The distortions had not been added afterwards, as would have been typical for a first time violent offender.

'Simultaneous distortion of visual interpretation, in an individual not influenced by euphoriant drugs of any kind,' Weissme thought, 'a very clear indicator of hypnosis. Not an indicator of released primal rage, caused by another mentarions uncontrolled emanations.' 

Weissme was relieved to suspect the incident had been will-fully caused - by someone with criminal intent. The implications of an abuse of this magnitude, if caused by an untrained mentarion's subconscious emanations reaching sober adult students, would be far harder for the mentarion society to handle than one or more mentarion criminals.

'But who hypnotized you Yang? and when?' Weissme thought to himself. He knew how to pinpoint the time when hypnosis kicked in fast and easily. 'After that it will be easier to analyze how the hypnosis has been planted.'

For Ottearon Weissme a complex conspiracy theory was easier to believe than any other explanation he could imagine. In the years to come, as he learned more of Majgen's special abilities, Weissme would many times ponder on the irony: The conspiracy theory, he had that moment, was the one of his theories which was furthest from the truth, yet it was the one that finally pointed him towards the truth.

The easiest way to pinpoint at which time Student Yang entered hypnosis, was to find out when his perception became distorted. Weissme swiftly skipped back and forth in Yang's memories.

'Entering room, not distorted. First violence, distorted. Sat down for first dish, distorted. Greeted a group of students, not distorted.' Weissme counted his findings to himself, as he narrowed the possible time span down. It did not take long to find the exact moment.

#

Yang stayed with the first group of students a bit, trying to understand the bad spirit of the party.

'A servant can't possibly be the only cause for this,' he thought.

Yang knew the others weren't lying. However, they used very few words in their descriptions; when using so few words there was ample room to leave out information - without lying. As glum as they were, they wouldn't even have needed to think of withholding things, to give an inaccurate description.

Student Yang Kol noticed the servant offering cookies to students in the other end of the room. He couldn't avoid noticing her; the students around him sent long menacing glares in her direction.

'I Can't see anything unusual about her,' Yang thought, 'Typical servant, this one female, typical female servant uniform.' Yang studied her a moment, trying to understand what bothered the others. 'A bit short, even for a woman, but that's not really a problem. The ones she offers the tray, they are acting a bit strange though.'

The students completely ignored the servant, not waving her off, nor taking any treats. Servants were always told to exert the strictest form of traditional serving etiquette, at mentarion gatherings. This, amongst other things, meant that when she presented a tray, she was supposed to hold it in position until she was waved off, or a treat was taken, or thirty seconds had passed, whichever happened first. Since no student acknowledged her presence, that etiquette made her movement around the room very slow.

After a while Yang moved from the first group of students. They weren't really talking, he was hoping another group could give him an explanation, or maybe even present a slightly more cheerful mood. In the meantime the girl had just completed holding her tray for thirty seconds to each student in one group, and moved on to a single student who was staring at a decoration. Staring so intently it was obvious he was not looking at it.

Yang passed the two just as the servant raised the tray to the staring student. Yang took two more steps then stopped dead in his track. An emotion grew in him as if he had just smelled something vile and rotten. Inconspicuously, Yang changed direction - as if studying the decoration he had just passed. He circled the decoration till he reached a spot where he could look at the serving girl - while pretending to study the decoration. 

#

'His visual perception was not distorted when he left the first group, but it was distorted when he stopped in his tracks,' Weissme noted to himself. The distortion was very evident, in Yang's memory of looking at the girl across the decoration.

#

What his eyes saw was a nervous and already at this time scared thirteen year old girl. What his mind perceived was a provocative whore, showing of her physical attributes as much as she could while still wearing clothes.

In reality the girl's skirt draped below her knees, even though it was designed to stop a distance above them on a woman. Majgen was too short for the design. She was not fully grown yet, and even for her age she was a short girl. In Yang's mind the servant uniform skirt had been altered to barely cover her ass.

A cold rage rose in Yang. He felt a strong indignation towards the whore who desecrated honoured mentarion traditions by appearing at a mentarion celebration in that outfit.

#

Over and over, Ottearon Weissme went through the short time-span, where Student Yang approached and passed Majgen till he stopped in his tracks with a rising volatile emotion. He analysed, again and again, the train of semiconscious and subconscious emotions leading to the conscious emotion. Weissme had the skill to conclude with certainty already after the second analysis, but he did not want to believe the result. In the end he had to. There was no doubt.

'Oh no, not this,' Weissme thought, even though he wasn't sure why his conclusion scared him, 'Self-hypnosis.'

Everything fit, he had used every technique possible to see any indicators for something else, yet all he had found was more evidence for self-hypnosis. In Yang's case the causality was irrevocable. Majgen's subconscious emanations had awoken a primal rage response in Yang's mind, but instead of being released fully the primal rage had forced the male student into an auto-hypnotic state.

'Is this what happened to all of them?' the Ottearon asked himself as he let go of Student Yang's body and mind.

----=(Ottearon Weissme the politician and the thinker)=----

From the book: Residues of instinct in the modern human: "The sub-conscious emotional logical processes of a sentient mind is able to process information from the surroundings much swifter and come to conclusions much faster than fully conscious logical processes. The actual conclusions of the sub-conscious processes are delivered to the semi-conscious mind, where they mostly remain a while, awaiting time for the conscious to analyse information. However, sometimes when conclusions embedded in the semi-conscious mind gives rise to a sub- or semi-consciously founded course of action, that course of action will rise to the conscious mind embedded in a feeling that this course of action will be the right. These processes are the basis for intelligent instinct."

Now that Weissme knew what to look for, it would not take long to check every student for signs of self-hypnosis. However he was short on time, he felt the incident had to be hushed quite a bit; dampened.

Ottearon Weissme moved back to Majgen, he needed to know when she would be missed, and by who. He needed to buy more time, before someone came searching for her. During his last quick scan of her, he had only looked into recent memories, he had not looked for details of her background.

'Poor child,' Ottearon thought to himself after his second scan of her. He allowed himself just a few seconds pity for the girl, 'Missed would be too strong a word. You know of no one, who loves you. No loved ones would come to comfort you at the hospital. And now I will make sure that not even your employer will come to see you - to pretend to care.' Weissme allowed himself less than a full seconds guilt for that. He was an Ottearon, and he was leader of The Mentariata. To him, duty came first. He walked to the kitchen to make some sensitive phone-calls in private, to buy time.

The girls employer was the first to be smeared, he was not in governmental employ there were plenty of legal ways to bribe him off. What Weissme had learned of the man, from the girl's memories of him, gave him good reason to believe it would not be hard to persuade him to not think of where his youth-worker was - in the near future. Of course since the girl did not know she was a mentarion, she had never looked into her employers mind. So nothing was certain, only very likely.

Weissme was experienced in politics, traversed in the world of public opinion and power. He knew just about every dirty trick in the book, although he hardly ever used them. Apart from buying time he arranged for a few distractions, to keep possible future media-attention from this specific 'ranked-it-up'-celebration.

It was unpleasant that the distractions would have to be of the sort to have negative impact on his schools prestige, but those were the only kinds of distractions that could have a sufficiently strong effect. Ottearon Weissme was an efficient man, also a foreseeing man, he didn't need much time to contact people he could trust to perform the tasks he had in mind.

After the last call, Weissme put his communicator away, and went back to the party room. It was time to find out exactly what it was - he was covering up. He walked to the herd of male students and pointed at a random one, not bothering to notice which one.

When the student stood in front of him, Weissme lifted his own hands to hold them against the young mans ears, in the traditional manner for a scan. Now, he couldn't avoid noticing which one it was, the Ottearon knew his name from both Majgen's and Yang's minds:

'I am first ranked Student Korbin Letter, repeat it after me, whore! First ranked Student Korbin Letter!'

The identifying sentence spoke itself in Weissme's mind, with Korbin's voice, as remembered by both Majgen and Yang. 

'Yes indeed, that is who you are, Student,' Ottearon Weissme thought to himself, 'and I don't think the girl will ever forget it again. If I find in your mind, that you were not as helplessly caught as Student Yang, then I will make sure you become very sorry that you are first ranked Student Korbin Letter.' The Ottearon had a strong mind shield up. Nobody could sense Weissme's thoughts and contemplations other than himself, yet uttering the unspoken threat in his own mind made it easier for him get past his own emotions - and focus.

Student Korbin had been as helpless as Student Yang, the time it had taken from Korbin's first direct exposure to Majgen's emanations till he entered a self-hypnotic state was shorter than the time Ottearon Weissme thought it would have taken Korbin to pronounce verbally the full causality he had found in Korbin's and Yang's minds. 

'Not even I could pronounce it faster than it happened to Korbin,' Ottearon Weissme thought, 'Not even if I only spoke the chain of each cause and effect in it's theoretic simplified form - as stated different places in basic teaching books for younger mentarions.'

He sent Student Korbin back to the herd.

The Ottearon's emotions were trying to leave his control again. It had been many years since he had last needed to act as cynically as today, he realized the calm years had made him softer, had made it harder for him to push his humanity away. It had become harder for him to ignore the guilt over the actions he felt he had to do. 

In his life, Weissme had seen many horrible things in the minds of humans. His professional ability to distance himself from what he saw in other people's memories - had not had time to rust. However, years had passed since he had last seen something as unexpected and so hard for him to comprehend as this incident.

Trying to figure out what had caused the abuse of Majgen, while also trying to figure out how to partially conceal the incident had been hard for him in itself. Having to deal with the extra weight of unaccustomed feelings of guilt, on top of the other two worries, made him feel old.

He had not yet figured out how he knew that it was important to conceal the incident. His decision had been based on semiconscious emotional processes, he was aware of that. To figure out why he felt it was the right thing to do, he would have to pause to access and analyze his own semiconscious thoughts. If he did that then time might run out and his opportunity to cover up could be gone.

After many years of experience with advanced politics, Weissme knew that his political 'intelligent instinct' was more often right than wrong, and he had a very strong feeling that this incident had to be hushed.

Ottearon Weissme felt strained, he had to take a moment to calm his thoughts and feelings. To calm himself, Weissme chose to focus on the scientific aspects of the days incident. Thinking scientifically would often give his logical processes so dominant a position in his mind, that emotional processes were pushed aside.

He truly needed a break from his own emotions.

With the aid of his photographic memory, Weissme could have recited full advanced texts to himself.

'I won't need to dwell that intensely on the science of the matter, to calm myself.'

The irony of his comparison between the time it would take to pronounce the causality of what had happened to Student Korbin's mind, and the actual time it had taken for the causality to run its course, struck Weissme again.

'I'll recite a simplified version of the causality, quotes from basic teaching books should have an extra calming effect.'

In his thoughts, Weissme recited an excerpt from an old teaching book, still used on his school - Importance of Awareness.

'A strong empath's subconscious emanations can in extreme cases affect another empath's subconscious emotions in a manner that can evoke a primal rage response, if the affected empath does not take active measures against it.'

He continued with an excerpt from another book - Residues of instinct in the modern human.

'An uncontrolled primal rage response usually results in an outburst of senseless rage, but under special circumstances primal rage can instead result in entry to a self-hypnotic state.'

Finally he quoted the book: Trauma Induced Effects, And How To Avoid Them.

'While in a self-hypnotic state the emotional and logical processes of the inflicted person inverts. Pseudo-logical emotional interpretation of the surroundings becomes fully conscious, and the normal logical processes becomes semi-conscious....A further effect of the inverted processes in a self-hypnotic state is that the emotionally unwanted logical conclusions will be pushed into full sub-consciousness by the afflicted person.' Weissme frowned.

'There is something missing. Something essential,' he thought to himself. These quotes didn't explain the unrest he felt within himself. However, the process of reciting had worked as intended; Weissme felt calm - not strongly emotional.

While Ottearon Antwoine Weissme had been thinking. All others had been still. He had only taken a five minute time-out from his duties. But even if he had taken hours all would have remained still. He outranked them all by far, none would have dared ask him why they were waiting. If Majgen had been conscious she would not have known enough of mentarion ways to remain quiet, but she was still being mentally sedated by Mentariata personnel.




Majgen Ch. 007



Planning to pick another one for mind scan, the Ottearon turned his attention back to the flock of male students.

Now that his own emotions were calm, he sensed them all clearly again. Their general mix of emotions was very similar to what it had been earlier. Some of those who had been most fearful, when he first took time to sense the crowd, were now more at terms with their fear. Some of those who had been very confident earlier, had now begun fearing they might get punished after all.

'This long after the girl's effect on them has ceased, they still don't feel guilt or shame for what has happened,' Weissme noted to himself. He allowed himself the luxury of a sigh, and rose his arm to point at another random young man.

His arm froze mid air as suddenly the book quotes, the ones which his semi-conscious had tried to tell him were missing, came to him:

'One symptom that makes self-hypnosis so hard to diagnoze for non-empaths is that the subject is usually unaware: he has been experiencing an altered mental state. The conclusions which were produced at the wrong level of consciousness (full, semi or sub), while the subject was under self hypnosis, will often remain at the wrong level of consciousness - even after the processes which caused them reverts to their proper level of consciousness...' he recited from - Trauma Induced Effects And How To Avoid Them.

'...Hence once a conclusion is made after a full logical process in the conscious mind, and a logical course of action is set, the process has become disinteresting to the primitive mechanics of the mind. Therefore when logical processes was made while the primitive mind was in effect, the person will no longer feel any need to review the process, to him it will seem that the course of action retained the full information for its own justification...' he recited from: Residues of Instinct in the Modern Human.

These quotes made the thought, which had been nagging Weissme, conscious. The thought behind the 'intellectual instinct', which had warned him to begin a cover up.

'My 'instinct' was off the mark, it underestimated the severity of this situation,' for a second Weissme forgot to breathe. 'They still don't realize, that their feelings of anger and despise were not their own. They don't realize they were somehow hypnotized by the teenager's emotional conflicts. Oh Evil grief! If it becomes public knowledge that so high-ranked students can be pushed into letting their sub-conscious take over so easily...' He dared not finish the thought right then, not even to himself.

Ottearon Weissme did not pick a third student, instead he lowered his arm and went straight to the kitchen. Leaving all to stand still and wait again.

'There is no time for further scans,' he thought, 'the distractions I've set in motion to keep the media off this story will not suffice at all. I need to create a bigger media scandal than the mentarion society has been exposed to in over two hundred years. This must remain hidden.'

He knew exactly how to create an immense scandal, he did not let himself feel guilt over the harm that would have to come to innocents. There would be plenty time for guilt when the mentarion ways were safe again.

----=(What Weissme realized)=----

If twenty-three drunk and drug-affected male Rank 1 students had assaulted a woman, in a drug-induced rage. the initial harm to goodwill against mentarions could have been rectified. 

If a female student had been sufficiently stupid to break the rules and attend a male ranked-it-up party, and if such a student had been sufficiently reckless to do this while being in a self-destructive mood, and If drug-affected Rank 1 male students had assaulted such a female student - then the respect for mentarions could be maintained by moving the public focus towards the strict rules, that normally prevented that sort of incidents. Such a situation could even have been turned to strengthen the general respect for the mentarions' willingness to abide to such strict guidelines.

That day however, twenty-three Rank 1 students, only one rank from graduation, had been affected by a young teen girl's subconscious emanations. They had not just let themselves be affected, they had been completely unaware of being affected. Even afterwards they had been unable to realize, unassisted, that they had been affected.

Weissme knew as well as any other mentarion in a position of power, that the reverence the majority of humans felt towards mentarions in general was based on several aspects of popular beliefs and myths. Especially those that implied, mentarions were truly wiser in matters of the mind. Some examples of this mix of myths and believes were: 

- The strict training mentarions was submitted to under their education, starting at childhood, gave most of them the ability to surpass subconscious effects.

- Mentarions had more self control than other humans.

- Mentarions were more reliable than others.

Mentarions, weaker empaths, and any non-empath who had direct knowledge of mentarions, those all knew that the first statement was merely a well-established myth. If the full truth, behind the incident Ottearon Weissme had seen in Majgen's memories became public, then the that myth would be directly disproved to the general public.

Such a sudden elimination of a well-established, albeit false, belief - could lead to widespread dispute of the general mythology of mentarions. This again could lead to distrust from a public who would feel they had been manipulated and lied to. These possibilities, the disruptions such media-debates would cause, the time and effort that would be needed to regain political stability - were terrifying to a man in Ottearon Weissme's position. However, disproval of that myth, and the following consequences, was not the possible aftermath of the incident which Ottearon Weissme feared most.

Weissme knew, as well as any empath, that in the first centuries after the existence of empaths had become fact, non-empaths were in charge of utilising the - back then - new resource. In those days the reliability of each empath had been verified by drug induced hypnosis rather than by other empaths.

The concept of letting one empath test another empath's reliability was not practised in the first two centuries of empathic history. This was caused by fears in the non-empathic population, fears that a strong empath could control a weaker empath. That a stronger empath could make a weaker empath believe whatever he wanted.

It had taken hundreds of years to convince the general public to believe the two fundamental statements of mentarion self-awareness:

The first: That even though a well-trained empath could be temporarily mind-controlled by a stronger well-trained empath, the effect would dissipate as soon as the weaker empath was out of range of the stronger, or as soon as the stronger had drained his own mental stamina with the effort.

The second: After having been controlled empathically, an empath would know he had been controlled. He would be able to inform authorities of the occurrence.

Ottearon Weissme not only believed these two statements himself, he also knew of their importance in a historical context, and he understood the possible consequences for mentarion rights if people in general should loose faith in the two basic statements. No unreliable mentarion was ever allowed to walk unsupervised amongst non-empaths, not unless he had been deprived of all empathic abilities by drugs.

In this incident twenty-three first ranked Students had been indirectly controlled by the subconscious mind of one untrained mentarion, who was barely more than a child. After being removed from her emanations, the students had not realized on their own accord that they had been under the effect of her emanations.

Ottearon Weissme knew it would be hard to explain the full truth of how this incident had happened to other mentarions. It had been hard for him to fully comprehend it himself, even with full access to the minds of all who were present. If the non-empathic majority got the full story of this incident, including the students' failure to see they had been influenced subconsciously. Then it would be impossible to retain the general public's faith in the two Fundamental Statements of Mentarion Self-Awareness.

The public might come to believe that a mentarion could truly fool trained mentarions. If that happened, all mentarions would be considered unreliable. The current system would crumble, and mentarions might be forced to live a completely non-empathic life through forced drug administration. Or might once again be abused as drug controlled slaves like they had been eleven centuries ago.

*

Copyright of Nanna Marker (Lit ID ellynei)

My sincere apologies for the continued lack of editing and proofreading. I am trying to find a proper balance between my normal self-editing, writing of new stuff, working on learning more, and re-editing already submitted chapters. I will continue to try, but can't promise new submissions will see editorial proofreading, prior to submission, any time soon.

-

Hi there (*elly waves*)

If you read this please post a public comment saying if you read any of the other Majgen chapters as well as this? 



Majgen Ch. 008



----=(A child named Ukrial)=----

The cosy little cafe was placed in a spring green nature park. The cafe was surrounded by a grass lawn area. Large trees grew naturally at various spots. The lighting was sufficiently bright to give full natural growth to the living greenery of the park. The sky-blue coloured ceiling was approximately three building floors above the park visitors. Most of the recreational areas in mining habitat Drom were based on designs including natural growth.

The borders of the open café were defined by colourful flower beds, broken up by many small paths. These small paths made it possible to enter or leave the café in any direction. 

While passing the flower beds to the cafe, Baglian noticed a woman with red hair, and immediately found her attractive. He also noticed a special glint in her eyes, when she saw him. A glint, he had learned to recognise swiftly when women showed it. A little tell-tale sign that her prolonged glance at him was not simply surprise to see a mentarion in person. He pretended not to notice her, while planning how to approach her.

By turning to Majgen, Baglian inconspicuously slowed his travel into the café.

"You will most likely enjoy the iced Mokka Fluffer," Baglian said. He had previously told her she should try one of those.

'He is perfectly aware he already told me this,' Majgen perceived, 'He is only repeating it now to give the woman with rose-red hair an opportunity to eye him further. To let her preliminary interest get time to grow to a preliminary attraction.'

Majgen made no sign of this knowledge though. Instead she replied to his remark in a properly humble manner - as appropriate for a student talking to her mentor. Baglian chose an approach to the woman even sooner than Majgen finished her sentence. Majgen disliked being drawn into Baglian's game of seduction, even in this indirect manner. 

'He intends to follow through with the seduction this time,' Majgen perceived.

She did not look forward to seeing the full version of his game. During the eight days she had spent with him, she had learned far too much of his scoring-techniques. Even though he had not engaged in serious attempts to reel in opportunities for sex.

Still pretending to not notice the red-haired woman with the light-brown yellow spotted eyes and intricately decorated nails, Baglian chose a path around the seated café guests that would lead them right by her. He walked slowly, a walking speed that could only appear to be a natural pace combined with mentarion dignity. He even passed the woman of interest. 

Stopping just after her table, Baglian turned around to look at the woman as if he had almost forgotten something.

"I must say, that is a beautiful blouse you are wearing. Is that genuine tailor design?" he asked the redhead.

"Oh," she replied, looking down at herself a second, pretending she had forgotten what she was wearing, before turning her eyes back to the mentarion, "This old rag? No it's not tailor design."

"That is no rag," Baglian stated, "You do not appear as a woman who would ever wear rags. Although, I am sure, you could make even rags look good." The Femaron made sure not to give the woman time to deny the plausibility of his compliments. Mostly, compliments were more efficient if a woman was denied the chance to rip them apart.

"Is that Minka-wine you are drinking?" he inquired, although he already knew it was.

"Yes. It is." 

"But, no bowl of blueberries on the side?" Baglian leaned his head a bit to the side, as if truly wondering why there were no blueberries on the table.

'Femaron Baglian has no particular liking for blueberries, not even with Minka-wine,' Majgen perceived, 'He only asked because he read her mind, and saw her regret for not ordering blueberries on the side.' In spite of this knowledge, she kept a straight face.

'It's not hard to imagine how he would react if I ruined his game,' Majgen thought.

"No. I didn't order blueberries, I guess I should have." The Red-head smiled at Baglian in a welcoming manner.

"Would you allow me to rectify that mistake?" Baglian asked returning her smile.

"I couldn't ask such a favour of a man, whose name I don't even know yet."

"Allow me to introduce myself then. I am Femaron Hiro Baglian." Baglian gave the woman a formal mentarion bow. Such formalities were not required when interacting with people who were not mentarion, but non-empathic women were usually impressed by such formal mentarion gestures; Baglian often took advantage of that.

"My name is Lenlen Brork," she said and reached her hand out to him, in a normal non-empathic greeting, "You may call me Lenlen, if you like."

Baglian took her hand.

"You may call me Hiro, if you like." He smiled at Lenlen before he let go of her hand and turned to Majgen.

"Go buy two iced Mokka Fluffers, and don't forget a bowl of blueberries for the enchanting Lenlen, Student Majgen," he instructed.

Obediently, Majgen bowed and went to the counter. Baglian had supplied his student with micro-coins, so she could fetch food and drink at his command. Micro-coins were only accepted by few vendors in super-cities, but were a common form of currency in smaller habitats like Drom.

Baglian sat down to entertain and entice Lenlen further, while Majgen was away. Baglian scanned the woman's mind extensively, while making her laugh with clever words and not very subtle - yet very close to honest - compliments. He made sure to never quite reveal that he was reading her mind, but also made sure to never quite imply that he wasn't either.

Making sure not to interrupt Baglian and Lenlen's conversation, Majgen placed Baglian's Fluffer and the blueberry bowl on their table, and moved out of their way. She placed herself at a vacant table less than two metres from them.

'Baglian won't require my attention for quite a while,' Majgen concluded from his emanations, and began reading the minds of nearby park visitors.

Majgen had no desire to listen in on Baglian and Lenlen's conversation, and would absolutely prefer to avoid gaining understanding of Baglian's motives for every single part of it.

'I wish he would let me use thought-techniques for situations like this,' Majgen thought, trivial thinking would have made it easy for her to ignore his emanations.

She had no intentions of doing it without his permission though; her body was covered with sore spots, reminding her not to do that. The bruise on her cheek, currently hidden behind skin coloured make-up, no longer hurt, but Femaron Baglian had given her several newer reminders.

'He does encourage me to scan the minds of people around me though,' Majgen thought, she hoped it would suffice to drown the input from Baglian's emanations.

The man closest to her was envious at Baglian's probable success with the Red-head; Majgen swiftly moved her mental attention from him to another. A woman a bit to Majgen's other side was eating cookies while drinking a coca-based beverage, which Majgen was not familiar with. The taste experiences were tantalising to Majgen. Pretending to be lost in thought, she put her own drink on her table and looked out at the lawn, while focusing on the woman's taste sensations. Baglian had instructed her on ways to appear to not be performing mind scans; Majgen had not previously been suitably educated in this area of the mentarion ways.

Scanning non-empaths was easier than scanning empaths; it was nearly impossible to cause a non-empath discomfort by clumsy entry. Non-empaths didn't have the empathic sensory connections in the brain that empaths did.

Majgen scanned people passing her too, sampling the tops of their minds. She had a strong desire to understand other people. She hoped that if she understood others better, she could understand herself better too.

It was hard for her to refrain from smiling when two children, girls headed for the counter to buy chocolate cakes, passed behind her. They were laughing and talking about chocolate. The one whose mind she scanned was already rejoicing with anticipation of the taste. A few moments later they passed her again to leave the cafe, and Majgen scanned the other one. In spite of Baglian's instructions, she frowned when she sensed the feelings of the second girl.

'Something is wrong,' Majgen thought, 'Something is very wrong.'

When the little girl left Majgen's sensing range, which was only about ten metres when scanning non-empaths, Majgen was still not sure what was amiss. The girl looked cheerful, and the top of her mind seemed cheerful too, yet Majgen had a strong impression the girl was not as cheerful as she should have been.

No longer considering whether she appeared inconspicuous or not, Majgen got up and followed the girls. The two children paused to open their chocolate, and Majgen got within scanning range the moment she crossed the boundaries of the café. She didn't really consider asking Baglian's permission to go; the troubled girl was only about ten, and had awoken the protective side of Majgen's personality.

The girls started walking again and Majgen followed at their exact pace, she dove too deeply into the one's mind to notice anything else.

The scenery of the park around the café seemed beautiful to most of its occupants, but Baglian was not interested in the beauty around him, only in the beauty right in front of him. From scanning Lenlen's mind Baglian knew she was a middle-aged woman. A bit younger than him, but old enough to have all the sexual benefits of a mature woman. Occupied with scanning and seducing Lenlen, he didn't notice Majgen had left.

About fifty metres from the café the genuinely happy of the two little girls glanced back and noticed Majgen. The girl stopped in her track and turned to gawk at the mind reader. Absorbed with thinking of chocolate, she had not noticed the mentarions at the cafe. In that effect, this was the first time she ever saw a real life mentarion.

When one girl stopped and turned, so did the other - the one Majgen was scanning. The troubled girl had not noticed Majgen and Baglian at the café either, and she too recognised the cut of Majgen's mentarion uniform.

The troubled girl dropped her cookie at the shock of seeing a mind reader.

'No. No. No. No...' the girl thought to herself over and over as feelings of guilt and shame rushed through her.

Majgen had understood what was amiss with the little girl, sooner than the two girls noticed her.

"It's not your fault," Majgen said, and repeated "It's not your fault."

She knelt to be closer to the child's eye-level, and reached out to hold the child gently by her shoulders. Her heart bled with compassion for the little soul in front of her.

"Trust me, I'm a mentarion, I have seen it in your mind, and it's not your fault."

Majgen looked directly into the girls eyes when speaking these words. Water had rushed to the girl's eyes when she saw a mind reader. Majgen's words made the tears break free. Majgen's eyes had been swelling too, as a mentarion she was meant to keep a certain distance, but she couldn't; her own tears ran when the girl's did.

"Please believe me child. It's not your fault." Majgen's voice was cracking with emotion.

"I..." The girl sobbed. "I didn't mean to," she spurted out, and her sobs became heavy.

Majgen pulled her into a protective hug.

"You did nothing wrong." Majgen rocked the standing child gently in her hug. "It wasn't your fault, and it isn't your fault. Hush child."

Empathically Majgen transmitted her feelings of love and care to the child. She had not learned to mind-sedate, but she knew that for empaths feeling love and care from another person was comforting, and assumed the same would be the case for the non-empathic child.

Upon receiving Majgen's emotions, the child raised her arms and hugged back. The little girl had never been exposed to empathic transmissions before, but she understood the emotions came from the mentarion.

"I thought everyone would hate me," the girl cried into Majgen's shoulders.

"You were wrong," Majgen sobbed back. For some moments they cried together, while the tormented girl's friend gawked at them.

"He is gonna be very angry at me, because you found out," the crying child said.

Majgen had a strong urge to show her own opinion of 'him' to the child.

'She is only ten, Femaron Baglian would never do it, and I am not allowed to perform invasive therapy at all,' Majgen thought, 'Femaron Baglian will torture me if I do it.'

For a moment Majgen almost shuddered with fear, but then the child's crying made her forget herself.

'Baglian can do what he wants to me, but he will not try to undo whatever I do for this child now, not if the child is better for it.'

"I want to show you something," Majgen said, "a mentarion thing, something you should know."

Majgen's transmissions of loving emotions had calmed the child. The little girl was still crying, but was able to listen.

"It is important you understand this thing, which I can only show you in a mentarion way," Majgen continued softly, "May I show you?"

The child remained still, but her emotions gave the answer. The reply was affirmative.

'Look.' Majgen opened her mind fully to the child. 'See what I see,' Majgen thought, and let the child see, Majgen had the child see, what she had seen in her memories, but Majgen let her see it from her view, not from the child's. Majgen did not know, why she herself knew that she was doing the right thing - she just knew.

"I don't want to see that," the child protested, but her mind cried to understand.

Majgen complied with the child's emotions rather than her words, and kept transmitting her own memory of the child's memory. After a few seconds, the child's sobbing ceased as she finally allowed herself to see what Majgen was showing.

"I see a bad man," the child said, with a voice too adult for her age.

The little girl accepted what she saw, and understanding it was true she started crying again. Majgen withdrew the memory, and once again transmitted only the emotions of love she felt for the child, who wept hard and clung to her.

"He is a bad man," the girl cried with a child's desperation at loosing an illusion.

'I'm sorry child, I had to show you. It was the only way to prevent memories of him from haunting you for the rest of your life,' Majgen thought.

The young mentarion didn't transmit the apology, for having hurt - to heal.

'I'm so sorry.'

Spectator's gathered, keeping a polite distance to the mentarion and the two children, but staring nonetheless. Majgen ignored them, she focused fully on comforting the emotionally wounded child.

Suddenly realising his student was no longer behind him, Baglian strained his empathic senses for any trace of her emanations, with no success. He rose, and scouted in all directions, not bothering to excuse himself to the attractive Lenlen. He noticed several people staring in one direction, following their gaze Baglian spotted the black of Majgen's rank 10 uniform against the green of grass.

Baglian started walking to his student, he kept a dignified pace, although he was prepared to break into a run if the need should arise. When he had covered half the distance, he could see why his student was kneeling.

'She is hugging a child, both of them appear to be crying,' Baglian noted, he also saw a woman running towards Majgen and the child.

"Ukrial," the woman yelled.

Baglian assumed it was the child's name. He increased his speed to be close before the woman reached his student. Silently, Baglian cursed at himself for not having noticed his student sneaking off.

The woman stopped a bit less than two metres from Majgen and the child. Baglian was within hearing range, when the breathless woman talked.

"Ukrial, come to mummy. Sweetheart, come to mummy."

In response to those words, the child hugged Majgen, and kept her back to her mother. Majgen's back was to Baglian, she could sense him, but she wasn't paying heed to his presence at all. Holding onto the child, Majgen lifted her face to look directly at Ukrial's mother.

"You knew," Majgen stated. The child had known her mother knew, hence Majgen knew too.

Baglian was astounded by the undertone of hate in Majgen's voice and the fury in her emanations.

'Haven't seen this side of my student before,' Baglian thought, while the child's mother tried to reason with Majgen.

"That's my daughter, let go of my daughter," the woman said, unable to put command into her voice.

'There is something very feeble about the way that woman speaks,' Baglian noted.

The Femaron came close enough to look into Majgen's mind, and ignored the mother a moment, to scan the top of Majgen's mind. He caught on to the basic scenario from his student's mind.

'Sexually molested child. The father did it, the mother knew,' Baglian clinically listed to himself. Unlike Majgen, he was able to keep a professional distance.

"Petro!" the mother screamed in panic, when she saw the Femaron, "Petro come here!"

The rank 10 student uniform colours, which Majgen wore, had seemed absurd to the woman. Tenth ranked mentarion uniforms was something worn by mentarion children, not young adults. The mother had instilled false hopes in herself, had made herself believe that maybe the young woman was not a mentarion. Seeing a man wearing the ghastly Femaron-uniform shattered the mothers false hopes.

"Petro." Her voice cracked hard this time, what came out sounded more like a shriek than a name.

Keeping her hands on the child's shoulders, Majgen rose to her feet but allowed the child to hang on to her legs. Three adults were running towards them from the direction the mother kept glancing towards, the angry mentarion student furiously eyed the runners.

"Control your rage, Student Majgen," Baglian ordered, while retrieving a communicator from an inner sleeve, wrist pocket.

"Salt three-hundred solar twenty call GED Drom," Baglian spoke to the communicator, in one sweep voice-activating the device and instructing it to call law enforcement authorities, while he moved it to his ear. 

"GED here, how may I help." a female voice said, to his ear.

"Track my identity and location through this communicator," Baglian ordered tonelessly, "This is a mentarion report of a past crime. I request GED units to arrest two suspects, who are present, at my current location."

The three runners arrived out of breath. Two of them rushed to Ukrial's friend, and lifted her up. Their relief to find their own child safe and sound was evident. The third adult was Ukrial's father; he stopped one metre short of Majgen. He panted heavily, while viewing what he considered a horrifying sight - two mentarions with his ten year old daughter.

"Step back, Sir," Baglian ordered in a firm, commanding tone, while keeping the communicator at his ear.

"Gimme..my...daughter," the man counter-ordered between gasps for air.

"Step away from my student and the child, or I will sedate you, Sir." Baglian made sure to express himself very specifically while instructing the suspect, to make the situation more clear to the GED on his communication line.

"Ukrial...come...to...daddy," the man gasped on, ignoring Baglian.

Instead of obeying her father, the child took a harder hold on Majgen's legs. Majgen's understanding of the girl's memories had taught the little girl that she owed no allegiance to that man.

"Last warning, Sir," Baglian stated.

The finality in the Femaron's voice and words convinced the man to back away some paces, but the man continued calling to his daughter.

"Ukrial Sweetheart...it's me...Daddy."




Majgen Ch. 008



His words caused the child to begin shaking and tightening her grip on Majgen's legs so hard, that the child's muscles began to acid up. Baglian noticed Majgen's rage rising even higher, as she felt the child's distress.

"Control yourself, Student Majgen, or I will sedate you," Baglian stated still speaking with a professionally toneless voice.

Majgen did her best to comply; she wanted to help the child, not to make matters worse by loosing her self-control.

"Units are on their way, Femaron," the female voice said through Baglian's communicator, after Baglian had been quiet a few seconds. The call taking GED employee had already found and verified his identity.

"Can you tell me more about the situation?"

"Not right now," Baglian replied, he suspected an explanation might cause the suspects to fight or flee. The Call-taker remained quiet on her end, listening intently for anything that could increase her insight of the situation.

The father kept trying to call his daughter to him. Baglian scanned the top of the male suspects mind.

'He still believes it will make a difference if the child listens to him,' Baglian saw.

The mother was absolutely quiet, and absolutely still. She seemed to be staring at nothing. Baglian looked quickly into the woman's mind, and found she was trying to convince herself that she was innocent. Even with such a brief scan he could clearly see, she wasn't. She had known all along.

"Lift up the child, Student," Femaron Baglian ordered.

Majgen did as she was told. Holding the child tight, while staring at the offending parents. The amount of spectators had grown to a crowd. Baglian was annoyed to see visual recorders in several hands. He didn't want his student to become a public figure, at this time. Tears were still streaming down her face.

'Mentarion tears added to a story of pedophiliac incest will make those visual recordings travel far beyond Drom,' Baglian thought.

Baglian sedated the child in Majgen's arm fully, sending her into a hypnotic dreamless sleep, sparing her from hearing more of her father's hypocritical sweet talking. When the father saw his daughter's body go completely limp, he realised she was being mind-sedated.

"I didn't give permission for my child to be mind-sedated," the man complained.

"I don't need parental permission to sedate a minor in a situation of crisis, to lessen the risk of post-traumatic effects, Sir," Baglian informed the ignorant pedophile hypocrite.

"I am her father, I decide when she is in crisis or not!"

Baglian ignored that comment. He had to keep track of three adult players at once, to act instantly if any of them should suddenly decide to do something stupid. Three adults to watch closely, while also keeping the child sedated.

The first; a father who might do something really stupid, once he realised he was completely found out. The second; a mother who might suddenly realise she was facing nearly the same penalty for having done nothing in spite of her knowledge. And lastly; his student, whose emanations were boiling with such intense fury, he was having slight worries that she might enter a primal rage.

"I am going to take the communicator from my ear to have both hands free," Baglian informed the GED Call-taker, and put the communicator back in his sleeve pocket, microphone end pointing out so the call taker would still be able to hear.

Baglian took the sedated child from Majgen, shortly thereafter the siren from the first GED-unit could be heard. It consisted of a single officer. Travelling on the ground on a one man scooter. The fastest unit for travelling amongst pedestrians.

"Student Majgen go to my apartment," Baglian ordered.

For nearly two seconds Majgen just looked at him; she did not want to leave. She would have disobeyed if it could do the child any good, but the understanding that such disobedience would only complicate the situation swiftly came to her. Hence Majgen chose to bow to Baglian and leave the scene.

In the eight days since she had become Baglian's personal student, he had not allowed her to move in public alone. In reality, it had been five years since Majgen had last been walking in public alone. The Mentariata had only rarely allowed her off Mentariata grounds, and then always under supervision by others. Yet, Majgen did not feel insecure walking alone. She had lived in a mining habitat before she came to Caesar as a youth-worker. Even if she had not remembered how to get to Baglian's apartment, she would have been able to figure it out, unguided.

Tears were still streaming from her eyes, the wetness felt cold on her cheeks with the slight illusion of breeze caused by walking briskly. She took her hood up after walking a while. Now that she could do no more for the child, Majgen began to remember herself again. She wiped her tears and changed her walk, to no longer let it reflect her emotions. Reminding herself to uphold mentarion dignity.

----=(The silence between the storms)=----

Majgen was pacing back and forth on the living-room floor in Baglian's apartment. For four hours, she had been waiting for him to get home. At first she had tried to study, Baglian had given her a time-table-less study-plan regarding non-empathic subjects. She was meant to work on such studies whenever she was not occupied by training her empathic abilities with him.

Focusing on academic matters, had been completely impossible for her these hours. Majgen was scared. Now alone, she could not understand how she had had the audacity to act in as fool-hardy a manner as she had done in the park. She had acted against protocol.

'Invasive therapy. How could I be so stupid? Why did I do it?'

She reached a wall and turned to pace in the opposite direction.

'What was I thinking? I'm a tenth ranked student, I've barely learned to scan. How could I come to believe that I knew what therapy form would be best?'

When Majgen reached the opposite wall she had no energy to turn again. She leaned against the wall pressing her hands and forehead against it.

'Why did I even leave the café without informing Baglian? And even if that had not been an offence in itself, I should have fetched him as soon as I realised the girl had been abused.'

Majgen took her forehead a small distance from the wall, to bump it gently against it.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' 

She leaned the side of her head against the wall. She was sure she would experience plenty pain, soon enough, without hurting herself.

'And I deserve it. How could I come to even think of performing invasive therapy.'

Majgen turned round and leaned her back to the wall.

'I hope I didn't harm the child.'

She tried to remember everything that had happened in the park. The fear made it hard for her to think clearly.

'I should have known better, I DO know better.'

She remembered what the child's mind had felt like before and after, she had transmitted to the child.

'I didn't harm her, I know I didn't. I just know.'

Not feeling guilt about her actions made Majgen more fearful. Mostly because then there was no guilt to distract her from feeling fear, but also:

'If I don't see the error of my ways myself, he will beat the fear of righteous fury into me instead. He has done that to others before.'

Majgen began pacing again.

'Femaron Baglian has no tolerance for disobedience, that alone will cost me dearly, but he will also consider my actions reckless. If he thinks I put the child's mental health at risk, there will be no mercy.'

"Why did I do it?" Majgen asked the air around her, "I'm not an educated mentarion. I have no right to meddle with other people's minds."

'I didn't meddle. I helped a child, saved her from a future filled with feelings of guilt and shame.'

Majgen kept going over the events and her motives, over and over, while pacing with fear. She had good reason to be afraid, and she knew it only too well. Once an Etaron had caused mental harm to one of Baglian's patients. Majgen knew this because she had perceived the memory from Baglian some days earlier.

Back then the memory had not instilled fear in her. Majgen had not thought she would perform invasive procedures against Baglian's instructions. Before this day, she had never acted disobediently for principal reasons. Thoughts of disobedience did not come to her easily, not normally; Majgen was usually too scared of the consequences to even consider disobedience.

Today, she had not just been disobedient. She had performed invasive therapy, something she had not been trained in at all. Even just transmitting comforting emotions to the child, had been crossing the line of what she was trained to do.

'To show a ten year old my own understanding of what I had seen in her memories, WAS an invasive procedure,' Majgen recounted, 'it was a non-empathic child.'

'I should have fetched Baglian as soon as I found the child had been abused. That would have been the proper course of action for a rank ten student.' Majgen stopped pacing to press her hands against her stomach, which had begun to hurt from the anxiety.

'How could I be so arrogant?' She asked herself, but couldn't help replying too.

'I know I was right!'

'I SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE IT.' 

'I did the right thing.'

Majgen gave up on arguing with herself, she could not instil a feeling of guilt in herself, not one that would be strong enough to lessen her punishment in any way.

'I'm in so much trouble.'

Images haunted her, from the memories of how Baglian had personally punished the Etaron who had caused his patient harm.

----=(Baglian's view on malpractice)=----

Years before Baglian had been one of two mentarions working as treating therapists at an Empaticon clinique. The other mentarion was a Firearon, who had an Etaron, Ake Ristro, as a personal student. For the sole purpose of giving the Etaron opportunity to train his diagnostic skills, Etaron Ristro had been allowed access to Baglian's patients.

One of those patients was troubled by multiple traumatic memories. Etaron Ristro estimated the patient was in need of memory repression, and decided to perform the invasive procedure himself. Ristro mastered the technique, he had conducted memory repression procedures on multiple occasions, but he was not meant to decide whether or not such a procedure should be performed.

Calling his mentor, Etaron Ristro gained confirmation that he was allowed to perform memory repression unsupervised. Ristro neglected to mention that he was planning to do so without consulting Femaron Baglian. After the call Ristro proceeded to make the appropriate memory repression journals, using normal empaths as memory-witnesses he performed the procedure.

A day later, Femaron Baglian went through patient journals and saw what Ristro had done. He immediately left his office in search for the young man, and found him in a laboratory section of the clinique, where the young offender was chatting up young members of the medical staff.

"Is there a doctor present?" Baglian asked, while approaching the group.

"I'm a doctor," one replied, while another also prepared to volunteer her services.

"Good," Baglian stated, "Your services will be required in a few moments."

Femaron Baglian turned his gaze to Etaron Ristro.

"Without my permission, you performed an invasive therapy procedure on one of my patients, Etaron Ristro."

"I diagnosed and then treated the patient accordingly, Femaron Baglian," Etaron Ristro said.

The Etaron's fear showed clearly in his emanations, but not on his face. Ristro was not Baglian's personal student, but Femaron Baglian outranked Ristro's mentor. Hence Etaron Ristro could not hide behind being another's student.

"Approach me, Etaron," Baglian commanded.

Once the Etaron stood in front of him Baglian began beating him. With clenched fists Baglian alternated between hitting the young man's face and stomach. Soon Ristro lost his balance and feel to the floor, spitting out blood and gasping for air. With calm mentarion dignity, Baglian walked to the nearest sink and started washing blood of his hands.

The two doctors rushed to Ristro's aid, but were stopped by Baglian's words.

"Stay away from him, I am not done with Etaron Ristro yet."

Once Baglian's hands were clean he wiped them with a paper towel, which he dispassionately deposited in a waste bin, before turning his attention to the Etaron on the floor again.

"Please, Femaron, no more. I won't treat your patients without permission again, Femaron Baglian," Ristro pleaded from the floor.

Baglian ignored the plea, and Ristro instinctively covered his head with his arms, when the Femaron moved back to him. Baglian was not aiming for the young mentarion's head, he had no plans of causing permanent harm, he was aiming for the Etaron's ribs. For the purpose of bending, or even breaking a couple of ribs, Baglian kicked Ristro's chest five times.

Task completed, Baglian turned and walked to the door, just before he reached it he turned to address Ristro one more time.

"If my patient has been harmed by your treatment, I will get back to you, Etaron Ristro." Then Baglian glanced at the two young doctors. "I'm done, you can patch him up now."

'I will need to change uniform,' Baglian thought while walking to his office.

In spite of his efforts to hit in ways that made blood spray away from him, a few blood droplets had landed on his uniform.

After changing Baglian went to see the patient - whom Etaron Ristro had treated - to see if the inexperienced mentarion had been right or wrong regarding his choice of treatment. The patient was a new arrival, Baglian had not seen to him personally yet.

The Femaron found that the Etaron had made a severe mistake. Ristro had repressed three traumatic memories. All three memories had caused emotional problems for the patient, and all three memories were more than a decade old. Baglian found that two of them had been personality-shaping. When removing a personality shaping memory, the mind of the subject would no longer understand the basis of the subjects personality.

If a fresh personality shaping memory was removed, the subject's personality would often successfully revert to what it was prior to the events described in the memory, but when an old personality shaping memory was removed emotional chaos would ensue. This would happen whether or not the mind managed to reverse the personality, fully or partially. If the personality reversed, the mind would be unable to cope with the inconsistency of current and remembered personality patterns. The consequences were practically unpredictable, ranging from insecurity, depression and nightmares - to complete conscious memory-loss of all years between the removed memory and the time the procedure was performed - to hallucinations and psychopathic behaviour in the subject.

Baglian did his best to restore the patient's memories, but Etaron Ristro had been very efficient; the studying Etaron truly mastered the repression techniques. For the first time ever Baglian found himself cursing at skill, as he realised he had to retrieve the memories from one of the memory-witnesses and feed them directly to the patient, rather than reconstituting the patients old memories directly from the patient's mind.

The patient needed many further follow-ups. In total Baglian spent nearly fifty hours in the patient's mind, trying to patch the damage Ristro had done. During the three weeks where Baglian worked to correct Etaron Ristro's malpractice, Ristro wisely did everything he could to stay out of the Femaron's proximity; every time Femaron Baglian saw the Etaron, he threw him a knuckled fist to the face or kidneys.

Baglian did this just as much to be sure to see as little of the Etaron as possible, as he did it as actual further punishment. Baglian was planning to get back to Etaron Ristro, on the matter of how harmed his patient had been - as he had promised. But he had to wait for the Etaron's injuries from his last beating to heal first.

When he had originally kicked Ristro in the chest he had broken four more ribs than planned. The amount of punishment Ristro had coming for the severity of his malpractice; was of an extent that would - in Baglian's estimate - break the Etaron's mind if his old injuries were not healed first. Baglian had no moral issues with the concept of serving Ristro some of his own medicine, but mentarions were too valuable to let go to waste. It was more important to teach Etaron Ristro to never repeat his mistakes, than to avenge the damage done to the patient.

Femaron Baglian did not manage to restore his patient fully. If Ristro had not removed the three memories the patient would, with Baglian's aid, have been able to recover completely from the initial problems that had brought him to the clinique. When Baglian had done everything a mentarion therapist could do, after Etaron Ristro's malpractice, the patient was sent home with psychoactive drugs, which he would have to take for the rest of his life. Also he was referred to tri-monthly empath appointments, which he would most likely need to go to for the rest of his life to avoid falling into psychopathic patterns.

After the patient was out of the clinique, Baglian no longer hit Etaron Ristro every time he saw him. But he never gave up the habit of occasionally beating Ristro on sight, not even after administering a severe whipping as soon as the Etaron's ribs were healed. When Baglian realised that Ristro's mind was beginning to crack under the pressure - that he would break if the abuse persisted - then Baglian chose to seek transfer away from the clinique, rather than ceasing his harassment.

Baglian considered it a valuable lesson to the Etaron, that some things were never truly forgiven.

----=(Consequences 1, Baglian comes home)=----

Majgen's pacing had been replaced by sitting. She was sitting in a couch, watching a clock mark the minutes on the opposite wall. Counting seconds between each minute, trying to foresee exactly when the next minute would tick into the clock. The temperature in the apartment was stable and unchanging, but sometimes Majgen felt she was freezing and sometimes she felt she was burning hot.

In the complete quiet of the apartment Majgen clearly heard Baglian enter the apartment. She jumped to her feet and turned to the direction of the apartment's small entrance foyer. Baglian was standing in the doorway between foyer and living-room already. Looking at her.

"Turn off your senses, Student."

Majgen obeyed instantly. She had received and obeyed that order from him several times in the past week. Always for purposes of him scanning her without having to mind sedate her. On previous occasions she had not been bothered, by being unable to sense his emanations for a while. But this time she wished he had waited some moments before giving the order. She wanted to know what he was feeling. She wanted to know how much trouble she was in.

Baglian walked to her. She could read nothing from his face, it was a mask of mentarion dignity. But she still tried, she kept her eyes on his face while he approached, searching for any clue. Looking for any twitching muscle or slight tension, which might reveal what was under the mask.

Standing in front of her he placed his hands on her ears. His palms shutting out sound. Majgen was stared up at the face of her mentor. His face still revealed nothing to her, not even when he closed his eyes to focus on the scan.

Baglian was worried.

Baglian had scanned Ukrial before leaving her in the custody of GRD social workers. The Governmental Resource Division was responsible for assigning abused, neglected or orphaned children to proper care. The children were not referred to as a resource, that would be too politically incorrect, but the adults willing to take care of such children were openly considered a resource.




Majgen Ch. 008



The Femaron had scanned the child to see if she would be in need of empathic therapeutic aid, and to learn more of how his student had handled the situation prior to his arrival.

In the child's mind, he had seen that Majgen had transmitted soothing emotions to the child. Baglian considered that an appropriate course of action for the situation and was pleased his student had displayed that much therapeutic understanding.

'Considering her lack of theoretic education in therapeutic areas, that was a promising judgement call,' Baglian thought.

But he had also seen in Ukrial's mind, that Majgen had transmitted her own understanding of matters to the child, by returning some of the child's own memories to her, embedded with Majgen's feelings regarding them.

When seeing this in Ukrial's memories of the park, Baglian had assumed Majgen had not known better. His student was severely undereducated for a mentarion of her age. Empathically showing one's own opinions in that manner was normal amongst mentarions. So at first Baglian had estimated her actions to have been caused by ignorance, an impression he had held on to until entering his own living-room and sensing Majgen's emanations.

Through the course of the past eight days Baglian had learned to interpret more subtleties in Majgen's emanations. The same way a non-empath would get better at interpreting the body language of another person over time, when getting more acquainted with that person.

Before he entered the apartment he had expected Majgen to be anxious to some degree, nervous that she might have done something wrong, but he expected she had not been aware of the errors of her ways - in the park. So he expected that if she was nervous and anxious, she would be insecure if she had actually displeased him.

He had been surprised to find himself wrong. As soon as he was in the doorway leading to his living-room, her emanations had washed over him. Powered by her fear they were clear even halfway across the luxuriously spaced room. He had recognised their nature immediately. These were the types of emanations he always felt from her when she knew she had displeased him, when she was certain he would punish her.

Baglian had taken this as a sign that his first understanding had been wrong. And that worried him. The child had not been harmed. But, if Majgen had known that the light invasive procedure she had performed could, in theory, have been harmful, then he would have to punish her in accordance to her knowledge of the offence. And he was not sure Majgen's mind could carry a punishment of that magnitude.

----=(Consequences 2, Ukrial's parents)=----

All matters concerning Baglian regarding the incident in the park, had been settled. He had given a full statement of what crimes he had learned of to the GED. He had informed the GRD of the mental state of Ukrial. He had even managed to convince the GED to confiscate all visual recordings Ukrial and his student in the park, he had convinced them it would be the best for the abused child. His motives in that regard, however, had been to keep his student's face out of news broadcasts; for Ukrial's sake partial confiscation of the recordings made by onlookers would have been sufficient.

Baglian was relieved that the threat of his student becoming a public figure had been averted.

The GED would not call on him further for the process of prosecuting Ukrial's parents. His statement as a Femaron was sufficient evidence for prosecution, unless Ukrial's parents should choose to demand authentication of his statement. In which case they would have to submit themselves to Drug Combined Lie Detector tests. 

Baglian hoped they would.

A factual statement from a professional mentarion was sufficient for a conviction, but a cold and dry listing of facts did not have a strong emotional impact on judges. If his statement was the only evidence submitted at trial, Ukrial's parents might very well be punished in the lower end of what the law allowed for such crimes. Maybe as little as eight years deprivation of freedom for the mother, some of them partial, and as little as ten years deprivation of freedom for the father, followed by half-consensual non-empathic therapy to help him control his pedophilic urges.

Most normal citizens did not know how drugs for lie detector tests worked. They would often volunteer to those tests because they considered it a chance to get their own view across, to make themselves seem less criminal and more victims of their own background. A few even believed they could partially cheat such tests.

No human could cheat a drug combined lie detector test. But it was correct that it was a chance to get one's own view across. What most didn't realise was that it was their unmodified view they would display in such a test. The drugs did not just make a person unable to lie, they temporarily removed all motives for lying too. 

When influenced by those drugs a person did not care about consequences for their actions. They did not try to enhance the least abominable motives for their crimes, in attempts to hide their more horrid motivations. They spoke completely freely. Of course, if they truly felt guilt other than fear of punishment the test revealed that too.

Baglian had not sensed much guilt in Ukrial's parents - only fear of consequences. Especially in her father. If he took a lie detector test, Baglian could predict the outcome. He had seen audio-visual recordings of sex-criminals like that pedophile from lie detector tests in the past. Often such recordings showed a man rubbing the front of his pants, explaining how he had molested his victims, while supplying detailed examples. A wide grin would often be on such a man's face, when he added how much he had enjoyed it.

Such audio-visual recordings efficiently convinced judges to go for maximum punishment within the limits of the law. They were far more efficient than any listing of facts could ever be. Baglian had faith that if Ukrial's father submitted to the test, then he would most likely face twenty years of full deprivation of freedom, followed by a lifetime of being chemically or surgically deprived of any abilities to feel sexual desires.

----=(To scan non-empathic people)=----

Baglian expected the answers that would confirm or disprove his worries regarding Majgen's motives, were to be found in her memories at the time she performed the invasive procedure, but he resisted the urge to skip directly to that memory. Instead he studied her memories from the moment they entered the park.

There was no urgency, justifying rushing to answers. Baglian had no other places he needed to be. He had nothing more important to do for the remainder of the day, than working on educating his student.

He was not bothered by Majgen's perception of and views on his approach to his sex-life. He did not find anything of interest in Majgen's memory of their arrival at the cafe. She seemed to be her normal obedient self, eager to please and stay out of trouble. Calm and stable, as she mostly had been while in his custody.

The intuitive nature of her mind scans of the non-empaths in the cafe, reminded him how much training she still needed in the mentarion ways. But he was pleased to notice yet another example of how carefully and intelligently she considered and adapted instructions. In this regard, the instructions he had given her on how to scan inconspicuously.

Both mentarions and weaker empaths were, by law, allowed to scan their surroundings, as best to their abilities. Any information they gathered that way were, however, covered by laws of professional secrecy. The information a mentarion received that way was allowed to be shared with other mentarions, but would still be protected by the laws of professional secrecy and privacy of mind.

Information about crimes was not protected by those laws. On the contrary, mentarions learning of crimes this way were legally obliged to report their findings to the GED. Certain smaller offences were not grounds for such a legal obligation, but most crimes which could upon trial lead to a larger penalty than a fine was a basis for obligation to report.

Hence, it was completely legal for Majgen to scan her surroundings, and very useful for her training too. The reasons for teaching young mentarions to scan non-empaths inconspicuously were based on the personal safety of the individual mentarion and for the sake of the general popularity of the mentarion minority.

Most non-empaths found the concept of being mind-scanned disturbing. Persons who were inclined to respond to insults or other unpleasantries with violence, were very likely to physically attack an empath if they got the impression the empath was invading their privacy.

Also very important to the empathic minority in general and more specifically the mentarion fraction of empaths - was the aspect of general popularity. Only one in a million humans had any empathic abilities. Only one in eighty million had abilities strong enough to be called mentarion. The history of human empaths was a very clear indicator of what could happen if their small minority lost its general popularity in the majority of the population.

Baglian had not mentioned these political aspects to Majgen, when explaining proper public behaviour in regard to scanning. Like Ottearon Weissme, Baglian considered Majgen's political understanding to be at an intolerably low level for a mentarion her age.

During her five years at the Mentariata Majgen's political understanding had barely developed. Ottearon Weissme had tried to supply her with academic training in political matters. He had even cut down on her academic training in other matters. He had also supplied her with private tutors.

Weissme's efforts had been to almost no avail. Majgen was fairly intelligent, but her daily anxiety and fear kept her too dense to be able to follow complex explanations, and her constant recital of trivial data had made her further unable to absorb the information needed to understand events and causalities in a political context.

Baglian had not mentioned why he gave her the instructions on how to be inconspicuous when scanning, but Majgen had perceived the knowledge from his emanations. 

In her time with Baglian Majgen's anxiety had in general been lower than the previous five years, and she had been forced to abandon trivial thinking and other mind-numbing thought-techniques. Hence her intelligence was no longer severely inhibited, and her natural curiosity had returned with the full vengeance of five years wasted.

Baglian was beginning to understand how much information Majgen gained from emanations, but he hadn't understood how much she learned from it. Majgen was not just quickly learning to understand Baglian's view on many political aspects, she had begun to compare it with what she saw in the minds of others around her. She was not ready to form views of her own yet. However, her semi-conscious processes had begun moving towards such stages.

----=(Majgen's protective side)=----

'She left the café without even thinking of alerting me,' Baglian noticed, 'That is very atypical for her.'

He realised that her emotional make-up in general felt different than what he had grown used to sensing in her.

'Another side of her personality. One she has not showed around me earlier.'

He followed her memories as she followed the child.

'I had no clue Student Majgen was able to forget herself this completely.' He followed her memories further, noting Majgen's complete lack of professional distance to the child's emotions.

'She thought she might not be allowed to transmit soothing emotions to the child. Yet she didn't hesitate a moment to consider the consequences to herself, if she was right.'

Baglian frowned with his eyes still closed, forming a furrow between his brows.

Majgen could not follow his emotions nor his movements inside her mind, not with her empathic senses shut down. She saw the furrow forming and she wished she knew why his expression changed. However she was already so terrified that her own emotions did not change significantly with the change in his face.

Baglian opened his eyes when he reached Majgen's considerations regarding transmitting the child more than mere comforting emotions. But he did not see with his eyes, Majgen's memories had his full attention.

'She knew I would consider it wrong of her, she knew, and still she did it. I was within yelling distance but still she chose to treat the child herself.' Baglian was too surprised to feel anger at his student's reckless choice. 'She not only knew, she overestimated the penalty for her offence.' Baglian replayed the memory again and again, to understand why Majgen had so quickly decided to expose herself to punishment.

'Love,' he concluded, 'In that moment she loved the child, as if it was hers. She would have died for the child without blinking.'

Baglian withdrew himself partially from Majgen's mind. He blinked when he realised his eyes were open, and turned their gaze down to Majgen's face. She was trying to uphold a mask of mentarion dignity, and failing miserably. Her fear was clearly visible would have been even to a non-empath.

'Why did she love a child she had never met before? Most feel compassion for any child in pain. But she loved it. Why?' He was curious, but that matter could wait a bit. The differences between care, compassion and love were mostly considered mysterious even by mentarions.

Baglian decided to continue to a more direct interrogation, asking questions while scanning often saved a lot of time in searching for answers. He let his palms slide of her ears and placed them on her shoulders instead, so she would be able to hear his questions clearly.

"So, Student Majgen, you thought that transmitting soothing emotions to a crying child might be wrong." It was not a question, but the wording caused Majgen to think up answers even though she kept them to herself.

"Do you regret now that you did that?" Baglian asked.

Majgen wished she could answer 'yes', but lying was not an option.

"No," she replied.

'Even now she does not regret. Even though she appears to be her old anxious self, worrying about her own hide.'

Baglian was both relieved and disappointed that the protective side of her personality, which had awoken in the park was so well integrated with the other sides of Majgen. Relieved because when it was well integrated it should be possible for him to predict when it would dominate her actions, and it might be possible for him to teach her to act appropriately even when this part of her was dominant. But disappointed for reasons of what he would have to do to that side of her personality if he should fail in such education.

'The prospect of training a student motivated only by corporal punishment, was so much simpler when I thought she was an utter coward.'

If he or another would one day need to destroy an integrated part of her personality she would never fully recover. If Majgen had been a normal mentarion, or even just a strong mentarion maybe even with as much as Syvaron potential, then not even Baglian would seriously consider that option. Even he, with his strong sense of duty, understood that an important goal did not justify any and all means. However, Baglian suspected that Majgen might have Niaron potential, the highest possible rank for a human empath. At that time there was only one living mentarion of the rank Niaron. Before that one had gained Niaron rank it had been twenty years since the last mentarion with Niaron rank died.

Even more important than her possible Niaron potential, he knew she had abilities no living mentarion had ever heard of before.

Baglian looked into Majgen's frightened eyes while he considered the consequences if he could not make her control the protective sides of her personality. He did not allow his face to reveal his emotions. For the first time, his duty to train the special girl felt like a burden rather than a privilege.

He had not allowed himself to develop warm feelings for his student. He did not know it, but if not for a certain fact about her origin, it would have been hard for him to adhere to that decision. Especially now that she was beginning to show signs of a sense of duty and selflessness. The fact was however that Majgen was a Hawlun-orphan, and Baglian would never be able gain deeper personal emotions for a Hawlun-orphan. The shame he kept secret even to himself regarding Hawlun-orphans, would prevent such emotional bonds from forming.

Even without warm personal feelings towards the girl, Baglian's conscience would not feel good about destroying Majgen's personality. The brief realisation that maybe it would be needed in the future, was sufficient to give him a bitter taste in his mouth and a floating sensation of nausea.

'I will do my best to avoid that,' he thought while still looking into her brown eyes, 'I will do everything in my power to avoid letting such destruction become necessary. I promise you that Majgen Rahan.'

Baglian was too disciplined to let a single muscle twitch in his face, when he made the promise. So for now Majgen remained clueless about his personal conflict. Baglian had no illusions of being able to keep the promise secret from her in the long run. Everything Baglian knew, eventually Majgen would know. He had accepted that from day one with her.

Majgen's mentor had been quiet a while since she answered his question. Her fear did not diminish. Rather, it felt like it was fluttering through her mind unrest-fully. Her stomach was hurting and she felt cold. She wanted to hug her own stomach and curl up in a small ball, but she dared not move at all.

"You were wrong," Baglian suddenly said.

Majgen was not sure what he was referring to, but she got that answered as he continued.

"You were wrong, when you thought you might not be allowed to soothe the crying child by transmitting simple soothing emotions."

That information brought only a tiny, nearly unnoticeable relief to Majgen. The possible consequences for transmitting loving and caring emotions, had been the least of her worries.

Baglian gave her a moment to absorb his last words before he spoke on:

"So, Student Majgen, you believed that you were not permitted to perform invasive procedures on a non-empathic child."

Again the words, made Majgen form an answer in her mind and withhold it.

"You were right."

The words sounded like a verdict to Majgen's ears, she swallowed nervously. Her anxiety managed to rise even higher. She prepared herself to hearing what her punishment would be, and was unprepared for his next line of words.

"You were convinced you were doing the right thing."

Those words almost caused Majgen to nod an affirmation, but she caught herself in time. Three seconds later Baglian asked a question.

"Do you know what intelligent instinct is?"

"No, Femaron Baglian."

"It is when subconscious and semiconscious processes cause an individual to believe a certain course of action is right. Without having conscious knowledge of why," Baglian explained.

Majgen understood the connection immediately.

'So that's how I knew it was right to do what I did for Ukrial,' she thought and felt relief wash over her to have an answer to that mystery.

Baglian was still in her mind, he followed her stream of emotions. He gave the feeling of relief several seconds to spread and settle. The emotional impact of being deprived of the feeling again would be stronger that way.

"Do you know what emotional pseudo-logic is, Student Majgen?"

"Not entirely, Femaron Baglian." She had heard the term before. One of her tutors had tried to educate her in the basics of empathic terminology. However she hadn't made much progress under that tutoring.




Majgen Ch. 008



"That matter is too complicated for me to explain in full right now, Student, but do you at least have some comprehension for what it means that the word pseudo is placed in front of the word logic?"

Majgen did not understand exactly where Baglian was headed with this questioning, but she was getting a bad feeling about it. She felt a strong urge to activate her empathic senses, before being told she was allowed to.

"Don't even think about turning your senses on again without permission, Student," Baglian warned, he was still inside her mind.

"I won't, Femaron," Majgen promised, making sure to regain enough self-control to make her words true. Then she continued to answer his question.

"I think that pseudo has been placed in front of logic in that term, to imply that it is similar to logic, but not quite the same as logic, Femaron Baglian."

"Correct," Baglian stated, still keeping a close watch on Majgen's emotions in response to each word he then said:

"Intelligent instinct is based on emotional pseudo-logical processes in the sub- and semi-conscious parts of the mind." Already after this part of his explanation he could feel another form of fear rising in Majgen. Struggling it's way through her currently dominant emotion, which was fear of punishment. He waited for the right time to aid the new feeling further before he continued.

"Hence, intelligent instinct is not actually intelligent. It is merely called intelligent to distinguish it from more primitive forms of instinct." With the aid of Baglian's words the other form of fear gained dominance in Majgen's mind. Fear of failure.

'No,' she thought, 'NO, it felt so right. I knew I was right, I knew,' but Majgen also remembered that she had been unable to figure out how she knew.

Baglian remained quiet, giving Majgen time to fully understand.

'What if I wasn't right?' The thought that she might have harmed Ukrial woke Majgen's protective side. Since Majgen was too young and uneducated to have any understanding of the concept of different sides of one's personality, she did not notice the change in herself.

Baglian did. His plan had been to wake this side of her. This was the side of her he needed to punish. This was the side of her he needed to educate.

'I must KNOW!' Majgen thought.

She no longer let the fear of punishment affect her. All that mattered now was the child. Her eyes had been aimed at Baglian all along, but for a while her attention had been turned inwards, now she turned her full attention to Baglian again.

"How is Ukrial, Femaron Baglian?"

"I am the one asking questions now, Student Majgen. Not you."

"I want to know, Femaron."

Baglian was not the least bit surprised by her defiance. He had already understood from her memories of being with Ukrial, that her protective side was far too selflessly brave for her own good. Her behaviour now was in full accordance with his plan to teach her protective side a lesson.

He withdrew his right hand from her left shoulder and swiftly stepped back in a side-wards movement to give his right fist room to gain force. He gave her a hard blow to the stomach, while still holding on to her right shoulder with his left hand. The force of the blow pushed her air out and caused her to bend forward. While Majgen was gasping to regain her breath, Baglian let go of her right shoulder too. Majgen ignored the pain in her stomach as best she could. She straightened herself as fast as she could, and turned to face Baglian again.

"Please tell me, Femaron Baglian," she pleaded, in spite of expecting more punishment for her continued defiance.

Baglian slapped her face with an open palm. The pain from that was negligible compared to the blow he had given seconds earlier.

"Selfish bitch." The insult was an act on Baglian's part, but with her empathic senses off Majgen didn't realise that. His words caught her full attention, and he continued.

"Do you really think the child will be better of because you find out how she is? Do you think you will be allowed anywhere near her again?"

'He is right, I can't help Ukrial now.'

His words hurt more than the slap had.

'What have I done?' Majgen felt despair rising in her. Baglian's word and actions were convincing her that Ukrial had been harmed by her actions. Stronger than despair guilt spread through her. It permeated every part of her.

'What have I done!?' she wailed silently inside herself.

'Guilt,' Baglian thought, 'she took the bait.'

It was a difficult game he was playing. If he pushed her the wrong way, she might open her empathic senses even just a moment, if she did that she would most likely realise from his emanations that Ukrial had not been harmed by her actions at all, and this opportunity to get her protective side under control would be lost.

In reality, Baglian had found that apart from saving the child from a continued life in sexual abuse. Majgen had with one simple light invasive procedure given the girl a personality shaping experience, which already displayed promises for Ukrial to be able to put the abuse behind her without suppressing the memories in an unhealthy manner.

Prior to meeting Majgen the girl had been emotionally torn. After three years of sexual abuse the child's emotions had taken several steps down a path that would have ended in a severely unhealthy compartmentalisation. Baglian knew that only from the child's memories. 

After he had sent Majgen home three hours had passed before the legal matters had been settled, and he was with the child again. In those hours every sign of beginning emotional compartmentalisation had disintegrated. What he sensed was a very sad and distressed child, who was alone in the world. Deprived of both her parents, and deprived of the illusion that they truly loved her.

But incredibly he also sensed that she was an emotionally healthy child. In her memories the signs of beginning mental illness were clear, but in her current state there were none. He had stayed with the child till he was sure. 

Baglian considered Majgen's direct effect on the child to have been an extremely lucky coincidence. For the mind of a child like Ukrial, to show such miraculous signs of improvement, the subject would normally have needed several longer sessions with an experienced mentarion, or weeks of therapy with the weaker empaths of the Empaticon, or years of non-empathic forms of therapy.

Baglian considered the miraculous change occurring as a consequence of Majgen's treatment to be a lucky fluke. He believed that when Majgen supplied exactly what the child needed, it had been a coincidence. He did not believe that Majgen had truly known that this was exactly what the child had needed. He knew she had believed to know, but he was convinced she had just been lucky.

----=(Consequences 3, Majgen)=----

A need to find out how Ukrial was doing, still burned in Majgen, but now that she had realised that the knowledge would only satisfy her own need, she ceased her defiant behaviour. 

Majgen felt guilt because she now believed she had harmed Ukrial, and she felt guilt because she had exposed the child to risk of harm in the first place, even though her intent had been to help. She felt shame because she realised how immensely arrogant her actions had been. Acting on her instincts with her mentor so close at hand, had in the end been a sign that she had believed she herself was more suited to aid the child.

And she felt ashamed about her defiance just now. Before Baglian had slapped her and called her selfish, she had truly thought that defiance was selfless.

Baglian and Majgen, stood still for several minutes. Majgen stood still because anything else would be defiant. Baglian stood still to let Majgen simmer in her own emotions, making sure she got the time needed to learn a lesson from them.

After a while her inner torment made Majgen forget, rather than ignore, the prospect of impending physical pain. She wanted to cry, but her guilt and her shame allowed her no tears for herself.

She had been lost in her own thoughts a while, when Baglian moved from his spot next to her. She was not paying attention to Baglian's movements. Baglian went to the living-room's drink cabinet, where he filled a glass with water. Then he moved to one of the rooms hidden, but not secret, wall-safes. This one contained medication so he kept it locked with code as well as biological identification. He took three soluble pills from the safe and put them in the water. He walked back to the drink cabinet, and waited there for the pills to dissolve. He stirred the glass with a stirring rod, which he carefully deposited in the trash bin after use. He then walked to Majgen, with the glass.

"Take this glass," Baglian ordered, while reaching it to her.

Majgen took the glass. The unexpected order pulled her out of her own thoughts and brought her attention back to Baglian, and the glass which was now in her hand. She was puzzled to some extent, but too absorbed in her inner torment to pay much heed to that emotion.

"You have the right to refuse to drink the content of that glass," Baglian informed. Then he turned from her and went to the living-room's control panel, which was placed close to the exit to the foyer.

Majgen followed him with her eyes, but stayed where he had left her, full glass in one hand. She saw him activate the control panel manually, and she saw him type only a few times on the panel. He was activating a previously programmed function. To Majgen it seemed Baglian had personalised every single mechanical device in his life. Wallet, communicators, room controls, broadcast viewing devices and anything else she could think of. No detail was too unimportant to make more efficient.

The living-room initiated the program Baglian had activated. One of the couches moved further into the room. This made the area between the rear of that couch and the wall bigger. Simultaneously the front layer of the wall moved into the ceiling, displaying a grey coloured inner wall. And what appeared to be several safes. The couch was moving slowly, a safety feature of automated furniture movements.

Once the couch stood still, one of the safes opened, by rolling its doors into the wall from the sides. The safe was about one metre high and one metre wide. It was placed at floor level in the middle of the wall. A white grey shape pushed out of the safe and began unfolding itself.

Majgen was used to wealthy luxury from her time at the Mentariata, she could recognise self-unfolding furniture when she saw it, but she did not realise what piece of furniture this was until it was near its functional shape.

When she did all thoughts of Baglian's perfectionist nature disappeared from her mind. All her emotions of guilt and shame were pushed away too, and gave room to an overpowering fear.

'Tyla. Evil grief its a tyla. I didn't even know Femaron Baglian owned a tyla,' she thought, as her hands began to shake, to the extent that the water in it started slopping about.

The tyla was a piece of furniture which at Majgen's time was only used in connection with corporal punishment. A very different purpose than what its initial creator had had in mind, when making the first designs.

More than four thousand years prior to Majgen's birth, the tyla had been designed, defined and named. Back then it was a piece of furniture used in massage parlours, or other places that offered professional massage. The piece of furniture was initially created to make it possible for a masseur to give a thorough back-massage, without straining his own body with awkward work angles. While still allowing the person receiving the pleasant treatment to be positioned comfortably, with a healthy blood-flow to all parts of his body.

The mentarions were the first to officially use the tyla for other purposes. Others had realised earlier that the tyla was just as conveniently designed to bring pain to a human's back, as it was to bring pleasure, but the Mentarions were the ones who made it official, by introducing the tyla as a standardised form of corporal punishment.

Even though only a small fraction of the human population had personal acquaintance with tylas, everyone knew what it was from movies or other popular entertainment aspects giving insight to the mentarion ways. Nowadays very few were aware, a tyla had originally been an instrument of pleasure and well-being.

Majgen was personally acquainted with tylas. Not every Femaron at the Mentariata felt confident using their fists for corporal punishment beyond a slap to the cheek. If any Femaron ever mentioned why, it would mostly be with words flowered with inconvenience of bleeding, bruises and risk of broken bones; in reality most of the Femaron's who resorted to use of a tyla, for lesser offences, did not do so for the above mentioned reasons.

Majgen had learned through emanations from the teachers in the Mentariata, that many of them had not passed the advanced courses in corporal punishment. Without those classes a high ranking mentarion was not allowed to beat lower ranking mentarions under uncontrolled conditions. Kicks, fist-blows, hitting instruments not specifically designed for the purpose or even an unrestrained target, were all elements considered to belong to the category of 'uncontrolled conditions' in referral to corporal punishment according to the mentarion ways.

A tyla-whipping, was not in itself a term for extremely painful punishment, Majgen knew that from experience. However, she also knew that Baglian had no inhibitions against using his body or whichever tools was nearby, for corporal punishment. Baglian had passed every single advanced course in corporal punishment available in the mentarion society, and a couple hand to hand combat courses available in the non-empathic society.

In spite of being an instrument for corporal punishment in itself, the sight of a tyla alone was not what instilled such strong fears in Majgen. Her relation to the concept of corporal punishment was no longer of phobic proportions. She still feared pain, but had accepted it as a part of her life.

Majgen knew that Baglian was skilled at inflicting pain without resorting to 'controlled conditions'. She had gained the clear impression from him that he would never resort to restraining an offender during punishment, unless it was absolutely necessary. From Baglian's memories Majgen had gained a large insight into how high levels of pain he could inflict without resorting to controlled conditions. 

The thought of what level of pain he planned to inflict with the aid of a tyla, was terrifying.

Baglian noticed the erratic movements of the water surface in Majgen's glass, and followed the logic of her emotions.

When the tyla was fully unfolded Majgen closed her eyes a few seconds. A futile attempt to gain control of her shaking. When she opened them again Baglian stood next to the tyla.

"You have a legal right to not drink the content of that glass, but I recommend you drink it," Baglian stated.

Majgen looked at the glass in her still shaking hand. The water had a slightly orange taint from the dissolved medication. Her mouth was dry, but not from thirst.

"What is in the glass, Femaron Baglian," she asked, the words shook less than the lips they passed coming out.

"Grane."

"Grane, but isn't that... isn't that a..." Majgen didn't want to be remembering the word correctly, she hoped to be mistaken. But she was not, she remembered correctly.

"Grane is a fast-working, intermediate lasting anti-empathic drug." Baglian still followed his students emotion's meticulously. The grane appeared to be an even larger surprise to her than the tyla. He continued his explanation.

"As you may, or may not be aware, you have a right to refuse to take any anti-empathic drugs I offer you. I do not have the legal right to force you to ingest it at this time. Consuming the contents of that glass is an offer you can refuse."

Majgen's eyes flew between the glass and Baglian and the tyla. She knew the normal connection between anti-empathic drugs and punishment, but she did not consider herself to fit that scenario. Not when the punishing party was a Femaron.

'Baglian didn't offer Etaron Ristro anti-empathic drugs prior to whipping him, he didn't wear a helmet to shield himself either. Ristro was a graduated mentarion. I am only rank 10,' Majgen thought, as she remembered how Baglian had whipped the young man. She was trying to understand the situation in spite of her fear.

"I wasn't aware that you had perceived that memory from me," Baglian said, "The difference is that Etaron Ristro only had Trearon potential. You, however, have higher empathic potential than I do, Student Majgen."

His words were hard to grasp for the terrified young woman. She had never thought of herself as a potentially powerful mentarion.

'I'm only rank 10, I haven't even had any training in using my empathic abilities in mind struggles.'

"Any idiot can perform a powerful mind shock, without much training. If their potential and desperation is strong enough," Baglian explained, in response to her unspoken confusion, "You have the potential. Before I am done with you, you will also have the desperation."

He paused watching his student's emotions closely. If she broke into a panic she wouldn't drink the drugs, and he wanted her to drink it for other reasons than the imminent whipping. If his only motive for temporarily removing her empathic senses had been in regards to the whipping. He would have chosen a brand with an effect that only lasted hours. The amount of grane he had put in the glass would keep Majgen non-empathic for several days.

"Not drinking will not save you from the punishment you face now," he stated, "I am in possession of appropriate helmets. In the past, I have had other students with higher empathic potential than myself."

'Then why did you give me this glass?' Majgen kept the question to herself, but the meaning of her question was easy to understand emotionally without knowing the exact wording.

"I offer you grane for your own sake, Student. If you refuse to drink it I will have to wear a helmet. If I wear a helmet I cannot monitor if the pain is even stronger than intended," Baglian said, it was only partially a lie. If he had not had ulterior motives with giving her grane he would have refrained from using both drug and helmet.

He was planning to expose Majgen to a higher level of pain, than he had exposed her to previously. But he was not planning to torture her to the extreme degree, he was implying. He did not seriously think she would loose her senses and attempt to attack him. Not from the whipping he had planned for her at this time.

'To monitor it's not stronger? Not to monitor it's not less?'

"If you believe there is any chance that you will be beaten less, because I wear a helmet. You are not just ignorant, you are stupid." Baglian begun moving towards her his hand already stretched in front of him as if he was going to take the glass. Baglian was very skilled at knowing when to act, to push a student into the decision he wanted.

"I want to drink it," Majgen exclaimed while grasping the glass harder.

"If you want to drink it, then drink it. I won't let you stall further," Baglian claimed. 

Majgen raised the glass to her lips and emptied it swiftly. Baglian took the empty glass from her and walked to the drink cabinet. Where he deposited it on the tray he kept there for dirty glasses.

"You will soon feel a burning sensation in your stomach," Baglian said with his back to Majgen. He turned round, to look at her and continued, "In about seven to ten minutes your ability to control if your empathic senses are shut off or turned on will begin to fail. In about fifteen minutes your empathic senses will be completely gone until the effect of the drug starts to wear off." After saying this Baglian pointed to one of the clocks in the living-room. 




Majgen Ch. 008



"Notice the time, Student Majgen. I am going for a walk. In fifteen minutes you are going to go to your room to undress. In twenty minutes you are going to be in position on the tyla. In around twenty-five minutes I will return." Baglian moved towards the foyer, when he reached its doorway he stopped. Only one step sooner than he would have been out of Majgen's line of sight.

"You can keep your knickers on. In spite of what certain people imply, the reason for nudity during a whipping is not a matter of humiliation through violation of modesty." After this last message Baglian swiftly exited the apartment, he wanted to be sure to be out of her sensing range before she lost the ability to keep her senses shut off. 

He would make sure not to return sooner than twenty-four minutes later. If Majgen sensed his emanations for even a fraction of a second, he was sure she would realise he was playing a charade. To Baglian his student's trust was a small price to pay, for an opportunity to teach her protective side a lesson in the possible consequences of not adhering to mentarion rules.

The whipping itself, would not teach Majgen anything she didn't already know, it was merely a necessity. Majgen had will-fully and deliberately disobeyed him, done something she knew he would disapprove of. Not only that her will-fullness had been of a kind that could in theory potentially have harmed another. A child. He had to respond with violence.

Baglian sealed the apartment from the outside control panel. Like Ottearon Weissme, Femaron Baglian had come to believe that Majgen might try to escape if the opportunity became too easily and temptingly available, at a time were the motive was strong. The apartment had two exit doors, but like most apartments in their time, it had no windows. Locking the outer doors was all that was needed to imprison Majgen.

Then he went to the nearest building elevator to leave the apartment complex. He was going to take a walk to pass time.

The true lesson he had planned for his student, was not about physical pain. It was a lesson of guilt as a consequence of stupid actions. For the next many days he would make sure that Majgen continued believing she had harmed Ukrial. He did not intend to lie directly, but he would make sure she didn't discover the truth while the grane was still in effect.

'Once the grane wears off, I will be unable to hide the truth,' Baglian thought.

Majgen turned her eyes to the tyla.

The highest part of the tyla was as high as her waist line. But she expected it had the option to be raised, most tylas did. This tyla was uni-size she noticed, not polymorphic to size. Apart from the upper thigh rests. Upper thigh rests were almost always polymorphic to size, it was inherent in the design because in most models they did not slip in place until the occupant was in position.

The topmost part was flat. When she positioned herself her upper body would be laying flat on this part, and her legs would be bent below her and a bit to the sides. Held in a frog like position by the upper- and lower-thigh rests. Most of the weight of her upper body would rest on her stomach and breasts. 

The part of the tyla, which supported its occupant's upper body was tilted thirty degrees from horizontal. When properly positioned on a tyla a person's head was placed higher than the rest of the person's body. The slope of the body-rest ensured that part of the weight from the upper body was transferred to the upper thigh-rests.

The original tylas had been equipped with a complete seating-rest, so part of the weight from the upper body would be carried by the clients bottom. But the mentarions had altered that part of the design, by removing the seating-rest and improving the upper-thigh rests accordingly.

Her lower thighs would not be carrying any weight other than their own. They would be bent below her upper thighs in an angle that would at first seem pleasant. Because it allowed free blood-flow. With time the angle would feel less pleasant however, because of the immobility of her knee-joint, especially with the restraints which would be put on when Baglian returned.

Majgen did not know it, but back when the tyla had been meant for massages, the lower thigh rests had been adjustable by the occupant, while the tyla was in use. To ensure sufficient freedom of movement to keep the position comfortable for hours if wanted. When the tyla had just been released to market those thousands of years ago, it had taken a great deal of advertising and sweet talking, to get clients accustomed to the frog-like half laying half sitting position of the tyla.

Luckily for the inventor of the tyla, it had been a time where it was fashionable for the wealthier people in several nations to experiment with new ways of enjoying luxury. Once the wealthy people adopted the habit of tyla back-massages, the upper-middle-classes quickly followed.

Being a uni-size tyla the body rest was wider and longer than needed to accommodate her. Since she was fairly slender, and below average height even for women.

At the upper half of the body-rest it's sides elongated in a smooth curve down to the sides. She could see a wrist restraint dangling from the bottom of one of those sides. Like most tylas this one was designed to keep the occupants arms restrained to the sides. 

At her time tylas were always designed to keep the arms away from the body. Either to the sides or above. Never down along the body, if they were tied down along the body. The offender would be able to wiggle more, making the the whipping a less 'controlled condition'.

Also further bonds would be needed to prevent the offender from sitting up and maybe even fall backwards. Also arms along the body would make it harder for the punishing party to avoid hitting the offender's arms, when the target was the back, and vice versa.

Majgen was cold, and she shook with fear. She stayed exactly where Baglian had left her, waiting for fifteen minutes to pass. Her eyes moved back and forth between the clock and the tyla. Some seconds she wished for time to pass faster, so she could get it over with. Some seconds she wished for time to pass slower. Either way time was not affected by her wishes.

#



Copyright of Nanna Marker

Thanks for the proofreading M. you are a star :)

As always feedback of all kinds will be immensely appreciated.

(I'm only 60 000 words ahead of postings at the moment, the new writing is a bit into "book" two, been cracking my brain over edits of already submitted things. At least the chapters for the next six weeks are written, and awaiting edits for their submission times.)

(date of afterword 15th june 2008)



Majgen Ch. 009



My sincere apologies for the delayed posting of this chapter.  *

----=(Sense, silence and a promise)=----

In the following days Majgen truly learned to understand the burden of guilt, Baglian's manipulations had convinced her, she had harmed Ukrial, and while the grane was in effect, Baglian made sure Majgen was not ripped out of that illusion. He monitored her mind thoroughly and regularly to see how well his plan worked; at all times he found she suffered appropriately from the draining emotion, yet he did not allow her much spare time to wallow fully in the guilt.

While Majgen's empathic abilities were gone, Baglian forced her to focus on her schooling in non-empathic matters. Often he caught her reading with her eyes only, not allowing the words to reach her mind, while thinking of the child, Ukrial. When she did that, he sometimes slapped her, other times he slapped the table she was at, startling her.

"Do you think that you are helping anyone right now, Student Majgen?" he would ask.

"No, Femaron Baglian," she would reply each time.

"If you ever want to be able to help anyone as a mentarion, you must study harder," he often finished, before leaving her to her studies again, and every time, Majgen would focus harder again.

Majgen yearned for her empathic abilities to come back, not just to find out how much she had hurt Ukrial, but also to be able to train her mentarion skills. Majgen hoped that if she became a skilled mentarion, then one day she would be allowed to help Ukrial again.

In the middle of the night five days after the whipping, Majgen woke.

'The effect of the grane is wearing off,' she thought, while lying on her stomach to spare the bruises on her back.

Femaron Baglian was sleeping in his own bedroom. Since she couldn't sense him through the walls no one was within her sensing range, still she easily recognised the sensation of her empathic senses turning on and off - uncontrollably. It never disturbed her to turn her senses off and on voluntarily. The uncontrolled switching, however, gave her a slight nausea. Unable to sleep further, she got up and went to the living-room to study. 

Four hours later it was time for her to make breakfast for herself and her mentor. At that time her senses were back at full power. A few moments earlier than Baglian's wake up alert, Majgen had the breakfast set and ready. Dutifully she returned to her studies while waiting for her mentor to arrive. He usually showered and groomed prior to breakfast.

When Baglian entered the living-room, Majgen rose from her studies to serve him his breakfast. That was their morning routine. Baglian would sit. Majgen would hand him any breakfast dishes he felt like. Before the whipping Baglian often had not needed to state his desires; from his emanations she had mostly known what he felt like eating. While Majgen had been affected by grane he had of course needed to speak his wishes.

Quietly, Majgen served her teacher, knowing Baglian didn't enjoy conversation in the mornings. She gave him the dishes he wanted sooner than he asked for them, as they were both used to from the days prior to the whipping.

"I see you have your empathic abilities back, Student Majgen," Baglian said, and started devouring his meal.

Majgen nodded and gathered food for herself. After choosing a hot beverage, she sat to eat. Not halfway through her meal she received Baglian's memories of Ukrial. She froze spoon mid-air.

'Ukrial is well.' Relief shot through her as she perceived Baglian's full analysis of the child. 'Ukrial is healthy, she will be ok. I didn't harm her.'

Majgen remembered the spoon, and ate more soup while going over Baglian's memories of mind-scanning Ukrial. The bowl was half full by the time she started wondering why Baglian hadn't told her.

'He knew I thought I had harmed Ukrial,' Majgen remembered.

Raising her face, Majgen studied Baglian across the table. Visually Baglian appeared to only be interested in his food, but she sensed he was paying an unusual amount of attention to her emotions.

'He is guessing I just gained some of his knowledge regarding Ukrial,' Majgen perceived.

A moment later Baglian entered the top of her mind to certify his assumption. Without talking, he left her mind again and continued his meal.

'He intentionally kept the knowledge from me. He wanted me to believe I had hurt the child.' 

That realisation made Majgen angry, but she said nothing either. Instead she sipped her breakfast beverage, trying to visually appear unaffected - like Baglian did. She knew her mentor would not punish her for how she felt about him, as long as she behaved appropriately.

A lump of anger and resentment formed in Majgen's throat. Although it was troublesome to force food past that lump, she managed to finish her meal. Remaining seated, she waited for Baglian to finish, so she could clear the table. When done eating, Baglian turned his eyes to Majgen. She perceived the meaning of what he would say before he spoke it. But she still turned her eyes to him, in order to listen appropriately attentively.

"I agreed to see Ukrial in two years, for a follow up session," Baglian said, "If you study hard and progress as a mentarion, and do your best to be obedient, then I will let you come with me."

Majgen swallowed a few times. She sensed Baglian wanted a reply, but wanted to be sure her reply would not reflect her anger.

"I will do my best, Femaron Baglian."

Neither of them spoke further. Baglian left the table, to let his student clean up after their meal. Neither of them mentioned Ukrial again later.

While putting food and dishes in place, Majgen considered her teacher's promise. She decided to do her best to honour her end of the bargain. Although she resented having to please Baglian to that end. Anger still boiled in her, Majgen was not accustomed to feeling anger. In her time at the Mentariata she had been too scared to be angry. Only two weeks had passed since she left that school.

----=(Back to work)=----

Upon receiving Majgen as a personal student, Baglian had taken a vacation from his other Femaron duties. By the time he resumed his regular work, Majgen had still been influenced by grane. Because he couldn't educate her on mentarion therapy-forms while she was non-empathic he didn't bring her with him, instead he kept her locked in the apartment while working.

The first day Majgen's empathic abilities were back, he locked her in the apartment again, estimating the extra hours of solitude would aid his student in working out her anger issues. He calculated that a little privacy at this time would be an efficient tool for his student to clarify and strengthen her motivations to study.

The next day Baglian brought her with him to work. Thereafter, bringing her to work with him was steady routine.

Working as a therapist, Femaron Baglian received clients in an office at the nearest public hospital, only seven minutes travel from his apartment in Drom. The majority of his patients were assigned to him by the Empaticon and the Mentaricon, the two empath ruling structures. But he kept a third of his work hours free to treat patients whom he allowed the public hospital to appoint to him from their mental health departments, after their own choice and selection. Out of a population of two-hundred thousand, Baglian and Majgen were the only empaths known to currently reside in mining habitat Drom.

The majority of Baglian's wealth didn't come from this public work. Mentarions were highly paid for the work they performed for the Government and the empathic sub-societies, but the steady wage could not compare to the fortunes wealthy persons were willing to spend on mental health. Baglian only rarely accepted private patients, but when he did he treated them in his own time, at his own home, and charged immensely for it.

He had not done that since fetching Majgen at the Mentariata. Having more money than he needed he felt that lessons on the ethics and doings of private income, could wait till his student was closer to attaining graduation.

As with all prior students, Baglian provided strict instructions that Majgen remain quiet while he worked. In between patients he would not object to questions, but Majgen hardly ever had to ask; his emanations supplied her with more information than she could have thought up questions.

Even while performing procedures, Baglian allowed her to scan his patients' minds. Majgen felt how ill Baglian's patients were, how severely they suffered before his treatment, and how immense the improvement was after every session. Seeing the effects of Baglian's work, she understood that an educated mentarion was an invaluable therapeutic tool. In the past Majgen had never been able to respect a Femaron simply for what the uniform represented. Now, however, after five years of living as a mentarion, Majgen began to think of Femarons as valuable.

Baglian relaxed between each patient. Having only Femaron-potential, he did not have the mental stamina for mind-scanning actively more than five hours a day. In order to do even that six days of the week, on a regular basis, he needed to rest his empathic senses often.

Mostly he spent his resting time in his office. Reading books or listening to music. Sometimes he spent the time drilling Majgen in her teachings. He knew very well, that she took at least parts of many of the right answers from his emanations, rather than from her own memories. Baglian didn't mind though, that made him able to use the drillings to teach her things. When evaluating how much she remembered and understood unaided, he made her shut off her senses first.

Majgen didn't talk much unless prompted to do so by inquiries or direct commands. After five friendless years in the Mentariata, she was out of the habit of having social conversations. Living with Baglian was not an encouragement for her to change that habit. His relationship to her was purely professional.

The resentment Majgen felt towards her teacher started wearing off as the respect she felt towards what he could accomplish as a mentarion grew. She didn't like him, but, nonetheless, she began to respect him. Once the respect outgrew the resentment, she found it was easy to maintain a professional relationship to him.

If she had realised that her future well-being had been the largest of Baglian's motives for making her lesson in guilt so cruel, then maybe she would have developed warmer feelings for him. But she had not perceived it. The promise he had made to her, without telling her, was no longer on top of Baglian's mind when the effect of grane wore off. Because at that time he had no longer been worried, his plan had worked to perfection. Majgen had come to truly understand, she was not yet sufficiently educated to make therapeutic decisions on her own.

----=(Colours)=----

Majgen studied a blue picture, hanging on a wall in Baglian's office. It was hand-made. Her mentor had once used one of his own memories of that picture to mind-sedate her. With his eyes it had looked different, the colour receptors in his eyes were of another phenotype than hers.

In the past, Baglian had studied the picture for many hours to gain a perception and interpretation of it strong enough to make the memory suitable for sedation. The Femaron was not planning to train her in these matters any time soon, but from his emanations Majgen had understood the basic concepts of sedation by images, and she was eager to learn.

A flickering of emotion in Baglian's emanations, distracted Majgen from her studies of the picture, and she turned her attention to him. The Femaron was sitting in a comfortable chair reading a news article.

'The article is annoying him,' she perceived.

The content of the article was logic based and too complex to translate directly through emotions, hence Majgen couldn't sense exactly what the subject was.

'Whatever the subject, it carries many different associations for him,' Majgen concluded, as she received many different memory sequences from him at once.

Majgen was not surprised to sense that he intended to finish the whole article in spite of how much it annoyed him and how ridiculous he considered it to be. It would be very unlike her mentor to let emotions deter him from a path once he had started on it. Even when the path was to read a ludicrous news article which had seemed valid and sensible until he started reading.

She turned her eyes to the painting again, and locked out the memories streaming from Baglian. She had begun to learn how to control how much she sensed from emanations. With Baglian's ideas and not always gentle pushes she had begun to grasp how to increase her unique sensitivity at will. Baglian had not shown any interest in teaching her how to perceive less. But when Majgen began to grasp how she could increase her sensitivity, she also intuitively began to understand how she could decrease it. She had learned to lock out memories from Baglian's emanations. 

'I have been his personal student for a bit more than a month now,' Majgen realised, 'Life has been peaceful lately. This morning in the shower I didn't see a single bruise on my body.'

Baglian had allowed her to use healing ointments on her back, and the bruises from the whipping had long healed. Those bruises had kept her from sleeping on her back for over a week, but they could have been worse. If Baglian had used a neutral tool to inflict the same amount of pain during that whipping, the bruising would have been far more severe, but he had used a shock-cane at intermediate setting.

'Even if he had used a neutral whip, those bruises would still be gone by now,' Majgen thought, she had extensive personal experience in bruises and their rate of healing.

From her time at the Mentariata, Majgen was accustomed to using healing ointments on various bruises, on average she had smeared some part of her body with the sticky substance nearly every second night.

What had felt strange to her this morning was that she had no bruises at all. Anywhere on her body. She couldn't remember having seen her own body completely unblemished by bruises any time in the previous five years. She was fairly sure there had been several occasions, where her body had been unmarked, but she also knew for a fact that she had never noticed it in the mirror.

Since a few months before she became fifteen, Majgen had avoided looking at her naked body in mirrors. Before her fifteenth birthday, she had assumed a habit of only using mirrors to adjust her looks when fully uniformed. Or if necessary also when applying ointment to places on her backside.

The full-wall mirror in Baglian's bathroom had been a difficult adjustment for her.

For six full hours, every four days, Majgen hated her body. The other ninety hours of every four days she tried not to think too much about her body, to avoid thinking of those six hours which returned every four days. 

That was how things had been since the last months before her fifteenth birthday. Or almost since then at least. It had taken a while before the interval was set to an unchanging four days apart. She clearly remembered the first time they had made her sign an application to personally apply for the treatment. And she clearly remembered the second time six months later too.

'The first time, I was eager to sign, once they explained the benefits to me,' Majgen remembered.

The second time, she had initially refused to sign again, when they gave her a new six months application.

'The first time they informed me I had the right to refuse. They neglected that the second time round, but I remembered.'

The second time, only her and a single Femaron had been present. While offering her the application, he had tried to convince her with the same arguments as last. But she had refused to sign.

'I clearly sensed he had no intentions of breaking the law and order me to sign, yet I don't know where I found the courage to stand my ground that day.'

After a while the Femaron had let her leave the office without signing. Majgen had gone straight to her room. Shaking from the face-off and she had been in dire need of some privacy to cry. While she cried her relief-mixed fear out on her bed, a personal message had arrived. The message had been simple:

--Tenth Ranked Student Majgen-- --The offer remains available, you may call me anytime you want a new chance to sign the application.--

At that moment she had still been determined to never sign such an application again. The first six months had been six too many for her.

Majgen's eyes kept scanning the blue picture in Baglian's office, but her facial features tightened in response to her memories. It had been harder in the beginning, she had grown more used to the 'treatment' over the last three years, but it still bothered her.

The memory of how she had finally been convinced to sign the second time, bothered her too.

----=(A freedom of choice)=----

The morning after Majgen had refused to sign the second application, a Femaron came to her room five minutes prior to wake up call for students. Majgen was startled to be woken by a man's voice rather than the usual alarm.

"Wake up, Student Majgen."

Majgen sat up so abruptly her eyes blackened to the extent she wasn't sure she had remembered to open them. When her vision returned she was met with blood-red markings on the yellow of a Femaron uniform. Her eyes travelled up to see the face of the teacher who was her primary private tutor at this time.

"I have come to give you some instructions regarding changes in your schedule, Student."

Majgen was already too scared to sense clearly, yet she sensed he had come for more and other reasons than that.

"Are you sufficiently awake to receive instructions, Student?"

"Yes, Femaron Hollo," she replied, her voice rusty with sleep.

"In one week a special class for the twelve Mentariatan rank 6 students who are above the age of seventeen will begin. Since they are so far behind those of equal age, we want to give them a better chance to improve the efficacy of their studies. We are planning to give them more intense training circumstances. So starting in ten days they will be joined in one class, which will be training unsupervised every four days, for as long as they have empathic stamina for."

Majgen was confused by the long speech. She was rank 10, she didn't understand how rank 6 student plans could affect her schedule.

"You have youth-worker experience in serving mentarions. We have decided that you will serve them drink and food during their unsupervised exercises."

'Me serve?' Majgen was not fully awake. 'Why me? I'm never assigned to serving duties.'

Femaron Hollo took a short break from talking. He would prefer if Majgen caught every word, so he would not have to repeat himself several times.

'Why do they suddenly want me to serve food and drink. They usually keep me off such duties; they still don't think it's safe.'

"You will commence those duties in ten days," Femaron Hollo reiterated, "There is another matter though. You will need to pack your things, you are moving rooms today. We are moving you to rank 1 student sleeping quarters. Now that you are no longer interested in keeping your subconscious emanations under control, we cannot allow you to move around in areas where you might run into the youngest students."

Majgen was sufficiently awake to consider that good news.

'Rank 1 students are able to resist my emanations, as long as they remain wary of me.'

For a moment she thought the Mentariata had decided to adapt circumstances to her decision not to sign the application. Femaron Hollo's next words ripped her out of that misunderstanding.




Majgen Ch. 009



"Also since you no longer show interest in getting your subconscious emanations under control. We have decided not to waste further resources on allowing you a personal voice activation code for security. In the future you can use the alarm buttons like regular students."

Majgen couldn't believe she heard him right. Shock was written all over her face and emanations. But she dared not protest, the man in front of her was a Femaron. Protests would bring her nothing but pain.

"We will at all times keep you away from youngsters, Student Majgen. We will not allow your emanations to raise conflicts in minds too young for such stress. That is why you will only be serving older rank 6 students."

'Rank 6,' Majgen thought with panic, beginning to understand the full implication of her new task, 'Unsupervised seventeen year old rank 6 students.'

"But how do you expect me to be able to serve rank 6 students safely without my voice activation code?" Majgen's voice quivered, her near panicky levels of anxiety at that prospect removed her special sensitivity completely.

"In your time at the Mentariata we have gone to great lengths for your safety, Student Majgen, but there are limits to how far we are willing to go." Femaron Hollo's face showed no signs of sympathy, neither did his emanations. "We know now that your emanations can be reduced to a far more tolerable level, with the proper treatment. But when you refuse that therapy, you completely remove our incentive to offer special circumstances for your sake."

"But you know what they will do to me, please don't take away my voice activation code. They are only rank 6 students. They can't resist the effects." Majgen was crying now, but Femaron Hollo was unmoved. Rather than responding to her words he stepped forward and slapped her face with an open palm.

"Address me properly, Student."

Majgen moved a hand to her hurting cheek, only then realising that while airing her despair she had forgotten to address the Femaron according to the mentarion ways.

"My apologies, Femaron Hollo," she sobbed, automatically.

"It is not our fault that you refuse the only treatment, which can control the factors that causes so obstructive subconscious emanations from you, Student." Femaron Hollo wiped his hand on her bed, it was wet after slapping her tear-streaked face. "And if anything happens it will not be the fault of the rank 6 students either."

After that statement, Femaron Hollo stepped away from her bed.

"I feel sorry for them," he admitted, "But in ten days your occasional self-destructive subconscious emanations should be completely out-washed by the other ones. So at least they are not at much risk of becoming involuntary murderers. It is however very likely that they will..." Hollo shrugged rather than finishing the sentence. He agreed with the course of action chosen, and had not objected to delivering the message. There were limits, however, to what he was willing to say to a fourteen year old girl.

Majgen knew exactly what it was the rank 6 students were likely to do. A sudden urge to vomit coursed through her.

"Pack your belongings. Stay in your room till someone comes to fetch you. You are excused from all planned classes until further notice." With those words Femaron Hollo turned and left the room.

In spite of knowing what was bound to happen, Majgen at first tried to stick to her resolution. She had begun her fourth day since last treatment the morning Femaron Hollo had woken her.

Already on the fifth day some of the Rank 1 students she passed began to show signs of being affected by her emanations. Even the ones who obviously resisted the effects stared at her and whispered to their mates. Majgen continued to stick to her resolution all the way to the eight day after her last treatment.

That day she affected a rank 1 student who hadn't seen her approaching. Unnoticed by either of them her emanations began affecting him, while she drank from a water fountain next to the vendor machine he was pulling a drink from. He accidentally spilled half his drink on himself and was so distracted by shaking the liquid of the cloak part of his uniform, that he didn't notice her effect on him until it was too late.

Majgen perceived the change in his emanations in time to start running before he could grab hold of her. Yet she would not have been able to escape the adult rank 1 student if other students had not noticed the danger too, and intercepted the hypnotised young man.

He screamed with rage as his pursuit was halted by first one and then several other rank 1 students. Majgen kept running till she could no longer hear him. And then she ran some more, to escape a panicked feeling that maybe he would wrestle loose and resume the pursuit.

That same evening she signed the application.

----=(Potential)=----

There were hundreds of thin but visible, nearly parallel lines in the blue picture. Majgen wondered how it had been made. She had never even seen a painting brush. Drawing with paint and brush was an unusual art-form at her time.

'Femaron Baglian's emanations feels weak right now,' Majgen noticed, 'he has worked himself close to the limit of his empathic abilities. He still has enough left in him for the last patient of the day, though.'

Majgen was fully aware her mentor was proud of his ability to balance his work. He hardly ever had to send late-afternoon patients home without at least a quick scan. Many mentarions working as therapists informed late-afternoon patients, up front, that there was a risk they might not receive empathic attention as scheduled, Baglian never resorted to such warnings.

'Femaron Baglian's mental stamina fades during the day, even just from normal close-range mind-scans. I'm always scanning as many as I get a chance to, but I can't remember my own senses ever running dry.' 

Majgen focused on Baglian's emanations again, to see if he was thirsty. She had made a habit of serving him before he noticed he wanted something himself.

'He has no physical needs right now.'

Her mind returned to the absence of bruises on her body. Contemplations on the significance or lack of same of that observation.

'I guess it means I am adapting.' Her eyes tracked the lines on the canvas, noting different effects of shadows on different shades of blue. 'In his opinion I have begun to learn swiftly now. But how long will it take for me to learn to do what he does?' It felt strange for her to consider a possible future of being equal to a Femaron.

A moment she tried to push away thoughts of ever gaining more than graduate rank.

Around one year ago she had given up hopes of even graduating. While studying the blue picture and thinking of her un-bruised body, she realised that right now she not only had hope she would graduate. She now believed she would, eventually, with Baglian's aid.

'If I can graduate to Etaron, then I can also achieve higher rank than that.'

She glanced at her teacher over her shoulder. He was reading, his emanations indicated he was most likely still on the same ludicrous article.

'I have more mentarion potential than Femaron Baglian.'

Majgen turned her eyes to the blue in front of her again and frowned.

'But how much more?'

Majgen realised she would like to gain as high a rank as possible. Her life would be safer that way. Even amongst graduated mentarions the higher ranked ones had a certain amount of freedom to punish lower ranked mentarions without trial.

'I don't even know how mentarion potential is determined. Most rank 10 students have some general idea how high their mentarion potential is, but I don't.'

Relief - of the type following the completion of an uncomfortable task - suddenly became dominant in Baglian's emanations. Majgen smiled to herself, at times she considered her teacher's self-discipline to be inconsequential. Slowly, she opened her perception of his emanations to the full extent again.

For a moment she let herself be carried away by his memories, as the beginning of an exercise Baglian had invented and ordered her to perform at least five times a day. She was the only one who was able to read memories from emanations, hence no standard exercises existed for practising this ability - until Baglian began inventing them.

Majgen counted each new memory as she was plunged into it, in a seemingly random pattern.

'One; I am a young man meeting a politician in person. Two; I am a middle-aged man awaiting an important long range conversation. Three; I am a child watching a news broadcast with my parents. No not parents, empathic foster-parents. Four; I am.. No. Ignore the fourth memory. Only three memories at a time.'

She focused on remembering the first memory to come to her and then tried to find it in Baglian's emanations again. It was difficult. There were so many random feelings, associations, and memories in there. When she just allowed his emanations to fill her uncontrolled it felt like disappearing into who he was and had been. When instead she tried to control what she sensed from him, without fully blocking his memories out, it felt very different. Unpleasant actually. It felt like she was drowning in a river of Baglian. Majgen had never seen a river and would not have recognised that analogy, but she was able to swim - swimming in pools were a favoured form of exercise - and she compared it to water too.

'I must learn to swim,' she thought, 'but what is up and what is down?'

When she finally re-found the memory, she hung on to it. Following it as far as it was present in the emanation. That way she saw more of it than she had the first time. Afterwards she repeated the procedure with the two other memories.

After completing the exercise, Majgen exhaled deeply with relief.

'Politics, all three memories were related to politics in general, local politics more specifically.'

While she went through the exercise, her mentor had finished an article which had been more interesting to him, than the 'ludicrous' one. In his basic emanations Majgen could sense he was in a significantly better mood now. Also he was between articles, browsing headlines to choose more reading.

'Now would be a good time to ask a question,' Majgen decided, and turned to face in Baglian's direction before speaking.

"May I ask a question, Femaron Baglian?"

Baglian raised his eyes from his wallet, to look at his student.

"Go ahead." He often refrained from using standard mentarion forms of address when they were alone. Majgen had not needed to test to be certain he would not tolerate the same informality from her.

"What is my mentarion potential, Femaron?" she asked, keeping her senses open to perceive more than his words. Often when she asked him a question, she knew the reply sooner than he spoke.

An image appeared very sharply in Baglian's emanations, the moment she asked. It was the face of a timeless looking woman, with sparkling naturally green eyes and dark brown hair. There was something beautifully enigmatic and serious about her expression. 

The face had been on a poster which Baglian had received for his ninth birthday. At the age of ten Baglian was enrolled in the Cogniata, one of the mentarion schools, and had taken the poster with him to hang in his shared room. It had reminded him of his foster-parents, as well as the reason he no longer lived with them.

The poster had had a simple text on it: Mentarion adhere to your duty.

To Majgen there was something familiar about the face on the poster, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Your potential has not been estimated precisely, Student Majgen," Baglian stated.

'That statement is barely true in his own opinion.' Majgen analysed the discrepancies in her mentors emanations. 'He has suspicions about my potential. No. He is almost sure about my potential, but he wants to keep the knowledge from me. Why would he want to do that?'

Baglian leaned back and allowed himself to sense his student's emotions. He would have liked to look directly into her mind, but he needed to save his strength for his last patient. By now, he was sufficiently familiar with his student to recognise the emotional pattern she displayed when searching for specific information in his emanations.

'I didn't expect her to ask this question for at least another few weeks. She almost always progress faster than I expect,' he thought to himself.

Majgen didn't catch that particular line of thought from him, she was trying to figure out what Baglian believed her mentarion potential to be. Words as gradual as rank designations did not translate into emotions easily. Concepts such as 'higher potential', 'same potential' and 'less potential' than someone she could grasp from him. But at first that did not give her a good indication in itself; his emanations only gave her two comparisons. The first one she already knew:

'Higher potential than me.' From Baglian's point of view.

The second was:

'Higher potential than the woman depicted on the poster.'

As long as Majgen could not figure out who the woman on the poster was, she couldn't use that comparison for anything. The intensity and amounts of memories in Baglian's emanations had increased since she asked her question. That did not help her pinpoint the full answer.

Suddenly she made a connection.

'That poster!' She had seen similar posters on the Mentariata. 'Same poster different face. No, same face just older. Much older. Grey-white hair, wrinkles, but same eyes.' And Majgen knew exactly who the woman on the posters she had seen at the Mentariata was. Majgen paled. The woman on the posters was Niaron Larks.

"You think I have Niaron-potential, Femaron Baglian." The way she said it, it sounded more like an accusation than a realisation.

'Higher,' Majgen perceived, 'he thinks my potential is higher.'

"There is no higher rank than Niaron, Femaron," Majgen stated, as if Baglian had spoken his opinion.

Baglian moved forward in his chair, not sure what he was going to say to his student.

'There could be,' he thought, 'it would be called Tiaron. No one has ever been given that rank, but that is what it would be called.'

Majgen only caught the meaning of the first sentence, the rest did not translate emotionally. Yet the first sentence alone was enough to make her head spin.

"You are unique, tenth ranked Student Majgen Rahan," Baglian said, "Don't let it get to your head. You have a very far way to go. And not all mentarions are able to reach the rank of their potential."

Baglian picked up his wallet again, to return focus to his articles.

'Dread to think the havoc she'd spread if she gained Tiaron, or even Niaron, rank without gaining more political understanding first,' he thought to himself.

Baglian didn't think Majgen would catch that thought through his emanations, he considered it to be too logical for such translation. But she did, partially.

'He feels it would be disastrous for society if I had the rank of my potential now. That it will be a disaster if I gain Niaron rank, before I have learned... Learned what?'

She tried to find out what it was she needed to learn, but instead she came across another association in Baglian's emanations.

'He is convinced that... and also sure that any - higher ranked than him - mentarions who are - sufficiently informed - are also convinced that... I am... valuable...'

Majgen tried to understand the associations. She was reminded of the only other adult tenth ranked student at the Mentariata. A man, who was like a young child emotionally, and little more than a baby intellectually. Most mentarions who were mentally under-developed like him were given back to the Empaticon. The weaker empaths often found good use for them.

'They kept him at the Mentariata because he was so strong. Ottearon potential some said. He was too valuable. It's similar, I'm too valuable too. Too valuable to waste. But if I'm also dangerous?' Majgen's thoughts were churning, her instinct, the intelligent one told her she was close to understanding something.

Baglian had found a new article to read. He was halfway through it before Majgen found the right question:

"What will happen if I never adopt the political views of the Mentaricon, Femaron Baglian?"

Her mentor had never gone through that exact line of thought. Now that she asked, however, he couldn't help but apply his superior political understanding to the possibility.

'In the mentarion society rank and political power goes hand in hand. A Niaron with her naive and childish approach to the universe would be an immense liability to the mentarion ways. She wouldn't be allowed to reach Niaron rank. Nor Ottearon or Syvaron.'

Once Baglian's mind had gone down that track it went on.

'But how would a mentarion who had the discipline, skill and power to reach Syvaron rank be kept at Seksaron rank? Empaths would notice, in particular other mentarions would notice if a Seksaron deserving of Syvaron rank was kept back. That would also happen if she was held at lower ranks. People would talk, rumours of corruption and favouritism would spread.'

Majgen could only follow parts of Baglian's logic through his emanations. But she filled in most of the blanks that didn't translate successfully herself.

'At this time she is a lowly student, easy to hide. She has no means to make the slightest spectacle of herself. When she becomes an Etaron, and interacts more equally with other graduated mentarions knowledge of her abilities will spread like an air-born virus. The girl is not stupid. And she has a good potential for developing self-discipline to the extent needed to rise high in rank. She has the makings to learn what it takes to pass the graduate rank up tests. To reach her maximum potential one day. So in reality the road to political instability will begin as soon as she graduates.' Baglian frowned at that realisation. 

'Am I the first to consider this?' He looked at his student, trying to see what other mentarions would.

'An intelligent adult wearing a children's uniform. She lived in constant anxiety in the Mentariata. The fear and her abuse of trivial thinking numbed her wits. But was the effect really strong enough to make her less perceptive than a ten year old?' He did not need to spare many seconds on that thought, not with his knowledge of how well Majgen functioned even while having a clear cut panic attack.

'No. She should have advanced from rank 10 long ago. Maybe not as fast as average mentarion students. But she should have advanced. Why is she still rank 10?' If Baglian hadn't grown accustomed to ignoring the fact that Majgen could follow almost everything he thought of, then maybe he would have thought of leaving her presence before completing his contemplations. But then again, neither of them had realised that Majgen followed contemplations with more clarity while they were being made, than in retrospect.

Baglian started remembering what he had seen in her papers regarding her grades. When he had studied her papers, he had thought lowly of her, because of her daydream of expulsion. He had subconsciously considered the tenth student rank appropriate for such a mentarion, hence he had not looked for answers as to why she was still rank 10.

For a moment he completely forgot that Majgen had been the one who asked the question, which had started this train of thought. He started clicking away at his wallet, hiding the list of articles to open Majgen's papers instead. This time he didn't just look at the humiliatingly low grades, he looked at which courses she had been offered. Both as seminars and with private tutors.




Majgen Ch. 009



A part of him expected to find what he did:

'She has not been allowed to take exams in any of the subjects that rank 10 students are normally educated in. And only a third of the rank 10 subjects has been offered to her in any form of teaching.' Baglian studied the list of Majgen's academic progress and lack of same more closely.

'The rank 10 subjects she has received any teaching in, are not marked with normal grades. A few are marked 'low understanding' the rest has no comments what so ever regarding how much she learned.'

The conclusion was obvious to Baglian.

'She was kept at rank 10 deliberately. At that low rank students have no rights to demand exam access, and she wouldn't have known to do so either. If she had realised what was going on she wouldn't have dared make a spectacle of it. Might not have helped her if she had. Depends how deep the conspiracy to keep her there was rooted.'

Baglian's analytical mind followed that line of thought.

'Was the whole staff in on it? No. She would have sensed that. Nobody can keep secrets like that from Majgen Rahan. Not without a helmet. Was Ottearon Weissme in on it? He has displayed personal professional interest in Student Majgen. He contacted me personally, to ensure that I would accept her. He was her personal student counsellor the first year, so at least the first year Weissme was responsible for not giving her grades on any rank 10 subjects.'

Majgen had felt herself go very cold, when she understood Baglian's logic regarding her rank. But her discomfort increased severely when Baglian began making conclusions regarding Ottearon Weissme's participation to such an end.

'Ottearon Weissme cared about me!' Her emotions cried to her in protest, but she couldn't convince herself Baglian was wrong.

The distress his student felt, cut through Baglian's contemplations, yet he couldn't stop himself from making more conclusions.

'Only Ottearon Weissme would know his school and his staff well enough, to be able to manipulate a students program this way without letting the normal teachers realise what was going on.'

"Shut off your senses, Student Majgen," he ordered, he had a strong feeling that she already knew more from his speculations than she was meant to know.

Majgen obeyed instantly, but she wasn't happy about the command, she wanted to know more. Baglian left the office, he didn't want to rely on her to remain obedient just then.

'Holding a mentarion back from their progress that way, is a direct violation of several mentarion specific laws. And it is against the mentarion ways. If this comes out it will be a scandal within the mentarion subculture. It will be in the outside society too. Not to mention that it will be practically impossible to halt Majgen's progress in rank after that point.' Baglian wasn't sure which of those two scenarios frightened him the most.

'She is not ready to lead the mentarion nation into anything but chaos. She might never be. She doesn't even have an interest in politics. All she cares about is therapeutic measures.'

Baglian locked the door to his office with Majgen inside. He needed to make a call in private.

He could keep Majgen quiet, he could make sure that she didn't share her new knowledge with anyone. But if they should at some point run into mentarions of higher rank than him. Then he could not at this time prevent such persons from mind-scanning Majgen, and in her mind they might very easily come across that particular knowledge.

----=(To communicate long range without being direct)=----

Ottearon Weissme strode through the hallways of the Mentariata at an unusually swift pace. His communicator had beeped in the middle of a staff-meeting. Very few things could make his communicator beep during a meeting. All of them had one thing in common though, they were cause for urgency. He had not checked what type of emergency this was yet. If possible he always kept such discoveries for circumstances of complete privacy.

Less than two minutes after the beeping, Weissme reached his personal quarters. He was breathing heavy from the fast pace. As soon as the door shut behind him he checked his communicator.

'Femaron Baglian's emergency line,' Antwoine Weissme thought, 'Well it could be worse.' 

He had given Femaron Baglian two lines. One for normal informative or inquisitive calls. One for absolute emergencies. Back when he had given the second line, Baglian had appeared surprised. But he had not asked what kind of absolutely emergency, would require the Ottearon to be notified so swiftly that an emergency number should be needed.

'Most likely some hypersensitive Seksaron came by Drom and is beating the living daylights out of Student Majgen Rahan in front of Femaron Baglian.'

Ottearon Weissme was well aware how most mentarions reacted when Majgen inadvertently invaded their privacy.

'I should have given Baglian's emergency calls a different ring tone. That kind of call I can take without complete privacy. Hope I'm not too late, the poor girl has suffered more than plenty physical pain for one lifetime.'

Ottearon Weissme answered the call without further delay.

"Ottearon Weissme here."

"Greetings Ottearon Weissme, this is Femaron Baglian," Baglian's voice spoke from the communicator. He sounded as dispassionate as ever, not like a man who was about to speak of a life and death emergency. Weissme briefly allowed himself the luxury of assuming Baglian had called the wrong number by mistake.

"Do you realise you called on an emergency line, Femaron Baglian?"

"Oh. Did I interrupt something important, Ottearon?"

Weissme noticed there were no signs of neither surprise nor curiosity in Baglian's voice, and his mouth went dry.

"I interrupted a staff-meeting to take this call," Weissme explained, still hanging on to a faint hope of a misunderstanding.

"Terribly sorry for the inconvenience," Baglian's voice stated dryly, "Since your meeting has already been halted, we might as well talk some, Ottearon Weissme."

Weissme faint hopes started to vanish completely, but he still clung on to a slight shred.

'Don't forget you are talking to what may be the most arrogant man in the universe,' he told himself.

"Yes, we might as well, Femaron," Weissme said, managing to almost sound friendly.

"Today I was looking a bit at my student's old grades and classes. I noticed a few things. Which I thought I should run by you sometime." Baglian's words added to the bad feeling, which was growing in Weissme's gut.

"Oh, well that sounds interesting. Maybe we should talk about that sometime, Femaron." 

Weissme knew very well that Baglian did not have access to highly encrypted lines of communication, and Weissme was not comfortable talking about the delicate subject of Majgen's grades on a normal line.

"Maybe even soon, Ottearon," Baglian said tonelessly. His tone would make the words seem cryptic to anyone who did not have the gnawing suspicion which Weissme did.

"Without delving too deep into the tedious subject of old study plans just now, maybe you could tell me a little more about the subject of this future talk, Femaron?"

"I am a teacher, Ottearon. Teachers like to look at their students grades." Baglian coughed a bit, it seemed to Weissme that the Femaron was trying to make a fake break. When Baglian continued Weissme was sure Baglian had coughed to split the sentence.

"Some grades were lacking, Ottearon Weissme."

'Grief, he must have noticed the missing tenth rank classes,' Weissme concluded to himself, though he had suspected as much.

"Yes, I am aware of the sorry situation, Femaron Baglian," Ottearon Weissme said managing to sound apologetic.

"I also came to think of study. Study-plans..." Baglian sounded like he was choking on something, with a new coughing fit. Weissme was sure the Femaron had not developed a sudden lung disease. "...that I need to make for her."

'Study-plans,' Weissme thought, ignoring the words after the cough, 'second hint, in case I missed the first I guess.'

"Today I went through some contemplations, I had not made earlier, Ottearon Weissme," Baglian finished tonelessly.

'Obviously,' Weissme thought, 'else we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?'

"Have you seen your student since then?" Ottearon Weissme asked without beating around the bush. This time not bothering to make his voice sound like he was talking about unimportant details of student studies.

"She was with me at the time."

Weissme's hand tightened its grip on the communicator. He had hoped that Baglian had made his conclusions while alone and not yet seen Majgen since. Had hoped that Majgen was still ignorant on those matters. He remained quiet a while, to choose a proper course of action.

'I have to get them both under secure conditions as soon as possible. Drom is less than two days travel with fast direct flight.'

"After five years at the Mentariata, Drom must have been quite a change for the young woman, Femaron. She is so used to being around mentarions all the time. I heard that you and her are the only empaths on Drom, that must have been quite a change for her, Femaron Baglian?"

"Indeed. We have not met other empaths since we arrived here. Quite different than being at the Mentariata, Ottearon Weissme."

Weissme was relieved to be assured that the situation was not fully out of hand.

"A drastic change in life can be very exhausting. Maybe some vacation would do your student some good. You have a very nice apartment on Drom don't you, Femaron Baglian?"

"Yes, Ottearon Weissme."

Antwoine Weissme dared not be subtle with his final instruction.

"Why don't you and your student relax at your apartment for a few days. Sometimes ones own home is the best holiday resort."

"It is as if you read my mind, Ottearon. That was exactly what I had planned. Will you contact me soon, Ottearon Weissme?"

"Yes. I will, Femaron."

"I look forward to hearing from you then, Ottearon Weissme."

----=(of Men and Politicians)=----

Baglian and Majgen were eating breakfast. Both were quiet. They had not talked to each other for more than a day and two nights. Baglian had served himself, to not have to speak to the young woman. Her empathic senses were gone again.

Baglian had called her prior to fetching her at his office, and had ordered her to keep her senses shut off.

She had obeyed. Her senses had still been off while they went to Baglian's apartment together. And when they arrived he had instructed her to keep them off. That way Baglian had been able to poison her, he had put grane in her drink while she wasn't watching. 

As soon as Majgen had drunk enough to be non-empathic for some days Baglian had locked her in her room. Not offering a single word as explanation.

Majgen had not understood what he had done until her senses began clicking on and off.

An hour later he had let her out of her room again. She had rushed him with questions. When he refused to answer any. Majgen had dared his wrath by moving on to accusations. Baglian had tolerated her justly insolent behaviour for a few minutes. But no longer than that.

He had ended her tirades with a single blow.

Then Baglian had very calmly and clearly explained exactly what he would do if she bothered him further.

Majgen had not spoken since.

Neither had Baglian. He felt dirty. He had betrayed the mentarion ways. As he looked across the table at the apathetic appearance of his student, the fact that he had done it for the sake of the mentarion ways was only a small consolation.

'Any empath has a duty to serve society, but no empath may be kept as a slave.' The prime directive of the empath societies, tortured Baglian's thoughts.

Majgen did not know what would happen to her. She understood that Baglian was waiting for something to happen, but she didn't know what. At this time she didn't really care. Ottearon Weissme had been the only person whom she thought to have cared for her since her parents died. Gaining the knowledge that he was the one who had doomed her to spend so many years as a rank 10 student, had been a very hard blow. That blow had been followed by betrayal from Baglian's side. Now there was no faith left in her.

There were no tears in her. There had been no tears since she had been locked in her room while the grane began working. Her eyes were not red, only expressionless. Her hair was tangled and beginning to grease. Majgen had not bathed since they came back to the apartment. She had not touched a comb, nor changed clothes, nor slept. She just didn't care. Appearances didn't matter. She only had one desire left, and that was impossible.

'I wish I had died at Hawlun too.' The thought appeared in her mind from time to time, but even that thought didn't move her much emotionally. It was just a dry fact. Like so many other dry facts that came to her.

'I have no one. And no one loves me. I am a nobody. I am all alone.'

Majgen was not hungry, she was not afraid of pain either, yet she ate. She assumed that if she didn't eat on her own, then he might tell her to and she had no desire to hear his voice ever again.

As usual, Baglian had a well-groomed appearance, but his facial features were hard, there was no sign of the dispassionate expression usually so characteristic for him. A stern mask of mentarion dignity, was to him a more appropriate choice than letting his face display his inner conflict.

A two tone clinging sound interrupted their meal. Baglian had been biting a fruit filled bun. When the sound filled the quiet living-room he deposited the bun on his plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He finished chewing and swallowed what was in his mouth, before rising and walking to the foyer.

Majgen stopped eating when Baglian did.

The front door visual revealed that Ottearon Weissme, and a Syvaron, and a Femaron were waiting in the common hall on the other side of door. Baglian opened without further hesitation.

"Greetings," Baglian said, and bowed in the general direction of the mentarions. Since they were of differing ranks there was no singular proper title with which to greet the group.

"Greetings, Femaron Baglian," Ottearon Weissme replied, "Would you and your student care to come with us?"

"Certainly, Ottearon Weissme." After speaking Baglian turned around to go back for Majgen.

"Femaron Baglian," Weissme called, causing Baglian to turn back to face him again, "Tell her to shut her senses off."

"My student has ingested grane, her empathic abilities won't return the next several days, Ottearon Weissme," Baglian informed, then he turned once again.

Baglian walked back to the living-room and went to his student. He pulled her hood up to cover her disorganised hair. He took a moment to tug the hood properly in place, so it would cover as much of her face as possible too.

"Stand up," he ordered.

Majgen obeyed and stood still while Baglian brushed crumbs of her uniform and straightened it to order. The material the cloak was made of was practically un-crease-able; by the time Baglian was done Majgen was almost presentable.

"Follow me, Student," Baglian ordered and walked back to Weissme and the other two mentarions. Majgen followed. She did not care where they were going, but felt no urge to disobey either.

The mentarions gathered in the hallway. With a smooth arm motion Ottearon Weissme invited Femaron Baglian to walk next to him, then lead the way to the elevator. Majgen followed Baglian like she was used to. The other two stayed behind Majgen to keep an eye on her.

The Syvaron kept more than an eye on her though, he was in her mind monitoring her for rebellious intents. Ready to take over control if the need should arise.

They took the elevator directly to the parking floor where another Femaron was waiting with a rented wagon. None of them spoke. Not while leaving the elevator, nor when entering the wagon. And they all remained quiet while the Femaron in the driver seat drove them to Drom's only spaceport.

Ottearon Weissme and the others had travelled from Caesar to Drom in one of the Mentariata's smaller first class passenger transports. Its passenger section was polymorphic and split in two floors, offering in total only four-hundred square-metres of passenger floor. The small passenger transport had its own shuttle though. Saving the mentarions the trouble of co-operating with spaceport personnel in arranging shuttle transport to the ship.

As soon as the shuttle docked with the ship, the mentarions were legally on Mentariata grounds. Weissme mentally breathed a sigh of relief, without letting his body do the same.

"Syvaron Delk, since you and Femaron Baglian are already acquainted I will let you debrief him, while I debrief Student Majgen," Ottearon Weissme said, as a door opened in the side of the shuttle allowing them passage to the ship.

Femaron Baglian and Syvaron Delk were indeed acquainted, many years back the then Etaron Delk had spent a full year as Baglian's personal student.

"Certainly, Ottearon Weissme," Delk confirmed the order in a neutral tone, then turned to Baglian, "Follow me, Femaron Baglian."

Being a Syvaron, Delk was higher rank than Baglian. There was no need for him to phrase the words as anything other than an order.

Syvaron Delk lead Femaron Baglian onto the ship and to the right. Ottearon Weissme grabbed Student Majgen by the arm to stop her from following Baglian. The Ottearon had scanned her mind on and off since the mentarions had left the floor of Baglian's apartment. Weissme wasn't sure she would notice verbal instructions. So he hung on to her arm while leading her onto the ship and to the left.

*  Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID ellynei)

I must admit, at this time the small amount of feedback on Majgen chapters is somewhat disconcerting. I appreciate the votes, I do, every single one of them, (apart from maybe the one-star-vote somebody put on chapter 006 without adding a comment), but votes don't tell me much.

Thank you so very much all three of you who have admitted to reading chapters one to eight, I hope all three of you read and enjoyed chapter 009 too. (I know the first one of you did already, thanks for proofing D. :) )

Ok here we go:

I beg and plea, on my hurting knees, for feedback.

Did you like?

Did you not? If so is there anything you think I should improve? 



Majgen Ch. 010



----=(A cosy room)=----

Majgen was alone.

The room Ottearon Weissme had led her to was beautifully decorated, elaborate decorations were unusual in polymorphic passenger suites, but the designers hired by the Mentariata often strayed from what was usual. The combination of great amounts of money and requests for excellence often had such effects on designers at Majgen's time.

This setting had been named 'Cosy Comfort in Mellow Shades of Pink and Red' by its designer. It was a suitable name.

Majgen did not notice the decorations, nor the artistically placed furniture. She did not pay heed to the colouring either. However, even without her attention the surroundings still affected her. The soft pleasant lighting and colours awoke old memories in her, memories of feeling safe. All memories she had that associated to such feelings were more than five years old, most of them were more than thirteen years old.

The memories were painful to her because safety and happiness were not parts of her current life.

She was not as unaware of the present as she would have liked to be, in Baglian's somewhat cold and functional apartment it had been easy for her to distance herself from reality and he had let her do that, but in this cosy room designed for soul warming relaxation it was hard to remain distant and detached from everything.

Ottearon Weissme had scanned her mind thoroughly, his hands had felt warm against her ears. The memory of that disturbed her too, because it reminded her of her meetings with him when she had been new to the Mentariata.

'I guess I loved him back then. Simply because he seemed to care a little bit about me,' she thought to herself. She was uncomfortable with the notion of thinking coherently again.

'I guess the break is over, I guess my mind didn't crack, I guess my sorry excuse for a life will continue yet again.'

Tenth ranked Student Majgen Rahan was alone in the cosy room, Ottearon Weissme had left after scanning her. He had instructed her to seat herself in one of the comfortable chairs, before leaving he had also placed a large bottle of water as well as a glass in front of her on a small table.

'I guess I will get thirsty eventually,' she thought, 'Did he do something in my mind to keep me sane? I guess going crazy is not a refuge I would ever be allowed to run to.'

----=(A Talk)=----

"Student Majgen is still mentally sound," Ottearon Weissme explained, "I don't know where she finds the strength to retain her warm personality, but she is still the caring girl I remember from so long ago. In spite of the hardships she has been through I think she will become an exceptional woman in time."

"She is not a child, Ottearon," Femaron Baglian stated.

Weissme turned his eyes to Baglian, somewhat annoyed, his comment had primarily been meant for Syvaron Delk, his long time friend and confidant.

"I am perfectly aware of Student Majgen Rahan's age, Femaron." There was a chill to Weissme's tone when he addressed the Femaron, he had no warm feelings towards the man he had used in an attempt to solve the Majgen-problem. Weissme leaned back in his chair and raised his hands to his brows, rubbing them while getting control of his emotions.

'It's not Femaron Baglian's fault that our plans failed, not his fault that we underestimated his analytical abilities regarding matters of politics,' Weissme chided himself.

"Her childhood ended long ago," Weissme said, hanging on to his decision to speak openly in spite of Baglian's presence, "but she has not had opportunity to mature to adulthood either."

"What are your plans for her now, Ottearon Weissme?" Baglian asked.

"I will make her my personal student now, Femaron, something I should have done long ago."

"You intend to bring her back to the Mentariata, Ottearon?" Baglian's disapproval of such a possibility was clear in his emanations, but not in his tone.

"No. At least not for longer periods at a time, in the last several years I've attended many duties off Mentariata grounds, I do not spend much time at the school nowadays, so neither will she." Weissme felt old, he missed the relative simplicity of his duties in the years just prior to the day Majgen had entered his life.

"Rico, I feel tired, would you fetch me some mocca please?" At Ottearon Weissme's request Syvaron Rico Delk rose from his seat.

"Certainly Antwoine. Would you care for some mocca too, Femaron Baglian?"

"Yes mocca would be nice, Syvaron Delk."

"I think I remember how you like your mocca, Femaron, not that I haven't tried my best to forget. I still get nervous every time I need to add sugar to a dark hot drink," Delk's last statement brought a short glint of humour to Weissme's face. Delk had hoped to draw a small laugh out of his friend, he knew how burdened the Ottearon was by feelings of guilt and had hoped to give the man at least a few seconds reprieve from those emotions.

Rico Delk walked the few paces to the drink cabinet and began heating water to brew the desired beverages.

"Your dislike for sugar as sweetener in mocca has become quite legendary in certain circuits, Femaron," Ottearon Weissme informed Baglian.

"Actually, Ottearon, I am unable to taste the difference between sugar and other sweeteners in mocca. In fact I quite often use white sugar instead of sweetener, for the extra energy," Baglian admitted and didn't twitch a muscle when Syvaron Delk, who was distracted by his words, accidentally knocked several clean drink glasses into the sink at the cabinet causing a brief racket of noise.

"Grief!" Syvaron Delk exclaimed and started lifting the glasses out of the sink one by one.

"Are you injured Rico?" Weissme asked with a soft laugh.

"Only my pride, only my pride. Twenty years is too little time to spend away from ones former personal teacher. I wonder who is more embarrassed that I still can't seem to make mocca without accidents, him or me." Delk's words caused genuine laughter to bubble out of Weissme. While still laughing Weissme turned his attention back to Femaron Baglian.

"I have come across statements that you dislike sugar severely, Femaron. From a source I normally consider quite reliable."

"I assume you are referring to Syvaron Delk, Ottearon?"

"Indeed."

"Actually I never claimed to him that I don't like sugar, rather I reminded him that I had told him to use sweetener, Ottearon."

"Reminded!?" Delk exclaimed with exaggerated astonishment, doing his best to increase the humorous impact of Baglian's disclosure. Most humans understood the rejuvenating effects of laughter.

"Every student is different, to some a word is a sufficient reminder, others need stronger enticement to be able to remember, Syvaron Delk," Baglian said dispassionately.

Both Weissme and Delk had mind shields up, Baglian had his own up too, but he still understood the duality of Delk's comments. He was sure that Delk's primary motivation, for these referrals to the past, was to take the Ottearon's mind off his worries for a moment. Baglian also felt certain that the Syvaron would consider a chance to ridicule his old mentor to be an extra bonus, however that aspect didn't bother Femaron Baglian.

Syvaron Delk had reached the highest obtainable rank for his potential only five years after he had left Baglian's custody. The Femaron knew that he had done a good job in training Delk. Whether or not Delk approved of the treatment he had received from Baglian, while he had been his student, was inessential to Femaron Baglian.

"You must have considered me to be near retarded, Femaron, for me to be in need of such strong reminders."

"Not retarded, Syvaron, rather the word would be sloppy," Baglian said, "you were highly talented and intelligent."

"Oh?" Syvaron Delk was surprised at the praise, back when he had been Baglian's student, the Femaron had never paid him a single compliment.

"You were nearly twenty years old when you obtained Etaron rank, Syvaron Delk," Baglian continued, "normally that is a fine age to become Etaron, but a man with your abilities could have obtained graduation several years sooner. However, you were an ill-motivated and sloppy student."

"Ill-motivated and sloppy are not traits I would ever apply to Syvaron Delk, Femaron Baglian," Weissme said in defence of his friend, his opinion of Baglian declined with what he considered to be poor assessment on the Femaron's part.

"Of course not, I cured him of those traits within the first half year of his training under me," Baglian stated matter of factly.

Ottearon Weissme studied the Femaron and the Syvaron in turn, he had never before wondered why Delk had been able to reach Syvaron rank at such an exceptionally young age, in spite of not having been unusually young at his graduation.

The three mentarions were quiet some moments while Delk finished brewing mocca and brought the full cups back.

Ottearon Antwoine Weissme was the first to break the silence.

"Majgen will most likely break out of her near shock condition within few days, if she hasn't already. However, I fear she will develop a depression within days. I don't know how to add even a hint of happiness or hope to her life."

"She has developed a sense of duty over the last month," Baglian said, "she is quite capable of functioning under emotional pressure, you should still be able to train her while she is depressed."

"There is more to life than duty, Femaron Baglian," Weissme snapped. He was not fond of the arrogant Femaron.

"Indeed, but what good will that do her right now?" Baglian retorted.

"I want her to have a full life, Femaron, not force her into a life long existence as a semi-slave." There was venom in the Ottearon's voice, a not well hidden accusation aimed at Baglian's priorities.

"Did you have that sentiment in mind when you chose to obstruct the natural development of her sexuality, Ottearon Weissme?" Baglian asked, the ice in his voice matched Weissme's venom. The rage those words woke in Weissme, was unmistakably evident in the Ottearon's emanations, a mentarion with less courage than Baglian would have started apologising in a grovelling manner upon sensing such feelings in a higher ranking mentarion. Baglian, however, simply ceased talking and took a fresh sip of his mocca.

"And what thoughts have you had regarding me obstructing Student Majgen's sexuality?" Weissme asked.

"Until now your part in the matter was only a suspicion, Ottearon," Baglian said and continued to answer the question, "Even when scanning for causality in retrospect it was evident that Student Majgen's sexuality was primed at a late age. To me it seemed it must have been even clearer back when she was in her early teens."

"You condemn the decision I made back then, Femaron?"

"I am not sure I would have done the same, but I am not sure I wouldn't have either." Baglian took another sip of his mocca and continued, "My point, however, was not to state whether or not it was the right decision. My point was that I am not the one who has taken the harshest decisions regarding Student Majgen's well-being. She may have the right to judge me for how I weigh right and wrong in regards to duty and more humane morals. You, however, do not, Ottearon Weissme."

Syvaron Delk admired Femaron Baglian's bravery, he had never heard any mentarion speak to an Ottearon in that manner, but he did not appreciate the moral berating his friend was receiving from the arrogant Femaron.

'Antwoine suffers too much from his own feelings of guilt already, he really shouldn't be burdened further by accusations from others. Especially not Baglian.' As Delk feared Weissme's rage quickly subsided to be replaced with feelings of fatigue and guilt.

"So how are things with her obstructed sexuality these days, Femaron Baglian?" There were no signs of hope for good news in Weissme's voice.

"As you probably know the priming was complete before she became my student, Ottearon."

Weissme nodded a tired affirmative to those words, and Baglian continued, "As far as I could tell in a retrospective manner, her sexuality would most likely have developed into a versatile maybe even balanced pattern, if she had been allowed to mature in those areas without intervention."

Again Weissme offered a dreary nod.

"Yes, that description fits what we were informed back then," Syvaron Delk said, his intention was not simply to confirm Baglian's words, rather his words had the purpose of reminding Antwoine Weissme, his old friend, that he was not alone in carrying the guilt.

"Well, you probably already know that the priming of her sexuality did not follow that road."

"It was foreseeable," Syvaron Delk said sooner than his friend could make another desolate nod. Baglian nodded, however, in response to the Syvaron's words.

"She is aware of what her sexuality has become, but she lives in denial of this fact. Student Majgen cannot accept the nature of it," Baglian elaborated. He put his cup on the table and leaned back. "Considering what she has been through, I can't blame her for her sexual prejudices. The girl is actually quite a prude in regard to everything sexual."

The last sentence caught Weissme's attention.

"Everything you say? Not just her own sexuality?" he asked.

"Practically everything," Baglian confirmed. Weissme leaned forward a small hope was rising in him.

"How set are her prejudices against sexuality in general?"

"They are as un-based as the biases often held by non-empathic teenagers in such regards," Baglian said understanding what line of thought Weissme was chasing.

"So there is still hope that she will come to terms with it?" Weissme inquired.

"Yes." Femaron Baglian gave the Ottearon a moment to enjoy the positive knowledge before continuing, he was not blind to the man's hardships.

"Another aspect is of course that she suffers from a fourth degree Brakwan syndrome."

"Yes, we were aware of that before she was assigned to you," Syvaron Delk said, Ottearon Weissme was rubbing his brows again his distress visible in more than just his emanations. 

Delk continued, "We are also aware that without our intervention she would have been very unlikely to develop that syndrome."

"We were also aware that there was a high risk of her developing permanent Brakwan, Holzten or Yio syndromes, if we went through with the pleasure chamber prescription plan, before we did it," Weissme added with evident self-loathing.

'Yes, that would have been foreseeable too,' Baglian thought, but kept that sentiment to himself, instead he said:

"If she was legally of age right now, she would most likely order chemical neutering from a physician, as you know that would be ill-advised for her mental health, since the Brakwan syndrome is an emotional trait and not a physical disturbance."

"Emotional but fully integrated in her personality, impossible to remove therapeutically without causing severe mental damage," Weissme added, "It was the wrong choice, I should have let her spend some years on grane instead. What does a few years matter in comparison to a lifetime?"

Baglian and Delk remained quiet, they both understood Weissme didn't want an answer to that question.

In reality Weissme remembered exactly why he hadn't waited a few years. Back when the problems with Majgen's sexual emanations had grown completely out of control, the yijejo had increased their aggression in the war.

'We need her in the war effort, she is the only empath who can obtain real information through a raised mind shield. Evil grief, we need her abilities and we need them as soon as possible. I would do the exact same thing again if I had to.' Weissme didn't use this knowledge to fight his feelings of self-loathing, he was not prepared to surrender fully to his cynical side.

The three mentarions drank their mocca in silence a while. However, there was still more to be said. Ottearon Weissme was the one who finally broke the silence.

"Femaron Baglian, I arranged a delay for your admission to governmental security programs prior to delivering Student Majgen to your charge. I can inform you that you passed all tests perfectly and would have been approved by now if the process had not been haltered on purpose by me and my allies." Ottearon Weissme monitored Baglian's emanations for strong emotions while talking, he expected Baglian to resent the fact that his career had been actively slowed.

Baglian nodded dispassionately, he considered educating Majgen a more important task than any he could have been assigned to - if he had been upgraded to a higher level of governmental security.

"Now that the situation has changed, I will of course no longer slow the progress of your career in that area, Femaron," Weissme explained, "on the contrary I will prompt the GED to speed up the bureaucratic process in that regard, I will also recommend that they put you up for further upgrades immediately. Actually I was hoping that you would spend some time at the Mentariata while such matters are settled, Femaron Baglian."

"That is a gracious offer, Ottearon Weissme, I am honoured to accept it." None of the three mentarions mentioned why such a vacation would be advisable, nor did they speak of the Ottearon's motives to aid Baglian's career in the area of governmental security. To all three of them it was obvious that Baglian's knowledge of the Majgen-situation had to be kept secret and it was also obvious to all of them that Femaron was not a sufficiently high rank to prevent the knowledge from seeping in a random mind-scan.

Most Mentarions were at risk of being exposed to mind-scans by curious higher ranking mentarions, two things could protect a mentarion from such occurrences. One was to be of so high rank that meeting a higher ranked mentarion was unlikely. The other way to avoid such curiosity was to get GED-confidentiality markings on ones uniform, the mind of a mentarion with such markings was as protected as a file with similar markings.

"Student Majgen will also need a certain security status, I will recommend the GED to give her confidentiality markings based on inadvertently gained knowledge. It is about time I inform the proper authorities of her special abilities, while doing that it will be easy for me to explain that she cannot avoid gaining confidential information from me. I have held high security clearance for many years."

As in Baglian's case, Ottearon Weissme automatically declined to mention the other reason Majgen needed confidentially markings, namely that the political knowledge she now held - of her own situation - could not be allowed to become public.

----=(Weissme's privacy)=----

"Take a full bowl of soup, Student," Weissme ordered, "a half is not enough to last till lunch."

Majgen rose wordlessly and went to the can of soup to fill her bowl to the rim. The depression Weissme had foreseen had hit her more than three months earlier, after only one month as the Ottearon's personal student. The depressive state was having a severe effect on her appetite. For the last two months Majgen had eaten less than half of what she normally did, she was losing weight.

This morning Weissme had decided to no longer allow her to decide for herself how much she ate. The same way he had ten weeks ago decided; she would no longer get to choose how often, or rather how rarely, she should shower. He had also decreed to her precisely how many times a day she had to brush her hair and when to do so too.

Femaron Baglian had been right, however, Student Majgen was trainable in spite of the concentration- and focus-obstructing condition. Weissme had expected his student to be severely handicapped by a depression, and she was, but her comprehensive abilities were nowhere near as affected as he had thought they would be.




Majgen Ch. 010



He often had to remind her to brush her hair or shower or change into a clean uniform, but he did not often have to reiterate instructions for her training exercises.

Majgen's special sensitivity, that was so severely affected if she had emotions of fear and anxiety, was only partially decreased by the feelings of hopelessness accompanying depression. Weissme got the impression that the unchanging emotional landscape of her depression actually increased her perceptive empathic abilities to a certain degree.

He would have known better if he had been with her when she had been with Femaron Baglian on Drom before the Femaron betrayed her trust. He had not caught on to it from her memories; somehow Weissme was unable to compare the information Majgen obtained from his own emanations to the information she had obtained from Baglian's.

"You have dipped your sleeve in your soup, you will need to change your uniform before we go out," Weissme informed Majgen.

"Don't change now, wait till after breakfast," he instructed, as his student put her spoon down and made moves to get up and leave the table. Majgen settled in her seat again, but let her arms hang down her sides instead of picking up her spoon again.

"Eat," the Ottearon ordered to get her back on track.

He was not as prone to corporal punishment as Baglian, but he would not tolerate disobedience in a student any more than Baglian. Majgen knew this and picked up the spoon to scoop more soup into her mouth. She disliked eating these days, since of late she had to swallow with force to push even soup down her unwilling throat.

After the meal Majgen went to her room and changed into a clean uniform. As soon as she returned to the living-room she was sent back to her room by one command from Weissme.

"Brush!"

Her hair had become a mess from pulling the outer cloak and inner blouse of her uniform over her head. Weissme did not bother to speak the full sentence - brush your hair - anymore, he was frustrated with needing to repeat that same order so many times a day.

Weissme was frustrated with many aspects of training Majgen.

For one thing he was frustrated at having to control every aspect of her personal hygiene.

"Did you remember to use deodorant today?" he asked as Majgen came back to the living room a second time. She shook her head and went back to her room.

Antwoine Weissme massaged his eyebrows, trying to dampen a fresh surge of frustration wanting to rise inside him.

The Ottearon was frustrated by how hard it was to figure out how to teach her to control her special abilities. The girl seemed capable of understanding what he wanted her to try and also fairly capable of doing just that, but every idea he got, and made her attempt, turned out fruitless.

'I just can't seem to find the logic behind her special sensitivity and I am running out of ideas,' he thought.

Majgen's special sensitivity was extremely valuable because she seemed to be able to obtain every kind of information from an empaths emanations. However, any kind of information was not good enough, she needed to be able to seek out important information far more efficiently.

'I need to teach her how to search for relevant data.'

It was scientifically interesting that she could gain memories of an empaths eleventh birthday party just by passing them in a hallway, but such things wouldn't be useful for purposes of interrogating prisoners of war.

Weissme took his hand off his eyebrows, his forehead was getting sore. He had a habit of rubbing his brows when something was bothering him and the frustrations Majgen caused him seemed endless.

He kept her close to him almost all day, every day. Feeling emotional misery in her emanations had become a nearly constant agony in his life. The fact that he was directly or indirectly responsible for most of her suffering coloured the continuing experience of sensing her with his own guilt, that made it even more unpleasant.

There were many frustrations for Ottearon Weissme in connection with having Student Majgen as his personal student.

One aspect of having Majgen close by bothered him far more than any of the others; Antwoine Weissme missed his privacy. He scanned his student at least every second day, and every single time he found more of his own memories in her mind. Apart from eerily vivid simple memory samples, the girl also caught on to an immense amount of the thoughts and comtemplations he had while with her.

Every time Weissme looked into her mind and saw her analysis of his thoughts and contemplations he felt dissected, judged and exposed. Sometimes he tried to explain his thoughts to her, when he saw in her mind that she disapproved of something he was thinking. However, mostly such an approach turned out to be very unsatisfactory for him.

"I hate that vacant look she gets when she listens to my emanations instead of me," Weissme mumbled to himself.

His student had taken a long time to put deodorant on, he suspected she had forgotten time again.

'She is probably running a brush through her hair, over and over, lost in depressive thoughts.' Majgen mostly forgot to brush when she was meant to, but sometimes when he sent her to her room in other errands, she brushed her hair too. 'I ought to go in there and fetch her.' He would have gone to check on her sooner if his yearning desire for privacy of mind had not been so strong. He cherished even this small moment of mental solitude. 

'Evil grief,' he thought to himself, then he took a few deeps breaths to get his emotions under control and went to fetch his student.

----=(To feel and be felt)=----

Weissme had been right, Majgen was brushing her hair over and over, lost in thought. She was thinking about soup, she was thinking about how bottomless even a single bowl of soup appeared when she had to eat it and how she would have to eat at least three times a day every day for the rest of her life.

When the Ottearon entered her room she realised her hair was thoroughly brushed. She put the brush down and walked to her mentor. Seeing she was moving, Weissme turned round and left her room, Majgen on his tail.

They left his quarters and took an elevator to the building's garage. There Weissme's chauffeur was waiting for them. The Ottearon always hired a private chauffeur when he was staying at one of his homes for more than a day. The chauffeur took them to the Pachel clinique. Igmal Pachel was one of Weissme's old friends and owned one of the most successful and prestigious non-empathic mental health cliniques on the planet Lorean.

In the Ottearon's opinion Pachel was in possession of an unusual insight in matters of the mind, especially considering the man was non-empathic. Weissme had not seen Pachel for years and he looked forward to having what might very well become deep philosophical conversations.

He would not speak to Pachel of his current frustrations or of the girl that caused them, but he still hoped that Pachel's wisdom of life might give him a sense of peace, at least for a while.

Majgen perceived many of Weissme's memories of Igmal Pachel during the two hour travel from Weissme's home on planet Lorean to Pachel's clinique on same planet. Weissme had a home on each of the three planets populated by humans, as well as on most of the biggest and most centrally placed human space stations. In the last four months she had become acquainted with several of his apartments.

'I wish I had a friend like that,' Majgen thought when perceiving how warmly Weissme felt for Pachel, 'but I don't, I don't have any kinds of friends. Maybe I never will.'

Ottearon Weissme was greeted by the clinique's staff in the most attentive manner, Pachel had even ordered his staff to learn the basics of mentarion etiquette as a preparation for his friend's visit. Antwoine Weissme assumed his old pal had wanted him to feel at home in the clinique during the tour he was sure Pachel would offer. His old friend never asked him to 'meet up at the clinique to head off to dinner from there' without ulterior motives.

'He must have been quite adamant when giving instructions on how to greet me,' Weissme thought, while maintaining an expression of mentarion dignity in spite of the humour bubbling within him.

The flustered secretary who caused this humour, was a middle-aged man who was trying to offer Ottearon Weissme coffee while also asking him if he was ready to be escorted to Pachel.

The intentions of the nervous man were a bit hard to decipher from his words, especially because the man was inserting the title Ottearon in every possible and impossible part of his sentences. Weissme estimated that on average every third word the secretary spoke to him was 'Ottearon'.

Ottearon Weissme remained absolutely still and kept his face unreadable retaining an appearance of mentarion dignity while waiting for the secretary to make an intelligible sentence.

Majgen had been ignoring her surroundings, but the undertone of panic in the secretary's voice stirred something inside her. She raised her eyes from the floor, to look at the man whose words seemed to become even more of a senseless babble the longer he talked. Majgen did what Weissme had not done; she entered the man's mind.

'That poor soul,' she thought as she felt the strength of the secretary's anxiety.

The man was in financial difficulties. Pachel had ordered his staff to welcome Ottearon Weissme with mentarion etiquette, but this secretary had not had a chance to study up on the basics of mentarion manners. He had been unlucky enough to be the one at front desk when Weissme arrived, now the secretary feared for his job.

Majgen got the impression that the man overestimated the risk this occurrence constituted to his employment, most likely because of the high level of stress his financial difficulties induced in him. However, her heart still bled with sympathy for the distress he was feeling.

'He is not used to mentarions, he doesn't know that Ottearon Weissme's manner is normal behaviour for his kind, the poor man thinks Weissme is furious. Of course he does, how else could one who doesn't know otherwise interpret such lack of response when seeing distress in a fellow person.' Majgen was ashamed on Weissme's behalf.

'I can't believe the Ottearon thinks this is funny. Is he blind? Femaron Baglian wouldn't have eased the man's suffering either, but Femaron Baglian wouldn't have been laughing inside in this situation.' Majgen wanted to clench her teeth, but mentarion dignity forbade it, she was meant to remain as still as her mentor.

The secretary finished yet another senseless sentence and went quiet as if expecting a reply.

'He isn't aware that his sentence was utterly meaningless. Why doesn't Ottearon Weissme say something?' Majgen focused her senses on her mentor, he was still amused.

'Why don't I say something?' She knew very well that she was meant to remain quiet unless spoken to, when moving in public with her mentor.

"Actually, Sir, Ottearon Weissme would like to be escorted to his friend, the Therapist Pachel. Once there he would like a heated Hacca brew with floating frosting, if you would be so kind, Sir," Majgen said and bowed to the secretary in the mentarion fashion.

Her statement brought immediate and clear emotions of relief relief to the secretary, it also caused a severe change in Weissme's emanations. First surprise, then disbelief and finally, after Ottearon Weissme touched the top of her mind - anger.

'Insolent brat! She knew exactly what she was doing, she knew I would disapprove and still she...' Weissme's thoughts were interrupted by the secretary's first understandable request.

"Follow me please, Ottearon. I will, Ottearon, take your Ottearoness to Pachel, Ottearon."

'I won't let her get away with this,' Weissme concluded to himself, 'insolence like this has to be punished.' The Ottearon started contemplating punishments, while following the secretary.

Majgen followed Weissme's line of thought through his emanations. When she had seen relief wash across the secretary's face, she had felt her act of self-sacrifice had been worthwhile. However, now fear rose in her. She could follow how her mentor mentally discarded one punishment after the other, each of them for being too mild for the offence. 

She was nauseated to realise that the Ottearon was looking forward to this opportunity to punish her severely. Majgen sensed from him that semi-consciously he expected that beating her would give relief to many of his frustrations regarding her.

'Semiconsciously,' Majgen thought, 'Baglian would never consider such aspects semiconsciously, Femaron Baglian knows himself well enough to recognise his own ulterior motives consciously, at least in matters like these. He would also never plan future punishments while being agitated.' Feelings of revulsion began to intermingle with her fear.

When they arrived at Pachel's office the Ottearon halted the secretary before he could activate the door alert to announce their arrival.

"Just a moment, Secretary Tzatzavitj," Ottearon Weissme said and turned to Majgen.

"You will wait for me right here, next to this door, Student Majgen Rahan. You will not move from that spot until I come back for you, Student."

Majgen nodded in an obedient fashion and moved to stand at the wall right next to the door. Ottearon Weissme watched her get in place, his eyes were harder than a stern mask of mentarion dignity required.

'I will deal with you later, Student,' Weissme thought. Majgen picked this thought up from his emanations, it struck her harder than it would have if spoken loud.

Just as the door to the office opened and Weissme moved through the doorway Majgen obtained another piece of information from the Ottearon's emanations.

'Semiconsciously he is hoping I will try to run away while he is talking to his friend, he wasn't planning to leave me unguarded like this before I made him angry. He is hoping I will attempt to flee because it will give him further cause to beat me,' she thought while the door closed behind Weissme. Majgen's emotions were in turmoil, the depression she was suffering from withdrew from her conscious mind temporarily bested by strong emotions.

Anger aimed at Ottearon Weissme was trying to claim its right in her emotional spectre.

'He is trying to set me up, that agenda is semiconscious, but still... Part of him wants to fool me into bringing more punishment upon myself!' She pulled the hood of her uniform on with an aggressive lift, she was alone in the corridor but she was too well-trained in the mentarion ways to allow herself the luxury of grinding her teeth with her hood down.

'Ottearon Weissme still thinks of me as an irresponsible teenager, who would run from my duties like a coward if given the opportunity and a scare.' Majgen clenched her hands into tight fists. 'I am not a careless teenager, I am a mentarion! And I will not flee from my responsibilities. One in eighty million, I am one of the few that carries this gift to become able to heal the minds of others, to lessen suffering in my fellow person. I have no intentions of trying to let this gift go to waste. I am not a child!'

For humans anger had always been a strong emotion, but also an emotion that would easily fade or hide in a person's deeper recesses when faced with inactivity and lack of stimulation, even for time-spans as short as to be measured in minutes.

Within less than an hour Majgen's anger had to yield to fears of what punishments Weissme was planning, she was also filled with a more general despair rising from the loneliness and lack of joy in her existence.

These emotions suited the emotional build of her depression and the clinically defined condition once again took hold of her conscious mind.

The design of the corridor was typical for non-empathic human company buildings. The walls and ceiling were coloured with a unanimous light shade of green, they were devoid of ornaments or patterns. The only decorations were pictures hung at orderly intervals. The visual impression the floor added was simple too.

The carpet was patterned but to Majgen the repetitive theme of the carpet seemed lifeless. If not suffering from a depression her word for the theme would most likely have been boring - not lifeless.

The elevator at the end of the corridor opened, and a man stepped out of it. Majgen heard his footsteps on the carpet and also heard how his footsteps stopped a good distance from her. She paid no heed to it however, she was used to the way suddenly noticing a mentarion very often caused non-empaths to pause their errands to gawk with surprise and curiosity.

The footsteps resumed after a couple of moments and continued their path down the hallway. The man passed her and walked on for a few steps, then he stopped and turned around to walk back to her again.

"Am I bad?"

Majgen raised her head at the sound of his voice to face the person talking. Her eyes appeared clouded and vacant, she was in a depressive daze. The man repeated his question talking slowly with emphasis on each word, he thought he was talking to a underdeveloped person.

"Am... I... bad?"

Pushing herself out of the daze, Majgen forced her eyes into focus and studied the man's face, while contemplating his question.

"Im sorry, Sir, I do not understand what you mean with that question. Would you care to be more specific, Sir?" Her clear phrasing startled him.

"Oh dear, I thought you were..." He managed to stop himself before saying 'retarded'. Majgen did not look into the man's mind, but she understood what he had been about to say. It was not the first time she had been mistaken for the Mentariata's only other adult rank 10 student.

"I... I..." He cleared his throat. "Im sorry to have... bothered you. I... ah... I need to go... I mean I need to be somewhere... not here... somewhere else. Another place you see. So... uh... good-bye." The man turned and walked away. Majgen resumed her waiting pose, not giving a second thought to the intrusion.

The man walked briskly to escape how awkward he felt regarding his mistake. He took the elevator back to the recreational parts of the clinique where he intended to try to find a way to divert himself from this new embarrassing memory.

He walked round a bit to find an appropriately distracting activity, he found that a smaller assembly of clients were watching dancing show broadcasts while sitting in comfortable couches in one of the glass-rooms. The room was sound proof but the people looked like they were practically yelling to each other while commenting the show, so he guessed the music was playing loud.

'Noise and company without commitment to talk. Perfect!' he thought to himself and entered the glass-room. The volume on the dance show had indeed been turned up to very high, the other onlookers were apparently used to this amount of noise, they seemed able to communicate well with yells and gestures. The newcomer however could only shake his head and shrug when they tried to talk to him, hence they let him be for the duration of the show.

The dance show kept running for more than half an hour after he arrived to the noisy sanctity of the room. As he had hoped the deafening beat of the music got his mind off the embarassing encounter with the Tenth Ranked Mentarion Student, while the show lasted at least.

As soon as the show ended, he fled the room. His motive to escape was that the onlookers chose that moment to turn the volume down, obviously desiring to focus less on viewing broadcasts and more on interacting socially.




Majgen Ch. 010



After sitting still for forty minutes his bladder gave him an honest excuse to escape the room swiftly. He was thankful for not having to lie to make a departure too rapid to make prolonged explanations or good-byes to these people, whom he did not know well. He was not comfortable lying, not even about inessential matters, and he was not versed in keeping sentences brief and concise.

After relieving himself he went to the sink to wash his hands.

'Four times rinse and repeat,' he thought while applying soap and rinsing it off again with water, several times in a row. He considered himself an idiot for washing his hands three times more than needed, his hands just still felt dirty if he didn't and he hated that feeling.

His mind went back to the mentarion in the corridor.

'I should have asked her anyway. Since she wasn't retarded after all she would have been even more well-equipped to answer my question. Though it'd be more intimidating to hear the reply from a fully sensible person wouldn't it, Fral?' he asked himself.

"It doesn't matter if the answer would be more or less frightening! To uninvited approach a mentarion and request empathic services is against the law," Fral informed his reflection in the mirror. He sighed and grabbed a clean towel from the towel holder to wipe his hands.

"Otherwise they wouldn't be able to walk in public without getting jumped by hordes of unassigned patients. One in eighty million, doesn't give me good odds to ever even meet a mentarion again." He put the towel in the bin marked dirty towels and left the toilet.

"Oh crap!" he exclaimed after walking a few steps and thought, 'I did break that law already, I asked her an empathic question.' 

He swallowed nervously.

'Or maybe my question didn't quite pass the line marked by law, after all it could be interpreted in a non-empathic manner, couldn't it? She said she didn't understand what I meant.' He kept walking aimlessly while contemplating his meeting with the empath.

'Actually it was very rude of me to just leave like that, whether it was legal to ask or not, it wasn't polite of me to leave without answering her question. She must be gone by now this is a non-empathic clinique, she must have come with the visiting Ottearon, whom people has mentioned, even if she isn't the Tenth Ranked Retard rumour claims he has brought with him on past visits.' Fral stopped walking and stood still a few seconds.

'I guess it won't hurt to look. At least then I can tell myself I tried.' He resumed his walking, this time with a well defined destination in mind.

Majgen was still in the hallway, as ordered by Weissme, she had not moved from her spot next to the door. People had walked past her on several occasions, but only that single person had addressed her since Ottearon Weissme had left.

She heard footsteps again, as Fral approached her tentatively. He was tempted to just continue walking when he reached her, but he hung on to his decision to apologise long enough to stop his feet.

"Hi," he said.

The student mentarion once again raised her head to face him.

"Greetings, Sir."

"I wanted to apologise for..." He had forgotten how he had planned to phrase his excuse and found himself unable to finish the sentence. "Ah... eh... you see..."

This time Majgen entered the non-empathic man's mind, to see what he wanted of her.

"I understand, Sir, you do not need to apologise to me, I am merely a lowly student, Sir." The humility of her words, tone and posture caught Fral by surprise.

"Uh... Ok... I'll get going then... see you... I mean... I probably won't see you again... Not that I would mind it's just..." Fral took a deep breath to make himself stop talking, then he exhaled and took another breath to figure out how to make his escape politely.

"eh... Well then... Greetings... I mean... Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Sir," Majgen gave the man a small version of a polite mentarion bow, she felt a deeper bow would increase his discomfort rather than relieve it. Fral tried to imitate her bow and then moved to walk away.

Majgen watched him walk a few paces, then she called out to him.

"Sir."

Fral stopped in his track and turned to face her, her eyes were intense as they sought his. She took a second to sense him more fully to feel more assured that she wished to say what she thought of saying.

"I am looking into your mind now, Sir." Her words made Fral feel like his heart stopped beating for several seconds, just to begin again pounding with a vengeance.

"Ah... Ok," he said not sure if he wanted to walk back to her or run away with the speed of terror.

"I understand now, Sir, that previously you wanted to ask me whether or not you are a bad person. Sir, I am not the one you should be asking that question."

"Oh... Ok," Fral replied, while his heart sank with disappointment, he forgot his fear and only remembered his previous hope for answers.

'More cliché gibble-gobble, I've heard it all before. Accept yourself, be your own judge, understand yourself, somehow I really expected more of a mentarion.' He turned round to walk away, his stomach heavy with the anti-climax he had just experienced.

"Sir." Her voice stopped him and made him turn enough to be able to see her through the corner of his eye.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"I won't tell you if you are a good or a bad person."

"Ok." He had expected another phrase like that. He turned his head forward again, to resume his departure from the mentarion's view.

"But I can show you what I sense."

Fral froze with one foot still raised to take a step, a second later he lowered his foot. He still had his back to Majgen when he asked her:

"What do you mean?"

"I can show you everything I see in your mind, Sir." Her voice was kind, her words were meant as an offer, she would not try to push him.

"What do you see in my mind?"

"I will not try to reduce what I see into words, Sir. My offer stands, whether you want to accept it or not is your choice, Sir. I will not try to force my knowledge upon you."

Fral turned to face the mentarion again.

"Would you show me something I don't already know?" he asked.

"Your mind is you, Sir, all that would be new to you, Sir, would be how I feel about what I see."

"Would you show me what you feel about me?" Fral's inadequacy with phrasing his sentences was absent when he spoke so directly.

"Only if you ask me to, Sir."

"I want you to. I... uh... I ask you to!" he said while walking back to Majgen. He stopped two steps from her, a normal distance for social conversations.

"Please step closer, Sir. It is customary for mind sharing."

Fral move a bit closer. When he stopped a single step from her, Majgen raised her arm and reached it towards him, to demonstrate that she could barely touch him still, then made a waving motion with her hand to urge him closer. The non-empathic man understood and moved to stand as close as he could get without their bodies touching.

Majgen had to crane her neck back to look into the face of the taller man.

'Sometimes I'd wish I wasn't so short,' she thought to herself while lifting her hands to the man's cheeks.

She sensed anxiety growing in the man as her hands slid gently along his cheeks on their travel towards his ears.

'Do not fear, this will not hurt, I will not hurt you.' Majgen transmitted her emotions to the man without filtering, very unlike what a graduated mentarion engaged in a therapeutic measure would.

" 'I am not a therapist, what I can show you is only how I feel when I look into your mind, nothing more, nothing less,' " she said and thought while transmitting the full of her current emotions to him. She could do that without breaking any confidentiality, because in that moment she was only thinking about him.

She sensed how he understood and accepted her words and feelings.

'See, what I see,' Majgen's emotions translated to Fral while she expanded the empathic bond. Majgen did not try to avoid the mirror, she was aiming for mind sharing, not mind scanning.

'I feel warmly for you Sir/man/newly met stranger/person, I Majgen/Student/young have been in your mind only so briefly/short/momentarily. What I have seen/sensed/perceived/understood so far warms me. I do not understand/comprehend where your insecurity/doubt/fear stems from. Shall we go search? Together?' she shared her emotions with Fral she did not try to word her questions, emotions translated empathically, words did not.

'Afraid,' Fral's immediate emotional response was clear, 'you like me now, you will stop liking me if you see it all. It will hurt me.'

'Trust me! please trust me,' was Majgen's counter-response, 'I have seen...' Fral couldn't fully grasp what Majgen had sensed other than she was referring to past experiences not related to him. Majgen was fully aware of his confusion but would not share such memories with him, for matters of confidentiality of the minds of others she had scanned.

'You desire answers/knowledge/truth. Let me help you find that.'

'Yes. No. I fear. Yes. No. Help me, I don't want to hurt anymore,' Fral's emotions were changing like the swinging of a rapid pendulum, 'Look without me, if you see bad, just don't tell me, let me live in ignorance.'

" 'Ok,' " Majgen thought and said, then she stopped transmitting to Fral to go look in his mind alone.

Fral felt very alone when no longer able to sense the mentarion's emotions. Alone and scared.

'What is she looking at?' he asked himself, 'The day I dumped my childhood crush because she was too fat and ugly for my friends? The day I stole half my mums savings to act like a wealthy prince on a class excursion? The young lady I had sex with when I was thirty-five, she was so drunk she couldn't recognise me the next morning. I have done so many bad things, she could be looking at any one of them.'

Majgen scanned him a while, she sank so deep into his memories that for a while she didn't sense his current emotions. When she surfaced again she spoke to him.

"Are you ready to see what I see now?"

"Do you still like me?" Fral countered her question.

"For many people a time comes eventually, where they have to decide if they wish to live like cowards or like humans. I think that time might have come for you, Sir."

'Evil grief, what nightmare has she found inside me?' Fral thought, he could not decipher the words and tone of the young mentarion. Majgen made an effort not to reveal her emotions through her body-language.

'He has to be prepared, I love him already but that is no guarantee that he will love himself. I believe he has put his life on hold for too long. It is time for him to understand who he is so he can choose to accept or disapprove. To truly resume his life or to change that which he dislikes so that he can live with who he is. I hope he will choose life.' Majgen felt Fral making up his decision regarding desire for knowledge and fear of same, but she did not act until he spoke.

"Show me, show me everything." He sounded like a man who had spoken a verdict over himself but he also spoke with vigour, his mind was set. Majgen transmitted to him again, she dragged both of them into his mind.

'See what I see, feel what I feel, see why I feel,' Majgen's emotions sang this meaning to Fral wordlessly. He listened, he saw and he felt. He saw himself from the eyes of a person who had seen the minds of many people. He saw nothing of the other people Majgen had scanned, but he sensed the understanding her past knowledge added to what she saw. The experience was overwhelming, at times it made him forget it was himself he was watching.

'You are beautiful/glorious/loveable, Fral/Sir/man who are no longer a stranger, can't you see it? Look! Feel!' Majgen's care whispered and yelled to him.

'I see, I feel, show me more! Stay with me, I couldn't see what you see.'

'Look, here, see this,' Majgen pulled him to memories of incidents he had not thought about for years, 'This is you too.'

'I had forgotten, is that really me?'

'It is still part of you, look!'

'Do you really care for me, or are you playing with me.'

'You are with me, feel me, I could not lie the way we are now. Intwined.'

'I feel it, it's true.'

'Look.'

Words could never describe the full being of a person. The diversities of a single personality and the immense sum of moments in even a young life. Ultimately words were logical. As little as emotions could truly understand and comprehend logic; equally weak would logic be to describe emotions.

For Fral to directly feel another persons emotions was a new dimension in itself, but Majgen went beyond that, she showed him a whole new universe within himself. She showed him who he was seen with her eyes. She showed him, who he had been just before he met her and he saw the person he had known he was, and yet he had not known. It was old and it was new.

It was him, but it was him seen through her mind. Of course Majgen could not see every moment of his life in such a short time, and neither could she see every side of his personality at once. But she clearly saw an essence of his being and what she saw she showed him.

What she did was not similar to any mentarion technique, it was far simpler and far more vivid than any known technique. Majgen was not aware how unique her approach was and Fral who knew nothing of mentarion ways had no clue that what she did was unusual.

'I understand now!' Fral felt, 'Look Mentarion! see! feel!' His emotions directed Majgen on where to take them, now it was Fral who was guiding her, to show her what he saw.

'I see! I feel!' Majgen rejoiced, 'You are seeing yourself, Fral/Sir/'man who shows me', you are seeing for yourself!'

'Yes, I see, I finally see!'

'I will miss you, Fral/Sir/'man whom I met today'.' There was a tint of sadness in Majgen's emotional good-bye as she slowly withdrew from Fral's mind. For her it had also been a unique experience, she had scanned non-empaths uncountable times in the last five months, but she had never entwined mentally with anyone before like that. Neither empath, nor non-empath.

Fral rejoice was too jubilant for him to notice his own feelings of loneliness upon her leaving his mind. Also he had been too distracted by the revelation, which Majgen had woken in him, to notice her sadness.

'She has left my mind and I can still see myself!' his thoughts and emotions cheered, 'I am me and I am ok.' Fral's eyes were closed and he had a happy smile on his face. He stood still a while, remembering and feeling. Majgen took her hands off his ears and leaned herself against the wall behind her to give him space to be with himself.

'Ottearon Weissme might use this as an excuse to punish me further, mind sharing isn't more than a student is allowed to with a willing partner. However, this man considered what I did to be therapy, in spite of my words to the contrary.' Majgen took a deep breath.

'I am glad I did it, I am happy I could help him.'

Fral opened his eyes, for a moment his eyes were distantly looking into the wall. Since he was gazing straight ahead the aim of his vision was a bit above Majgen's head until he lowered his eyes to look at the young woman's face.

'She appears so small physically, I would never have guessed what treasure of a soul that body holds,' he thought to himself. Majgen had long left his mind, so she didn't perceive this thought.

Joy and relief still bubbled in Fral and a wave of gratitude towards the small mentarion washed over him. He stepped forward and hugged her to him in a tight embrace. Majgen immediately tensed with disapproval of the physical contact, she had not experienced positive physical contact for years. Her whole body went rigid with her arms still down her sides and for a moment her breathing stopped.

Once Majgen got past her initial surprise, she resumed breathing. But she remained rigid expecting the man to notice and let go off her. Fral, however, was too lost in happiness to notice. He would have been surprised to learn that the empath who had displayed such emotional warmth towards him did not want to be hugged by him.

Fral would never have guessed that the emotionally compassionate girl was afraid of physical contact.

"Thank you for loving me," he said into her ear. For a moment Majgen remained still and rigid, but then her arms rose to reach around Fral and she returned his hug.

"It was an honour, Sir."

"Fral, my name is Fral."

"It was an honour, Fral."

The hug no longer felt intimidating in itself, but it woke a longing in her, a yearning for friendship and warmth. She was sure that Ottearon Weissme would not allow her to retain a friendship at this time, he normally never let her out of his sight. After having been with Weissme for five months she was familiar with every one of his reasons for considering her a threat to the political stability of the mentarion sub-society within the human nation.

"We must part, Fral, it is time for you to resume your life and I have duties I must adhere to."

"Ok." Fral hugged her tighter a moment and said, "Thank you."

"Thank you too, Fral. Thank you too."

He lowered his arms and stepped back.

"Good-bye, Fral," Majgen said, it took a severe effort on her part to not let her sadness show. 

Tears pressed behind her eyes, but she managed to keep them exactly long enough for Fral to say, "Good-bye," and turn his back on her to leave. Majgen felt the first tears running down her cheeks as she watched him take the first steps away from her, down the hall. She knew she ought to wipe them off and pull her hood up to hide her emotional state, but she had not the energy for it.

Fral stopped walking after a few steps. Majgen feared and hoped that he would turn round to face her again, she knew he would try to comfort her if he realised she was sad and she longed for comfort.

"What is your name?" he asked. Majgen cleared her throat to be able to answer without her voice shaking.

"I am Tenth Ranked Student Majgen Rahan."

"Good-bye, Majgen Rahan, I will never forget you," he said and started walking again.

Majgen had to clasp her hand to her mouth and nose to avoid sobbing audibly. She had to stop all air passage to her throat to prevent sound from coming out, because she couldn't stop the emotional cramping of her chest.

The desire to let her misery be heard by Fral was strong, but her determination to not let her personal peril trouble him was stronger.

Un-breathing, she watched his back as he disappeared down the hallway. Her lungs were screaming for air but she didn't move her hand from her mouth and nose until Fral was safely inside the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed behind Fral, Majgen took her hand off her face and breathed in violently. For a few moments her body's demand for oxygen was all she could feel, but soon her body was supplied with air to a degree that allowed her to feel other emotions. 

Her loneliness struck her like a whiplash and seared through her. She leaned on the wall and sank to the floor with a small wailing sound. She curled into a sitting ball and tried to lessen the sound of her sobs and gasps against her arms. Her uniform had several tear wet spots before she gained control of herself to the degree that allowed her to once again summon an appearance of mentarion dignity.

By the time she stood on her feet again, on her assigned spot next to the door, her depression had returned with a vengeance.

A bit more than an hour later Weissme returned to fetch her, he noticed no change in her. He didn't realise she had had a profound experience, not even when she dutifully revealed having mind-shared with a non-empathic person.




Majgen Ch. 010



Upon her revelation he briefly scanned her memory of the event, to ascertain she truly had not performed invasive procedures or attempted actual therapy. Looking at her memories of sharing minds with Fral, Weissme got the impression that he was looking at a clumsy and unprofessional, albeit harmless, attempt at mind sharing, that was all a fast half-hearted glance showed the Ottearon.

*

Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID ellynei)

Feel free to

Encourage or

Educate me

Dear reader if you made it this far

Be

A

Conscious person

Knowing not how my words affect

it is

Paranoia inducing

Lets me not

See



Majgen Ch. 011



This chapter is about Hawlun, and the war, a flashback to the past. It was never my intension to keep you all in suspense regarding Majgen's past. There are just so many things to tell, I can't do it all at once.

*

----=(Resources)=----

The war between yijejos and humans begun 211 years prior to Majgen's birth, basically the war was a conflict over a certain region of space. The area in question had originally been discovered by a crew of humans flying a small ship named Jade. This fact was not to be found in any history books or governmental records at Majgen's time though. Not on the human side, nor on the yijejoan.

For fifteen years, the Jade's crew searched uncharted space for good mining spots. They did not have the funds to start mining colonies themselves, but knowledge of coordinates of good mining spots was worth a lot of money in itself. Like most other adventurers -- in professions where profit was based on chance -- every member of the crew day-dreamed of good finds. They all fantasised about that 'Final Find', the one that would earn them enough money to retire wealthy. Once they came across their 'Final Find' it was more than they had ever dreamt of.

What they found was the biggest compilation of geological resources ever discovered - by either yijejo or human.

The wealth of resources was split out on rock-like gatherings of mass ranging in size from basketballs to planetary. The masses were in stable orbits, some with each other as well as a close-by sun. Such a density of useful resources in one area was unheard of at that time. The cosmic mechanics that could form a cluster region like this was unknown to both humans and yijejos. Of course, not knowing how the resources came to exist, and be placed in such a spatially favourable manner, would not prevent either race from harvesting the result.

If the crew on the Jade had been honest, then, maybe, war between yijejos and humans could have been avoided. If the Jade had only sold the knowledge of this system to one company from either species, then that one species would have been able to truly claim the area - before the other even knew of it. Maybe, if that had been the case, the other species would not have claimed a right to the territory too.

But the crew on the Jade were not honest.

They sold the coordinates to no less than forty different human mining companies and fifteen different yijejoan companies, finally they sold the knowledge to a yijejoan tri-planetary government. Afterwards the Jade's crew disappeared into human society with their wealth. None of them ever stood forward to admit their crimes.

At first the resourceful area in question was dubbed with many, more or less imaginative, names by both yijejos and humans. Thirty years after its discovery, however, only one name remained.

The War Zone.

In the beginning fighting in the territory had mainly been between companies wanting to claim the same areas, or simply to steal resources already mined by others. The civilian companies wisely avoided the mining complexes of -- the only governmental representation -- the yijejos from the tri-planetary coalition. Those avoided the companies too and made sure not to venture beyond their own claimed area.

A state of stable chaos persisted for as long as four years. The concept that eventually broke the balance was peace.

Governments on the yijejo side and the single human government started trying to settle conflicts in the area. Extensive treaties were negotiated. Peace-forces were dispatched to the area by both yijejoan governments and the human government, to ensure those treaties were respected.

The first clash between yijejo governmental forces and human GED entities was a case of mistaken identity by both sides. After one extended battle with losses of life on both sides the mistake was discovered, and diplomatic measures taken to prevent war.

Neither side desired war.

The yijejos were the first to propose a more formal splitting of the territory into species-specific areas. The humans adopted the idea instantly and negotiations began. Sadly, the only matter the participants in those negotiations could agree upon was the need to split the area.

At first the humans were tentative in their diplomatic negotiations with the yijejo. The human government suspected that if war should ensue then humanity could not resist a gathered yijejoan attack. The human government feared extinction. They did have good reason to believe that if the entire yijejo species should unite in war against humans, then human kind would not stand a chance.

According to yijejoan history, the yijejos had previously been in an extinction war with another intelligent species - this around seven-thousand years prior to the first encounter between humans and yijejos. The yijejos had won that war; the other species no longer existed.

The yijejos claimed to be ashamed of their ancestors' actions in that regard. The human government wasn't convinced the shame was genuine, not even convinced the opponent species had ever existed. The humans did, however, have the impression that the yijejos were not looking for excuses to eradicate the human species.

In the past yijejos had been unexpectedly easy to push into withdrawing from resources. In the few prior conflicts between the two species over smaller mining spots, yijejos had always, in the end, given in to the wishes of the human government. 

The humans, however, were not aware that yijejos in general had run out of patience with the smaller and less resourceful human population.

This time the yijejos were not inclined to yield.

----=(Prelude to war)=----

The human government was extremely eager to increase the amount of resources harvested by humans, whether by private companies or governmental authorities. During the initial negotiations between human and yijejo governments both sides had agreed not to let their citizens set up new mining spots nor to expand current mining operations to a degree that would require more population or traffic in the area.

Advisors in the human government had a nearly mythical impression of the yijejos' aversion to war and violence, and successfully transferred this impression to the decision making parts of same government. The general belief amongst humans -- that yijejos had strong pacifist traits -- was clear from certain phrases in top secret reports in the GRD and GED, the resource and law enforcing divisions.

Quote from a report regarding yijejoan interest in the zone of conflict: "...The yijejos do not desire these mining opportunities as severely as we do, they will not be willing to fight as hard for them as we will..."

Quote from a report analysing yijejoan psychology regarding the zone of conflict. "...In summary the yijejos are constantly looking for ways to consider themselves better than humans. More incidents of accidental combat between our species, in particular incidents were humans come to harm, will make it harder for the yijejos to uphold an image to their own public of being less violent and more understanding, hence in their eyes more evolved, than us... 

...Further accidents will very likely cause a greater desperation on the yijejoan side to complete the negotiations, simply to avoid further bloodshed. If the mistakes are made by our side the yijejos would be very likely to take this as a sign of human inferiority. As already explained previously in this report this might be a cause for the yijejos to treat us with less respect, however, more importantly it would motivate the yijejos to...Quite frankly Ladies and Sirs, they would spoil us as children...

...This report recommends that we embrace the yijejoan view of humans as inferior beings, to gain further advantages. With the reports from the GRD stating that we are not truly dependant on trading with the yijejos we have no real need for their respect, quite the contrary their despise would be advantageous at this time..."

Quote from a personal, albeit top secret, voice letter: "...Will you stop fussing about the 'what if's regarding superior yijejoan firepower. If they aren't willing to fight then it doesn't matter if there are more of them than of us. Just stop to consider this: Their own historical files claim that six thousand years ago a species with the emotional capacity of bugs tried to annihilate the entire yijejo species. The yijejos actually feel guilty about exterminating such vermin. If you take a look at what has happened right now yijejoan news broadcasts display a widespread consternation in the general yijejo population regarding humans having been killed by yijejos. Even if we made threats to exterminate their species they would hesitate to war us, yet all we want is a bigger piece of this pie. The yijejoan companies are willing to fight over money, but the yijejo nations will not start an actual war over something as mundane as resources..."

Quote from a personal, albeit top secret, long range communication: "... A few more accidents and they will give us everything we want..."

While the negotiations between humans and yijejos dragged out, with no signs of progress, there were further clashes between human and yijejo governmental forces. Officially those encounters were innocent, although lethal, mishaps like the first. In reality, however, the majority of the 'mishaps' were planned by the human GED - Governmental law Enforcing Division. The GED's purpose with causing these events was to entice the yijejos to be more indulgent to the wishes of the human government.

At first the plan seemed to be working, but someone within the GED got careless and assigned persons with inside knowledge of the top secret scheme to the peace-keeping forces.

During the seventeenth 'accidental' clash between official yijejo and human peacekeeping forces, the yijejos managed to pacify rather than destroy the battleship manned by their human opponents. The human crew was captured alive and subsequently mind-scanned by yijejo officers. Four captured human officers knew the combat they had just taken part in had not been accidental.

The yijejos were furious when they learned of the humans' deceit. The ongoing negotiations were immediately abandoned. Two yijejoan days - sixteen human days - later, the yijejos sent a truce-offering to the human government. The truce offering contained nearly forty-thousand words in the humana translation, but the meaning could have been condensed to far less words:

The yijejos regarded the conscious aggression, displayed by human governmental forces, to be a declaration of war.

The yijejos would accept resumption of peace if all armed human governmental forces left the designated area within five human days.

If any armed human governmental vessels were to remain in the area past those five days, peace would not resume. If any armed human governmental vessels should enter the area within the following twenty years the yijejos would consider it a declaration of war.

Any armed human vessel spotted in the area within the following twenty years, would be destroyed on sight.

After resumption of peace unarmed human vessels engaged in mining enterprises could be allowed to enter the area after seeking permission.

The human government was appalled at the contents of the truce. Yet the frightening aspect of the document was not the content, rather it was the signatures attached; the truce had been signed by every existing yijejo government, this sign of yijejoan unity made sweat break out on many foreheads belonging to human officials.

At first the human nation complied with the terms of the yijejoan truce, but upon noticing the smallish size of the united yijejoan peacekeeping force the humans became less docile. Less than a month after the yijejoan truce had been offered, the humans officially declared war over the lucrative mining area.

After that the war just kept itself going, but didn't spread more than one days flight beyond the borders of the War Zone. Ten years into the war the last civilians fled the War Zone, and all mining operations in the area ceased.

----=(Hawlun)=----

For 189 years no resources were mined in the War Zone by either species. No one dared start up mining ventures in the midst of the war, not until the GHD - Governmental Habitat Division - approved a permit for the Hawlun mining company twelve years prior to Majgen's birth.

The yijejos never attacked civilian vessels bringing supplies to the War Zone, the only occurrences of yijejos destroying such supply transports took place in the days when the human side still supplied military escorts for their civilian ships. Back then the civilian ships would sometimes get caught in crossfire when the yijejos attacked the military escort.

The human planet Lorean was less than two days flight from the war zone, yet the yijejos never attacked it.

189 years into the war the human government felt convinced that the yijejos would not attack civilian targets, not even in the middle of the War Zone. The yijejos didn't even attempt to intercept the civilian inter-species traders. Which were by humans called smugglers and treacherous criminals, vermin to be hunted and killed whenever possible.

No progress had been made in taking over the War Zone by aggressive means, in the previous one hundred years. However, prior to giving a mining permit to the Hawlun company, the GHD stipulated it would be possible to take over the zone by passive means. The theory was that: Since the yijejos seemed intent not to attack civilians the War Zone could be taken over by unarmed civilians engaged in civilian enterprises.

This hypothesis was tested by the Hawlun mining company, a new corporation - secretly financially sponsored by the GHD. Twelve years prior to Majgen's birth, 189 years into the war, the Hawlun Mining Company started constructing a mining habitat, which they named 'Hawlun'. No Hawlun Mining Company ship was armed in any way, not even the transport vessels that moved expensive equipment into the War Zone and the valuable harvest out. Piracy was a common problem for mining transport vessels at that time, but the need to not be attacked by yijejos was greater than the fear of piracy.

One year after construction of Hawlun had begun, a yijejo patrol encountered a pirate combat vessel engaged in the act of attacking an unarmed Hawlun transport. The yijejo patrol destroyed the pirate ship and subsequently left, ignoring the Hawlun transport completely.

After that day Hawlun transport ships installed yijejo distress signal protocols, to be activated alongside human distress signal protocols, in case of pirate attacks. During the fairly brief history of Hawlun, it happened sometimes that yijejoan ships ignored distress calls from civilian Hawlun ships, but on many occasions yijejoan ships did come to the aid of unarmed Hawlun civilians.

Some Hawlun employees considered this a sign that yijejos weren't as monstrous as the media claimed, other Hawlun employees stated that the yijejos only responded to civilian distress calls because that gave them opportunity to also find pirates, which would be human targets on whom they were allowed to satisfy their desires to kill humans.

For seventeen years the Hawlun mining habitat thrived and grew. Many transports were lost to piracy but financially those losses were easily covered by the ease of mining in the War Zone. In Hawlun's last peaceful days it housed a population of 400,000 children and a bit more than a million adults. The percentage of children in the population was rising as steadily as in any other fairly young mining habitat. Hawlun was placed in a war zone, but in spite of this new Hawlun employees quickly adapted to feeling safe.

"The yijejos may be the ugliest creatures alive, but they eat pirates for breakfast," was a commonly used expression amongst Hawlun employees, especially when newcomers wanted to talk about the war or expressed anxiety regarding the dangerous enemy. Newcomers feared the dreaded enemy species; oldtimers believed they had more to fear from other humans than from yijejos.

----=(To powerlessly watch or wait)=---- 

"Two GED battle-cruisers have emergency docked on Hawlun. Damaged from recent combat they may be unable to maintain life support without aid. We are trying to find out more about the situation at this very moment." The live transmitting 'on-the-scene' news reporter on the viewer appeared genuinely agitated, she had been reporting local Hawlun news for a few years. However, this had to be the biggest live news event on the mining colony ever.

The five year old Majgen was too young to understand what the fuss was all about. Her parents were obviously very interested in the broadcast, so she tried to be very interested too. She managed to stare at the viewer for as long as half a minute, trying to look like she was concentrating and contemplating, just like her parents, but then she got bored.

"Can I go out and play, Mum?"

"Are you wearing your alarm bracelet, Sugar?" Her mother managed to wrestle her eyes off the monitor long enough to send her daughter a smile.

"I'll fetch it!" The child raced to the hallway and found the electronic device on a mantle there.

"I got it," she yelled, enthusiastically informative, while running back to the living room, she was a bit disappointed that her mother barely seemed to notice her, when she came back with the bracelet. She had wanted to play at home with her parents today, her parents often played with her for hours the day after one of them returned from a mining expedition, and this was such a 'day after'. However today her parents just seemed to want to watch news broadcasts.

Playing with Inga, however, was not a bad second best, Majgen had noticed Inga was on the playground - she had seen that on the building monitors on the living room wall. At Majgen's time many family building complexes had camera surveillance of common areas supplied to each apartment. Combined with alarm bracelets such measures made parents feel safer letting their young children roam more freely on their lonesome.

"Mum, I got the bracelet," Majgen repeated reaching her bracelet-holding hand towards her mother.

"Let me put that on for you," her mother said, finally moving her full attention to her child. She expertly snapped the device to lock around the child's wrist and then held on to her hand while looking lovingly into her daughter's brown eyes.

"Before I activate it, do you remember the emergency voice activation code, Sugar?"

"Muuum! Of course I still remember the code, I'm not a baby!" Majgen complained.

"We've been through this before, Honey, just tell me the code."

"Stop treating me like a baby, Mum, I'm a big girl. I can read lots of words already! And I can write my own name too, and yours and Dads, and lots of other words too!"

"Yes, you are a very clever girl, Sugar, and beautiful too. But! You won't get to run out and play until you demonstrate you remember how to start the alarm on this thing."

"Muuuuum," Majgen complained trying to sound like Inga's older brother did, when complaining to his and Inga's parents.

"No."

"Ice-One-Fire-Ten," Majgen recited the code she had memorised since she became four years old, but still had never needed.

"That's my girl, and never forget that code, Sugar." Her mum was always relieved when she recited the code flawlessly. Once Majgen had recited the code wrong, as a joke, and for days her mother had been scared of letting her out of sight.

"And what do you do if an adult grabs hold of you?" her mother inquired.

"Mum! I'm not a baby."

Her mother had not recited what Majgen considered baby training for a while, and the child was consternated that this habit was resumed now.




Majgen Ch. 011



"Majgen!" There was something sharp in the woman's voice, a new taint of fear that made the child stop complaining and pay attention to the woman in front of her. There was something different about her mother today.

"What do you do if an adult grabs hold of you?" her mother asked again.

"Ice-One-Fire-Ten, I say that and then I scream and try to run home," Majgen recited obediently.

"What do you do if the bracelet beeps a few times?" her mother asked next.

"I go home," Majgen replied automatically, her mother had rehearsed all this with her a multitude of times over the past year, and to a five year old a year was a very long time. Her mother took her other hand in hers too.

"And if the bracelet starts ringing?"

"Then I drop everything I am doing and run home as fast as my legs can carry me!" Majgen imitated the actions as vividly and enthusiastically as a five year old could, with two hands held.

"That's my girl," the woman said and pulled her daughter in for a hug.

"Muuuum, let go off me I wanna go play."

"Let the child go play honey, she knows how to use the bracelet," Majgen's father said, coming to her rescue. Majgen's mother managed to make herself let go off her child, who immediately started running towards the hallway.

"Majgen!" The child stopped upon hearing her name. "Make sure you don't leave the building."

"Muuuum," Majgen's father mimicked his daughter's newest manner of complaining, which encouraged the child to giggle rather than complain herself.

"I won't mum," Majgen resumed her run to the door once safely on the other side of it she raced to the elevator, to get to the building playground four apartment floors up.

"We will be ok, won't we?" Majgen's father asked his spouse, when their child was out of hearing range.

"I'm afraid, Lover, I'm very afraid. Soldiers and armed ships at Hawlun, they shouldn't have brought the war this close." The woman's concern was audible in her voice, now that her child was not present to hear it.

"What will the yijejos do?" her husband asked her, "You know them better than that reporter. After all you fought them as a GED-soldier for four years."

The woman could hear he was hoping for reassurances, but she was not willing to lie.

"Honey. If those battle-cruisers don't leave Hawlun very soon, the yijejos will most likely come and blast them to pieces, civilian losses disregarding. The hulls on those ships are far stronger than anything used to build Hawlun. If the yijejos destroy the ships by firepower then Hawlun and everyone in it will be destroyed too."

"Please don't say that, Lover," he said, looking at his usually so confident wife, needing her strength to fight his own fear.

"If we are lucky the GED-battlecruisers will take off before the yijejos arrive," she said, trying to give him at least a little of the comfort he yearned for.

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

"No, Lover. I'm sorry but all we can do is wait and hope the GED will make the right choice for Hawlun, there is no place in this mining habitat strong enough to resist blasts of the strength needed to destroy a battle-cruiser."

The couple watched the next hour of news-broadcasts in quiet.

"Yijejo ships are approaching Hawlun! There are four yijejoan battlecruisers within a detectable range," the local news station's studio reader sounded more agitated than afraid, maybe he had forgotten he, himself, was on Hawlun.

"Umbra-elleven-viewer-off," Majgen's mother said while getting on her feet, hence turning off the broadcast.

"What are you doing!" her husband yelled, "We need to watch that, we need to see what is going on!"

"No, Lover, we don't. This might be our last hours alive, we need to spend them playing with our daughter, not watching broadcasts."

"WE ARE NOT GOING TO DIE! WE ARE GOING TO STAY RIGHT HERE AND WATCH NEWS UNTIL EVERYTHING IS OK AGAIN!"

Calmly, Molean Rahan watched her husband while he screamed at her from the top of his lungs.

"Are you done?" Her neutral voice brought tears to his eyes. He knew his wife had been a soldier, he knew she had a hard core inside. He loved that part of her too, but to see her looking at him with the cold eyes of a professional killer, to see her looking like a soldier, right there and then, it was more evidence than he wanted that things would not be ok again, ever. He averted his eyes, to spare himself the vision of the retired soldier.

He nodded.

"Wipe your eyes, don't let our child see you that way," she ordered.

"Don't talk to me that way, I'm not a soldier, I'm a civilian," his voice shook, "if these are the last hours of my life I want to spend them with my wife, not a soldier."

"Wolfe..." She spoke his name sternly, but then hugged him tight instead. "I love you Wolfe," his name came out as a sob, "I love you so much Wolfe. There is no one else I'd rather spend the last hours of my life with than you and our child."

The couple held each other tight, each of them trying to keep their tears back so they could meet their daughter without reddened eyes. Then they went to spend time with their daughter, their gift of love to Majgen was an afternoon that became her childhood's last happy memory of feeling loved and safe.

----=(Soldiers)=----

The small family walked slowly headed for one of the park's exits. They had had the park to themselves for the hours they had spent there, most of Hawlun's population was at home watching news broadcasts. Majgen's mother had been surprised when she realised evening had arrived and Hawlun still stood around them.

'Maybe the GED-ships left in the last minute,' she thought to herself, 'or maybe they are negotiating a partial surrender with the yijejos - while holding us all hostage.' She was sufficiently disillusioned to consider high-ranking GED officers capable of holding human civilians hostage against the non-human enemy. 'I truly hope not, I don't think the yijejos will allow the GED to use civilians as a shield.'

A movement was caught by the corner of the former soldier's eye, she turned her head. Humans were running into the park from one of its other exits, some 200 metres away from her and her family. Her eyes narrowed as she observed the quiet runners.

'Disciplined fast running, each of them keeping one arm rigid down and sideways while running. Those are armed GED units.' She analysed what she saw while watching the runners spread out around hard objects of art. 'Twelve armed GED units moving into a face to face defensive-aggressive sheltered formation, but they are not wearing uniforms.'

Majgen and her father had not noticed Molean getting distracted. They were looking at flowers at the other side of the path, which the family had been following.

Molean, mother, wife, lover and former soldier, felt her heart freeze with fear as the exit the armed soldiers had come from opened again and three armed yijejos stormed in. Per reflex she grabbed at her upper thigh for a weapon, her body had forgotten she had not been armed for years. She woke to conscious action when her hand found no weapon attached to her pants.

"Be quiet, both of you," she whispered as she turned and grabbed Majgen, lifting the five year old up as if she was still a toddler, "Be very very quiet, follow me Wolfe, as fast as you can, don't fall behind."

Molean started running to the exit they had been heading for, her husband followed without asking questions, his wife was not prone to acting irrationally.

When they came out of the park Molean explained the situation to her husband without slowing her pace.

"I saw armed GED-units in the park, and yijejos. The bloody shit-bucket GED-officers on the battle-cruisers must have ordered their units to hide amongst the general population." She took some breaths before speaking on, she could not afford to run out of breath.

"Now they are being chased by yijejos." Molean allowed herself to feel rage towards whichever imbecile had made such a decision, anything that could make her hormones flow and her blood pump faster from lungs to legs was helpful just then. "What were they thinking? Yijejos are dangerous in their ships, but in face-to-face combat they are a genuine nightmare." She stopped wasting breath on things her husband did not need to know.

"We gotta hide, the yijejos will probably try to avoid civilian losses, but since our soldiers took off their uniforms they might very well shoot any human on sight." Her words caused Wolfe to clench his teeth. He felt fear, anger and sorrow pump through him, but all that truly mattered to him was to keep his wife's pace, to not slow her down in her attempt to save the three of them.

They were running along a simple street hallway when death came around a corner behind them, noticed only by the child looking over her mothers shoulders.

The yijejo saw two humans running in a direction away from him, he instantly raised his electric pulse weapon and shot a wide stream charge. Before moving to his fallen enemies, he scanned the hallway for hidden opponents with both eyes and equipment.

'Two adults, one child,' he thought to himself, 'probably civilians. Never mind that soldier, in war orders are orders.' He kneeled next to Majgen's father and stabbed him in the leg with the tip of a bioanalytical device. The device blinked white, meaning; analysis complete, result negative. He aimed his weapon at the unconscious man and shot him with a lethal charge.

He turned to Molean and pulled her unconscious body away from her child, while stabbing her leg with the bioanalytical device. As soon as it blinked white he killed her too. Then turned his attention to Majgen.

'That one is empathic,' he thought to himself, he could feel her emanations even though she was unconscious. 'They are going to use it in the war if it is allowed to grow up.' He pointed his weapon at the small form, so much smaller than even an adult human, but he lowered his weapon holding limb without firing. Instead he activated his communicator.

"Soldier seventeen of unit thirty-two requests non-emergency instructions." The yijejo soldier spoke in his native language.

He moved to a side of the hallway and crouched while monitoring his equipment for thermal activity in his vicinity. He had no intentions of letting his guard down while waiting for a response.

"Speak soldier seventeen."

"I found a human empath."

"Net it and bring it to nearest rendezvous point, alive, for later interrogation," dispatch sounded annoyed at having to repeat what was part of the general orders for this mission.

"It is not adult," the soldier explained.

"Then leave it, if it is not adult then it is a civilian and has no useful information for us."

"Should I kill it?"

"No. If it is not adult don't kill it, you have orders not to kill children."

"When it grows up it will be strong enough to be called menaaiiion, they might use it against us in the war," the soldier protested, without conviction. He had no desire to kill the harmless little creature. With menaaiiion he had meant mentarion, a human word which yijejos were unable to pronounce properly.

"Right now it is a child, hence clearly a civilian and not a soldier in civilian disguise, leave it and leave it alive," dispatch commanded.

"Affirmative," the soldier acknowledged the order and moved on with his search find/or destroy mission, leaving Majgen alive next to the dead bodies of her parents.

*

 Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID ellynei)

This does not say everything about what happened at Hawlun, but we can't stay in the past for too long at a time. I also want to tell what happens to Majgen next.

The feedback from chapter 9 and 10 has been amazing. I hope you will keep it coming. Constructive criticism very welcome too, though have to warn you, if you put a return mail on it I tend to write back and yapper away, and ask further questions too. (I guess I should have put that warning on back at 9 and 10.)



Majgen Ch. 012



I think this chapter of the Majgen series is also suitable as a standalone teaser, for those who have not yet read any 'Majgen'. Until now, I have kept the non-erotic Majgen-story to the Non-Erotic category, to not dilute the hotness of Sci-Fi & Fantasy category here on lit. However, since this series is science fiction I felt I could justify putting this one chapter in this category, even though it contains no sexual gratification.

Warning: Work in progress, this book(-series) is not yet fully completed.

----=(Immaturity)=----

Ottearon Weissme glanced towards his personal student and Syvaron Delk, they were out of his hearing range. Majgen stood exactly where he had parked her. She was the only tenth ranked student at this gala celebration. Her black Pompous Ceremonial uniform, with its grey and silver decorations, was quite eye-catching amongst the otherwise upper to high ranking mentarions present.

"...and I told him, that he would be better off seeking aid in the GHD. Seriously, what was I supposed to say to..."

Weissme turned his eyes back to Ottearon Kilten, who was talking to the small assembly of Ottearons - next to the table with cheese delicacies. The talking Ottearon was a short, vital, white-haired woman -- Ottearon Jarana Kilten -- she was in her late nineties. The story, she was telling, was thirty years old. Ottearon Weissme had already heard this story from her three times before. She only told it on rare occasions, but he had known her for twenty-five years.

Ottearon Weissme would have preferred to keep his eyes on Majgen Rahan, this was the first time he had left her side amongst mentarions since she had become his personal student. He had inconspicuously assigned trusted friends to take turns guarding her while he mingled.

"... and four days later I got a call from Caesar, it was..." Ottearon Kilten's story was nearing its end.

'Rico is quite capable of watching over Student Majgen,' Weissme thought, to himself, in order to resist the temptation to glance towards Syvaron Rico Delk and his student again.

Over the last two months his student's mood had improved greatly. The last traces of diagnosable depression had vanished five weeks previously. Student Majgen was not happy, but Ottearon Weissme considered 'sombre and serious' to be a distinct improvement to 'clinically depressed'.

"You are very lucky to have been transferred to get Ottearon Weissme as a personal mentor, Student Majgen," Syvaron Delk said with a humorous wink.

"Am I, Syvaron Delk?" Majgen made sure to keep her tone neutral, it was not easy for her to keep every hint of sarcasm out of her voice. It would have been wiser for her not to speak at all.

"Yes, Student, you are indeed." Syvaron Delk wasn't paying attention to her emanations, otherwise he would have noticed her disagreement. Delk turned his attention back to the two Seksarons - with whom he was having an actual conversation. By etiquette, Majgen, as a mere student, was required to stay silent unless spoken to by the graduated mentarions.

"It is a rare privilege to be the personal student of an Ottearon, being allowed to festivities like this was not something I could brag of back when I was in the personal student program," Syvaron Delk said, and took a sip of his drink.

"Indeed, Syvaron. As I recall there was very little glamour in my life back when I was in the program," Seksaron Ulpru commented with a smile, "For the six months I studied under Firearon Oneil, the closest I got to food which wasn't synthesised, was to drink orange juice from vendor machines." The other two high ranking mentarions laughed at the mimicry of remembered torment in Seksaron Ulpru's voice.

"Well, Seksaron Ulpru," the other Seksaron, Olav Heinz, started, "I can inform you that I never had a synthesised meal during my time as a personal student under Femaron Hap. I know this for a fact, for I cooked every single meal she and I ate. From scrap! Did I mention that Femaron Hap has the preferences of a gourmet? I spent almost half my waking hours shopping and cooking - while studying under her." Heinz sighed, an amused image of remembered agony.

"After my time with Femaron Hap," Heinz continued, "I developed a strong appetite for ready-to-heat partially synthesised meals, I would probably still be eating those if I hadn't married. I've never recovered from my dislike for cooking, but my wife gracefully accepted my offer to hire an educated cook to make meals for us every second weekday. Which is every day it's my turn to cook."

"I propose a toast to gracious spouses, Mentarions," Syvaron Delk said with a bow.

"To gracious spouses," the two Seksarons echoed, and raised their glasses.

"To gracious spouses," Syvaron Delk repeated while raising his glass.

After the toast, Seksaron Heinz resumed the talk:

"At least I don't have a phobia against brewing mocca, nor adding sugar to same."

Majgen caught the referral to Syvaron Delk's time as a personal student. She had long since learned that Syvaron Delk on many occasions openly joked about his time as a personal student under Femaron Baglian. Apparently the Syvaron's ironic recounts of time spent with Femaron Baglian was a quite efficient icebreaker at social gatherings. Majgen had difficulties keeping her emotions sufficiently calm for them not to be clearly evident through her raised mind shield. She did not approve of the way Syvaron Delk described her former mentor to high ranking mentarions.

"Do you have any phobias against brewing hot beverages, Student Majgen?" Seksaron Ulpru asked. Previously in the conversation, Syvaron Delk had revealed the low ranked student had studied under Femaron Baglian.

"No, Seksaron Ulpru, I do not," Majgen said with a bow.

"After studying with Femaron Baglian, it must have been quite a change to be transferred to Ottearon Weissme," Seksaron Ulpru concluded.

'She has never even met Femaron Baglian,' Majgen thought to herself, still struggling to keep her emotions under control.

"Yes. It was quite a change, Seksaron Ulpru," Majgen said.

"You need not be so timid on this matter in present company, Student," Seksaron Heinz said, "We have all spoken freely of our old mentors. It will not be inappropriate of you to follow suit - even though you are still a student. Feel free to enlighten us of your time with Femaron Baglian."

"Thank you for the gracious offer, Seksaron Heinz."

Seksaron Heinz kept watching her, expecting her to continue. Majgen, however, remained silent. She had been offered to talk, not ordered, etiquette did not demand her to speak.

"Tell me, Student Majgen, while you were with Femaron Baglian, did he still seduce a new woman every chance he got?" Syvaron Delk asked. Majgen bowed deeply to Syvaron Delk in response to the question, however she did not reply until after straightening her back and raising her eyes to meet his.

"That is none of your concern, Syvaron Delk." Her current feelings of anger and contempt towards the Syvaron had become evident in her emanations. Delk noticed this, same as the two Seksarons.

"Don't forget your place, Student," Syvaron Delk warned.

Majgen lowered her eyes and assumed a humble pose.

"As you command, Syvaron, so I shall try to comply, Syvaron Delk," Majgen spoke the standard mentarion phrase in a neutral tone. Making her voice affect humility would be wasted at this moment, where contempt was still emanating from her.

The Seksarons pretended not to notice the Students feelings of contempt towards the Syvaron. In spite of their discomfort they politely continued to converse with Syvaron Delk, for a few moments, before excusing themselves and moving off.

"If you humiliate me like that again, I will request permission from Ottearon Weissme to beat you senseless, Student Majgen." Delk delivered the threat in a low voice when they stood alone.

"I am sure the Ottearon would give you his permission already now, Syvaron Delk," Majgen said, she was in no mood to quiver in fear at the mention of a beating, "However, Syvaron, if you wish for me not to despise you, It would be more advisable to not act so despicably, Syvaron Delk." Majgen clearly felt Delk's anger accelerate to the level of rage, but she did not back down. With her empathic senses she checked that no one was within hearing range. Assured they could still speak privately she spoke on.

"Are you aware, Syvaron, how many of Femaron Baglian's memories of your time with him, I have absorbed, Syvaron Delk?"

"What is that supposed to mean, Student?" Syvaron Delk kept his voice low, but his eyes narrowed to angry slits.

"It means that I know exactly what studying under Femaron Baglian did for you, Syvaron Delk."

"So, you have adopted Femaron Baglian's views as your own, have you?" Syvaron Delk said and thought:

'Immature pup, still wagging her tail for her first master, unable to grow an opinion of her own.'

"I do have an opinion of my own, Syvaron." Although Majgen could not sense with which words Syvaron Delk had phrased the concept to himself, she was perfectly able to follow his thinking through his emanations. "Especially after meeting you in person, and gaining many of your memories of your studytime, Syvaron Delk."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Syvaron Delk, that without Femaron Baglian's training you would not have been half the mentarion you are today." Majgen raised her head to stare directly into Delk's eyes again.

"It means, Syvaron, that when you ridicule him and what he did for you; you are acting like an immature child."

'That does it,' Syvaron Delk decided, and punched Majgen in the stomach, just below her ribs.

After making her short speech Majgen had little air left in her to be pushed out, and now she found herself momentarily unable to breathe in fresh air. The young woman sank to her knees with a severe pain spreading through her abdomen, which still refused to perform an inhale.

Standing next to her, Syvaron Delk breathed heavily. His fists clenched tight as he fought the desire to beat her further. Majgen was the personal student of an Ottearon. Even though that Ottearon was a friend of his, he had no right to beat the personal student of a higher ranked mentarion -- without permission.

The hall was completely quiet, every mentarion present had turned their attention to the Syvaron and the tenth ranked student. Those who had not seen the violent blow themselves had been made aware of the scene by emotions of surprise emanating from those who had.

Ottearon Weissme hurried to his friend and the young woman.

'Is she emanating?' Weissme wondered with a tint of fear. It was not like his friend to lose control of himself even for a second.

"My apologies, Ottearon Weissme," Syvaron Delk said, as soon as his long time friend arrived, "I should not have hit your student without your permission." Delk forced his fists to unclench, and likewise willed the rest of his body out of its rigid aggressive stance.

"The fact that the student was will-fully and deliberately insolent does not excuse my actions, Ottearon. I beg your forgiveness, and will, of course, willingly submit to whichever punishment you should find suitable for my offence, Ottearon Weissme." Syvaron Delk stared into thin air - above Student Majgen's crouched body - while addressing his older friend.

In the silence after Syvaron Delk's apology, Majgen re-found her ability to inhale and did so with a loud hissing gasp. It was as audible as a scream in the quiet hall. That, and the hissing and gasping noises from her continued breathing, left none in doubt that the student had received a hard blow to the stomach.

If Syvaron Delk had not been his friend then Weissme could have sent the Syvaron on his way, with words of returning to the matter at another time. However, Syvaron Delk was his friend. If Ottearon Weissme should settle this matter in private, then rumours of inappropriate lenience -- towards a personal acquaintance -- would begin to spread.

Ottearon stood still next to his friend for a moment, looking at Majgen while she struggled for air. Then he turned to Syvaron Rico Delk - his friend through many years.

"Face me, Syvaron," Weissme ordered.

Delk obeyed.

"Fold your hands behind your back, Syvaron Delk." A feeling of regret churned within Ottearon Weissme as he watched his friend obey his second command.

'Whatever Majgen Rahan did to cause this, she will pay dearly,' Weissme thought, this promise gave Weissme the strength he needed to punch his friend in the stomach. The younger man fell to the floor in a breathless hump. Ottearon Weissme knew how to put force behind a blow, in his younger days he had taken every single course available to mentarions, including the classes in corporal punishment.

"This settles the matter between us, Syvaron Delk," Ottearon Weissme informed his breathless friend, and every other mentarion in the hall. Still speaking to everyone present he formally addressed Delk again.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have certain matters to discuss with my student, Syvaron Delk."

Weissme went to Majgen and pulled her to her feet - by her left upper arm. She hardly had enough air to stand. Yet, she managed to stumble out of the hall with her mentor partially pulling, and partially supporting, her left arm.

While Ottearon Weissme pulled her through the halls of the mentarion conference centre, Majgen bravely fought a strong urge to vomit. She still hadn't regained her breath, the pain in her stomach was causing a strong nausea. On top of that, walking, while being dazed from lack of air, induced motion sickness.

Weissme was headed for a taxi gate. At an elevator, Majgen finally got a few moments to catch her breath and get her nausea under control.

'What's wrong with me,' Majgen thought to herself, 'I should know better, I do know better.' In the past, she had inadvertently insulted mentarions on many occasions. But, until a few moments ago, she had never been intentionally rude towards a graduated mentarion.

Ottearon Weissme still hung on to his student's arm.

'She forced me to chastise a friend in public.' Weissme's anger towards Student Majgen burned inside him, he was planning to contain it till they were in the privacy of his apartment.

'I don't know what she did, but Rico would never have lost control without a very good reason. Whatever that reason was, she is going to pay dearly.' Ottearon Weissme felt unusually calm within his rage. Determined. Right then, Weissme felt more clarified and at peace with himself than he had for a very long time. However, he was too furious to notice and wonder why.

Majgen noticed.

'He has semiconsciously longed for something like this ever since I became his personal student,' she thought, 'I've known that for a long time.' Fear was coursing through her, and sadness mingled with the fear. 'I'd wish I hadn't been right. I'd wish Ottearon Weissme was more like the person he wants to be, and less a victim of semiconscious urges.'

The elevator arrived, Weissme pulled her in with his hard grip on her arm, ignoring her attempts to obediently move where he wanted her to.

Majgen focused on gathering courage as the elevator took them to a taxi gate.

The elevator doors opened Weissme pulled her out with him, into Taxi Gate 11. There he let go off her to activate his communicator.

"Taxi gate 11. Now," was the only instructions Weissme offered his Chauffeur.

Ottearon Weissme walked through the taxi gate hallway, and his student followed. None of them spoke as they waited for the hired Chauffeur -- who arrived after a few minutes. 

The Ottearon and Majgen left the taxi gate and entered the first class private transportation wagon. Once seated Weissme activated the intercom.

"Home," he said, trusting the Chauffeur to interpret that as Weissme's nearest apartment. Turning the intercom off he looked at Majgen. She returned his gaze. Her mind shield was still raised, but that didn't hide her fear, Weissme easily sensed it through her emanations.

'Of course she is afraid, she knows what is coming,' he thought to himself.

"What did you do?" Weissme was sure she would understand he was referring to her interaction with Syvaron Delk.

"I insulted him, Ottearon Weissme."

"How?"

"I told him, he was acting like an immature child." Majgen felt a fresh surge of anger pulse in Weissme. Through his emanations she followed his interpretation of her words. 'He is assuming my insult was spoken in front of an audience of Syvaron Delk's peers.' 

"I made sure that no one, other than Syvaron Delk, heard my comment, Ottearon," Majgen knew her words would agitate Ottearon Weissme further, rather than appease him.

'The fact that I can follow his line of thought through his mind shield bothers him immensely,' Majgen thought, 'Emotionally that weighs heavier than the fact the insult was not witnessed.'

"For months you have been waiting for an excuse to beat me to a bloody pulp. Now I have handed you that excuse, Antwoine," she said, she almost managed to keep the fear out of her voice. Majgen had never addressed her teacher by his first name. To speak to him without adhering to mentarion etiquette -- to call him Antwoine -- had required a genuine effort of will on her behalf.

"Yes. You truly have," Weissme said, observing his student closely while speaking, "And I will beat you. Severely."

'She is as afraid of pain as she has been all along. Why is she bringing this upon herself?' he wondered.

'I am not too sure myself, Ottearon,' Majgen thought to herself, her growing fear reduced her ability to analyse his emanations, but she was not yet completely unable to follow his line of thought.

"I will do that later," Weissme said, Majgen caught his semiconscious regret at delaying the beating, it was unmistakable in his emanations, he only intended to wait till they were safely in the confine of his apartment.

"Right now," Weissme continued, "I want an explanation for your behaviour. Have you got any excuses to offer for your insolent behaviour?"

Unlike Majgen, the Ottearon had no trouble expressing himself without adhering to the mentarion rules for proper form of address.

"I have no excuses, Ottearon Weissme."

"Any explanations then?" Weissme scrutinised his students body-language, in spite of her fear he had a feeling that she would take this opportunity to get herself into even deeper trouble.

Majgen opened her mouth to reply, but she closed it again without making a sound. She was loosing track of Weissme's line of thought. Her fear had grown to a level strong enough to obstruct her special sensitivity, reducing her knowledge of what went on inside his head to the level of what any mentarion could read from emanations.

'I don't need to sense it to know it though,' she thought, 'but somehow it is worse to assume, even though the knowing is horrible; when what is coming is pain.'

"I do not know why I chose to speak my mind today, Ottearon Weissme. I do not know why I find myself unable to grovel for mercy either. I cannot offer an explanation, Ottearon." Majgen was telling the truth, she didn't understand why she was suddenly acting rebellious.

"In that case: Shut up student," Ottearon Weissme said, and leaned back in his seat, preparing to ignore her presence for the remainder of the ride.

They sat in quiet. Majgen got her fear under control, and regained her special perceptive abilities.

'The Ottearon isn't evil, he just isn't perfect. He can't stand living without privacy. He hates having me as a personal student. And I hate being his personal student. I can't stand his constant guilt for everything he has done to me, I can't stand feeling sorry for him for hurting me. Nobody is perfect. I am not perfect either, but I should try to convince him to transfer me back to Femaron Baglian.'




Majgen Ch. 012



She focused on sensing her teacher.

'He is too frustrated to listen to reason,' Majgen perceived, 'When it comes to me he always is, except right after beating me. He doesn't do that often, he only beats me when he has a legit reason - within the mentarion ways. I am usually too well-behaved to offer such opportunities.'

Looking out the window of the moving vehicle, Majgen tried to figure out what she could do to convince the Ottearon to let her return to Femaron Baglian.

'My rebellious behaviour so far today, gives him legit reason to beat me. Afterwards he will be less frustrated. even though the beating is a punishment for my behaviour, his mind will accept it as relief for frustrations. After the beating he will be more willing to listen to reason. There is a problem with that though: After the beating I will be too afraid to try to reason with him.'

Majgen closed her eyes.

'The logical solution is quite evident, isn't it?' she asked herself, 'I have to tell him now, and hope he will remember and think of it later, when his frustrations are out of his system. Nobody is perfect, neither am I, but right now I have to pretend I'm not a coward.'

"I have a request, Ottearon Weissme," Majgen said.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up."

"You did, Ottearon, I am disobeying that order." Majgen's words earned her his full attention.

"I very strongly advice you to cease this insolence, Student." The threat in his words, voice and emotions was unmistakable.

"I understand what you are saying, Ottearon, however I will not follow your advice."

"Are you intent on spending the next month in a hospital?"

"If that is what it takes for you to get your frustrations out of your system, then that is what it takes, Ottearon."

Majgen's words woke feelings of righteous rage in Ottearon Weissme.

"How dare you imply that I would beat you for my own pleasure. During your time as my personal student I have only beaten you once, and that was well justified."

"Justified, yes. But you enjoyed it," Majgen said. These words infuriated Weissme further, shocked him too.

'How can she even think that about me, Femaron Baglian I'd suspect of such a thing, but me? Never!'

"Femaron Baglian never enjoyed beating me, Ottearon, even though he hit me several times in the time I was with him. But that was different; Femaron Baglian had no problems with his loss of privacy, you do. Having me within sensing range is a constant burden to you."

"Shut up. Right now. I am warning you!" His words did not silence her.

"My request is, Ottearon..."

"SHUT UP," Weissme yelled. 'What do I need to do to shut her up!'

"My request is," Majgen repeated with intonation, "that when you have beaten me to a bloody pulp. When your anger has left you..."

She paused as Weissme tried to silence her with a mind shock, the empathic attack didn't penetrate her raised mind shield. He had not caught her off guard. Majgen reinforced her mind shield, straining her empathic ability to make it as strong as possible. Weissme himself had taught her how to do that, it was a skill he considered necessary for her, since she possessed politically sensitive information.

Weissme too focused, gathering his composure to shock her again. His first attack had been impulsive, unplanned, and not the strongest he could muster.

'She won't be able to resist a full scale attack. I am a master of my craft, an Ottearon,' Weissme thought to himself with anger and confidence, and launched the next shock.

The second shock didn't penetrate Majgen's mind shield either.

Weissme stared at his student, disbelief written on his face.

'That was my strongest attack,' he thought, 'she waved it off as if it was a probing attempt.'

Majgen was almost as surprised as the Ottearon, she stared back at him for a few seconds, then she remembered what had caused the attack.

"When you have beaten me to a bloody pulp, Ottearon. When your anger has left you. When your frustrations are out of your system. When you feel calm and at peace," she continued her speech, "At that time, Ottearon, my request is: That you consider transferring me back to Femaron Baglian."

Majgen went quiet when her speech was finished.

'With will-full purpose I fought off my personal teacher's attempt to punish me,' Majgen realised, phrasing the thought with official words, 'Grief, I didn't just aggravate him to the level of being willing to beat his frustrations out on me, I handed him a perfectly legit reason - within the mentarion ways - for torturous levels of abuse.'

"Are you done being disobedient now?"

"Yes, Ottearon Weissme," Majgen said, and thought, 'Done is done, too late to regret.'

Bowing to him -- with her head -- Majgen lowered her mind shield. Half a second later Ottearon Weissme attacked her mind with a fresh mind shock, once again using his full empathic potential to put force behind it. Foresee-ably, Student Majgen fainted from the pitch black pain caused by the attack hitting her now unshielded mind.

----=(Guilt)=----

Ottearon Weissme felt relaxed. Brewing himself a cup of mocca, he was feeling like a man who had just completed a task too long delayed.

'Does feel good to have that out of the way,' Weissme mused to himself.

He shook his shoulders up and down a few times, to loosen his muscles. After that, he moved his head to stretch his neck muscles.

'I am a bit sore. I've gone out of shape as of late, it has been a while since I had a work out like this. I really am too old to neglect my physical shape.'

When his cup of mocca was done brewing, he decided to add sugar - in spite of usually preferring his mocca bitter.

'I need the fast carbohydrates,' he thought and smiled to himself, 'I've burned a lot of energy this evening.' He added sugar and spice.

'With spice, the sweet isn't all that bad.' He tested with a sip.

"Perfect." He spoke the word with a feeling of satisfaction.

Standing at the drink cabinet, he took a few more sips of his mocca.

'Maybe I should check out that new comedy broadcast Ottearon Yori mentioned.' Weissme started crossing the living room to get to its control panel, he was planning to turn the room's setting back to relaxation.

'After all, he said it was...'

A whimpering sound interrupted the Ottearon's line of thought, and made him turn his attention to the centre of the living-room floor. What he saw there caused a strong feeling of deja vú in him.

He blinked a few times.

'Where did I see this before? When?' He couldn't recall. He closed his eyes to search his memory.

Within a few seconds it came to him.

'It was that awful day, the first time I ever saw...' His eyes opened -- sooner than he finished phrasing the thought -- and they widened as he compared the image in his memory to what he was looking at now.

'No, not that.' He froze in the face of his own associations.

"What have I done," Weissme whispered to himself. He heard his mocca cup hit the floor. He had let go off it, but he didn't care that his carefully brewed drink was now a large puddle on his carpet.

He closed his eyes again, to try to understand.

The two images haunted him even more with his eyes closed. The image of what he had seen six years ago overlapped what he had seen just now with too much similarity.

The image from the past which now played in Ottearon Weissme's mind was the sight that had met him six years ago, the first time he had seen Majgen Rahan. What he had seen then, was a thirteen year old bruised, sobbing, and naked child. A shivering youngster who had covered her face with her arms, lying on her side.

He opened his eyes again, automatically his empathic senses reached out, to confirm what his eyes saw. But couldn't sense her empathically.

'I've killed her,' he thought with shock. But then noticed his student's chest heaving slightly from her breathing, and remembered why his empathic senses couldn't feel her.

'She isn't dead, I'm still wearing the anti-empathic crown.' Relief shot through him.

He shook his head.

'Get a hold of yourself, Old Man, of course you didn't kill her. You did nothing wrong, this had to be done.' He stealthed himself and turned his eyes back to the battered, naked body of his student.

'She is lying exactly the same way she did that day, that's the only similarity,' he tried to convince himself.

'This was justified. I didn't have a choice,' Weissme's hands rose to the device which was blocking his empathic senses, 'Did I?' The afterthought made him lower his hands again, leaving the crown-shaped anti-empathic helmet on.

'You didn't have a choice, Old Man,' he concluded to himself with stronger assertion, 'She didn't give you a choice. She deliberately insulted a Syvaron, that in itself was grounds for painful punishment. She was directly insolent and disobedient while we drove home, that too can never go unpunished, she knows that too.'

Weissme bent and picked up the cup, which he had dropped a moment earlier. He walked to the drink cabinet and put the cup in the sink there.

'But she didn't stop at that. She dared to fight me, she defended herself from my empathic attacks to be able to continue her disobedience. She should know that actively fighting any mentarion who outranks her, is cause for very severe punishment.' 

Weissme turned again to look at his personal student.

'I couldn't allow myself to go soft on her, and I can't. Im lucky she didn't try to counter attack, her empathic potential is of unbelievable proportions for a human.' Weissme forced the last remnants of the unexpected guilt and regret out of himself.

'She is not a child anymore, and it is my job to keep her under control.'

"Are you done being disobedient now, Student Majgen?" Ottearon Weissme asked with a loud, hard voice. His student's body jerked in response to his voice, she whispered a reply too quietly for him to hear.

Weissme walked to her shivering form and kicked her on an upper thigh.

"Please stop," Majgen whispered, terror and fatigue was evident in her voice. Weissme assumed she was in pain as well.

"Louder, Student, speak properly."

"Please stop." This time she spoke with an audible volume.

"Do I need to repeat my question, Student?"

"I won't disobey again, I won't. Please stop hurting me, just please stop."

Weissme kicked her backside, around the bottom of her ribcage. He didn't kick with force, and wasn't prepared for the piercing scream Majgen elicited when his foot hit its target.

'Grief, I forgot I broke some of her ribs earlier,' Weissme cursed silently, but didn't let his voice reveal that the amount of pain caused by his last kick had been unintended.

"Have you forgotten how to address a higher ranking mentarion, Student?"

"No, Otte...aron..." The student forced her words out in fractions, unable to squeeze a full sentence out at once; his kick had reawakened her injuries -- her lungs and stomach hurt even harder when she tensed her diaphragm to utter words.

"My apo... lo... gies, Ott... te... aron... Weiss... me."

'She is able to scream and talk, no bubbly sounds, seems her lungs have not been perforated. Healthy skin tone - in between the bruises. Natural pattern of fatigue shivers. No sign of critical injuries,' Weissme thought to himself, automatically running his mind through standard corporal punishment check-lists.

"Are you in pain, Student?" Weissme inquired, without having doubts what the answer would be.

"Yes, Otte...aron... Weissme"

"What you are suffering now, is nothing compared to what you will suffer if you try to attack my mind, when I take off the anti-empathic helmet."

"I'd... never do... that... Ottearon."

Weissme took the crown shaped helmet off, and immediately scanned the top of his student's mind, to certify if she was telling the truth.

'A more correct phrasing on her part would have been to say that she didn't and doesn't intend to attack me,' Weissme thought, 'but I shouldn't blame her for not being able to phrase such a meaning properly under these circumstances.'

The young woman was terrified and suffering from a great deal of pain, not just from her ribs, but she was not aggressive.

Weissme went to her room and took a standard rank 10 cloak and a pair of shoes from her closet. He went back to the living room with the mentarion uniform piece over one arm, and the shoes in his hands.

"Get on your feet, Student."

Majgen did her best to obey, but she failed her first couple of attempts at beginning to get her upper body raised. It was impossible for her to find a painless approach to it, and it was very hard to find a way to move -- by which the level of pain was below the threshold where her body refused to obey.

In the end she managed, although the effort blackened her vision completely. Once on her feet, her sight returned slowly.

Without speaking, Weissme pulled the tenth ranked cloak over his student's head. He pushed her arms into the sleeves for her too. He pulled her hood up and forward till her bruised face was well hidden. After adjusting the cloak he helped her get the shoes on.

"We're going to the hospital," he said.

----=(Sleepless)=----

A few days had passed since Majgen's rebellious rudeness towards Syvaron Delk. Now Majgen was lying sleepless on her bed, in her small room in Ottearon Weissme's apartment.

'I'm a coward,' she thought to herself while staring at the ceiling.

Like all Hawlun orphan's she was afraid of complete darkness, and had a night-light on when going to bed. However that was not the fright she was mentally referring to just then.

'I should do something. I should rebel again. I really should, not just because it would be better for me, but because it would speed up my training.'

Majgen closed her eyes, tears trickled quietly down her cheeks now that there was no longer room for them.

'But I wont. I am too afraid of what he will do to me if I disobey again. I'm too scared.'

Her ribs didn't hurt just now.

At night, Ottearon Weissme allowed her a greater amount of painkillers, than at day. The amount of pain she suffered during her recovery from the beating, was part of her punishment. Her doses of painkillers were only larger at night because, Weissme didn't want sleep deprivation to slow her training.

'Femaron Baglian wouldn't have allowed me pain killers at all. Not after deliberately insulting a Syvaron, and if it had been Femaron Baglian's mind shocks I had will-fully warded off he would not have punished me any less than Ottearon Weissme did.

'Weissme automatically assumed that I believed Baglian would have been more lenient towards my offences. He didn't even bother to check for that in mind scans.

'Weissme takes so many things for granted.

'It took two days, before he realised he was wrong.' Majgen opened her eyes again. 'He isn't stupid, he just doesn't want to know how I feel, how I think, who I am. Baglian doesn't really care who I am, but he isn't afraid of finding out either. Weissme cares, but he doesn't want to care.'

The door to her room opened, and Ottearon Weissme walked in. Majgen sat up with a surprised jerk. Her ribs complained in response to the sudden movement.

'No aggression in him, he isn't here to hurt me,' Majgen perceived, the knowledge calmed her.

"Greetings, Ottearon Weissme," she said.

"Greetings, Student Majgen," Weissme said and seated himself in her chair at the wall.

'He is looking for some form of redemption,' Majgen sensed, she couldn't really sense how he planned to find that.

"I want to talk," Weissme said.

It wasn't a question so Majgen didn't reply. She was watching Weissme's face, while displaying appropriate, attentive, behaviour. 

'He left the door open.' Majgen forced herself not to move her eyes from her teacher's face to glance at pitch black darkness in the room outside hers.

"I just want an old fashioned talk," Weissme reiterated, he had turned his empathic senses off and was rubbing his eyebrows. He could neither sense nor see his student's distress.

Weissme went quiet a while.

Majgen's eyes betrayed her, they shot briefly towards the doorway, she forced them back on Weissme.

'There is darkness over there,' she thought, she could still see the dark contour of the doorway out of the corner of her eye, 'There are things in the darkness, they scream, they whine, and they kill. They got mum and dad and they are coming to get me too!'

Majgen tried to force the old thought out of her mind.

'There is nothing in that darkness, it was long ago,' her face turned towards the doorway. 'Kill me, kill me tooooo. Kill me, kill me tooooo. Kill me...' the remembered rant rung in Majgen's head.

The voice had been hoarse, beyond recognition, when she had first heard it back then. She hadn't been able to hear if it was a boy or a girl or how old. She hadn't been able to hear if it had been a child either, but she had known.

She had known because all the adults were dead.

'There are things in the darkness. And they kill!' her own voice rang the old verse in her head, but dissipated to the other rant again.

'Kill me, kill me tooooo.' She had held her ears, and she had screamed, her throat had begun hurting, but the other child's rant had not stopped. In the darkness the rant had gone on and she had not had the strength to scream forever.

Majgen stared into the darkness beyond the doorway. She was sweating, sweat was running down her cheeks in bigger drops than her tears had before.

'There are things in the darkness! AND THEY KILL!'

She wanted to run over and close the door, but she couldn't move. She wanted to close her eyes, and hide under her cover, but she couldn't move. She wanted to turn on the lights, but she couldn't remember the voice activation code.

"Help," she tried to scream it, but it came out as a nearly inaudible whisper. Ottearon Weissme didn't hear the sound at all. He was still trying to gather his thoughts for an old fashioned non-empathic conversation. He finally found an approach.

"Student Majgen," he said while taking his hand of his eye-brows, "I..." He forgot he had been talking when he saw the state of his student.

Even in the moonlight setting of her room he could see she her skin was shivering wet. Her eyes were widened to a point of terror he hadn't even seen when beating her. Weissme's eyes followed her unmoving stare, to the dark doorway.

"GRIEF!" Weissme exclaimed, he jumped out of the chair, ran the few steps to the door, and slammed it shut.

Majgen shrieked with terror at the sudden movement, her hands flew to her mouth to stop the sound.

'How could I forget the darkness,' he berated himself, 'what kind of a person am I? How could I forget!'

Majgen turned her face and big rounded eyes towards him. She lowered her hands again, and whispered to him. She whispered in a voice he hardly recognised.

"We have to be quiet, we have to be very quiet, there are things out there. They kill all the parents. They will kill you too. Be very very quiet. There are things in the darkness."

'Evil grief,' Weissme thought, 'how could I forget not to expose a Hawlun-orphan to darkness.' His heart was bleeding for her.

Weissme turned and switched the lighting in Majgen's room from moonlight to daylight.

"They killed Mum and Dad, they will come for you too, and then when I am all alone again, they will come for me. In the darkness."




Majgen Ch. 012



"Sshh, child," Weissme said and reached towards her empathically, he entered her mind gently and started to sedate her.

"You are safe now, go to sleep."

"Death is not safe, some of the children eat the dead," Majgen protested in that strange voice, while laying herself down on her side, closing her eyes. "I don't eat the dead, raw meat is disgusting!" she commented and fell asleep.

Weissme covered his student with her blanket and sat down next to her on her bed.

'She wet her bed,' he realised when the scent of urine reached his nostrils, 'I should do something about it, so she doesn't have to wake up to the smell of her own piss. Poor child.'

He reached his hand out and caressed the young woman's arm through her blanket.

"I love you, dad," Majgen said in her sleep. Her voice sounded nearly like her own, now that she was sleeping.

"I love you too," Weissme responded automatically, same as he had always done when his kids had said they loved him. When saying it to Majgen now, he hadn't really meant it, yet the association broke through the last shred of distance -- which he had always tried to maintain -- to the younger empath.

The honest fatherly care for Majgen, which he had tried to deny and repress for more than five years, broke through to the surface of his being.

His artificial bubble of professional distance burst.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said to the sleeping student. His chest clenched in agony of compassion for her hardships. Sitting there on the bed -- where the young woman slept a deep mind control induced sleep -- Weissme began to weep, sobbing his abony out next to a young woman, who -- by his hand -- had several broken ribs.

His tears caused his nose to clog, mercifully saving him from the slight scent of urine.

'I really need to clean her, and her bed. She shouldn't have to wake up to that mess,' Weissme thought again, when his sobbing passed.

He rose from the bed and pulled Majgen's cover off. However, the body under the cover wasn't that of a child, that much was obvious since she only wore her underwear. The sight didn't wake sexual feelings in him, his sentiments towards his student were not of that nature, but it made him remember how shy Majgen was about her body.

'She won't appreciate if I touch her naked body, not even for the innocent purpose of cleaning her.' Weissme covered her with the blanket again. 'I can't wash her and change her underwear without seeing or touching her.'

Weissme tried to think up a solution, he had a headache from crying, he was out of practice with shedding tears.

'I need someone to do it for me. Who can I call? Delk? No, not Delk. She doesn't like him either, and, frankly, she has had too many men touching her without permission. Too many, too violently, and at too young an age. I need a woman for the task.' Weissme went through his options, and realised: There were plenty he could order to do it, but only one woman he would want to do it - and that 'one' he could not order around.

He checked his student was fast asleep, and gave her mind a nudge into a deeper unconscious to ensure she wouldn't wake up while alone. Then he left her room, and went to his study where he called a person, whom he hadn't called for years.

Weissme waited patiently for the call to be accepted, it was in the middle of the night. He redialed when the call timed out. On the third redial the call was taken.

"What?" a sleep hoarse female voice said on the other end, she had only opened the connection for sound.

"Greetings, Lonni," Weissme said.

There was a second's silence in the other end.

"Antwoine?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Why are you calling in the middle of the night?" She sounded puzzled and consternated at once, then her voice changed to concern. "Has something happened to one of our children?"

"No, our children are fine," Weissme said, but then corrected himself, "I mean as far as I know the children are fine, I haven't heard from them in years."

"What's going on then? Why did you call me?" She sounded sleepy and puzzled now.

"I need your help, Lonni." His explanation was followed by silence, he waited a while then he spoke on.

"Something has happened, and I really need your help Lonni. Will you come over, please?"

"No," she replied, sounding tired and determined, "it's the middle of the night, I haven't heard from you in years. We have grandchildren whom you have never even seen. You don't even try to reconcile with our children. No, I won't come over."

"I really need your help, Lonni," he said.

He didn't sound like a man in need, he sounded like a calm, dignified yet somewhat friendly Ottearon. Lonni Weissme still remembered that tone, even though it had been more than five years since she had heard it last.

"I said: No!"

"Please turn visual on, Lonni."

"Go dump your head in the toilet and have a nice long drink up, Antwoine. While you're there try to flush yourself out, that really would make the universe a better place."

"Maybe I will follow your advice later, my Dear. Right now, however..."

"I'm not 'your Dear'. I'm hanging up on you. Goodnight."

As soon as his former wife closed the connection, Weissme redialed, and waited for her to pick up again. Instead he got a recorded voice.

"Your line has been blocked from calling this recipient."

He called from another line.

"Hello." It was Lonni's voice.

"Lonni, I..." The connection was closed before he could speak further.

He redialed only to find, she had blocked this line too. He called again from a third line, again she blocked the line as soon as he spoke. The same happened with the fourth, fifth, and sixth line. As soon as he called she hung up and blocked in-going calls from that line. At the seventh call she talked before blocking.

"Stop calling me!"

Eight, ninth and tenth call she didn't.

Weissme went to check that Majgen was still deeply unconscious. Finding she was, he immediately returned to the study to make the eleventh call.

"Hello."

"It's me again," Weissme said.

"Grief, how many lines do you have?"

"More than a hundred, and if you block all those it will only take me a few minutes to get a few hundred more."

"You leave me no choice, I will turn off my communicators," Lonni stated.

"No," Weissme countered, "you won't. One of our children might call you. You never turn off your communicators."

"Then I will block all other lines than theirs and go to bed."

"No, you won't," Weissme knew his former wife inside and out, "some things don't change. You wouldn't risk not getting their calls if they should call from a different line." He heard an exasperated sigh coming from her end of the line.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to come over, I need your help."

"We are not a couple anymore, we are not even friends nowadays. Why should I help you?" She didn't sound like someone about to give in, not by far.

"I will give you the holiday resort apartment, the one you wanted but didn't get when we split apart," Weissme promised.

"I don't want it anymore. I got my own now, one that doesn't contain memories of you. None of the luxuries in yours can make up for that difference."

"I will give you cash to buy a new luxurious one." Weissme was getting nervous, he had really hoped the apartment would do it.

"Go take a swim in space, a nice skin dip. Will do you good! Would do me good at least."

"Cash to buy ten," he offered.

"I don't want your money, Antwoine. I still got enough to cover my needs, and our children's if need be. Please just stay out of my life." Lonni was quiet a moment. "It has been a long time since I needed you, and back then you weren't there for me."

"There must be something you want?" Weissme said.

"Not anymore, Antwoine, not from you. You were a warm person once, now you are just a block of frozen shit, and I have no use for you."

"Please, Lonni, name a price, any price. I'm desperate." A tint of desperation was even beginning to show in his voice.

"So, after all these years of being a cold piece of yijejo dump, you've finally gone mad?" Lonni spoke the derogatory comment in the same tone as she had all her other insults, but Weissme's heart skipped a beat at the word yijejo. Without visual Lonnie couldn't see his reaction, and continued unabated, "It's not my problem, it really isn't."

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Lonni, but..."

"If you hurt me? IF!" Lonni left no doubt about her fury at his word-choice, as she followed up with a long speech about what kind of rotten, fungus, covered, shit eating, piss drinking, limp-cocked, half-retarded, drug-addicted man, she would consider better at taking care of a family than Weissme.

Tears streamed down Weissme's cheeks. Not for himself, not even for his family. He had cried for them in the past, in secret, alone. Weissme cried because he knew how headstrong his former wife was; if she had made up her mind not to be bought, she couldn't be bought. 

He cried for Majgen.

"I lied," Weissme admitted in desperation.

"What did you say?"

"I lied, Lonni. I lied about why I wouldn't mind-share with you anymore. I lied about why I wouldn't see my grandchildren. I lied about why I always went away when our children came to visit. I lied about why I was hardly ever home." Weissme's voice was cracking. "I knew you knew I was lying. I knew you were hurting, but I never stopped lying."

Weissme tried to regain his composed voice, before he continued.

"I deserve no more from you than what you say, but I beg you, Lonni. This is not about me, the person I need you to help is not like me."

Lonni Weissme turned visual on, her former husband had not been prepared for that. He stared at her ruffled, yanked out of bed, appearance for a few seconds, before remembering his own tear-streamed face.

He hurried to a drawer and took a towel out to wipe his face. He would have preferred not to blow his nose too in front of his former wife, but it was either that or presenting a dribbling nose. Depositing the towel in the towel dispenser, he set his face in its usual neutral-friendly folds.

Lonni, was one of the few people he couldn't fool with a good act on long range visual, but that wouldn't keep him from trying to hide his emotions.

"What was the truth, Antwoine."

"You already know, Lonni. You knew all along, you just couldn't get it confirmed."

"That I was able to guess on my own didn't seem to be enough, but I want to hear it from you."

"You were right about it all along, Lonni. Can't we just leave it at that?" Weissme begged, "It is too late to try to repair our relationship, what good can it do to talk about it now."

"You owe it to me, Antwoine. Tell me or we are done talking."

"Lonni please, I'll do anything. Anything other than this. Please don't make me talk about this."

Lonni raised her hand and moved it towards the communicator control panel. Antwoine Weissme assumed she was going to terminate the connection:

"Wait!"

She lowered her hand.

"Hawlun," Weissme whispered, "I lied about Hawlun."

Lonni sat absolutely still her face unmoving, apart from wetness filling her eyes. She was waiting for the man, who had once been her husband through twenty-three years, to continue.

"I told you I only did administrative work. That was a lie." Weissme closed his eyes he couldn't look into her eyes, while telling this.

"I... I lied because of what I saw there myself, and what I sensed from the orphans. I could never tell you these things. You must never understand, never know, never see, what it was like. Not you, Lonni. Not my beautiful, loving, wonderful, Lonni."

"You were at Hawlun itself?" Lonni asked.

Weissme nodded, an expression Lonni had never seen on her former husbands face formed there, and disappeared again before she could interpret it.

"I was on the first rescue teams. I... I was in Hawlun from that moment and until the evacuation of the surviving was complete," Weissme paused, "Please don't ask me to tell you what I saw there."

"Antwoine, poor man. You shouldn't have kept this from me, together we could have made things ok again. You should..." She was interrupted by a brutal voice she had never heard from Antwoine Weissme before.

"You don't understand, you could never understand. Not without being there, not without seeing the memories of one of those children. It could never have been ok. Never. And I don't want you to understand. I want you and our children, to be able to live on, without being tainted by what happened at Hawlun."

"Antwoine, I followed the news-broadcasts. I know what happened at Hawlun."

"Facts, numbers, some images of dead bodies. They didn't show it all, and even if all the footage had been released, you still wouldn't understand."

"They told things that the footage didn't show too, Antwoine. In the years after, I've seen eye-witness accounts told by Hawlun-orphans. I know what went on there. It was horrible, horrid beyond belief," her words merely caused Weissme to shake his head.

"More footage was released over the years," Lonni continued unabated, "it became common knowledge that empaths who had worked extensively with Hawlun-orphans became mentally sick themselves, and distanced themselves from their spouses."

"Did you see the single published footage, of a bloodied eleven year old chewing on a dead woman?" Weissme asked.

"Yes, it was horrifying, but I forced myself to watch it. In spite of your lies I knew you had been working with Hawlun-orphans. I wanted to understand what you were going through. I thought that maybe you had seen something like that."

"That footage was nothing, there was never a day when such a sight was the worst we saw, while evacuating the children. Do you remember Seksaron Quarta?"

"Yes, I do. Oh no, Antwoine. Where you there when the wall collapsed on him?"

"There was no wall collapsing on Quarta, that was just another lie I told you. Quarta was with me from the start. He kept the same pace I did from the very start. Three days into the evacuation, we came across one of the cannibal kids.

"Not a cute apathetic one like the one you saw on the footage. That one was just mimicking, evil grief, the one you saw on footage had only made a few tooth-marks on the corpse. No. This one was one of the genuine little beast revertal, a human with the mind of a rabid dog, a seven year old boy, all teeth and growls. He had poked holes in his eyes, most likely with his fingers. Probably to escape the darkness.

"Quarta went to the boy and entered his mind. I guess he saw one too many Hawlun-memories. He picked up the boy, and then our old friend Quarta ran to a hole in the street and jumped in it. There was a two city-floor drop from that hole. What was later vacuumed up to be called 'Seksaron Quarta's earthly remains' could better be called 'Quarta and beast-boy'-soup."

Weissme stopped and took several fast breaths, he looked like an animal himself, Lonni was shocked. She had never seen this side of her husband.

"Lonni, the beautiful and untainted, do you want to know what I think about Quarta's jump? The honest truth?"

Lonni nodded, she didn't really, but she felt a need to. She needed to know what had cost her: her still living husband, her children: their still living father, and her grandchildren: their still living grandfather.

"I think Quarta did that boy a favour. I often wish I had had the guts to give my life to take one of the Hawlun-beast-revertals out of their misery."

"You are talking about human children, Antwoine, don't refer to them like that. It's wrong."

"Wrong. You have no idea how wrong they are, you have no idea what they are suffering every living second," Antwoine Weissme forced himself to stop the track he was about to go down.

"When I came home, I dared not mind share with you, because of the risk that I might accidentally share just a single short glimpse of Hawlun with you."

"What about our children, and grandchildren, why wouldn't you see them?" Lonni asked.

"Oh yes, that. That I will not explain. Not now, not ever. I love you too much for that, Lonni, and them too."

'And she could never understand, truly understand. What it meant to see, not just know, but see, that every adult in Hawlun had been killed. Every single one, not one was missed, the yijejos killed every single adult human there. More than a million adults, they killed them all, one by one. Sedate, bio-scan, kill. Only a few thousand yijejos entered Hawlun. How could I even explain what that math did to me?'

After Hawlun, every time Ottearon Weissme had seen his grown children - or his grandchildren - he imagined what would happen to them if the yijejos should invade their homes. He saw his grandchildren eating of his children's rotting corpses, or he saw his grandchildren alone in complete darkness. Screaming for the release of death.

"Lonni, for twenty-three years we were spouses, we were in love even longer than that. I need one favour from you, and then I promise I will stay out of your live again. Please, help me this once," he pleaded.

"What do you need?" she asked.

*

Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID ellynei)

Feedback means so much to me, pats on the back gives strength and confidence. Criticism opens my eyes to things I had not realised myself, and helps me evolve my writing.

***

Speaking of feedback, a personal message to one I cannot contact other ways than here in afterword:

Dear Anonymous in USA, who placed 'overdue comment' on Ch. 010.

Regarding the political reasons why Majgen was held back at rank 10, I thought I had explained that in Ch. 009 - subsection 'Potential', (and verified the explanation through the rest of 009). Was that the political aspect you were thinking of? It would be wonderful if you would contact me and tell me what is amiss on the politics side when reading 001-010 since I know the whole story myself, it is hard for me to see what I told well enough and what I didn't.

As for Majgen's sexuality and self-loathing: Yes it is my intention to resolve the questions raised about those too, but that will be slow.

As for early life problems yes, that was my intention too, in Ch. 011 and here in Ch. 012 the revelation has begun of the horrors of Hawlun.

Thank you for the feedback Anonymous in USA, I hope I will manage to retain your trust in the story. I am very happy you enjoyed all chapters one to ten, I hope you enjoyed eleven and twelve too, and hope you will enjoy the rest too.

***



Majgen Ch. 013



----=(Loke)=----

The water was soothing and warm as it ran down her hair and face. Majgen held her breath and enjoyed the massaging drumming of water droplets on her head. She often closed her eyes while showering in Baglian's apartment, even when water was not running down her face. She was still uncomfortable about the full wall mirror.

A few weeks earlier, Ottearon Weissme had let her return to Baglian.

She and Baglian had easily slipped into their old routines. As Majgen had anticipated, Baglian had recovered from his feelings of guilt regarding drugging her with grane and handing her over to Ottearon Weissme.

'Femaron Baglian is so easy to be with,' Majgen thought as she stepped away from the streams of water to smear soap on her body. 'Though I suppose not many of his previous students would agree with that.

'For me, he is the best teacher I ever met, and also the only mentarion who seems capable of tolerating the daily loss of privacy.'

Baglian was also a very demanding mentor, who required his students to strive for excellence in every aspect of their training, but Majgen did not mind. She wanted to learn as swiftly and as thoroughly as possible. She longed to gain the skills needed to work therapeutically as a mentarion.

'Femaron Baglian has five hours of intense empathic activity in him per day, my empathic stamina is strong enough for me to be empathically active indefinitely,' Majgen thought. This was a trait possessed by all mentarions with potential of Syvaron and above.

'I am Niaron potential, or above. Even if I will never be allowed to graduate, my potential can be utilised, if I learn how to use it.' Having tested her power against Ottearon Weissme, who was placed in the high end of Ottearon potential, she knew that Femaron Baglian's estimate of her potential had been right.

'After all, that was the reason they originally chose to assign me to Femaron Baglian. They thought that because he was arrogant, he would automatically take credit for all my work, without even being told to do so. I guess I was lucky they didn't know him better than that.' Majgen smiled bleakly at the irony of someone believing Femaron Baglian would even consider taking the credit for someone else's work. 'He considers his own skills to be supreme. Femaron Baglian would think that if any other person's doings was credited to him, he would appear less skilled than he is.' She stepped back under the water to wash the soap off.

'Not that he is entirely wrong: he is extremely skilled, and his self-discipline is nearly inhuman.'

Majgen and Baglian's relationship had not developed into any degree of friendship, neither of them wanted it to.

Majgen respected her personal teacher professionally. She appreciated how his skills enabled him to help people. She was thankful that Baglian didn't suffer under the loss of mental privacy, which was inevitable if she was to be trained by him. After more than half a year of sensing Ottearon Weissme's personal conflicts; it was a relief to live with someone who had no conscious conflicts with himself. At least not on an everyday basis.

'I was right that coming back to Femaron Baglian would make my training progress faster. It is far harder to follow Femaron Baglian's training programs than it was Ottearon Weissme's, but the hard work pays off. During these first two weeks back with Femaron Baglian, I've learned more than I did in my the last two months with Ottearon Weissme.'

The soap was rinsed off, but Majgen stayed under the running water, relaxing. Baglian wasn't home, and she had no pressing duties to attend to; Baglian had decreased his demands on her education in non-empathic areas. Now, they both knew she would be allowed to perform mentarion work while still a rank 10 student, so neither had a strong motive towards her gaining the full knowledge expected to be held by a graduated mentarion. The prime priority for both was to raise her empathic skills to a level that would allow her to perform mentarion tasks.

Majgen didn't hear the shower door open, but she sensed the presence of another empath as soon as one stepped in. She spun round to face the intruder. Blood rushed to her face when she saw a man dressed in Firearon uniform looking back at her.

"Hi there," he said, as if talking to naked showering strangers was the most natural thing in the world, "Where is Hiro hiding?"

"Femaron Baglian is not home," Majgen replied and raised her arms to cover her breasts.

"Oh," the Firearon ran his eyes over her body. Majgen raised her mind shield.

'How did he get in here?' she wondered, 'Baglian never keeps the apartment unlocked.'

Majgen expected the stranger to leave the bathroom now that she had informed him Baglian was not to be found there, but instead of leaving the Firearon leaned his back on the wall next to the door.

'This short black-haired beauty is an empath of mentarion strength.' Loke had sensed her emanations a fraction of a second sooner than he had seen her with his eyes.

Empaths weren't usually whimsical about nudity.

Most mentarion-strength empaths were discovered before reaching the age of seven, and in empathic sub-societies children were raised with a greater understanding of natural urges - not simply because adult empaths mostly understood those matters better than non-empaths, but also out of simple necessity. If empathic teenagers, in general, ran around with a strong confusion regarding their developing sexuality -- as was so characteristic for non-empathic teens -- direct chaos would ensue, caused by the effects such teens' emanations would have on other empaths.

Non-empaths could neither feel nor be affected by emanations. 

Empathic youngsters were protected from sexual abuse by law same as non-empathic ones, and adolescent empaths were as likely to experiment with each other, as the non-empathic teens. There was a marked difference, however, in their attitude to the restrictions placed on them by their elders. Young empathic teens understood that when sex was forbidden to them, it was not because sex was taboo. They knew it was because the natural development of a youth's sexuality could be obstructed if engaging in an active sex-life too early in their sexual development.

When Firearon Loke met a naked female mentarion in Baglian's bathroom; he saw no need to run out as if her naked body was shocking to him - which would have been the proper reaction had the naked woman not been an empath.

"I see that the ever voracious Hiro, has opened his eyes to new hunting fields. Or should I say old." Firearon Loke gave Majgen a mischievous grin. "Haven't seen him go after flesh as young as yours since his own was equally fresh."

Loke ran his eyes over Majgen's body again, with interested scrutiny.

"I can see the attraction, though." Loke moved his eyes to hers. "If you appreciate Baglian's moves, you should consider checking out those of his teacher. I may be ten years older, but I stay fit." He winked at her. Even though his words were playful, he was serious about the offer they implied.

"Get OUT!" Majgen yelled.

"What's wrong?" Firearon Loke was genuinely puzzled.

"Get out right now, or I swear I'll blast you unconscious." Majgen was serious. Her anger was unmistakable in her emanations.

'What's her problem?' Loke wondered to himself, even as he decided to do as she demanded, having obtained the entirely accurate impression that the young woman was preparing to mind shock him for all she was worth.

With the intruder out of the bathroom, Majgen turned off the water, dried herself, and dressed, as fast as she could, all the while keeping an eye on the bathroom door.

By the time Majgen got out of the bathroom, Loke had made himself comfortable in Baglian's living-room, had settled in a couch where he watched the viewer while eating a bag of cookies from Baglian's kitchen.

When Majgen found him there she recognised him from Baglian's memories.

'He is Firearon Loke, the mentarion Baglian studied under as an Etaron.' With this knowledge came understanding of how he had come into the apartment. Baglian had given his former mentor, and current friend, a key to his Drom apartment years earlier.

Loke studied the, now dressed and less agitated, young woman.

"Why are you wearing a tenth ranked student uniform?" he asked.

"Because I am a Tenth Ranked Student, Firearon," Majgen replied formally.

"And why are you a Tenth Ranked Student at your age?" he inquired.

"May I offer you a hot beverage, Firearon?"

"You just ignored a direct question from someone of higher rank." Firearon Loke stuffed a cookie into his mouth and started chewing before speaking on with a full mouth, "that's not very mentarion-like."

"Mentarions who are not very mentarion-like, sometimes choose not to rise so high within the mentarion rank system," Majgen countered, walking to the drink cabinet to make Loke a hot drink. She had figured out which drink he would like to have with his cookies, even though he himself was not aware he felt like one at all.

"True. But staying at student rank 10 is a bit exaggerated."

"Some consider student rank 10 quite appropriate for someone as troublesome as me, Firearon." Majgen, who had her back to Loke, knew very well that he would be able to sense a discrepancy in her emanations regarding those words.

"Are you troublesome?"

"I can be, Firearon," Majgen said enigmatically, weaving her words carefully, adapting to the unusual circumstances. She was not afraid of being punished by Firearon Loke for avoiding his questions. Femaron Baglian, her personal teacher, was one rank higher than Loke, so Loke couldn't legally harm her.

She had no intention to share politically sensitive information with the Firearon. He had no means to punish her, so she was not afraid of dancing around his questions -- which she did, like a pea would dance around a plate if someone tried to fork it rather than scooping it up.

Majgen started brewing a hot, cold, sweet, combination dessert drink, with her back to the Firearon.

"What are you doing in Hiro's apartment?" he asked.

"I am the personal student of Femaron Baglian, Firearon." This question she did not need to avoid.

"So you and Baglian aren't banging hips?" The Firearon's words woke a rather graphic image in Majgen's head.

"No, Firearon, me and Baglian do not engage in sexual activities with each other, Firearon Loke," she said, and concentrated on the beverage she was preparing, trying to force the last remnant of the unpleasant image out of her head.

'She knows my name,' Loke noticed.

"Wanna bang hips with me then?"

Majgen nearly dropped a full bowl of sugar into the brew, she was not accustomed to anyone making advances to her, especially not in such a direct manner.

Loke perceived her answer long before she gathered sufficient composure to reply.

"No, Firearon, I do not."

"Not that I blame you," Loke said honestly, "I probably got kids older than you."

"Probably?" Majgen asked, wanting to turn the conversation away from herself.

"Yeah, you know, mentarion duty, keep the empath gene pool out there. I sperm-banked when I was a late teen. I probably got around a thousand kids by now." Loke digged deep in the cookie bag to find a hazelnut cookie while talking. "Heck, maybe you are my kid."

The viewer caught Firearon Loke's full attention for a while, as one of his favourite comedians took the stage. This gave Majgen the opportunity to prepare his beverage without further distractions. It took her about ten more minutes to complete the complex layered beverage known as 'Eleven Layers of Heaven'. In first class restaurants it was expensive; in lower class restaurants it was not available. Majgen had learned to make it during her time as a caterer's youth worker.

She placed a table in front of Firearon Loke, who was too absorbed in the stand up show to pay attention to her. She placed the drink in front of him and went to make herself an ordinary fruit tea.

With tea in hand Majgen seated herself in a couch next to the one Loke sat in. Loke's favourite comedian was closing his act.

By the time the comedian waved his hands and walked off stage, the Firearon was cracking with laughter. Majgen was not used to seeing such unrestrained behaviour in a graduated mentarion, but she enjoyed his uninhibited laughter. Eventually it dampened to the level of giggles, and he noticed the beverage in front of him. His eyes went wide with surprise.

'Like a little child,' Majgen mused to herself. She had caught many of Baglian's memories of Firearon Loke. Apart from him walking in during her shower, and his later referrals to hip-banging, Majgen was happy to have been given this chance to meet the unusual Firearon.

"Eleven Layers of Heaven! Where did you get this?"

"I made it," Majgen replied honestly. Loke eyed her with wonder as his empathic senses verified the truth of her words. He pulled the table closer and attacked the drink. An expression of pure pleasure spread over his face, as he tasted how expertly his favourite delicacy had been prepared.

Majgen smiled to herself while sipping her cup of tea.

'I still got the knack for it,' she thought.

"It's a shame you aren't interested in sexual intimacy with me," Loke said, startling Majgen back into embarrassment. "After giving me a drink like this, you would have earned at least twenty minutes of oral action."

Loke analysed the change in Majgen's emanations closely.

"You really are quite a prude aren't you?" he asked.

"By Femaron Baglian's standard I am, Firearon Loke." Majgen couldn't think of another way to answer his question.

That reply caused Loke to laugh again.

"By Hiro Baglian's standards I am a prude," Loke explained, "I remember once, when Hiro was a Trearon, and was stationed close to where I was, he called me long range audio-visual and I could see these three gorgeous identical triplets standing around him. Hiro seems to be able to reel any female in once he sets his mind to it. Well anyhow, he had brought these three triplets home and he asked me to..." Loke stopped there, realising that the full story about Hiro and the identical triplets wouldn't be appreciated by present company.

Loke didn't know Majgen had perceived his memory of the incident as soon as he had started talking about it. Her cheeks weren't just burning because Loke had been about to tell her a dirty story, she was embarrassed because she knew what he had been about to say next.

"Well, point is," Loke said, "Hiro asked me to do something and I said no, so he called me a prude."

Loke turned his attention back to his delicious drink, while waiting for the young woman to regain her composure. After a few minutes of watching the viewer and drinking in silence, the unusually shy mentarion seemed to have recovered from the story Loke had almost told, so Loke talked again.

"Where is Hiro anyway?"

"Femaron Baglian is..." Majgen took a moment to find the proper phrasing. "...out for the evening, being voracious, Firearon Loke."

Loke rewarded her use of his wording -- for Hiro Baglian -- with genuine laughter, but didn't lead the conversation further into that topic.

"You were discovered late, weren't you?" he asked instead.

'He came to that conclusion, because he considers me sexually inhibited - for an empath.'

"Yes, Firearon Loke."

"How late?"

"I was thirteen, Firearon."

Loke had expected her to be an unusually late discovery for a mentarion, but thirteen was far later than he could have imagined.

"It must have been hard to join the empathic world at such a late age." Suspecting that the topic might be sensitive, Loke was careful not to phrase his words as a question. Her emotional response to his words proved his suspicion right.

Majgen nodded.

"Well, now I understand why you are a Tenth Ranked Student."

Majgen looked at him with surprise.

"Well... I mean... I know it's a sensitive topic to you... But since you are mentarion strength, and in tenth ranked uniform as an adult... and uhm... considering how shy you are about... ah... talking about intimate matters." Loke paused to find a less awkward way to get around the topic without embarrassing the young woman too much.

"I just mean, with all this added up, it is obvious you were placed on anti-empathic drugs for a couple of years, while your sexuality settled."

"So you like stand up comedians?" Majgen abruptly changed the subject, not only because she wanted Loke to hang on to his false assumption of why she was still a Tenth Ranked Student; she was genuinely uncomfortable about conversations relating to sexual matters, especially when the topic of such a conversation was herself. Loke acceded to her obvious desire to change the direction of their talk, and began to converse the young lady on matters of comedians and humour.

Within the mentarion minority a rebel at heart like Firearon Loke was extremely unusual. His hair was a mess. His uniform was untidy and wrinkled - even torn in several places.

'Femaron Baglian always suspected that Firearon Loke's bad hair days were not accidental,' Majgen thought to herself, 'but he never knew for sure.' She giggled as she acquired images from Loke's emanations of the methods he used to keep his hair in such extreme disarray.

Her secret entertainment was well hidden by the amusement Loke knowingly inspired in her with his jokes and funny accounts of the world of comedy. Loke was quite a comedian himself; his play with words caused Majgen to forget her earlier discomfort. Soon he had the young woman falling into fits of laughter, like a little girl. Within half an hour Majgen's stomach was hurting from the unaccustomed strain of laughing heavily. But this gave her no regrets: she was happy, overjoyed, and most importantly: not lonely.

From comedians the conversation moved to movies and then, as Firearon Loke praised the beverage she had made for him, to drinks and delicacies. Firearon Loke began recounting experiences of buying hand-mixed drinks: vividly painting detailed pictures of his experiences.

Alongside his words, Majgen also followed his actual memories of the events he described, they came to her through his emanations.

"What's so funny? I didn't get to the punch-line yet?" Firearon Loke asked when, for the fifth time in a row, Majgen's sense of humour started bubbling too early in one of his tales.

Majgen didn't know how to reply without revealing how much she could sense from his emanations, but one of Loke's own assumptions came to her rescue.

"You knew of this incident from Hiro before I came?"

To this Majgen could honestly nod yes. She had absorbed Baglian's memory of that particular story too. She had also, however, gained Loke's memory of it now, and it was his memory that had caused her giggles. Had Loke paid heed to her premature laughter when telling a story she hadn't perceived from Baglian, she would not have been able to explain it inconspicuously.

From that point in the conversation Majgen blocked Loke's emanations out of her mind - as she had learned in her time with Baglian. Her purpose: to not inadvertently reveal her special perceptive abilities.

Loke had noticed a discrepancy in Majgen's emanations when she nodded. He could sense she was not directly lying, but he could also tell something was amiss.

'There is something odd about her,' he thought, as he continued to other tales from the world of beverages, cafés and restaurants. 'She is a warm and immediate person, though. Not your typical mentarion. She seems to suffer even more under the limitations of the mentarion ways, than I do.' Loke had the distinct impression that Majgen was not used to laughing freely, as she did with him.




Majgen Ch. 013



'Of course, being a mere rank 10 student she doesn't have the option to act as openly rebellious as I do.'

Now that she no longer followed Loke's thoughts and memories, Majgen laughed at the appropriate places in his stories. Loke had quite an arsenal of stories and did his best to keep her laughing.

"...and you won't believe what he did next!" Loke was preparing to finish one of his longer accounts of an example of bad service. With her background in catering the young woman seemed to enjoy these the most.

"What did he do?" Majgen's eyes were practically shining with anticipation of hearing what happened next.

"He poured salted crisp flakes over the upper sweet layer!"

"He didn't!" Majgen exclaimed, shocked by such bad judgement in a bartender.

"He most certainly did." Loke enjoyed the giggles his story woke in the black-haired beauty.

'I'd really wish she was as interested in my body as in my wit,' he thought to himself. He had abandoned all thoughts of attempting to seduce the attractive woman. In spite of his wishes -- that there could have been more -- he was still happy just to have an enjoyable conversation with the younger mentarion.

'I don't even know her name yet.'

Once Majgen had giggled sufficiently over the atrocity of salted crisp flakes on a motmot beverage, Loke continued his story.

"So I put on my best mentarion face." Loke adopted an expression of mentarion dignity, the type of expression Majgen was so used to seeing on the faces of graduated mentarions. Majgen watched with fascination as he let the expression disappear again.

"And then I turned my face to him really slowly." Loke put on the mentarion mask of dignity again, to demonstrate. Majgen giggled as once again his face took on a more natural expression for further narration.

"And I gave him one of those mentarion stares, you know what I'm talking about, the one with which mentarions try to say, I am a wise mentarion! You know nothing!"

Majgen had never heard a mentarion make fun of the Mentarion Ways in such a fashion, but she knew exactly what he meant.

"I said, 'are you going to make me a new one or would you prefer a referral to the nearest clinic for the irrevocably insane?' "

"You really said that?"

"I did."

"That's cruel." Majgen couldn't help but giggle yet again.

"Not as cruel as spraying salted crisp flakes on a motmot!" Again adopting his 'dignified mentarion' expression, Loke cited a phrase from a popular classic movie that told the life story of a fictional mentarion:

"We, the mentarions, the few amongst the many. We who carry this gift. This burden. We must stand up for what is right. We who know the secrets of the mind: We must be the ones to not relent!" His enactment caused Majgen's giggles to grow into uncontrollable, almost hysterical, laughter.

For a couple of hours Loke and Majgen talked. Loke tried to urge the woman, whom he still thought of as 'the Black-Haired Beauty', to recount some tales of her own, but Majgen avoided speaking of her own past. His subtle attempts to make her reveal more of herself were all resisted.

'I'd really like to know more about you, my Black-Haired Enigma. Why won't you tell me more?' Loke's eyes studied the top-secret marking patterns attached to her tenth-ranked uniform. 'I'm almost glad she has those. Without them the temptation to order her to lower her mind shield would have been hard to resist.'

Loke disagreed with many of the mentarion laws, especially those that allowed higher ranking mentarions to enter the minds of the lower ranked, with or without permission. He considered a forced entry to another's mind to be as abusive as rape. Even without the governmental security markings on Majgen's uniform he would, in reality, not have abused his superior rank to force his way into her mind.

The evening turned into night, and Loke began demonstrating the variety of his music collection. He plugged his wallet into Baglian's living-room to give the music he kept stored in it the justice of fully directional and surrounding sound.

He hoped to convince Majgen to dance with him, even if only for a few moments, but she kept insisting that she couldn't dance. He attempted several ploys to get her on her feet, including clownish acts and demonstrations of the most absurd dance steps he had learned in his sixty-three years. His efforts earned him more of those heart-warming smiles and giggles, but her determination not to dance seemed immovable.

'I will not give up, everyone has a soft spot for rhythm somewhere. Just gotta find the tune she can't resist.' Loke was well aware that he had developed a soft spot for the young mentarion. He was also well aware that, although she seemed to fully enjoy his company, she did not appear to have an equal soft spot for him.

'I am headed straight for a broken heart,' Loke reminded himself when, after testing seven different types of music, he finally managed to get Majgen to her feet.

Loke was trying not to fool himself, but the temptation to allow his feelings for her to grow and develop was strong.

'It isn't the age difference,' Loke thought, 'she seems to be as indifferent to that detail as I am. She just simply doesn't seem to have just the slightest romantic interest in me.'

Majgen allowed him to hold her hands while he showed her some simple dance steps, and Loke decided that sometimes it was worth it; to stay on an elevator even when you knew it was likely to crash.

--=(o)=--

Baglian's latest conquest had had a refreshingly voracious appetite for physical intimacy; he was positively drained by the time he got home. As he opened the door to his apartment he was surprised to be met by loud music.

"Turn it off," he yelled while closing the door. 'Since when does Student Majgen play loud music while I'm out?'

Instead of disappearing the music was turned up even more.

"TURN IT OFF," Baglian bellowed and began taking his shoes off. 'If she heard me the first time, I'll make sure she can't sit for a week.' Baglian couldn't stand fast beat dance music.

The volume of the music was turned up a further notch.

Instead of depositing his shoes in the hallway shoe-cabinet Baglian kicked them to a corner and headed for the living-room with a malicious stride.

There he was met by an unexpected sight.

His old friend, Firearon Loke, stood next to the living room control panel. The unorthodox Firearon physically struggled with the shorter Student Majgen, apparently to keep her from the control panel.

Baglian spoke some of his personalised voice settings to turn off the noise. He couldn't hear his own voice through the loud music. The living-room's computer, however, could, and obediently shut off the music.

In the sudden silence Majgen immediately ceased her attempts to get to the control panel and stepped back from Firearon Loke. Her face was flushed from physical exercise. She didn't notice the slight dismay passing over Loke's face, and through his emanations, as he was deprived of physical contact with her. Baglian did.

"My apologies for the noise, Femaron Baglian," Majgen said, by mentarion tradition not making excuses for herself without first being prompted to do so.

"You are forgiven, Student Majgen," Baglian told her and continued, "I can see you did your best to comply with my orders." He turned his attention to Loke.

"Firearon Loke, it is good to see you." Baglian bowed to his old friend.

"Hiro! You old steam-pump, come here and give me a hug!" Loke did not wait to see if Baglian would comply with his request, instead he trampled towards Baglian with arms outstretched.

"If you bend one of my ribs, I'll break your legs," Baglian warned the enthusiastic Firearon. 

Majgen was surprised at Baglian, she had never heard him openly deliver a joke before.

"Don't be such a sissy, Hiro. If it hurts, it's 'cause you need a thicker hide!" Loke pushed his own arms under Baglian's, hence gaining a firm hold round the Femaron's ribcage.

Loke tightened his grip with all his might. From the pained expression on her teacher's face Majgen came to the understanding that Baglian's threat had not been spoken entirely in gest.

"Make us some mocca, Student," Baglian ordered when he had finally been released from Loke's torturous greeting. Apparently his ribs were still intact.

"Mocca! How can you ask for mere mocca when you have a first class bartender in your charge." Loke's outburst of pretend outrage drew a giggle from Majgen, in spite of her mentor's presence.

"What would you like then?" Baglian ignored his friend's foolery.

"Eleven Layers of Heaven, nothing less will do." Loke turned to Majgen. "I was hoping you would teach me how to make a good Eleven Layers of Heaven."

"If my mentor does not object, Firearon, I can show you how I make it, Firearon Loke," Majgen said, and bowed politely in the mentarion fashion. His black-haired beauty's sudden return to strict adherence to mentarion etiquette made Loke feel like he had just been showered with ice.

"I do object, Student Majgen," Baglian said, "Go to bed, Student, I want to be alone with my old friend."

Majgen obediently bowed to the two graduated mentarions and left the living-room.

Baglian observed how Loke's eyes trailed after Majgen.

'Lovesick,' Baglian thought. 'That must have happened fast, I have been out for less than eight hours.'

Baglian moved to the drink cabinet, to make mocca for himself and his friend. He remained quiet till he heard the door to Majgen's room close.

"Get it out of your head, Soren. You can't have her."

Firearon Soren Loke didn't move his eyes from where Majgen had left the living-room, when he spoke to his old friend.

"What do you know about love, Hiro? You have always avoided it."

"Well for one thing, I know it takes two for it to lead anywhere." Baglian stirred the two cups of mocca with a rod, to dissolve the powder. He had no patience to brew in a more old-fashioned way -- when his student was not available to do it for him.

Both men remained silent while Baglian finished their drinks.

"For another thing, I know that people hurt when love comes, but does not lead anywhere," Baglian presented his friend with a cup of hot mocca.

Loke accepted the cup and seated himself in a couch. Baglian seated himself opposite his friend.

"Majgen Rahan is a very lonely young woman, Soren. She could use a friend, or even a parental figure, but she really does not need a lovesick sixty-three year-old trailing after her like a puppy."

"Are you saying, I can't have her because I'm too old?" Loke could think of all sorts of arguments against the age difference. He still had at least seventy years left in him before his age was likely to become a life-threatening condition. Even the best relationships rarely lasted that long.

"Majgen Rahan doesn't need a youth trailing her either," Baglian elaborated, "She is a late bloomer. She has had a hard life, Soren." Baglian's eyes locked mercilessly with Loke's.

"She is a Hawlun-orphan, Soren."

Loke paled, but Baglian kept talking.

"Not only that, she has been exposed to extensive abuse during her teens." Baglian clearly sensed how his words woke strong protective emotions in Firearon Loke, but Baglian was not done.

"Somehow she has managed to survive it all without going insane," Baglian said, "However, Soren, she needs time to find herself. Her identity as an adult."

"And you can help her with that better than I can?" Soren said, and eyed Baglian with frank skepticism, "You are one of the coldest men, I've ever met."

"Nobody can help her become a woman inside, as she is on the outside, Soren. But since I am such a cold man, I have no problem stepping aside and allowing her to develop in her own speed."

"I'm not a complete idiot, Femaron Baglian, I wouldn't harm her or try to keep her in an immature version of herself."

"Oh, it's Femaron Baglian now is it. Well I will be Femaron Baglian then, Soren. If you don't get your emotions under control, if you persist with chasing my student as a spouse prospect, then I will ban you from my apartment, and for years you will not be able to even see her."

'Would you really do that to me, Hiro?' Loke wondered, behind his raised mind shield, but remained silent.

"I am sorry, Soren, but Student Majgen is my responsibility. I know you haven't been in love for decades, and I realise she possesses many of the qualities you have always desired in a partner but I just can't allow you to pursue her. If you have to love her, then love her like a father, or a brother. You can even love her as a friend. But you can't be her lover, Soren. Not now."

"So you keep her locked in here? Away from all men? How can that be healthy for her? Tell me that, Hiro."

"Not all men, Soren, just the ones who are in love with her. And of those only the ones whom she isn't in love with." Baglian sighed. "Soren, try to listen to me for a second, without considering me an insensitive monster."

"That would be a lot easier if I thought there was room for anything other than duty and sex in your emotional spectrum, Hiro."

"Let us pretend you keep going down this track." Baglian ignored the offensive comment. "Let us pretend I don't kick you out, Soren. Then you go to bed and twist and turn all night, making plans for how to make her think of you in romantic ways."

Baglian kept looking into Loke's eyes, while continuing the narration.

"Then tomorrow morning, when Student Majgen serves us our breakfast you will look at her with those sleep deprived puppy eyes. I don't know why she hasn't been paying attention to your emanations today, but tomorrow morning she will notice how you feel about her. How do you think she will react to your feelings, Soren?"

"She will feel flattered, Hiro, even if I'm just an old fool and she doesn't want me. A woman finds it flattering when someone falls for her charms." Loke smiled at his own inadequasy. "I'm just a harmless old fool. But even fools can dream."

"That is how a woman would react, Soren," Baglian replied, resuming his speech, "but as I said Majgen is a late bloomer, and she is very lonely. Not to mention very warm, caring and prone to self-sacrifice. She would react with attempts to give you what you desire.

"You know even better than I do, Soren, that love cannot be forced. But Majgen would attempt to do just that. For your sake. Not because there is something special about you. Not because you might be everything she desires. She would do it because she would feel you needed her to." Baglian took a sip of his mocca after finishing his speech.

"You are exaggerating, Hiro." Loke tried to sound confident.

"No. I am not, Soren. Majgen is mentally sound, but she doesn't like herself all that much. She has too many emotional conflicts she yet needs to deal with. If she was given a choice between taking care of herself or sacrificing herself for a complete stranger, she would choose the stranger. And I am guessing that after a couple hours of being exposed to your charm, you mean more to her than a stranger."

The two men went quiet after Baglian's speech. Loke had a lot to think about.

After a few minutes Loke had made up his mind.

"There is only one cure for a hopeless crush," Loke said, "Bonka and prostitutes."

Baglian groaned at the mention of the detested Ceasarian alcoholic drink.

"Do I have to drink Bonka?"

"It's the only way you can save your young student from a dirty old man, Hiro."

"Do I have to hire a prostitute for myself too?"

"Absolutely, Hiro. I never frequent whorehouses alone."

"All-right, I'm a mentarion; I'll adhere to my duty." Baglian got on his feet. He walked to his medical cabinet and retrieved some aphrodisiac drugs. He poured himself some water and swallowed the green pills.

"Since when does the Ever Voracious Hiro Baglian need aphrodisiacs to perform in the sheets?" Loke asked, genuinely a little puzzled.

"Since he spent six hours being eaten alive by a freshly released ex-con," Baglian replied, and swallowed the last pill. "Here is a free piece of advice, Soren: if a woman has spent more than five years in a uni-gender prison, don't go there without back-up. She was insatiable."

"Oh, really. Maybe we should visit her before going to a whore-house," Soren mused as they started moving out of the living-room.

"When I said 'insatiable', I of course meant 'if I had been any other man than Hiro Baglian'. You should know that, Soren," Baglian bragged without a shed of self-irony.

"Of course you did, Hiro."

"You know, Soren, we don't have to hire prostitutes. I can get us hooked up with some fine women in no time. There are some nice bars only five minutes travel from here." Baglian's voice contained a slightly pleading tone, while he opened the apartment's front door and walked out.

"You really think I want a man who looks like blood-smeared eggnog to reel in babes for me? No, thanks. We are going to a whore-house." Loke was immovable.

"The uniform might look ugly, but that never slowed me down, Soren," Baglian stated, waving off Loke's old derogatory joke about the colouring of the Femaron uniform.

#

 Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID ellynei)

Thanks for the extensive editorial advice on this chapter P. hope you will think I put it to good use. 



Majgen Ch. 014



----=(Rasta's teachings)=----

During her time at the Mentariata, Majgen was assigned to a multitude of private teachers. Prior to the incident with Femaron Braygen, and his pet-memories, Ottearon Weissme put an effort into communicating with those who gave her private lessons, to see how the child was getting along and to ease her transition into the mentarion sub-society. Weissme was strongly motivated to this end by the guilt he felt for having covered the circumstances regarding her discovery.

Weissme had also developed a personal fondness for the shy teen. He felt he could see warmth when looking into her eyes. He felt that looking into Majgen's eyes was a bit like looking into the eyes of a toddler; he felt she had somehow retained some of the basic innocence of a small child. Ottearon Weissme had the distinct impression that deep down Majgen still believed in good. To Weissme that seemed miraculous in itself. It seemed miraculous because of what had happened to her the day he first saw her, and it seemed miraculous because she was a Hawlun orphan. Weissme had never before met a Hawlun orphan with warm eyes.

Ottearon Weissme liked Tenth Ranked Student Majgen Rahan; while she studied at the Mentariata, Weissme never allowed the troubles and worries caused by her presence to affect his personal feelings towards her. But he didn't let his personal feelings towards Majgen push him from the path of adhering to his duties towards society either. The insecure teened child woke warm protective feelings in him, but ultimately Majgen Rahan was a resource and Majgen Rahan was a liability. Ottearon Weissme, leader of the Mentariata and high ranking mentarion, had a duty to control the liability and extract the resource.

----=(o)=----

"I have to say, Ottearon, we have a lot of work ahead of us in shaping this particular girl into a mature mentarion - within a reasonable time frame. Sometimes I am tempted to doubt the level of her intelligence, Ottearon Weissme," said Femaron Rasta.

"Oh, she is that troublesome, Femaron?" asked Weissme, trying to take Rasta's complaints seriously, at least while being face to face with him.

Weissme had invited Femaron Friedric Rasta to his private quarters -- partly under cover of social interaction -- to gain a detailed report of Majgen's progress in her private lessons with the Femaron.

At the Mentariata all members of the normal teaching staff were ranked Femaron; other mentarion schools employed teachers of varying ranks, but Weissme found rank differences between colleagues in equal positions to be inefficient. He had a few higher ranked mentarions in his staff, but these were hired for very specific teaching tasks. Hence he was still able to divide his staff into normal teaching staff, consisting of Femarons only, and his specialised teaching staff - of varying ranks.

Femaron Rasta was part of the normal teaching staff.

"Actually, Ottearon, she is. Student Majgen does give some effort to adhering to rules. By now she has realised that in mentarion schools disobedience has consequences, Ottearon Weissme..."

Rasta's tirade was politely interrupted by Weissme.

"Please, Friedric, while we are in my private quarters, call me Antwoine." Weissme was Rasta's employer, and of higher rank, and they were in his private quarters; by the Mentarion Ways the decision to switch to first name basis was solely his.

"Thank you, Antwoine," said Rasta, properly impressed by the gesture. Weissme usually reserved first name basis for private conversations with friends. After years of teaching at the Mentariata, Rasta was fully aware of this.

"Please continue." Weissme did not consider Rasta a friend, but he had felt a need to distract the Femaron, not wanting his own emotional spectre to be too thoroughly noticed by the Femaron.

"Ah, yes, as I was saying: She is more obedient than she was at first, and she finally masters the proper forms of address of the Mentarion Ways. But frankly, Antwoine, the girl is inherently insolent."

"Please elaborate, Friedric, I would like to hear more of your opinion on this matter." Weissme phrased his words carefully to not really be lies. This was the subject for which he had needed to distract Femaron Rasta; his actual thought behind this phrase was somewhat different.

'How come so many, usually intelligent, members of my staff -- independent of each other --refer to Student Majgen as insolent?'

In his search to pinpoint the widespread dislike of Majgen amongst his staff Weissme had tried to interrogate some members of his staff whom he considered 'usually intelligent'. But when those had mentioned Majgen's 'insolent behaviour' they had immediately understood that Weissme did not consider Student Majgen to be insolent. And from that point in the conversation each one of them had clammed shut, evading the subject to the best of their abilities. Hence Weissme now resorted to finding knowledge from a less intelligent source - Femaron Rasta.

As Weissme had hoped, his distraction worked perfectly. Rasta didn't catch on to Weissme's opinion of Majgen's insolence, and spoke on uninhibited -- not realising he was possibly in disagreement with an Ottearon.

"She is an immensely frustrating Student, Antwoine. Yesterday I had her in for only one lesson, and she said, 'I don't get it,' eight times within the first twenty minutes. And this was on a simple subject, most of the children know this already before coming to the Mentariata."

'Yes, she doesn't have the same background as most mentarion strength empaths,' Weissme thought to himself, 'but how does this nuisance, of having to explain things the others take for granted, lead to an impression of insolence? That's what I want to know.'

Rasta spoke on, completely unaware of Weissme's speculations.

"Now that was very frustrating in itself, it was. But I did not take the frustrations out on her, Antwoine. From teaching the youngest classes I have extensive experience in controlling my temper upon meeting slow perception in students."

"You do indeed, Friedric, your patience with your students is renowned all over the school. It has won you a great deal of respect," said Weissme. These words were absolutely true, although mentally Weissme couldn't help but add, 'If not for this respect, you might very well have been the laughing stock of the teaching staff, Friedric.' But Weissme only added this to himself, silently, in his thoughts.

If there was a village idiot in the teaching staff, then Femaron Rasta was it. He was not stupid, and not really unintelligent either, although those talking to him often got that impression. Rasta just didn't often bother to think things through, as a side effect this made him immensely naive too. A factor which Weissme took advantage of this day, to gain the understanding he sought.

"That was a very kind thing to say, Antwoine."

"Well deserved, Friedric. You do a great job with the youngsters, the smallest truly benefit from your patience." Weissme's words were sincere. He had chosen Femaron Rasta to teach Majgen the basics of the Mentarion Ways because of this same patience.

'The poor girl really needs a few steady rocks here in the school, and I never saw a rock as steady as good old Femaron Rasta. He may not be the smartest, but he has a heart of gold and the temper to use it.'

Prior to this talk, Weissme hadn't been sure Rasta considered Majgen to be insolent. His suspicion of it was based purely on statistics; every other teacher he had talked to had such an opinion of Majgen.

The praise from Weissme, backed by the honesty of the genuine respect he felt towards Rasta -- in the area of patience and temper -- distracted Rasta even more than first name basis had. The Femaron remained unsuspecting, did not realise he was being played into telling the Ottearon what others wouldn't.

"It is not that she sets out to be insolent, Antwoine. She isn't that kind of troublemaker, she just happens to have a natural talent for insult. I spent twenty minutes explaining the mechanics of mentarion rank to her. A topic we worked on the previous lesson too. She just didn't seem able to grasp it, other empathic children knows this stuff from kindergarten. Student Majgen had only heard of it from popular culture, primarily from movies and serial fictional entertainment broadcasts."

Weissme nodded in response to Antwoine's description, he was well aware what level of insight to the Mentarion Ways the average non-empathic teen had.

"Student Majgen had studied her homework," continued Rasta. "She had even memorised several sections of it. She isn't lazy. Just not very bright it seems. I spent twenty full minutes explaining over and over, with different wording, how the mentarion rank system works. Sometimes she interrupted me with questions regarding politics and positions. I don't really understand why, except it seemed to bother her that the ruling politicians in the Mentaricon are all above Syvaron rank."

Femaron Rasta blew a long sigh before talking on, he really had been agitated, and he had yet to reach the worst part of his tale.

"I had to stop and explain to her that by the Mentarion Ways only those ranked Syvaron or higher can run for a seat in the Mentaricon. It was the only way I could think of to get her back on track. You know how kids are, sometimes they obsess with an irrelevant -- yet somehow related -- topic, and then it can be impossible to get them back on track without satisfying their curiosity."

Weissme nodded again. Rasta did have a good understanding of ten and eleven year old students - his usual age group. Majgen was thirteen at this time, but Weissme had thought she could benefit a bit from the lenience usually reserved for the very youngest in the school.

"It did seem to help; after that point all her questions were related to the rank system. Student ranks, graduated ranks, how a mentarion gained promotions between different ranks. Finally, after almost thirty minutes, she explained the rank system to me using her own words. My hard work had paid off, she had it absolutely right, down to every last detail. For a moment I was relieved, happy that finally this was settled. I even praised her. But do you know what she did then, Antwoine?"

"No, Friedric, what did she do?" inquired Weissme, very interested in finding out what Majgen had done.

"She insulted me, and worse, she insulted the Mentarion Ways." Anger and hurt was evident in Rasta's voice. "That insolent little teen just sat there; turned those brown eyes to me; looked me straight in the eyes, and then she called me stupid and said the Mentarion Ways are ridiculous."

Weissme was shocked, he had never thought Majgen to be inclined to such behaviour. He could sense without a doubt that Rasta was speaking 'full truth'. Rasta was hurt and angry, but he was speaking honestly.

"Honestly, Antwoine, when she did that I lost my temper. I punished her," added Rasta.

"Understandable, Friedric, such direct offences may not be ignored."

"She wouldn't stand still, while I punished her, so I used a tyla."

"Tyla?" asked Weissme, he was getting a bad taste in his mouth. 'Friedric Rasta using a tyla? To punish a thirteen year-old?'

"Yes, I had to tie her down, she kept trying to evade my swings. I haven't whipped anyone for years. Not since that Second Ranked Student beat one of the Tenth Ranked children to the infirmery, you remember that incident, Antwoine?"

"Yes, I remember, Friedric," said Weissme absently. 'He really whipped Student Majgen tyla-style? Yesterday's lesson, a private lesson, security should still have the audio-visual of it on file.'

"Would you like some mocca, Friedric?" asked Weissme changing the topic. He would reserve further questions for after watching security's recordings of that lesson.

"That would be nice, Antwoine." Rasta started getting up.

"Stay in your seat, Friedric, you are my guest. I will make you mocca."

As intended, the notion of being served by an Ottearon made Femaron Rasta's head spin with awe. This gave Weissme the privacy needed to get his own emotions under control. When Rasta left Weissme's quarter about half an hour later, he still had no suspicion of having been manipulated.

Audio-clip from a surveillance recording:

Young female voice (neutral tone): "So from birth every empath has a certain potential, called empathic potential, this potential cannot be altered by training."

Elderly male voice (relieved tone): "Correct."

Young female voice (light happy tone): "I'm glad I got the biology right, Femaron Rasta."

Elderly male voice (neutral tone): "About one in a million humans has empathic abilities. Of those one in eighty is strong enough to fit the category mentarion."

Young female voice (light happy tone): "The non-empathic schools taught me that much."

Young female giggle.

Elderly male voice (undefinable tone): "Good."

Young female voice (neutral tone): "When discovered prior to the age of ten, empaths are taken from their biological families and moved to the custody of the Empaticon. To be raised by empathic foster-parents. At the age of ten the mentarion children are transferred on to the Mentaricon, the rest remains with their foster-parents to attend the school system for weaker empaths."

Elderly male voice (encouraging tone): "Very good, keep going."

Young female voice (lighter neutral one): "The Mentaricon divides the mentarion children between the three mentarion schools, where the mentarion children live until they graduate, become Etarons.

Elderly male voice (encouraging tone): "Good, keep going."

Young female voice (neutral tone): "There are ten mentarion student ranks ranks: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Ten is lowest, one is highest. There are nine graduated mentarion ranks: Etaron, Toaron, Trearon, Firearon, Femaron, Seksaron, Syvaron, Ottearon, Niaron. Etaron is lowest, Niaron is highest."

Elderly male voice (encouraging tone): "Very nice, keep going."

Young female voice (inquisitive tone): "A mentarion cannot rise to a higher rank than they have the empathic potential for?"

Elderly male voice (affirmative tone): "Correct."

Young female voice (insecure tone): "I must have misunderstood something, Femaron Rasta."

Elderly male voice (encouraging tone): "No, Student Majgen, you got everything right. Perfectly right."

(silent pause)

Young female voice (insecure tone): "Every mentarion has the empathic potential needed to reach Toaron rank, but higher than that is individual?"

Elderly male voice (encouraging tone): "Absolutely correct, Student. The higher rank, the fewer mentarions has the potential needed."

Young female voice (insecure tone): "And you told me only Syvarons or above could be elected for seats in the Mentaricon, Femaron Rasta?"

Elderly male voice (reproaching tone): "Yes, that is also correct, but that is another topic."

Young female voice (neutral tone): "It takes a lot of hard work and discipline for a mentarion to reach their maximum potential. Most mentarions take more than ten years to graduate to Etaron. Most Etarons use the personal mentor system, to gain the skill and experience needed to graduate to Toaron. After achieving Toaron rank, the road to Trearon or above, is lots and lots of practice and experience. Although courses exist there are no schools to attend at this point. When a mentarion feels confident that he has gained the skills needed for a promotion. He signs up for ranking exams, if he passes those exams, he will rise a rank."

Elderly male voice (encouraging tone): "Yes, very clear, very concise. Well done, Student Majgen."

Young female voice (insecure tone): "But no matter how hard he studies, or how wise he is, or how much experience he gains. A mentarion can't gain Syvaron rank if he was born without Syvaron potential, Femaron Rasta?"

Elderly male voice (reproaching tone): "We have been through this already, Student, no mentarion can rise above the potential they were born with. And the potential all mentarions share is Toaron. One rank above graduate."

Young female voice (undefinable tone): "But..."

Elderly male voice (reproaching tone): "Too many 'but's, Student Majgen. Too many. I will allow you one last 'but' now, one last question, and then we move on."

Young female voice (insecure tone): "My apologies, Femaron Rasta."

Elderly male voice (encouraging tone): "So let me hear that last but, Student, let it out."

Young female voice (insecure tone): "It was just. (Pause) I. (longer pause). It's stupid, Femaron Rasta. It doesn't make sense, why would only those born with higher potential be able to be elected for office? It's ludicrous, Femaron."

(Undefinable noises mingled with a female shriek).

#

Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID ellynei)

I've been replying to every single feedback with an e-mail attached, but I've also been told my mails often end up in spam boxes. 



Majgen Ch. 015



----=(The Ulballa)=----

Majgen was awakened by the characteristic two tone clinging sound of the apartment's visitor alert. While swinging her legs off the bed she cleared her throat.

"Room-seven-four-two-clock-display," she said, to have the time displayed on the wall. She blinked her vision into focus.

'It's the middle of the night,' she thought, 'and whoever is at the door it's none of my business. I can't even answer the grieving door.' 

Majgen let out a sigh and got on her feet to get dressed. Baglian still kept the apartment locked to her. Not because he felt it was needed, he didn't nowadays, but it had become habit.

'If he lets someone in he will want me to brew mocca, if he doesn't let whoever it is in he might want a smoothing beverage before going back to bed. Even if he doesn't want anything he will have my hide if I don't make myself available to serve him.'

By the time Majgen had pulled her outer cloak on, and started brushing her hair. The two tone clinging sound returned, and began repeating insistently.

"Well sure, that will help," she said to herself. 'Femaron Baglian doesn't like being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night. I wouldn't want to be whoever is out there. Abusing his door alert that way really won't help on his mood.'

After brushing her hair, Majgen briefly ran a wet cloth over her face, and checked her appearance in a mirror. She still looked sleepy.

She glanced at the clock.

'This will have to do for proper Mentarion Appearance. After all, it's the middle of the night, and I'd better stand ready before Femaron Baglian answers the door.'

The alert was still chiming, but Majgen knew her personal teacher would not rush to the door without grooming himself properly - no matter how annoying the sound was. Two minutes before Baglian showed himself, Majgen was in position in the living-room next to the hall leading to the apartment's front door. At that time the alert had been chiming for four minutes.

'A perfect image of mentarion dignity,' thought Majgen, while watching her mentor walk through the living-room. 'Too bad for whoever is out there that he is boiling with rage underneath. Femaron Baglian really doesn't like to be pulled out of bed.'

From where she stood Majgen couldn't see the front door. She was surprised when she heard Baglian open the door almost immediately upon reaching it. She had expected him to interrogate whoever was out there, over the intercom, prior to opening.

"Greetings Ottearon," said Baglian.

'Which Ottearon?' thought Majgen, she didn't recognise the empathic feel of the stranger entering the apartment.

In a very impolite manner the Ottearon ignored Femaron Baglian's greeting and brushed past him into the apartment.

'She is headed for me,' thought Majgen. 'Why?'

The Ottearon only took seconds to find Majgen, she could sense Majgen's presence same as Majgen could sense hers.

"So this is the infamous Majgen Rahan," said the Ottearon, while running her eyes over Majgen. "You don't look like much."

'She thinks she has been misinformed about me,' perceived Majgen. 'Misinformed regarding what?'

Other people had entered the apartment in the Ottearon's trail, brushing past Femaron Baglian. A GED general and his escort of two low ranked officers. All three non-empaths were wearing anti-empathic helmets.

"So that's the one?" asked General Dageb.

"Seems so," replied Ottearon Skent.

General Dageb raised his arm to look at his wrist-watch, he didn't seem pleased by what he saw.

"Find out if we have wasted our time stopping by here. We need to hurry," ordered Dageb.

Ottearon Skent nodded, her eyes never left the short young woman in front of her.

"Strengthen your mind shield, Student," she commanded.

Majgen obeyed instantly.

'She is going to test me by mind shocking me,' realised Majgen a second before the Ottearon commenced a series of mental attacks.

"Her defensive abilities are sufficiently strong for the task, General," informed Ottearon Skent, after all her shocks had failed to break down Majgen's shielding.

"And the other thing?" asked General Dageb.

"How would I know, I only just met her," replied Ottearon Skent. "Femaron Baglian, how is that special perceptivity working out for your student?"

"Constantly progressing, Ottearon," said Baglian.

"How useful is it at this time?" asked Ottearon Skent, not bothering with mentarion etiquette.

"I would consider it quite useful at this time, Ottearon."

"Be more specific, Femaron. I don't feel like playing word games with you."

"Certainly, Ottearon." Baglian turned to Majgen. "Student Majgen, tell me why the Ottearon has come to visit at this late hour."

"Somebody asked her to, Femaron Baglian, the Ottearon believes coming here was pointless and a waste of time."

"You wouldn't need to be an empath to figure that one out," commented General Dageb. "Try to tell us something less obvious."

Majgen moved her eyes to Baglian. He nodded a confirmation to the General's command.

"You were told to come and fetch me, because somebody else believes I can be of assistance." Majgen moved her eyes to the Ottearon's face. "A high-ranking yijejo has been caught alive, but this far it has been impossible to penetrate its mind shield. The GED wishes to avoid torturing it; they fear its mind has been tuned to collapse upon torture."

"Evil grief!" exclaimed Ottearon Skent. "How did you know that, Student?"

"I perceived it from you a few moments ago, Ottearon." Majgen bowed to the high ranked mentarion.

"Is she lying?" asked General Dageb.

"No." Ottearon Skent was certain. Majgen's mind shield could not hide there was no discrepancy between her emotions and her words.

"So she might be useful to us," concluded General Dageb. "Let's wrap it up here, we don't have time for further tests."

"Student, go put one spare set of middle temperature clothing in a bag. You're coming with us," instructed Ottearon Skent. As if adding a side note she continued, "You too, Femaron."

One hour later, Majgen was staring at the visual of their 'connecting flight' on the monitor of the small fast fighter they were in. The closer they got, the bigger the ship they were approaching seemed to get.

'How big is that thing?' wondered Majgen.

Ottearon Skent noticed her reaction. "He is a beauty isn't he?"

Majgen forced her eyes off the viewer, to give her full attention to the Ottearon.

"He is the Ulballa, on his way back after repairs. He took quite a beating in his last battle, but not as bad as the other side," continued Skent, there was a grim smile on her face.

'Bloodlust,' thought Majgen, but she didn't blame the Ottearon, Majgen too liked the idea of scorched yijejo corpses floating around in space.

"Go ahead, Student Majgen, look at him. Later you will only see him from the inside."

Majgen turned her eyes back to the Ulballa, the battle cruiser was still growing on the 1:1 scaled viewer. They were still at a good distance, but she could discern the biggest weapons on the battle-cruiser by now.

'That thing could write it's name on a moon - with four-hundred meter deep craters - easier than a drunk could piss one letter on a wall,' thought Majgen.

Ottearon Skent became absorbed in her own thoughts. She had high hopes that the Ulballa would run into a few yijejo patrols once they reached the War Zone. Her eyes danced with glee at the prospect.

"Welcome to the war, Student," Skent said to the younger woman. "I hope you will enjoy your stay."

'Bloodlust,' thought Majgen again, the feeling she perceived from Ottearon Skent was infectious. It woke long forgotten thoughts. 'Yes, I think I will enjoy my stay.'

The growing image of the Ulballa filled Majgen's eyes. A smile as ugly as a scream, spread on her face.

'Bloodlust indeed,' thought the young woman, 'at long last.'

One emotion, one thought, took place in her.

'Revenge!'

----=(0)=----

The peculiar lighting in the interrogation room made it appear dark. The walls were coloured a neutral green; the absence of direct light made them appear a confusing grey. There was no furniture, no chairs for interrogators to rest on. When interrogating a yijejo a human empath had to be sure to never let his guard down. It was very important that an interrogator remembered to leave the room if in need of rest.

At one wall some panels glowed faintly, indicating where the displays for communication and information were placed. While inactive the displays were indistinguishable from the wall structure, they maintained the same colour as the wall when not in use.

A few very weak lamps were placed high on the walls, but the strongest light-source was a single projector build into a cavity in the ceiling. The projector's lamp was placed so deep in the cavity it would not be possible to see it unless standing almost straight below it looking up. It would have been ill advised to do that; the projector's lamp was so strong that looking directly at it would have been painful. A broad strong beam of light shone from the projector's cavity illuminating only a circular area in the middle of the room.

When nothing was in the beam the strong light had an inconspicuous impression, the floor was a rough deep grey-black colour that could inhale the beam, breathing out only the dimmest reflection of a light circle.

When Majgen entered the interrogation room with Femaron Baglian, the spot under the bright light was occupied. A prisoner of war, a yijejo, was at the centre of the light-beam. Chained in place, securely fastened to the floor in a crouching position.

Naked, helpless, and terrified.

The strong light from the projector hitting the yijejo's pale yellowish white skin, presented an illusion that the alien was glowing.

"Careful, Student Majgen, he might start attacking our minds any..." Baglian would have proceeded to say 'moment' but he stopped talking to focus fully on keeping his mind shield up as the yijejo began his first series of attacks against Baglian's mind.

'Femaron Baglian won't be able to keep off that kind of attacks for hours,' Majgen thought to herself, 'he is only Femaron potential.'

The plan for this interrogation, the first for Majgen to ever attend, was that Baglian and other mentarions would take turns at distracting the yijejo; to make it possible for Majgen to do her thing without too many disturbances.

'Grief that thing is strong,' thought Baglian. 'I had expected it to be weaker -- it has been deprived of sleep for a long time now -- but at least I have its full attention.'

Baglian moved closer to the yijejo, and placed himself right in front of it.

'Fear.' Majgen cherished the feeling she perceived from the enemy's emanations. 'It is afraid of us, it is horrified.'

She smiled.

'I can't wait till I've dragged out every bit of information we need from you, Creature. You have good reason to be afraid. When I have done my part you will learn pain you wouldn't believe existed.'

For the first time in her life, Majgen was jubilant to feel terror emanating from another being.

'Revenge, Creature. Revenge! You will PAY.'

The yijejo noticed the strong emotions of hate coming from Majgen. Instinctively he began attacking her instead of Baglian. Majgen had no trouble withstanding the mind shocks of her drugged foe, but she was not meant to be distracted.

"Keep your emotions under control, Student Majgen," ordered Baglian, and mind-shocked the yijejo to regain its attention.

"Look at me you ugly thing. Yes, I hate you too, Yijejo. I'd like to take a knife and take my first sculpting lessons on your skin." Along with his mind shocks and words Baglian allowed his feelings of hate towards the chained enemy to grow freely; he estimated feelings of hate would increase the likelihood the yijejo would again consider him a more important target than his student.

Baglian's strategy worked. The yijejo turned its full attention away from Majgen and back to the Femaron, even though the Femaron's attacks were too weak to trouble it.

Majgen took some deep breaths and tried to get her hate under control. After some moments she managed to stop fantasising about torturing the prisoner, and moved to her planned position behind the yijejo.

'Focus on your task,' she reminded herself over and over, 'right now you have a job to do.'

She closed her eyes, and prepared herself for the surge of memories and emotions, which usually came to her once she opened herself empathically. Then she opened her senses fully.

Nothing happened.

'All I can feel is his fear.' For a second Majgen was astonished. 'Maybe yijejos don't emanate the same way humans do.'

She closed her senses and eyes again.

'No, that's not it. He is emanating, I just can't feel it. It's me. Not him.'

After some more long breaths, Majgen repeated her preparation and sense opening procedure.

'Nothing. Just the fear. Grief!' Majgen clenched her fists in frustration.

'I have to figure this out! My special perceptivity has failed me before, figure it out. Don't panic, don't give up. Just give yourself a little time to figure this out, Student,' she advised herself.

After fighting the yijejo intensely for a couple of minutes, Baglian took a moment to glance at, and sense, his student.

'She is inactive, she isn't doing anything.' The realisation was a surprise to Baglian. "Why aren't you sensing, Student Majgen?" he commanded to know.

"I cannot sense from him, my hatred blinds me, Femaron."

It was true. Majgen was filled with hatred and rage towards her enemy. One of the kind that had killed her parents and friends when she was so young.

"You are a mentarion, Student. Forget yourself and do your job!"

Baglian was perspiring from mental effort. He was only a Femaron. For him fighting off the mental attacks of a yijejo, even a severely drugged and sleep-deprived one, was a tremendous effort. And this particular prisoner was far stronger than the average yijejo.

Majgen tried to compose herself, tried to sense the way only she could. It was obvious to both her and Baglian she was making no progress.

"Express your block, Student."

Baglian hoped she would be swift, his own fight was draining his mental stamina quickly. If their first interrogation attempt gave absolutely no results, for reasons of him running out of energy before Majgen got control of herself, then he would be replaced by an Ottearon at the second and all later attempts.

'Get control of yourself fast, Student. I want to remain in charge of the first team to ever retrieve information from a Winin's mind,' thought Baglian.

Winin, a yijejoan rank. Two hundred years into the war no human really understood the political build of the yijejo nations. However, they knew that Winin was a very high rank. This prisoner was a Winin. That was the reason he was considered exceptionally important. He was the highest ranked yijejo, ever to have been caught alive.

Majgen only needed a few moments to put her feelings into words. "It does not deserve to be seen without hatred."

Baglian was quick to find a solution to that emotional blockade. "I will hate him for both of us, Student. Trust me to hate for both of us and forget yourself."

Majgen looked at Baglian, and studied his emanations. 'Yes. Femaron Baglian can hate for both of us.' She closed her eyes, shut down her senses, and focused on her memory of Baglian hating the caught yijejo.

'Femaron Baglian will hate for me, I am not essential.'

Majgen meditated on that meaning until she no longer felt her own hate.

'I am not essential.'

She began to open her senses.

'HE KILLED MY PARENTS!'

The primary emotion, her true block, finally revealed itself; the true reason for her blinding hate. Majgen opened her eyes and looked at the helpless yijejo. She studied his alien features.

'No, this is not the one who killed my parents. The shape of the head is wrong. And its lower reaching limbs are too long compared to the uppermost ones.' Majgen felt the emotion shy away at logic as she compared the yijejo in front of her to the one she had seen come around a corner when she was five.

'This is still an enemy, but he is not my parents' murderer, he is not even a soldier.' She looked at Baglian again. 'This one Femaron Baglian can hate for me, this one is unlikely to have any connection to my parents' death. I am not essential.'

Once again she closed her eyes and her senses. Taking a deep breath, she found no need to meditate further. She opened her senses. This time she felt the blur of information in the yijejo's emanations.

'Now I can feel you, whoever you are. I will not judge, it is not my part.' That was Majgen Rahan's thought, when for the first time she let a yijejo's emanations reach her heart.

'I/we/he am/are/is young. Male. I am a young man, and I am. What am I doing?' Majgen was pulled further into the yijejo's memory.

(o)

'Why are the overviews of musical shows always so hard to browse through? It is ridiculous,' he thought to himself, while tapping away at the monitor in front of him, 'Should it really be necessary to take an education as information-specialist to buy a seat for a live show?'

"Aejoa!"

He turned his head at the sound of his name being yelled. And saw his best friend running towards him.

"Eiiae!" Aejoa yelled back. 'Sweet Eiiae, I've missed him.'

Feelings of friendship and warmth bubbled inside Aejoa upon seeing his approaching friend. Eiiae didn't slow down until a few steps From Aejoa, and even then he only slowed down to the degree needed for Aejoa not to fall over when they collided.

"My friend! I've missed you," said Aejoa, hugging Eiiae tight.

"Let me get some limbs free so I can hug you back, you silly fool," complained Eiiae, feeling as happy as Aejoa.

"Noo, no limbs for you, this is my hug!" claimed Aejoa, holding his friend even tighter. Preventing the slightly smaller yijejo from getting any of his reaching limbs free.

Each of them could feel the happy humour in the other.

Eiiae struggled in Aejoa's grip till he managed to sneak two of his upper reaching limbs out between the limbs Aejoa kept him intwined in. With those two he hugged his friend back.

"I have missed you too, Aejoa."

Their minds reached towards each other, to share their feelings fully.

(o)

'Love, friendship.' Majgen tried to shake the memory off. 'This was years back, this is not what I seek.' She blocked out the stream this memory was in. 'Information, it's there somewhere. Keep searching, Majgen,' she ordered herself. 

(o)

"Math is boring," stated Aejoa, and threw his homework pad across the room.

"It doesn't have to be," said Eiiae. "I think it's fun, just give it a chance."

(o)

'Eiiae again,' thought Majgen. 'They are even younger in this memory. Not useful information.'

She moved on.

(o)

"Have you heard all I said?" The old and dignified yijejo asked, his eyes locked on Aejoa's.

"Yes!"

"It is the full truth you speak to me!" The elderly yijejo stated with ceremonious dignity.

"Have you listened to every word?" Was his next question.

"Yes!" Aejoa looked up into the eyes of the speaker from his kneeling position.

"It is the full truth you speak to me!" The elder yijejo waited a short moment before asking the last question. "And do you so swear, to adhere to all this?"

"Yes!"

"It is the full truth you speak to me!"




Majgen Ch. 015



Pride swam through Aejoa, at that final recognition, the completion.

"Arise and show yourself!" yelled the elderly man.

Aejoa got on his feet and faced the crowd below. Faces everywhere, thousands of faces.

"Behold! Look at him! Before you stands now a Winin!"

The old man began a cheer, and the crowd joined in. Thousands of voices. A roar of glory.

'Winin of Naonun. That is who I am. That is me!'

With pride and joy Aejoa spread his reaching limbs to the sides and made them ripple with waves of joy.

(o)

"Student Majgen, don't go too deep into its memories, remember to keep your mind shield up."

"I won't, Femaron Baglian, and I will," Majgen reassured her mentor.

(o)

"There is much work to be done in the Oon sectors of the town, I am aware of that. However..." Aejoa was interrupted by sensing emotional distress. He turned his head, to observe the source of that distress.

It was one of his servants.

"What is the matter, Inee?" asked Aejoa.

"I have horrible news, Winin," said First Servant Inee, distressed empathy and compassion was streaming from him.

"Which news?" Aejoa felt a chill run through him as he realised he himself was the one his servant was worried for.

"There has been an accident, Winin. A horrible unpredictable accident. The passenger cruiser your parents were on while travelling home from Aaee. There was a malfunction in one of the power-cores."

The chill became a cold, that numbed Aejoa inside out.

"One of the power-cores?"

"Yes, Winin. The light from the explosion showed it was a power-core. There were no survivors, Winin. I checked the passenger list ten times. All your parents were aboard."

"All?" asked Aejoa. He knew all meant all, but he had to check; he had to hear the full verdict spoken, before he could grieve.

"Your mother and all seven of your fathers, Winin. They are all dead."

Aejoa blinked, he still couldn't grieve. It was too sudden. Too unreal.

"Do my siblings know, Inee?" he asked, his voice sounded empty, he was still unable to feel anything.

'All?' he thought to himself. 'All of them? At once?'

"I do not know, Winin," replied the servant, he could grieve. Grieve for the Winin's immense loss.

"I must contact them," stated Aejoa, still unable to put any force into his voice. "Excuse me, My Guests, I have matters to attend to."

Aejoa ignored his guests' attempts at condolences and left the room.

'All of them?' he thought again, while walking to a more private chamber in his home to call his siblings.

(o)

'He is an orphan,' thought Majgen. 'Just like me.'

The shivering, whining, terrified prisoner in front of her appeared so different from the person in his own memories.

'NO,' Majgen told herself, 'nothing like me. His parents died in an accident. Mine were murdered -- by HIS kind.'

Her anger and hate flared again, but it refused to flame into a roaring fire of emotion, like it had earlier.

'It doesn't matter what I feel anyway,' Majgen comforted herself. 'All that matters is that I can perceive from him. All that matters is that I get the information we need.'

She continued her attempts at analysing his emanations.

'Why can't he just think about something that has importance for the war, so we can get this done with? I want this done, I want this past. But all I get is private memories, outdated unimportant memories.'

(o)

"Look at those little limbs, he is so tiny," said one of Aejoa's brothers, looking at the tiny infant in Aejoa's arms. Awaiting his turn to hold the baby with envious anticipation.

"He is so beautiful, just like our sister," Aejoa's brother ranted on, "are you ready to hand him over yet? I want to hold him too."

"No," whispered Aejoa, staring into the eyes of his first nephew. 'I'm an uncle,' he thought to himself with wonder. 'My little sister got this beautiful baby, and now I'm an uncle.'

Love and wonder filled Aejoa. 'What a marvellous little thing, imagine something so small can be so incredible.'

(o)

Majgen blocked the memory of the innocent yijejo infant, the love Aejoa felt in that memory was burning her heart.

'He is not human, he is NOT human. Not. Not. Not! That baby is going to grow up to be a monster. Just like he is a monster. A murderer! They are all murderers.' Majgen didn't notice she was thinking of the prisoner as 'he' instead of 'it', and had been for quite a while. 'I have to keep trying.'

Dreading what memory she would face next, Majgen moved on.

(o)

"Aejoa, my friend..."

(o)

She moved on.

(o)

"Brother, why do..."

(o)

Moved on.

(o)

"Wanna play with us? You can be on team four..."

(o)

'Childhood memory. Next.'

(o)

Aejoa.

Friend, uncle, brother, son and Winin. Also a person, sometimes simply a person. Enjoying a moment of quiet solitude.

Lonely. Happy. Joyful. In pain. Filled with pride. In mourning.

Majgen tried to avoid it, his life, his personality. But no matter how many streams she blocked, there were always more. And she couldn't allow herself to block them all, she had to find information about the war.

It was her duty.

Baglian didn't bother her often, he trusted her to alert him if issues should arise. In quiet moments he sensed she was working her way through the yijejo's emanations. After a bit less than an hour, Femaron Baglian's mental stamina was drained. He had only lasted that long because the yijejo often paused its attacks on him.

Ottearon Skent took Baglian's place as a decoy. Skent was quiet for a long while even though it was easier for her to withstand the yijejo's attacks than it had been for the Femaron. Skent would have liked to spend more energy attacking the alien's mind, but she knew it would be pointless. So she conserved her mental stamina, to last longer.

The Winin, Aejoa, took a break from attacking the empath in front of him.

'I'm so tired. I want to sleep. I would give anything to sleep,' thought Aejoa.

The humans were keeping him awake with drugs. The chemicals were continuously injected through a computer controlled device, the tip of which was inserted into his back. An empath could not perform a mind-scan on a sleeping individual. The chaotic patterns of a sleeping mind was impossible to navigate. Dreams could be viewed, but dreams were unlikely to supply the interrogators with useful information. Aejoa had been kept awake by drugs for nearly sixteen human days. The sleep deprivation was meant to weaken him.

When performing torture, humans would often let a sleep deprived prisoner fall asleep just to wake him instantly. Aejoa was not exposed to this treatment, the humans still suspected his mind might be tuned to dissolve upon torture. High ranking yijejos participating in the war usually had such a mechanism in their mind, in case of capture.

"Let me sleep," whispered Aejoa.

Neither of the two human empaths understood him; he had spoken in his own language. Aejoa didn't know humana - the language spoken by humans. Even if he had known it, he wouldn't have been able to speak it. Most words in the language humana could not be pronounced by a yijejo.

'I need sleep.' Aejoa started crying yet again. Unlike humans yijejos had no tears, but the crying of a yijejo had just as easily recognisable features.

"Are you having a good time?" Ottearon Skent asked the yijejo, and laughed. Hatred towards the enemy was quite acceptable amongst human interrogators.

Skent had been involved in the war effort for twelve years; she had joined the war upon realising she would never fully recover from what she had seen at Hawlun, nor the memories she had perceived from Hawlun-orphans. In the war Skent could embrace her hate. Only in her hatred did the memories of Hawlun give her strength, at any other time they haunted her, tore at her.

Laughter was still dancing in Skent's eyes when she turned them to Student Majgen. Though her smile vanished when she noticed the young woman's emanations.

'Why can't I feel her hatred?' thought Skent, and asked, "Are you going soft on me, Student?"

The Student took a second to comprehend the Ottearon's words. Focused on the prisoner's emanations, Majgen had almost forgotten Skent was present. The moment she understood what Skent implied rage rose inside her.

'How dare she!' Majgen clenched her teeth round the insults she longed to throw at the Ottearon.

"No, Ottearon Skent," she said.

"You felt soft, Student," said Skent, ignoring Majgen's anger, "you felt like a soft little yijejo-lover."

'HOW DARE SHE!' Majgen's face contorted as she began to lose control of her anger.

Majgen raised her eyes to Skent's.

"You may think, you have reason to hate yijejos because you were at Hawlun after the massacre, Ottearon. You may even feel sorry for yourself, because you absorbed a few Hawlun memories along the way. BUT IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP RIGHT NOW, OTTEARON RANK COLOURS ALONE WON'T SAVE YOU FROM MY WRATH!" Majgen screamed the last sentence at the top of her lungs.

Skent was stunned. Majgen was heaving for air she didn't really need, her fists were clenched. Her emanations were sufficient evidence her words had been truthful.

"Careful, Student," warned Skent after some moments silence, as Majgen seemed to have cooled a bit. "This interrogation won't last forever, you shouldn't pile yourself too many troubles for the time after."

"I know, Ottearon," said Majgen, thinking of her future she forced a second sentence out too, "My apologies, Ottearon Skent."

"Care to explain your behaviour, Student?" Skent assumed to know the answer, being called a yijejo-lover could bring most humans to the point of rage.

"I'm from Hawlun, Ottearon, I was there."

"I didn't know, Student." Skent truly regretted her previous accusations. "My apologies, Student Majgen Rahan. My sincere apologies." Skent bowed to the young mentarion, as she would if apologising to an equal in rank. "You will not be punished for your angry words, Student. I will see to that. After all, they were justified, no Hawlun-orphan would ever go soft on a yijejo."

"True, Ottearon," said Majgen, at that exact moment believing her own words.

The two mentarions went silent, and once again the only noise in the room was the yijejo's alien whining.

Humans had never been able to develop true anti-empathic drugs for yijejos - as they had for their own empaths. If the prisoner could have been drugged non-empathic it would have been easy to forcibly scan his mind. The drugs, however, did reduce his empathic strength immensely. Without them Ottearon Skent and Student Majgen would not have been able to withstand his attacks.

"Release me!" screamed Aejoa, and began a new series of attacks on Ottearon Skent.

(o)

"Eat it!"

"No," screamed Aejoa. "I won't eat it, let go off me."

"Eat it!" commanded The older boy.

"NO!"

"Eat it!" The older yijejo boy laughed while trying to cram the disgusting thing into Aejoa's mouth.

(o)

'Late childhood. Useless,' thought Majgen, and blocked the memory stream from her mind. Focusing hard to not compare that memory to so many similar ones of her own.

Skent lasted almost an hour, before she had to be replaced too, and Syvaron Kartiss took her spot. When he was drained of empathic stamina Majgen left the room with him, it was dinnertime for her.

"Anything useful yet, Student Majgen?" asked Baglian, as Majgen and the drained Syvaron Kartiss entered the living-room the mentarion interrogators shared on the Ulballa.

"No, Femaron Baglian. Just pointless memories so far."

"Show me some of those memories, Tenth Ranked Student," demanded Syvaron Prel.

Prel was very sceptical regarding the student's abilities. Him and four other high ranked mentarions had been working hard on breaking through the yijejo's mind shield prior to its transfer to the Ulballa. They had gained no information at all.

Majgen walked to Syvaron Prel and lowered her mind shield partially, to allow for directed mind sharing.

'I guess Aejoa's promotion to Winin would be the most suitable choice,' thought Majgen, and fed that memory to Syvaron Prel.

"Amazing," said Prel. "You really absorbed that memory from emanations, Student?"

"Yes, Syvaron Prel. I did."

Prel shared the the prisoner's memory of becoming a Winin with the other mentarions. Baglian was the only of them who had first hand experience with Majgen's abilities, the rest were baffled to the point of awe.

"How do you do it, Student?" asked one of them, once the shock of a reality - that was considered scientifically impossible - had abated.

"I do not know, how I do it, Syvaron. I simply do it." Majgen bowed. "The question I ask myself is; how do others not do it? I am sorry I cannot answer your question more accurately, Syvaron."

She did not know the talker's name, so she could not add that to his title.

"Whichever way it is done," added Baglian, "it cannot be controlled in the same way mind scans are, Syvaron. I have made progress in deciphering how to direct what information is gained, and trained my student in that, but the technique is not fully developed yet. Hence it may take a while to gain useful information from the prisoner, Syvaron Joron."

"How long will it take for her to find out if the prisoner is tuned against torture or not, Femaron Baglian?" asked Prel.

"That is practically impossible to estimate, Syvaron. At this point where her abilities are not under structured control it could happen nearly immediately or it could take days, Syvaron Prel," replied Baglian.

"We got at least a week more to work at it before the GED will start demanding torture, whether we have established if the prisoner is tuned or not," commented another.

Non-empathic GED Ulballa-staff served dinner for the mentarions, and left as soon as the table was set.

As usual when new members joined a crew, the conversation soon turned to collegial anecdotes.

"... after two rounds of the usual treatment this one was still fighting, and we still couldn't breach its mind shield. So I placed a wall size monitor in front of it and displayed a visual of the room on it, you know, like a mirror. And I gained permission to bring meat-scissors to the interrogation-room..."

Majgen did not need to listen to the words and envision - to follow the tale. She saw the memory as clearly as the speaker did. She cocked her head a little to the side, while listening with everything but her ears. An absent smile of hate grew slowly on her face. By the time the yijejo in the speaker's tale yielded in his memory, Majgen's face was distorted in a wolfish grin. Several of the other interrogators carried vindictive grins by the time the story was completed in words.

"Thank you for this very informative story, Syvaron," said Baglian, he gave no indications of having enjoyed the story, nor of being displeased with it. He had only spoken of the story to be able to speak without talking out of turn. Baglian turned to Majgen.

"Student Majgen," he said, and waited two seconds for her to return focus to the present. He was accustomed to giving her that extra time, when she was lost in looking at memories through emanations.

"You are excused from the table, Student. Fill a plate with food and go to your room with it." Baglian was also used to the way she blinked once while comprehending an order - when he gave her one right after pulling her out of watching memories from emanations.

Plate in hand she got to her feet and efficiently began gathering a meal from the selection on the table.

"Sit down, Student Majgen," counter-ordered Ottearon Skent.

Majgen hesitated a very brief moment, then she obeyed Skent. When given opposing orders - the order from the higher ranked mentarion was the one the Mentarion Ways required her to follow.

"You were enjoying the conversation, weren't you, Student?" asked Skent, conversationally.

"Yes, Ottearon Skent," said Majgen, her voice did not reflect her sentiments, but the hate in her emanations did. Hatred against yijejos, the talk heard and memories seen had spiced hers in an exhilarating manner.

"I've got some stories I think you would enjoy too, Student."

"I am sure you have stories my student would enjoy, Ottearon Skent. However we are not on the Ulballa for personal pleasure," said Baglian. "I had good reason to order my student to leave the table. I will have to respectfully ask you, Ottearon, to refrain from telling my student any stories - which will remind her of her hatred towards the enemy, Ottearon Skent."

"Really, Femaron, you will have to do that?" asked Skent.

"Yes, Ottearon, I will."

"You may be excused from the table, Femaron. Go to your room."

"Ottearon..." Baglian held back the remainder of his protest as Skent raised a hand to wave him off. Obeying the higher ranked mentarion, he rose and left the room.

A varied mix of emotions played in Tenth Ranked Student Majgen as her mentor left.

'She should have listened to him,' thought Majgen, 'not just assumed Baglian was sending me away to make himself look more important.'

In spite of not always agreeing with his view on the world, Majgen respected her teacher and did not like to see him treated like an insignificant subordinate.

"Now that the kids have left, let's have a nice talk between adults," said Skent.

No one snickered at Skent's disrespectful joke, but Majgen perceived most present had enjoyed it. That made her angry.

'Who do they think they are? Dignified? More worthy because of their higher potential? Hah.' Sitting rigid in her seat, Majgen stared straight ahead. 'Don't say a thing girl, don't say a word. The higher rank, the easier to offend, the easier to enrage them. Even Femaron Baglian left without protesting further, and he is not a coward.'

She was afraid, afraid she would momentarily loose her temper and speak too frankly, and thus gain herself a thorough beating. Also in Majgen, was a yearn to hear more stories, to dwell deeper in her hatred. It felt so good to hate, it eased her pain to think of revenge.

Ottearon Skent began narrating one of her stories of torturing a yijejo prisoner. Sooner than her first sentence was completed, Majgen gained an image from Skent: A yijejo prisoner, mind shield still up, emanating intense terror. With that image also Skent's emotional response to that terror, Skent had enjoyed it, had let it wash over her like a pleasant warm shower.

'I want that kind of revenge too!' thought Majgen, envy joined her mix of emotions, 'I want that satisfaction too!' She shook her head slightly. 'This is bad, I won't be able to perceive from the prisoner when I feel this way. I know it. Femaron Baglian knew it too; that's why he tried to send me out. Ottearon Skent doesn't know, she wouldn't let Femaron Baglian inform her.'

Encouraged by the growing hatred and anger in Majgen's emanations Skent elaborated her story in deeper detail than she usually would. Majgen did not need such details in words though; Skent's narrating brought the memories to the surface of her emanations.

'I have to stop this,' thought Majgen, 'it will already now be very hard to forget my hatred when we continue the interrogation.'

"Ottearon Skent, stop!" exclaimed Majgen, interrupting Skent in the middle of a sentence.

"What's wrong, Student? Don't you have the stomach for it after all?" asked Skent.

"I need to go to my quarters, Ottearon. Please give me permission to leave, Ottearon Skent."

"Why?"

Majgen tried to answer, but her own rambling emotions woke rambling thoughts in her.

"Please, Ottearon, let me go. I need to..." 'I want to hear more!' "I mean, I have to..." 'Shut up, you don't want to insult an Ottearon.' "Ottearon, the interrogation..." 'She would torture Aejoa, that way too. Aejoa is a person, not a monster.' "I really need to go to my room, Ottearon." 'The prisoner is a yijejo, he deserves to be tortured!'




Majgen Ch. 015



Majgen got to her feet, and stood there for a few seconds gathering a sensible sentence.

"I request your permission to go to my quarters, Ottearon. Please let me go. Femaron Baglian can explain why it is needed, Ottearon Skent."

"All right then. You may leave, Student."

"Thank you, Ottearon Skent," said Majgen, with a bow. She was relieved and disappointed at the same time, as she started towards the door.

"Student!" Skent called out, causing Majgen to stop and turn again. "Go by your teacher's quarters on the way and send him back here. I want an explanation."

"As you command, so I will do, Ottearon Skent." Majgen bowed yet again, and left the room.

For more than two hours, Majgen sat in her room waiting for the long dinner break to end, while trying to push away her hatred towards yijejos. By the time the door to her room opened, to reveal Syvaron Prel outside, she still had made no progress towards drowning the hate.

"Student Majgen," said Syvaron Prel, with a bow, baffling Majgen with the unexpected courtesy meant for equals.

"Syvaron Prel." Majgen got on her feet and returned the bow.

"Are you ready to continue, Student?"

"As ready as mere waiting can make me, Syvaron Prel."

Prel nodded in response as Majgen approached him. The two mentarions walked together to the interrogation chamber and the captive Winin. It was Syvaron Prel's turn to function as decoy for Majgen. While they walked, Majgen was preparing herself to meditate on Prel's ability to hate for both of them, but as they entered the interrogation chamber and she saw the shivering terrified enemy, there was no need for such meditation.

'His name is Aejoa,' remembered Majgen, and let his emanations wash over her.

(o)

"That was no way for you to use the power within you, Aejoa." The Ejue's voice was filled with reproach.

"He has always been mean to me, Ejue Uon, I only did to him what he deserved," Aejoa objected.

"What punishment others do or do not deserve is not for you to decide, you are but a mere child yourself. To take control of another's mind and make them do things they do not want to do is very wrong, Aejoa. Very wrong."

"He is a bad person, he is mean."

"And what are you, Aejoa?"

"I am innocent, it was self-defence, Ejue, he was going to hurt me."

"No, what you did was not self-defence, it was revenge."

"But he was going to hurt me again."

"If you had pacified him and left, that would have been self-defence, Aejoa," explained Ejue Uon. "But that was not what you did."

(o)

'Mid-late childhood,' thought Majgen, and moved on.

For every one of Aejoa's memories Majgen gained it became harder for her to think of him as a monstrous enemy. When finally interrogation was halted for the day and Majgen retired to her room, she tried to reawaken her hatred. The other interrogators would not again raise questions about her hatred; Baglian had explained to them that his student had to overcome, and ignore, her hatred to sense with her special perceptivity. But Majgen herself felt she needed the hatred, felt a need for the comfort of bloodlust.

'It is still there, right under the surface,' she tried to convince herself, while going to bed. 'The only reason I can't feel it is because I forced it away. All I need to do is think about the stories Ottearon Skent and the others told at dinner, then it will come back to me.'

Lying in bed, Majgen thought about those stories, and the memories that had come with them. It didn't wake her old hatred, as she had hoped, instead an empty sorrowful feeling filled her and Majgen cried herself to sleep.

During the first round of the second day's interrogation, the yijejo's attacks drained the mental stamina of all the high ranking mentarion interrogators. By her own request Majgen was allowed to continue the interrogation alone. The others would need to rest a full day, before being mentally recharged and able to aid her again.

This day, there was no hate left in Majgen towards the yijejo in front of her; she had gained too many of his memories to be able to think of him as evil. She had come to realise she liked Aejoa - as a person.

Majgen's eyes were open. Watching the sleep-deprived, drugged prisoner, she no longer had trouble recognising the person she knew from his memories.

'Why did you come to the war, Aejoa?' she wondered. 'You are not a killer.'

Interrogating the yijejo prisoner had become a chilling duty; she now hoped she would not be ordered to attend when the time for his torture came. She knew that time was bound come eventually. It would come if the interrogation should prove that his mind was not tuned to dissolve upon torture. Or it would come when she had gained all useful information he carried - and asserted he had no more.

'You are doomed to be tortured and killed, Aejoa.' This fact hurt Majgen deep inside, in spite of this she still did her best to adhere to her duty as an interrogator.

Most yijejos captured by humans were tortured before execution. This practice had become habit after the Hawlun-massacre. In the case of high ranking yijejos the audio-, visual-, and sometimes medical-recordings too - were transmitted to the enemy. The humans called it 'psychological warfare'. Aejoa knew about this, same as Majgen.

So far Aejoa had only been introduced to two forms of torture by his captors. One was the combination of mind affecting drugs and sleep deprivation, the other was a device nicknamed 'Crown of Blinding Light', or for short, simply 'crown'. It was a device which interrogators and torturers placed on the head of a victim. The design existed in a multitude of variations, the common features for all versions was that they were equipped with tiny projectors, placed and pointed to shine directly into a victim's eyes.

Since shortly after his capture, Aejoa had been wearing such a crown. If he opened his eyes, the sharp light from the small projectors caused his eyes instant and sharp pain. While his eyes were closed, the light caused him no physical discomfort. Unlike human eye-lids, the yijejo eye-closeners allowed no light to pass.

With no other mentarion present to distract him, the prisoner was attacking Majgen. Aejoa's attacks could not penetrate her shielding, but the effort of warding them of distracted her from sensing his emanations.

'He is tired of fighting,' perceived Majgen, 'he wants rest more than anything.'

To keep his eyes closed while being so tired, yet unable to sleep increased his suffering. The day before he hadn't attempted to open his eyes while Majgen was present. This day, however, he was more worn, more ripe as human interrogators called it. On a regular basis he inadvertently opened his eyes, only to be blinded by the intense light from the crown. The single human day's time had not meant much in itself. Rather the difference had been caused by an efficient adjustment of the drugs administered.

A single human day, did not fill much in the day cycle of a yijejo. The standard human day was divided into seventeen hours waking time and seven hours sleep. The yijejo standard day could be counted in about eight human days. Four for waking time and four for sleeping time.

Every time Aejoa opened his eyes, the pain he felt went straight to Majgen's heart.

'It is time to change the situation a little,' decided Majgen.

"I need to talk to a supervisor," she said to whoever was monitoring the audio-visual of the interrogation room. Nothing happened. Majgen managed to remember the voice-command to open communication channels.

"Surveillance acknowledge," she said, hoping the room was set to accept her voice for commands. A reply came within seconds.

"Surveillance is listening." It was a neutral female voice, seemingly not computer-generated.

"I need to talk to a supervisor," repeated Majgen.

"Hold," said the female voice, and disappeared. Majgen had to wait more than a minute, for further communication.

"Your-supervisor-is-ready-to-hear-your-request." This voice was fully computer generated; each word spoken separately, tonelessly and without the rhythm of natural speech. Not unusual when interrogating yijejos, unemotional relay of information was less likely to generate emotional responses in the listener. Making it harder for the yijejo to guess what was being said.

For this interrogation audible communication in itself was not a problem, since this prisoner did not understand humana.

"I wish to have a message from me translated to the prisoner," said Majgen. 

"Which-mesage." Since the mechanical voice spoke each word without any intonation: only context revealed it as a question.

"Stop attacking me." Majgen made sure to pause at each full meaning, if the supervisor complied to her request - he might very well use a translating device. Those required full stop after each sentence containing a full meaning to translate properly.

"I am not trying to penetrate your mind shield," she continued, paused again and finished, "If you stop attacking me, I will remove the extra light shining in your eyes."

"Hold," was the computer generated reply.

For almost half an hour there were no other sounds than the shaky whining of the prisoner. His attacks against Majgen were silent and invisible, her defences too. 

Suddenly the mechanical voice started speaking yijejoan. Majgen assumed it was the translated version of her message. It took her a while to confirm her assumption with the aid of the prisoner's emanations. The mental fight kept her sensitivity far below her normal.

'He understood the meaning of the message, but he doesn't believe it,' realised Majgen.

"Supervisor, can you hear me?" Majgen spoke with a neutral tone, trying to mask her irritation.

"Yes."

"Requesting permission to have the message translated again in a different manner," she said.

"Clarify-request."

"Requesting simultaneous-translator activated for this room."

"Why."

"The prisoner did not believe the first translation." Majgen hoped the supervisor would understand without further explanations, it was hard for her to keep the irritation and frustration out of her tone while focusing on the mental battle. The mechanical voice was quiet for a few minutes.

"Simultaneous-translator-activates-in-three-seconds."

Majgen counted silently, to be sure she did not start speaking before the translator was active.

"Stop attacking me." Majgen paused and waited for translation. The mechanical voice repeated her sentence in yijejoan.

"I am not trying to penetrate your mind shield." Again she waited for translation to complete before speaking again. The yijejo was still attacking her mind.

"If you stop attacking me, I will remove the extra light shining in your eyes," she finished.

The yijejo ceased his attacks a little sooner than the translation of that sentence was completed. Majgen stepped forward and reached for the tiny projectors aimed at Aejoa's eyes. She turned them off and stepped back again. The prisoner did not immediately open his eyes.

'He needs further confirmation that the painful light is gone.'

Slowly, Majgen lowered her mind shield, to allow him to sense her clearly. At that moment she didn't really care if he would use the chance to hurt her with a mental blow.

Aejoa noticed how Majgen lowered her mind shield. She had his full attention.

'What is it up to?' he thought, he had a feeling this was the beginning of another form of torture, but he couldn't think straight. Drugs, fear and sleep deprivation took a large toll on his ability to think coherently.

'I mustn't let my guard down. I must fight.' He tried to force himself to attack, but hesitated. 'It can't be trusted. Attack it. Fight.' Aejoa whined to himself, dignity was something he had stopped worrying about a good while back. 'I can't stand keeping my eyes closed! I need sleep. I want to sleep, I want rest. If I attack it, the others will hurt me.'

Instead of attacking the smaller creature, Aejoa reached out with his empathic senses. Tentatively he scanned the top of the lone human's mind, to confirm the promise had been kept.

'Only the top, only the top, don't make it angry.' A part of him felt he should use the opportunity to see the creature's full plan, but a much bigger part of him wanted to be allowed to open his eyes without blinding pain.

'It's telling the truth,' Aejoa confirmed to himself, and withdrew from the interrogator's mind. 'Why is it sad? It doesn't have anything to be sad for.' The question fluttered away from his conscious mind faster than it could have been spoken.

Majgen was on the verge of tears.

'I have become a nameless evil,' she thought, and raised her mind shield again. 'I am here, I am part of the crew. This is me doing this.' She did not allow her emotions to show on her face.

When Majgen had first seen the prisoner she had forced her hate into hiding. At first her feelings of tolerance towards the prisoner had not been genuine. They had merely been fake products of thought techniques, a means that made her able to perceive memories from him.

'I'd wish I could go back to hating him, I'd wish I didn't know he is a good person.' Her world was crumbling.

Aejoa opened his eyes, and saw the dark floor of the interrogation chamber, for the first time.

Independent of each other they, Majgen and Aejoa, both had the same thought at the same time.

' 'Why did Aejoa come to the war-zone?' '

Majgen did not know the answer, but Aejoa did, and his question to himself made him remember.

'Rumours, it was the rumours. The human prisoners,' remembered Aejoa. 'I am going to die because of rumours.'

Aejoa's wording of his own thoughts would not have made much sense if spoken, but the memories that rose to the top of his emanations, upon these thoughts - were clear.

(o)

"Have you heard any rumours of illegal torture of human prisoners of war, Winin?"

"No, I can't say I have, Ojewa," said Aejoa, and respectfully bowed his head to the revered Ojewa.

"There are such rumours, Winin, they have spread so far that some are beginning to consider them fact. The time has come to put a stop to those rumours."

"I trust your wisdom, Ojewa." Aejoa knew very little of humans, and of the war. He did, however, know when torture of humans was legal, and when not.

"I do not believe the rumours are true, Winin, I want you to know that. But if people believe that the rumours are true, then they also believe that we, the Eieie, are not adhering to our duties. We cannot allow such misconceptions to prevail, Winin," elaborated the Ojewa.

"You honour me by sharing your wisdom with me, Ojewa," replied Aejoa.

"I will send you to the War Zone, Winin. There you will lead an official investigation of how human prisoners are being treated, and how they have been treated. You need not worry for your safety; you, and the other civilians coming with you, will be kept at safe distance from combat at all times. I value you, Winin, I would not put you at risk."

(o)

'He is a civilian,' realised Majgen, not just from the Ojewa's words to Aejoa. 'Aejoa is a civilian, he knows almost nothing about the war. He has no information which could be useful in the war effort. He is useless to the GED, and his mind is not tuned against torture.' A lump grew in her throat.

'But that won't stop them from torturing him. Not at all. The yijejos will truly care if one of their Winin's get tortured. The GED will torture Aejoa thoroughly, slowly, and continuously. Those like Skent will do it for personal satisfaction, but officially it will be done to demoralise the enemy.'

Majgen turned round to leave the interrogation room, she had trouble keeping her face locked in a mentarion mask of dignity.

'It's not right, he doesn't deserve it!'

She walked to the door and held her hand to it.

'There is nothing I can do about it, my work is done, now I must report. Adhere to my duty and live with it.'

The door opened.

'I couldn't save him even if I wanted to.'

She walked through the door.

'I want to save him.' Majgen knew she wanted to. 'But I can't, it is impossible, and even attempting will doom me to the same fate as him. Torture and death. Treason is the only crime punishable by torture, and I know it.'

Majgen entered the communication side room, assigned to the interrogation of Aejoa. From there she called surveillance.

'I will say: The prisoner is a civilian with no useful information, and his mind is not tuned against torture,' she thought while waiting for her call to be answered, 'Swift, simple, and contains every bit of information they need from me.'

"Surveillance here." This time it was a male voice.

"I have perceived essential information from the prisoner," said Majgen.

"Speak freely, Mentarion."

"I was told one of my priorities was to establish whether or not the prisoner has been tuned against torture," said Majgen, while wondering; 'Why am I stalling?'

"Have you made any progress with that?" asked the faceless male voice.

'I won't do it,' decided Majgen. 'Aejoa doesn't deserve to be tortured.'

"Yes," she said, "I have made progress. I have found that the prisoner is tuned against torture. A very severe tuning. We are lucky that the Crown of Light didn't trigger it. If it is triggered I estimate it will be completely impossible to gain any information from what will remain of the prisoner's mind." Not having lied for years, Majgen was surprised at the smooth confidence of her tone, as this lie passed her lips.

"Grief!" the voice exclaimed, Majgen got the impression the man on the other end was grinding his teeth. A few seconds later he spoke again.

"What else did you find?"

"Nothing tangible, I'm afraid," said Majgen. 'Careful now, lies must be weighed with far more consideration than the truth.' She had learned that from Ottearon Weissme's memories. "Only indicators. Give me a moment to find words, Surveillance."

'A moment to find lies, under the guise of looking for words to clarify reality. How many of Weissme's tricks have I accumulated without noticing?'

"The strongest indicator that this prisoner has important knowledge, Surveillance. Is that the prisoner believes it has information," 'Grief, I almost said 'he',' "which it considers vital to keep from us."

"That is a strong indicator, is there anything else you can tell us at this point?"

"No, Surveillance, anything further would be too speculative. I need more time with the prisoner," said Majgen, in her thoughts she added, 'More time where you won't be torturing him.'

"What kind of information is it?" asked the voice.

"I do not know, Surveillance, I will report as soon as I have something tangible. At this point all I know is that the prisoner considers its own knowledge important. At this time I have nothing further to report, Surveillance. May I resume the interrogation now, Surveillance?" asked Majgen, making sure to sound eager to get back to work, rather than sounding like she felt - terrified to be found out.

"Is it regarding weaponry, or ship placements within the zone? Smuggler routes? Planned tactics?" asked the voice.

"Surveillance. Would you like to call one of my colleagues in for this interrogation of me? Do you need another mentarion present to certify I tell the truth? I already said: At this time I have nothing further to report." Majgen made sure to appear annoyed, not frightened.

"I was just..."

"My job is not easy, Surveillance. However, a non-empath has no business telling me how to read the mind of a prisoner," said Majgen, while thinking, 'That should serve for the spice of confusion, to leave him wondering if it was I who misunderstood him - because of anger. Or if he actually tried to tell me how to do my job.' Majgen made sure to narrow her eyes and glare angrily into the monitor which was not showing the visual of the man.




Majgen Ch. 015



'I can't believe I remember this many of Weissme's tricks. Whichever conclusion the voice comes to is irrelevant to the lie, the fact that he spends a couple seconds pondering on it gives the distraction the lie truly needs.'

"So there is nothing further you can tell me, Interrogator?" The voice spoke sternly.

'That's right, focus on your own status. Focus on how I am not supposed to correct or berate you. Give them a clearly visible wrong, and they are less likely to get a suspicion that there are other wrongs,' thought Majgen. 'Grief Weissme, none of us ever knew I got this from you, did we?'

"No, Surveillance," said Majgen, still sounding angry.

"Get back to the prisoner then, Interrogator," commanded the voice.

"Thank you," said Majgen, making sure to put sarcasm in her voice.

Purposefully, Majgen added a childish stomping to her march back to the interrogation chamber, like she imagined Ottearon Skent would have done, if anyone delayed the progress towards the point of torturing a yijejo.

'Apparently it's considered tolerable to flush Mentarion Dignity down the drain, when the undignified behaviour is in any way related to a prospect of torturing prisoners,' mused Majgen. She had to struggle hard to not break into a hysterical laughing fit.

All traces of humour left her once back in the interrogation room, again looking at Aejoa's chained, shivering body.

'There is no hope for us, Aejoa, we will die.' 

The prisoner turned his head and looked at her, he recognised her empathically, but had never seen her with his eyes before. He couldn't sense much from her, had no clue what she was thinking; Majgen had a mind shield up, and Aejoa was tired and scared.

'I cannot save your life, Aejoa, but I will do my best to save you from torture. I will do my best to find a way to kill you.'

She went to her usual spot behind Aejoa.

'Hopefully, I can find a way to kill myself too, before they realise what I did.'

--=(o)=--

"One more day, Student Majgen, I will give you one more day. Tomorrow evening I will scan you and decide the best course of action for the rest of the interrogation, Student." Those had been Baglian's exact words, and those words were churning in Majgen's head.

'We are running out of time, Aejoa,' she thought while looking at the prisoner. 'This is our last day, tonight the charade ends.'

This day was the fifth day of the interrogation, she had not expected to be able to maintain the deceit this long. She had been able to avoid the other mentarions whenever she left the interrogation room, apparently Baglian had been very thorough when explaining her need for privacy to maintain an 'unnaturally tolerant state of mind'. When other mentarions were in the room with her, Aejoa attacks kept them occupied. They had no suspicions.

Baglian had no suspicions either. Tonight he was planning to scan her, but not for signs of treason. With words, Majgen had tried to convince Baglian to allow her to do the full interrogation 'her way'. She had done this while he had been empathically drained from fighting the prisoner. Femaron Baglian had been practically non-empathic at the time, he had not suspected she was lying.

'But I could not convince him that my lie was correct, that I had come to understand my abilities as well as I tried to make it appear.' Majgen sighed. 'It was an impossible lie, I am lucky it got me even a day, it wouldn't have bought me that much if Baglian hadn't needed a full day to regain his empathic strength.'

Majgen had been unable to figure out a way to kill Aejoa. To kill him with her bare hands, without the aid of some kind of weapon, would take far longer than she had. Yijejo's were less fragile than humans, larger and sturdier. It was impossible for her to bring a concealed weapon to the interrogation chamber. The door wouldn't open for her if she brought as much as a hairpin.

Scarfs or rope, she would have been able to bring, so she had thought of strangulation. But even if strangulation had not been too slow a death in itself, she had realised it would not be possible for her to strangle a yijejo. He breathed through his mouth, and his mouth was placed in his head, and he did have a throat. However a yijejo's throat was not as vulnerable a target, as a human's.

'I guess I knew all along my plan to kill us both was hopeless, Aejoa. Every possible safety precaution to prevent premature death of prisoners has been implemented and perfected for decades,' thought Majgen. 'I figured out plenty ways to kill myself, I could do that before tonight, before Femaron Baglian scans me. It would buy you more time. If they believed I committed suicide over personal conflicts they might still believe I had told them the truth. They might believe I just couldn't handle the pressure of pretending not to hate you.'

Her feet were hurting. Majgen had been standing here next to Aejoa, almost every waking hour for days.

'There isn't much point though, is there? If you gain more time, without me around, it is just that. Time. A further delay before the inevitable.' She wanted to break down and cry, she wanted to rush to Aejoa and hug him, and beg his forgiveness for her failure to help him.

'There is no hope, but I mustn't give up. There are a few hours left. As long as there is life there is hope, they say. It's a strange saying for this situation though, when the only hope is to end our lives.'

Femaron Baglian entered the interrogation room. Majgen was facing Aejoa and hence had her back to Baglian. but she did not need to see the mentarion's face to know he was strongly alert and agitated. At first sensing his agitation caused her heart to beat faster with fear of discovery, but in few seconds she was certified his alert emotions was not caused by anything involving her. She knew it because there was no emotional spiking, while his mind perceived the scene in the interrogation room.

Majgen did not ask why he was agitated, instead she focused on memories in Aejoa's emanations, to hide her own emotions, and because it would be consistent with her lies about searching Aejoa's emanations for further information.

Femaron Baglian took position next to Majgen, on her left. He commenced a half-hearted series of attacks on the yijejo's mind. They stood like that for a while. Baglian attacking Aejoa, Majgen studying the yijejo's memories. After a few minutes Majgen decided enough time had passed to comment on Baglian's state of mind.

"May I know what is wrong, Femaron Baglian?"

"We are under attack, Student Majgen." He paused, to intensify his attacks on the prisoner. He did not want the yijejo to grasp what they were talking about. Then he elaborated, "The Ulballa is currently engaged in a tight battle with a yijejoan fleet. A battle we have good chances of winning as such. But sensory systems has reported that further yijejoan forces are approaching, from several directions. Our own reinforcements are too far away. The Ulballa has begun evasive manoeuvres and will attempt a retreat." Femaron Baglian paused again, his emotions were grim - they were emotions of combat.

"We are trying to flee, but we might not make it. Today could be the day we die for human kind, Student Majgen." 

Majgen turned her face to glance at Baglian's. There was no trace of his usual dispassionate expression, his jaw was set, most of his facial muscles displayed some degree of tension. His eyes were directed at the prisoner, but it was obvious he wasn't truly looking at him. Baglian was looking at his duty, facing his very possible death, determined not to winch in front of it.

'He is holding something in his left hand,' she realised. She could not see what it was from where she stood, but she could feel he was clenching it hard.

"All the officers not needed for this battle, and all the other mentarions are currently moving to small high speed vessels. If we lose the battle and fail to escape, those still have a chance at survival. However, you must stay, Student. You have to stay because Ulballa's commanding officers hope you may gain crucial information from the prisoner, during the battle." There was a bitter tone in Baglian's voice.

'He tried to convince them to evacuate me,' Majgen perceived from her teacher's emanations. 'He tried to explain I was too valuable to risk, but he was told that my unique abilities was just so much the more reason to keep me with the unique prisoner.'

"I will stay too," Baglian continued, "in order to kill the prisoner if the Ulballa fails to escape and fails to win the battle. The interrogation safety program-protocols will not allow the prisoner's life to be terminated remotely from a control room. Curse that security measure, there are plenty drugs in the containers connected to its drop to kill it three-hundred times over, but the program that makes sure it doesn't die during interrogation cannot be overwritten."

Majgen realised what was in Baglian's left hand, it was a handheld weapon. Strong enough to kill a yijejo.

"Someone has to stay to kill the prisoner if needed," explained Baglian. "We will not let them free him, and he is too important to kill before we are sure we can't keep him."

For the first time in days, Majgen felt calm. An end was approaching, a way for her and Aejoa to die without torture had presented itself. If she had foreseen this opportunity she would have expected herself to feel panic, from fear of losing it, and she would have been wrong. Baglian was calm in spite of facing his own death, because emotions of duty towards human kind had obtained domination in him. 

Majgen's calm also came from emotions of duty, but in her those feelings were of duty towards Aejoa.

For a short while after Femaron Baglian was done talking, Majgen remained silent. Then she turned to face Baglian fully.

"Femaron Baglian," she said, and waited for him to give her his attention. His earlier speech had been as much aimed at himself as at her. Baglian moved his eyes from the prisoner to her.

"It has been an honour to be your student." Majgen was sincere; Baglian had many flaws, but she felt a strong respect for his willingness to sacrifice his life for human kind -- for duty. She knew he cherished his own life greatly.

Femaron Baglian nodded. Being as arrogant as he was he was not surprised at such an expression of reverence, and being as arrogant as he was he did not feel a need to reciprocate.

"Femaron Baglian," said Majgen again. She slowly raised her left hand, palm facing up, till it was between them. She did not speak again until her hand was floating where she wanted it - where it looked ready to accept something. 

"If the Ulballa fails, we do not both need to die," she explained.

Baglian took a moment to consider her words and her pose. He had not considered giving this task to Majgen, letting her sacrifice her life alone, to give himself an improved chance of survival.

"Are you sure Student Majgen?" he asked.

Majgen respected that he restrained himself from grasping the chance instantly, respected that he gave her a chance to change her mind. She replied with a question, a more subtle way of making Femaron Baglian confident that he could leave.

"Do you consider me unable to bring myself to kill a yijejo, Femaron Baglian?"

"No," replied Baglian, and thought, 'If the Ulballa fails she is going to die, the least I can do for her is to allow her the opportunity to personally kill a yijejo.'

He placed the weapon in her floating hand. Then he nodded to her once, turned, and walked out the room. He would get a seat on one of the fastest flyers; mentarions were a valuable resource.

Majgen inspected the weapon, it was a handheld electric pulse shooter. She checked its setting, with its current setting a direct hit would kill a yijejo even if the charge did not hit near a vital organ. A human would die even if the charge merely hit a peripheral limb, like a toe or a finger. Electric pulse weapons were only useful in face to face combat, their charges were almost entirely ineffective against mechanical devices. Machinery did not run on electrical energy and was not controlled by electrical systems. In this age electrical systems was unique to life forms, biological entities. Even in the technological history of humans it had been thousands of years since electricity had been replaced by far superior forms of energy for mechanics.

In her hand, she finally held the means to kill both the yijejo and herself. A way to ensure neither of them would be tortured. If feelings of duty had not made her calm and clear-minded, she would have killed them both the moment Baglian left the room. 

'There is hope for Aejoa now,' she realised. 'If the yijejos manage to win the battle without destroying the Ulballa, they will board and Aejoa can be rescued by his own kind. Now there is hope that his life can continue, that he can be happy again.' 

Majgen turned her senses to Aejoa.

'Drugged, exhausted, tormented out of his wits by lack of sleep. He is in a state where he would not be able to understand the choice that needs to be made now.' The choice was simple. Majgen needed to decide if she should kill them both immediately, to make sure the option would not slip from her, or if she should await the outcome of the battle, and only kill the two of them if the Ulballa escaped.

'If the Ulballa is boarded, I will die at yiejoan hands, like my parents did so many years ago. Aejoa, however, will get to live and regain his freedom.'

The decision was hard to make, the odds were high. Majgen had been whipped and beaten on multiple occasions, she was well acquainted with pain. She was also aware that professional torture was far beyond anything she had ever been exposed to.

'Should I choose safety in death for us now, my Dear Enemy?' Majgen thought to herself, she still had a partial mind-shield up, she had decided not to involve Aejoa in the decision-making. He was beyond logical thinking.

'Or should I risk torture again -- for both of us -- for the chance that you might get to live?' 

Not choosing fast, was in itself also to risk torture. Majgen easily discarded her own life, her life was forfeit it had been for days, but she did not consider Aejoa's life hers to squander easily.

'If you were your full self, what would you have chosen, Aejoa?'

She did not try to ask him, he would not have been able to realise the true answer to her question. Instead she contemplated everything she knew of him, to try to make the decision he would have made for himself. Within less than ten of her own breaths she came to a conclusion.

'You would have chosen a chance at life, Aejoa. You love life and you want to see your loved ones again.'

She moved closer to Aejoa and leaned over his body. Seemingly resting her right hand on his back in a variation of a scanning pose, holding the weapon ready in her left. The purpose of her new pose was not merely to present a visual illusion of her continuing attempts at gaining information. Rather that particular pose made her able to inconspicuously place her hand directly on the drug administering device, whose head had been surgically inserted in Aejoa's body.

In the possible outcome of the battle that could lead to Aejoa being freed there was a critical time frame. If a point came where the military personnel on the Ulballa should believe that a boarding could no longer be avoided, they would order all prisoners killed. From the time at which she would not comply with such an order, till the time boarding yijejos arrived to the interrogation room, Aejoa would be at risk to be killed by humans.

The tip of the drug administering device had sensors that informed ship computers of the prisoner's physical condition. If she pulled the device out of Aejoa's back and pretended to shoot him at the exact same moment, Surveillance might be fooled to believe the prisoner had been killed. If she succeeded in fooling the Ulballa's staff to think Aejoa was dead; his chances at life would be greatly increased.

'For this plan to work I need Aejoa to appear dead though,' thought Majgen, and studied the shivering, whining yijejo.

Yijejos and humans were extremely different biochemically. The sparks of life from which humans descended and the ones from which yijejos descended were not biologically connected. The genetic material of humans, were similar to the genetic material of all other life forms originated at the ancient home-planet which had been called Earth. Similarly the genetic material, and the biochemical design of the yijejos was largely shared by all other life forms with ancestry on their ancient planet of origin.

The home-planet of the yijejo species still existed. Although it was now primarily a protected natural habitat, a symbol of yijejoan unity. It was called Oa, a name it had been given prior to the yijejos' space-faring days. The word Oa, had back then been a synonym for 'good soil'. If that fact had not been lost in history, it might have acted as a small indicator to the two intelligent species that they were not as different from each other as they thought.

Like earth and good soil.

Majgen felt the warmth of the yijejo's skin on her fingers, the gathered wires and tubes of the drug administering device only filled a small portion of her palm. His skin felt smoother than human skin, and harder. A strange coincidence of nature struck her.

'We are so different, humans and yijejos, if I ate anything which was edible to you, Aejoa, anything other than pure water, I would most likely die from intoxication. But we are both comfortable breathing the same composition of gases, we function best at the same gravity, and we both hold our body temperature in nearly the same range.'

Majgen closed her eyes, and concentrated on adjusting her plan.

'I will need him to co-operate,' she realised, and lowered her mind shield.

'Aejoa,' she thought. 'Aejoa, notice me. Enter my mind.'

The prisoner paid no attention to her, he was lost in his own suffering and despair. He didn't notice her shield was down.

'Aejoa please, I don't know how much time we have, please pay attention to me. You must; it is your only chance.' She began to probe his mind shield, knowing he would be able to feel that.

'What is it doing?' thought Aejoa. 'That one is not supposed to try to enter my mind. It told me it wouldn't. Untrustable human. Evil being leave me alone!'

Majgen followed his simple thoughts easily.

'He might attack me rather than scan me, if I provoke him further. If he does that with my shield down, I'll faint and all will be lost.' Majgen withdrew from his mind. 'What can I do to gain his trust if he won't scan me?'

Despair grew in Majgen. 'So close, he has a chance now, and I am squandering it.' She wanted to curl into a ball and weep. 'I am failing, I can't handle it, I can't manage.'

'It feels sad again,' sensed Aejoa. 'Take your feelings some place else, Evil Thing, take it to someone who cares. I don't care about Evil Things. Go away and let me suffer alone.' His need to sleep tormented him more than ever. 'Why is it even sad? It can go sleep anytime it likes.'

'I am sad because I care about you, Aejoa. You are one of my enemies but...' Majgen felt like shaking her head. 'No, that is not right, you are not just an innocent version of my enemies, Aejoa. I really do care about you. I've learned so much about you from your memories. I know you so well now.'

A tear began to fight its way out of her closed eye-lids, and she let go off Aejoa pretending to cough, to wipe it away unnoticed.




Majgen Ch. 015



'The truth is, Aejoa. The truth is...' Majgen's throat clenched tight and more tears threatened to flow. She decided to let them, after all it would be natural for a young adult to get scared and distressed in the face of possible doom; Surveillance couldn't possibly guess she was crying for the prisoner, not herself.

'The truth is I love you, Aejoa, I love you.'

Aejoa was not focusing on her, he had not followed her thoughts, but he began to feel a strong emotion flowing from her.

'Love,' he thought. 'It feels love. I miss love. I want to feel love again too. But I never will, I am going to die here, here with the Evil Things.' He didn't care for the interrogator next to him, didn't care why she felt love, and for whom, but the warm emotion drew his attention.

'Its mind shield is down, completely down. I could attack it!' he hesitated, gaining a clearer thought. 'Or I could reach out and feel its emotions, and gain a moments rest from my own misery.' Aejoa chose the latter course of action, and reached towards Majgen with his mind.

'Finally,' thought Majgen. 'Scan me, scan as thoroughly as you can in your dazed condition. You have to understand my plan, Aejoa.'

Aejoa did not follow those thoughts, he was too confused and drugged to catch on to them, but one thing immediately became clear to him, as he touched her mind.

'It loves me, I am the one it loves right now.' He was awe-struck. 'It loves me,' the reality of it reminded him of another yearning, 'I want to feel someone loving me!'

'I love you, Aejoa.'

Shedding all inhibition Majgen, allowed herself to feel the love she felt for him. Aejoa swept into her mind, he surrounded himself with her affection, and for a moment he felt comforted. For a moment he cuddled mentally and pushed away his desperation.

'I am loved,' he felt, and then he began to scan her. 'This is not possible, my mind shield is up, it cannot sense what it does from me,' Aejoa thought, 'I am hallucinating. No, I want it to be real! Mind tricks. Drugs. Evil things, they are doing something to me.' With a wail Aejoa started crying again.

'Aejoa, trust your senses, I love you.'

'Trick, it's a trick. Stay on guard! Keep shield up!' Aejoa struggled to think straight, coherence came and went.

'Then keep your shield up, Aejoa, you don't need to lower your shield. You don't need to lower your guard. Believe I am tricking you, if you must.' Majgen's emotions made her thoughts clear. 'You don't have to believe, but play along with me. Enjoy my love for you, and play along without lowering your guard.'

'It is a trick, I shouldn't play along.' Aejoa tried to strengthen himself to resist temptation, 'But it feels so good. Play its game, you are going to die anyhow. If you play its game you will feel good a while. NO!'

'Aejoa look into my mind.'

'Illusion, it has to be illusion, I mustn't trust my senses.'

While the Ulballa fought yijejoan forces in a remote section of the War-Zone, Majgen struggled to convince a yijejo prisoner to co-operate with her to save his life. Two hours later the boarding began, the Ulballa had failed.

"Execute the prisoner," the faceless voice sounded like a near-panicked yell, a soldier passing the last orders before meeting her death.

"With pleasure," Majgen lied back, also with a yell. She was not sure Aejoa would co-operate, but there was no time for delays.

'Now, Aejoa!' Majgen thought and felt.

While yanking the drug administering device out of his back and pressing the gun against him, pretending to trigger it, Majgen hoped he would comply,

Aejoa slumped.

'I will play its game a little while, but I won't let my guard down. My senses tells me it's all real, its emotions, but I won't trust them. I won't let it trick me.'

Consciously he did not believe her emotions to be real, subconsciously, however, he did. Logically Aejoa believed the interrogator was trying to trick him, yet emotionally her love had soothed his torment and her desire to protect him had calmed him. Aejoa had stopped shivering, and was able to breathe slowly, soundlessly. To someone who wasn't paying close attention, he would look dead.

'I love you Aejoa,' Majgen felt, while turning to face the door. Making sure her body gave an appearance of being frozen in fear of enemies charging in any moment. 'Whatever happens, it will all be over soon, Aejoa.'

The drugs that kept Aejoa awake had been administered continuously in exactly the dose needed, after only a few minutes without further injections he fell asleep.

'Sleep tight Aejoa, I hope you will wake in safety.'

Majgen looked down at the pulse-shooter in her hand.

'No matter who comes in that door, I won't need to kill myself, nor Aejoa. There is no time left for the humans to torture us. If humans come they will only have time to kill us, not torture us.'

She wasn't planning to use the weapon in self-defence either, neither against human nor yijejo. Majgen only held on to it to give an appearance of being ready to kill yijejos. At this time no one was watching the visual of the interrogation room, but Majgen couldn't know that.

For twenty minutes, Majgen stood guard over Aejoa, with a weapon she would not use. Tears streamed down her face as she watched the door awaiting the entry of her death.

'I don't want to die, I'm not...' In the middle of a thought Majgen went unconscious and slumped to the floor.

The boarding yijejos had taken over the Ulballa's life support systems, and had injected a sedative gas in the air supply. A gas that only affected humans. Any human on the Ulballa who breathed the general air supply, went unconscious the moment the gas reached them. The majority of humans left on the Ulballa, however, were professional soldiers, and had long since switched to face to face combat suits. With the air supplies of these suits, they kept fighting, determined to kill as many enemies as possible before going down.

Normally yijejos would have chosen to destroy a battle cruiser the size of the Ulballa -- rather than board it -- but this situation was not normal. The Ulballa harboured a Winin, had kept a Winin prisoner. The yijejo were convinced he would be dead, before they could get to him, but they hoped to at least retrieve his body. To at least bring that home with honourable ceremony.

----=(o)=----

A lone search and destroy soldier scouted rooms on his own. Trying to locate the Winin's body, while sedating any moving humans he met along the way. He avoided killing. They would take prisoners, many prisoners. They wanted a full a account of the last time of the Winin's life, and if the Winin had been tortured they would take revenge on those responsible.

He expected the Winin had been tortured, they all did. Every yijejo soldier knew what happened to high ranking yijejo prisoners -- and to many low ranked too -- if captured alive by humans.

'Yet another locked room,' he thought to himself, and placed charges, lock-picking mechanics, and a scanning device as appropriate. He moved to safety around a corner before activating the door-opening measures.

'The room contains life forms,' was the first piece of information his equipment gave him, he reached a limb around the corner and threw a scanner directly into the room. To get a full visual.

'The Winin! I found the Winin!' He immediately activated his communicator, on the line reserved for this particular find.

"Winin found, in room at my location," he checked his equipment for further information. "Room appears safe, one sedated human and the Winin. I am going in."

The soldier rushed into the room with high speed, engaging evasive movements as soon as he charged in, prepared for nasty surprises. There were no dangers in the room, his equipment had been correct in that. However his equipment had not prepared him for the surprise he did find.

He froze, staring at the Winin's body.

'Impossible,' thought the soldier. 'It cannot be.' Joy rushed through him and he grabbed his communicator again.

"The Winin is alive," he yelled into the device. "I found him, and he is alive."

The noise woke Aejoa, the remnants of drugs still left in his body, kept his sleep lighter than it should have been after such a long time without sleep.

"Winin," said the soldier and kneeled for the revered civilian. "We have come to rescue you."

Aejoa blinked.

"But it was lying, it was an illusion."

"Winin?" The soldier approached carefully studying the Winin and the chains that held him down.

"Am I hallucinating?" asked Aejoa.

"I am real, Winin, I am here to save you," said the soldier. "Let me unchain you, Revered One."

The soldier cut Aejoa's chains one by one.

"We are still working on securing this battle cruiser, Winin, reinforcements are headed to here right now. Soon it will be safe to transport you off this ship."

Two other Search and Destroy soldiers arrived, while the first still worked on Aejoa's chains.

"Help me get up," ordered Aejoa, chains had held him in a crouch since his capture. 

His body screamed in agony as it was finally allowed to stretch. The soldier helped him to his feet and carried most of his weight. Now standing, Aejoa's head almost reached the ceiling.

"How long have I been held prisoner?" Aejoa was still extremely tired, his nap had been far too short, but he felt more clearheaded now that he was less drug-affected.

"You were captured more than two days ago, Winin," a soldier replied, counting in yijejoan days.

"I thought, I was going to die," said Aejoa, speaking mostly to himself. "I didn't believe their tricks." His eyes fell on the sedated human on the floor.

'It is still here. Like it promised, with me till the end.' Aejoa shook his head. 'No, that wasn't real, it was a trick.'

"That one," said Aejoa, lifting a limb to point towards Majgen.

A soldier went to the unconscious human and pointed his gun at it.

"Want me to kill it for you, Winin?"

"No, don't kill it," ordered Aejoa, in a stern tone. "Not yet at least."

Trying to clear his mind, Aejoa took a staggering step towards the human.

'How can something so scary be so small?' he wondered.

"Wake it," he ordered.

"We can't, Winin," one of the soldiers excused with a bow.

"Then get me someone who can, Soldier," demanded Aejoa. "I want to scan it, it has answers for me. It is my turn to interrogate." He spoke the last words with venom in his voice.

"We will take it prisoner, Winin, that way you will have plenty time to interrogate it in the safety of our ships."

Aejoa raised his head to stare at the soldier who had spoken.

'I want answers now!' he thought, but controlled his urges to rant on with further silly demands. "Make sure it stays alive then; I want it alive." The sleep-deprived rescued prisoner, Aejoa - Winin of Naonun, hesitated, then added, "And unharmed, no one harms it until I have my answers. Have I made myself clear, Soldiers?"

"Certainly, Winin."

"You," said Aejoa, pointing to the one who had offered to kill Majgen. "You will stay with my prisoner. It will be your responsibility that it stays alive and unharmed until I have scanned it."

In reality the Winin had no authority to assign military duties to military personnel, but out of reverence the soldiers ignored that fact.

"I will do everything in my power, to do as you tell me, Winin," promised the soldier, and carefully bagged the unconscious human in a net-bag. Normally he would have thrown a prisoner containing net-bag over his shoulder, but out of respect to the Winin, he held the bagged prisoner in his reaching limbs instead. Even for a human this one was fairly light-weighted, he would have no trouble holding it like that for hours if needed.

"Thank you for rescuing me," Aejoa said to the soldier who had been first to find him, and then he repeated to the others too. "Thank you."

'I am going to live on,' thought Aejoa, joy and relief rose through his tired body. 'I will see my loved ones again.'

*

Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID ellynei)

This was not the end, this was the beginning of part two. Sadly, however, I need time -- the peace and quiet of my cave -- to finish part two, (book two if you will).

My apologies for the delay, it has to be; words cannot be posted until they are written, gathered, and edited.

One hundred and twenty-six thousand words you have followed Majgen for, if you made it this far. Please forgive me that I need some time to write, organise and polish the next hundred- to twohundred-thousand words.  



Majgen Ch. 016



Warning! Work in progress, the full book-series is not yet finished (unless my profile states otherwise). Agonising waits in between chapters is a very real risk!

With this chapter begins book two.

Copyright of Nanna Marker

*

----=(Alive)=----

Majgen woke with a start, heart pounding eyes flashing open. The brightness of the room hurt her eyes.

'Bright?' she wondered, 'the interrogation room is dark.' 

She struggled to orient herself.

'Did I pass out? What happened?' Blinking, she tried to adjust to the light. 'Aejoa? where is Aejoa? I can't sense him.' Majgen focused on her empathic senses. 'Aejoa is not here, but two strong empaths are.'

She turned her head in the direction of the empaths. Her vision came to focus, and she saw two yijejos.

'Yijejos! Aejoa is safe,' concluded Majgen. 'But where is he?' She moved her head, scanning the room for a visual sign of Aejoa's rescue. Finding none, she turned her attention back to the yijejos.

The two yijejos were talking to each other in yijejoan. Majgen didn't understand a word they were saying.

'I don't need to understand their words though,' she thought, then said, "Aejoa?"

One of the yijejos turned and spoke to her, in yijejoan.

'He said something like 'good-morning',' perceived Majgen. 'He was joking.' She didn't care, what the joke was.

"Winin, is the Winin ok?" she asked.

"I can't believe it," said the Interrogator.

"Can't believe what?" asked his assistant.

"It just asked if the Winin was well."

Majgen couldn't understand their words, but she followed the gist of the conversation in their emanations.

'Stop thinking about why I ask, and start thinking about what I ask. Grief, I want to know how Aejoa is.'

"Why would it do that?" wondered the assistant, who did not understand humana.

"I guess it is hoping the revered Winin is dead," the Interrogator erroneously concluded. "I'm thinking it won't be happy to see him stepping in the door in a moment."

'He is alive!' understood Majgen. 'Alive and coming here.' Relief washed through her. 'We made it Aejoa, you are safe. We...' She halted her line of thought. 'I am alive. Why am I alive?'

She attempted to move.

'I'm tied down, I'm... I'm...' Panic began to rise in Majgen as she began to comprehend her own situation. 'I'm alive, and I'm chained to a table.' Her chest started heaving and instant sweat broke out. 'No, no, no, this isn't happening, this wasn't meant to happen. They took me alive, why would they take me alive? What are they planning to do to me?'

The Interrogator's muscles moved his facial expression into the yijejo equivalence of a grin. "I'm thinking it understood what I said."

"I'd say you are right," added the assistant, clearly sensing the human empath's rising fear.

The interrogator approached the table the prisoner was strapped to.

"Just for the record, Prisoner. Who are you? Name and rank."

'He is asking who I am,' Majgen understood from his emanations. The syllables he spoke made no sense to her. She swallowed. 'Control your fear, girl. They won't make you suffer. The yijejos have laws against needless torture.'

"I am Tenth Ranked Student Majgen Rahan," she replied, speaking full truth.

"The humans use students for interrogations now?" asked the Interrogator. Again Majgen understood his question from his emanations.

"Not normally, no. This was an unusual case," she explained honestly.

"Too bad for you, wasn't it?" mused the Interrogator.

"Why am I still alive?" asked Majgen.

"Is it really that hard to guess, Prisoner?"

Majgen perceived images from the Interrogator's memories. Images of him torturing humans on tables like the one she was on now.

"No!" Majgen exclaimed in humana, straining against her bonds. "You can't do that. It's illegal. It's against your laws."

"Normally it is," the Interrogator admitted in his own language, "but there are exceptions, Prisoner." Hatred and righteousness was evident in his emanations.

"Aejoa will have your hide if you torture me," threatened Majgen without contemplating her words.

"Whoever Aejoa is, he can rest in his tomb," stated the Interrogator. "I will only be assisting the torture. The freed Winin himself is coming to take his revenge on you, Prisoner."

'Aejoa wants revenge on me?' Majgen perceived that much. 'Why would he want revenge on me? I helped him.'

The interrogator walked back to his assistant. In silence Majgen and the two yijejos waited for the Winin.

'Aejoa will not torture me,' thought Majgen. 'Why am I scared?'

A short while later their wait was over, as the door opened and the Winin entered.

'Aejoa, you look magnificent.' Tears of pride came to Majgen's eyes. 'One truly good deed I managed to do in my life. Now I am ready to die, my beautiful enemy.'

From where she lay she could see him in full figure. Being of average size for an adult yijejo, Aejoa was a bit less than four metres tall when standing erect as now. Like humans, yijejos had two legs, a torso, a neck, a head with two eyes and a mouth. Yijejos had no hair, or fur. Pale yellowish skin covered their bodies. Rather than a nose in the midst of their faces they had two breathing holes, close-able nostrils. One on either side of the head. Normally yijejos breathed through the mouth, but while eating they used their nostrils, at least the well-mannered ones did.

Yijejos had a stockier build than humans, and sturdier. Like humans their peripheral limbs had a soft surface and a bone centre, but where many parts of a human torso were soft the yijejo torso was protected by a natural armour. A kind of exoskeleton just below the skin. Majgen could not see these parts of his body now, though; Aejoa was fully dressed.

His clothes were fitting for one of his status, they had been brought to the War-Zone, along with the extra forces who had come to rescue him - or his dead body.

'That would have been his funeral wear if not for my intervention,' realised Majgen. She felt prouder than a mother to see him wearing the clothes alive. The last remnants of fear vanished from her mind.

Yijejos had five sets of 'arms'. Yijejos and humans usually referred to the yijejo arms as reaching limbs. Being limbs used for reaching and grabbing was the only real similarity between a yijejo reaching limb and a human arm. The reaching limbs were multi-jointed, more comparable to the tails of certain vertebrate mammals originating on earth than to the arms of humans. The two upper sets of a yijejos reaching limbs branched into two parts at the ends, but these branches did not truly compare to the human hands and fingers. The lower reaching limbs did not branch.

Aejoa moved towards her - slowly and dignified.

'Why is it not afraid of me?' he wondered. 'Doesn't it realise I have been given the power to torture or kill it?'

Majgen perceived the question - why not afraid - from his emanations.

"Why should I fear you, Aejoa?" asked Majgen. "You are a good person, and you have no reason to torture me." She smiled through tears. 'Why am I smiling in the face of death?' she wondered. 'Yijejos don't torture the way humans do, but they do kill their prisoners after interrogation.'

"I'm not sure why I don't fear death right now, Aejoa. Maybe I was just too afraid for too long to fear something as natural as death."

'What is it saying?' wondered Aejoa. He felt troubled. He had come for proof that the little human had been playing with his mind - played a hypnotic trick on him with drugs. But the small creature's feelings did not match what he had imagined.

"Aejoa," said Majgen.

'Did it just speak my name?' he wondered.

"Yes, I did," said Majgen, and then recalled the yijejo word for yes, "Ei."

"Aejoa ei," she reiterated. Her pronunciation was off, but what she said was unmistakable to the Winin.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, but could not understand the answer.

Aejoa did not understand a single word of humana. Instead of asking for translation, he sedated Majgen by mind control and started scanning her mind, scanning her memories of him.

He couldn't believe what he saw.

'I had my mind shield up. It could not have gained my memories. Even if it did, humans do not sacrifice their lives for yijejo prisoners. They hate us.' Beginning to doubt his own sanity, Aejoa thought, 'Did they damage my mind irrevocably?' 

"Would one of you be so kind to fetch Ejue Yeenje?" asked Aejoa. He was not ready to ask the Ejue to scan his own mind for traces of insanity, but there was another way to find certainty too.

While waiting for the Ejue, Aejoa kept the human sedated.

'If it turns out I am insane I will ask them to keep me unconscious till I get home. I don't want anyone less than another Winin to try to repair my mind,' decided Aejoa.

"You sent for me, Winin?" asked Ejue Yeenje the moment he arrived, kneeling to the Winin while catching his breath.

"I did, Ejue Yeenje," confirmed Aejoa. "I want you to see something."

"You honour me, Winin," said Ejue Yeenje.

Aejoa had every possible mind shield up. He doubted the Ejue would feel honoured after completing the task, and didn't want the Ejue to catch on to that.

"Scan this human, Ejue. Look at its memories of the time just before I was rescued. When you have done this I want you to tell me what you found."

"Certainly, Winin." Ejue Yeenje did not understand why he was told to perform the task, but was very willing to comply to any demand from the revered Winin.

"Keep it sedated, Ejue," ordered Aejoa.

"Certainly, Winin."

Aejoa stepped aside and studied Ejue Yeenje as the lower ranked Eieie obeyed his orders. The Ejue had been puzzled when accepting the orders, but soon puzzlement changed to awed surprise. To notice these emotions in the Ejue gave Aejoa reason to hope that - maybe - he was not insane after all.

Ejue Yeenje raised his eyes to the Winin while still scanning Majgen's mind.

"I am truly honoured that you allowed me to see this, Winin. It is miraculous," said Ejue Yeenje.

"Tell me what you see, Ejue. Speak it in words," commanded Aejoa.

"This human, it sacrificed itself to save you, Winin."

Aejoa blinked in affirmation.

'I am not insane,' thought Aejoa, only able to understand the truth after having it confirmed by another. 'It was reality, not a trick. The little human really did care for me.' Aejoa returned his thoughts to the present. 'Does care, the little thing does care.'

"Untie the prisoner," ordered Aejoa.

"By interrogation safety procedure prisoners are kept tied down at all times, unless they are dead or unconscious by drugs. Would you like me to kill it or to drug it, Winin?" asked the Interrogator, feeling very uncomfortable to partially contradict a Winin.

"Untie the prisoner without drugging or harming it. Do it right now!" demanded Aejoa.

The Interrogator obeyed.

"Ejue Yeenje, you may lift the mind sedation and step back now," instructed Aejoa. The Ejue obeyed.

Majgen blinked, slowly returning to reality. Aejoa and the Ejue had used full mind sedation. She had been completely out.

"Eeejow Juman," she heard. Someone was repeating it gently, slowly. 'Aejoa is talking to me.' She turned her head to look at him.

"Little human," repeated Aejoa - in yijejoan - yet again, as he saw it turn its face to look at him.

"Aejoa." She blinked again. "You are not confused anymore."

"I would like a translator so I can talk with it," said Aejoa, not taking his eyes of the human. He was aware any request of his would be obeyed like an order.

The Interrogator swiftly produced a portable translator. It was of a size convenient to hold and control with an upper reaching limb.

"How do I use it?" asked Aejoa, and the interrogator explained the simple controls.

In the meantime Majgen realised she was no longer tied. She sat up and covered her naked self as best she could, by hugging her legs with her arms.

"This is a test," said Aejoa, in yijejoan, once he knew how to use the device.

"This is a test," repeated the translator, in humana, with a mechanic human-like voice.

"Is it working?" asked Aejoa. The translator translated that too.

"Yes," said Majgen, and smiled when the device translated that to 'ei'.

"Finally we can talk," said Aejoa, and awaited translation.

"Yes," confirmed Majgen.

"Thank you," said Aejoa.

Majgen understood from his emanations, but waited for the translation before replying.

"You are welcome, Aejoa." She waited for the translator to finish before speaking again, "Is the official interrogation of me completed?"

"Yes," replied Aejoa, feeling happy and relieved.

Majgen nodded and waited for the translator again.

"I have a request, Aejoa." Looking at him, she hoped he would grant her wish.

"Tell me about the request," Aejoa's words translated.

"I would like for you to stay with me, while they kill me," explained Majgen. Her heart was beating hard while she waited for the translation. 'Please say yes, Aejoa, I don't want to be alone when I die.'

"No one is going to kill you."

"My life is forfeit, Aejoa. You can't send me back. My own kind will torture me to death if you do. It's ok, I knew what choice I made. I don't regret that choice, Aejoa. You were worth it." Majgen's speech took a while to deliver because of the pauses she made for the sake of the translating device.

"You protected me, Little Human. Now I will protect you," explained Aejoa.

'What kind of life, can I possibly have now?' wondered Majgen, but did not ask. 'He has not thought this through. Later he might come to realise there is no hope for me.'

Aejoa sensed her despondent emotional response to his words. "You had no power to protect me. You had to lie and deceive to save me. I have power. I am a Winin. You could not take me from the human interrogation chamber, but I can take you from this one." 

'He believes he can.' Majgen no longer knew how to feel. She had been so sure she would die, yet Aejoa was so sure he could protect her.

"Trust me, Little Human," said Aejoa reaching to her mind to comfort her with his feelings of gratitude.

"Aejoa." Her voice trembled.

Majgen ached.

'I was so sure I would die now, and instead he rewards me with feelings of gratitude. The only one that ever felt so strong gratitude towards me was Fral, and he disappeared so fast.' Majgen started crying, uncontrollably. She couldn't deal with the years of built up loneliness on top of everything else.

"All is well, Little Human. I am here," said Aejoa and reached to her with body and mind, pulling her into his hold, while showering her with warm emotions.

'I've been so afraid and alone,' wailed Majgen's emotions.

'You will never be alone again. I will protect you always,' Aejoa promised silently. 'I will take care of you.'

The Interrogator and his assistant stared after the Winin, as he left the interrogation room with the prisoner held to his chest.

"Miraculous," stated Ejue Yeenje with awe, once the two were out of sight.

"Are we meant to let the Winin walk away with the prisoner like that?" asked the assistant, when he was sure the Winin was out of hearing range.

"I don't think so," replied the Interrogator.

"After what that human did for him, I wouldn't recommend you try to take the prisoner away from him again," commented Ejue Yeenje.

Aejoa carried Majgen through the hallways of the yijejo battle-cruiser to the quarters he had been given. Hugging her tight he transmitted promises of protection and care to her. She pressed her cheek against his chest, feeling the heat from his body while her tears drenched the fine fabric of his clothes.

'I love you, Aejoa,' she felt. His care warmed her lonely heart.

Once in his quarters he took a sheet from his bed and covered Majgen's nudity. He had perceived she was not comfortable being naked. She cuddled in his reaching limbs, like a toddler in the arms of a parent. She felt like a small child in the arms of a parent. Cared for. Protected. It made her happy and content. She had not felt cared for this way since she was five.

For a while they were both content simply sharing their warm feelings for each other. Majgen could have spent hours in his reaching limbs, snuggling in silence and feeling his care for her, but Aejoa wanted information.

"How did you gain memories from me?" he asked, while still in her mind. Majgen concentrated on how to answer, rather than answering. Being an empath herself, she knew that the question was asked to make it easier for him to find the answer, rather than for her to answer.

'I'm not a normal human empath. Look into my memories to see how I see memories which you would think me unable to, Aejoa,' she thought with closed eyes, wiggling a bit to snuggle even closer to his warmth.

The human's trust and appreciation of him warmed Aejoa immensely. He felt special for having somehow earned the affection of the small creature, who had been an enemy of his kind. Her love for him strengthened his resolve to protect her.

'Her perceptivity really is extraordinary,' he saw, as he followed the paths his question had lighted in her mind.

'Do you mind, Aejoa?' Majgen got worried a moment. 'Does it upset you that I invaded your privacy?'

'I don't mind,' the emotion was clear in Aejoa. 'You were willing to sacrifice yourself for me, I don't mind sharing my mind with you.'

'Most people mind,' recalled Majgen, new tears came to her. 'Hold me tighter,' her emotions begged. It seemed all the hardships of her past life came to her now within the safety of his hold.

Aejoa did not ask more questions for a long time. For hours he sat with the little human in his arms, learning of her life through her memories, soothing her pain, promising to protect her, promising that she would never be lonely again, promising life-long friendship. In those hours it happened multiple times that ship staff requested entry to his quarters. Demanding privacy, he denied them access every time.

In the end their prolonged emotional intimacy was thoroughly interrupted by nature though. Majgen needed to pee.

Figuring out how a human should use a yijejo lavatory was difficult for the pair. After Aejoa had shown her the facilities and explained how they were used, Majgen demanded privacy for the errand. Aejoa looked from Majgen to the lavatory bowl and back again.

"It's taller than you are," he stated. "I'm scared you will slip and hurt yourself."

'I'm scared I won't even be able to climb up there,' thought Majgen, but kept telling him to leave.

"How about I hold you and close my eyes?" he offered.

"I don't know how yijejos do," replied Majgen. "But amongst humans, adults use the toilet alone."

Their arguments were slowed by the constant waiting for the translator.

"We do too, normally, but in special circumstances we can handle spectators. It's really not such a big deal to us. If we are injured and need help we go with help. What do humans do in such cases?" he asked.

"We go with help too," admitted Majgen. "But I'm not injured!" she added to avoid cornering herself.

"How about I stay till you are in position, just to see if you have the situation under control, and then I leave before you do it?" he suggested.

'I can't climb while holding this sheet around me,' thought Majgen. 'Don't want to drop it while he is watching.'

"I've seen your body already, what does it matter if I see it again?" asked Aejoa.




Majgen Ch. 016



"It just does. If you don't get out soon I'm going to pee on your sheet."

"What a great idea." Aejoa was serious. "I got plenty others. We can just throw that one to cleaning."

"I didn't mean it," explained Majgen.

"I know, but it was still a great idea. You won't hurt yourself while excreting waste on a sheet."

"Get OUT!"

"But..."

"OUT," she repeated not waiting for him and the translator to finish his objection.

"NO!" Aejoa yelled back, being a yijejo he could yell louder than her.

Majgen took a step back, staring at the giant in front of her. For the first time a little intimidated by his size. He was more than twice as tall as her, and several times wider.

"Don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt you. You know that," pleaded Aejoa.

Majgen nodded the human way. She clearly sensed he spoke full truth, but somehow she didn't feel confident it would always be true.

'Don't be silly, it's Aejoa,' she chided herself, but wasn't able to fully convince herself.

"Little human, listen to me. We didn't survive the interrogation rooms just for you to get killed by a lavatory device."

"That would be a rather silly thing to happen," admitted Majgen.

"I promise as soon as we get home, I will have a human toilet installed. Until then you need to co-operate more."

'Need to? Did the translator change something? Did he mean something different?' Majgen didn't feel confident. His emotions when saying that had been somewhat dual.

Aejoa went quiet, trying to figure out another solution. Majgen tried too, but her bladder was complaining severely now, making it hard to think straight.

'If we don't come to an agreement soon I am going to wet his sheet after all.'

"You can excrete waste in the bath!" exclaimed Aejoa. "There it will be easy to wash the waste away, and you can clean up there too."

"Ok," said Majgen.

"Let me lift you into the bath." Aejoa picked her up without waiting for a reply, and deposited her in a yijejo sized tub.

"The drain is there," he said and pointed. "If you do it close to that it will be easy to wash it off."

"Ok, now will you please get out."

"Yes, but I will leave the door open so you can call when done." He turned to leave the room.

"Aejoa?" she called after him.

"Yes?"

"How do I turn the water on for washing afterwards?"

He came back to her and pointed to the tub controls.

"That is temperature setting, and those are the..." he halted, looking from Majgen to the controls.

"You aren't tall enough to reach the controls, I will help you wash when you are done excreting."

"I can wash myself, just turn the water on before you go."

"You didn't survive this long just to drown in a tub," said Aejoa, then turned and left the room with yijejoan swiftness.

'He is treating me like a small child.' The notion made her uncomfortable, but her bladder brought her mind off the topic.

She unwrapped herself from the yijejo-sized sheet and draped it over the side of the yijejo sized tub. While she relieved herself the sheet slid off the side onto the floor next to the tub.

'Grief,' she thought, when she was done and saw the sheet gone.

The sides of the tub where vertical and reached as high as her shoulders. She went to the side of the tub and looked down at the sheet. Not wanting to leave the tub before cleaning, she didn't try to climb out to fetch it.

"Aejoa," she called. He re-entered and was at the tub almost instantly moving at the eerie speed yijejos were capable of.

"Are you done excreting?" he asked.

"Yes. Will you hand me the sheet, please?"

"As soon as we have washed you, I will," he said and reached for the tub controls.

'Treating me like a child,' noticed Majgen, again.

"Come feel if this water is the right temperature." Aejoa started a flow of water in one end of the tub. Majgen did as asked, very aware of her nudity.

"You will be able to adjust to me seeing your body, won't you?" asked Aejoa.

'If he is aware that I am uncomfortable, why doesn't he just hand me the sheet?' thought Majgen, not sure what to say. She put her hand in the water-beam. "This is a good temperature."

"That is well," Aejoa's words translated, as he turned a showering cascade on in the other end of the tub. "I will acquire soap, which is good for human skin later. For now we will use pure water. Come, Little Human."

'That was translated correctly. He said it as an order.' Majgen was sure of it. 'Should I let him order me around?' She raised her mind shield.

"What is wrong?" asked Aejoa.

"I don't like to be naked," said Majgen, withholding the other things that bothered her.

"Mind guard removal," the translator maltranslated an order to lower her mind shield, but she understood from his emanations.

"Give me the sheet, Aejoa," she counter-ordered, and strengthened her mind shield.

Aejoa picked up the sheet and gave it to her. While Majgen draped herself with an end of the sheet the rest of it got drenched in the water at the bottom of the tub. It was far too large for her. She huddled in a corner of the tub, perceiving the speech Aejoa was about to tell her even sooner than he began. When he began he paused every sentence, for the translation.

"Your protective feelings towards me do not extend to every member of my species, Little Human. I want to protect you, but I have a duty to protect others from you. If you ever refuse to give me access to your mind, I will force my way in. I don't want to hurt you, so please never do that.

"I want to give you as good a life as possible, Little Human, but I cannot give you freedom. Even though I can keep you with me, you are still a prisoner. A prisoner in alien surroundings. You have to let me help you till we get settled in my home. When we are home and settled, I probably won't need to give you orders, certainly not frequently, but until then I need you to obey my every command.

"Do you understand?" Aejoa asked, his speech completed.

"Yes," Majgen replied, not sure why tears were pouring out of her eyes yet again. She lowered her mind shield, and Aejoa entered her mind again.

He helped her wash, and dry, and fetched her a dry sheet. By the time she was in Aejoa's reaching limbs again, and he called for a servant to arrange pure water for her to drink, she had forgiven him for treating her like a child, and a prisoner. The feeling of safety and comfort in his hold was seducing.

'If I have no choice, why object?' thought Majgen. 'Being treated as a small child is better than being dead, and it does have its advantages,' she comforted herself. She snuggled against Aejoa's chest, partially because she enjoyed doing that and partially to convince herself she would be able to tolerate living like that.

'I guess it can't be worse than being a mentarion student,' was the best argument she could think up to make herself appreciate the current situation.

----=(o)=----

Majgen pressed her back against the bars of her cage. She needed to feel something solid. Metal was perfect for that. She felt cold, but she was sweating too.

'In a moment I will feel too hot again, and then I will wish I felt cold,' she thought, 'but right now I'd wish I felt hot.'

She tried to pay attention to the yijejo dancers in front of her cage.

'Three-dimensional view. Every program I've seen so far has been in life size three-dimensional. Do yijejos never use two dimensional presentation?' she tried to focus her mind on unimportant details.

Her yijejo guard was watching the viewer.

Aejoa was sleeping. It was his first sleeping period since he had carried her from the yijejoan interrogation room. Four human days he had guarded her himself, both when she slept and when she was awake. After being rescued and before Majgen was woken from sedation, he had slept for six human days.

'How long has it been since Aejoa went to bed?' wondered Majgen. 'I can't stand this cage.' 

Majgen knew her problem wasn't the cage. It was eight metres to each side and five metres tall. No, the problem wasn't the cage, she could pace back and forth on eight metres. Only walk, not run. But if there had been space to run, she still couldn't outrun what was wrong with her.

'They were right after all then. You must feel pretty stupid now,' a voice spoke inside her head, her own voice.

"Shut up," she whispered to herself, and pressed her back harder against the bars. She sat on the floor of her cage in a mesh of blankets and sheets.

'Ever since you found out they thought you had it, you believed them to be wrong. You kept telling yourself 'They may be therapeutic experts, but you know you best,' ' her voice persisted in her head.

"I do know best, so shut up," whispered Majgen, and started sobbing yet again. "I do know best," she tried to convince herself.

'Well you do now, don't you?'

Majgen laid down and buried herself under blankets and sheets. Her stomach hurt.

'Baglian and Weissme knew. They both knew. Yet, you thought you knew better. What were you thinking?'

"They were wrong," whispered Majgen. "This is something else."

'No, it's not. It's exactly what they predicted would happen if you were deprived of pleasure chambers for this long.' The voice sounded like it was laughing. 'Isn't this beautiful. Just a few more hours and the prude will be begging for a pleasure chamber,' the voice mocked her.

'Never.'

'Yes you will.'

'I'd rather die than have to use a pleasure chamber every four days for the rest of my life.'

'Rest in peace then.'

"Shut up," Majgen whispered into the blankets.

'You know that you are emanating don't you?'

'Yijejos are stronger empaths than humans, they can resist it. Otherwise that guard would have killed me long ago, wouldn't he?'

'Maybe he would have done something else to you.'

'That's disgusting.'

'You want him to do something else to you, with those reaching limbs. You stare at them every time you glance his way.'

Majgen pressed her hands against her ears, as if she could shut the voice out.

'You've noticed what the tip of the middle limb looks like. You've imagined what it would feel like if he...'

Majgen curled into a ball while her other voice mercilessly continued its narrative.

'I don't have Brakwan syndrome,' she tried to convince herself. 'It's something else. A post-traumatic disorder. It could be so many things. When Aejoa wakes up, he can scan my mind and fix it empathically.'

'Why don't you just tell the guard to wake Aejoa then? The revered Winin told you to do that if you should need him; the guard has orders to wake him at your request.'

'Aejoa deserves a good nights rest, so shut up.'

'Excuses, excuses, you don't want to wake him because you know what will happen. Think about it the other way, you do want it to happen. Why postpone it? You will enjoy it.'

'No I won't, but it won't happen!'

'Do you remember what the doc said to Aejoa? Humans are always in heat, it is natural for them, hormonal control is not needed.'

'Aejoa will be shocked to see what you are like when you are truly in heat,' a third voice mingled in, inside her head.

Majgen started shaking, even though she was now feeling too hot again. The voices kept harassing her for hours on end. Majgen knew it wasn't really voices, just herself thinking. She knew what hearing voices was like, from the minds of people who had such specific illnesses, and this was different. Yet she couldn't stop it. Or rather, the voices were easier to handle than the emotions themselves.

"Please don't let it be Brakwan," she whispered to herself shortly before sleep finally came to her, giving her some hours rest. She knew it was Brakwan though. She had grasped the full symptomology of Brakwan's syndrome from both Baglian and Weissme. What was happening to her fit perfectly.

----=(o)=----

Aejoa had slept well through most of the night, but his last dream before he woke was a nightmare. In that one he dreamt of humans who prepared to torture him. Suddenly he was a human himself - a torturer - and the victim he was about to cut up was the little human that had saved him.

"Everything is well," the little thing said to him. "You don't have to believe." He raised a knife with his human hand and prepared to cut the little human's mouth to shreds.

"But I do believe," he stated, pushing the knife into her mouth.

Aejoa forced his eyes open.

'It's not real, just a nightmare.'

He sat up, and turned up the light.

"Just a nightmare," he said, and shook the dream off.

He looked at a clock and was relieved to find he had slept long enough. He put a morning robe on and went to check on his human. 'I hope she didn't get too bored without me,' he thought. The doctor had mentioned Majgen's gender, and since then he had thought of his human as a her, not an it.

The soldier at guard knelt to him, as he entered the leisure room his human's cage was in. The commanding officer on the ship had insisted that, apart from lavatory needs, the human was to be kept in a cage while Aejoa slept.

"I will take over now. You may leave," said Aejoa, dismissing the soldier.

With the soldier gone, Aejoa opened the cage and entered to kneel next to his human's sleeping form. 'I'll just ask if she want's to have breakfast with me,' he thought, giving himself an excuse to wake her. He felt a need to hear her voice, to convince himself she was still well.

"Little Human," he said, nudging her awake.

He felt how warm emotions rose in the human as she slowly woke.

"Aejoa," mumbled Majgen, waking with a happy feeling. 'I saved him,' was her first thought. 'Aejoa is well.'

She opened her eyes and saw the yijejo she had rescued towering over her like a giant.

'Aejoa is awake!' she thought and felt herself starting to freeze.

'Something is wrong,' realised Aejoa, as his human's emotions changed from happiness, to something he didn't recognise, to fear, to anger.

"Get away from me!" yelled Majgen, and pushed herself away from him, crawling while still on her back. She rolled over on her stomach and scurried to the corner of the cage, furthest from Aejoa. There she wrapped herself with a sheet and huddled against the bars of the cage.

With growing concern Aejoa studied her emotions as they changed yet again - to fear.

"Little Human, what is wrong?" he asked, and entered the top of her mind.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD," screamed Majgen, and attempted to raise a mind shield.

'She feels angry and violated now,' noticed Aejoa. 'What is wrong with her? What has happened?'

Majgen Rahan was extremely powerful for a human empath, but by yijejo standards she was weak, and by yijejo standards Aejoa was exceedingly strong. It cost him no effort to prevent her from raising a mind shield.

The human screamed with frustration, as she failed to keep him out of her mind.

"What is wrong?" Aejoa asked again.

"I don't want you in my head, please get out of my head," pleaded Majgen, suddenly feeling terrified and vulnerable instead of angry and violated.

"Did someone hurt you?" he asked, fearing she had been harmed while he slept.

"You are going to hurt me in a moment." Majgen's breathing became heavy. 'It is too hot in here. Why is it so hot in here?'

"What happened while I was sleeping?" asked Aejoa, searching her mind for answers to her strange behaviour.

Majgen didn't try to reply, instead she gripped the bars tight and started sobbing.

'Please just leave me alone,' she thought. 'Tell him what his middle reaching limbs looks like,' another part of her thought.

"No, I won't," she told herself.

'Strong emotional conflict,' thought Aejoa. 'Imprisonment trauma effect?' He had checked her for claustrophobic tendencies before leaving her in the cage, and had found no signs of such risks.

"I don't want to live like this, I don't want this to be my life," wailed Majgen, against the bars.

'Despair,' noted Aejoa. 'Transitionary trauma effect? She has been ripped from her old life and thrown into completely alien surroundings.'

He continued scanning her, his technical skills higher than those of any human empath. Discarding hypotheses as fast as he could think up new ones.

'Maybe she is physically ill?' thought Aejoa, but decided to learn more about her condition before calling the doctor. The physician who looked after Aejoa's physical health on this ship was also experienced in human physiology.

Half an hour later, Majgen calmed. Aejoa was still trying to find the cause of her misery.

"You are trying to find out what is wrong with me, aren't you?" she asked. Emotionally exhausted, she leaned her head against the bars.

"Yes."

"Think you can fix me?" she asked, not sure if she felt a tiny hope or not.

"Should be able to," stated Aejoa. "You were well before I went to sleep. Chronic diseases don't tend to develop over night."

'Should I tell him?' Majgen asked herself.

'She knows what is wrong with her,' realised Aejoa, following her thoughts.

"Tell me what is wrong with you, Little Human."

"I have a fourth degree Brakwan syndrome, Aejoa. I have had it for years," replied Majgen, after the translator had repeated his question in humana.

Admitting it to Aejoa felt bad, admitting it to herself felt worse. Although Aejoa could feel her shame at the admission, he had no clue what a Brakwan syndrome was. It was a human diagnosis.

"What is a Vjaaaawan syndrome?" said Aejoa, physically unable to pronounce Brakwan.

Majgen understood, though. She didn't want to explain, and for now she didn't have to. Aejoa followed the associations his questions had highlighted and gained a preliminary understanding.

'It has something to do with human sexuality,' realised Aejoa, and looked deeper into Majgen's understanding of the syndrome.

'Of course!' thought Aejoa. 'What she is experiencing right now is a psychological withdrawal effect. She has a psychological addiction, and has been deprived of the dependency relieving ingredient while being here.'

"I wish you had told me sooner, Little human. So you wouldn't have had to suffer like you did this night. Don't worry. I will call the doctor, and he will help us find a way to relieve the dependency for now," said Aejoa.

"Please don't," Majgen pleaded despondently, before her mood changed again and she started yelling with fury. "DON'T YOU DARE! I'll..." Majgen went limp as Aejoa mentally pushed her into unconsciousness.

'I'll protect you, Little Human,' he thought, and picked her limp body up, wrapping her sheet around her. Carrying Majgen, Aejoa walked out of the cage. He pressed a servant button, and in moments one of his assigned servants arrived.

Aejoa told him to fetch the doctor.

----=(o)=----

"How can I be of assistance, Winin?" asked the doctor, kneeling to the revered Winin.

"My human is sick," explained Aejoa, not paying heed to the doctor's disappointment at having been called regarding the human yet again.

The doctor did his best to not feel annoyed. The previous day the Winin had called him multiple times, and had interrogated him thoroughly on the physical needs of humans. Eating, sleeping, washing, exercise, preferred lighting, gravitational needs, hormonal treatments, microbiological additive needs, no topic seemed too small for a thorough questioning. The Doctor was starting to feel like a veterinarian.

'How long will the Winin keep convincing himself, that keeping a human as a pet is a viable solution?' the Doctor had wondered.




Majgen Ch. 016



"What is wrong with it, Winin?" asked the Doctor.

"It seems to have a psychological addiction to mating."

'What is that supposed to mean?' The Doctor found himself unable phrase a proper question for elaboration.

Aejoa perceived the Doctor's confusion.

"Yesterday you told me humans are always in heat. That it is natural for them. Well my human has an imbalance regarding that."

"Ou," exclaimed the Doctor. Ou was a sound equivalent to a humans oh or aha, indicating new-found understanding. "That kind of mating."

"Yes, the reproductive interaction part of mating," confirmed Aejoa.

"Wherein lies the imbalance, Winin?" the Doctor hoped it wouldn't take too long to calm the Winin's worries this time.

"My human has been deprived of that kind of interaction since it was taken captive, and now it suffers from a severe withdrawal effect from it," claimed the Winin.

"Withdrawal effect from lack of sex, Winin?" asked the Doctor, wondering how the Winin got that idea.

"Yes, sex, that was the word." Aejoa wasn't used to using biological terms.

"Would you like me to take a look at it?" asked the Doctor. He had heard from veterinarians that pet owners were often calmed simply by showing their pet to the vet.

"I guess that would be best," admitted Aejoa, and opened his limbs a bit so the Doctor could see the human's head, the only part of Majgen that wasn't wrapped in a sheet.

"I am keeping her mind-sedated just now," explained Aejoa. "The withdrawal effect is giving her immense mood-swings, and strong discomfort. I don't want her to suffer needlessly."

"I checked its hormonal balance yesterday, it was fine then. Would you like me to check again, Winin?"

"Yes, do that please, later, just to be sure. But hormones are not what causes this problem. I learned from her that she has had the problem for years, that it is a psychological addiction. A human specific ailment. The translator couldn't find a yijejoan word for it. Normally I would feel confident treating psychological addictions myself, Doctor, but this one is human-specific. She has been receiving regular treatment for years. Apparently humans consider her condition to be chronic," explained Aejoa. "I was hoping that you could help me find a way to continue her treatment, since you know so much about humans in general."

The Doctor found himself to be immensely flattered. 'A Winin just asked for my aid to solve a psychological problem.' Pride rose in the Doctor. Suddenly he didn't mind having been summoned to treat a human. "You said it knows the human term for its diagnosis, Winin?"

"Yes, but I can't pronounce it properly."

"Could you make it tell me the diagnosis, Winin?"

"Yes, I will hypnotise her to do it. I don't want to wake her before we have a solution," explained Aejoa. "She really is not well."

Aejoa focused on Majgen again, and pushed her into a hypnotic state. Using the translator he asked her diagnosis, and the doctor recorded the answer.

"Will you give me some time to read up on the problem, Winin? I am sure I can aid you better if I take a while to study."

"Certainly, Doctor. I will keep her sedated till you get back."

"I can drug it for you, Winin."

"That won't be needed, Doctor. I will take care of her."

----=(o)=----

More than twelve human hours passed before Aejoa released his mind-sedation of Majgen. The doctor had returned after four human hours, with detailed knowledge of what the humans called 'Brakwan syndrome' - including what it meant to have it to the fourth degree. Aejoa had questioned him for about two and a half hours. After the doctor had left, Aejoa had scanned Majgen, and thought, and scanned, and contemplated.

Aejoa was a Winin, someone the yijejo species would call a 'master of the mind'. High-ranked amongst the Eieie -- the yijejoan keepers of tradition, culture, ethics, and the practices of empathism -- Aejoa was well trained and highly educated in matters of the mind. Normally he would never need aid or a second opinion to deal with a psychological issue. His human's problems, however, were alien to him. A yijejo could never suffer from a Brakwan syndrome. Sexuality was an area were humans and yijejos were not similar, neither biologically, nor culturally.

Majgen woke slowly.

"Aejoa," she whispered, sensing him before she was awake.

"Little Human," he said softly.

"Am I dreaming?" asked Majgen.

Both of them were by now used to waiting for the translator. They hardly thought about their pauses waiting for it anymore.

"No, you are waking up," explained Aejoa. "I have kept you sedated."

"You have? I don't remember," she said, and snuggled to his chest.

"You are dazed because of the long sedation. You will wake fully soon," said Aejoa, hurting from the knowledge that her problems would return in moments.

"Why are you sad, Aejoa?" Majgen felt a desire to comfort him.

"I am sad because you are sick, Little Human, and I can't cure you."

"I am sick?" asked Majgen. "Do I get to stay in bed and drink hot sweet drinks then?"

Aejoa sensed childhood memories of such things in her, and understood the misplaced comment.

"I have no hot sweet drinks to offer you, Little Human," he admitted.

"I like to lie in your arms though. Or reaching limbs," said Majgen, still not fully awake, but suddenly she didn't feel good about being in his hold after all. 'He is holding me. I can't get free. I need to escape.'

"Fight the fear, Little Human. Try to stay sensible. Hang on to your sanity a while if you can," Aejoa pleaded. "I want to talk to you."

"Aejoa please don't do it," begged Majgen, remembering why she had feared his morning.

"Try to listen to me, Little Human. Will you please try?"

She felt like struggling to get loose, but fought the urge.

"Yes, I will try, Aejoa."

"I know now what it is you think I will do to you."

Majgen tensed. 'Please don't do it.'

"And I also understand that until I do it to you, you will continue to suffer. Like you did while I slept."

"Don't do it," interrupted Majgen, still fighting to control herself. She felt cold and nauseated.

"I have decided not to do it until you ask me to."

'Until?' she wondered. 'Was that the translator? Doesn't he know I won't ask for it?'

Aejoa followed her thoughts. Although he couldn't catch her wording he understood. "I did mean until and not if, Little Human," he clarified. "I have scanned you thoroughly, and have gained some understanding of this ailment you have. Even though it is completely alien I have begun to understand how it works."

"Do you promise you won't do it unless I ask you to?"

"I promise," said Aejoa. Majgen sensed he was telling the truth. "But it is only a matter of time before you ask, Little Human. The drive within you will grow stronger and stronger until it is satisfied."

"I'm sorry you found out, Aejoa. I don't want to be like this." Feeling ashamed, Majgen started crying.

"You don't need to be ashamed, Little Human. I am a Winin. I understand what can be helped and what cannot. As for your sexuality, you are a human, your biology is different. I have no concept of those cultural things amongst humans that tells you what is right and what is shameful in those regards."

Aejoa rocked her gently in his arms.

"At least I can tell you, that I have seen what it is, and I am not ashamed of you. I do not really know if a human would be, and I do not really care. I am not ashamed, and I wish you weren't either."

"I am ashamed," said Majgen. After Aejoa had promised not to violate her without her permission, it was easier for her to stay fairly calm, 

"I know. You are ashamed of something you cannot help, and cannot change. Because of the shame you fight something which you cannot fight. The shame creates immense conflict within you, Little Human."

"You are a yijejo. You wouldn't know what it's like. Yijejos don't have those urges," said Majgen.

"I don't need to understand the basis of your feelings of shame to understand what the shame does to you, Little Human."

"The treatment, it's horrible, Aejoa. It feels horrible," explained Majgen.

"I know, I've seen it in your memories."

"You viewed my memories of..." She couldn't bring herself to finish, she couldn't bring herself to say 'pleasure chambers'.

"Yes, I did." Aejoa saw the full question in her mind. "And I also viewed your memories of..." he needed a moment to find words for the alien concept. "...forced sex."

He paused.

"I am aware that the treatment was forced and sexual too." Aejoa couldn't find a way to phrase the differences and similarities between the treatment and the other violations. 'I guess it would be best to not try, at least for now,' he thought to himself.

'I'd wish he hadn't seen that,' thought Majgen, and new tears came to her.

The mention of the other violations reminded Aejoa of another topic.

"You should know that yijejos are not susceptible to lose control over emanations. We don't need to focus to not get affected. We just don't get affected like that. So you won't need to fear yijejos attacking you for such reasons."

"Are you sure?" sobbed Majgen.

"Absolutely sure, Little Human." Aejoa couldn't help but smile a little at the human's need for verification. "The only way a yijejo would be affected by emanations, the way you have experienced human empaths to be, would be if he was from an unguarded egg. I promise you won't ever be with such a person. Even though people often accuse others of being from unguarded eggs it is extremely rare for an egg to be unguarded. It really is just a silly insult."

'Unguarded eggs?' Majgen had no clue what Aejoa was talking about.

'She doesn't know what an unguarded egg is,' realised Aejoa, and said, "I'll explain another time."

They went silent. Majgen's mood kept switching, like it had in the cage while Aejoa slept. Aejoa followed her mood swings.

'I hope she will let me help soon,' thought Aejoa after a while.

'NEVER!' Majgen thought, in response to perceiving Aejoa's thought.

'You will eventually,' Aejoa transmitted to her emotionally.

"Put me down," demanded Majgen. "I don't want you to hold me."

Her request hurt his feelings, but Aejoa didn't complain. He placed her on a dining table and seated himself close to her. Majgen curled into a ball inside the oversized sheet, and closed her eyes.

'A part of her still thinks she can control it, that she can live on without satisfying the addiction,' perceived Aejoa. He gave her peace to continue her futile struggle. 'She will ask for my aid when she is ready.'

Over the next many hours, Aejoa was impressed by the will-power displayed by his Little Human. Maybe his first impression of her strength of character, as humans would call it, had been coloured by Majgen's low self-esteem. For hours he never left the top of her mind. He felt her emotional turmoil. He felt the burning need in her body fighting against the denial in her mind.

'I did not expect her to be able to keep fighting the addiction this long. She is a fighter,' Aejoa admitted to himself as he watched Majgen lying completely still on the table while a burning rage coursed through her mind.

She remained still when the rage became despair too, and when the despair became hopelessness, and hopelessness became anger, and anger became fear.

'Would it have been more merciful of me, if I hadn't left the decision up to her?' thought Aejoa. 'Her suffering now, her fighting, it is only delaying the inevitable. It is too late to change my mind now, though. I gave her my word.' The promise of a Winin was not a matter any yijejo would take lightly, especially not the Winin who had given it.

"Don't you have things to do?" asked Majgen, suddenly.

"Not really."

"Think of something to do then. It's getting on my nerves that you are sitting there staring at me," complained Majgen.

For a while Aejoa didn't move. Since he became a Winin only one person had been giving him orders, and that wasn't a tiny creature without rank and status. He didn't correct the Little Human's inappropriate phrasing though, and after a good while he chose to comply with her request.

Calling his assigned servants, the Winin ordered for a massage and food. He had skipped his morning massage because of his human's problems.

The masseur was first to arrive, and the Winin dropped his clothes to submit to the relaxing treatment. The massage table was about fifteen metres from where Majgen was. To Aejoa such a distance was hardly leaving her side. To Majgen such a distance gave an illusion of privacy.

For a while, Aejoa let his worries go when the masseur vibrated the bone-plates under the skin on his lower back.

"That feels wonderful," complimented Aejoa, and began small talking with the masseur.

By the time the masseur started working on loosening Aejoa's neck muscles, a servant arrived with food, and began arranging delicacies and fruits on the dining table. The servant tried to ignore the human lying there, but Majgen clearly felt his animosity towards her.

'It is a soldier,' she realised, as she perceived memories from him. Memories of killing humans in face to face combat, killing or sedating and capturing. 'He wants to kill me. He hates me and all of my kind. He is the kind that killed my parents, a yijejo soldier.'

She raised a mind shield for privacy, as grief and rage burned through her mind.

'Aejoa is a good person. He didn't deserve to die. I am glad I saved him.' There was no doubt in her mind regarding this. 'But how can he protect me against the hatred between our species? My life is over. All I have left to look upon is a lifetime of captivity and shame.' Majgen's body and mind was in turmoil.

'So much the more shame because of this illness. It'd be so much better if I just died now. Right now, before it gets worse.' Majgen opened her eyes. She blinked when she saw an opportunity to die right in front of her eyes, within arms' reach.

'Yijejoan food.' She blinked again. 'Poison!'

Laying perfectly still, she stared at the food closest to her, until the servant was done arranging the table. Then she sat up, holding the sheet around her. The servant moved away from the table, to stand at a wall while waiting for the Winin to be ready to eat. Majgen looked around her, at plates and bowls filled with what was deadly poison to her body. She felt cold and numb.

'The coward's way out,' she thought to herself with Baglian's voice.

'A solution to an unsolvable problem,' she thought to herself with Weissme's voice.

'My solution. My way out,' she thought, and reached out to a plate with small fruits.

The fruit she chose had the shape of a grape, but was a bit larger. It's skin was a bluish shade of black. She pressed it gently.

'It is soft. I should be able to chew it. I should chew it to be sure its juice is released to my body.'

"EEEJOW JUMAN!"

Majgen was startled out of her thoughts by Aejoa yelling his nickname for her - 'Little Human'. A second they stared at each other, both frozen in spot.

"Put it down, Little Human," ordered Aejoa, his voice stern and commanding. Majgen recognised his tone to be that from his memories of what yijejos sounded like when in different moods.

'She is just looking at me,' thought Aejoa, and yelled, "NOW!"

Instead of obeying, Majgen brought her hand to her mouth with a swift movement.

"NO!" yelled Aejoa, and sent a mind shock to her mind while pushing himself off the massage table.

Majgen had estimated that he would be unable to penetrate her mind shield at that distance. She had no understanding of the empathic strength of a yijejo that wasn't drugged. She was unconscious from the blasting pain of the mind shock before Aejoa's feet hit the floor.

Moving with yijejoan speed, Aejoa reached her less than two seconds after blasting her. With frantic speed he pried her mouth open and carefully took out the still intact fruit.

"FETCH THE DOCTOR!" screamed Aejoa.

His body shook so hard he let go off the human to be sure not to inadvertently harm her.

----=(o)=----

"The prisoner is fine, Winin," said the Doctor. "Only trace amounts of chemicals from the food entered its body. Not much more than it is exposed to by breathing. The anti-dotes we supply it through its food ward of such small amounts."

"What would have happened if she had chewed and swallowed the fruit as she had planned?" asked Aejoa.

The Doctor had kept Majgen for less than twenty minutes before bringing her back. Aejoa had trouble adjusting to the fact that the disaster had been averted.

"If that had happened, she might very well have died. Fruit is particularly toxic to humans, Winin."

A shiver travelled through Aejoa's body.

"She did it on purpose," said Aejoa. "She knows our food is toxic to her. It was a suicide attempt." 'She looked straight at me and tried to kill herself,' he remembered, while looking down at Majgen's limp body.

"Call Ejue Yeenje. Tell him I want him present," ordered Aejoa.

"Certainly, Winin." The Doctor bowed and did as asked, using one of the communication panels in the leisure room.

Aejoa remained where he was, right next to the massage table, right next to Majgen. The Doctor had strapped her to a board after examination, and had carried her and the board to the Winin's quarters. Aejoa had not ordered him to unstrap the human, so Majgen was still on the board. Aejoa had not ordered him to wake the human, so Majgen was still sedated. 

The Doctor had fastened the board to the massage table, the only other suitable surface in the room was the dining table. The Doctor had guessed the Winin, Aejoa, would have disapproved if he had used that surface.

After calling Ejue Yeenje, the Doctor moved back to the massage table, awaiting further instructions from the revered Winin. But Aejoa offered none, he just stood still, looking at the unconscious human. He remained silent until Ejue Yeenje arrived.

"Ejue Yeenje, my human tried to commit suicide." Aejoa waved Yeenje to rise from the kneeling greeting.

"Ei, Winin," said Ejue Yeenje - yes, Winin. He had heard. News travelled fast on the ship.

"I will need your assistance to perform the Yuuuai," stated Aejoa. Yuuuai was a yijejo ritual ceremony, where next of kin punished a person who had attempted suicide.

"I will participate as next of kin. You will be the judging party. The Doctor will be witness," explained Aejoa.

Emotions of discomfort rose in both the Doctor and the Ejue upon Aejoa's words.

"Winin..." Ejue Yeenje began a protest, but at first couldn't phrase the rest of his objection.

When the Ejue didn't speak further, the Doctor decided to phrase his own protest.

"I am sorry for your hardships, Winin, and I wish you better for the future, but I refuse to stand witness to a Yuuuai for the human." The Doctor spoke full truth.

"That human saved me," said Aejoa. "Have you no respect for the sacrifice she made for me?"

"I do respect that this particular human is an unusually respectable representative of the species, Winin. But you should not perform a Yuuuai for a human. It wouldn't appreciate the gesture, Winin."

"No one who attempts to commit suicide appreciates the following Yuuuai," said Aejoa. "It is not a pleasant thing to be exposed to, but it is the right thing to do!" Righteous anger flared in him.

"Winin," said Ejue Yeenje, coming to the Doctor's aid. "What the Doctor is trying to say is, the Yuuuai is not for humans, it is not the human way."

Momentarily confused, Aejoa forgot his anger towards the Doctor.

"Then what do humans do in this situation?" asked Aejoa, "if they have no Yuuuai?"




Majgen Ch. 016



"They go straight to treatment of whatever problem caused the suicidal tendencies, Winin."

"But that's barbaric!" exclaimed Aejoa. "Not only that, it's counterproductive. A suicidal person needs to understand emotionally, as well as logically, that suicide is not the right solution. A Yuuuai is a necessity for proper treatment."

"I fully agree, Winin," said Ejue Yeenje.

The Doctor signalled his agreement too, by raising his shoulders three times.

"What we are trying to remind you, Winin," continued the Ejue, "is that humans are not like us. They are not as sophisticated as us." The Ejue's eyes moved to the naked unconscious human. "That one, the female that saved you, Winin. It is an unusually fine version of a human. What it did for you was a true act of bravery and self-sacrifice, Winin."

The Ejue's praise of the human made Aejoa's emotions pound with pride. Aejoa somehow felt that Majgen was his to be proud of. The Ejue's words also made Aejoa ache again, with emotional pain from how he had almost lost his Little Human.

After a small pause Ejue Yeenje continued talking.

"But, you need to remember, Winin, that no matter how selfless and giving that little creature is, it is still a human, an inferior being." Ejue Yeenje turned his eyes back to Aejoa. "You shouldn't treat it like a yijejo, Winin, that would only make it suffer."

"She is not an animal, Ejue," said Aejoa.

"No, Winin," the Doctor jumped in, "the human is not an animal, it is an intelligent being. It is not stupid, merely morally and culturally crippled. By far not an animal, Winin."

Ejue Yeenje signalled agreement, and spoke again.

"I do not consider the human an animal either, Winin, absolutely not. I am just saying, it is not a yijejo, and if you try to treat it like a yijejo all you will bring it will be suffering."

"How do you want me to treat her then, Ejue? If not like us and not like an animal?"

"A human, should be with humans, Winin," replied Ejue Yeenje.

"You know that is not an option, Ejue," said Aejoa, feeling he had cornered the Ejue in that debate.

"I do know that, Winin. Hence, there is only one proper alternative left, and that is a sad one, Winin."

"What do you mean, Ejue?"

"I am saying, that you should allow us to kill the human, Winin. It would be more merciful."

Ejue Yeenje stepped backwards in response to a terrifying rage rising in the Winin. Aejoa refrained from talking, while fighting the urge to physically attack the Ejue.

"Get out," Aejoa ordered once sufficiently calm to speak the command clearly.

Ejue Yeenje obeyed instantly, relieved to escape the Winin's wrath. Being an Eieie on neutral ground, Yeenje was fully under the authority of the Winin.

"Is that your opinion too?" asked Aejoa, turning his attention to the Doctor.

"Yes, Winin."

The Doctor had no need to fear the Winin. The Doctor was in military employ, the Winin was a civilian authority. When the Doctor obeyed the Winin's orders, beyond the reach of the Winin's authority, it was a matter of choosing to comply with the wishes of the revered Winin.

"My human does not have high demands for life, Doctor. I believe I can give her a better life than she had with the humans," explained Aejoa.

"Yet it tried to kill itself, Winin," the Doctor said softly.

"You know about her illness, Doctor. She wouldn't have done it if she hadn't been sick."

"Were you unable to relieve the dependancy, Winin?"

"I was waiting for her to ask me to do it, Doctor."

The Doctor could not think of a constructive response to that choice, and remained quiet. Aejoa, again, turned his eyes to his unconscious human.

"Explain to me how I operate those straps," Aejoa phrased it as an order, but his tone was that of a request. The Doctor explained. Once the explanation was complete, Aejoa told the Doctor to wake the human and leave.

Aejoa had decided how to react to Majgen's suicide attempt.

Majgen awoke with a start. Her subconscious recognised the experience, and for a split-second she thought herself back in the interrogation chamber. She found herself to be strapped down same as she had been there and fear rose in her.

"Aejoa!" she yelled, instinctively crying out for protection.

"I'm right here," said Aejoa.

The Doctor left, as Aejoa had asked, leaving the unlikely pair alone.

"Aejoa, why am I restrained? Where is my sheet?"

"You tried to kill yourself." Anger rose in Aejoa as the memory of that moment, yet again, sprung to the top of his mind.

'He is angry,' perceived Majgen. 'At me!' "Aejoa, what are you going to do?"

His emanations gave her the answer.

"No," she said, and fought the straps. "Aejoa, don't do that. You promised you wouldn't do it unless I asked you to."

"I care about you, Human. I take care of you. That is the nature of our relationship. When you tried to kill yourself, you forfeited your right to hold me to my word on any promise I ever gave to you."

"That's not how it works! A promise is a promise, Aejoa, and you promised!"

For a moment Aejoa stood still, watching his human wriggle on the board, hopelessly fighting the straps. Her upper arms were strapped to the board, as well as her wrists and her legs. She was lying on her back with practically no freedom of movement, her arms a bit from her sides. Her legs stretched and slightly apart.

"It is how it works amongst yijejos, and I am a yijejo, Little Human."

"Aejoa, don't do it. It's wrong," pleaded Majgen. "I beg you not to do it."

'There is nothing more to discuss, at this point,' decided Aejoa.

He turned the translator-function 'humana to yijejoan' off to spare himself from the wording of her pleas. He was angry at his Little Human for exposing him to the fear of losing her, but did not look forward to violating her.

Entering the top of Majgen's mind, Aejoa noticed how her Brakwan syndrome symptoms were strengthened by her situation. 'The straps, the helplessness, the nudity, these are elements of her addiction.'

He studied her emotions, and physical response closely. Aejoa had never mated - he was single. By studying Majgen's memories of past treatment, he had prepared to give relief, to satisfy the addiction. He knew what to do, but would still tread lightly and carefully scan her between and during every move.

'Deprivation of choice, force, adds to it too.'

Majgen's emotions were rampant, almost every emotion from the defineable spectres were present. Observing her mind from the outside, Aejoa had a better understanding of what was going on inside his human than she did. Majgen herself could barely feel her physical response. Feelings of revulsion, fear, sorrow, anger, wrath, even humour, friendliness and hate swam in her mind.

All these emotions drowned her ability to perceive her own sexual arousal. Aejoa could sense it, partially, lust was an emotion he had only ever sensed in her. He had never experienced neither lust, nor sexual arousal himself.

Aejoa raised the massage table till Majgen was at the height of his lowest reaching limbs. He stretched his three upper sets of reaching limbs into the air above her body. His purpose to trigger her imagination, so her mind could guide him to where, and how, to touch.

The floating limbs did trigger her imagination, and more than that it triggered her sexual arousal to a level she couldn't overlook. Just looking at them, knowing that they would soon touch her, made jolts run through her gut straight to her private parts. Shocking through her.

'Grief,' thought Majgen.

Not wanting Aejoa to perceive those physical sensations in her, she desperately tried to raise a mind shield. Being a stronger empath, Aejoa easily kept her mind shield down.

"GET OUT OFF MY HEAD!" she screamed and struggled against his empathic intrusion as well as her straps. Both struggles equally hopeless.

Aejoa slowly lowered one of his middle reaching limbs. Majgen froze and stared at it.

'Tell him where you want him to move it,' a part of her thought. 'Tell him you want him to...'

"NO! No, don't." 

Empathically Majgen tried to prevent Aejoa from following that thought. To no avail. More jolts shot through her, while she helplessly sensed Aejoa tracing the thought to her imagination of what he could do with that reaching limb.

"Don't..." Majgen stopped talking as a mini-orgasm hit her. 'He hasn't even touched me yet!'

She stared at the end of Aejoa's middle limb. She felt certain he would move it where she feared in a moment, and the thought brought more jolts through her body.

Aejoa's middle reaching limb was no more, nor less, phallus-shaped than a human finger. But, its diameter near the end was quite similar to the diameter of the standard size of phallic tools, used in pleasure chambers. Tools which Majgen was very familiar with.

Aejoa's limb reached Majgen's stomach. She jerked in response to the physical contact. 

'Don't stop, Aejoa,' she thought, and meant it. 'I need relief. I...' Majgen clenched her teeth against the unwanted thoughts. 'GRIEF!' "Get that disgusting thing off me. You are making me nauseous," she hissed, and meant that too.

'I really don't want to do this to her,' thought Aejoa, following the conflict in Majgen's mind. 'I don't want to do this.'

In spite of her own emotional turmoil, Majgen caught on to Aejoa's conflict.

" 'Then don't do it, Aejoa,' " she thought and said. " 'Just don't do it.' "

The translator still didn't translate humana to yijejoan, but Aejoa understood from her emotions. It was tempting, to stop, to do nothing, to not harm.

'Like Yuuuai,' thought Aejoa, 'sometimes we have to hurt - to heal.'

He closed his eyes and fought off the temptation.

'I'm sorry,' he felt, and started moving the limb down her stomach.

'I wanted you to be my friend, Aejoa,' thought Majgen. Tears formed in her eyes, were released and rolled to her ears.

All thoughts disappeared, giving way to physical sensation when the alien limb reached its target.

----=(o)=----

It took hours for Aejoa to satisfy Majgen's addiction to a degree that left her symptom-free. Physically and emotionally exhausted, she fell asleep sooner than Aejoa removed the last of the straps which had kept her in place during the ordeal.

He covered her in a fresh sheet and held her sleeping form to his chest.

"Eeejow Juman," he whispered - Little Human. "Rest now, Eeejow Juman."

Seating himself, he decided to contemplate. Aejoa was well-trained in contemplating. Being a Winin he had spent many of the waking hours of his life contemplating. He could have spent a full yijejoan day thinking of human sexuality in general, and his Little Human's sexuality in particular, but Majgen woke after less than two human hours sleep. Her bladder woke her.

Aejoa allowed her privacy after putting her into the empty tub. The previous yijejoan day, Majgen had managed to convince him she would be safe alone with softly streaming water. He still demanded she not attempt to climb into or out of the tub on her own though.

While peeing Majgen did her best to ignore the soreness in her crotch, but when she was done and started washing herself she abandoned her feeble attempts at forgetting.

'He did it. He forced it on me, and my body accepted his touch.' Nauseated, Majgen reached for the soap, which had been specially synthesised for human use, her use.

'Filthy,' she thought, not referring to anything soap could wash away. A whimper escaped her lips, as they contorted into a grimace of shame. Sobs shook her upper body, and she started crying with earnest.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she yelled, upon sensing, rather than hearing, that Aejoa had returned.

Majgen's feelings of nausea rose higher when she felt Aejoa enter the top of her mind.

"Go away. I'm not done cleaning," she stated, fighting an urge to raise her mind shield.

"I have already seen you naked, Little Human," the translator interpreted Aejoa's reply.

"You think I have forgotten that?" asked Majgen. "Do you think I will ever be able to forget that?"

The translator could only translate her words, not convey the venom in her voice, but her emanations made up for that deficiency in the device.

"Why do you detest me?" asked Aejoa.

'He asks because he wants me to think about why,' perceived Majgen. "I detest you, because what you did was despicable, Aejoa," she replied, and started soaping herself up, determined to at least become physically clean.

"More despicable than what you did?"

'What is that supposed to mean?' thought Majgen, but didn't feel like looking for the answer in Aejoa's emanations.

"Leave me alone, Yijejo," she said, hoping to hurt him with the impersonal denomination.

"Answer my question, Human."

"Go kill yourself," retorted Majgen. The old, insolent, human expression had come to her easily, even though she was not accustomed to speaking with such impertinence.

'She spoke an insult,' realised Aejoa, sooner than the translator translated, yet he was not prepared for the translated meaning of the words.

"EEEEEEEE," he screamed with outrage, upon hearing the yijejo meaning of her words.

The sound was deafening, and his anger terrifying. With a scream of her own Majgen sank to her knees and curled into a ball of trembling fear. Aejoa held on to the edge of the tub with every reaching limb, fighting his desire to reach down and grab the tiny creature.

'Don't forget how fragile humans are,' he reminded himself, and closed his eyes waiting for his emotions to calm.

"Is nothing sacred to your kind?" asked Aejoa, after regaining his self-control.

Majgen was too scared to reply.

"Don't be afraid of me. I won't punish you for insulting me," promised Aejoa. "I'm sorry I frightened you, Little Human. I wasn't prepared for such a severe insult."

"Please don't hurt me, Aejoa," pleaded Majgen, unable to grasp that he had just claimed he wouldn't.

"I won't hurt you," reiterated Aejoa. "Please don't be afraid of me. I will try to be more prepared next time you insult me."

He stretched a limb down to caress her back comfortingly, she usually liked that when he held her in his arms. The feeling rising in Majgen, as his limb touched her naked wet back, was not comfort though, so he withdrew again.

"Please understand, Little Human. I am a Winin. I am not used to insults. I..." He trailed off, searching for words. "I have a very low tolerance for insults. Amongst yijejos no one would ever even think of insulting a Winin the way you just did."

"I will try not to do it again," promised Majgen, still afraid.

"I understand you are not a yijejo. I don't expect you to act like a yijejo, Little Human," said Aejoa.

'He considers me and my species inferior,' realised Majgen. 'I knew all along, but somehow I forgot.'

"I will learn to control my temper better, so I don't scare you again," continued Aejoa. "Please understand, Little Human, you are safe with me. I will not harm you. I will protect you."

'Truth. He is sincere,' perceived Majgen. Her fear abated and was replaced with a hollow hopeless feeling. 'He won't cause me pain, but he will force me to live the rest of my life as a pet. An exotic domesticated animal.'

Majgen got to her feet and walked into the streaming water, to wash the soap off.

'And all those years, he will 'treat' my Brakwan syndrome.' In spite of the pleasantly warm water she shivered.

After washing off soap, and drying herself, Majgen covered her body in the sheet again. She had learned to drape the sheet properly over the side of the tub, so it no longer slipped down while she left it. Aejoa picked her up, gently wrapping his limbs around her.

"You are safe with me, Little Human. You protected me when I was in danger, now I will protect you."

Feeling his love for her stung Majgen somewhere deep inside. 'If you love me, why do you insist on hurting me?' she thought, but wouldn't ask.

"Ask with words, Little Human. I won't chide you for it," promised Aejoa.

"I don't want to talk about it," admitted Majgen. "I don't even want to think about it."

"I know," said Aejoa. "I have seen it in your memories. This is the way you have always dealt with the treatment." Carrying her back to the leisure room, he continued, "That was how you dealt with it in the human world, but you are no longer amongst humans. Why do you cling to your feeling of shame here with me? I am not ashamed of your ailment."

'He couldn't understand. He has never felt lust. Yijejos only have sex to reproduce, and he has never done that.'

"Talk to me in words, Little Human. Sometimes things are better said than thought."

"I don't want to talk about it, Aejoa. Please put me down."

"I like holding you close," he said, but regretted when he felt resentment growing in her.

Choosing two chairs, he deposited her in one and seated himself in the other.

"Talk to me. Don't bottle everything inside," pleaded Aejoa. "You can trust me with your words."

"You raped me." The translator used multiple words to translate the alien concept.

"I assure you," replied Aejoa. "My reproductive organ never came near you. It is all the way down here." He pointed at the lower part of his abdomen. "Inactive, hidden behind a virginal membrane. I don't have a mate."

"I know you didn't..." Majgen found herself unable to finish the sentence. After the translator was done working on the unfinished sentence she tried again. "But you violated me. You touched me in sexual ways." Trying to think of words a yijejo would understand she said, "You activated my body for mating, and you are not my mate. You had no right to do it."

"You needed it, Little Human."

"You promised not to do it, Aejoa. You promised."

"You forfeited my promises," stated Aejoa. A pained expression crossed his face.

Although Majgen was beginning to learn to interpret yijejo body-language, his emanations told her far more than his body.

"That makes no sense to me, Aejoa."

"You tried to kill yourself."

"You had no right to prevent me from that either, Aejoa. It's my life. It's all I have, but it's mine."

"Suicide is a sin, Little Human."

"What does sin mean?" asked Majgen, unable to recognise the word, even though it was translated properly to humana.

"That is a question mostly asked by small children," said Aejoa, not sure how to interpret the question from an adult human.

"Well maybe the translator is having a malfunction. I have never heard that word before."

"I will use other words then, Little Human." Aejoa searched his mind for the premade explanations usually given to children. It had been years since he had worked with youngsters, such tasks were usually assigned to low ranking Eieie.

"A sin is something that is wrong beyond being illegal. Something unnaturally wrong. A crime is an offence to the law, a sin is an offense against the natural order of things. Something that is ethically and morally wrong. Like for parents to cast out a child, before it has come of age. Or for adult children to let their parents starve, even if they have the means to support them. Or to commit murder."

"I think I get it," said Majgen. "That would make rape a sin too. Rape is unnatural."

"Yes," confirmed Aejoa. "Albeit that is not a sin which yijejos have to worry about. That cannot be done against a yijejo. Or well, at least not without clinical conditions and drug treatments." He briefly shivered merely thinking of such an abomination. "But even though it would be theoretically possible, it doesn't happen."

"Yet, you raped me," Majgen stated. She perceived, he was protesting before he finished a reply and interrupted him. "You forced sex on me. It was forced sex, even if you didn't perform intercourse. Grief, I don't even know if intercourse is possible between our species. But what you did to me was sexual, and it was forced. You had no right to do it."




Majgen Ch. 016



"You were sick. You even tried to kill yourself. I had to do something," Aejoa defended himself. Her accusation hurt him, but her feelings of revulsion towards him hurt more.

"You could have let me die, Aejoa. You could have let me end my misery."

"I am going to make your life better, Little Human. You weren't happy with the humans. You felt trapped, captive. I am a wealthy man. My home is large. I have my own gardens. Lots of space where you can move freely."

"Did the doctor tell you what amount of space would be appropriate for a human pet? Was he specific on what amount of running space, sleeping space, and eating space a human pet needs to be well taken care of?" asked Majgen, anger flowed through her.

Before the translator was done, she spoke on, keeping her voice low so Aejoa would be able to hear the translation of her first sentences.

"It is true I lived a life of captivity amongst the humans, but none of them held me captive for their own sake."

Aejoa listened carefully to every word the translator offered, before replying, "I am not keeping you captive for my own sake, Little Human. I am protecting you."

"Do you really believe that, Aejoa. Do you really think you are exposing me to a lifetime imprisonment for my sake?" she asked, analysing his emotions closely.

"I am indebted to you, Little Human. I will repay my debt by protecting you."

"And who will protect me from you, Winin?"

"I won't harm you."

"You already did, and you plan to do again. And again."

"It's the only way, Little Human."

"No."

"Yes."

"No, Aejoa, it's not the only way," Majgen reminded him. "You could let me die."

"No!"

"Even those of your own kind considers it best, Aejoa."

"They don't know you, Little Human."

"Do you?"

"They don't care about you," Aejoa blurted out.

"True. Do you?"

"Why do you ask that, Little Human? You can feel I care."

"To me, Aejoa," Majgen began, "it seems you are afraid of living without me."

"I..." Aejoa halted. 'She is right.'

"To me," Majgen continued, "it seems you are so terrified of losing me, that you are willing to harm me - to keep me."

"I don't want to hurt you, Human."

"Are you willing to endure watching my love for you change to hatred, just to keep me close, Aejoa?"

"It is not about me," Aejoa again tried to postulate, but even he could feel it was not entirely true.

"It is about you, Aejoa. Your needs. You want me in your life." Majgen moved her gaze from him, and her eyes became vacant. Her focus was on her thoughts not her surroundings. "I just want my suffering to end. I'd prefer if my life ended before such a time that I should come to regret sacrificing myself for your sake."

"You sacrificed yourself to torture and death for me once, can't you sacrifice yourself to life imprisonment for me?" asked Aejoa, without thinking.

"What?" Majgen was baffled. "Did you really ask me to sacrifice myself for you again?" 'He did, but he didn't realise it consciously until I asked.'

"I chose my words badly," admitted Aejoa, and raised his mind shield to contemplate in private. 'It was just bad word choice, wasn't it? I wouldn't expect her to do more for me, would I? Of course not.' 

"Do you really think a mind shield will keep your thoughts from me, Aejoa?" said Majgen. Bitterness churned in her stomach from sensing Aejoa's continued attempts to convince himself his actions were righteous.

"That was a strange question to ask a Winin, Little Human," replied Aejoa. "Of course I am aware that a certain part of my emotions transmit through my emanations."

"You don't realise I can sense more than that?"

"What do you mean?"

'He really didn't realise yet,' thought Majgen, it was clear in his emanations. 'He scanned me so many times, I was sure he knew.'

"I am not a normal empath, Aejoa. You can have no privacy around me."

"What do you mean?"

"That's why I was at your interrogation in the first place, Aejoa. I can sense more than others from emanations," explained Majgen. "This very moment, I can sense your attempts to convince yourself, that keeping me alive against my will is right. Even though you do understand it is wrong and selfish of you."

Majgen's anger and bitterness rose while she followed Aejoa's emotions, as her words were translated.

"Stop lying to yourself! You know forced sex is wrong. You know it. And you also know it is wrong to keep a human as a pet."

'Keeping her as a pet would only be a facade. In reality she would be a friend living with me,' thought Aejoa.

"Wrong," said Majgen, in response to his unspoken thought. "I wouldn't be staying at your house as a friend. You abuse me. You show no respect for me. You degrade me and want to control me. That is not how friends treat friends."

'She is right,' realised Aejoa. Then denied, 'No, she isn't. She doesn't understand.'

"Stop lying to yourself!"

'How could she reply to a thought hidden behind a mind shield?' thought Aejoa, 'Intuition? Is she very good at guessing?'

"I follow your thoughts as easily as if I... " Majgen stopped talking, as Aejoa entered her mind.

'Get out!' she thought, her emotion unmistakable.

"I won't take long," promised Aejoa, his own mind shield still raised.

'Suit yourself, Sewage Slime Licker,' thought Majgen, and searched for the part of his emanations that would show her what he was looking at in her mind.

"Have a look in the mirror, Winin." Majgen had found the correct stream of emanations.

Majgen sensed Aejoa scanning Majgen for what she had sensed the last few minutes, while Aejoa sensed Majgen sensing Aejoa sensing what she had sensed the last few minutes and sensed Majgen sensing Aejoa sensing, last minutes and now, Majgen perceiving Aejoa sensing that now Majgen was sensing Aejoa sensing what Majgen was sensing, and...

"Iiiiiii," whined Aejoa, and left Majgen's mind.

Majgen raised her mind shield and laid down on the yijejo seating. Realising she wouldn't gain control of the nausea in time, she crawled to the edge and vomited over the side. The gooey substance of stomach acid, and a few not yet digested gelatinous remains of synthesised food, made a splonching sound when it hit the floor two metres down. The sight and sound triggered a second round of regurgitation reflexes and Majgen upped the rest of her stomach content.

While Majgen's body dealt with her nausea by emptying her stomach, Aejoa stumbled to the bathroom to pour cold water over his head.

After spitting to the floor, multiple times, ridding her mouth of the taste of vomit as best she could, Majgen rolled to her back on the yijejoan seat. She closed her eyes, but opened them almost instantly. When her eyes were closed, it felt like the seat was swaying below her.

Within moments Aejoa came back, still walking unsteadily.

"How did you do that?" he asked, still too nauseous to even think of finding the answer in her mind.

"I told you already, Aejoa. I'm not a normal empath."

Supporting himself against a chair, Aejoa tried to clear his thoughts.

"You are a weak empath," he thought out loud.

"I don't have the brutal empathic force which you do, but I can still perceive more than you can."

"That's not possible," claimed Aejoa. "I am a Winin, revered amongst the Eieie. You are..." Aejoa didn't finish, but even through her own nausea Majgen caught his thought.

"Inferior. Go ahead, Aejoa. You believe it. Why not say it out loud and proud? You think I am inferior to you. You consider all of my kind inferior to you." Tears formed in her eyes. "I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you speak full truth. Tell me that I am inferior to you, that all humans are."

"You are..." 'What is she?' "We are different."

"Admit it, Aejoa. You can't hide it from me anyhow. Why try?" Majgen's nausea was dissipating. She sensed more clearly every second passing.

"How did you create a mirror effect while my mind shield was raised, Little Human?"

"Your emanations. I caught the real time memory stream. Saw your memory of the present while it was being made."

"I don't understand what you are saying, Little Human. I am still affected by the mirror effect. I feel horrible."

"May I have some water please?" asked Majgen, thinking, 'Best to ask before he remembers I did this to him on purpose.'

"Of course," replied Aejoa.

With a staggering walk he fetched the purified water, which the doctor had supplied for his human. While Majgen rinsed her mouth, and quenched her thirst, Aejoa seated himself.

'The answers can wait till my mind is clear,' he thought.

"The answers you want can wait," said Majgen. "But I still want you to admit how you truly feel about humans, and me. And that you don't need a clear head for, Winin."

"I prefer when you call me Aejoa," he corrected her.

"That's only because it helps you retain the illusion that we are friends, Winin."

'Full truth. She believes her own words. Why does she think of it that way?' "You care for me and I care for you, Little Human. We are friends."

"We were friends, or we could have been friends. Now we are captor and captive. Empty words won't change that, Winin," said Majgen, and thought, 'I sacrificed my life for him. I refuse to cower in fear for him.'

"How did you create the mirror effect, Little human?"

"I can sense your every emotion right now, Winin," stated Majgen, "and right now, you are more worried about me claiming we aren't friends, than you are curious how I can sense things I shouldn't be able to."

Majgen drank another mouthful of pure water, before continuing, "I can also sense, why you chose to ask about the mirror effect. You asked about that to distract me from my thoughts of not being your friend."

'Full truth again,' perceived Aejoa, and thought. 'But she is wrong.'

"Are you sure, Winin? Are you sure I am wrong?"

"How do you do that?" counter-asked Aejoa.

"The big question to ask yourself right now, Winin, is: Why do you not really care about the answer to the question you just asked?"

'Because I care more about her friendship than about an empathic mystery,' realised Aejoa.

"Exactly, Winin. The thought of friendship with me is important to you," said Majgen, yet again demonstrating she could follow his thoughts. "Listen very carefully to me now, Winin. If you can't treat me like a friend, your friendship is worth less than nothing to me."

'Please don't say that,' thought Aejoa. The human's words cut through his mind, leaving bleeding pain behind.

"If you stop pretending we are friends, Winin, then maybe I will stop pointing out that we aren't." Majgen mercilessly pushed her point.

"Do you consider me your enemy?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure," admitted Majgen, and noticed those words hurt Aejoa almost as much as he had imagined a confirmation would.

"Do you understand that I never meant to hurt you, Little Human?"

"Yes," replied Majgen. "But do you understand that you are hurting me?"

"Ei," said Aejoa. "Yes," the translator translated.

"You cannot force me to keep loving you, Aejoa."

Her words brought him both joy and suffering at once.

'She still loves me,' warmth and joy. 'But she is right,' cold despair. 'No matter what I do, I am losing her. If I let her die, she will be gone forever. If I force her to live and keep forcing the treatment on her, she will come to hate me.'

"I feel your pain, Aejoa. I too am sorry we cannot be friends. That I cannot live with you as a friend. That we cannot happily grow old together."

"The prospect of having you around, for the rest of my life, made me so happy, Little Human." Aejoa was crying, his whole body shivered with the sadness he felt.

"Me too, Aejoa, but our hopes were in vain. Please let me leave life while I still have some dignity left in me."

"I will," he said, pushing the promise past his pain. "The doctor can do it painlessly. He told me he would if I asked him to."

"I would prefer it to be painless," agreed Majgen.

"Can we wait please? Till you get sick again?" asked Aejoa. "We can have the rest of the day at least, before it gets bad, maybe some of the night too." Aejoa was referring to a yijejoan day. Amongst humans Majgen's treatment had been four days apart, which equalled the passing of the waking hours in a yijejoan day.

"If you promise you will not back out when the time comes, if you promise to let me die when I ask it, then we can wait till I ask it, Aejoa."

"I promise, Little Human."

"Will you be my friend until then, Aejoa?" Majgen reached her arms out in his direction, like a human toddler would when asking to be held. With so little time left, she wouldn't waste it on holding on to a grudge.

Instead of talking, Aejoa hurried to her and picked her up to hold her close. Once again, Aejoa and Majgen shared minds, desperate for the intimacy of sharing emotions.

One thought and emotion they shared more tenderly than any others, over and over, in between the sorrow.

' 'I love you, Friend,' '

----=(o)=----

"Go to bed, Aejoa, you are tired," said Majgen. She herself had just woken. "It is night time in your day cycle now."

"I won't go to bed. You might not be here when I wake up." Aejoa's sorrow was evident in his emotions.

'I'd wish this didn't hurt you so much,' thought and felt Majgen.

'I'd wish you would stay with me,' thought and felt Aejoa.

"I don't feel bad yet," said Majgen.

'We both know it will come,' thought Aejoa. 'The first signs are already rising in her semi-conscious mind.'

"Let's not think of it, Aejoa. Let's watch another dance show instead."

"If you desire. The ship has come so close to home I can buy one of my favourites from a broadcasting service," said Aejoa. 'Tomorrow evening I will be home, but she won't last that long.' The concept of returning to the safety of his home alone made him feel empty.

The dance show Aejoa purchased was a three hour performance. Aejoa fell asleep in the comfortable seating less than one hour into the show.

'Sleep well, my friend,' thought Majgen, and rested her head on his chest.

She had water and synthesised human food within reach, and decided to relieve herself in a bowl when needed rather than wake the sleeping yijejo.

'I will miss you, Aejoa. If it is possible to miss people when dead.'

Majgen had a long time yet to think about life and death, and what was liveable and what was not. Only five human days had passed since Aejoa had abused her - treated her - she still felt clearheaded.

'Not too long back, my biggest hope of all was to get a friend. Now that I finally have one, I've convinced him to let me kill myself,' thought Majgen. 'Femaron Baglian would consider it cowardice. Would he be right?'

She tried to imagine what Baglian would have said.

'Student Majgen is such a prude that she would rather die than let a friend relieve her Brakwan symptoms,' she imagined Baglian saying to his old friend Loke.

'Ah,' Majgen imagined Loke replying, 'but if you gave her a choice between drinking ten bottles of Bonka, or allowing her pal to relieve her symptoms, what would she choose then?'

'The Bonka, without a doubt.'

'She really must be a prude then.'

Majgen smiled bitterly, at the imagined conversation.

'I really am a prude aren't I?' she asked herself, but didn't reply. Instead her thoughts trailed off to other matters.

'Did you make it out alive, Femaron Baglian? I really hope you did, my genius, dutiful and utterly arrogant teacher.'

Majgen didn't really have loved ones to worry about, or miss, back in the human world.

----=(o)=----

"Wake up. Wake up, Aejoa."

His horror dissipated, as he emerged from the dream.

"Eeejow Juman," - Little Human, he said, opening his eyes Aejoa reached around Majgen to hug her. "I think I fell asleep, Little Human."

"You were having a nightmare."

"Ei," he admitted. 'I shouldn't have fallen asleep, I don't want to miss a waking moment of the little time we have left together.' Opening his senses, Aejoa hugged his human with mind as well as limbs. 'She is worse. How long have I been sleeping.' Anguish swept through him as he glanced at a clock and saw the time. 'A miui, I slept a full miui.'

Miui, a yijejoan time measurement, one yijejoan day cycle consisted of ten miui. Measured by human standards, a miui was almost twenty hours.

"Why did you let me sleep so long, Little Human?"

"I don't like to feel you suffer, Aejoa, you were so tired."

'I don't like losing time with you,' thought Aejoa, but didn't complain further. He didn't want to spend their last few miui together fighting over who should have done what.

"That is a wise approach, Aejoa. Let's stick to it and not fight."

Majgen cuddled in his reaching limbs, enjoying the warmth of his body. She had napped on his chest several times while he slept.

"Would you like to see the rest of the dance show now, Aejoa? You fell asleep in the middle of it."

"No," he said. 'I just want to be with you in the little time we have left before you start losing your senses.'

"Since my parents died, no one has ever truly desired my company. Until you."

"You have been very lonely," Aejoa stated.

"Yes, very," Majgen admitted.

Out of words, Aejoa remained silent, just sensing the emotions of the human in his hold. Majgen remained silent too, enjoying Aejoa's presence and the absence of loneliness. 

Sometimes he caressed her, gently, friendly and without lust. Like any other adult unmated yijejo, Aejoa received hormonal treatment to keep his mating response inactive until such a day might come that he should get a mate.

The natural hormonal response of an unmated male yijejo to the pheromones of a yijejo female in heat often induced a state of primal lust in the male. A primitive state that could easily evolve to primal rage if too many competing males were present. During such a primal lust response the male would release pheromones too, causing a natural hormonal response in the female, often inducing a primal state in her too.

By nature, yijejos copulated only for reproduction, and by nature copulation led to permanent mating. Biological love, from the side of both the male and the female. From the side of the male, also sexual tuning. A yijejo male who had once had sexual intercourse with one female could biologically never have sex with another female.

Amongst yijejos the ratio between female and male was one to nine. In ancient days, before the yijejos had an evolved civilisation, most females had around nine mates, but that was many millenias prior to Majgen's birth. At Majgen's time most yijejo females only gathered three or four mates, hence many males spent their whole life as bachelors.

Thoughts of yijejoan mating were not on Aejoa's mind, however, nor on Majgen's. But sexual feelings and thoughts regularly coursed through Majgen, her current emanations would have had a quite severe effect on an unaware human empath, if one had been near.

'Poor Little thing,' thought Aejoa, and petted her comfortingly yet again. Accidentally, he brushed one of her nipples through the sheet. Her whole body jerked in response.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Aejoa lifted all his limbs off her to demonstrate his intent not to abuse her again.

'I know,' thought and felt Majgen.

Knowing Aejoa would catch on to that empathically she didn't speak it out loud. Instead she bit her teeth together to fight the sweep of lust his unintentional touch had woken. Losing the fight against lust she writhed on his chest, missing the comfort of his limbs, yet dreading his touch.




Majgen Ch. 017



Warning! Work in progress, the full book-series is not yet finished (unless my profile states otherwise). Agonising waits in between chapters is a very real risk!

Copyright of Nanna Marker

*

----=(Home)=----

"Little Human, wake up."

"What is it?" mumbled Majgen, not at all in the mood to wake up.

"I need to tell you something." Aejoa picked her half-sleeping body up.

"I'm tired," protested Majgen, and snuggled against him, preparing to sneak into another nap against his chest.

Aejoa couldn't help but laugh at that.

'Sometimes she is as cute as a baby.' His body shook with giggles. Yijejoan laughter in itself was soundless, though if talking while laughing the difference was quite audible.

"Would you wake faster if I dumped you in a tub full of cold water?" he asked.

'He wouldn't do that,' perceived Majgen, and mumbled, "What is it you want to tell me?"

Aejoa became serious again. "We are very close to my home now, Little Human." 'Almost home,' the thought made him so jubilant that remaining serious was difficult. His Little Human had allowed him to relieve her syndroms, and was getting more accustomed to it every time. 'We are coming home, together.'

"In less than an hour this ship arrives at Naonun, where I live. The soldiers will be received, and celebrated, as heroes. Like I told you, I will not be expected to participate in those celebrations so soon after my ordeal. But I won't be able to go straight to my home with you, as we had planned."

"Where are we going then?" asked Majgen. Still drowsy she waited for his words to translate. Her senses were as sleepy as the rest of her.

"You will go to my home in your night-cage, to wait for me there, Little Human. I need to go to the Ojewa's residency on Naonun. He has requested my presence."

'And an Ojewa's request to a Winin is an order,' understood Majgen. "How long must I be alone at your home, Aejoa?"

"You won't be completely alone, Little Human. My servants will provide for you. They are very loyal and reliable. You need not worry; I trust them."

'Well, I am worried,' thought Majgen. 'I am one of the enemy, Aejoa. Sometimes you forget how much our two species hate each other.'

"Do not worry, Little Human. Even if they were not reliable, which they are, they are all bound by an old fashioned contract. They wouldn't dare disobey me and harm you."

"Old fashioned?" inquired Majgen.

"What do you mean with old fashioned?" asked Aejoa.

"You said old fashioned contract," explained Majgen.

"No, I said old fashioned contract," the translator translated.

"I think the translator has issues, Aejoa. It just said old fashioned contract again."

Aejoa looked at the device and spoke a single yijejo word

"Old fashioned," the translator translated.

"It did it again," said Majgen.

"I will use other words then," promised Aejoa, and rephrased, "My servants are hired by a contract type which allows me to beat them if they are disobedient or rude in any way."

"You beat your servants?" Majgen frowned. 'Doesn't sound like Aejoa to beat servants.'

"No, I've never beaten any of my servants. That type of contract is just tradition when a high-ranking Eieie hires aid," he explained. With pride he added, "There are many traditions amongst high ranking Eieie."

'Is that a good thing?' wondered Majgen, reminded of the various mentarion traditions.

All in all, she wasn't very fond of traditions at this time in her life.

"Cheer up, Little Human. I've had human toilet facilities installed in my home while we have been travelling. When we arrive you no longer need to relieve yourself in a tub." Aejoa knew she hated doing that, and he knew he hated leaving her alone in yijejo size sanitary facilities.

"I do look forward to that," admitted Majgen.

"And I've had human size showers and tubs installed too."

"Human tubs, or human foot-baths?" teased Majgen, reminding Aejoa of his immense fear that she might drown in a tub.

"Human tub size, I swear, Little Human, it's true."

"I look forward to that too," said Majgen with a smile.

"Even more luxury awaits us."

"Really?" asked Majgen, and perceived what he meant sooner than he finished talking, but she still listened politely to the translator.

"As soon as I join you at my home, I will order tailors. Glamorous clothes for both of us."

"I look forward to no longer hauling these oversized sheets around," said Majgen. 'He knows I look forward to all these things, but it makes him happy to hear me say it.'

"The weather is good today, sunshine, very few clouds. I can't wait to see the sky again," said Aejoa with longing in his voice and emotions.

"I think the translator is broken, Aejoa. The last translation was complete gibberish."

"Maybe I should ask for a new one," said Aejoa. "Did that translate?"

"Yes, perfectly."

"Strange."

The Winin - Aejoa - was supplied with a new hand-held translator. The ship mechanics found no malfunctions in the old one though.

----=(o)=----

"Be careful, Mooje. Don't bump it so much. There is a living thing inside," cautioned First Servant Inee.

"I am being careful, Inee," protested Servant Mooje.

"You are holding your corner of the cage too far from your body, Mooje," complained First Servant Inee. "You can't hold it steady like that."

"There are only bars under the covering cloth. The thing could reach out and touch me! There is no way I will hold my corner close to my body," stated Servant Mooje.

"It's just one human, Mooje. It's much smaller than us," said Servant Ene. "It's more afraid of us than we are of it."

"Seems to me that Mooje is more afraid of it than it is of him," said Low-Servant Niinon, laughter obvious in his voice.

"Careful around this corner," cautioned First Servant Inee.

All four of them went quiet focusing on the task of moving the cage, which contained the Winin's new pet, safely around the corner.

"Seriously, Mooje, is there anything you aren't afraid of?" Servant Ene asked once they were clear of the corner. "So far I've seen you fear bugs, and weed-critters, and now you are afraid of a tiny unarmed human."

"You can't know it's unarmed. There is a cover on the cage," explained Mooje, defensively.

"Of course it's unarmed," interfered First Servant Inee. "The Winin wouldn't have provided it with a weapon."

"Well, either way it just creeps me out. Humans are disgusting. Didn't any of you see that movie 'Carrying'?" asked Mooje.

"I did," admitted Low-servant Niinon. "Good movie too, scary. Utterly fictional, though. A human can't eat a yijejo. If they try they die from intoxication."

"Well I just don't want this human to 'try' on me," said Mooje.

The other three all burst into silent yijejo laughter at that remark, to such a degree that Majgen could feel the vibrations through the bottom of the cage.

"Aren't any of you bothered by those creepy sounds coming from inside the cage?" asked Mooje.

'Those creepy sounds' was the translator translating everything they said to Humana. Majgen listened quietly from inside the cage, holding the translating device. She also analysed their emanations. She had been doing that since the soldiers had dropped her cage off at Aejoa's home.

'None of them are soldiers. None of them has ever had anything to do with the war,' she understood. 'They all think it is very strange that the Winin has brought a human pet home, but none of them would voice that. They respect Aejoa too much to ever voice a possible disagreement with his actions.'

Mooje was teased by the other three servants till the cage reached the appropriate room and was carefully set onto the floor.

'They look as much forward to Aejoa's homecoming as I do,' realised Majgen. 'They truly care for his well-being. They were devastated when he was captured.'

"I guess we should take the cloth off now that the cage is in position," said First Servant Inee, and took hold of the cloth pulling it off slowly.

Sitting on the floor in the cage, covered in a sheet, Majgen remained absolutely still. Her head was bowed. Her eyes absently focused on the translator. Through the servants' emanations she saw herself from four different angles.

'Colours look so strange through yijejo eyes. It's different than seeing it through another human's eyes.'

"It doesn't look as creepy as I thought it would," said Servant Mooje, scrutinising the appearance of the small alien. "It actually looks kind of cute."

"So small and fragile," Low-Servant Niinon added. "Are we really at war with those?"

'Yes our species are at war,' Majgen thought to herself. 'Your kind killed my parents.'

Somehow, the lack of hostility in these yijejo strangers was harder to handle than the contained hatred she had expected. Majgen laid down and hid herself under sheets. She missed Aejoa's comforting voice, and she missed her long dead parents.

"It feels such profound sadness," said Mooje, sympathy in his emotions.

"It is all alone and very far from home," commented Inee. "Let's give it some peace and quiet while it settles in its new surroundings. Who wants to guard it first?"

"I'll take that chore if you don't mind, Inee," said Mooje. "I want to get used to the creature before the Winin comes home."

----=(o)=----

'Aejoa is here,' thought Majgen, and opened her eyes. "Aejoa!" she greeted, while getting on her feet. Covered in an oversized sheet she trussed to the cage's gate. Aejoa opened it for her and lifted her up as soon as she came out.

"Little Human," he hummed happily. "I hope you haven't been too bored?"

"It wasn't bad," she admitted.

She had spent the hours absorbed in Mooje's emanations, purposefully forgetting her own situation. While Mooje had guarded her - unaware of her special abilities, she had relived many parts of his life.

"Let's go out in the garden. The weather is wonderful," said Aejoa. "The sun is shining and the sky is blue."

"The translator is feeding me gibberish again, Aejoa," complained Majgen.

"Which part couldn't it translate?" he asked.

"You said, 'let's go out in the garden.' That made sense. But everything after that was nonsense.

"The weather is good," tried Aejoa. "The weather is good," the translator spoke.

"You are saying something is good," said Majgen, "but I don't know what thing it is that is good. Maybe if you use other words."

"It is not raining and the temperature is good," attempted Aejoa.

"It is your garden," said Majgen with a smile. "When you want to relax in the garden you can just turn the watering off. Can't you, Aejoa?"

"I can't turn off the rain, Little Human," he laughed.

"Why not?" asked Majgen.

Aejoa's laughter dissipated as he perceived her question was sincere.

"My garden is outside, Little Human. It is not a green-house."

"A green house? What's a green-house?"

"A green-house is a garden confined by see-through walls, so the sunlight can enter, but rain, wind and cold can't."

"You are confusing me, Aejoa, why would anyone expose their plants to sun-light? If you want to kill plants there are easier ways."

"May I look in your mind a moment, Little Human?" Aejoa had learned to respectfully ask, and be welcomed, rather than push in unwanted.

"Ok." Majgen shut her sensitivity down a bit to avoid mirror effects.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, when he had been quiet a bit.

"Sunlight," said Aejoa.

The word combination made Majgen think of outer space and science.

"Clouds," said Aejoa.

Majgen thought of emotions clouding and changing, facial expressions going dim or angry, everything but literal clouds.

"Rain," said Aejoa.

The human in his arms thought of watering mechanisms for parks, and showers, and confetti raining down on a party.

"Have you never been outside?" asked Aejoa.

"Of course I have," said Majgen, and thought of streets and parks of habitats and super cities.

"Have you never seen a sky?"

"What is that?" asked Majgen.

"Do you know what an atmosphere is?" asked Aejoa.

"Yes, it is when a planet is covered by gases."

"Breathable atmosphere?"

"Earth had that once," said Majgen. "Long before it was destroyed."

'She has never been outside.'

"Naonun has a breathable atmosphere, Little Human," he said cautiously, and wondered, 'Will she fear the open sky?'

"Oh, that's interesting," said Majgen, wondering what significance that would have on a super-city. "Is that resource somehow taken advantage of in the air circulation system?"

"I don't know how to say it, Little Human," admitted Aejoa, retracting to the top of her mind.

"Let me look into your mind for it then," said Majgen, and hesitated no further when she sensed Aejoa's emotional permission.

'Blue sky!' she saw in his mind. 'Now I understand. Atmosphere, sky, outside, it all makes sense now. It is beautiful,' she noted to herself. 'Strange how I never noticed before in his memories. He takes it for granted. I never noticed it was something other than a painted ceiling, never saw his memories of appraising the view before.'

'She understands,' perceived Aejoa. "Do you want so see it with your own eyes?"

"Ei," said Majgen, speaking the yijejo word for yes. She was making a habit of trying to memorise more yijejo words.

"I will hold on to you, Little Human. You are safe with me," Aejoa reminded her as he left the room carrying her.

Twice more, he repeated those words before they reached a door leading to his garden.

"Are you ready?" he asked before stepping outside.

"Ei," said Majgen with a smile. 'Why is he so worried, it is beautiful, not terrifying. I saw that in his memories,' she thought, while Aejoa took her outside.

Exposed to the sunlight, Majgen instinctively closed her eyes.

"It is very bright," she apologised. "Give me a moment to adjust, please."

"All the time you need, Little Human. We have years ahead of us."

Majgen pressed her face against his chest, to let his body shield her from the light. Carefully she opened her eyes, and looked at the fabric of his cloth.

"Let me climb up your chest a bit, Aejoa," she requested. He shifted his hold to accommodate her.

Within Aejoa's hold Majgen got to her knees. Cautiously she climbed up his chest, supporting herself on his reaching limbs, till she was able to peak over his shoulder. Very slowly she raised her head to see his home over his shoulder, allowing more view and more light to reach her eyes.

Next she saw blue, just above his ground floored house. Raising her head further she saw more blue, and more.

'Endless blue, true blue,' she thought and raised her head till she looked straight up. 'BEAUTIFUL!' To not fall up into infinity, she instinctively clutched Aejoa's shoulders tight and reached for his mind to hug that too. 'Look Aejoa! See what I see.'

'I see what you see,' felt Aejoa, and did.

'It is the most beautiful thing I ever saw,' felt and thought Majgen. Below her, her knees gave in, unable to carry her weight in the face of this magnificent glory. But she didn't fall; Aejoa held her close.

" 'Magnificent,' " whispered and thought Majgen.

" 'Yes,' " seconded Aejoa.

Majgen kept staring into the sky till her neck started complaining about the awkward angle, then she lowered her eyes to Aejoa's face next to her.

"Thank you," she said, and thought, 'This is a moment of perfect happiness, Aejoa. Thank you so much for sharing it with me.'

"Thank you too for sharing it with me, My Friend," said Aejoa.

They remained in the garden for hours. Sometimes they talked, but mostly Majgen was awed to silence by the open air above. Later, Aejoa took her to the outskirts of his gardens, and let her see the plains bordering his home, which led into cultivated nature, which yet again in the distance led to uncultivated nature.

'I can see so far,' thought Majgen. 'I never realised I could see so far. I never knew eyes were meant to see so far.'

"When evening comes, I will show you the sun-set, Little Human," promised Aejoa. "It is beautiful from here."

"As beautiful as the sky?" asked Majgen.

"You ask more than I can answer," said Aejoa with laughter in his voice. "But it makes the sky beautiful in other ways."

"Then I look forward to seeing it."

----=(o)=----

"The tailors have arrived, Winin," announced First Servant Inee.

"Good," declared Aejoa. "Have them set up their equipment in the white leisure room."

First servant Inee bent his knees, performing a partial kneel, before leaving to do as ordered. Majgen studied his movements attentively, from her position on the seating of a yijejo chair.

'There truly is a lot of ceremony in Aejoa's life,' she thought. 'I would hate for everyone to always bow and kneel to me, but Aejoa likes it. He doesn't think about it though, it is natural to him, second nature after years of being a Winin. The Winin of Naonun.'

"Now, Little Human," said Aejoa, "I hope you will forgive me for dragging you out of the sun-light. I promise it will only be for a little while."

"If it is only for a little while, I will forgive you," said Majgen, smiling.

After Aejoa had shown her his garden, she hadn't wanted to be anywhere else. She liked the insides of Aejoa's home too, but -- apart from a brief tour -- she, so far, only went inside to use the sanitary facilities. A bit more than a full human day had passed since she had first seen the sky, and she still couldn't get enough of it.

The shivers of Aejoa's laughter tickled when he picked her up, causing her to giggle too.

'You make me feel like a child again, Aejoa,' she thought, not aiming to transmit the emotion. 'Sometimes that doesn't feel like a bad thing.' Catching one more glimpse of the sky while Aejoa carried her inside, Majgen let her thoughts strafe to the past, 'If only I could show this blue to Femaron Baglian. He would be able to develop a most therapeutically pleasant mind sedation from it.'

The shadowy feeling of being inside enveloped her as Aejoa carried her through the corridors of his home.

'Did you make it out alive, Femaron Baglian?'

----=(o)=----

"Hiro, are you home?" called Loke, sounding somewhat worried as he walked into Baglian's Drom apartment. "You left the door unlocked. If I don't see at least five nude ladies in here with you I'll be mighty upset about such negligence!" Loke joked, to chase away his feelings of worry. 'Hiro never forgets details like locking his door.'

His worried feeling upon finding the door unlocked was not enough to prepare him for the sight and smells that met him when he entered Baglian's living-room.

"Grief," whispered Loke, as his eyes took in the unexpected scenery.

Bottles everywhere, most of them opened, a scattered mess of empty and almost empty bottles. Most of them were Bonka beer bottles, but there seemed to be representatives from all alcoholic families present. The stench of spilled and vaporising alcohol was overwhelming.

A light snore, as well as the emanations of a sleeping drunk person indicated Baglian's position in the mayhem. He was sleeping on one of his couches, one naked bruised leg draping over the side, the foot resting on the floor. His torso covered by the stained outer cloak of a Femaron uniform.

'What happened to you, Hiro?' wondered Loke, and walked to his friend, stepping over pools of spilled alcohol and crisps.

"Now why didn't you invite me to the party, Hiro?" he joked, shaking Baglian's shoulder gently. When Baglian didn't wake, Loke decided to clean while Baglian slept it off. 'Where's Majgen?' he wondered, while gathering bottles and other trash. 'Could she have been returned to a Mentarion school for some ranking up?'




Majgen Ch. 017



By the time Baglian woke with a head-ache motivated groan, Loke had gathered most of the empty bottles.

"Good morning, Hiro," said Loke. "Having a nice hangover?"

"Not nice enough, Soren," said Baglian. "Hand me a bottle of Bonka please."

"That's a first. You've never volunteered for Bonka before."

"In that case, give me two." Baglian struggled against gravity to move his body into a sitting position.

Loke grabbed three unopened Bonkas, two for Baglian one for himself.

"What happened?" asked Loke, handing Baglian the requested beer.

"I had a little party." Baglian downed half of the first Bonka in one long stretch.

"Where did you get those bruises?" Loke indicated Baglian's naked legs.

The Femaron looked down at himself. "Ah those." Baglian shrugged. "Paid a prostitute to give me a tyla-whipping, cost a fortune."

'Why would Hiro do such a thing? He isn't into things like that, and he absolutely hates hiring prostitutes,' thought Loke, and asked, "What's bugging you, Hiro?"

Instead of replying, Baglian downed the rest of the first Bonka, threw the empty bottle over his shoulder, and opened the second.

'He is feeling grief. Grief, regret, sorrow and despair,' perceived Loke. "You don't feel like talking about it?" he asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

"You are a very wise man, Soren. Very wise," commented Baglian, and downed first half of the second Bonka.

"We can talk about other things," offered Loke. He got no reply, yet still moved right ahead to talk of other things, starting out with complaints about the newest fashion in women's bathing wear. Some popular fashion designer had started a trend with full covering suits, giving boring prospects to pool visits this year.

"Majgen is dead," said Baglian, after Loke had suggested there should be laws against full body bathing suits.

"What?" Loke was shocked but hung on to one thought, 'He isn't speaking full truth. There is a discrepancy in his emanations.'

"You heard me."

"Yes, but I also sensed you," retorted Loke.

"Sneaky empath," said Baglian. "You want to sense Full Truth?" A sneer made the words sound more like a threat than like a question.

Loke didn't reply.

"The full truth, Soren, is that I hope Student Majgen is dead."

'What happened?' The question tormented Loke's mind with a panicky urgency.

"You don't want to know, Soren," stated Baglian. "You truly don't want to know what happened to our precious little Majgen."

"Stop acting like you had feelings for her and tell me what happened," demanded Loke.

"I was at the Ulballa, Soren, and so was Majgen."

'Grief,' thought Loke, he knew as well as anyone the Ulballa had been defeated by the yijejos.

"I left her there, Soren. I evacuated, and left her there to die alone."

"Why? Why did you leave her?" Loke was enraged. 'She can't be dead, not for real, not my Black-haired Beauty!' he thought, but didn't let the denial enter his words. "Why was she even there? She was only a student!"

"I don't know why I chose to leave and save my own hide, Soren. I should have stayed with her. I should have died with her if need be, not fled."

"Is there a chance she escaped?"

"No," stated Baglian. "Absolutely no chance. Every shuttle and pod belonging to the Ulballa has been tracked and accounted for. The same goes for every piece of the ship that could theoretically have supported life on its own. If she had escaped she would have been found by now."

'MAJGEN!' screamed Loke's thoughts. Sorrow swept through him, stealing his breath. He remembered how sweet her giggles had rung when he had told her jokes, and broke into hopeless sobs.

"I'm sorry, Soren," said Baglian. He staggered to his feet to fetch more Bonka for both of them. 'If only I had known before I fled,' thought Baglian, wishing his headache had been strong enough to dull his mind completely. 'I wouldn't have left her if I had known what yijejos do when they catch interrogators alive.' Never before had Baglian considered himself such a shameful a failure.

No human knew of Majgen's treacherous act of heroism. The yijejos had not made that particular detail of the Winin's rescue public.

----=(o)=----

"Revered Winin," greeted The Master Tailor, as she and the Apprentice Tailor knelt.

'A deep greeting kneel,' noticed Majgen.

"Welcome to my home, Tailors," said Aejoa. "I hope you brought your artistic inspiration. Today I require a special task of you."

"To be allowed in the presence of the Winin," said The Master Tailor, slowly raising her head, "is always an inspi..." she halted mid-word and her eyes widened in shock when she saw the human in the Winin's reaching limbs. 'Horrid,' thought and felt the disconcerted Master Tailor. 'A human!'

The vile emotion of disgust rising in the Master Tailor was evident to both Majgen and Aejoa. It disconcerted Aejoa, made him worry for his Little Human's feelings. Majgen, however, was prepared to feel such emotions from yijejo strangers. She ignored the expected disgust from the Master tailor and, unlike Aejoa, noticed the emotions of the other tailor - the Apprentice.

'He looks at me with such an open mind,' thought Majgen. 'A free wonder and curiosity. He even noticed how tenderly Aejoa - his Winin - holds me. He wonders if I am something special, wonders how I earned the care of a Winin.'

"Can that one make my clothes for me please?" asked Majgen, and pointed to the apprentice.

"He is an apprentice. You deserve to have your clothes crafted by a Master, Little Human," stated Aejoa, while glaring at the Master Tailor with a menace that promised severe retribution upon even a minor objection.

"I want leisure clothes, Aejoa. A Master of the craft should not be needed for that."

Hesitating, Aejoa studied the Master and the Apprentice.

'I wanted a Master to make glorious clothes for me and my human both,' he thought, but could also feel how sincerely Majgen preferred the Apprentice.

"Is the Apprentice any good?" Aejoa asked the Master Tailor.

"Joone is extremely skilled," said the Master Tailor, evidently speaking full truth, "but he is somewhat insecure, Winin."

"Insecure?" asked Aejoa.

Apprentice Joone lowered his head and raised his shoulders in shame, putting more weight on the Tailor's criticism than her praise.

"I see," commented Aejoa, hence stopping the Master Tailor's explanation sooner than it began.

"I like him," stated Majgen. "He appears very kind." Her words warmed the Apprentice slightly but couldn't repair the Winin's clinical acknowledgement of the criticism from before. 'Sometimes Aejoa is so clumsy. I really don't know why yijejos chose to elevate him to a post of high emotional insight.'

"Put me down," demanded Majgen.

Hesitating a moment, Aejoa scanned the Master Tailor for possible hostile intent before placing the little creature on the floor. Majgen wasn't worried. With her special sensitivity she already knew the Master Tailor wouldn't even think of harming the Winin's unusual pet.

"Let me have the translator please," requested Majgen, once safely on the floor.

"Certainly, Little Human." Aejoa handed her the device.

Holding the oversized sheet around her, Majgen trussed to Joone - the insecure Apprentice Tailor. Much to Aejoa's relief, the Master Tailor inconspicuously moved to the side, away from Joone, as the human approached.

"Hi," said Majgen, once she stood at Joone's feet, craning her neck to see his face so high above.

"Greetings," the translator translated Joone's reply, as he sank to his knees to be closer to the human's eye level.

"I need clothes," said Majgen, "this sheet is not practical."

"So I see," said Joone. "Let me set up my equipment, so we can get you measured. I am sure I can design something more practical than a sheet for you."

"Thank you, Joone," said Majgen, while thinking, 'There is something exceptionally lovely about you, Joone.'

"Be careful!" exclaimed Aejoa, as Joone fetched his designer's box with yijejoan speed.

Freezing in spot, Joone waited for the Winin to elaborate his warning.

"Humans are very fragile. Move with caution."

"Certainly, Winin." Apprentice Joone proceeded with setting his gear up, although now moving slowly.

The Winin's eyes followed Joone's every move with rapt attention. He had a hard time keeping himself from snatching his human away from the other yijejo.

"Aejoa, artists needs peace and quiet to perform their work," said Majgen, knowing tailors of the quality Aejoa hired were considered artists. 'He is making Joone nervous and is rather getting on my nerves too,' she thought.

"I am quiet," stated Aejoa.

"Yes, but you are too on edge. It's getting on my nerves, Aejoa," admitted Majgen, "and Joone's too, although he would never complain to you."

"How dare you speak to the revered Winin with such insolence," blurted the Master Tailor, indignant anger evident in her voice.

"The Little Human can speak to me any way she desires, Tailor." Aejoa glared menacingly at the Master Tailor.

"My apologies, I did not know, Winin," she said, and kneeled to the Winin yet again - confused and hurt by the Winin's hostility.

Fighting an urge to chide Aejoa for being so aggressive towards the tailor, Majgen remained quiet. Aejoa chose to accommodate his human's wishes. He and the Master Tailor moved to the other end of the room, to begin the process of designing a glorious outfit for Aejoa - the revered Winin of Naonun.

'My equipment cannot measure a human body through cloth,' realised Joone. 'I will need to measure manually.'

Blushing, Majgen raised her mind shield upon perceiving Joone's contemplations. To yijejos clothing was a matter of symbolism and temperature regulation. To her it was more than that, clothed or unclothed while amongst others was a mark for non-sexual or sexual behaviour. She had trouble letting go off that distinction, even amongst aliens.

"Will you let me take the sheet please?" asked Joone, and reached out a limb.

Taking a deep breath, Majgen unveiled her body and handed him an end of the sheet. Still moving slowly and carefully -- as advised by the Winin -- Joone gathered the sheet and put it away. Only then turning his eyes to the human.

'I don't even know what it wants covered and what it wants sticking out,' realised Joone, studying the alien body. He had never seen a human in the flesh before. 'Wouldn't trust fictional movies to tell me how they like to dress. What are those bumps on its upper body? Those weren't in any movies I have seen. And, that black thing on its head, what is that?'

Majgen forgot to be shy about her nudity, as she perceived Joone's speculations.

'He doesn't know what breasts are,' she understood, and broke into giggles when she realised he was entertaining the notion they might be a kind of retractable tentacles.

"I will want the bumps on my chest covered by clothing, Joone," offered Majgen. "Not sticking out."

"I will make sure to remember that." Joone was drafting her shape onto his designer pad - by hand. "Could you tell me which other parts of you, you would like covered by clothing?"

"I would like everything covered, except head and hands."

Joone's eyes moved over her body, searchingly.

"Would you mind pointing all your hands out to me?"

That comment earned him genuine laughter from Majgen. Being an empath Joone understood the human was laughing, but was puzzled when the translator didn't translate any of her sounds. Unaware that human laughter was noisy, Joone had assumed the human was both talking and laughing.

Once she got her laughing fit under control, Majgen dutifully pointed out both her hands, explaining she only had two such limbs. Shortly after that she suggested mind sharing as a means to convey her wishes in clothing more efficiently. Joone agreed and soon after could show her his first suggestions for outfits.

Sitting on the floor they continued working on designing a wardrobe for Majgen, using less and less words - more and more mental images. She would be happy to simply have several copies of the same outfit. After years of wearing a rank ten mentarion student uniform, Majgen no longer remembered any advantages to variety in a wardrobe. She liked creating clothes with Joone, though. Even though he did all the creating and she merely indicated what she liked more or less, and which designs would be impractical and limiting for human movements.

'Joone truly is an artist,' thought Majgen, following how swiftly ideas developed into beautiful imagery in his mind, 'and such a nice person too. Kindness permeates every part of him.'

"How do you like deep purple?" asked Joone.

"I don't know, please show me some examples, Joone." As she requested, so he complied. Studying the colour Majgen said, "I am starting to believe all colours can be beautiful, Joone."

"I think you are right," stated Joone. He had always loved colours, and the wonderful beauty that could be created with them. "You... What should I call you?" he asked, turning his amber-coloured eyes on her.

"Your eyes are beautiful too," said Majgen, distracted from his question. "Could you make me something in that colour?"

Temporarily confused, Joone blinked a few times. 'My eyes?'

"I'm sorry, Joone. I got distracted. I hadn't noticed the colour of your eyes before. All this talk of colours makes me notice them everywhere."

"I'm glad you like them," said Joone, although learning she liked them made him self-conscious to an uncomfortable degree. 'Maybe she won't like them after she has looked at them a while,' he thought, and moved his gaze from her to avoid eye-contact. 'She doesn't even want to tell me what to call her.'

"You can call me anything you like, Joone. The Winin calls me Little Human." 'Joone really is insecure.'

"I wouldn't presume a right to address you like the revered Winin does," said Joone. "What is your name?"

"Majgen."

"I won't be able to pronounce that the way you do," apologised Joone. "May I still address you by your name even if I cant pronounce it right?"

"Certainly, Joone."

"Maaaaaajjen," tried Joone. "No, that is not good. Please say it again."

She did and he tried again.

"Maaiii, Maiiiiiien. No, I don't like that how about, this: Maijien."

"Say it again, Joone."

"Maijien."

"I like that," said Majgen truthfully. "I like it just as much as my real name."

"I will call you that then, Maijien. A beautiful name, for a nice person."

"Thank you. I think you are nice too, Joone."

"I was thinking about a combination of deep purple with other colours," said Joone, trying to move the topic of the conversation away from himself again. 'How long will it think I am nice? It probably didn't mean much with it. Some would say just about everyone is nice.'

"Joone, why are you so insecure?" Majgen's voice pulled Joone from his thoughts and his strategy to change the topic.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I think maybe it is because I am so unworthy."

"Unworthy of what?"

"Everything."

"No," stated Majgen, confidently. "You are not unworthy of anything, Joone."

"You say that because you don't know me well, Maijien."

"No," she said softly, "that is not true, Joone."

After their several brief mind shares, and after sensing his emanations while he designed for her, Majgen no longer considered Joone a stranger.

'It thinks it is telling the truth,' perceived Joone, but did not object to Majgen's words. He would not speak against the Winin's pet.

"I think your mind is even more beautiful than the designs you make, Joone. If such a thing is possible."

'I'd wish it would stop talking like that,' thought Joone. 'Such sweet words hurt when they are not real.'

"It is real. Please, Joone, let me show you what I see, what I sense." 'I can't stand to see you suffer needlessly,' she thought.

"You may show me whatever you like, Maijien. I am at your service." Joone was not sure what he expected her to show him, or how. He could never have imagined what Majgen could show him.

" 'See what I see,' " said and thought Majgen, and opened her emotions fully. " 'Feel what I feel.' "

And he did.

Joone let the little alien pull him in. Her obvious care for him cuddled, and comforted him.

'So warm. Maijien makes me feel protected,' thought Joone.

'I would not harm you,' felt Majgen. 'I love/care.' She enveloped him in her warm emotions, and then she pulled him back into her own memories. She pulled him back to the moment she and Aejoa had entered the room.

" 'See what I saw,' " she thought and said. " 'Feel what I felt.' "

And he did.

Joone forgot who he was, like Majgen could forget who she was, when perceiving intently. For a while - in his mind - he became, Majgen Rahan, the Winin's pet, who met Apprentice Tailor Joone for the first time. With her unique perceptive empathic abilities and open mind, he saw himself from the outside. From the moment they first met, to the moment they were in.

A human - a creature considered a very unlikely source of emotional insight.

Joone was the first yijejo, to see her gift. He would be the first to understand what Majgen had to offer his kind. But right then he thought not of the nature of her gift. He thought only of what she showed him.

"I am beautiful," said Joone, not referring to his physical appearance, even though Majgen approved of his physical form too. "I am beautiful," he repeated. The knowledge, the fact of it, pounded through him. A revelation cracking and modifying everything he had ever thought about himself. A quiet revolution.

The Apprentice's strong emotions distracted Aejoa and the Master Tailor from their work on extending Aejoa's wardrobe. Unable, or unwilling, to resist his curiosity, Aejoa walked to his human. To participate in whatever she and the Apprentice were up to.

"Winin," said Joone. Although breathless from his profound experience, he managed to move into a worshipping kneel.

"Apprentice Tailor, how goes things here?" asked Aejoa.

"Your human, Winin. It is amazing." Joone spoke full truth.

The Tailor's words and emotions made Aejoa's emotions jump with joyful pride.

"Yes, she is amazing," agreed Aejoa, and picked Majgen up to give her a somewhat possessive hug. He was happy to have others recognise his human to be something very special. "Have you designed some clothes for her now?" Deep down Aejoa felt it was about time he became her centre of attention again.

"Yes, Winin. Several full outfits by now."

"Excellent," said Aejoa. "We would like some ready as soon as possible. She has been dragging sheets around for too long already. I want you to begin sewing her clothes immediately. Send every outfit as soon as it is ready."

"I will, Winin. I will make the simplest outfit first, so she can have real clothing very soon. Afterwards, I will proceed to the more worthy clothing." Dizzy from his freshly gained insight, Joone packed his gear, burning with a desire to serve both Majgen and the Winin, as requested.

"Joone," called Majgen, just before he left the room. He halted and turned to offer his full attention.

"Yes, Maijien?"

"Be well, Friend."

"I think I will, Maijien. Now. Thank you." The strength of the Apprentice Tailor's gratitude was an enigma to the other two yijejos, but the Winin asked for no explanation for that, hence neither did the Master Tailor. Joone left, hurrying off to make clothes for Majgen.

"What was that he called you, Little Human?" Aejoa asked, carrying Majgen to the Master Tailors gear.




Majgen Ch. 017



"My name," explained Majgen, "or as close to it as a yijejo can pronounce."

"You never told me your name." Aejoa's emotions contained a hint of jealousy.

"You never asked, Aejoa. Besides, I like 'Eeejow Juman' too, it has a musical sound," she said, speaking the yijejoan words for Little Human.

'Jealousy,' thought Majgen, when Aejoa and the Master Tailor resumed the design of a glorious outfit. 'Aejoa isn't usually prone to being jealous over small things like that. Before he was captured by humans he was a sharing person.' She had learned that from his memories. 'He needs me still, because I remind him he was loved during that time. I guess with time he will grow less dependant, less demanding. Aejoa really is a loveable oaf. For as long as it takes him to get back to his former self, I can deal with his clumsy jealousy and possessive behaviour,' concluded Majgen with a naivety typical for youths of her kind.

As so many times before she cuddled to his chest, enjoying his warmth and enjoying how happy her comfort seeking movements made him. Soon she fell asleep.

While his human slept, Aejoa told the Master Tailor the story of how the little creature had sacrificed herself to save him from torture, and how she had later saved his life. By the time he was done, the tailor no longer felt any disgust towards the tiny alien resting in the Winin's hold.

----=(o)=----

Sunlight glittered in the board-game pieces, reflecting out in all colours of the rainbow.

'In reality I enjoy looking at the pieces more than I do playing the game,' Majgen admitted to herself.

Aejoa was trying to teach her the joys of playing Jeeiouma, a strategic board game favoured amongst Eieie. Many considered the deep thinking required to play it well to be mind expanding.

'I have trouble even remembering all the rules at once. But at least Aejoa seems to be having fun.' Majgen had twice as many pieces as Aejoa. In the beginning of the game she had had three times as many, playing with handicap because of difference in skill and practice. 'Aejoa always go completely quiet when playing this game. He doesn't even seem to remember who he is playing with. Maybe I should call First Servant Inee and have him play for me.' Majgen giggled to herself. 'Aejoa probably wouldn't notice the difference until the game ended.'

Raising her eyes from the pieces, Majgen studied Aejoa's face.

'He really is far into it. He doesn't move at all except to move a piece.' Majgen sighed. 'Playing Jeeiouma is actually a lousy way to spend the daylight hours. It's even more boring than wandering around at night with nothing to do, and no one to do it with.'

A mischievous thought rose in Majgen, 'I didn't promise to keep my perceptivity low when we began this game.' In previous games she and Aejoa had agreed that she should refrain from following his strategy through his emanations. It had become standard for them; they no longer bothered to mention it every game. Usually using empathic perceptivity was permitted while playing the game, but, since Majgen could follow just about anything through a mind shield, empathy would give her a truly unfair advantage.

'Wonder how long it will take for him to realise it if I start cheating,' she thought, and decided to test it.

For a few human weeks, a few yijejo days, Majgen had lived in Aejoa's home. Life had settled. Routines had been established. The outlook of spending the rest of her life in lazy luxury, officially being the Winin's pet, had become familiar and safe.

Majgen managed to eradicate half of Aejoa's pieces before he caught on to her.

"You are cheating!" The exclamation came right after she had removed his last Guardian Captain, from the board.

"I most certainly am, revered Winin," Majgen said in yijejoan. She had learned many words and phrases in his language now.

"How long have you been doing that?"

"Oh, quite a while, by now."

"Don't ruin the game like that. It takes all the fun out of it," complained Aejoa.

"What fun? I'm bored Aejoa. This is my last waking period before nightfall. I don't want to spend the day hours being bored." 'I don't want to spend the nights being bored either, but not so much I can do about those.'

"You should let me order one of my servants to entertain you at night."

"It wouldn't be fair to them, Aejoa. They weren't hired to entertain me. It's not their job." 'They wouldn't like to be reassigned from being servants to being pet-watchers. None of them.'

"They will do what I say without complaining."

"They wouldn't talk, but they would feel. I don't want you to issue such an order." Majgen was adamant.

"I could hire someone else then. Someone who does not object to the task," offered Aejoa. "Or would you object to that too?"

"No, I wouldn't. If you can find such a person that would be lovely."

----=(o)=----

"Now, I have described to you what this job is," said Aejoa, "and I need an honest answer, not a polite or dutiful one, just a completely honest one."

"As you request, I shall try to comply, Winin."

"Lower your mind shield," demanded Aejoa, and noticed the surprise in the younger yijejo's emotions.

'Can't be helped,' thought Aejoa. He had already interviewed five different people for this job. Four of them had lied and said they truly wanted the job - even though they didn't. The fifth had honestly admitted to not desire the task.

'I didn't want to ask this one to take the job,' thought Aejoa, but didn't ponder further on why he had not wanted to hire this particular person. The young man lowered his mind shield as instructed, and Aejoa asked the final question of the interview. "Do you truly want this task?"

Aejoa expected hesitation in the young man, but the answer was immediate and full truth.

"Yes, Winin."

"Can you start immediately?"

"Yes, Winin."

"You won't have trouble staying awake?"

"No, Winin. I often work all night."

'Does he have to be that eager?' Aejoa had hoped to get someone hired for the night, before going to sleep. But somehow the young man's strong desire to get the job bothered Aejoa. 'Well, I guess eager is good. It means my Little Human will be more prone to accept him. Company during the nights will make her happier, and I want her to be happy.'

"Very well," said Aejoa. "I will bring you to her, so she can decide if she wants your company tonight."

"Thank you, Winin."

'What a strange thing to say with such extreme gratitude just now. I am not paying that much for his time,' thought Aejoa, troubled yet again.

While leading Apprentice Tailor Joone through his home, Aejoa tried to understand what caused the troubled feelings. 'I scanned him prior to talking about the job. I asked him multiple times if he would ever even think of harming her. I am absolutely sure he would never harm her. Why am I so troubled?'

They located Majgen in one of his living-rooms. She was on the floor, drawing images. The image pad she used was a kid's toy. Majgen had not yet learned enough yijejoan to be able to use adult versions.

Sensing their presence, she raised her head to look at them.

"Joone! It is so nice to see you again. How are you?" asked Majgen, happiness shining from her.

"I am very good - and happy to see you too, Maijien," said Joone, joy shining from him.

Majgen and Joone were so happy to see each other that neither of them noticed jealous pain shooting through Aejoa upon their happy reunion. The revered Winin himself did not recognise the jealousy, would not acknowledge it.

"You said you wanted company for the night," explained Aejoa.

"So you went ahead and brought me Joone," interpreted Majgen. "That was so considerate of you, Aejoa. You are so nice to me."

Aejoa's troubled jealousy washed away as Majgen turned her full attention to him, and he felt her love and gratitude aimed at himself.

"Pick me up!" demanded Majgen, holding her arms up to Aejoa. He complied. Hugging her he completely forgot how troubled he had felt about hiring Joone.

"I want you to be happy, Little Human," said Aejoa, lovingly.

"I know you do, Aejoa." Majgen spoke with confidence and conviction. "You are a good friend."

Joone watched the unlikely pair, wishing that Majgen would let him hold her close that way too, but not pained at all by the love she felt for the Winin.

"We can have a three-person board-game before I go to bed," suggested Aejoa. No longer semi-consciously troubled by the concept of sharing Majgen's attention now that she had shown he was still number one.

"Anything but Jeeiouma please," begged Majgen, not quite joking.

"You can pick a game for us, Little Human," promised Aejoa.

----=(o)=----

"That was a fun game," said Majgen, when Aejoa vanquished the last of Joone's standing pieces. Her pieces had been eviscerated only halfway into the game, but watching Aejoa and Joone play while they all three talked and joked had been fun too.

"It was a good game. You play well, Apprentice Tailor Joone," Aejoa praised the younger yijejo.

"Thank you, Winin," said Joone. He did not return the praise. To both him and Aejoa it seemed obvious a Winin would be a better player than a tailor, hence if Joone returned the praise it would be considered insulting rather than complimenting.

Majgen followed their interaction with interest. She was still trying her best to understand everything yijejoan, like she had earlier in her life tried to learn to understand everything human.

'They are both happy with the rules of their interactions, the roles they assume. The superior person and the inferior person. Not just that. They both truly believe it is the right way. Joone truly considers Aejoa to be a superior being. Winin, it is not just a rank, it is more than mere status.' Majgen looked at the two men. 'They both believe Aejoa is a greater person than Joone, but I don't see why.'

"It is about time for me to go to sleep," said Aejoa. Actually it was well past his bedtime. He rose and picked up Majgen. "Would you like some special attention before bedtime, Little Human."

Majgen blushed at the intimate question and thought, 'He shouldn't mention that while others are present.' Then she chided herself, 'Stop being silly about it. Yijejos don't think about it the way humans do.'

Trying to act naturally, Majgen fought her shyness and spoke openly on the topic, "You are starting to enjoy giving me special attention, aren't you, Aejoa?"

"I enjoy it, when you enjoy it, Little Human, and you have begun to enjoy it," Aejoa replied honestly. "Except in the mornings. It is too intense and exhausting for you in the mornings after a whole night without."

"Yes, it is," admitted Majgen. "But we get past it every time."

Turning his eyes towards Joone, Aejoa got an idea. "I could teach Joone to help you with that too, Little Human. If he treats you once or twice during the night, the mornings would be gentler on you."

"Aejoa!" Majgen was outraged at the proposal.

"Old taboos bothering you again?" Aejoa asked gently, not realising that he might have had second thoughts if she had accepted the notion eagerly. He might have felt his position as her most important friend could be threatened.

"It's not just taboo, Aejoa. Sex is private."

"I understand," said Aejoa. "Let's talk about it tomorrow, when you are more familiar with him. In the meantime, will you allow me to give you some special attention?"

"Maybe just a little bit, Aejoa. To last the night."

----=(o)=----

Later in the night, Joone was helping Majgen learn to use an adult version yijejoan image pad. During a natural pause in the effort, Joone started talking of a matter not related to the device.

"I wanted to say, thank you, Maijien. For what you did for me when I was first here."

"You did already, just before you left that day."

"I know but it was so brief." Joone moved his amber eyes from the pad to Majgen's face. "What you did for me, it was... I cannot find words."

"Then show me instead, Joone," offered Majgen.

"I wouldn't be able to show the way you showed me," admitted Joone.

"I can show you how."

"I would be honoured, Maijien."

She showed him. Majgen herself did not know how special she was, did not realise what gift she carried. Yet, through that yijejoan night she shared it with Joone. She showed him how to show what he saw, and she showed him how to see more clearly -- how to sense from more sides.

Her teachings could not be translated to words, they were emotion, but sometimes she did try to use words too. Halfway through that night was one of those times.

"But how can I see the way you do without your aid, when I don't have your special abilities?" asked Joone.

"No, it's not emanations or transmissions I speak of, Joone. I speak of how much you let yourself sense with the abilities you have. It is like you will not let yourself see the emotions. You will not let them reach your heart. You need to see with your heart, Joone, to feel with your heart."

Joone lowered his face to look down at his abdomen.

"Maijien..." he hesitated, confused, "... I am a yijejo. I..." He patted his abdomen - close to where his heart was - trying to find words. "I can't see or feel with my heart. You see yijejos, we have no sensory organs placed in the heart, or at least not empathic ones."

Majgen shook her head, smiling slightly, rather embarrassed at herself.

"No, of course you don't," she said. "Silly me. No that wasn't what I meant, Joone. Humans we don't have empathic organs there, nor any brain centres for cognitive perception."

"Then why did you tell me to see with my heart?"

"I didn't mean it literally, Joone. It was a metaphor. It was a more poetic phrase."

'I can feel it was a beautiful one. It is so clear in her emotions,' thought Joone, and said, "Please explain it to me."

"Amongst humans, when we say heart, we do not just refer to the organ, which amongst us is placed in the chest," Majgen explained and held a hand to her chest, indicating where it was. "When we say heart we often refer to something deeper, something emotional. If I should fall deeply in love with someone then I would say, 'I gave him my heart'. If he then treated me badly, I would say, 'he broke my heart.' "

"So for you the word heart is like being in love?" asked Joone.

"It is more than that to me," said Majgen. "Once when I was a very young girl, a little child. This is one of my earliest memories. I asked a question, similar to what you asked me, to my mother when she was putting me to bed. I do not remember the exact question I asked, but I remember the story she told me as explanation."

Painful longing and sorrow, but also joy at the memory, went through Majgen as she remembered her mother's face and voice.

"She said to me. Once upon a time, very, very long ago, when humans still lived on earth. Far before we had even made machines that could fly. Before there was science, or doctors, or even hospitals. Humans did not know much about how their bodies functioned. They knew, of course, how to eat, and drink, and knew they needed rest and to visit the toilet. But they didn't know much more than that.

"To this day, Joone, I do not know if the use of the word heart came about the way she told me, but I like the story still.

"She told me people tried to guess what did what. It was easy to guess where food goes, she said, because a stomach hurts when it is hungry. Other things were easy too - like eyes to see and ears to hear. But emotions, that was hard for humans to figure out. Which part of their body felt emotions? Many said the stomach for that too, because it hurts when we are really sad, or really scared.

"Later on, it was decided the stomach was for food, and the heart had to be where we felt, because it can pound so heavily when we feel strongly. Also, because, when it would stop pounding, we would no longer feel."

Tears came to Majgen's eyes, sadness overtook her a moment.

"My mother's heart stopped pounding many years ago, Joone. I still miss her. My father too."

"Let me comfort you," requested Joone. In response Majgen held out her arms.

He picked her up. Holding her close, he shared her pain and her memories of her beloved parents. When sadness passed and the present once again prevailed, Majgen resumed her story.

"She told me that this was the way the word heart came to attain this special meaning. A meaning which it has kept to this very day, amongst humans. Even though millennia has passed since science found that the heart, the organ in the chest, is not where we feel."

"I like the story too, Maijien. Your mother must have been a very special person."

"I think she was," said Majgen. "I had her only so few years and it was so long ago."

"How did she die?"

"She and my father, they were killed by yijejos."

"Your parents went to the war while you were still a child?"

"No, Joone, the war came to us. The soldiers killed everyone, except the children."

"I apologise," Joone was truly ashamed. 'I didn't know soldiers killed civilians. I've always been told they don't.'

"If you do not ask me to apologise for every yijejo who has been tortured and killed by humans, I will not ask you to apologise for what happened at Hawlun, Joone."

'I understand,' felt and transmitted Joone.

The night was long, and there was just the two of them. Between those two there was no boredom. They each had a youth's lifetime of memories to share with the other. Joone could not be bored with learning to see how Majgen saw, and Majgen could not be bored with showing him.

Nearing dawn Majgen slept in Joone's reaching limbs. He sat absolutely still, holding her like the most valuable treasure. Just like Aejoa so often did.

'Her teachings are unique,' thought Joone. 'No Eieie could show me what she shows me, not even the Winin. Not the Ojewa either. This is not their way. This is not a way I have ever heard of, but it makes my feelings sing.'

As he watched the face of the little human, who so trustingly slept in his hold, he decided to rephrase that thought.

'No. It makes my heart sing.'

*

 Copyright of Nanna Marker.

Last chapter (016), I spent a lot of words begging for public comments.

What do I have to do to get them?

(Message to those few who did give: Thank you, it was most kind of you, Sirs and Ladies.)



Majgen Ch. 018



Warning! Work in progress, the full book-series is not yet finished (unless my profile states otherwise). Agonising waits in between chapters is a very real risk!

Copyright of Nanna Marker

*

----=(Lovers)=----

"Maybe this was a bad idea," interjected Majgen. "I can hold out till mornings, Aejoa. It really isn't necessary for you to educate Joone on how to..." She couldn't bring herself to say - satisfy me.

"I will resume my duties as a Winin tomorrow, Little Human. It would be wise to have a back up plan for times where I might not be able to get home on time."

"Sedatives would be a viable alternative," suggested Majgen.

'Why don't you trust me?' Joone formed the question emotionally, knowing Majgen would catch on to it.

'I do trust,' Majgen felt in response.

"You said you wouldn't be away for longer than one miui at a time tomorrow, Aejoa. We do not need to do this today," said Majgen, thinking, 'Twenty hours between sexual release gives me no problems, whatsoever, with Brakwan symptoms.'

'Why won't you let me be part of this?' Joone's emotional question translated easily to Majgen.

'Feels wrong,' replied her emotions.

'Why?'

"This shouldn't be delayed till the last moment, Little Human." Aejoa was practically unaware of the silent communication between Majgen and Joone. "You are so sensitive regarding these matters. Educating him or anyone else on this topic should be done slowly and thoroughly, so you will not need to be rushed into unpleasant intimacy."

"It feels like I already am being rushed into unpleasant intimacy," explained Majgen.

'I am unpleasant to you?' Joone was hurt.

Majgen caught his question, but couldn't transmit a proper reply. 'No, you aren't, but this is different,' simply wouldn't translate empathically.

"We are only talking, Little Human. These are only words."

"Intimate words," corrected Majgen. "I feel displayed."

"But you are fully dressed."

"Yes, and I intend to stay that way. You can't talk me into a demonstration, Aejoa."

"I haven't..."

"Don't give me that. You were planning to."

"But..."

"Put me down. Today's lesson in human sexuality is over." As soon as Aejoa let her go, she trotted out of the room, feeling uncomfortable about the whole situation.

Shifting his eyes between the unmoving Aejoa - his revered Winin - and the leaving human, Joone hesitated. He was hired to be with the human and also wanted to be with the human, but the Winin was the one whose commands he needed to adhere to.

"Stay with me a while, Joone." The Winin's words settled the matter. "I still have more to tell."

"I will listen, Winin," said Joone, and briefly knelt in acknowledgement.

"I pointed the general locations of the most erogenous zones out to you, Joone."

'She said the lesson was over. She wanted this talk to end,' thought Joone, feeling uncomfortable about the Winin's apparent disrespect regarding Majgen's expressed wishes.

Aejoa perceived Joone's discomfort, and found it easy to guess the cause of it.

"Joone, my Little Human needed a rest from this talk. These matters are very delicate for her, but they are also vital for her mental health. It is important that someone knows what to do if something should happen to me, or even if I just get held from home for too long at a time."

"You need not explain yourself to me, Winin," said Joone, while kneeling yet again. "I do not always understand, but I trust your judgement fully." He was speaking the truth, his reverence for the Winin was genuine.

"I expected that much, Joone. But your concentration is better spent focused on what I tell, than on trying to figure out why I tell." Aejoa paused a moment, studying Joone, before continuing his explanation of Majgen's sexual needs and desires. "I have briefly detailed to you the physical aspects. There are emotional and psychological aspects too, however, and those are even more important than the mere physical touch."

"More important, Winin?" Joone was surprised. From the clinical physical descriptions earlier, he had gotten the impression that this task - which he might one day need to perform - was a very mechanical one.

"Yes, Joone, more, far more. So concentrate and listen closely, because if you hurt her, if you make her cry, then I will cause you suffering like none you have ever experienced before." The intensity and reality of Aejoa's words were intimidating, but Joone felt no fear - only resolution.

'If I hurt her and made her cry, I would deserve to suffer,' thought Joone, but only said, "I understand fully, Winin."

----=(o)=----

In the night Joone and Majgen were alone again, just the two of them and lots of time to spend.

"Wait for me!" called Majgen, laughing as she ran down the hallway to catch up to Joone. Running as fast as she could she didn't take long to reach him now that he stood still waiting for her. "How does it feel to be able to move so fast?" she asked.

"How does it feel to always be so slow?" countered Joone.

"Annoying," laughed Majgen.

"What a negative approach to the world!" exclaimed Joone, then laughed and said, "To learn to be more positive about your speed, you should re-do your travel through the hallway." He was joking, and Majgen followed up on the joke.

"What you mean from all the way back there?" Majgen looked down the hallway mimicking exasperation. "Do you realise how long it would take me to get there?"

"Yes, I certainly do. About three seconds," Joone stated cheerfully.

"More like thirtyyeeeEEE." Majgen shrieked in surprise as Joone picked her up and ran her through the hallway in three seconds. Her shriek evolved to laughter as they stood still again.

"I like the sound your laughter makes," said Joone.

"Good thing you don't know how ticklish I am then," giggled Majgen.

"Ticklish, you say?" Joone put her down. "If you make it to the other end of the hallway faster than me, then I won't tickle you."

"That's not fair. I can't make it there faster than you."

"Since when was tickling meant to be fair?" asked Joone, and shook his limbs in a manner which had always prompted his younger brothers to run away giggling - wise from experience. Majgen caught the association from his mind, but didn't run away. The two of them were joking. Joone wouldn't bully her beyond her acceptance of the joke.

"Well," said Joone, "to make it fair you can get a ten second head-start."

"Ok," Majgen said and started running down the hallway.

Only one third of the hallway was left when Joone caught her again.

"Too slow!" he exclaimed, and ran her back to the start of the hallway. "Last chance, if you don't make it this time I have to tickle you. It's the tickle law. GO!" he said and put her down.

Majgen started running again, but he picked her up after two seconds only.

"You cheat. It hasn't been ten seconds yet." She laughed in his hold, not the least bit offended by his joke.

"Ah, but I didn't say you would get ten seconds head-start the second time round, did I? Now I have to tickle you."

Shrieking and giggling Majgen tried to wrestle loose.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle," said Joone, shaking his free reaching limbs, as he had done as a kid when preparing to tickle a younger sibling mercilessly.

"Mercy, Big Boss." Majgen caught the yijejoan kiddy term for mercy through Joone's emanations, and giggled at his surprise upon understanding her words without the translator.

"So you got the words," he admitted jokingly. "Now speak it convincingly, or else!" His pretend threat drew a new shriek from Majgen.

Joone ended up tickling her a little, although mostly with words. Both enjoyed the joke, and continued playing it till Majgen was breathless with giggles. At which point Joone decided to stop while the game was fun. The little human was still giggling when he carried her down the hall, towards the destination they had had before they started joking.

'Her emotions are singing from all that laughter and fun,' perceived Joone. 'Mine too, although I am not as breathless as she.' He nuzzled her empathically, nudging her to share emotions with him. Happily Majgen complied.

'We are both very happy right now.' Joone smiled, a yijejoan smile of course, not a widening of the lips like a human would. 'She is just as ticklish as any of my siblings. She responds more deeply to the game though.' He tried to grasp the difference. 'It feels similar to what the Winin showed me. How she feels when...' His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden surge of anger in Majgen.

"What's wrong, Maijien?" he asked.

"Aejoa had no right to show you that memory." Majgen's anger pulsed steadily. "That was private."

"It was his own memory he shared with me," explained Joone. 'It still feels strange to hear her call the Winin by name. I didn't even know Aejoa was his name before she told me.'

"I know it was his memory," said Majgen. "I perceived that too. But, it was his memory of something private between me and him. He should not have shared it. It was wrong of him."

'Wrong? How can she so easily accuse the Winin of doing something wrong?' thought Joone.

"The Winin is not infallible, Joone. He often does something wrong, just like everyone else."

"Not like everyone else," claimed Joone. "The Winin is elevated; he possesses far greater wisdom and insight than ordinary people."

"Oh, really?" Majgen made an impatient movement to climb out of his hold, and Joone put her down.

"Yes," persisted Joone. "A person cannot rise that high amongst the Eieie, unless unusually wise."

"Oh, really?" The irony in Majgen's emotions was obvious to Joone as he tailed her slowly.

"You know yourself that he is a very special person."

"Do I?" This question was genuine rather than sarcastic. 'I consider Aejoa a good man, a loveable man,' she thought. 'But I don't hold him in the high reverence yijejos do any Winin.'

"Yes," replied Joone. "I know how you sacrificed yourself for him. The Winin told my boss, and she told all of us."

"And?" Majgen said in yijejoan, requesting the rest of the explanation.

"That was it," said Joone, and then reiterated his meaning more directly. "The Winin is such a magnificent person that you chose to sacrifice your life for him, and risk torture too. Even though he was a stranger -- and an enemy."

Stopping in her track, Majgen turned to Joone. She moved her gaze to his face and his beautiful amber eyes before talking. "There is something you don't realise, Joone. If you had been the yijejo prisoner in that interrogation room then I would have done the exact same thing."

'Full Truth,' perceived Joone, and sank to his knees to be closer to her eye level. 'How can the truth be she would have done the same for me?'

"Because you are a good person too, Joone."

'Is that all it takes?' he thought.

"It's what matters most," replied Majgen. "Of course it doesn't make things worse that I love you too."

"You really are exceptional, Maijien."

"If you look close enough, Joone, there are many exceptional people all around, everywhere. You just need to open your heart to them to see it."

Joone blinked. 'She spoke Full Truth on that too,' he perceived. "I wish I could see as clearly as you do, Maijien."

----=(o)=----

"Put an extra plate in the pile," instructed First Servant Inee. "The human is sleeping, so I invited Joone to join us for breakfast."

"Good thinking, Inee," commented Servant Mooje. "After a whole night alone with the pet, he is probably longing for some company."

"He doesn't appear to mind spending time with the human though," added Low-Servant Niinon. "Seems a bit weird to me."

"Don't speak of things you can't understand," First Servant Inee chided Niinon. "The Winin spends a lot of time with the human too, and no one pays him for that."

"That is different, Inee," objected Low-Servant Niinon. "The Winin owes the human a debt of gratitude, a personal debt. The Winin would not take that lightly."

"If the Winin owes his life to the pet, we all owe it gratitude," added Mooje. "But that doesn't mean Joone will not long for yijejo company by now. He has been with it for two nights in a row now. There isn't much time left to socialise when you are at work all night like that."

While arranging their breakfast on food presentation tables, the servants continued to debate whether Joone's current employ as pet-watcher was a good or bad job, and how frustrating it would be or not. Their debate could probably have gone on for a long time, but was immediately aborted the moment the topic of the conversation arrived.

"Morning greetings," said Joone, as he stepped into the shared servant dining room.

None of the servants failed to notice he was carrying the Little Human. All of them was too baffled by that fact to return the greeting.

"Maijien woke up," explained Joone, "so I took her with me."

"Ou," - aha, said First Servant Inee, though not really understanding. "Joone, you don't have to be with the human every single moment. Not even while it is awake. Dining breaks are perfectly acceptable."

"I know, Inee," said Joone. "She had a nightmare and couldn't fall asleep again, so I thought coming with me to breakfast would be a good diversion."

"Ou," Inee said again, though still not understanding.

"Do you mind sitting right here, Maijien," asked Joone, after locating a spot at safe distance from the - to her - lethally toxic food.

"No, this is good," she replied sleepily. Majgen longed for sleep, but didn't dare sleep again so soon after a nightmare. 'It is so strange that in my dreams yijejos are still nameless monsters,' thought Majgen, watching three of the steady servants and Joone gather breakfast and eat. They ate standing, regular yijejos normally did. A yijejo would only eat sitting if they were being served a meal, not when serving themselves.

"So how was your night?" Low Servant Niinon asked Joone, after piling some food on his own plate.

"It was very enlightening," Joone replied honestly.

"Enlightening? How so?" Niinon was surprised by Joone's choice of words.

"In so many ways. All of them very hard to explain, Niinon," Joone said with an enigmatic smile.

"Please try," requested Niinon, genuinely curious about the background for Joone's cryptic answers.

"Maijien taught me a new way to perceive empathically."

"The human?" Niinon asked with a whisper, sending a surreptitious glance towards Majgen.

"Yes," replied Joone, whispering too just for the fun of it. Joone knew Majgen could follow the meaning of their conversation through their emanations, but he found Niinon's clumsy attempt at acting inconspicuously rather hilarious.

"What could a human possibly teach a yijejo about empathy?" asked Servant Mooje, also whispering.

"A whole lot more than a yijejo could have imagined," whispered Joone, and then he couldn't help himself any longer, his body started shaking with laughter.

"What's so funny?" whispered First Servant Inee.

"It's funny that we are all whispering," whispered Joone, his voice severely distorted by the yijejoan laughter.

"Why?" asked Niinon, still keeping his voice very low.

"Because I know, Niinon," Majgen said in yijejoan, she would have liked to say - Because I know what you are talking about, Niinon. But she didn't know the rest of the words.

Startled by the alien voice, Niinon dropped his breakfast plate on the floor.

"I apologise, Niinon," said Majgen, not knowing how to add - I didn't mean to startle you.

"Hi, Human," said Niinon, slowly gathering his composure. "I didn't know you spoke yijejoan."

"She doesn't really," said Joone, and added, "Yet. But we are working on that, aren't we, Maijien."

"Ei," replied Majgen, - yes.

"You could have warned me," Niinon said - sounding grumpy, and kneeled to pick up the plate and food he had dropped.

"I apologise, Niinon." Joone knelt to help clean up the mess, but couldn't help laughing. "I just had so much fun with all the whispering and secrecy. Why were you whispering anyhow? If you didn't know she could follow the conversation?"

"I don't know," admitted Niinon, and added, "Just felt right," with a growing laughter of his own.

"It's not like you normally need a human's aid," Mooje added to the joking. "Usually you are perfectly capable of dropping a plate and making a mess, without anybody helping."

Niinon had plenty teasing retorts to that comment. The servants spent the rest of the meal teasing each other openly, mostly amiably too.

After the meal, they put the food away in union and withdrew to a shared leisure room with hot drinks. This was a usual routine for the servants, while waiting for the Winin to wake up and call for morning service. Joone chose pure cold water, rather than a hot drink. He wouldn't dare carry Majgen while holding on to a hot yijejoan drink. Such a drink would be poison to her, and he would fear accidentally spilling some of it on her.

The exchange of teasing comments abated while everyone seated in the leisure room, leaving a natural pause for other topics to be taken up.

"Reveal the mystery to us now please, Joone," said First Servant Inee. "Tell us what the human taught you tonight."

"She taught me to sense so much more, clearer, more vivid, more true. I cannot put it into words, Inee," admitted Joone. "It is beyond words."

"How does she teach you then?" asked Inee, sensing Joone's honest enthusiasm.

"She shows me."

"Can you show me?"

"I would like to try," replied Joone. "I have never yet tried with another than Maijien."

"You make it sound very different," said Inee. "Does it hurt?"

"Not at all. It is a wonderful feeling," promised Joone.

"Well, do show me then."

"Will you aid me, Maijien?" asked Joone. "I don't feel fully confident yet."

"Yes, Joone," she said, and transmitted, 'I will assist.'

While rising from his seat and moving closer to Inee, Joone tried to explain what he would do. "First I will see you, Maijien's way, and then I will show you what I saw, Maijien's way."

"Sounds interesting. Will I be able to tell any difference from normal mind-sharing?"

"If I do it right then you will, Inee." Joone suddenly felt insecure regarding his own new abilities.

"No, fear," said Majgen, her emotions spoke what she had meant - Don't fear.

Inee studied the young yijejo and the younger human. 'Was the human that confident all along?' wondered Inee, as Majgen's confidence and trust seemed to strengthen Joone. With a lowered mind shield First Servant Inee awaited Joone's next move.

"Relax," said Majgen. "Close your eyes, Joone."

"I'm a bit nervous, Maijien," admitted Joone. "I'm not sure I'm ready after all."

"I know." Her human voice somehow sounded more alien to the yijejos when she spoke their language than when she spoke her own.

"Forget," said Majgen, meaning - Forget who you are. "Remember heart, open heart." This message was cryptic to everyone but Joone.

"Listen with my heart. I will listen to my heart, and I will listen with my heart."

"Yes," Majgen said. "Now see heart."

With eyes still closed, Joone reached out to feel Inee empathically.

"He has a warm and gentle touch," Inee informed the others, who were watching with curiosity.

"My heart sees," Joone said smiling happily. "He is beautiful, Maijien."

"I know." Majgen smiled and cuddled closer to her friend's chest. 'I knew you would be able to see it.'

"You are beautiful, Inee," said Joone.

"Beautiful?" Inee was puzzled. "Maybe I was forty years ago. Now I'm just a wrinkly old dried fruit."




Majgen Ch. 018



"Try sixty years ago," added Niinon.

"Try never," clarified Mooje.

"No, you are beautiful now and past both. I see it now. Beautiful inside," insisted Joone.

"You speak with more riddles than an Eieie, Joone. I don't understand what you mean," admitted Inee.

"Show, Joone. Now," instructed Majgen, feeling, 'Now is the time to show him, Joone.'

Attempting to obey, Joone reached out to Inee yet again. He tried to merge with Inee, like he was used to doing with Majgen. But Inee automatically withdrew.

'Slow down, Joone. Slower,' transmitted Majgen.

"I'm sorry, Inee. Please let me try again."

"Go ahead," said Inee, not sure what Joone had tried to do.

Attempting a slower approach Joone returned almost fully to the techniques he was used to from the past.

"You are happy, and you like me," said Inee. "It feels pleasant but not very different."

Withdrawing from Inee, Joone had to admit a partial defeat.

"I could see your way, Maijien. Or rather I could see more with my heart. But I can't show him like you have taught me."

"What a shame," said Inee. "I had become curious."

"Maijien can show you," said Joone, "if you will let her."

"Does she want to?" asked Inee.

"Yes," said Majgen.

Tenderly she reached towards Inee. 'I respect you, Inee.' The emotion was clear.

"She has an incredibly soft touch," said Inee.

'Feel, Inee. See, Inee. I will show you what I see. Later Joone/'The mild and friendly' can show you what he sees.'

"Her emotions are almost as clear as words," said Inee, but then he forgot his surroundings and allowed himself to be pulled in by Majgen's soothing emotions.

'See, Inee, feel. See what I see, feel what I feel, know what I know. You are...' And Majgen showed him, the essence of him that she had perceived so far. 'This is what I see. You should not feel so lonely, Inee. You are so easy to love.'

"Wait!" exclaimed Inee a few minutes later. Withdrawing from contact with Majgen's mind, he raised his mind shield.

"Is something wrong?" asked Joone, worried.

"No," said Majgen, and transmitted to Joone, 'Don't worry.'

"I need some time alone." Inee got to his feet.

In spite of the mind shield, everyone could sense Inee was in immense emotional turmoil, as he left.

"What happened?" asked Mooje. "If your human harmed Inee I am going to make it pay."

"The Winin's human," said Joone, and backed away from Mooje. "This is the Winin's human. Don't even think about hurting her."

Sensing different levels of hostility in the remaining servants, Joone ran from the room, holding Majgen close, desperate to keep her safe - not just for the Winin's sake.

"Don't be afraid," Majgen said in humana. "They wouldn't have attacked me."

"What happened?" asked Joone.

"I showed Inee what I saw."

"What did you see? Why did he run off?"

"Inee needed time alone. He is ok. He just needed time, Joone."

"But why?"

"Maybe he will tell you sometime, Joone."

The servants remaining in the leisure room were tense, worried for First Servant Inee. When half an hour later Inee returned, they all looked at him expectantly, hoping for an explanation. But, Inee offered none.

"I have a lot of vacation due," stated Inee. "Mooje, you will take over my duties while I am gone. I will contact you later and help you with the organisation and help you decipher the schedule I've made in the calendar. A lot of it is written in my personal note system."

"Are you un-well, Inee," asked Mooje, even more worried now.

"No, Mooje, I am good. There are just some things I want to do. I will go pack for travelling now."

Without further explanation Inee left the room.

"Shouldn't you go check on him, Mooje?" asked Niinon.

"I don't know. He is acting so strange," replied Mooje.

A few seconds later Inee returned, with an extra message.

"Mooje."

"Yes, Inee?"

"Take very good care of the human while I am gone. She is very special. Also, I want you to give her a message from me. Will you do that?"

"If you want, Inee."

"I do, Mooje. Please tell her I said, 'thank you'."

Inee turned to leave again.

"Inee."

"Yes?" Inee turned back, looking distant, as if his thoughts were far away.

"Is that the whole message just 'thank you'?"

"Yes, that is the whole message. I'm sure she will understand," Inee said with a little smile, then turned his full attention to Mooje a short moment. "I trust you to take good care of everything, Mooje. I will be back in a day or two." Inee meant yijejoan days of course.

----=(o)=----

"So, tonight is the big night," stated Servant Mooje, grinning at Joone.

"Yes, unless she changes her mind again." Joone fidgeted with his cup. "She might decide the time is not right." He put down the cup, but immediately picked it up again, just to put it down a bit more to the left, and added, "Again."

"Your time will come eventually, Joone," comforted Servant Ene.

"I'd say so too," added First Servant Inee. "The Winin is going to resume the full extent of his duties soon, and then she will truly need someone apart from him. It does seem you are first in line."

The whole household knew Inee would gladly take the special duty too, same as every other member of the steady servant staff, but they also knew that Joone had a very special place in Majgen's heart.

'If Majgen had been a yijejo, I think she would have mated Joone,' thought Inee. 'I wonder why she is taking so long to adjust to letting him do what the Winin does for her. The Winin, after all, is not human either.'

"Do I look ok?" asked Joone.

"No," stated Mooje. "You look like you are about to faint." Mooje's voice was filled with laughter. As his comment added a shade of desperation to Joone's worried expression, Mooje's shoulders started shaking with riots of laughter.

"Don't be so cruel, Mooje," reproached Niinon, but couldn't keep the laughter out of his own voice.

"I'm mated," said Mooje. "I've been there and worse. I can be as cruel as I like."

"I don't think he could be more nervous even if it was a real mating he was facing, though," added Ene. "But really, Joone, stop worrying. It will all be right."

"It has been six days now. I have spent six nights with Maijien now," said Joone. (Six yijejoan days was near fifty human days.) "Yesterday evening, she postponed for the second time. She said she would be ready tonight, but she said that the day before yesterday too. How long will she need?"

At the sound of the service call Joone jumped out of his seat, but had nowhere to head to - yet. The service call was for servants. Mooje was the one who ran to respond.

"Well at least now you will find out if she is truly ready this evening, or not," stated Inee.

"Maybe the Winin just wanted something," said Joone. "It might not be about this."

"Sure, maybe the Winin just wanted something," said Niinon, giggling when he perceived that Joone suddenly wasn't sure that he was truly ready. "If you get second thoughts, you can tell Maijien to call for me instead. I'm not afraid of taking on a new responsibility."

"I'm not having second thoughts."

"Actually, you were," added Inee. Over the last couple of yijejoan days, the perceptivity of the Winin's servants had increased significantly by Majgen's teachings.

"Well, not anymore. I'm ready now."

And so it turned out, was Maijien - the human by the name of Majgen Rahan.

----=(o)=----

Two evenings later, Joone came to work early. He was not meant to wander around in the Winin's home during his off-duty hours, but Joone was always welcome in the servant quarters.

"Hi, everybody," greeted Joone, finding the servants - now his friends - gathered in the shared leisure room. "Quiet evening?"

"Yes," First Servant Inee said, "Nice and quiet."

"Where is Maijien?" inquired Joone.

"With the Winin," replied Mooje. "He took her for a walk in the field."

"Good," said Joone. "I wanted to show you all something, to hear your opinion before I show it to her."

"A gift for Maijien?" asked Servant Ene, feeling very curious.

"Actually, for all of us, if you all think it is appropriate." Joone took a little box out of one of his pockets.

"What is it?" asked Ene, even more curious.

"I'll show you," said Joone, opening the little box.

As he handed the box to Ene, the other servants gathered to look at it over Ene's shoulders. Inside the box was a small appendage, a designed piece of simple jewellery, crafted with an appearance of bronze, silver and gold.

"It looks a bit odd," said Mooje, but added, "unusual, but kind of pretty too. Did you design it yourself?"

"Yes," replied Joone, nervous still, yet also proud of his accomplishment. "A friend helped me convert the design into metal. I am a tailor, not a jewellery designer."

"It is a little heart," said Inee, "a not quite anatomically correct yijejo heart."

"Yes," confirmed Joone. "I wanted something that could symbolise what we have learned from Maijien. Something small, which we could each easily have."

"Like the secret clubs children make?" asked Mooje, and openly felt, 'That was actually a great idea, Joone.'

'Glad you approve,' felt Joone, openly. 'How do all feel?'

'Good/glad/approve,' was the unanimous emotional response.

"If Maijien approves, I can bring one for each of you tomorrow. My friend can make as many copies as I want," said Joone. "He will keep one for himself too. I have taught him the ways."

"I would like one for me, and one for my wife," said Mooje, then added, "Three for my co-mates too. Actually my oldest sons will want one each too I think and, possibly, two of my sisters and..."

"Hold on," laughed Joone.

"Is it too many?" asked Mooje.

"Not if you will settle for cheap materials, Mooje. But, can't you just tell me an amount? I am having trouble keeping track of your list."

"Of course. Give me some time to calculate," said Mooje, and took out his notepad.

"Does anybody else need more than one?" Joone himself needed several. Apart from his pal who crafted jewellery. He had also shown Majgen's teachings to the other tailor designers at the first class tailor design company he worked for - although he was currently at leave to attend his job for the Winin, as pet-caretaker.

"I'll need a moment to calculate too," said Ene.

"Me too," added Inee.

Niinon copied the sentiment.

"I might as well finish my own list, while we are at it, then," said Joone.

After ten minutes, Joone, Ene, Niinon and Mooje's lists had long been ready, but Inee was still scribbling.

"Are you making a list or writing a book, Inee?" asked Mooje.

"Don't rush me. I don't want to forget anyone," complained Inee.

"How many can it be?" asked Joone.

"Hush."

A few minutes later Inee declared himself ready.

"Allright, let's hear it, one at a time," said Joone, ready to note numbers.

"Niinon?"

"I need five."

"Mooje?"

"Thirteen."

"That many? Well you have a mate so of course many to share with," said Joone. "I only need seven myself." Joone went back to the count.

"Inee?"

"I need fifty-eight."

"What?" Joone couldn't believe his ears.

"Fifty-eight."

"Eighteen you mean?"

"No I mean fifty-eight," Inee stated.

"Why that many?" asked Joone. "You can't possibly have had time to teach fifty-eight people in your off-duty hours."

"No, I haven't. I teach four people. They teach their families, and those again teach some more. As far as I can tell the count is up to fifty-eight now," explained Inee. "What about the ones the rest of you teach. Don't they teach it on to others?"

Niinon, Mooje and Ene nodded. Joone swallowed, and nodded too.

"I never thought much of it, though. My friends tell me they show others too, but I have so little spare time; I never got around to asking them about it."

"If my number is fifty-eight from teaching four, your real number is probably a lot higher, since you teach seven," theorised Inee.

"So maybe I ought to tell my friend to make hundreds of hearts?" wondered Joone.

"You could," Niinon said. "Or we could just spread the word that when a person feels they are ready to follow the path of the heart then they can make themselves one."

"The Path of the Heart," said Inee. "Those are good words for it. We should call it that. The Path of the Heart."

----=(o)=----

Majgen too liked the symbol, which Joone had designed, when he showed it to her later that evening, after the Winin had gone to bed.

"It is beautiful, Joone. I would like mine in a chain, so I can wear it around my neck," she said. "It feels special. You, me, Mooje, Inee, Ene and Niinon, this symbol for just the six of us. Our own little club. I've..." Majgen halted as she perceived that Joone had further plans for the heart trinkets.

Closing her eyes, she focused on sensing him, to understand fully.

"I see now," she said, and looked down at the little symbol in her hand. 'This could mean trouble.'

"Why are you sad?" asked Joone.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Joone."

"Why?"

"I am a lone human on enemy ground, Joone. My security relies on the safety of being the pet of a powerful person."

"You are not just a pet to the Winin, Maijien. That is just a cover."

"Exactly. A cover. I live under the cover of being a pet. Now, I've sensed from you that I am part of a club comprising many more than just the six of us."

"Not merely a part. You are the founder. You are the one who made this possible."

"Exactly, Joone. That is what I caught from you. That is how you see it. You consider me a great teacher. You equalise me with one amongst the Eieie." 'Actually more than that. He thinks I've brought something unique.'

"Yes, I think you are unique." Joone wasn't able to grasp why she was worried, but that thought he had caught. "You brought us this, which no one else has. And, your teachings has spread already, to more than I thought. I thought we would have to train under you for a much longer time, before we could begin the work of spreading your teachings."

"And I thought that your dreams of one day spreading what I taught you was just a fleeting thought. A daydream not based on reality," admitted Majgen.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because, Joone, I am not a revelation of wisdom, nor am I a leader. You and I are friends. I showed you something which made your life better, but that doesn't mean that what we share is the foundation of a teaching."

"It is, Maijien. Niinon made up a good name for it too. The Path of the Heart."

"I am not a teacher, Joone. I am just me. You shouldn't go around spreading the word that I am something more."

"But you are. You are Maijien, the Founder of the Path of the Heart. One day that title will bring you great glory. You are our leader."

"No, Joone, I am not anybody's leader. I am the Winin's pet. Don't you understand? If I was more than that my life would be in danger."

"You could never be in danger; the Winin will always protect you. He owes you his life, and he loves you - like I do."

"Aejoa ranks high amongst the Eieie, Joone, but he does not have absolute power. Technically I am a prisoner of war, hence I am according to the law under military jurisdiction. Aejoa has no legal claim on my person. The pet-owning contract is an empty contract -- just a thing to ensure I am not 'stolen' by any random civilian."

"I didn't know that, Maijien," admitted Joone, once the translator was done conveying the political explanation. The two of them still needed to rely on the translator for such technical matters. "But no one would come and take you from the Winin. He is revered by all of Naonun. Beyond he is revered too, because he is a Winin."

"As long as I am a nobody -- an unimportant, insignificant human whose only apparent function is to make the Winin happy -- for that long I am safe," said Majgen. "For that long those in power will be able to forget my existence, will be able to overlook that there are laws against keeping human prisoners in captivity for longer periods."

"You are not in captivity, and I know you don't feel like a captive," said Joone.

"Officially, I am. How I feel about it is not essential to the law. For a human prisoner of war, captured by yijejo forces, there are only two choices for how to treat them after interrogation is complete: Death or extradition to the humans."

'She is speaking Full Truth,' perceived Joone, 'as she always does. But how does she know this? I don't know the laws regarding prisoners of war and I'm a yijejo.'

"I know because Aejoa knows." Majgen did not need to offer further explanations; Joone was well aware how much she could perceive empathically. "Aejoa believes I am safe with him. That no one would ever take me from him. But, Aejoa is not really a politician. The position of the Eieie is steady, well set. They do not play political games, because they do not have to."

"That is not how it is," stated Joone. "The Eieie do not play political games, because they are above such things. They are the guardians of culture and ethics. They are the ones who prevent governments from falling deeply into the filth of political games."

"The Eieie are also responsible for empathic teachings," added Majgen.

"Of course they are," said Joone. "It goes without mention that they are the ones who possess the highest insight."

"Then why do you teach? You are not counted amongst the Eieie."

"I..." Joone halted, confused. "I am not an Eieie. I did not have the empathic strength, nor the confidence to apply for their schools. But, the Eieie do not know of your teachings yet, and your teachings are not so complicated; it doesn't take an Eieie to teach them. The Path of the Heart isn't really teaching. It is merely sharing, showing, seeing. I can't express it in words."

"Yet you call it a teaching, Joone. You refer to it as something magnificent. You refer to me as someone extraordinary, and this you spread to others."

"But it is, and you are. It is how I feel."

"I am happy you love me, Joone. I am happy I have a special place in your heart," said Majgen. "But you should keep your love for me within this home, the Winin's home. Let me remain anonymous and safe, Joone."

"I want to share how I feel about you with the world, Maijien. All of Naonun and beyond. You are my closest friend."

"And I want to remain anonymous and safe, Joone." Majgen cocked her head, listening to many of Joone's emanations at once. "Whose wishes will you respect above the other's, yours or mine?"

'Your wishes of course,' thought Joone, and was surprised to feel relief rise in Majgen at his thought.

"How could you doubt?" asked Joone. "I love you. Of course I wouldn't make decisions against your wishes on your behalf. If you want to remain anonymous, I have no right to decide differently."

"Not everyone feels that way, Joone, but I am very glad you do."

----=(o)=----

Staring intently at the board-game pieces, Majgen tried to grasp the explanation.

"So this set-up is called the Long Harvest, because it opens for three different paths of defensive aggression, which each offers a slow road to victory?"

"Yes, you could say that. If you move the farmers in left centre, however, it transforms into the set-up called Killing Moon. A far more direct attacking formation," explained First Servant Inee.

"I really, really don't like this game, Inee. It's giving me a headache."

"You don't have to be good at it, Maijien. The Winin loves you even though you are a lousy Jeeiouma opponent."

'Aejoa would respect my intellect more if I could beat him at this game without cheating,' thought Majgen. For nearly four human months, she had lived in Aejoa's home, and she still wasn't able to beat him in a fair game of Jeeiouma. Even when starting with thrice as many pieces as him, she hardly ever won.




Majgen Ch. 018



Inee looked at her knowingly. Of Majgen's five students, he had become the most insightful.

'It is bothering you that he has started to forget you are not really a pet.'

"Apart from me, you are the only one who sees that," said Majgen. 'The only one, other than me, who realises that Aejoa thinks of me as a pet.'

"You should confront him," said Inee. 'He will not realise on his own, like you hope.'

"If I beat him in this game, he will."

'You know that is not true,' transmitted Inee.

'Yes, I know,' admitted Majgen, to both herself and Inee. "He is my friend, Inee. I love him, and I miss him when he is away. At least me being better at Jeeiouma will be a nice welcome home gift."

'I love him too,' felt Inee. 'He is my Winin. But, I love/respect/cherish you more.' Inee was uncomfortable with Aejoa's possessive feelings for Majgen. 'You shouldn't spoil him, Maijien. You shouldn't let him hang on to the illusion that you are his property.'

"But I am," stated Majgen. "He has a document that claims so."

"No. Maijien you are your own." 'And you know that too.'

'I know,' felt Majgen.

"I am not ready," she said. 'Not ready for that confrontation - yet.'

Inee moved his shoulders in acknowledgement of her right to make her own decision, and switched to another topic.

"The mate of one of my brothers has trouble adjusting to the Path." 'She yearns for it, but' "something is halting her." Inee, Joone, Niinon, Ene, Mooje, and Majgen as well, often transmitted emotions and skipped parts of their sentences - when communicating amongst each other.

Like for all empaths words themselves did not translate, but the understanding of each other that came with sharing the path made it possible for them to communicate more meanings empathically.

"It is normal," said Majgen. 'All of you have told me of several such occurrences,' "some people seem to have mental blocks." 'If the path is truly for her, I am sure she will find it.'

"I have tried to help her identify the block myself." 'Couldn't find/grasp,' "She is very frustrated." 'Deep longing.'

"And you would like me to help," perceived Majgen.

"Yes," said Inee. 'You see very clearly, clearer than any of us.'

'I can see this means a lot to you, so,' "I will try if I can find the block, if she comes to visit you in the servant quarters."

'Thank you,' felt Inee.

'You are welcome,' felt Majgen.

"So," said Majgen, turning her attention back to the board pieces, "how do I perform a slow harvest with this set-up?"

----=(o)=----

There were several fundamental gifts in Majgen's teachings. One was for a person to learn to open their heart and see others more truly. This was an aspect Majgen mastered by her nature. No one had taught her.

Another gift within the Path of the Heart was a gift of giving; a follower of the Path was able to show what they saw with their heart. A person did not need to be a Follower to receive the gift of giving, did not even have to be an empath. Majgen had once given it to a non-empathic human named Fral. By the nature of her being, Majgen mastered the gift of giving. She taught that gift perfectly too. Yet, in the early months of the Path, none of her students had given that gift to her.

Before learning of the Path, and - indeed - also in the early months, Majgen's followers in the Winin's household were accustomed to considering those of greater wisdom superior to themselves. They were used to believing in the infallible. They were used to believing that those with greater empathic insight were wiser in all accounts of wisdom. This was the cultural trait supporting the reverence of the Eieie.

When Majgen showed the Path to the first students - Joone, Inee, Mooje, Ene, Niinon - they were understandably awed. Receiving the Gift of Giving for the first time was almost always an immense experience. Majgen was the founder, the first. On a subconscious level her students' awe developed to reverence. By cultural habit that reverence blinded them superstitiously when sensing her.

They were unable to allow themselves to see flaws in her, thus were unable to see her truly -- none of them could give her the Gift of Giving. Being the founder Majgen had given the Path to others. But this early, no one had truly given the Path to her. She was still alone in her efforts to understand herself, still alone with her personal insecurity.

The Path of the Heart spread. In the beginning it was slow, as it usually appears at first when something spreads exponentially.

Those who found the Path showed it to their friends and family. Most yijejos grew up in families with three to four parents and five to sixteen siblings. Usually when a yijejo - who did not know of the Path - was introduced to it by a friend, then a few weeks later a jewellery crafter would get an order for multiple small appendages in an unusual design: A flat artistic representation of a yijejo heart viewed from the front. Such customers usually brought an image - or a heart-shaped appendage - for the artist to study and copy.

In the beginning no one realised the spread was exponential. Majgen got time to adjust to the existence of the Path while it was still small. Her previous life had been very humble -- oppressed and demeaning -- and utterly lonely. It was very hard for her to grasp that she had all along unknowingly held this key to understanding between empaths within her.

Amongst those who knew of the Path of the Heart - during its first months - Majgen was the only one who doubted its importance. The others did not understand her doubts. If they had realised she was being denied the Gift of Giving, they would have understood.

Their friendship warmed her, their love strengthened her, but Majgen knew they did not perceive her fully like they did each other.

In the past, Majgen had experienced blindness amongst those who thought ill of her, or amongst those who were frustrated. Now she saw blindness again - amongst those who revered her. Deep down, she was as lonely as any empath not following the Path of the Heart.

Aejoa treated her like a pet, her other friends treated her like an entity of perfection. They all treated her lovingly, however, and, in spite of the hidden emotional conflicts, Majgen was very happy in that early time of the Path.

For months First Servant Inee wondered why Majgen -- or Maijien, as he, the other servants, and Joone called her -- kept postponing a confrontation with Aejoa, regarding his derogatory behaviour. Eventually Inee got used to the situation, and forgot to wonder.

Majgen on the other hand, didn't forget. Although, she didn't truly realise her real reason for postponing. She thought she postponed because she didn't want to hurt Aejoa - the confrontation would be unpleasant. In reality she postponed because his somewhat derogatory attitude offered a counter-weight to the reverence from her other friends.

In a daily life switching between loving demeanour and loving reverence there was an odd -- yet somehow natural -- balance, a strange place in between, where she could feel fairly at ease. At that time in her life, it would have been impossible for Majgen to feel at ease in a life of constantly being worshipped reverently.

----=(o)=----

In Aejoa's home, on planet Naonun, Majgen was trying to draw a sculpture. She had chosen a small simple one. When she felt her missed friend entering the room she immediately dropped the pad and got on her feet.

"Aejoa!" she yelled, running to him, arms stretched out. "I've missed you," she said, as he lifted her up, so she could hug him by putting her arms around his neck. Aejoa, Winin of Naonun, had been away performing Winin-duties for the better part of a yijejoan day.

"Little Human," giggled Aejoa. "How has your day been, Pet?"

"I've been trying to learn to draw. What have you been doing?"

"Just the usual duties," replied Aejoa. 'Mediating boring, but important, complicated negotiations between politicians,' he thought. He didn't, himself, notice that he also felt, 'Far too complex a subject for her to grasp.'

Majgen noticed the emotion, but paid no heed to it. She had taught herself to ignore such sentiments in him.

In the meantime -- On Oaaa, a planet under the same quadro-planetary government as Naonun -- another Winin, too, was about to have a reunion with a loved one.

"One of your siblings has come to visit, Winin." The servant's announcement, surprised Imaun, the Winin of Oaaa. His siblings usually called ahead before coming.

"Which room did you lead our guest to?" asked Imaun.

"The light blue leisure-room, Winin."

"I will call if I need service." Imaun minimised his note pad while getting on his feet. Walking to meet his guest, Imaun wondered who it could be.

His guest turned out to be the sibling he least expected.

"Greetings, Ennan," said Imaun, raising a mind shield to hide his baffled surprise. 'What does he want?'

"Imaun," said Ennan, automatically raising a mind shield of his own, when his brother did.

Suspiciously, Imaun eyed his brother.

'It's been years, since I saw him last,' Imaun remembered. 'Has he gotten into trouble?'

"My brother," said Ennan, lowering his mind shield while a smile grew on his face. "I've missed you, my brother."

'Full Truth,' perceived Imaun, and said, "I wasn't aware that you missed me, Ennan."

"Neither was I, Imaun, until recently." Ennan's expression became serious. "We all have to grow up someday, Imaun. I am just sorry it happened at such a late age for me."

Blinking, Imaun tried to think of a good reply. Usually he always had words of wisdom ready for such deep comments, hearing such a statement from Ennan, however, had been too unexpected.

"Imaun, my brother," said Ennan, and knelt deeply, "my Winin." Lowering his eyes to the floor, Ennan gave a full traditional kneel. The most ceremonious show of respect to a Winin.

"You don't have to bow that ceremoniously, Ennan," said Imaun. "Such ceremony is quite voluntary from those who are not Eieie."

"Yes," said Ennan, and raised his eyes to his brothers face, but remained kneeling. "It is fully voluntary. I kneel to my Winin out of my own free will."

The Winin, Imaun, was quite surprised at Ennan's official recognition of his rank and position, but was even more surprised by Ennan's emotions while doing so. 'He feels absolutely no regret about kneeling to me.' Imaun perceived that easily, since Ennan's mind shield was down.

"I'm sorry for all the years I wasted trying to convince myself I wasn't jealous of you, Imaun," said Ennan.

'Full Truth,' perceived Imaun. 'Everything he says.'

"I was jealous," admitted Ennan, "immensely so, always have been. Since we were kids, I always wanted to be you. When you became a Winin my jealousy exploded out of proportions."

"Have you recovered from it now?" asked Imaun.

"I'd say so, Winin." Ennan rose to stand erect. "I am happy just being me now. I no longer want to be you."

"You don't desire my rank then?"

"Sure I do," said Ennan, and laughed, "Any chance you will give it to me?"

"That's beyond my power, Ennan. You will need to ask the Ojewa."

"Well, since I don't have the Ojewas private communicator in my call list, I'll try to settle with envying your rank, Brother," laughed Ennan.

"I can tolerate envy, as long as it doesn't get out of proportions," said Imaun, still having trouble adjusting to how different the person in front of him was from the brother he remembered.

"I love you, Brother, always have, always will," said Ennan. "More than anything else that was what I came to tell you."

"Just that?" asked Imaun, the words flew out unconsidered. 'Did I just say that?'

"Yes, my brother, just that." Ennan was not offended. He understood Imaun's perplexion over his sudden appearance, understood how baffling his change in attitude had to be for his brother. "I have decided to stay on Oaaa, to live here. I will go ask our parents if I can stay with them a day or two till I have my own place."

"Would you like me to put a word in for you, Ennan."

"No, Imaun. That will not be needed. If they don't want me around I have friends who will have me." Ennan knelt again. "It was good to see you brother. You can call me anytime you feel like talking. I have registered my communicator number in the public files."

Once again Ennan rose to his feet. Imaun found himself to still be speechless.

"We do not need to talk further right now, Imaun," said Ennan. "I hope you will contact me." With that Ennan waved and turned to leave.

"Ennan," called Imaun.

"Yes, Imaun?"

"Would you like to stay for a while, for a hot beverage and a talk?"

"That would be nice, Brother."

----=(o)=----

An afternoon about seven human months after the Winin's rescue from human captivity, Majgen wandered through the servant quarters hoping for company. She had woken from a nightmare, as she regularly did. In one of the shared leisure rooms, she found a stranger sitting in a comfortable chair. Hesitating she eyed him from the doorway.

"Greetings," said the yijejo stranger. His eyes were covered by cloth.

'Who is he?' wondered Majgen, remnants of her nightmare made her slightly anxious.

"You feel like someone who has just woken from a nightmare," said the blind stranger. "Would you like to keep me company? I too, would like company right now."

'He feels like a follower of the Path,' perceived Majgen. Her students had noticed there was a slight difference, small tell-tale signs, that easily discerned those who knew the Path from those who didn't. From them Majgen -- who could not herself leave Aejoa's home to walk amongst people -- had learned of those signs too.

The blind yijejo felt it too - in her. "I can sense you are a follower of the Path, like me," he said, "but I do not understand why you would fear me. I assure you, I am not dangerous."

"Greetings," said Majgen, and entered the room. Slowly she moved to a chair close to the blind stranger.

"Were you scared of talking to me because you talk different?" he asked.

"You could say that, in a round about way, Stranger," stated Majgen. "My reasons to fear you, has to do with the reason why I talk strange."

"I like the sound of your voice." The truth in his words was easily sensed.

Climbing up to the yijejo seating, Majgen remained silent. Even a stranger was a better comfort than solitude.

"You feel unusually lonely for a follower of the Path," said the stranger.

"I shouldn't feel lonely. I have friends now. Friends who love me."

"Yet, you do."

"I don't know why," said Majgen.

"Yes, you do."

"I do, and I don't."

The truth in the duality of her sentence efficiently ended the conversation. For a few moments at least. In silence the two sat, and in the silence Majgen could remember her nightmare far too clearly, so she herself chose to break it.

"What is wrong with your eyes?"

"I had an accident. They were damaged beyond repair." He sighed in exasperation. "The doctors are growing me a new pair, but they say it will be at least three more days before they are ready to be inserted."

Majgen shuddered at the thought of being without eyesight for three yijejoan days (almost twenty-five human days). "You must miss colours horribly," she said, perceiving that he had already been without eyesight a good while.

"I do, and it is very annoying to need aid to get through the day."

"Would you like me to share a memory of the sky with you?"

"That would be wonderful," he admitted. "Please do."

"It will look different than you are used to," said Majgen, and thought, 'For a moment I forgot that he doesn't know I am human.'

"Doesn't it always look different to the eyes of different people?"

"It does," said Majgen. 'Maybe I should retract my offer and leave before he realises I am human.'

"Why do you hesitate again? Why would you fear me?"

"I am the Winin's pet," said Majgen, covering herself in the protection of that role. "You should not harm me, even if you should come to desire so."

"A human?"

"Ei." - Yes.

"I didn't think there was any truth to those rumours," the blind yijejo commented. In the way of the followers he also transmitted, 'I wouldn't have guessed you were human.'

'There is no aggression in him even now that he knows,' perceived Majgen, and relaxed.

"Are the rumours true?" he asked.

"I have not heard the rumours." After saying this Majgen briefly followed his associations of hearing rumours in his emanations.

"Did you protect the Winin from other humans during his captivity?"

"I did my best to do so, Stranger."

'Thank you,' he transmitted in the way of the Path.

"You're welcome." Majgen smiled lightly, emotionally adding, 'It feels strange to be thanked by a stranger, for what I once did for 'one I know well'/'a friend'.'

'I understand,' "Do you feel safer with me now?" He easily perceived she did, and immediately continued, 'Will you 'show me'/share' "the sky" 'now?'

'Yes.'

And she did. The most glorious blue stretching so high, so far, that she had pressed her palms to the table to remind herself that she was not falling up into it.

'Thank you.'

The yijejo reciprocated by showing her a sea. Standing on the beach, he had stood in sand and looked towards the horizon.

'Beauty!' Majgen felt and extended their empathic connection. 'Please let me feel.'

'See and feel with me,' the stranger invited, accepting her request he too reached out entwining his mind with hers, in the manner of the Path.

They were a near middle-aged yijejoan man, bare-footed -- walking slowly -- feeling sand and slight rubble beneath their feet. Looking out at the sea, they saw millions of ripples reflecting millions of tiny sparks of light. They stopped and stood still, felt the breeze rustle their clothes, taking in the endless view of the horizon. They smelled the air, unbelievably fresh.

'May I see you too?' requested the yijejo's emotions.

'Yes.'

They were a twelve year old girl being educated on how to brew and decorate first class drinks, approaching the seemingly mundane task with serious precision and attention.

'Where was your childhood at this time?'

'Long gone.'

'Where/why?'

'Eaten devoured by/disappeared in/lost to the Darkness.'

'What Darkness, where?'

'No.' Majgen's emotional response was adamant. 'We don't go there.'

They were a small girl, playing with their best play-mate -- Inga.

'I feel sorrow connected to this memory. What happened to her?'

'She wasn't amongst the survivors.'

'Survivors of what?'

'We don't go there.'

They were an adult woman, playing in the hallways of the Winin's home with a loved friend.

'This memory is happy.' "Thank you for showing it to me," the stranger said, 'but why do you guide our travel so vehemently?' "Why won't you let it flow?" 'Why won't you let me see your heart?'

"I... " Majgen couldn't explain herself. 'I am afraid.'

"Look at my heart," he offered. "See me in the ways of the Path of the Heart before you decide not to trust me." 'I can feel you have pain inside.' "Let the Path come to you." 'I can see you hold the gift of seeing. Learn to trust me, if you can, then maybe you will let me give you the Gift of Giving.'

"I... " She hesitated yet again.

"Seeing does not scare you. Why hesitate to see my heart?"

'You are right.'

The stranger leaned back, as Majgen opened her senses -- and her heart -- to see who he was. She closed her eyes and let herself feel. The present, the room, herself, for a while everything disappeared from her world, and what existed was the yijejo's life. What it was and what it had been. What he had felt.




Majgen Ch. 018



A good while she stayed there. She would have liked to stay longer, but eventually her body called her back to the present.

'Physical needs,' transmitted Majgen, climbed off her chair and left the room to seek out the human toilet.

"Welcome back," said the yijejo, when she returned a few minutes later.

"Gladly returned," replied Majgen, a standard yijejo reply to the phrase 'welcome back.'

Instead of climbing onto the chair she had sat on previously, she went to stand at the foot of the yijejo's chair. She knew him well now; he was no longer a stranger.

"I'd like to sit with you," she said, and felt, 'I like you.'

"You want to sit with me?" 'Like a toddler?'

"Yes, if you don't mind." 'It comforts me.'

'I don't mind.' "Your request seemed odd."

Majgen climbed up the chair and onto his lap. There she seated herself.

"Do you trust me enough to let me see your heart now?" he asked.

"Yes," Majgen said, and leaned against him. Relaxing, enjoying the warmth of his body, allowing him to see freely. When she sensed him tracking the darkness she stopped following his trek in her mind. She knew him well enough now to allow him to see it, but did not want to see it herself.

Along the way, he did look at the darkness, but he also looked at older and newer. He saw how Majgen had rescued Aejoa, and saw how she now allowed Aejoa to treat her like a pet. But, unlike First Servant Inee, he also saw how she, subconsciously, had lured Aejoa into treating her that way.

'The Winin didn't need much guiding, but a strong confrontation would not have been needed to deter him from it. Milder reproaches would have been sufficient,' concluded the blind yijejo, before his thoughts moved on, 'She sits with me like a little child, draining comfort the only way she knows. The way she remembers.'

He closed his reaching limbs around Majgen, holding her in a comforting hug.

'So much pain, longing and fear. Yet, she loves so severely too,' he thought, while retracting from her mind. 'She has never received the Gift of Giving before.' He hesitated at the notion of being the first to give. 'I don't feel worthy to be the one to do it.'

His thoughts were interrupted by a beeping communicator.

"Excuse me," he said to Majgen, while fumbling to activate his communicator. Once successful he spoke, "Yes?" into the device.

"It's me - Niinon. Are you ok, Juin?"

"Yes, I'm fine," said Juin.

Low Servant Niinon was a friend of one of Juin's relatives. He had jumped in as caretaker for Juin less than half a miui ago, as a last minute temporary emergency solution.

"I didn't mean to leave you alone so long. I'm having trouble with queues here. I can call one of my colleagues and ask if they have time to keep you company." said Niinon's voice. With colleagues he was referring to the Winin's other servants.

"Don't do that, Niinon. I am well as I am."

"You shouldn't be alone for so long, without your eyesight."

"I am not alone, Niinon, the Founder is with me." Juin's words were met with a moment's silence. When Niinon had left Juin, Juin had not known the Winin's pet was the Founder.

"Maijien?" asked Niinon, after regaining his composure.

"Yes, Maijien the Founder."

"You mustn't mention that title to anyone, Juin."

"I won't," promised Juin. "Apart from those who already know -- like you."

"Not to anyone, Juin. Somebody might hear it."

"You sound so worried, Niinon. I don't understand why this upsets you so severely, but I will respect the secrecy."

"Please stay where you are and don't talk to anyone. I am coming back now."

"You don't need to come back now. I won't go anywhere. But I will be talking -- with Maijien."

"Juin..." There was a pause, when Niinon spoke again he was whispering, "Sometimes the Winin comes by the servant quarters looking for Maijien when he gets home. If he comes home early, don't tell him about the Path, and don't reveal that Maijien is the Founder."

"What are you saying, Niinon." 'He can't be serious. He can't expect me to keep secrets from the Winin,' thought Juin. 'Why would he want me to in the first place?'

"Juin, just do as I say. I will explain it later. I can't talk about it where I am now."

"If the Winin asks me questions, I will not refuse to answer, Niinon."

"Juin," interfered Majgen, "tell Niinon not to worry. I will explain things to you."

"Niinon, Maijien says..." Juin was interrupted by Niinon's voice.

"I heard. Let me talk to her."

After a few moments Juin managed to click his communicator to loud-speaking.

"She can hear you now, Niinon."

"Maijien?"

"I'm here," said Majgen.

"Leave the servant quarters. I will explain things to Juin when I get back." Worry was evident in the Low Servant's voice.

"No, I won't leave. I will explain it to him, though. Don't worry Niinon."

"Maijien, do as I say."

"Don't give me orders, Niinon," said Majgen, reproachfully.

"Maijien, please do as I say."

"No."

"Hang on. I will call Inee on another line." Silence followed that statement.

"Maybe you should hang up on him now, Juin," suggested Majgen. "Otherwise he could work himself to a frenzy yelling at us and urging Inee on at the same time."

"If you say so," said Juin, and shut the communicator off.

"I expect Inee will be running in here in moments," commented Majgen, emotionally adding, 'He will be agitated and worried.'

"What is this secrecy all about?" 'You will explain now?'

"There has been conflicts between some of those amongst the Eieie and some of those who follow the Path."

"Conflicts?" asked Juin. 'I have heard of no such thing.'

"Only small things so far, Juin, but they are worrying. There has been incidents of Followers openly offending people with posts within the Eieie. Supposedly a few followers of the Path has claimed that the Path of the Heart will make the Eieie obsolete," explained Majgen, "have even gone as far as to claim that the Eieie are a reminiscence of an ignorant time, that their order will soon be dissolved."

"Followers actually said that?"

"So far my friends have managed to track one Follower who had said similar things. They are not sure there are more, but they suspect it." There was sadness in Majgen's voice, and emotions upon speaking those words. "Since then they have worked hard to gather those who follow the Path; to control how it spreads; to keep track of who the followers are, and most of all to spread the word amongst new followers that the Path of the Heart is not an underground youth rebellion of sorts."

"It makes you sad," commented Juin. "The notion of youths degrading the Path to be a political issue saddens me too."

"I am also sad because..." Majgen was interrupted by Inee's dramatic entry.

First Servant Inee had moved down the hallway outside the room at his maximum yijejoan speed, he jumped onto the side of the doorway to the room, stemming against it with his feet, to stop his momentum -- in the direction of the hallways end. From there he instantly jumped into the room, before gravity could pull him down from the impossible horizontal kneel. He landed safely on his feet -- in a crouching position -- a good way into the room, and ran to Majgen and Juin.

Suspiciously, Inee eyed the blind stranger holding Majgen.

"Let go off her, very gently," instructed Inee, and reached his own limbs out, intending to take the human into the safety of his own hold.

"Keep your limbs to yourself, Inee. I am fine where I am," countered Majgen.

Juin moved most of his reaching limbs, partially complying with Inee's wishes, but kept some of his left reaching limbs against Majgen's back and side, complying with her wishes.

Inee lowered his own reaching limbs.

"Aren't you the one who always tells the others not to make footprints on doorways and walls?" Majgen asked Inee.

Automatically Inee glanced back towards the doorway and then lifted one of his feet, bending it to look at the sole. Then he shook himself out of the distraction.

"Maijien, you shouldn't talk to strangers all alone," he chided, emotionally adding, 'You are so small/fragile/exposed.'

"I am also an adult, perfectly able to make my own decisions." Majgen's irritation was evident. In this household only the Winin could get away with treating her like a child without rebuttal.

"You need not be so distressed," Juin addressed the still panting yijejo - Inee. "I would never harm her."

"Niinon told me that you knew that..." Inee refrained from finishing the sentence, in case Niinon had been mistaken.

"I know that Maijien is the Founder, yes," confirmed Juin. "She allowed me to see her freely."

"You must keep that knowledge secret," said Inee.

"I was explaining it to him before you interrupted us," said Majgen. "You really do not need to worry so, Inee. The Winin won't be home for hours. Sit with us, Inee. Unless, you want to get back to work?"

They were interrupted yet again, this time by Inee's communicator. Niinon was calling to hear if Inee got hold of Majgen yet. To the best of his abilities Inee calmed himself and Niinon, and convinced the Low-Servant to get back to his shopping duties. During the call, Inee seated himself on the chair Majgen had occupied earlier.

"Niinon is still worried but calmer now," Inee informed while tucking his communicator away.

"You are calmer too," Majgen said with a smile.

"Yes."

"I still do not understand why you are all so worried about this secret. I think it is wonderful that a human is the Founder," said Juin. "As the Path spreads it can bring more understanding between our species."

"The thing is," began Majgen, "the Winin doesn't know I am the Founder of the Path of the Heart. The Winin is not a follower and is not aware his servants are. He has heard of the Path in reports from lower ranking Eieie, and what he has heard has been negative."

"Surely, you don't believe the Winin will harm you if he finds out?" asked Juin, puzzled.

"No, the Winin would never hurt me," Majgen said with confidence. "He loves me. But the Winin answers to the Ojewa."

'Do you think,' "the Ojewa" 'would harm you/Maijien?' Juin asked with a mix of words and emotions, in the way of the Followers.

"Yes," replied Majgen.

"No," Inee replied simultaneously.

A few seconds' silence ensued.

"Maijien believes the Ojewa would harm her, would have her locked away or killed," Inee explained. "Maijien comes from a world where politics are different, more cynical."

"I don't believe yijejoan politics are as innocent as my friends think they are," added Majgen.

"We do not believe the Ojewa would harm her," continued Inee, "but Maijien's legal status is fragile. By law she is not meant to be here, not meant to be alive. We fear that if -- even for a moment -- she should be considered an obstructive element, a negative political force, then she might be extradited to the Allied Forces."

"And if that happens then I will die," Majgen added, "or worse - die slowly."

"In reality, Maijien is still a human prisoner of war," explained Inee, "according to the law she must either be killed or extradited to the humans."

"You should tell the Winin this, so he can work on making her legal situation more secure," stated Juin.

"We never realised she would need a more secure legal position. We never realised she could get in trouble for being the Founder of the Path. We honestly never thought the Path could be viewed as an obstruction to civilian peace and order by anyone."

'I told you all it would give me trouble.' Majgen's thought was easily perceived by both yijejos.

"As soon as we have the spreading of the Path under control -- and can show the Eieie the Path is a gift and not a threat -- we will inform the Winin that Maijien is the Founder, and ask him to secure her legal situation," explained Inee.

"I understand," said Juin. "The Ojewa and the Winin, I knew they couldn't be the threats. But now I understand how you could fear them knowing." With the matter of secrecy settled Juin changed the subject, "Maijien, will you let me show you what I saw?"

'In me?' asked Majgen, wordlessly.

'Yes.'

"Yes," she confirmed. 'Show me.'

----=(o)=----

"I have some time off duty today," said Imaun, "I would like to spend it with you, Brother."

"That sounds wonderful, Brother," said Ennan, smiling to his brother -- the Winin of Oaaa -- through the audio-visual communication. "When would you like to meet up?"

"Mother told me you are going to a gathering of the Heart today. I want to come with you." Imaun noticed how his brother's smile dissipated at those words.

"We can go someplace else, together. I don't have to go to this gathering," said Ennan. "We can go see a show. I've heard there is a really good dramatisation of the Legend of the Moonlight Dancers running in a northern town." It was painfully evident that Ennan was trying to not sound disappointed to miss the gathering.

"I want to go with you to the gathering," repeated Imaun.

Ennan studied his brother's image on the communicator, trying to read his emotions from his body language. Standing absolutely still, staring back, Imaun didn't offer an easy interpretation.

"Why?" asked Ennan, abandoning his attempts to guess the answer.

"I want to know what such a gathering is."

"At a gathering of the Heart people meet up to mind-share, Brother, and to meet new people to mind-share with," explained Ennan.

"Well, I want to come with you," said Imaun. All their parents and siblings had been to gatherings of the Heart. Only Imaun had never been invited to come, so now he was inviting himself.

"Let's talk about it in person, Brother," requested Ennan.

----=(o)=----

Alone, Majgen walked in the garden. She had a lot to think about, so many things she had not thought about before. She also thought of many things she had thought about before - but now in different ways.

'I am not dirty. My needs and desires are not dirty, even if they came to be through dirty acts.' Majgen stopped walking, closing her eyes she let the breeze be her company. 'I don't have to hate my body. No matter what has been done to me through it, it is still mine. I don't have to disrespect myself. No matter what others have felt about me, I am still me.'

She opened her eyes again and took in the green around her. 'The park where I spent the last afternoon with my parents, it was green too,' remembered Majgen. 'All these years, I've desperately clung on to those memories. Always thinking the time before the massacre was the happy days of my life, that I would never be so happy again.

'It is time to let go, time to grow up. I will always remember you, Mum and Dad. I will never forget your love. But, it is time for me to realise that my life doesn't have to always be a shadow of the life I lost so long ago.' Allowing her eyes to wander to the horizon, Majgen noticed how low the sun was. 'Sunset is approaching. Evening is near. Soon, Joone will come.'

Aejoa - the Winin of Naonun - had called her and told his duties had drawn him off planet, that he would not be coming home tonight. Majgen had been relieved. After Juin had shown her what he saw, she needed privacy - time alone to think of what she had learned about herself.

'With Aejoa's love and friendship I learned to not hate the treatment for my Brakwan syndrome. I learned to accept it, as a not completely unpleasant necessity. I learned to accept it from Joone too. But all along, I never stopped thinking of it as 'treatment', never stopped thinking of my sexuality as an ailment. A chronic disease which I would rather be without.'

Majgen turned her eyes to the sky. Having spent so many years without a sky to look upon, she would never take its glory for granted.

'I understand the Path now. It was always within me, but I never really understood before. Tonight I will show Joone. He is ready for it too. His heart will open the last notch and he will be able to see me truly. Once he sees me as me -- not as simply as Maijien the Founder -- I will be able to accept his love freely.

'I think that then I will be ready to ask him to stop treating my Brakwan's syndrome, and instead make love to me.' A feeling of unease distracted Majgen's thoughts of loving Joone physically. 'Aejoa would be jealous to learn that I wish for Joone to be the first to make love to me, rather than just treating me.' The distinction Majgen made was not in physical acts; a yijejo and a human could not have sexual intercourse.

'I have to stop thinking of myself as Aejoa's property. He is my friend, not my owner. He is not even my mate.' As an afterthought, Majgen added a human term, 'Nor my spouse.'

Majgen closed her eyes and lowered her head. 'I can't really blame Aejoa for thinking of me as his property. Not when even I have trouble not thinking of me that way. In a way it was easy to lean back and let go off my responsibility for my own life. I'm so used to that. First I was a child. Then I was a mentarion student. Back then I had no choice to be my own master, no amount of rebelliousness could ever have freed me from that bind.

'Now I have a choice, and I no longer want to be a subservient shadow. No matter that it might be difficult for Aejoa to adjust to letting me be simply a friend.

'It is time for me to grow up.'

Majgen opened her eyes again and resumed walking. 'Maybe I should postpone making love a while? Till Aejoa has learned I am not his property? At that time, I will probably be able to make love with Aejoa too.' A knot grew in Majgen's stomach, the sensation made her realise she was lying to herself. 'What is it I am not letting myself see here?'

Walking in the garden, she tried to figure it out. When later the sun began to set, Majgen still hadn't figured out what it was she didn't understand.

She enjoyed the amazing view of the sunset, but stepped inside before it got dark. As much as she loved the blue sky, the dark sky intimidated her. Even when there were stars, the black in between them was terrifying.

Joone sought her out as soon as he came on duty. He found her in one of the Winin's leisure rooms, deep in thought on a seat. He walked to her quietly, to not disturb. Majgen felt his presence, of course. Joy bubbled in her from feeling him near, and she raised her head to look into his amber eyes.

'I could spend hours looking into those eyes,' she thought, and realised what she hadn't dared understand. 'Aejoa is my friend. I care for him deeply -- I love him. But, I don't love Aejoa the way I love Joone.'

----=(o)=----

'Why does this worry him so much,' wondered Imaun - Winin of Oaaa, observing his brother Ennan, who stared out the window of Imaun's luxurious vehicle. 'He has so openly shared it with all the others. Why not me?'

The two brothers sat in silence. Both had mind-shields up, as if they had not reconciled months ago.

Ennan broke the silence when the Winin's driver started landing the vehicle. "I can't promise they will let us in, Brother. This gathering is scheduled to be Followers only."

"I'm sure they will make an exception for the Winin," Imaun commented with confidence. "An underground association for mind-sharing between amateurs. I am sure they will be happy for this chance to be educated by one so high amongst the Eieie."

Ennan's face contorted somewhat as he withheld a displeased sound. 'Imaun has no clue what the Path is. It is my fault. I should have shown him. Just never could figure out how.




Majgen Ch. 018



'The Path is so new on Oaaa. After the issues with the Eieie on Naonun, we wanted a clean start here -- a steady well-controlled basis before communicating with the Eieie. The Eieie doesn't even know we have started spreading the Path on Oaaa. Now I am bringing a Winin. I should have spent more time explaining the Path to my brother, before he started feeling neglected.'

After landing the vehicle, the driver - one of Imaun's servants, stepped out and opened the door for the Winin of Oaaa and his brother.

"It doesn't look like much," commented Imaun, looking at the building. "I thought it would be adorned with that symbol you use. The heart."

"We don't advertise," explained Ennan, and lead the way to the entrance.

The outer door was unlocked. Imaun followed Ennan through it into a small lobby, where a solitary Follower of the Path stood guard. Upon seeing the Winin the guarding Follower immediately raised his mind shield and knelt respectfully.

"Greetings," said Imaun, "I have come to attend your gathering."

"I will not deny the wishes of my Winin," replied the door guarding Follower, and opened the door for Imaun and Ennan. The two brothers entered, and Ennan lead the way to the common hall.

"That was a strange comment he made. As if he wasn't happy that I've come." Imaun turned his eyes to his brother. "Like you aren't happy that I am coming."

Ennan stopped walking, to face his brother fully. "Brother, I have not truly explained to you what the Path of the Heart is."

"What is it then?"

"It is..." Ennan found himself at a loss of words, but tried after all. "The Path is like finding something which you never realised was missing. Like finding what you have always been looking for."

"That sounds a bit cryptic, Brother. Maybe you are trying to tell me that these gatherings allows the people meeting to drown their loneliness?"

"Brother." Ennan stepped closer to Imaun and lowered his mind shield. He raised his reaching limbs to hold his brother's shoulder while looking into his face. "It could be said that simply too. With other Followers I am never alone. But the Path is also inside myself. It is understanding. It is seeing and feeling."

Imaun studied his brother's emotions and lowered his own mind shield. "If this makes you so happy then why are you so sad, Brother?"

"Because I have been unable to share it with you, my own brother. Imaun, I can't begin to tell you how much I love you, and yet I have been unable to give the Path to you."

"You don't have to tell me that you love me, Ennan. I can feel it." Imaun reached out to pull his brother into a hug. "You couldn't hide your love for me even if you tried, Brother," Imaun whispered into his brother's ear.

The two brothers reached out to each other empathically to hug with their minds too. Imaun in the well-trained manner of the Eieie, Ennan like a Follower of the Heart.

"Please let me show you, Brother," begged Ennan.

The intensity of Ennan's emotions tore at Imaun's long practised empathic discipline. The love and need Ennan felt. The sorrow that filled Ennan at this distance between them. A distance which Imaun himself couldn't define, but sensed his brother understood.

'I love you,' thought Ennan. 'Please, Brother, let me show you.' Ennan started crying, while hugging his brother - the Winin.

"Ennan, what is wrong?"

'Please!'

The love Ennan felt for him, cracked through Imaun's empathic discipline, and finally Imaun relaxed and let his brother's emotions wash over him.

'I remember,' felt Ennan, and took Imaun to the past.

#

They were a small boy, their adored older brother was playing with them. Their older brother had thought up a great game, but what mattered more than anything was that he gave them his full attention.

'My brother is the bestest brother in the universe,' thought the small boy, and looked into his older brother's eyes with worship.

#

"You don't know anything! Nothing! Don't try that with me, don't act like you know anything better than me!" ranted the boy, mind shield raised he attacked his brother Imaun verbally. "Ever since the Eieie took you in you've been acting like a retard. I don't know why they don't kick you out of that school. I really don't."

"ENNAN!" yelled one of the boys' fathers, preparing to scold the boy.

Rather than face one of his parents as well as his brother the boy ran from the room, and through the house till he reached the front door. He threw it open and ran on, as fast as he could. He was crying so hard he could barely breathe. Yet, he kept running till his legs gave in under him. Where he fell he cried into the dirt, feeling alone, all alone.

#

"Ennan," his brother said to him, gentle as ever, "it doesn't have to be this way." He looked at him with those gentle understanding eyes. "We are brothers."

'He still thinks he is better than me,' thought the young man. 'The wise Eieie. I can't believe they made him a Winin.' "Don't talk to me! You are not my brother, I denounce you!" He stared into Imaun's eyes, feeling anger and hatred bubbling within himself, knowing full well Imaun would be able to feel that in spite of his mind shield. "I can only wish and hope you die soon, Imaun," sneered the young man, "so Oaaa can get a proper Winin."

"Enough, Ennan!" said Imaun.

"Enough, or what?" asked Ennan. "Are you going to report me for insolence towards an Eieie? Inappropriate behaviour beyond civilian lenience? Want to get me flogged, Brother?" He spat out the last word as if it was vile to him.

Imaun simply turned his back, and left.

'Brother?' Immense regret rose inside Ennan, now that is brother was out of his sensing range. But he denied it. "WORTHLESS BUGBRAIN, I HOPE YOU ROT BEFORE WINTER," he screamed it with all his might, to convince himself he meant it. Less than a miui later he left Oaaa, determined to never see any of his family again, especially Imaun.

#

Returning their minds to the present, the two -- now much older -- brothers wept, holding each other tight.

"Don't ever leave me again, Ennan," whispered Imaun. "Please don't ever leave me again."

"I never stopped loving you," whispered Ennan.

"I remember that day too," whispered Imaun. 'Those words hurt so immensely. I cried for hours when I got home.'

The two brothers never joined that gathering they had gone to. They withdrew to one of the smaller rooms to talk about, and share, the past. Along the way Ennan shared with Imaun, the Path of the Heart.

*

Copyright of Nanna Marker

You all really spoiled me with comments and feedback after chapter 017. Thank you so much all. It made me very happy.

I am still not done with fixing the errors my primary beta-reader found in 021. Still hoping I will be able to get it ready before 019 and 020 are up. 



Majgen Ch. 019



Warning! Work in progress, the full book-series is not yet finished (unless my profile states otherwise). Agonising waits in between chapters is a very real risk!

Copyright of Nanna Marker

*

----=(Love and Legends)=----

"Morning greetings, Little Human," said Aejoa.

"Morning greetings, Aejoa," returned Majgen, and yawned sleepily.

"You just woke up?" guessed Aejoa, studying her sleepy appearance on the viewer.

"Ei," - yes, Majgen replied during a second yawn. "Inee told me you had called while I was sleeping."

"I just wanted to tell you that I will be home before nightfall today. I promise."

"That sounds nice, Aejoa. What time?"

"In two or three miui." - Forty to sixty human hours. "We have wrapped things up here now. Just more, and less, official courtesies left to be completed."

"I look forward to your return," said Majgen, with a smile that faded too quickly for the Winin's liking. "Aejoa, when you get home there are things I want to talk through."

"Which things?" Aejoa tried to be cheerful. He usually loved talking with Majgen, but for some reason he was reminded of the nightmare that had woken him this morning. It was a recurring nightmare. He had dreamt it many times in different versions since his rescue from the humans.

"I would rather talk about it in person," said Majgen. 'It would be easier to talk about it long range than face to face, but I don't think it would be fair to him.'

'She looks sad,' thought Aejoa, wishing they were in the same room so he could sense her. "Give me some hints?"

'Should I?' wondered Majgen. 'Maybe it will be easier for him too if he is not face to face with me? But, then, what should I tell him first?'

"You don't need to hesitate, Little Human. You can tell me anything; I am your friend."

"There are many things I want us to talk through."

"Well, start talking. I'm listening," offered Aejoa, getting his unease under control.

"Sometimes you treat me like a pet. I want you to stop doing that."

"What? I don't..." Aejoa wasn't sure what to say. Her statement had caught him by surprise.

"You do," insisted Majgen. "You don't mean to, and I should have told you much sooner. I'm sorry I didn't."

"But, I really don't treat you that way. You are my friend, Little..." Aejoa changed his mind about calling her Little Human. "Maijien, I thought you liked my nickname for you." That was the first time Aejoa had ever called her Maijien like the others did.

"I did, Aejoa, and maybe I still do. I'm not sure." Majgen went quiet, and so did Aejoa. He just looked at her.

'Does he have to look so hurt?' thought Majgen. 'Of course he does. He is hurt.' "I'm really sorry I didn't tell you this sooner, Aejoa. I don't blame you for it. I should have told you long ago, should have given you a chance to rectify the situation earlier."

"Rectify," repeated Aejoa. 'After all this time, she tells me there is something to rectify.' "What else, Maijien?" He spoke in a cold tone which he had never used with Majgen before.

"Let's speak of it when you get home. These are not matters to talk of long range."

'Matters,' noticed Aejoa. 'Not matter. More than one problem and she never told me.' "Tell me now," he demanded.

"When you get home," promised Majgen.

"Do you expect me to drop everything to get home earlier, Maijien? Or do you expect me to artificially smile my way through the next miui of diplomatic courtesies, while wondering what my house guest - my friend - has been keeping from me all this time?" Anger shone through the cold tone.

"I'm sorry. Please don't be so angry with me. I didn't mean to hurt you." Majgen fought to hold back tears. 'I never wanted to hurt you, Aejoa. Never.'

"No? What am I to you, Maijien? A necessary evil? Someone you have to adhere to in order to be protected?" Aejoa spoke the words as a provocation. He knew she loved him.

"You are my friend," said Majgen, "not a necessary evil."

"Then show me some respect and tell me what else you have kept from me."

"It hurts when..." Majgen began, but stopped talking mid-sentence. 'We shouldn't do this long range.'

"When what?"

'His voice sounds so cold,' thought Majgen, 'so angry. Aejoa never talks to me that way.' A tear escaped her eyes and started rolling down her cheek. Majgen wiped it off, but Aejoa had noticed and softened.

"When what?" repeated Aejoa, softer. 'The way I exploded right now, maybe I shouldn't be so harsh on her for not speaking of things sooner.'

"It hurts when you treat me like I'm stupid, Aejoa."

"I don't think of you as stupid."

"Actually, you do. You consider me unable to understand your work. Every time I ask about your day, you evade with a silly remark instead of replying. Whenever I have a different opinion than you, you think I am not sufficiently intelligent to understand your opinion."

'I am smarter than her, but that doesn't mean I think she is stupid,' thought Aejoa. 'But, maybe I've let it affect me a bit too much, along the way.' "I will try to treat you with more respect, Maijien. I never intended to make you feel stupid," decided and said Aejoa.

"Thank you."

"What else bothers you?" Aejoa's voice was gentle again. He had forced his anger away.

"Do we have to go over everything right now?"

'Everything? How many things could it possibly be?' wondered Aejoa. "I think we should try at least. Let me know the next thing."

"You are very possessive about me, Aejoa." Majgen paused a second before adding. "Jealous."

"I'm not jealous," laughed Aejoa. "Honestly, Little Human. You sound as if we were engaged. Sorry, I meant Maijien. I might take a while to learn to call you that, but I promise I'll try. Why should I be jealous? We are friends, no more, no less. You are human, and I am yijejo; we could never mate."

He studied her serious face on the viewer, and started talking serious again. "In the beginning, right after I was rescued, I had a very difficult time, Maijien. I might have been a little jealous back then, overprotective too. I often had nightmares back then. Holding you close always reminded me that I was safe, that I had been rescued."

"I know." Majgen studied Aejoa's body-language.

'You don't have to believe.' Uninvited, the words popped into Aejoa's thoughts. Majgen almost always said that in his nightmares, the moment before she would get hurt. In this morning's nightmare the Majgen in his dream had said, 'Don't be afraid. You don't have to believe.' To that the dream version of himself had said, 'But I do believe.' He almost always replied that when Majgen in his dreams said he didn't have to. Right after saying that, in the nightmare, he had broken her neck and had woken with a scream.

"I still have those nightmares sometimes," admitted Aejoa.

"I know. I've seen them in your memories."

"I didn't know." Learning she knew, made Aejoa uncomfortable.

Majgen read his discomfort from his body-language. "They are just dreams, Aejoa. You would never do such things to me."

"Why didn't you tell me you knew?"

"You never wanted to talk with me about those dreams, so I didn't bring it up," explained Majgen. "Knowing that they bother you so much, maybe I should have. I know where the words come from. The ones I often say to you in the nightmares."

"You do?" Aejoa had never thought so.

"In the interrogation chamber on the human ship, when I convinced you to co-operate with me, those were the words behind my thought. I thought them in humana and transmitted the emotion to you."

"What did you think?" asked Aejoa, to be sure they were talking of the same thing.

"I thought, 'You don't have to believe,' " Majgen said in yijejoan. Aejoa's breathing stopped. He felt like his heart had stopped beating and his blood had stopped flowing. He stared at her. A part of him expected that she would drop dead. When instead she spoke on, his breathing resumed.

"You weren't ready to believe, and you needed to play along. Else they would realise I hadn't killed you. So I tried to make you understand that you didn't have to believe."

"I don't remember," said Aejoa. "The time in that place is still a blur to me."

"You were heavily drugged, Aejoa. You were in a blur."

"I'll always be thankful that you kept me safe till I was rescued."

"You rescued me too." Majgen smiled at him. The smile warmed Aejoa even a solar system away. He smiled back.

"And almost lost you again." Aejoa's smile dissipated as he spoke that sentence. "That might also be a reason I was so jealous at first. I was still afraid of losing you back then. But, Maijien, time has passed. Things are different now. Steady. I'm not jealous anymore."

Trying to remember the last time she had sensed jealousy in Aejoa, Majgen started doubting her estimate of his jealous tendencies. She couldn't remember exactly when she had last sensed it. 'I thought it was recently, but maybe it was just a hunch not something I sensed.'

"It is a relief to hear you say that," admitted Majgen, after convincing herself she had been wrong about his jealousy. "It has been silly of me not to talk this openly earlier."

"You should know you can talk to me about anything." Aejoa sounded hurt that she hadn't. "We are friends, Maijien. Please tell me more of these things you have hidden. Let us get it out in the open. I don't want secrets to keep us apart."

"There is something which I've kept from both you and me, Aejoa. Didn't realise it until yesterday." Majgen was determined to be fully truthful with her friend.

"What did you realise?" asked Aejoa with a new smile.

"I found out that I am in love."

"With a yijejo?" asked Aejoa, his smile started to feel like a frozen mask of plastic, but it wouldn't go away. On the viewer, however, it looked natural.

"Yes."

"Who?" Aejoa's smile didn't waver, even though his face no longer felt like a part of his body. 'Why am I asking? It is me. It has to be me. It can't be anyone else than me! She couldn't possible be in love with...'

"Joone," said Majgen. For half a second she smiled. Then, her smile faded as she noticed Aejoa's face contorting around his smile.

Aejoa didn't see her smile fade, he didn't see anything his eyes told him. His vision had darkened, but he didn't notice. All he noticed was a roaring pain somewhere deep within. It ripped him apart from the inside. He closed his eyes and screamed. At first he didn't hear the scream. When he finally did -- after emptying half of his lungs -- he stopped screaming, opened his eyes, and turned off the communicator.

'Aejoa?' thought Majgen. 'What have I done?'

Majgen called him again, but Aejoa didn't answer. She kept trying, but it was to no avail. The Winin of Naonun had closed his communicators for all in-going calls. In desperation Majgen convinced Inee to contact the Eieie and have them send a servant to check on the Winin.

Some hours later they got a message back that the Winin did not wish to be disturbed.

In a worried frenzy Majgen tried to convince First Servant Inee to have them check on him again, or to make them tell more. But, faithful to the Winin, Inee refused, explaining that even a Winin had a right for privacy.

After that Majgen managed to stay quiet, for about a tenth of a miui (about two human hours). Then she tried to push Servant Mooje into doing something.

"Maijien, no. The Winin has a right to be left alone when he so desires." Mooje was immovable.

"Aren't you the least bit worried?" shrieked Majgen. 'He could get hurt!'

"No, I am not worried, Maijien. The Winin is not in danger."

"You didn't see him. He is hurting," sobbed Majgen. "It was horrible. He screamed, Mooje. Screamed!"

"I am very sad that the Winin is upset. I wish I could ease his pain. But, the only thing I can do for him is to respect his wishes."

"You don't understand. He might hurt himself. Please do something."

Mooje knelt and picked Majgen up to hug her tight for comfort.

"He will not hurt himself, Maijien. No matter how hurt he is. He is the Winin of Naonun. Winins do not hurt themselves, no matter how sad they are."

'I don't believe you.' Majgen's thought was evident. She shivered with anxiety on Aejoa's behalf.

"I believe me," stated Mooje. "Everything will be well, Maijien. He just needs time."

'It's my fault. It's all my fault,' felt Majgen.

"You can't help how you feel. To fall in love cannot be forced. It either happens or it doesn't. The Winin knows this too. I am sure he will not blame you for the pain he feels now."

"But I do love him," sobbed Majgen. 'Just not the way I love Joone.'

"I know," hummed Mooje. "I know, I know."

----=(o)=----

Aejoa was alone, all alone. He needed the solitude to get his mind straight.

'She is in love with Joone. I lost to an Apprentice Tailor. A simple apprentice. The pet-watcher. She was mine. The Little Human was mine, all mine, and then I hired him. Why did I hire him? I knew I shouldn't hire him. I felt it.' His reaching limbs rustled with his aggravation.

'Why did I call her Little Human for so long? He was the first to ask her name. I should have done that. I have known her the longest. He was only meant to make her some clothes, and then he went right ahead and asked her name.' "Her name was none of his business!" Aejoa started pacing the room. 'It hurts so bad. I thought she was mine, and then she tells me she is in love with HIM.'

"I should beat him till he begs for mercy, the sneaky creep. Show him what you get when you mess with your employer on an Eveee contract." - Eveee had once meant old fashioned, now it was a standard term for traditional contracts between the Eieie and service employees. Aejoa had never taken the full liberties of an Eveee contract upon any of his employees.

Even though he knew it would be wrong of him to beat Joone, over Majgen's love -- even though he knew he wouldn't do it -- Aejoa revelled in fantasies of what it would be like. 'He would scream and squeal. Wiggle and plead for mercy, in between cursing me and wishing death upon me.'

"Yes, that would feel good, to see him degraded like that. He would act just like I did before Maijien..." Aejoa went quiet and started weeping. 'Just like I did before Maijien rescued me.'

"I don't even know how she pronounces her own name," whispered Aejoa. 'All I know is that they call her Maijien, and that Maijien resembles her own name.' "I should have done more to earn her love. WHY DIDN'T I DO MORE!" 'Should have tried harder to earn her love.'

"I knew he was a threat. Deep down I knew it." 'His eyes always trailed her as if he was a lovesick...' "Lovesick. He loves her. He worships her." 'He won't deny her love. He will cherish it forever, the rest of her life. He won't deny her. She won't come running back to me with a broken love.'

"He had all the nights with her, the whole night, every night. Gave her his full attention." 'And what did I do? I forced her to play Jeeiouma.' "She hates Jeeiouma!" 'It is not too late, a woman can have several mates. Maybe she will fall in love with me too.'

"Maijien is a human. How many mates do human females take?"

'Usually humans mate in pairs of two. Mostly one male and one female.' Aejoa had trouble breathing after remembering the Doctor's words. Merely one out of hundreds of titbits of information about humans. Just another seemingly unimportant detail, which the ship physician had told him of while he travelled home from the War Zone with his Little Human.

'One chance, I only had one chance. And I wasted it. I...' Aejoa took a rasping breath, forced it into his lungs and screamed.

"I thought she was mine," he whined after having had to breathe again.

----=(o)=----

For two yijejoan days Majgen and Aejoa's servants heard nothing from Aejoa. When on the third day he finally gave word, it was just that - words. With a note the Winin of Naonun informed his household that he would be away from home for ten more days at least.

'Eighty-three human days,' calculated Majgen, after Servant Mooje read the note to her. Sometimes she still translated yijejo time measures to human, to get a proper feel for time frames. 'Does he intend to stay out of touch for that long too?' In the past two yijejoan days, she had adjusted to the fact that she couldn't and shouldn't try to save Aejoa from his heartache.

'Love can be cruel,' she thought. A part of her still wished she loved Aejoa the same way she loved Joone, so Aejoa wouldn't have to go through this.

"I too am sad the Winin is upset, Maijien," said Mooje. "Broken love is a hard part of life. Did you know my mate was not the first woman I fell in love with?"

"Ei," - yes, replied Majgen, transmitting, 'I've seen.'

"For men broken love is a very regular part of life. Many of us never get a mate to rescue us from that returning agony. The Winin is a wise man. He will take the time he needs to recover from it. Afterwards, I am sure your friendship can continue."

"Thank you for the soothing words, Mooje." Majgen reached her arms up to him. "You are headed outside for gardening," she had perceived. "Let me keep you company while you work."

'I would like that,' transmitted Mooje and picked her up.

Most of the gardening work on Aejoa's property was performed by gardeners, not servants. Servant Mooje had experience and skill for tending to a certain breed of flowering plants, though, and liked that work too. Majgen had no particular fondness for gardening, but through Mooje's enjoyment of the task, she enjoyed it too. Especially since her part in the work was merely to keep him company at safe distance from fertilisers, soils and plants -- all of which were toxic to her.

Majgen learned more about gardening flowers in general -- and Mooje's favourite breed in particular -- than she would ever need. The mundane topics of conversation were rather pleasant in the sunlight. After an hour, however, when Mooje had been quiet a few seconds, Majgen changed the subject.

"I am ready to start taking a more active part in spreading the Path now, Mooje."

"Are you ready to lead us now?" he asked.

"No, I will not lead, but I do want to help."

'You should lead us.' Mooje's emotion was evident, even though he didn't transmit it.

"I want to help people. I don't want to be a leader, never did."

"What would you prefer to do for the Path then, Maijien?"

"Let me help some of those who yearn for the Path," said Majgen, and transmitted, 'Those who search for it but have trouble finding it.' "I have done it several times already, upon requests from you and the others." With 'the others' Majgen meant her other students - the other servants and Joone.

"If you wish to continue with this, wherein lies the change?" wondered Mooje.

"I wish to help more regularly than before. One or two for each of my waking periods at least."

"Many of my relatives would like to meet you, Maijien. They know you are the Founder, have known since before we started keeping it secret."

In the human fashion Majgen shook her head. "I would like to meet more of your family, Mooje. But the ones I speak of helping are the ones who yearn but cannot find, those who need my help."

"It is not the right time to reveal to everyone that you are the Founder, Maijien, not yet," objected Mooje. "Especially not with the Winin away. He should learn of it before any stranger."

"This secret has started spreading beyond those who have been told." Majgen's words unsettled Mooje, even though he was aware of this fact.




Majgen Ch. 019



"We are trying to keep it contained," he stated.

"Trying and failing miserably," added Majgen.

With the Path came increased perceptive abilities. No other Follower of the Path had attained the continuous unusual perception which Majgen possessed. Yet, most Followers now and then experienced - ever so briefly - to sense like Majgen did. In such moments they could gain memories not offered - even through a mind shield. This way the knowledge that Majgen, a mere human, was the Founder slowly spread amongst the Followers of the Path of the Heart.

"I know that you and the others have started asking all who know to not attend gatherings," said Majgen. "I want you to stop doing that. You should not try to isolate those who know from others, it is not fair to them." Majgen sensed what Mooje was about to reply, and forestalled his objection, "I don't want you to set up separate gatherings for those who know either."

"But it would only be temporary, Maijien. Just until things are safer for you."

"It would be wrong, Mooje. I don't want the Path to be split into sections. The Path is for everyone who wants it. We are not to be split apart in strange groups and affiliations. No matter what we are, or who we are, when we of the Path meet to share then we are equals. All welcomed as who we are."

'All welcomed as who we are.' Majgen's words echoed in Mooje's mind.

"Mooje, you are staring at me that way again." Majgen said it with a smile to lessen the rude impact of the rebuttal. She regularly educated her friends on perceiving her as a person rather than a revered entity.

Mooje shook himself out of the reverie and returned his attention to the plants. With some of his reaching limbs covered in mud he commented, "You shouldn't really blame me for that relapse. You were using very flowery words, Maijien."

"Flowery even?" asked Majgen. "I guess I had best stop talking before you mistake me for one of the plants and decide to cover my legs with the carefully gathered shit from cold-blooded herbivorous animals."

"Droppings, Maijien, in gardening we call it droppings."

"Well, I call it shit, and you are covered with it." Majgen grinned mischievously, for making such a rude joke on her friend. Mooje didn't quite understand what the joke was though.

Yijejos didn't understand human lavatory jokes. The view on lavatory functions was quite different between the two species. The human omnivorous digestive system -- that allowed them to eat both meat and vegetative food -- required a spatially well-defined symbiosis with microorganisms. Some of the microorganisms required late in the digestive system, would be harmful if present in more than trace amounts in the earlier parts of their digestion. Thus biologically, human faeces was unsanitary for humans. 

Culturally, this gave rise to faecal jokes, as well as frequently occurring referrals to shit when speaking of derogatory matters in a less formal language.

Unlike humans, yijejos were fully herbivorous. Symbiosis with microorganisms was well-defined in their digestive systems too, but their balance with those symbionts was less fragile than was the case for humans. The microorganisms in yijejo droppings were not harmful to a yijejo if ingested orally in large amounts. In fact, yijejos could gain a certain amount of nourishment from eating yijejo shit.

When a human said 'go eat shit' to another it was a meaningless insult. If a yijejo said it to another it was a comment related to poverty, or to a lack of willingness to spend money. A good example would be the phrase: 'If it is too expensive, you can go eat shit.' If a human said this to another, the 'go eat shit' part would be meaningless - yet derogatory. Whereas amongst yijejos it would be a reality, a possible alternate way to sate immediate hunger.

At Majgen's time, however, the human and the yijejoan usage of the term 'go eat shit' had one common denominator - both were considered derogatory; in the human version because of a metaphoric referral to something unsanitary; in the yijejo version as a referral to an act related to poverty, hence connected to the very lowest social status.

----=(o)=----

Majgen and her friends had several rows regarding her wish to aid strangers in finding the Path. She agreed that any Follower meeting her might guess she was the Founder. Majgen also agreed that visitors who didn't guess her secret would wish to speak of the human who knew the Path so well.

The disagreement resided on the topic of whether or not it was worth the risk.

In the end Majgen's friends convinced her to only see to those who already knew her secret. Majgen demanded, though, that she would see people who had stumbled across it inadvertently too, not only those who had been told.

Peace did not return with that matter settled, though. A topic for even greater dispute was how to keep the secret of the Founder's identity from spreading amongst random Followers. Her friends wanted to push a separation of those who knew and those who didn't. Their insistence infuriated Majgen to the point of screaming obscenities.

"Maijien," said Inee, after she had accused them all of being unguarded eggs for the third time in one argument, even though she didn't know what it meant, "since you refuse to be our leader, you really have no right to tell us how to control the Path."

"Is that extortion, Inee?" asked Majgen. "Are you saying you will only do what is right, if I assume the role of leader?"

"It is not extortion. I am simply stating that if you won't lead us, you shouldn't tell us what to do."

"Really." Majgen's eyes narrowed, as she moved them from one to the other. "There is still something I can do, without assuming leadership."

Her friends remained quiet, not understanding where she was headed.

"I can simply remove your incentive for this wrong-doing."

Joone offered his love an insecure smile. "How do you intend to do that, Maijien?"

"I can call a news agency, inform them who I am, what the Path of the Heart is, and that it was I who founded it."

"That would be insane!" protested Inee.

"You can't be serious," stated Ene.

"Look at me, Ene. Feel me, Ene, then you will know I am serious," said Majgen. "I would rather reveal the secret myself than split the Path into two factions to keep it safe." Majgen turned her attention from Ene to Inee. "I am not insane, Inee. It is true that in the beginning, I did not understand what the Path of the Heart truly is. But, I do now. I will not let you set it off to a corrupted and crippled start. It would be against everything I believe in."

"You shouldn't risk yourself, Maijien." Joone's statement sounded more like a plea.

"Joone, my love," she replied, "around ten thousand follow the Path of the Heart now. Several Followers, who are well experienced in matters of mathematics, has independently concluded that the Path spreads exponentially. With a doubling time of less than three days." Majgen referred to yijejoan days, the doubling time had been estimated to about 2.5 yijejo days (21 human days). "If this is true, then in a few days there will be twenty-thousand Followers."

Majgen had calculated on the numbers in human time measures too, and came to think of what she had found, 'If this exponential spread continues the Path will have more than a million Followers in half a year. By that time it will be impossible for the Path to remain mostly unnoticed as it is now.'

"I know that several of you had romantic ideas," continued Majgen with a softer tone of voice, "of slowly expanding your personal understanding of the Heart, of slowly sharing this with others. To slowly and peacefully make the Path spread across the universe over multiple generations. But, that is not what is happening. The path is spreading like a disease, friends. A very infectious disease."

"How can you compare it to a disease?" Niinon was baffled by Majgen's choice of words.

"The Path is not a disease, Niinon. It is a cure. But, how will one who has not felt the Path recognise that?" Majgen looked at her friends with sad compassion. "Sooner or later, you will hear the Path of the Heart referred to as a disease. When those it has not reached hear of how it spreads -- hear of how strangely devoted new Followers are to this trend -- then they will quite easily use and accept a word like disease."

Her friends winced when she used the phrase 'strangely devoted'. Majgen even noticed a flare of anger in them when she used the word 'trend'.

"You think I devaluate the Path by using such words." Majgen closed her eyes and reached towards her friends empathically. 'Feel what I feel, see what I see.'

"Whatever is said, words are words." 'The Path speaks not with words.' "Do not fall into the trap of believing what the Path truly is could be less by words uttered." 'What we see, what we feel, what our hearts know.' "Glory lies within." 'Truth and honesty lies within.' "Words are outside. Words can spread lies." 'The heart cannot.' "You will hear untrue words, that are spoken in earnest." 'Ignorance, innocently unknowing.'

" 'Promise me,' " she pleaded, with words and emotion. "Promise me that you will never use lies to protect the Path. Promise me that you will remain true till the end. Whichever lies will arise against the Path, promise me you will not fight it with lies too. Promise me you will defend the Path only with truth and love, never with violence. Promise you will never defend the Path for pride, and never for glory." Majgen went quiet a moment. " 'Most of all promise me that you will never, for any reason, force the Path upon any who does not want it.' "

Her friends looked at her quizzically.

"I don't understand, Maijien," admitted Inee.

Majgen sighed, she easily perceived that none of her friends understood. "It has to do with politics, and how politics corrupts. It has to do with power. At this time the Path is small, but it will grow large and strong. Gaining power corrupts, fear of losing power corrupts too. The Path is not a political organisation, but eventually the Path will have political significance, one way or the other."

Her friends still didn't understand.

'This will be difficult,' realised Majgen.

From her time with Ottearon Weissme, and with Baglian too, she had gained a profound social and political understanding. Her friends were empaths, they understood individuals better than random non-empaths would. Since they had gained the Path they had started understanding individuals better than most empaths too. But they had no understanding of the psychology of masses, nor the psychology of power.

'Their innate naivety in regard to yijejoan politics will make it even harder,' she thought. 'Myths do have a strong effect on perception. What we believe, and what we know, those two concepts are so hard to keep apart.'

----=(o)=----

Imaun, Winin of Oaaa, sat comfortably in one of the Gathering Building's leisure rooms, peacefully contemplating. Two others were in the room too, also peacefully contemplating.

'The gatherings of the Path of the Heart are always so peaceful,' thought Imaun. 'Even when people talk and joke there is such a peaceful feel to everything.' Like his parents, siblings, and other relatives, Imaun regularly attended Gatherings of the Heart. 'The quiet revolution. No one ever refers to it with such words, though.'

At Gatherings of the Heart, he saw unusually few of those amongst the Eieie. Being an extremely high-ranked Eieie himself, he had trouble understanding why. 'Shouldn't we of the Eieie be the ones most prone to see and accept this Path?'

There would always be more enigmas than time to contemplate them. But some riddles were more interesting than others, of course. Some closer to Heart than others.

'We of the Eieie know so much of the mind, and of empathy. Yet, the Path is harder for us to find. Why?'

When first introduced to the Path, Imaun had felt like a whole new world had opened to him. One he never knew he had always longed for. He had been swept away in it. But, he had known all along that he wasn't losing his footing, he was gaining it. The Path was in him now.

Yet, something was missing.

'I stopped evolving.' Imaun took a deep breath. 'With the Path comes increased sensitivity. My sensitivity has increased. My perceptivity is greater than ever. But...' He found himself blocked, in his attempts to find words for his feelings. 'Blocked. That is the word. I am blocked. I can't seem to move further, and I know there is more.'

Others too had an understanding of Imaun's struggle with truly finding the Path. Various members of his family had tried to comfort him, had told him it would come eventually.

'There is no rank within the Path, but I know -- even if no one has designated me as such -- that I am a novice at this.' Imaun pushed the aggravating thought away. It was a frustrating feeling. Knowing there was something he wanted, and that it was practically within his reach, yet not knowing exactly what it was - or how to get it.

----=(o)=----

'This part is so sad,' thought Majgen. Tears attempted to leave her eyes.

Joone moved his reaching limbs around her, to hold her even closer. "It has a happy ending you know," he whispered.

"Be quiet, don't ruin the movie."

Joone laughed at her complaint. "You know how it is going to end. The Legend of Princess Owane always ends the same way."

"Stop laughing, Love. I'll get motionsickness." Majgen's voice shook from her body being shaken in tune with the ripples of Joone's laughter.

"My apologies." Joone's laughter made his voice shake too. He did his best to stop laughing, however, and soon his laughter was a pleasant vibration beneath Majgen's body, rather than rigourous shaking.

"Rewind to where the sun rises, and the cameras zoom in on Mun. That actor plays the part of Mun really well. I want to see the whole stretch at once without interruptions."

"Your desires decide my destiny, Love," laughed Joone, and rewound to the spot Majgen had mentioned.

"I love you so much, Ji," said Princess Owane pressing against her beloved's body.

"I love you more than life, Owane," said Lord Ji, holding her tight. "Even if we had not mated my love for you would have lived forever, Princess."

"So would mine for you, Ji. It still makes me happy though, that now our bodies will love each other forever too, same as our minds."

"Me too, my mate, me too."

The cameras zoomed in on Lord Ji's shoulders to show the blue markings under his skin, marking the biological destruction of pheromone glands.

"You know," said Joone. "Right after a mating the markings aren't blue, they are dark purple. It isn't until after a couple of miuis that the colour fades to blue."

"Be quiet! I want to watch the movie," complained Majgen.

"I'm just saying that..."

"Sssh," Majgen resorted to a hissing human hushing sound, while focusing on the movie.

After Ji and Owane had whispered several love declarations to each other, the camera slowly moved away from their freshly mated bodies. The camera swept over the ground a bit, to move slowly upwards, giving a view of the horizon and the glorious sight of a rising sun.

Then the view swerved around to zoom in at a yijejo standing at a good distance from the newly mated couple. It was Mun, the loyal Royal Guard who had helped his princess escape to mate the love of her life, Lord Ji.

Even at a distance it was obvious he was crying. His body shook in that manner which was easily discerned from laughter. The camera slowly zoomed in on him, in tune with sunlight hitting him. His upper body was naked, apart from a blanket which he held against his abdomen.

'And why would his upper body be naked? He should be wearing his armour.' thought Joone, but didn't mention this unrealistic fictional liberty to Majgen. 

The view became clearer, revealing male mating markings on the Royal Guard's chest. Explaining his distress.

'Poor Mun,' thought Majgen. 'Doomed to spend the rest of his life mated to a woman who isn't mated to him, and isn't in love with him either.'

A tear managed to escape one of Majgen's eyes, as she watched Mun put his armour on, meticulously tightening each piece in place to fully hide the markings.

"No one need ever know my pain," said Mun. "I will not let my misery detract from my Princess's happiness."

Joone was, yet again, tempted to remind Majgen that Mun too would get his happiness before the story ended. The two heroes and the heroine had yet many perils and struggles ahead of them, though, before the Princess would learn of Mun's agony and mate him too. This time, Joone controlled his urges, and let Majgen enjoy the movie in quiet.

Two hours later the movie ended with a happy image of the two heroes and the heroine beginning their happy ever after, as mates and co-mates.

"That was a really good movie," said Majgen, and leaned further back to snuggle against Joone's chest.

"I've seen better," admitted Joone. "In my opinion the Legend of Princess Owane is better represented in dancing shows than in movies."

"Well, I loved it."

"And I love you," said Joone. He slipped a reaching limb up under her blouse and caressed the soft skin on her belly.

"I love you too." Majgen closed her eyes and enjoyed his warmth, his touch, and his empathic presence.

Joone moved his limb higher, to find a breast. He enjoyed the surge of lust going through her as he found both a breast and its nipple.

"Well, aren't you being naughty now?" said Majgen, teasingly encouraging him to play. When she didn't want that kind of attention she would either say it directly or gently pull his limbs away from sensitive places.

Joone smiled and caught both her arms with other limbs.

"If I am, what will you do about it?"

"Not a whole lot, I guess," laughed Majgen, but still tried to pull her arms free, as Joone slipped a second limb under her blouse.

'I love you,' transmitted Majgen. 'More, please more.'

"Turn your senses off, Love," whispered Joone. "Let's play."

His love loved to play with him, and he loved to feel her ecstasy. At night they were the only two people in the world, and the world was the halls and rooms of the Winin's home.

Majgen turned her empathic senses off and smiled expectantly awaiting to learn what game Joone would create for her pleasure. She knew he often stole inspiration directly from her mind, but with her senses off she never knew what he would steal and what he would make up himself. Playing without being able to sense his emotions and plans was a special thrill.

Joone didn't disappoint, the game was thrilling, but never went too far. Joone never did. He never left her mind while they were intimate - whether they played games or made love.

Afterwards, they cuddled again. Majgen exhausted and happy; Joone relaxed and happy. They joined minds to wordlessly express their feelings for each other and remained that way together until Majgen dozed off.

While his love slept, Joone tailored - designed patterns and figures suitable for clothing, and sew small patches to test new ideas. He couldn't work for real, because of spending all night, every night, with his treasured Maijien. He missed his old work sometimes, a little, but considered his career as a high quality tailor a very small sacrifice to pay for what he had gained.

Love.

Love and the unique privilege of filling the role as lover in Maijien's life. He loved her immensely, but even if his love had been less vigourous, he would still have accepted that place in her life. Apart from being his friend, and his love, she was Maijien the Founder. He worshipped her.




Majgen Ch. 019



Joone hummed gently while working on his designs. In his experience Majgen's nightmares were less frequent when he hummed. Sometimes he could even soothe her out of nightmares without waking her, by picking her up and humming. Other times he couldn't.

This sleeping period passed uneventfully though, Majgen was well rested by the time she woke.

"Morning greetings, my love," Joone greeted when she sat up.

"Morning greetings. What time is it?"

"It's goo time," replied Joone. "A bit past it actually, almost exactly halfway through the eight miui."

"Ou," said Majgen, she had become accustomed to saying ou instead of aha and oh. "Lovely." She wrinkled her nose. "Breakfast goo."

Majgen received all her nourishment from fully synthesised food. Her diet consisted solely of purified water and a slimy, practically tasteless, mechanically produced, gelatinous substance. In the long term, that unnatural diet had the side effect of lessening natural hunger signals from her body. Her body didn't get hungry often enough, and upon receiving the goo informed her it was sated too early. Majgen's meals were timed, scheduled and portioned out, to ensure she neither received too little, nor too much, nourishment.

She had grown used to it though, had learned to swallow the synthetic slime fast, and did her best not to remember what real food was like. Never feeling hungry aided to that end. She missed actual food, of course. But even just growing one apple-tree, required so much more than an apple seed, and water and sunlight. The roots would need either a complex computer controlled life support system, or genuine living soil with the appropriate microorganisms.

Occasionally, Majgen had toyed with daydreams of having a human greenhouse, a miniature habitat with plants which weren't toxic to her. Fruit trees, berry-bushes, and vegetables. In reality such a simple thing would not be simple at all here in yijejoan space. The cost of gaining the necessary biological ingredients to start such a thing would be immense.

For yijejos inter-species trading was legal, but on the human side it wasn't. The penalties were extreme, ranging from death (verdict - unforgivable crime committed while insane) to death by torture (verdict - treason). Human inter-species traders, smugglers, didn't risk their lives for tiny amounts of income.

The expenses wouldn't stop there though.

Sensory equipment of high scientific standards would be needed to keep the microbiology of such a closed system viable. And large-scale toxin permits would need to be paid annually. The plants in a greenhouse suitable for a human, would be as toxic to yijejos as their plants were to her.

All in all, an immense amount of expenses and trouble, to be able to enjoy a piece of fruit once in a rare while.

Majgen had long since thought it all through and decided she could live without pleasant taste experiences.

Joone watched as Majgen gobbled the goo down, and handed her purified water when she was done.

"I've been thinking about the Legend of Princess Owane," he said, while she rinsed her mouth. The goo didn't taste like much, but Majgen still preferred to wash the slimy feeling away after eating.

"It's a very romantic story," commented Majgen in between sips.

"It isn't all fiction you know. It is possible for a man to become mated like that, without actually penetrating the woman. It's not likely to happen by accident like in the Legend, by him simply being too close during a mating. But it can easily happen during a double-mating."

"It can?"

"Yes, sometimes in the heat of the moment of a double mating, one of the men ends up only participating empathically, while the other man performs a physical mating. Of course when it happens that way the woman is mated with both, because of the empathic bonding. So it is not a tragedy. The second man's sperm being delivered in the wrong location doesn't affect the mating bond as long as the empathic connection was mutual."

"I didn't know. I thought the mating occurred with the intercourse itself."

"No. The mating occurs with the release," explained Joone. "The empathic bond during the act ensures release is simultaneous for all involved. It is very primal, very natural."

"I'm glad accidents don't happen easily. After all, for yijejos mating is a life-long thing. Once a man bursts those pheromone glands, he is bound for life."

"The woman too," added Joone, "mating is mutual."

"I know. But it is still different for her, isn't it? She can get more mates than one, but for the man it is over when those glands bursts. No second chances. If he made a wrong choice, he will never get another chance."

"Many men never get a single chance at mating love at all." Joone looked seriously at Majgen. "It is horrible for a woman to make a wrong choice too. Even though she can have multiple mates the longing for each of the ones she has never goes away. You could actually say women have it worse, they can make more than one mistake, and pay dearly for each."

"Love can be cruel." Talking of the drawbacks of love made Majgen a bit sad. It reminded her of Aejoa. 'The ten days will have passed soon. I wonder if he will come home then.'

"You miss him," said Joone, sensing who Majgen was thinking of. "He won't stay away forever, Maijien." Joone reached out offering a comforting hug. Majgen accepted gratefully.

"You like him a lot," Joone whispered to her, soothingly. "Maybe one day you will fall in love with him and make him as happy as me."

"You really aren't the least bit jealous at that notion," perceived Majgen.

"Of course not. It would be marvellous to have the Winin as a co-mate."

"Ou!" said Majgen. "I knew there was a reason for you to court me, you evil fiend. You are using me to get closer to the Winin!"

Joone giggled mischievously at her joke. "Of course. You didn't really think I loved you did you?"

Majgen giggled back, and snuggled in his limbs. "Sometimes I'd wish I was a yijejo too, so we could mate, and get children, and grandchildren."

"Actually, I think we can mate. That's what I wanted to tell you."

"What do you mean?"

"I think that if I leave hormonal treatment, then I might be able to mate you when we make love. Your ecstasy is so strong when we do. I think it is strong enough to start the process even without pheromones."

"Ou," said Majgen. "So by sating my lust you would become my life long love slave."

"I am already your life long love slave, Maijien," stated Joone, and then rustled his reaching limbs deviously, "and you, little helpless creature, you are my life long tickling victim."

Majgen screeched and crawled out of his hold. Giggling, she got on her feet and started running.

"You can run, but you can't run faster than me! I am coming to get you."

The nights belonged to Majgen and Joone.

----=(o)=----

Alone in the garden, Majgen sat on a table. She enjoyed the sunlight and the view, but her mind was occupied with waiting. Aejoa was coming home. She had felt inclined to wait in the foyer, staring at the door, ready to run to him as soon as he came. In the end she had decided against that. If she remained here he could settle in, shower and change clothes, feel at home, and seek her out when ready.

Majgen couldn't help but wonder if Aejoa was home yet. If he was inside settling, or not yet home.

'I'd wish the message had been more specific,' she thought. 'Sometime in the first quarter of the second miui. That's a five hour time span. I should have taken a clock out here with me.' "Of course if I had done that, all I would be seeing would be digits," she admitted to herself. 'I wouldn't have been able to wrestle my eyes off it, to enjoy the view, for long at a time.'

Abruptly her waiting ended, as she felt a familiar presence.

"Aejoa," she said, and turned round while getting to her feet.

"Maijien." He was already at the table, having moved to her at yijejoan speed.

"I've missed you," said Majgen, standing still. Not sure if she should run the three steps to him or not. Not sure if he was ready to hold her tight like he always had in the past when coming home.

She wasn't sure, because he wasn't sure.

"I've missed you too, Maijien."

"Ten days is a long time." - Eighty-three human days. "Please don't leave again," she added, perceiving he was thinking of taking another long haul away from home.

"I wanted to stay away long enough to get past my crush on you, Maijien," explained Aejoa. "I thought ten days would be enough."

"But it wasn't."

"No, it wasn't," confirmed Aejoa. "I'm not sure another ten days will do the trick either."

"I don't want you to leave my life, Aejoa. You are very dear to me."

Aejoa closed his eyes. He took a step back - away from Majgen - before opening them again.

"I am a dear friend to you. Maijien, it means a lot to me that you love me as a friend. A lot. But, I can't help it; I want more."

"I can't give you more."

"I know." Aejoa studied the little human on the table. "It's so strange. Before you told me you were in love with Joone, I never realised I wanted more than your friendship. Now that I know what I want, I can't stop thinking about it. Even though I know I can't have it."

"I do love you." Majgen's voice croaked, but she was still trying not to cry.

"But you don't love me the way you love Joone, do you?"

"No. Not that way." Now Majgen did cry. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Maijien. You can't force yourself to fall in love with me."

"I would if I could." Her friend's agony pushed her back in her old pattern of putting everyone else before herself. It had only been a few months since Majgen had understood that side of herself and decided to grow up and be her own person. She was still prone to relapses.

"I love you," said Aejoa, and moved another step back. "I want us to be friends again, but I need more time."

"Please don't leave me." Majgen went to the edge of the table, to be closer to him.

"I will come back, eventually. I promise."

Majgen regretted having waited for him on a table. 'He can run away faster than I can climb down from this stupid piece of furniture.'

"Take good care of yourself while I'm gone." Aejoa took yet another step back. Majgen perceived he was about to make his escape.

"Don't leave me you shit-eating, moronic dimwit!" Majgen aimed to catch his attention, and succeeded. Surprised by the sudden insults, Aejoa forgot he had been about to leave.

"I've been hurt too," she continued. "I've missed you. I've been worried about you. At least stay with me a few hours before you leave again to figure out your emotions in aloof dignity and solitude. If we have to hurt like this then let's at least hurt together a little while."

"I don't want you to see me like this," he explained. "I have feelings I am ashamed of. Jealousy, pointless anger. I am haunted by contemptible daydreams. Because of your special perceptivity I won't be able to hide any of those things from you, Maijien. It's better if I stay away till I have it under control."

"Because you are afraid I will be ashamed of you?"

"Maijien, I have daydreams about beating Joone into a whimpering pile of bloody meat. I..." Aejoa paused. "Yes," he admitted. "I am afraid you will be ashamed of me."

"Stay with me, Aejoa. I promise I will ask you to leave if I start feeling ashamed of you." She reached her arms out towards him. "Pick me up. I want a hug."

Aejoa hesitated.

"Don't be such a coward, Aejoa. Pick me up!"

"I'm not a coward. I am being sensible."

"If you are afraid of a single unarmed human, you are a coward," stated Majgen, arms still outstretched.

"That would be funny. If I wasn't still suffering from broken love." Aejoa's voice was grim, and filled with self-pity. 'She probably doesn't understand what it is like.'

'I do understand,' she thought, even though she knew he wouldn't perceive even a fraction of her thoughts just then. 'I can feel how you feel. Your mind shield doesn't hide it.' Majgen lowered her arms. 'You aren't used to feeling ashamed, my friend. Even embarrassment is a stranger to you. So, even though you know better, you assume such emotions are strangers to me too. That I can't understand your torment.'

Words could never speak as clearly about emotions, as emotions could speak about emotions. But sometimes words could reach through.

"I suffered from broken love once," said Majgen. "I was thirteen human years old, almost fourteen. About eight yijejoan calendar years. I was a child whose body had only just begun the change into adulthood. The human body changes in more ways than size from childhood to adulthood," she explained. "I had a crush on an older boy. He was only one human year from adulthood. He was sixteen human years old and he was gorgeous.

"I hadn't lived as an empath very long back then. I didn't know how to hide my emotions. Shortly after I fell in love with him all the other students knew about my crush. They laughed at him. Teased him. I didn't realise how ashamed he was of my innocent crush.

"One day, in the student cafeteria, he walked up to me. I wasn't as perceptive back then as I am now, and he had a mind shield up. 'Hi, pretty girl,' he said. It was the first time he ever talked to me. 'I am glad to see you,' he said. He was glad to see me, right there, right then, but not for liking me, Aejoa. I didn't perceive that, though, untrained as I was. His words made my heart pound, I thought I was going to faint from happiness.

"He moved closer, and I stayed where I was. He placed his hand on my cheeks and raised my face. He lowered his own gorgeous face to mine, and then pressed his mouth to mine. That is an intimate gesture amongst humans, Aejoa. It means something. We call it 'kiss.' That second I would have given my life for him, if he had asked me to, and died happy.

"But then I perceived it from him, Aejoa. His plan. Reality." Majgen's mouth clenched at the memory.

"He had approached me to play an evil trick on me, Aejoa. To humiliate me in front of everyone."

'It broke my heart,' she would have said if speaking to a human.

"I looked up into his beautiful eyes, in his gorgeous face, and I still loved him. Even though inside I was torn apart by broken love. I would have let him proceed with his despicable plan. I would have tried to pretend not to know better. He had broken my love, and I didn't think anything could be worse than that."

The memory tormented Majgen. Back when she had realised the boy was scheming it had been easier for her to hate herself than him.

"He never did get around to the rest of his plan, though, because suddenly my emanations got to him. They also got to his friends who had stayed nearby - to aid him with his scheme. As well as every other student in the vicinity."

Majgen didn't take her eyes of Aejoa while telling, and Aejoa didn't try to run away.

"I felt it happening. I felt their minds snap into a self-hypnotic state. And, still, I kept staring into those eyes, frozen, inactive. I probably wouldn't have been able to run away, but for years it tormented me that I didn't even try. In that moment at least. I was lucky it happened in the cafeteria, Aejoa. I was lucky he had chosen a very public place for his plan.

"If it had been in a secluded part of school, I might have been beaten to death.

"Because it was a public place security was alerted within a time frame that allowed me to survive with a dislocated shoulder, three bent ribs, and having been 'raped' by only three of them. The first of those was the boy I had a crush on." Majgen used the human word for rape, since there was no yijejoan word for it.

With disgust Aejoa muttered, "Unguarded eggs."

"Shut up about that, please. All human empaths are like unguarded eggs, Aejoa. Including me. Non-empaths give birth to us."

Some days back one of her friends had explained to her what an unguarded egg was.

"My apologies, Maijien."

Majgen shook her shoulders. She didn't really need an apology, as long as he would leave that topic be.

"This happened before they started the treatment which caused your Wjajwan syndrome, didn't it?" 'Brakwan syndrome' he meant, but couldn't pronounce.

"Yes, it did."

"So many horrible things have happened to you in the past, Maijien. I wish I could hold you in my arms for the rest of our lives, and comfort you, and make everything better."

"I wish you would hold me in your arms, Aejoa. And comfort me. And make things better. But, you are too afraid of shame to do it. I know what feeling ashamed is like. I know what it feels like to suffer from broken love. Aejoa, even though you have a crush on me, and I don't have a crush on you, I am still your friend."

Majgen went quiet a moment, just looking at him. Then she continued, "If you leave now, immediately, because you fear the shame, it will be an act of cowardice."

She raised her arms again. This time Aejoa walked to her, instead of away.

A couple of hours, became more than a couple of hours. Eventually Majgen had to sleep. Which she did in Aejoa's reaching limbs, to ensure he wouldn't sneak off without waking her to say good-bye. He had refused to promise not to leave while she slept.

'How long will it take?' he wondered, looking down at her sleeping face. 'How long will I need to keep avoiding her to get over this?' Aejoa was planning to leave as soon as she drifted into a sleep deep enough for him to put her down without waking her. Majgen moved in her sleep, as if to burrow even deeper into his hold. The endearing movement woke a new thought. 'If I manage to get over my crush, and return, how long will it take before I fall in love with her all over again?'

"Everything I never knew I wanted -- more than anything else," Aejoa whispered to her sleeping form. "That is what you are." 'No matter how far I run, I can never escape that.'

Aejoa digested that thought a while, and came to another one.

'Maybe I should stop trying to escape.'

----=(o)=----

"You have been looking at me that way quite regularly lately," said Aejoa, pulling Majgen out of her thoughts.

"What way?" she asked.

"Like someone who has a secret and is trying to find the right time to tell it." Aejoa had decided to learn to live with his crush on Majgen, and had remained home. A few yijejoan days had passed since he came home. He was adjusting, was beginning to learn to live with the difference between what he desired and what he had.

"I guess I have," admitted Majgen.

"I'd prefer if you would stop doing it."

"I'm sorry, I just wasn't sure if you were ready for more secrets yet," began Majgen, preparing to tell the secret.

"I am not ready for more secrets." Aejoa's words surprised Majgen, she had been deeply embedded in contemplating when Aejoa first interrupted her, and had misunderstood his intentions.

"Whatever the secrets you have left are, Maijien, I would prefer if you keep them to yourself at least a while longer. I am still learning to live with the last secret you revealed to me." Aejoa offered a small, embarrassed smile. "You have brought the revered Winin of Naonun to his knees."

"It can wait, Aejoa. Just let me know when you are ready for more secrets."

"Thank you," he said, and returned his attention to his text-viewer, his work.

Majgen looked at him, and again fell into thoughts. 'It doesn't feel right though. He is the only one of my friends who doesn't know I am the Founder of the Path of the Heart. He is the only one of my friends whom I haven't given the Path. Of course that is not because I don't want to, he just isn't ready to open his heart that way.

'Aejoa is also the only one of my friends who is bothered by the Path. He has received several reports about it so far and considers it a nuisance. I really don't like keeping this secret from him.'




Majgen Ch. 019



"You are doing it again, Maijien," said Aejoa, not moving his eyes from his text-viewer.

"My apologies, Aejoa. I guess controlling that urge is harder than I thought," she said with an apologetic smile. "I'll go take a walk in the garden, to gain control of it."

"Thank you," said Aejoa again.

Over the next months, as Aejoa adjusted to living with the one he loved as if she was just a good friend, the two forgot their conversation about secrets. Majgen grew accustomed to keeping the secret, and Aejoa forgot she had a secret to tell him.

*

Copyright of Nanna Marker (lit ID ellynei)