Princess of Zenina Read online

  “Where are they now?” Vlama asked prompting him.

  “I could not really keep them with me after Josie died. Why should they be stigmatized by my disgrace? I packed their things and took them to Josie’s mother on Markaba. She was distraught to learn Josie, her only daughter had died. She generously agreed to care for our children and was overjoyed at having her grandchildren. I gave her my savings from my years as a mercenary, to pay for their keep. I couldn’t give them a decent life. I tried to see my older sons while I was in Markaba, but Chloxena stopped any contact. I fled, practically penniless, paying my way by working on a freighter - doing any work possible.”

  Bromarsh spoke longingly about his children and his Army life. Vlama drew him out and learnt far more about him than he told her. Various aspects of Zeninan life were dissected and if Marina came into the discussion more than once, then Vlama was not the only one to mention her. It was getting late when Chilka appeared. She said hello to Bromarsh and stood silently with Vlama for a short time. Chilka then walked to the bridge and not long afterwards Marina came out.

  She stopped briefly and talked with Bromarsh and Vlama, glancing at the moving images as she did so. A broad grin brightened her face as she watched. Not long after she went to the galley, joining them half an hour later with two trays overflowing with steaming food. Vlama joined Marina in her supper, but Bromarsh found the thought of food offensive. The smell and sight of the Zeninan delicacies made him a touch queasy, so he got up and walked over to look at the screen.

  The three dimensional image he faced appeared several feet from the wall. It was vivid and there was no soft focus. Two figures were engaged in copulation. The positions were convoluted and almost certainly painful but the intention was clear. The man Bromarsh had never seen before, but the woman was the same one who was eating her supper with Vlama. As Bromarsh identified Marina, a host of emotions flooded into him in quick succession. Disgust, anger, jealousy, embarrassment, fascination, lust and great admiration vied for his attention. He watched enthralled and hating himself for continuing to watch.

  After a while he saw this was not a skin flick. Nor was it a shoddy home movie or produced without the participants’ knowledge. The nearest thing he could liken it to was a gymnastic display. Those positions seemed chosen for degree of difficulty as if they were being marked. They were possible only with great strength and muscle control, but they should have made the performance laughable.

  Laughable this performance was not, it was perfectly choreographed. The transition between positions was smooth and graceful; the attitudes absolute aesthetics. The act of sex had been at best amusing to him as an observer, at worst distasteful. This was pure art. They would be awarded high marks for their artistic interpretation, for this was clearly a demonstration by experts.

  He was so absorbed by the entertainment, he did not notice Vlama take her leave, or that Marina had walked over to him. The scent of her body drifted to him and he registered her presence. He looked at her and coloured. He was unsure how he expected her to react, but reaction he did expect.

  Marina stood balanced, her toes turned out like a ballerina. Her face, bland, neither embarrassed, amused or proud of the recording. The pause stretched on and Bromarsh felt unsettled by the silence. At last he stuttered an inane question.

  “Is that the famous Charles I’ve heard so much about?”

  “No, that’s not Charles, that recording’s fifteen years old, from when I used to compete. I don’t wish to interrupt, but I’m going to bed now and thought I’d say goodnight. People still like to watch my victories. Good night.”

  She left and Bromarsh followed.

  Chapter Twelve - Hemithea Space-Port

  A dim light woke Bromarsh. His eyes rebelled as he tried to open them fully. His muscles complained painfully as he sat up, forcing his eyes to open a crack he began focusing on the cabin. The bed no longer contained Marina’s form. She emerged from the bathroom already clothed, but not in military uniform.

  He took in her appearance, enjoying the view. A semi-transparent skirt of diaphanous russet silk hung from her hips. Its hem meandered up and down in slits which were scalloped in leaf shapes edged with golden thread. Clasping her waist was an intricate golden chain from which suspended a plain broad knife with a golden hilt. Her torso and breasts remained naked. A large flat fire opal carved into a seal circled the smallest finger of her right hand. Surprised, Bromarsh counted her six fingers, then those on her matching left hand. Twelve in total; he had not noticed before.

  Her hair flowed loose but she was braiding it. Vaguely he took in that she was doing it telekinetically. It was a complex weave involving nine strands individually doubled and trebled back to her head so the finished plait ended at her hips. She bound the ends into a small russet silk bag that matched her skirt. The door opened to admit a blue he had not seen before, wearing a silver uniform. Not army then, he assumed, but his knowledge of Zeninan uniforms did not include other colours.

  “Morning Marina, shall I take over or would you rather handle her yourself?”

  “No thank you Ivla, this is much faster than my old yacht. I’ll leave it to professionals to pilot her through the force rings.”

  “Did you have a good trip?”

  “OK, we picked up some trespassers, as you see,” indicating Bromarsh in bed.

  “This one looks damn fine! I’ll take him off your hands when you finish with him.”

  “I’m sure he’s flattered by your offer, but he’s not at his best in the morning. I’ll see you on the bridge in a few minutes, Ivla.”

  The pilot left the cabin and went forward.

  “Major, sorry to disturb you, breakfast is being served shortly, so shake yourself. It’s nine o’clock in Hemithea, so I’m going to rouse anyone still abed.”

  Arriving for breakfast, he found most of his companions already there. Father Debenden had set up an improvised altar on a small table to the left of the room. Marina and the two children were kneeling in front of the altar and the priest had just elevated the host. He wondered how Father Debenden had dealt with confession, as enjoying Marina’s body was why he was tired. Muscles ached he had not been aware he had.

  Mass completed, breakfast was served and Marina left for the bridge. Ondiella was late, her eyes blurry with sleep loss. She carried the nearly asleep baby in an unzipped sports bag, padded with blankets. The other Zeninans had reverted to uniform except for Kazimira who still wore shirt and slacks.

  Bromarsh and the other non-Zeninans picked at food as the temperature had been raised to match Hemithea. The Zeninans continued to eat enthusiastically. Breakfast finished, the others hurried to pack their belongings. Chilka organised the children’s things whilst they watched the advance of the planet Zenina on the screen. Bromarsh leaned forward eagerly to glimpse their destination.

  He saw a planet draped in velvet night. The distant stars shone out, their patterns shifting as the craft neared. Then the planet vanished as the ship went through complicated manoeuvres winding its way through the invisible maze of force rings that protected Zenina. The craft zigzagged smoothly into the orbit, edging into the day. Vast oceans of turquoise glittered beside pale pink beaches, lapped by a frothing sea.

  Larger islands clustered together, intricate spider’s web bridges spanning the waters whipped past his eyes. Emerald forests, verdant jungles, rosy deserts, cultivated fields of saffron, green, purple and blue spun on. Groups of dwellings scattered over the cultivated land were tiny specks as they hurtled past. Expanses of fluffy cloud floated over deep blue seas, a few vessels sailing far beneath them. The yacht’s speed slackened as a huge island or continent came into view.

  Descending towards the land, the yacht followed the coast towards the space-port. Father Debenden failed to identify the space-port until directly overhead. Its buildings were landscaped with trees, flowers, vines and luxuriant mosses, appearing a range of gently rolling hills. A few small space-craft decorating the grass around po
inted to its location. The craft headed towards the flat summit of a small hill. Bromarsh felt a hint of a bump as the ground connected. The screen panned around the full circle, displaying the panorama of fields, woods, lake and river, sand and sea. For a few seconds, they spotted Hemithea sitting regally on a promontory overlooking the azure sea.

  Pastel pink and white delicate buildings glimmered in the sun as the screen raced on to more cultivated fields with the impressive peaks of mountains purple in the distance. His view was abruptly cut off as the ship lowered automatically into the hillock’s core, machinery trilling and clicking quietly around it. The screen image switched off, but the yacht continued to move beneath the ground until it was filed away in its parking slot. Bromarsh had not been the only adult watching with rapt attention, for Father Debenden had also been glued to the screen

  The priest was confounded by what he had seen. This Babylon, this present day Gomorrah had not lived down to his prejudices. Having visited capitals and trading towns of many planets, centres of degeneracy and vulgarity to him they looked alike, even if their architecture and indigenous peoples had a local style.

  Father Debenden had doubted Hemithea would hold surprises. He had been expecting an ugly urban sprawl of high rise buildings crammed with its populace and dirty factories pumping pollutants into the surrounding countryside. He thought there would be tawdry displays of advertisements, gaudy flashing lights, rubbish dumps and slum housing. Even on efficient planets, where cleanliness ruled, underneath the facade of order, was noise, stench and the misery of godlessness and sin.

  His brief sight of Zenina and Hemithea disturbed Debenden’s pre-conceptions. Already feeling discomfited by his misjudgement of the Major, particularly as a Zeninan had put him right, so he had much to consider. The Zeninans had behaved impeccably to him, apart from that unpleasant incident on Qu, which he was trying to forget. They were not quite the Jezebels he had expected; their conversation had not been coarse or peppered with bad language.

  The priest recalled respected matrons in his previous parish treating him with less propriety. Assuming Zenina would confirm his convictions by its overt corruption and inefficiency, he sought to refute his first impressions. A planet run by women should be a poor imitation of one run by men. He did not like to admit to suffering from sexual stereo-typing. He resolved to look at Zenina with fresh eyes and see only reality not fancy or prejudice. The adventure might be instructive; he had already learnt things about himself he did not like. He prayed to become better.

  Debenden had watched when Marina checked on Tippy during the night. Debenden had been assailed by her scent, reacting as a man to a desirable woman. She had stood apart from him as though he stank of a charnel house. Afterwards he had scrubbed to remove the imagined taint. Now he understood it had been for his benefit, as respect to his religion. But while they had conversed, he had not thought of himself as a priest or of his religion.

  Debenden had drunk in her image while she had read the notes of Tippy’s babble he had jotted down. Erratic words but clear meaning shone from them. Tippy had seen, but not taken part in, the massacre, but his troubled mind dwelt on how he had let the Major down. But to the true perpetrators, few clues emerged. Names were in plenty in the transcript but Tippy did not point the finger of blame. Marina expressed surprise.

  “The tongue usually voices what the brain most wants to suppress during delirium. I assume Tippy doesn’t know the names of those who framed the Major,” she had told him.

  In frustrated desolation he had prayed for forgiveness after she left.

  Time to think was curtailed, as the priest and the children were bustled off the craft by Chilka. She carried the insensate Tippy to a small hover-cart in which she installed him, the two children and Father Debenden. Ondiella, her baby and the two former pirates boarded a second hover-cart with Vlama, Kazimira and Letinza. They were briskly swept through customs where the two groups separated. The pirates surrendered their blasters, at least until they left Zenina, as only non-mechanical weaponry was allowed on the planet.

  Vlama delivered her group of refugees to a pleasant hostel where their Zeninan companions took their leave. The hostel manageress, a charming Blue, gave them metallic tags to wear around their necks indicating they were permitted temporary residents of Zenina.

  “The tags should be handed in at the space-port when you leave Zenina. You can use the tags throughout Zenina to charge anything you genuinely need during your stay. You will probably all need lighter clothing and there has been generous provision made for the little boy,” the manageress informed them pleasantly.

  Marina had personally funded this largesse, but that was not stated.

  “I can make arrangements for you to see a settlement advisor, who will be able to aid you making your decisions about where you wish to travel to or settle. I understand they have vids and information on all the other planets in the empire and most of those accepting visitor and settlers outside the empire. A travel voucher will be provided to your choice of destination.”

  Chapter Thirteen – Zeninan Customs

  Major Bromarsh’s found his visit to the space-port neither as pleasant nor as quick as his former companions. Impressed so far by Zenina, he disembarked with Marina, Adelza and Belabeza shortly after the others. He stared fascinated while travelling through crystal latticed corridors bedecked with flowers and greenery. The hover-cart stopped, Adelza and Belabeza boarded another heading in a different direction.

  Major Bromarsh continued with Marina to a cavernous room. Streamlets of water cascaded down an amethyst crystal rock wall. They blended musically with a series of fountains that spun droplets in patterns of spirals and stars of spray. They passed to a smaller room where the walls were opaque but still festooned with vines and blossoms. His baggage lay on a pale blue marble slab, behind which two Blues dressed in yellow uniforms were inspecting its contents.

  Bromarsh was unsurprised that his three blasters, a small pocket laser with a silencer and night sight, detonators, explosives of several types, three micro timing devices, a collapsible cross bow and an antique hand gun complete with ammunition had been placed to one side. The latter had belonged to his great-great-grandfather and was ancient then. The Blues added a clutch of stun grenades, nerve gas capsules and smoke bombs to this arsenal. His cases had already had the linings removed and his neatly stacked clothing was being examined in detail.

  Marina seated herself on a corner of the marble slab, preparing as if for a long wait, unconcerned as his belongings were being ransacked.

  Bromarsh waited as his cases were relined with silk, the false bottoms re-inserted. His clothes were efficiently repacked. His machete, knives and razor were carefully put back in their places. A bottle of Markaban whisky was unsealed, smelt and replaced. The vids of his children and some private correspondence were repacked without examination. But his shoes, boots, a few tubes of toothpaste, polish and blacking excited great interest. The toothpaste tubes were split and the contents studied. The polish and blacking was removed onto plastic sheets and the substances sifted. Between them eighteen small lumps were delicately removed and put to one side. After cleaning they were revealed as white diamonds of between two and five carats.

  “Please remove your clothes, Major,” said the more senior of the two Blues.

  “Why do I have to undress…?” he said, protesting on principle, but the look of amusement on Marina’s face discouraged real rebellion. The second Blue took his clothes to examine. He tensed as the first Blue donned the long transparent gloves he had seen vets wear when doing something indelicate to farm animals. The examination of his body was painstakingly complete. Every part of him was examined by a small contraption to ensure no false skin hid contraband and no swallowed packages were inside him. His toes were separated which tickled. He was examined internally as he had feared, complaining volubly in discomfort during the violation.

  Meanwhile Marina sat cleaning her fingernails with her knife, showi
ng no interest. Knowing mechanical or scientific weapons were illegal to civilians on Zenina, he had assumed as Marina’s guest he would be waved through. The gems he had acquired as the best way to keep money through a universe where rates of exchange were volatile. He had concealed them to prevent his fellow pirates from thievery. rather than for smuggling purposes. He was given back his shirt and shorts, but the Blues dithered as if they had missed something. There remained the dart pistol in his boot sole with the spare darts in the other. Feeling belligerent, abused and not at all like co-operating, he remained silent.

  Marina had tired of the game and stood up. She walked over to where his boots rested on the marble and with a flick of her nails extracted the pistol and darts from the hidden compartments. Handing him back his boots, she sweetly thanked the customs officials for their diligence.

  “Our central armoury will store the weaponry. Here is a receipt for those items. Collect them when you leave Zenina. The diamonds have been registered. Don’t trade them in Zenina without permission from the Gemstone Bureau in Hemithea Central. On leaving Zenina you’ll be expected to account for them and we shall check they tally with the register. We apologize for any inconvenience our Customs’ procedures may have caused you and hope you enjoy your stay in the capital of the Great Zeninan Empire.” The senior Blue informed him.

  Bromarsh struggled to resist the desire to shove her supercilious words back down her throat, followed Marina to the hover-cart where his baggage was being loaded. Minutes later they re-joined Chilka, the children, Tippy still soundly asleep and Father Debenden who were waiting in a hover-limousine. The others had waited nearly an hour for them. Chilka drove off towards Hemithea.

  Chapter Fourteen – Hemithea

  Charles received Marina’s mind-call whilst finishing his daily exercises. Moist with sweat, his muscles bulging from the weights he had been pulling. Overjoyed at his mistress’s return, he cancelled his arrangement for lunch with some friends. Marina informed him she was at the space-port and would be home in two hours’ time.