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 shehas 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 fornot 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?