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.

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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.