Tales of Jenine, Chapter 2

Battle for Casablanca… ...the Seige


Greg was standing behind the cover of a mechanical enclosure as he saw Jenine stagger when the bullets hit her. Her saw the wild ripple of her tanned skin as each bullet's energy was expended against her invulnerable body. He also saw an angry look growing on her face. He was glad he wasn't the one who was starting to piss her off!


Hassan was crouched on the deck of the freighter, his mind torn between staying out of the line of fire and watching the woman down below on the dock. Having come from a very conservative and fundamental Islamic culture, the woman had shocked him with her actions. First with the display of her strength as she had carried that heavy box from that spacecraft. Then with the scandalous and blatant way she displayed her body, and then with her incredible power as she had somehow sunk the two gunboats and downed the jet bomber that had tried to prevent their entry to this very harbor. He had been down below at the time, so he wasn't sure just how she had done the last part, sinking the gunboats and downing the jet bomber. But the stories he had heard from those of the crew that had seen it implied that she had done it all with just her bare hands.

He didn't know what was in that box she had carried aboard, he wasn't privy to such information. But the way everybody acted, he knew that it was something important, very important. There were a lot of things he didn't know. But he did know one thing, which was why he was on this ship in the first place. Or rather, he knew one man. His uncle Abdul was one of the leaders of the Fatidah in Casablanca.

The box had looked to be very light as she had carried it down the ramp from that strange aircraft. But he had seen three of the infidel sailors crushed under its weight as they had tried to support it. He had also heard their screams as they had been crushed to death under the weight. He had seen the grease stains that were all that had remained of them afterwards, after she had lifted the box up again.

Now she had single-handedly pulled the ship up to the quay and docked it, and in the face of small arms fire, no less! And in the body! He could not believe that the bullets were bouncing off of that slim beautiful body, the body that she refused to cover up properly.

Allah be praised! By the Prophet's beard, this woman truly was sent from Allah! With her at their side, nothing could stand in the way of the Fatidah. If she wasn't a mere woman, she could even lead them to victory, instead of being merely an instrument of the Fatidah.

He was dismayed as he say the effects the heavier weapons now being brought to bear by the soldiers were having on her. An anti-tank rocket struck her lower back with a blinding fury of sparks, the impact throwing her forward so violently that her head made a huge dent in the side of one of the armored cars. A second anti-tank rocket struck her lower abdomen as she cried out in obvious pain, he could hear her all the way up here. The armored car she was leaning against exploded into white-hot metal fragments, even though her body had absorbed much of the impact. Her body was thrown nearly fifty feet through the air to crumple against the corner of a warehouse, the red brick wall partially shattering and collapsing on top of her.

Yet he saw her struggling to her feet. Then he saw the tank at the other end of the street, finally bringing its main gun to bear on her.

No! Allah help her! But his prayers were to no avail. The tank fired, once, twice, three times. She went down, and this time she stayed down.

He realized that he could not stay on the ship. Without her, it was only a matter of time before the soldiers boarded the ship. As a desert tribesman, he was as out of place on this ship as that woman had been. Fortunately, unlike many of his fellow tribesmen he could swim a little. He crawled as fast as he could across the deck to the side away from the quay and jumped overboard. He would swim ashore somewhere and hide out with Abdul and his Fatidah brothers.

Or else he would go meet Allah for his eternal reward. He knew that that was the fate of anybody caught on the ship. But he preferred to delay that particular reward for as long as possible.


Greg also watched Jenine as she went to work on the soldiers below. His body tingled wildly as he saw the woman he was so infatuated with, the woman he had already been so intimate with, throwing the armored cars around as if they were toys. He felt himself becoming wildly aroused as he saw her using her marvelous strength, her gorgeous muscles! God she was magnificent!

The small arms fire peppered every square inch of her skin. He didn't realize the toll the punishment was taking on the woman's nearly invulnerable body. Not until the first anti-tank rocket staggered her. The second caused her obvious pain; he could hear her cry out over the din of the battle.

Then the Russian tank had come around a corner and had fired at her. Again. And again. Three direct hits on the woman from the stars. It was enough. Even her star-born body could not take that much punishment. She was down, she was suddenly down and out. Dead or unconscious...Greg had no idea!

Even as he saw the soldiers taking away her unmoving form, he realized that he was in a very bad situation. He had though that he would have been safe anywhere while she was by his side. But now she was not by his side. She was out of action. He knew he had to get off of this ship before the soldiers boarded it. Without hesitation he raced across the deck to the starboard side. Just before he reached the railing he saw someone else jump over the side. From the clumsy way the man jumped, he knew that it had to be one of the desert-bred Fatidah, a sailor would never have been that clumsy diving into the water.

Without looking to see which one it was, he dove overboard. With a sailor's strong strokes he quickly caught up to the man. He helped the man under a pier to another quay on the other side, far enough away from the fighting, and more importantly, far enough away from the soldiers.

They emerged from the water, their clothes dripping. But they had more important matters to attend to than mere wet clothes.

Hassan and Greg quickly recognized each other, though they had only seen each other aboard the freighter a few times. They had never really spoken to each other, the sailors and the Fatidah had not had many occasions to work together. But Hassan knew that Greg was one of the few sailors who had looked upon the desert tribesmen with anything other than contempt.

After a few halting attempts at communication, they quickly determined that Hassan's broken English was much more serviceable than Greg's fragmentary Arabic. They knew that they could not stay here long. Not with the soldiers patrolling the waterfront. They had to seek out the local elements of the Fatidah and ask for sanctuary. Greg couldn't be sure, but it seemed that Hassan knew how to find somebody named Abdul who could put them in touch with the leaders of the Fatidah in Casablanca. Once they were with the Fatidah they could make plans to rescue their comrades. More importantly, they could make plans to retrieve the package hidden below decks.

The package that Jenine had brought aboard the freighter from that alien spacecraft. Greg knew what was in that box. He didn't know whether Hassan knew, and refrained from discussing the contents.

And even more important, at least to Greg, they could make plans to rescue Jenine, if she was somehow still alive. He had seen her shake off the anti-tank rockets, but the three direct hits from the tank had felled her. Could anybody have survived that? Even a super woman from the stars like Jenine?

They carefully made their way along the waterfront, hiding from the frequent patrols of the soldiers. They were just emerging from behind and below a stack of crates where they had hidden from the latest patrol when Greg thought he saw someone he recognized. She was walking along the waterfront, her head turning periodically from side to side as if she was looking for something. He had never seen her in a miniskirt and heels before; he had usually seen her in much less. But there was something about the way her legs flexed as she walked that was familiar.

But how could she be here now? He had seen three shots from the tank's main gun hit her naked body at hardly more than point-blank range! He had even seen the soldiers carrying her unmoving body away.

Remembering something she had told him during one of their lovemaking sessions back aboard the freighter before reaching Casablanca, he softly whispered out the woman's name. When she turned around in response, he knew that she was whom he had thought she was.


Jenine walked rapidly towards the docks while enjoying the feel of her new clothes. The black stockings and short pleated miniskirt felt very sexy. Her deeply cut blouse showing off her tanned skin to good effect. She had chosen well, this woman's clothes were a perfect fit. The shoes were a little different; she had never worn shoes like this before. They apparently were not designed for comfort. They elevated her heels about four inches above her toes. Glancing down, she was pleased at the way the shoes further shaped her already shapely calves. Apparently, that was what they were designed for. After about a dozen steps she had regained her balance and gait.

She continued walking towards the docks. While she had never been to Casablanca before, and had never even seen a map of the city, she knew exactly where she was going. She didn't need a map, not while she could squint her sparkling blue eyes and see exactly where she wanted to go. And her sensitive nostrils had already told her in which direction the waterfront lay.

She noticed the change in the people as she approached the waterfront. There were fewer people dressed in the Western style, in the style of the woman whose clothes she now wore and her man. There were more people dressed in the native style, in the long flowing robes. The few women she saw were completely covered from head to toe, not even their eyes showing through their veils. She thought she could see the contempt in their eyes at her style of dress. Or undress, in their view. The looks she got from the men told her of a different feeling. They told her that they wanted to do more than merely look at her.

One of those men had done more than just merely look at her. But he would not look at any other woman again in his life after this day.


Anton was a Paris native, who had gotten bored with the urban lifestyle of the European cities. He had spent the last ten years living in Casablanca, going native and mixing with the locals. He definitely preferred life in Casablanca to life in Paris. For one, the gendarmes were easier to avoid here than back home. And the ones that couldn't be avoided could be bribed, quite cheaply. The bribes here were cheaper than the taxes back home had been.

He was a tall athletic man. He made a comfortable living, providing 'muscle' to some of the local 'businesses'. His 'business' left him with enough time to work out to keep his body in shape. The long flowing robes he usually wore were an advantage, as they concealed his muscles until they were needed. They also helped to conceal the knives he carried.

He noticed the woman in the pleated miniskirt and the black stockings walking down the narrow lane towards him. It was hard to not notice her; sights like this were one of the few things he missed from Paris. Women who looked like this seldom came into this area. And they never came unaccompanied and unprotected.

He quickly decided that she wasn't going to stay unaccompanied and unprotected for long. He would accompany her and extend to her some of his 'protection'. When she reached the doorway where he was lounging, he reached out and took her arm. He was surprised when his attempt to pull her into the doorway failed, as the woman kept on walking. But it must simply have been a matter of the angle or the leverage; his second attempt quickly pulled her in with him.


Jenine felt the hand on her arm trying to pull her aside. She was going to ignore it and keep on walking, but then, she realized that this person might be able to get her in touch with the Fatidah. She relaxed and let him pull her into the dim doorway.

His first words sounded like gibberish to her. Seeing the incomprehension on her face, he switched from Arabic to French. When that didn't change the expression on her face, he switched to English.

"A woman like you should not be walking alone in this neighborhood. It is not a safe neighborhood for a woman, unaccompanied and unprotected."

"And just what would you recommend that I do about it?" she asked, smiling sweetly. Her eyes sparkled briefly as she literally undressed him with her eyes. She discovered that under his robes he appeared to be an European, not one of the locals. A tall and rather well built European. Almost as well built as Greg.

"Well, young lady. I could offer you company and protection," he grinned at her. "You would then no longer be an unaccompanied and unprotected woman."

She knew just what kind of protection he was offering. Men were all alike, whether they were Arion or Terran. Deciding that he would be of no help in helping her contact the Fatidah, she thought that she should be back on her way. But, maybe not just quite yet. She was still feeling the effects of the arousal from the electrical current that had allowed her to break free of the enclosing chains. "Let me offer you my protection instead. I always offer Terrans a choice. But only one choice. If you let go of me right now, I will let you live."

"YOU will let ME live?" He almost released her arm as his large body rocked with his laughter. "That is no way for a woman to talk to the man who is going to accompany and protect her."

"And just how do you intend to protect me?" she asked coyly as she covered the hand on her arm with her free hand. Squeezing firmly but not hard enough to break anything, she broke his grip and tossed him back across the alley to hit against the far wall.


Anton was surprised as he felt her hand loosen his grip on her arm. He was even more surprised when he felt himself flying backwards to hit against the far wall of the alley. He hadn't even seen her move anything other than that one arm. He shook his head to clear it.

Nobody does that to him! Certainly not a woman. Not a beautiful young woman like this one. He sprang back up to his feet and charged at her. Somewhat to his surprise she just stood there smiling at him with her hands on her hips. Clenching his large fists he threw a flurry of blows at her face. He put everything into his blows, with the result that he broke most of the bones in both hands. He stumbled backwards, clutching both hands to his stomach. He looked up to see her still smiling at him, not a single mark on her pretty face from his blows.


"I take that to mean that you're not letting me go," she said. "You might have killed somebody else like that, but not me." She walked forward, leaning over him while he slowly slid down the wall, his broken hands still clutched to his stomach. "I do not wish to see you suffer any more. I will allow you a quick death." Remembering how soft Colonel Bedorsky's skull had been between her hands, she decided to use just one hand this time.

Keeping her left hand on her hip, she put her right hand over his face. Her fingers slowly caressed his cheek, much as a lover might do, enjoying the bristly feel of his beard.


Ignoring the pain in his hands, he reached into his robes and drew one of his knifes. As she caressed his face, he slashed for her face. He was stunned as the knife blade dimpled into her cheek, and then snapped off.


Jenine blinked her eyes in surprise. Her free hand came up to brush her cheek, finding a few jagged splinters of steel. She then grabbed the man's hand and squeezed, completely crushing the hand.

Before he could do much more than open his eyes in surprise, she turned his face sideways to the wall and gave a little push, her slender fingers shattering his cheekbones and driving into his skull, penetrating the brain case. Using the man's long flowing robe, she quickly wiped the blood and gore from her hand. Then she calmly resumed her briefly interrupted journey towards the docks.

Soon Jenine reached the dock area. Ignoring the stares and remarks of the sailors and longshoremen, she walked down the docks until she was just one dock away from the freighter. A row of armed soldiers kept people away from that dock. She knew that they couldn't keep her away if she wanted to go further, she was still feeling energized from the electrical current that Colonel Bedorsky had given her. But there was no need for her to go any further. She could see all she needed to see from right where she stood.

She was one dock away from what was left of the freighter. The hull was still afloat, barely, but the superstructure had been shot up. It was obvious that a fire had ravaged parts of the ship. She squinted her eyes, but could not find any trace of the cargo she had carried on board. She saw that the deck plates she had ripped up and then so carefully replaced had been cut open.

Looking around herself, she could find no bodies. Apparently all of the wounded and the dead, of both sides, had been taken care of. Even the wreckage from the armored cars had been mostly cleaned up. She turned around and began walking along the waterfront, trying to decide upon a course of action.

She desperately wanted to recover her package. Her primary duty was to guard it, and now she didn't even know where it was. Even though she could see through the ordinary walls when she squinted, the sprawling city was just too big. And there were enough places where even her eyesight couldn't penetrate. Briefly, she regretted having killed Colonel Bedorsky so quickly, before he could tell her where they had taken it.

Her training had not quite prepared her for this. They hadn't even bothered to teach her the predominant language here. Not only could she not even understand a single word, she couldn't even read the signs, they used a totally different script from what she had been taught. And the overall behavior of the people here was different too.

She noticed the patrolling soldiers. They also noticed her, but only as an attractive Western woman. A woman like that could not be connected with the terrorists who had been on that freighter. Sure, there had been one of those alien super women working with them, but after she had been felled by a tank, her body had been removed and taken to the special facility halfway across the city.

This was her first assignment, and she was failing in carrying it out. She had lost contact with the people she was supposed to be working with. More importantly, she had lost the package she was supposed to have been guarding. The Terran nuclear warhead that was intended to remove one of the non-Arion controlled governments in the region, at the other end of the Mediterranean. To remove not only the government, but also the entire nation!

She was walking between two warehouses when her sensitive hearing allowed her to pick up someone calling her name. A voice that definitely sounded familiar. She whirled around. It only took a moment before she located the source.

Jenine saw Greg and another man under a stack of wooden packing crates. At first she though that they were fighting. But as she approached them, they realized out they were under the stack, hiding from the soldiers. She walked up to them. She recognized the other man as someone she had seen a few times on board the freighter. Reaching out with one hand, she grabbed the first crate, filled with nearly a ton of machine parts, and lifted it up and out of the way so the two men could get up.


Greg was definitely happy to see Jenine again. And judging from her reaction, she seemed to be rather happy to see him as well. Again, Greg marveled at her strength as she hugged him tight and picked him up in her powerful arms. Her blouse kept her magnificent muscles out of view, mostly. It was all he could do to gasp out a few words about their being watched.

Hassan thought that Greg and Jenine were going to engage in some more of their shameless lovemaking. Instead, Jenine put Greg down and he introduced Hassan and Jenine to each other.

"We go now to contact Fatidah," Hassan explained to her what the men had been attempting to do.

"You know how to contact the Fatidah?" she asked. Perhaps they could help her retrieve her 'package'. Even if they were only weak Terrans, they possessed knowledge she didn't. They knew their city.

"My uncle Abdul, he one of leaders of Fatidah in Casablanca."

Some residents of Casablanca saw an odd sight, a large Western man and a smaller Arabic man in water-stained clothes accompanying a beautiful raven-haired young woman in a miniskirt walking together through the narrow streets of the city. The people of Casablanca was accustomed to harboring fugitives from the law and other people who did not want to be found; they took little notice of the odd trio. They made it to their destination without serious incident, only twice having to evade patrolling soldiers, the people actually helping them to hide in the marketplace.


Rachel had spent almost the entire eighteen years of her life in a culture that treated women at best as second-class citizens. She was subject to her father's every whim. The only thing she had been able to resist was his numerous attempts to arrange a favorable marriage for her. Favorable for him, that is. None of the prospective matches, all of them relatives of his business associates, had interested her in the least. She felt no desire to become the property of another man. The two years she had spent going to school in England had taught her that much, at the very least.

She had immediately realized that this alien woman was exactly the type of woman she herself had always wanted to be. Jenine had the strength, the power, to not be subservient to a man, any man. Not to mention her incredible beauty. As she and her mother had helped bathe and dress her, she had marveled at her trim body, the steely muscles rippling under her silky smooth skin. A woman like her would not be the mere property of a man, not of any man.


Abdul was a successful businessman, as had been his father before him. He had been educated in France and England, and spoke both French and English as well as he spoke his native Arabic. His grandfather had come from Riyadh and had started the business by selling radios. Now his business was the largest distributor of electronics in Casablanca, one of the largest in all of Morocco.

Unknown to most of the people around him, he was also one of the leaders of the Fatidah movement in Casablanca. A group dedicated to the cause of Arab freedom, for Arab people all over the world. Especially those in Palestine, living under the Israeli yoke. In fact, the guests at his house were supposed to have brought a device guaranteed to win their freedom from the Jews.

He called for a meeting at his house of the leaders of the Fatidah. First his wife and daughter had helped the alien woman dress in the Moorish fashion, to make her more acceptable to the other Arab men. She had opposed the idea at first, she had not wanted to wear so much clothing. The man with her, the sailor Greg, had finally convinced her to go along.

Even when she was dressed properly, two of the other men had opposed the idea of a woman being present at the meeting. Their opposition had died out when she had taken each of the men by the neck and held them aloft just below the ceiling. Barely able to breathe, they had meekly nodded when she had asked them if they still objected to her presence. She had then dropped them to the floor, where they knelt gasping for several minutes to get their breath back.

Jenine desperately wanted her package back. It was her responsibility, and hers alone, to deliver it to the very people in this room. It annoyed her to ask for their help in recovering it, but she knew that by herself she would have a very difficult time finding it, let alone retrieving it. She already had had one taste of the advanced Terran weaponry; it was not an experience she cared to repeat very soon, though she knew that any Terran who had tasted that experience would not be in a position to repeat any experience afterwards.

The men wanted the freedom of the men who had been captured in the battle at the docks. They had all heard about the battle, and about Jenine's one-woman stand. Some had actually been at the docks awaiting the delivery and had seen some of it. They also wanted the package, but wanted the release of their brothers more. They wanted Jenine to attack the army headquarters where they were being held, an old Moorish fortress on a hill overlooking the city. They were all agreed that the army would not give up the package without a fight. And no one wanted the bomb detonated in Casablanca, or anywhere else in Morocco. No, that bomb was intended for Israel and the Jews.

Jenine didn't want to face those advanced weapons again for mere Terrans, though she was diplomatic enough not to express herself in quite those terms. Fortunately for her, Abdul himself said that the army was liable to immediately execute the prisoners if they attempted to storm the fortress. Between Abdul, Hassan, and Greg, they persuaded the others to send a message to the army demanding the release of the prisoners, including the officers and crew of the freighter, or else face retaliations. Retaliations that they would ask the only woman in the room to take! The message was sent that very night.


It did not take the army very long to respond to the Fatidah demands. Shortly before dawn the soldiers arrested two of the leaders and shot a third one trying to escape. Abdul and his family were spared; he was not generally known to be with the Fatidah.

"Jenine, please. We beg you."

"But Hassan, I can't attack the fortress. They would be waiting for me to do exactly that. They would be ready for me. They took me down at the docks once before, if I go into their lair I would not come out again."

"But those men! They are our brothers!" Hassan pleaded.

"Yes, Hassan. They are our brothers. But they are not her brothers. She is right. We cannot ask her to storm the fortress. That would only endanger her as well as our brothers. And our cause."

"But Abdul!"

"No, Hassan." Abdul turned to her. "We will not ask you to attack the fortress. There are too many soldiers there; there have too many weapons there. But the soldiers in the streets, they will not be as heavily armed."

"Yes, their lighter weapons could not hurt me."


Later that day Abdul took Jenine, Greg, and Hassan for a stroll through the streets of Capablanca. In the heat of the midday sun, there were not too many people out and about.

They were walking down an empty street when they encountered an army patrol. Four soldiers came the other way, riding on an old American Jeep. As they approached the four stepped into an alley. Jenine quickly stripped off her robes and handed them to Greg, revealing the small black bikini she was wearing underneath. She heard, but ignored, the gasps from the two Arabs. The robes may be good for concealment, hiding her body and her muscles, but they got in her way when she needed to use those muscles.


The soldiers were on a routine patrol. They had all heard about the battle at the docks the day before. And about the alien super woman who had given the army a very difficult time, before one of the Russian tanks had taken her out. They had also heard rumors that she was still alive and had escaped from the Russian captivity. But their primary mission, as it so often was, was to search out elements of terrorist organizations, especially the Fatidah.

They had been talking about those stories they had heard about the alien super woman. They had heard that bullets didn't seem to bother her, that she had even withstood direct hits from several anti-tank rockets. The man sitting behind the driver, the youngest of the group, haltingly asked what they would do if they actually found her. They had no anti-tank rockets or other heavy weapons with them, only their rifles and a few hand grenades.

The sergeant was riding in the front seat. He didn't really believe those stories about the super woman. How could somebody not be affected by bullets, let alone anti-tank rockets? "If she shows up around us, I'll hit her with my rocket. She won't be able to withstand my rocket!" he laughed, gesturing at his crotch. That broke the tension, his men laughed along with him.

"Well, don't kill her with yours. I want to use my rocket, too," the man behind the sergeant said.

As they turned the corner onto a nearly empty street they saw four people, all dressed in the Arab style, dash into an alley. That was a little suspicious, even for Casablanca. The driver headed for the alley as the other three readied their rifles.

As they reached the alley something came out towards them. The sergeant immediately saw that it was a slim raven-haired woman, wearing only a black bikini. The super woman! The alien super woman they had just been talking about. And laughing about. But this did not seem to be a laughing matter now! Before the stunned soldiers could react she had grasped the lower edge of the frame and lifted, almost bringing the Jeep to a standstill.


Abdul, Greg, and Hassan saw the muscles explode onto Jenine's back and arms as she lifted the entire left side of the Jeep up off of the ground. With just the right two tires on the ground, the Jeep spun around in a circle, pivoting around the woman until it slammed into the brick wall.

As the four dazed soldiers struggled to climb out of the wreckage Jenine hurled herself at them. Grasping a man's neck in each hand she lifted them out of the Jeep. She held both of them aloft over her head and turned around, ignoring the men's kicking and screaming. She took a few long running strides across the street before hurling the two men the rest of the way across the street. They hit the wall about eight feet above the ground and slid down to the ground. The men were dead before they reached the ground, their lifeless bodies completely smashed by the impact against the hard stone wall.

The other two soldiers recovered enough to raise their rifles. As Jenine turned around to face them they opened fire. It was a complete and total mismatch, two armed soldiers against a young unarmed woman in a bikini! Their bullets merely bounced off of her smooth skin, leaving only lead smears behind.


Jenine felt the tingling sensation as the bullets pinged against her body. Putting her hands on her hips, she smiled and walked towards the remaining two soldiers. They continued shooting her until their clips were empty. The bullets hitting her chest did no more than strike sparks and make her breasts bounce. She reached out and grasped the still hot barrels. Easily twisting the rifles out of their grasps, she bent the barrels before throwing them aside.

The two soldiers began to back away from the woman. The barely dressed woman who had destroyed their Jeep and now their weapons with her bare hands! Then her arms blurred as she grabbed both of them about their necks. She lifted them up over head before turning and throwing them at the far wall. These two were both dead before they hit the wall, their windpipes crushed and their necks broken.


Jenine turned around and casually dusted her hands off as she walked back to the alley and the three men. Their eyes and mouths were still wide open in amazement at Jenine's awesome display of her feminine power. Greg felt himself again becoming wildly aroused as he saw her using her marvelous strength, her gorgeous muscles! God she was magnificent! However he was also the first to recover; he had seen more of Jenine's abilities, and more of Jenine, than the others had. He stepped forward, holding her robes out to her.

Jenine took the bundle of clothes and casually tossed them aside. She stepped forward and put her arms around Greg's neck, kissing his neck and whispering into his ear. "Can you get rid of the others? I need to do something else after using my muscles like that."

Greg had some idea of what she was talking about; this wouldn't be the first time. She had reacted similarly after she had brought down that jet bomber outside the harbor. She wanted that 'something else' to renew her strength. He made some excuses to Abdul and Hassan, telling them that they would get home on their own. The two Arabs had hardly exited the alley and turned the corner before he found himself on the ground on his back with her bending over him and removing his clothes.

Greg did not see Abdul and Hassan search the wreckage of the jeep. Nor did he see them strip the dead soldiers of their remaining weapons before heading for home.


The battle had been joined! It really was not a fair contest, the entire Casablanca garrison against Jenine and the Fatidah. The soldiers were completely outmanned, or rather, completely outwomanned, by the young warrior from the stars!

She had the initiative, being able to strike wherever and whenever she chose. She could move throughout the city at will, the long robes giving her complete anonimity, the veils hiding her bright blue eyes and letting her blend in with the populace. The Fatidah agents could report on any troop movements, letting Jenine avoid them or engage them as she chose before melting back into the background.

Casablanca became a battlefield. Unfortunately for the soldiers, an army uniform was the worst possible thing to be wearing. Soldiers were not safe on the streets of Casablanca when Jenine was on the prowl, as she was every night.

Casablanca lay in a state of siege. But it was a siege like no other siege in the history of the planet! For the besieging force was within the city. And that force consisted of a lone woman! One super woman from the stars!

Many armed patrols went out onto the streets, never to return. The soldiers' lifeless bodies would be found in the morning, stripped of anything of value if the locals found them before the army did.

Sometimes Jenine would go in the company of Abdul or Hassan, as they knew the city best. Sometimes she would go in the company of Abdul's daughter, Rachel, as two women alone would seem less threatening. Once she went in the company of Greg, both dressed in the Western style.

The Russian contingent was of no help. After the death of Colonel Bedorsky, the Russian leadership wanted absolutely nothing to do with what to the outside world looked like a purely internal affair. Russian soldiers were forbidden to leave their bases. Without the Russians and their heavy weapons, without their tanks with their depleted-uranium shells, the Moroccans had nothing that could come close to stopping Jenine.

The only Russian troops still deployed in Casablanca were those at the hilltop fortress guarding the prisoners and those at their army base guarding the recovered warhead. The Russian leadership was making preparations to remove the warhead from Morocco, both for political reasons and a more pragmatic reason. They wanted their troops out of the line of fire. Not out of the Moroccan army's line of fire, but out of Jenine's line of fire!

The Moroccan army resorted to sending out larger and more heavily armed patrols. They had no better success against the lone woman who was ravaging their forces. Jenine could simply choose not to attack the stronger forces, picking off the smaller patrols.

Even a dozen soldiers armed with submachine guns and backed by a couple of Jeep-mounted anti-tank cannon were no match for the woman from the stars! The only thing remaining after that battle was the battered and charred corpses of the soldiers and the twisted wreckage of the Jeeps. Greg had needed an entire day to renew his energy after helping Jenine renew her energy after that battle. Even though it had been Jenine's own strong fingers that had done most of the work that night.

The army retaliated by executing two of the prisoners that had been taken from the freighter, one sailor and one member of the Fatidah. The next morning a Moroccan army general was found in his bed, his skull crushed. There was a gaping hole in his bedroom wall and four soldiers outside, their skulls similarly crushed.

There were no further executions of prisoners. But there also was no release of prisoners.


Greg and Hassan were at the harbor meeting with a group of Fatidah members; they would not be back until the morning. As Jenine and Abdul came home after meeting with another Fatidah leader at his house, they noticed that the neighborhood was quieter than usual. As they came around the last corner they saw that the door was open. Not merely open, but actually ripped from its hinges.

Jenine's bright blue eyes sparkled, but she could see no soldiers inside. With a sense of foreboding they quickened their pace. As they entered, they saw that the house had been ransacked. As they searched, she came across the two bodies.

Both Abdul's wife and daughter had been stripped bare and raped. The mother was dead, her throat slit neatly from ear to ear. The girl was still alive, but only barely. Her throat had been partially slit, and the bruises on her body spoke of internal damage, which Jenine confirmed by squinting.

Abdul swore in Arabic. He switched to English for Jenine's benefit. "We must go get a doctor!"

Squinting, Jenine could see that the internal injuries were too severe. There was nothing the primitive Terran medical science could do for her now. There was only one possible way to save the girl's life. She had never done this herself, but she knew what had to be done. "No, you must help me, Abdul. If you wish to save your daughter's life, you must make love to me. Now!"

"But we must..."

"Make love to me now! For your Rachel's sake." She reached out and took hold of him with one hand while her other hand began stripping off her robes. As her robes fell away from her she began undressing him.

"Jenine! What are you doing? This is not the time. We must get a doctor!"

She pulled him closer to her. "No, Abdul. This is the only way to save her life. You must make love to me, now." She wished that it was Greg who was with her now, instead of the older, smaller Arab. But she realized that she had no choice, not if she wanted to save the girl's life.


The next half hour was the most incredible experience in Abdul's life. The young alien super woman gently and carefully encouraging him to make love to her. As she stood over Rachel, her strong arms holding his body to hers, they had made slow and delicious love. The wetness of Jenine's arousal falling from her legs to fall on into Rachel's open mouth. Abdul was neither too old nor too small for her purposes, his manly powers not totally diminished by age, the attraction of a young Arion Prime woman enough to bring back any of his powers that had become latent.


Rachel slowly regained consciousness. The last thing she remembered was the army soldiers raping her and her mother. They had come looking for her father, and had not left completely unsatisfied. Now she recognized that she was in her own room, in her own bed.

She knew that the soldiers could never have done anything like that to someone like Jenine. If Jenine had been here, the soldiers could not have done anything like that to anyone.

Oddly, she did not feel any physical pain, only extreme tiredness. She remembered the soldiers battering her body after they were through with her and her mother. She was sure her left arm had been broken. Her very last sight had been of the knife slashing for her throat. She tried to reach her hands to her throat, but found that she was too tired to move her arms. Exhausted from the mere effort, she fell into a dreamless slumber.

When she awoke again, she saw Jenine bending over her. When she tried to sit up, Jenine put a hand on her shoulder and kept her recumbent. "Don't try to get up. Lie still. You still need to rest."

She gave up the effort to sit up. Instead, she asked Jenine, remembering to speak in English, "My mother! How is she?"

Jenine did not answer her. Not in words, but Rachel could see the answer in Jenine's normally bright blue eyes.

Just then her father entered the room, followed by Hassan and Greg. When he saw that she was awake, her father dropped to his knees to give his thanks to Allah. Hassan also dropped to his knees behind his uncle, adding his thanks to Allah for his cousin's recovery.

Jenine spoke to her again. "I have to go out tonight. Stay in bed and rest. When I come home, we need to talk, just you and I." Then Jenine and Greg left for her nightly patrol.

Rachel slept fitfully, wondering just what Jenine wanted to talk with her about. She also wondered why she felt no pain. She could feel no scars on her body, not even on her throat. She had felt that knife going in! And her arm, the one she was certain had been broken, showed absolutely nothing out of the ordinary as she moved it around, flexing her elbow and moving her wrist.

She also thought about the long talks she had already had with Jenine. Her father had given her the responsibility for teaching Jenine how to behave as an Arabic woman in a Moorish city. Jenine had been disgusted at the way women were expected to behave. Rachel had shared that feeling.

In the early hour of the morning she awoke to hear voices coming from downstairs. The male voices seemed to be arguing about something. She thought she heard the word 'Fatidah' several times. Thinking that it was just her father and his Fatidah acquaintances, she was just about to roll over and go back to sleep when the door to her room burst open.

Startled, she rolled back over and saw two armed soldiers entering her room. Not again! She had just gone through this!

The first soldier roughly grabbed her arm and tried to pull her out of her bed. Instinctively she tried to draw her arm back. She was startled as the soldier flew across the room, his grip on her arm loosening as he landed heavily on the floor on the other side of her.

The other soldier leaped for her, landing on the bed on top of her. She tried to push him off of her. She was startled yet again as he flew up from the bed, hitting the ceiling before coming back down to crash onto the floor beside her bed.

Getting up, she briefly examined the two soldiers, one on each side of her bed. They both seemed to be dead, neither one was breathing. Just to make sure, she placed her hand on one head and the other on the shoulder. She gave the head a quick twist. She heard and felt the bones in his neck snap as the head spun around completely backwards. She lightly jumped back across the bed and repeated the process with the second soldier. Now the two soldiers were definitely dead.

She had killed them with her bare hands! But how? Only Jenine could have done something like that! She thought about the lack of pain, the lack of any scars. Had Jenine somehow healed her and made her into somebody like her? How was that possible? Was it some advanced alien medical science? Or was it a gift from Allah?

The sound of voices downstairs brought her thoughts back to her present situation. If the soldiers were here, they could only have come for one purpose. To arrest her father! If she truly was like Jenine now, she could stop them and protect her father. She threw on a light robe and hurried downstairs.

Emerging from the stairway, she saw more soldiers. Four of them were holding her father and her cousin, while two others were standing in front of them, hitting them in the stomach and face. Another soldier, apparently an officer, sat in a chair looking on and puffing on a cigar.

She tried to think how Jenine would handle this situation. Using her most authoritative tone of voice, she called out, "Stop that! Let them go!"

At least the beatings stopped, as the soldiers all turned to look at her. Two other soldiers whom she hadn't seen stepped from beside the stairway, one on each side of her, and grabbed hold of her arms. She thought that they must be holding her arms quite tight, but she could barely feel them.

The officer slowly rose to his feet. Taking a long pull on his cigar, he blew out a perfect smoke ring. "Well well, what have we here? Perhaps a lovely gift for us hard-working soldiers?"

"So, you desire a gift? Then let the men go. I may consider letting you live." The officer and the men began laughing at her offer.

She brought her arms in front of her, pulling the two men with them. Getting her hands on their uniforms she tossed them across the room, bouncing them off of the far wall.

She heard the gasps of surprise from the officer and his men. The officer's cigar fell forgotten from his mouth. The men holding her father and cousin released their charges, the two men slumping down to the floor, conscious but unable to remain on their feet.

Two of the men picked up their rifles and pointed them at her. Rachel was frozen with fear. She didn't know whether whatever Jenine had done had prepared her for this. Before she could react they opened fire.

The two bullets hit against her chest and stomach, ripping gaping holes in her thin robe. The impacts knocked her backwards. She staggered against the wall and fell to the floor. She had felt the impacts, but had felt no pain. She reached her hand inside what was left of her robe. When she pulled her hand out there was no sign of blood.

Allah is great! Whatever it was that Jenine, or Allah, had done for her, apparently she was now bulletproof, just like Jenine was.

A smile touched her lips as she rose to her feet. The officer took a few steps backwards even as he drew his sidearm. The soldiers now all had their rifles pointed at her, but definitely seemed unsure of themselves.

Continuing to smile, she began to walk towards them. The soldiers all retreated before her. Six armed soldiers and their leader were retreating before an unarmed girl in a tattered robe. With every step the soldiers took backwards, her confidence went up. With every step she took forwards, the soldiers' confidence went down.


The lieutenant had been enjoying the night's work. He and his squad of ten men had raided the house of a third-generation Arab suspected of sympathizing with the Fatidah. He had known that another squad had been here the night before. Those incompetents had failed to bring in their quarry. But, by the Prophet, he was not going to fail!

They had made it to the Arab Quarter through the streets of Casablanca without encountering that alien super woman who was attacking their patrols, seemingly without a pattern. Now six of his men were 'interrogating' the two men they had found downstairs, while the other four searched the rest of the house. Befitting of the owner's status as a wealthy merchant, the house was both large and elegant. He settled himself into a comfortable chair and lit up one of his host's cigars to watch the interrogation. One of the main tings that he wanted to know was the whereabouts of the alien super woman.

He was just starting to enjoy things when there were two loud crashes from upstairs. He was just about to send some more of his men up the stairs to investigate when a young Arabic girl came down the stairs.

The two men he had just been about to send upstairs grabbed her. He rose to his feet to address the lady. "Well well, what have we here? Perhaps a lovely gift for us hard-working soldiers?" he asked the girl, who appeared to be about eighteen.

"So, you desire a gift? Then let the men go. I may consider letting you live," the girl replied.

He thought that that was outrageously funny. Did this girl think that she was the super woman who was terrorizing Casablanca? As he started laughing his men joined in.

He did not think that what followed was funny at all. She had picked up the two men who held her and effortlessly thrown them across the room.

One of his men started shooting at her. The impacts knocked the girl backward against the wall. She reached a hand inside her robe. He thought she might be reaching for a weapon, but she withdrew her hand empty. She then got up, smiling at him. He instinctively took a few steps backwards as he drew his automatic.

His eyes were focused on the girl's chest. She had not bothered to close her robe after withdrawing her hand, and her left breast was almost completely exposed. He aimed at the exposed breast, and the heart underneath it, and fired. The breast bounced with the impact, but otherwise it seemed to have no other effect, as she looked down to where it had hit her.


This time she braced herself in anticipation. The bullet hit her left breast. She felt a sharp tingling sensation where the bullet had struck. Looking down, she realized that her left breast was almost completely exposed, still bouncing slightly from the impact.

She reached up with her left hand to steady her breast. She was still amazed that there was no blood, no pain. Only a light lead smear where the slug had hit. As she rubbed the smear off of her breast, she again felt the tingling sensation spreading out from her breast. Her fingers continued to stroke her breast. Oh, that felt so good!


The lieutenant saw the girl caressing her exposed breast where his bullet had hit. The bullet had seemed to have no effect, other than perhaps getting her aroused. He knew that he had to stop her. "Fire! Cut her down!" he ordered his men.

After the briefest of hesitations, his men opened fire with their rifles. Even with the faster velocities and heavier slugs the rifles seemed to have no effect on her. But they did have an effect on her clothing, shredding the remainder of her robe.


The sharp pinging of the rifle bullets brought her mind back to the situation at hand. These men had broken into their house and had been beating her father and cousin. And they had tried to kill her!

The initial onslaught drove her back, forcing her to take a couple of steps backwards to remain on her feet. Bracing herself again, she discovered that she could stand her ground against these powerful weapons. Even more, she discovered that she could actually make headway, literally walking into a hail of bullets. A hail of bullets that were bouncing off of her body and burying themselves into the plaster walls, tearing jagged holes in the wall hangings. An occasional bullet would ricochet into a window, shattering the glass pane.

She could see the fear in the soldiers' eyes as she continued to walk towards them. They began backing away from her again, until they could retreat no further, their backs against the wall.

She reached out and grabbed the two rifle barrels closest to her. A simple twist of her wrists proved adequate to wrench the rifles from the soldiers' grasps. It was also adequate to crush the hard gunmetal of the barrels. Dropping the now useless weapons, two slaps of her hands sent the soldiers flying across the room. One knocked over a chair before hitting the far wall, the other crashed into a table that shattered from the impact.

She didn't see the results of her slaps, she was already walking towards the next two soldiers, ignoring the bullets which continued to bounce off of her chest and stomach. She ripped their rifles out of their grasps and struck their heads, their skulls crushing under the impact of her small fists.

The officer and the two remaining men had seen enough. They dropped their weapons and ran for the door. She ran for the door, trying to cut off their escape. She was surprised to find herself at the door before the men were even halfway there. The two soldiers ran into her fists. Her fists did not stop there, but went through their faces, shattering their skulls.


The lieutenant stopped in his tracks, his last remaining men crumpling to the floor beside him. Between him and the door was the young girl, her robe now no more than a few tattered strips of cloth.

She did not seem disturbed at her state of undress. Perhaps she didn't even realize it. Lowering her arms, she put her hands on her hips. Smiling at him, she said, "I offered you a gift, which you turned down. For that, you will die!" Keeping her hands on her hips, she began walking towards him.

He turned and ran for the back of the house. But somehow he found that he wasn't going anywhere. He realized that she had him by the shoulders, his feet a foot off the floor. She spun him around and put her arms around him.


As she held the officer in her arms, she felt the wetness between her legs. She realized that the bullets hitting her breasts had affected her. They had aroused her. Aroused her sexually. She pulled him closer to her, bringing his chest against her exposed breasts.


He struggled against her, trying to push himself away from her. But even with all of his strength, he discovered that he could not make any difference in her tightening embrace. He kicked, bringing his left leg up between hers, his thigh going up into her crotch, the tattered remains of her robe not impeding his leg in the slightest.


She felt his leg hitting her crotch. This was the first time she had ever had a man touch her there. She discovered that she liked that feeling. Instinctively she tightened her thighs, trapping his leg between hers. That felt even better. As she tightened both her arms and her legs further, she felt some resistance. Then the resistance ended as his thighbone shattered, crushed by her legs.


He screamed as he felt his leg break. Then he could scream no more as all of the air was driven out of his lungs, her soft breasts pressing against his ribcage with tremendous force. He continued to push against her, his hands on her shoulders, but could not ease the pressure against his chest at all. As the pressure on his chest increased he blacked out.


She closed her eyes, enjoying the intimate embrace, the most intimate embrace she had ever had with a man. She did not realize that she had crushed his leg, nor did she realize that she was crushing his ribcage. It felt so good to have something against her sex, to have something against her breasts. She squeezed him tighter, pulling him tighter against her body.

She heard some cracking sounds coming from just in front of her. Opening her eyes, she realized that she had just crushed the officer's ribcage, his hard muscular chest having been no match for her soft breasts.

Dropping his lifeless body, she shook her head to clear it. Looking around herself, she realized what she had just done. Her father and cousin were lying huddled on the floor. She quickly went over to them.

She saw that her father and her cousin were still alive. In fact, they didn't seem to be hurt much at all, the beatings had been intended to inflict pain, not injury.

Her father managed to struggle to his feet. Walking to her, he put his arms around her. "Oh, my daughter! You are recovered! I feared that I would not see you again in this world!" He kissed her on both cheeks.

"Apparently, Father, I've more than just recovered." She did not put her arms around him, she was afraid of accidentally hurting him with her new strength. She remembered what she had done to that officer.

Cousin Hassan gave her a brief hug and kissed her on both cheeks. As with her father, she did not hug him back.

Leaving the men, she quickly retrieved the bodies of the soldiers, including the two in her room. She marveled at how light they felt, the bodies feeling as if they weighed nothing at all. She stacked them up in the front room, just inside of the door.


Greg was coming back home after accompanying Jenine on another successful 'hunt'. Soldiers were actually getting harder to find at night, as the army seemed almost willing to cede the night to Jenine and the Fatidah. They'd had to go almost to the gates of the barracks tonight. Eventually they had found a patrol of six soldiers. Jenine had made quick work of them. As they approached Abdul's house, he noticed that the door, which he had helped replace that morning, was again off of its hinges. Most of the windows in front were broken. No! They couldn't have come again! With a groan, he quickened his pace. Jenine became a blur as she left his side and ran to enter the house.

The first thing he noticed when he entered the house was the soldiers. Lots of soldiers. They were stacked on the floor like so much firewood. Then he noticed the wreckage in the room, much of the furniture overturned and even broken. Then he saw Abdul and Hassan, bruised but definitely alive, sitting on the floor cleaning their wounds.

Looking further, he saw Jenine and Rachel. Rachel was almost completely naked, only a few strips of cloth hanging about her shoulders. He thought that she had nice breasts, but almost immediately dismissed that thought. Rachel had her arms at her sides. Jenine held Rachel's shoulders, talking to her in a low voice.


Rachel listened as Jenine explained what had happened to her. She was now more Arion Prime than Terran, her strength more than that of a thousand men. Her skin was now, as she knew from experience, bulletproof. Even an exploding shell probably would not cut her skin.

Jenine also told her about other things. Things best told to a woman by another woman. With her mother dead, in some ways Jenine was now her mother. After all she now had more of Jenine's DNA in her cells than she did either of her parents'.

Rachel knew now that her father was not going to be able to force her into a marriage she did not approve of. No man was ever going to force her into anything she did not agree to. She could have any man she wanted for a husband, she did not have to settle for a marriage that was advantageous for her father. If she even wanted a husband, that is.

But why should she settle for just one husband? She thought about turning an old Arab tradition backwards. Maybe she could have a harem of men, their only purpose being to please her.

But first, she was going to have to help Jenine and her father free her Fatidah brothers from their imprisonment.


Thus the siege of Capablanca continued. But now the besieging force consisted of two people. Two women. One born among the stars, one born on Earth but still of the stars nonetheless.