MARSA1-Part A Mar-Sa The Ultra-Girl Book One/Part One The Girl of Tungsten Steel by Jim Robert Bader August 21, 1997 (First Copyrights Only) 00000000 000 000 000 vvvvvv 000 000 VVVVVVVVVVVV 000 000 VVVVVVVVV 000 000 VVVVVVV 000 000 VVVVV 000 000 VVV 000 000 V 000 000000000 MAR-SA, THE ULTRA-GIRL by Jim Robert Bader Book One. The Girl Of Tungsten Steel Chapter Five. Wild Maneuvers "Come in, Commander," Dar-Kem directed, then continued once the dour-faced Head of Security had entered his chamber, "I have been reviewing the records concerning this case, and I must say that I am most impressed with the thoroughness of your investigation." "I am pleased that you find it so, Councilor," Commander Kas-Par replied from a formal position, "Technical division has worked continuously since this investigation commenced, seeking to isolate the illegal tapping of the power- grid in sector Tra-Ber-Cha. The repeated irregularities in output cycle were finally traced to the underground location that we raided six cycles ago, but I regret to report that we failed to apprehend all of those involved. Only that their leader, ex-Councilor Kar-Tor, was found and executed at the site..." "Executed?" Dar-Kem asked with a shrewd expression, "I was given to understand that your agents found no body." "That is so, my Lord," Kas-Par noted, "But all reliable information confirms that he died in the explosion that destroyed most of his unregistered laboratory. I lost two of my men in the blast..." "Yes," Dar-Kem said, "Regrettable but necessary losses. Still there is no confirmation that Kar-Tor himself was killed in the blast." "You believe that he practiced a deception?" Kas-Par frowned ever so slightly, "To what avail? He simply prolongs the inevitable when he will be found and punished for his transgressions." "There are things you obviously do not know about Councilor Kar-Tor," Dar-Kem said cryptically, "And with good reason. The Council itself has rendered the matter too sensitive even for high-level access. It may surprise you to know that there are some facts that even Internal Security is not privy to..." "Not so," Kas-Par replied, "I have always been aware of this fact. There are many matters that the High Council have classified for generations. I always believed that these matters were of a Need-to-Know nature." "And you are right, as always," Dar-Kem said in a completely level voice, "But now the time has come when you must know more about the nature of the prey that you are pursuing. Kar-Tor has proven himself too dangerous for ordinary means of neutralization, and with this latest transgression against the will of the Council he has jeopardized the security not only of Ninjarma Province but possibly of Wolframa itself. Tell me what you know about Kar-Tor and I will endeavor to fill in such gaps as would be necessary for your investigation." "What I know about Kar-Tor is that he heads a dissident faction of malcontents operating undetected in our society," Kas-Par replied, "With possible connections to our rivals among the Domes and various factions that are scattered about in other provinces throughout the whole of our world. Since he resigned his seat on the Council he has made the appearance of peaceable retirement the shield behind which he plots subversive activities, but until now there has never been sufficient evidence to warrant his arrest..." "We have always known that Kar-Tor is resourceful and have kept a careful watch over his doings," Dar-Kem said matter-of-factly, "Had we wished to act against him we could have found any number of reasons. Evidence against him has not been all that hard to obtain, but for our own reasons we have allowed Kar-Tor to remain at large, always believing that we were no more than one step behind him and his organization." "Then you will forgive my ignorance, sir," Kas-Par replied, "I have been given to understand that his latest activities were something of a surprise..." "He surprised us," Dar-Kem explained, "The truth is that we were mislead about the nature of his current dealings and thought his research harmless. Obviously that has proven to be a gross miscalculation." "I would not presume to suggest such a thing," Kas-Par replied. "But that was your conclusion," Dar-Kem said with a smile that had no humor behind it, "You are a careful man, Commander, and that is good. You are also forthright and dedicated to your profession, which are qualities that we like about you. You can think heresy while remaining loyal to the state and those of us who are its servants. These qualities have enabled you to rise through the ranks, but now..." "This matter is of that much importance?" Kas-Par lifted an eyebrow, "But how can one dissident former member of the Council..." "That is recent history," Dar-Kem replied, "Tell me, Commander, just how old do you believe Kar-Tor to be?" "Official records of his birth state that he was born one hundred and thirty-two Annual rotations past," Kar-Tor replied, "What in pre-Cataclysmic times would claim to be the Old Order year three thousand ninety-seven..." "Then how would you account for this unofficial chronicle that I am about to make known to you?" Dar-Ken asked as an image appeared over his desk in full holo-relief displaying numbers and symbols alongside a surprisingly long list of categories and entries. Kas-Par was not a man who easily betrayed surprise, but his expression registered incredulity as he rapidly scanned the listings, then said, "Surely this is not an official document?" "Hardly," Dar-Kem replied, "Do you think that we would allow such a thing to exist in a form that anyone could access with the right level of clearance? This log is among the most classified records in existence, kept in complete isolation from even the most secure data storage devices. Registrars sworn to uphold these hidden truths at the cost of their very lives constantly update it. Its existence is denied by all who know of it, yet it does exist because we few who are allowed to know of this record have need of such information if we are to have any understanding of the sort of Heretic that we are dealing with. You must understand that this can never become a part of the official record." "I understand," Kas-Par replied, "But I do not understand these records. How can the Renegade Councilor have been active for so long? Sure his identity must be shared by generations of rebels..." "There is only one like him," Dar-Kem said ominously, "Every record confirms that it was the same man who lived these lives and performed these actions in pursuit of his own private agenda." "But how?" Kas-Par marveled, "The best Medical Science of our time can prolong the lifespan for many cycles, but to have survived since ancient times..." "It does not matter what forbidden knowledge the renegade has employed to outlast empires and nations," Dar-Kem said, "What matters is that he poses a danger in the present, and so does the Apprentice Technician he had assigned to him prior to this most recent outrage." "The Apprentice Technician?" Kas-Par frowned, "I do not follow your reasoning..." "She was not found in the Laboratory," Dark-Kem said gravely, "Nor anywhere else around the site of the underground complex. She could not have survived on the surface, nor do we believe that she had time to evacuate to an escape route, yet she was confirmed to be present in Kar-Tor's lair just prior to the explosion." "Why is she important to this investigation?" Kas-Par asked. "She is important because Kar-Tor believed she was important to his schemes," Dar-Kem's reply was almost a reprimand, and he activated his desk display, which caused a holographic image to appear showing a young female whose hair was unusually long and unbound, not restrained in the current regulated fashion. For a moment Kas-Par looked at her image, and his expression betrayed more than puzzlement before he mastered himself and said, "I know this woman..." "You knew someone very much her once, I believe," Dar-Kem said ominously, "Her mother was a traitor executed many cycles ago, her father a Heretic and associate of Kar-Tor's. Her name is Mar-Sa, Citizen Chala-Marko-Bra-Vren, Anoly sector of Ninjarma Prime. She is twenty-seven cycles in age, the only surviving member of her disreputable House, taken under the wing of Kar-Tor, who assumed the duties of her Patron from a very young age. She has been in his care and under his influence for the past seven cycles where she has been receiving her advanced training in Structural Engineering. We believe he may have trained her in other fields, but the relevant point is that she has spent the last two cycles assisting her mentor in his heretical research. We believe she may be instrumental in a plot hatched by Kar-Tor to undermine the authority of the High Council." "I still fail to see in what manner," Kas-Par said, "The Daughter of Mar-Tan and Mar-Ta could hardly pose such a threat to our security..." "Speak plainly Commander," Dar-Kem said with sudden emphasis, "What was your opinion concerning Mar-Tan's heretical theories?" "Sir?" Kas-Par replied, then thought a moment before answering, "Astonishing if valid, but impossible to prove given all we know concerning the history of Wolframa..." "Theories that have long been held to be dangerous by the Council," Dark-Kem said sternly, "And theories that Kar-Tor clearly thought justified taking extreme measures, even at the risk of exposing his rather extensive organization." "If you deem his research a danger to state security, then of course it must be repressed..." Kas-Par began, but the Councilor cut him off. "I know that you respected the father," Dar-Kem said, "At one time he was acknowledged a brilliant researcher, but all that must be discarded if you are to be entrusted with their daughter's capture. You have reviewed the initial report on what was discovered in that laboratory, of course?" "Some manner of device whose nature and purpose has yet to be determined," Kas- Par replied. "We know its precise nature and purpose," Dar-Kem said without emotion, "I myself directed the technical research team to withhold our conclusions from official documentation. The device is a prototype mass conversion and transportation unit, capable of creating openings into the Subspace Void through which solid objects may be passed over vast differences within the space of a nanosecond. It is nothing less than the recreation of the very technology Mar- Tan once predicted would be found by exploration of the ancient tunnels discovered in his research." "Incredible," Kas-Par said in quiet amazement, "You mean to say that Mar-Tan was entirely correct in his assertions?" "I will only confirm that some parts of this theory did have a basis in fact," Dar-Kem said evasively, "His notion that our world was established as a mining community by an ancient-yet-highly-advanced technological culture has been established beyond question. That they would need to transport raw minerals off-world through such a device as this now seems equally incontrovertible." "Such a device could mean that travel between worlds is feasible," Kas-Par marveled. "Feasible?" Dar-Kem barked, "Kar-Tor has done it! He sent his Apprentice through a subspace Gate to another destination, possibly hundreds of lightcycles from this world, in violation of every law of our society!" "Sent where?" Kas-Par asked, reacting to the news with an incredulous expression. "That is the question," Dar-Kem replied, "Further inquiry will be needed to determine where precisely the focal point of the gateway was aimed. It will take time to construct a new device based upon what we have been able to piece together from the wreckage..." "Then you intend to explore the full dimensions of Kar-Tor's discovery?" Kas-Par asked. "No, Commander," Dar-Kem said, "Such a device will be constructed for only one purpose: to find and retrieve the fugitive, Mar-Sa." "And after this?" Kas-Par asked in confusion. "It will be dismantled and its components reconstituted for other needed purposes," Dar-Kem informed him. "But why?" said Kas-Par in astonishment. "We have our reasons," Dar-Kem said, "That should be sufficient." "With due respect to your authority, sir," Kas-Par replied, "I will need to understand your reasons if I am to continue this investigation." "Very well," Dar-Kem said, "But I remind you that this must never be repeated. As you already have suspected, the device itself requires considerable power to operate, which is how we became aware of what Kar-Tor was about in the first place. It would hardly be efficient to employ such a machine for anything but this one essential mission." "But the device could be the answer to all of our material needs!" Kas-Par protested, "If we can create a gate through which badly needed resources can be obtained from another world..." "No Commander," Dar-Kem said harshly, "It will not be that way. The Council itself decided this long ago when we chose to suppress Mar-Tan's research. It is forbidden for any of Wolframa to travel offworld and has been so since the beginning. To allow such a machine to tempt us with the lure of easy acquisition would be a betrayal of everything the Council stands for and prove too great to our citizens, who might seek refuge from our authority on worlds yet to be discovered. We cannot allow this, any more than we can allow a renegade to exist free from our influence. Such a thing would destroy the cohesiveness of society and potentially lead to anarchy on a scale unimaginable." "I see," Kas-Par said cautiously, "You are concerned that she might become a symbol. But how can we even known if the fugitive has survived transportation?" "That is part of the investigation that you will head," Dar-Kem informed him, "I am placing the Research Team under your direct authority. You will answer to me and make regular reports that I will in turn submit to the Council regarding your progress. You will assess your needs and file requests for material and personnel through me and I will see that you are provided with all of the resources that you will require. I expect results to come from your usual efficiency. I selected you because we have the utmost confidence in your methods. You will not fail us because the eyes of the Council itself will be upon you>" "I will, of course, endeavor to produce results, My Lord," Kas-Par acknowledged, "But you have given me a great deal upon which to think. Such an expedition is not to be entered into lightly." "I know you will make the necessary adjustments," Dar-Kem replied, "Oh, and one thing further: we have every confidence that a probe will be sufficient to the recovery and disposal of the fugitive, but there is always the chance that a human agent will need to be sent to effect retrieval. We have already taken the liberty of appointed a designated agent to hold in reserve whose loyalty and service makes him an ideal candidate for the kind of operation we are contemplating." Dar-Kem called up a new image over his desk, and now the holographic representation of a young man appeared, which startled Kas-Par every bit as much as had the image of the woman. "Your son, Kas-Trol," Dar-Kem remarked, "The very model of his father. I trust that you realize that this is a great honor for your House?" "But...why?" Kas-Par all but whispered. "Call it a guarantee of your devout loyalty," Dar-Kem replied, "You will obtain the results we need, and in a reasonable span of time. As I have already stated, this is a matter of the gravest importance, and no one is above concern where security is related. I trust you understand what I am saying?" "Perfectly," Kas-Par said softly, his body tense though he forced his expression to remain impassive. Dar-Kem allowed himself a smile, "It probably will not matter very much. As you say, the fugitive may have perished in transfer. If that is the case, then we will know when we activate our own device and use the remote Bioscanner to determine whether or not she still functions. If not then her remains will be returned and recycled, but if she did survive..." his tone fell by an octave, "Then she will be returned to Wolframa to face our judgment. Kar-Tor and all who believe like him will know that there is no one who can escape the authority of the High Council of Ninjarma." "As you say, my Lord," Kas-Par acknowledged, though his attention remained squarely focused on the two images still hovering above the Councilor's station... Rick whistled a tune as he waited outside the large tent that served as headquarters for the mobile base-camp to which he had been conducted. He pretended to ignore the soldiers guarding him and instead allowed his attention to focus on little details concerning the camp and all the hardware that they were displaying. Whatever they were doing out here, it was more than the usual sort of war-games. There was too much of a businesslike atmosphere here, and these special forces-types were much too alert and edgy for his liking. Rick had been raised around such men as a Military brat. His father had been stationed in some sensitive places, and he knew from experience how to spot the signs of impending trouble. He also knew that with a keen enough reporter's instinct it was possible to pick up little things by keeping his eyes and ears open, and he was reasonably certain from what he had so far observed that these soldiers were not the type of men and women that got deployed on a whim. Whatever they were doing here, it had to be incredibly important. "Mister Shepherd," he was addressed, causing him to turn and face a female orderly wearing the same camouflaged uniform lacking unit insignia that seemed typical for this group, but whose bearing suggested that she was at least officer rank, "The Major will see you now. This way, please." Oho, the polite treatment. Rick calculated that somewhere a decision had been made that elevated his stock and made his chances of survival perceptively better than he had imagined. Deciding to break with bad male traditions, he just politely returned the smile of the orderly without some smug, thoughtless commentary that might be misconstrued on her part, then comply with her directions. Inside the tent he found a burly, middle-aged man with the severe haircut of a Marine wearing no insignia nor rank but who sat behind a desk working on a laptop. He looked up when Rick followed the military protocol he had not used since his ROTC days and stood to attention before the desk, politely waiting to be recognized rather than address the Major out of turn like a typical civilian. "Mister Shepherd," the Major stood up without offering either a hand or salute, "I wish to apologize for the inconvenience that brought you here. I trust you were treated well by my people?" "Well enough, all considered, Sir," Rick replied, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me what this was all about?" "I'm afraid it's classified," the Major replied, "Off limits to the Press..." "So you'll neither confirm nor deny that a meteorite fell in this area, huh?" Rick ventured, studying the Major's reactions, "What was it really, a Top Secret satellite that you don't anybody else to know about? You can tell me, its strictly off the record." "Meteorite?" the Major lifted an eyebrow, then frowned, obviously doing some heavy shifting of mental gears before he added, "Don't tell me you're one of those left-wing Conspiracy theorists who looks for nuclear trash in every government waste basket?" "I've seen stranger things in my time, sir," Rick allowed himself the luxury of a smile, then added, "But off the record, I already know that it's not a meteorite you're after." The Major's expression tightened noticeably before he replied, "What are you getting at mister?" "I think you know," Rick said, "Tell me about an overturned truck with several wounded soldiers that's parked a few miles back from here, a truck with a body- shaped impression pressed into the radiator, and two foot prints dug into the asphalt several dozen meters from that." "Id say you've been chasing one too many Bigfoot sightings," the Major responded. "When did Bigfoot need an entire division after his hide?" Rick asked, following his reporter's instinct as he intuitively felt an opening and pressed on ahead, "I think you boys lost something and are chasing after it. That's what I believe, not that I have any other hard evidence, of course..." "And not that it's any of your business," the man came around the table and gave Rick a more thorough study, "Doesn't say anywhere in your background that you had a stint with the military." "I guess High School doesn't count?" Rick replied, "Blame it on my father if you have to. He used to be an Air Force pilot..." "I know," the Major said, "It's in your record." "Well then," Rick decided to press ahead on a long hunch, "Unless you plan to make me disappear, maybe you might like to explain to the public why someone from Special Forces is out here chasing down something that could totally wreck a truck with relatively light casualties, or is this a Black Ops outfit, in which case, as you say, it's none of my business?" The Major continued to give him a stare that was as unyielding as it was probing, but then he gave a slight snort, which became a low chuckle, and then he shook his head and said, "I knew the moment I heard that we had a reporter like you heading into camp that you'd be nothing but trouble. I don't what you imagine we are, Mister Shepherd, but this is the United States of America, and I have taken an oath to support and defend the Constitution and duly elected government. That doesn't mean you won't find yourself on a one-way trip to Leavenworth if I even suspect that you intend to interfere with my Mission..." "Okay," Rick said, "Then I take it that means I can get my wallet back, along with my ID and Press Pass?" "You have whatever belongs to you," the Major said as he picked up said belongings and handed them over to Rick, "Just say away from my men. I don't need to have you picking and probing around my camp looking for some damn-fool story for that Rag Tabloid you allegedly work for. "It's a living," Rick shrugged as he slipped his wallet back into his leather jacket, "It's not by choice, I used to be..." "With a Major Metropolitan Newspaper, assigned as a Washington Correspondent," the Major replied, "That's also in your record." "You must have some interesting links on your Internet," Rick said, realizing it was his turn to show surprise, "Or should I say the Defense Department version? You want to hear my version of why I got fired?" "Don't need to," the Major said, "You stepped on someone's big toe and they squashed you like a bug. Pulls some strings, got you kicked out of Washington on some trumped up scandal. Believe me, what happened to you is a pretty old story." Rick looked at the man curiously and said, "You seem to know more about it than I do. Any idea who got me canned?" "I hear it came all the way from the top," the Major said, "But that's strictly off the record, and under a different administration. By the way, I'm Major Andrew Brookhurst. Don't bother asking the name of my unit, it's classified, but we're not the bad guys here." "And if you told me you'd have to kill me, right?" Rick asked. "Something like that," Major Brookhurst said with that unnerving smile, "Or I could do something to you that would make what happened in Washington look like a Society Bridge Club. You may think you've got the potential of a great story here, but I'm warning you that even a rag like yours wouldn't publish what's going on here." "I'll keep an open mind about that," Rick replied. "Frankly, I'm surprised a paper like the Midnight Star even resorts to using reporters," Brookhurst continued, "I always figured they just had a bunch of guys sit in an office somewhere making stuff up, whenever they thought they could sell to the Shopping Cart crowds of local supermarkets." "Yeah, well, they don't pay a hell of a lot to send me out on these scouting missions," Rick conceded, "But a lot of what I do requires interviews to go with the Photo Ops. You don't always get what you need downloading files off the Net" "Not much use for your skills, is it?" Brookhurst asked as though probing for an opening of his own, "The kind of Investigative talent that can rattle the sort of cages you rattled ought to be able to do more for himself then write Flying Saucers stories. Maybe if you stayed away from sensitive issues and went for more conventional headline-grabbing topics..." "I take what I can find," Rick replied, "Are you telling me off the record that this case doesn't involve Little Green Men? You wouldn't happen to be chasing the pilot of some downed Roswell-type ship?" "Somebody obviously forgot to beam you up," Brookhurst snorted, then glanced to the side and said, "Yes, Lieutenant?" The orderly stepped in and saluted, "Sir, there's been a new development that requires you attention." "Want me to step outside?" Rick asked matter-of-factly. "Actually, sir," the Lieutenant said, her tone oddly lilted as if to suggest an element of amusement, "This involves Mister Shepherd. It seems our people were guarding his vehicle when they...had an encounter with certain parties..." Her tone trailed off and she looked inquiringly at the Major, who said, "Go on," while Rick lifted an eyebrow. "Details are sketchy, sir," the orderly continued, "But it seems the two suspects we have been trailing...overpowered our men and confiscated the vehicle." "They stole my car???" Rick blurted before he had time to think about it, then glanced at the Major, who was looking at him with a mixture of sympathy and amazement. "Oboy," Brookhurst murmured to himself, then said, "Send choppers to intercept, have an all-points to Highway Patrol to be on the lookout for a vehicle matching the license plate and description of the vehicle. Tell them to monitor but do not engage these suspects." "Yes sir," the orderly said, and disappeared out the tent. "They stole my car!" Rick repeated in amazement. "Seems that way," Brookhurst replied, then shook his head in weariness, "Washington is not going to like this..." They emerged from the woodland trail and came upon a partial clearing two miles from where they had left the truck and soldiers. Mar-Sa gave warning in adequate time for them to avoid being spotted as they found two soldiers dressed in camouflage colors, undoubtedly belonging to the same unit that Phoebe and Mar-Sa had encountered earlier. They were standing guard beside a red convertible that had been pulled off the side of the road into partial concealment. The men looked alert and dangerous, ready for trouble, though it was doubtful that they were adequately prepared for what was about to face them. In spite of the potential danger, Phoebe smiled to herself and said, "What a break! Just the thing we need to get out of this mess. All you've got to do is sneak up on those two guys and conk them..." "Conk them?" Mar-Sa frowned in some confusion. "Y'know," Phoebe shrugged, "Knock them out, take their weapons away, leave them behind while we use that car to drive to safety?" "I could overpower them," Mar-Sa anxiously considered, "But I might seriously injure them if I use too much force. It is not that easy to induce a precise concussion...and I am still not certain about the limits of my new strength." "Hmm, that is a problem," Phoebe said, "We don't anyone else hurt, but we've got to get out of here, and that's the best way I can come up with. Think maybe you could create a distraction?" "I could try," Mar-Sa said as she began to take a step from behind the bushes. A twig snapped under her foot and Phoebe cursed softly, "Oh great! That'll sure distract them! Forget it, if they see you they'll probably fire off a shot, which will bring more soldiers running. We're going to have to do this the hard way, without any rough stuff. Wait here, I've got an idea that just might work." Phoebe moved out from the bushes and immediately threw her arms up and shouted, "Don't shoot! I'm not armed! I need help!" The two soldiers had already turned with weapons leveled her way, but they hesitated at the sight of Phoebe, who was anything but an intimidating sight. Without relaxing their guard, they allowed her to approach as Phoebe kept her hands in view at all time, trying to be as convincing as possible as she hurried up to them, pretending in her mind that both the Alien and Predator were somewhere right behind her. "You've gotta help me!" she cried, feigning panic, "There's a Monster after me! A big, hairy man-eating whatever that's chasing me! It's got salivating jaws and great big tentacles and..." "What the Sam Hill you talkin' 'bout, Ma'am?" one of the two soldiers asked her. "A Monster!" Phoebe said, "I'm not kidding! It chased me from over there!" she pointed back and away from where she had left Mar-Sa, waving her arms for emphasis, "I'm not kidding about this, guys! It's after me, I'm serious!" One soldier turned to the other and said, "Maybe we ought to report it anyway. You never know, something may have gotten outside the containment zone." "There's no time!" Phoebe said frantically, "It's coming this way, I tell you! I'm a civilian, I pay my taxes, and that means you've gotta protect me..." "Calm down, Ma'am," the soldier with the heavy southern accent said reassuringly, as he partner spoke into his throat-mike, "We'll check out your story, just give us a moment..." Phoebe was about to protest that there was hardly any time for that when a definite noise sounded from the bushes behind them, then a large branch came sailing through the air to land well short of their position, but this was enough to make both men tense abruptly, then the one speaking into his throat- mike said, "Charlie, Bravo, possible contact with subject. Will do a swift recon to confirm ID." He nodded to his companion and the both of them moved away from the car, training their weapons at the bushes as if expecting them to erupt at any moment. One man edged closer than the other, while Phoebe cast a wild glance at the branch laying just a few meters from where she stood. Taking a deep breath she edged forwards to pick it up in both hands. One man edged forward while the second man covered him, moving cautiously as he slowly circled the bushes. Without warning something did leap forward, but it was impossible to see what, and before he had time to so much as squeeze off a shot he was hauled off of his feet and thrown mightily for a distance of thirty or so meters. The second man was about to shoot at whatever it was that attacked his companion, but Phoebe swung her branch hard at the back of his helmet and knocked him sprawling. Before he could begin to recover, Mar-Sa appeared and quickly subdued him with as light a tap as she dared against his cerebellum. "Wow!" Phoebe gasped, beginning to wonder if the marvels of this day would ever cease, "How did you do that? I barely saw you attack that guy!" "I don't know," Mar-Sa replied, "I was...trying not to be seen, then he came close enough that I thought I could overpower him without doing too much damage..." "It was like you were invisible or something," Phoebe said, "Were you just moving too fast to be seen, or is that another power you've just discovered you have?" "A little of both, I think," Mar-Sa frowned, "Invisibility...that is difficult to conceive of. I know how it could be done with the right technology, of course..." "But you didn't think you could do it without it?" Phoebe replied, "Right, and a woman can't fly either, or lift a truck, or heal critical injuries with her touch..." "I understand what you are saying," Mar-Sa waved the point down, glancing back at the man who lay still, then at his semi-conscious colleague, "Was that too rough do you think?" "No," Phoebe said, "I think that was just about right. C'mon, let's get in the car. I think I can still remember how to hot-wire a rod." "Hot wire?" Mar-Sa asked as she followed Phoebe to the vehicle, giving it a dubious look over as some part of her mind began explaining the essential functions. "Street slang for bypassing the security devices and ignition," Phoebe said as she tested the front door and found it open, "I used to hang with a tough crowd during my senior year. Haven't had to do it in years, hope I'm not too rusty." She smiled as she slid in horizontally, ducking her head under the steering wheel column to examine beneath the dash board, while Mar-Sa stared at the door on her side of the car, tentatively reaching out to test the handle, finding it resisted her efforts. But that was no real problem for her now, was it? She had discovered that her new abilities extended to a heightening of all senses, allowing her to probe into objects and make contact with their interior makeup. Her mind had an image already imprinted of the mechanism for this door, and it took only a moment more to feel the gears and latches inside the side-panel, and a few more moments before she felt the mechanism give under the ever-so-gentle pressure she applied. A small knob popped upward, and the handle moved freely, allowing the door to swing open without the need to apply brute force to its removal. The car gave somewhat under her weight as she carefully sat down on the cushioned chair that was on her side. She turned to study her strange pale companion, impressed with the other woman's strange combination of self- confidence and self-reliance. In spite of discovering all of the new things she could do, Mar-Sa still had yet to feel as assertive as this girl, who in so many ways had proven to be amazingly resourceful. "Damn," Phoebe complained after several frustrating attempts, "Don't understand this make and model. I'd need some tools to pop the ignition out. Maybe if I try under the hood..." Mar-Sa understood better now what Phoebe was attempting to accomplish, and she looked at the ignition thinking what a simple matter it would be, using the same skill she had just demonstrated with the door. She could almost see the interior wiring in her mind, and with but a thought she made a connection and caused a spark to jump through the system. "Holy...!" Phoebe started to cry out when she bumped her head on the steering wheel and complained about it profanely. She sat up more carefully, rubbing her head, and glanced at Mar-Sa, almost accusing as she said, "Did you do that?" "Yes," Mar-Sa replied, "I think I am beginning to understand the uses of my powers..." "We've gotta do some field tests when all this craziness is over," Phoebe said, wasting no time shifting the car into gear while taking the brake off, "Fasten your seat-belts and let me take things from here." "Seat belts?" Mar-Sa repeated, glancing to the side as she saw Phoebe pull some cloth strips over her lap and across her upper body. She looked to her right side and located where the seat belts on her side were located, but before she could test them the car started to move forward. It was a bumpy ride, and she had to reach out to grasp the frame and forward panel in order to steady herself as Phoebe got them back onto the main road, then headed away from the source of their problems as fast as their borrowed machine could travel and still remain under the legal speed limit. By that time Mar-Sa had grasped the concept of the seat belts and had secured herself in place, finding it much easier to relax this way with Phoebe driving. Something was nagging at her consciousness, though, and at length she said, "On your world...what we have just done is called...stealing?" "Carjacking," Phoebe corrected, "But we're not keeping it, just borrowing the sucker to get as far away from here as we can. Keep an eye out for those choppers, though, they might spot us and set up some kind of road block." "Choppers...you mean those flying devices...Heli-copters?" "Right," Phoebe smiled approvingly, "You're starting to get with it. That Kar- Tor guy must have given you some basic info on our culture but didn't give you time enough to digest it, right?" "Yes, that is it exactly," Mar-Sa agreed, "I am...a fish without water?" "You're that all right," Phoebe had to chuckle slightly at the understatement, "Listen, we're gonna have to do something about your appearance. Nothing wrong with the way you look, mind you...you're fantastic! It's just..." "I do not look precisely like a native of your world," Mar-Sa concluded sadly, "I understand. People here will treat me...different." "Lucky for you I live in San Francisco," Phoebe said, "Even you could fit in there. Everybody looks like an alien to somebody in ol' Frisco, you might even start a new fashion statement: the Gold Paint look." Mar-Sa did not understand why, but for some very strange reason she found herself smiling... (First Copyrights Only) (First Eleven Chapters) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- If you wish to check out my other works, Please check out my Fanfiction webpage at: http://s11.sexshare.com/~jbader/jimbader.html All related chapters of this series can be found there along with my other works.