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 (First Copyrights Only) Book One. THE GIRL OF TUNGSTEN STEAL Chapter Six. Getaway "Well, Mister Shepherd, what do you make of this?" Rick glanced down at the plaster cast set upon the table and said, "It's a shoe?" "Very funny," Major Brookhurst snorted, "Try a shoe size thirteen, with the heal impression sunk about three inches into the soil. We estimate from that and the width of the stride that the subject who made it stands about one-point nine meters tall and has a mass in excess of one hundred-sixty kilos..." "My Metric's a bit shaky," Rick said, "How about putting that in layman's term?" "Try six-foot-four," Brookhurst suggested, "With weight in excess of three hundred and fifty pounds easy." "Three fifty?" Rick reacted, "Why so heavy?" "We don't know, Mister," Brookhurst admitted, "It violates everything we know about biology, which is why we're strongly tempted to believe that this subject is not human." "Not human?" Rick frowned, "You mean it really is an alien?" "Either that or some kind of damned machine" Brookhurst replied, "All I can say for sure is that is isn't one of ours. We don't know how to make something that matches the descriptions we've been getting from our people. At a guess, though, I'd say this lady we're chasing came from a lot farther away than either Hong Kong or Moscow. That's strictly off the record, of course." "Of course," Rick said, "So why are you telling me this?" "Because I need your full cooperation in this, Shepherd," Brookhurst admitted, "And without proof there's no way you'll ever get anyone to believe it. Your credibility's already in the toilet, so from where I strand you've got nothing to gain from trying to sell this story, except to that rag you work for." "And if I tried to get a legitimate news crew to take me seriously, they'd throw me in the booby hatch," Rick said bitterly, "I think I understand you." "Before the suits from Washington start showing up here, I need to settle a few questions," Brookhurst resumed, "That's why I need to ask if you've had any prior contact with the subject?" "Nope," Rick shook his head, "Sure haven't, but I'd be dying to do an interview if you manage to catch the lady." "We'll find her," Brookhurst replied, "We're very good at this sort of thing, and we've got people everywhere manning the roads leading down from these mountains. The pair of them can't have gotten far in that run down piece of..." "Hey!" Rick protested, "That car's a classic! Watch what you say about it." "Sorry," Brookhurst apologized, "We'll try and get it back to you in reasonably good condition. So, you had no idea that the lady and her friend were in this area?" "That's right," Rick replied, "I don't know if you believe it or not, but my being here is strictly a coincidence." "I've never much cared for the word coincidence, but I'll let it go for now," Brookhurst replied, "So it's pure coincidence that they happened to seize your car for a getaway vehicle." "That's what I'm trying to tell you," Rick replied, aware of how lame that sounded even in his own ears. Brookhurst smiled an almost kindly smile and said, "You can see my position. I've got to be able to account for a lot of discrepancies, and you're only one of them. That overturned vehicle is another. You saw the wreck, what was your impression?" "That somebody stopped to give some first aid to the wounded," Rick replied, "But that hardly sounds like something an alien would do, or an android." "Android," Brookhurst smiled, "That's a good one. I was going to say robot. What else did you notice?" "Besides the oddly shaped impression in the radiator and the pot-hole in the road?" Rick asked, "I'd say they hit something pretty solid, something that got up and walked over to the side of the road, picked up the truck and pulled the soldiers to safety. I'd also say that was impossible, but I've haven't got a better explanation." "According to my men, that is exactly what happened," Brookhurst remarked, "But that's also off the record." Rick's mouth fell open, then he said, "Did they also describe her?" "Six-foot-four with golden skin and hair," Brookhurst replied, "A real looker, and pretty well put together. Strong, too, and apparently bullet-proof." "Did she have an 'S' on her chest?" Rick wondered aloud. "Nope," Brookhurst smiled, "And I asked them just that. The other one looked normal enough, maybe five and a half feet, one-thirty even, female Caucasian in her early twenties with blonde hair and blue eyes..." "That about describes a third of the population of California," Rick noted. "We think she's a bystander who somehow got involved with the other lady," Brookhurst continued, "At first we thought that she might be a hostage, but she seemed willing enough to collaborate, even called herself a tour guide." "Collaboration?" Rick asked, "That sounds like we were at war or something." "How do you know we aren't?" Brookhurst replied with a look that was entirely sober, "For all we know she could be an advanced scout or something. Whoever sent her could have an entire legion like her ready to send on her say-so. That's not paranoia talking, son, that's common sense. We could have a situation that makes Independence Day seem like a Holiday picnic." "I can see why you'd be so hot to find her," Rick said, "So where do I fit into all of this?" "At the moment you're just one piece of the puzzle," Brookhurst admitted, "And it's not just me who wants some answers. My superiors expect results for their tax dollars, and I aim to give them as much as I can on short notice. So, tell me, Shepherd, what would you think if I gave them a story like the one I just told you?" "That an alien or Android crash-landed in the middle of a forest and managed to elude capture?" Rick said, "That part's a stretch, but the rest of it doesn't even make sense the way you tell it. If this were a story I was trying to pass off to my editor I'd give them the basic details but phrase it like I wasn't too sure what they all mean. I'd skip the details until they asked me for suggestions." Brookhurst smiled, "I knew there was a reason for keeping you around. Lieutenant, make a note of it. Have Shepherd write a summary before we turn him loose, it's a fair enough trade off considering the alternatives." "Right," Rick swallowed, trying not to think about what those "alternatives" might mean. "Excuse me, sir," the Lieutenant looked up, tapping one earphone and pausing before saying, "I'm getting reports now that a vehicle matching the description of Mister Shepherd's car was spotted heading north-west on the main central High way. It sounds as though they could be on their way to Sacramento." "Have our boys close in, but don't get too close or let them be spotted," Brookhurst replied, "We still don't know for certain what we're dealing with here, and the last thing we can afford to do is provoke something where we might have witnesses." "Understood, sir," the Lieutenant replied, and began to speak into her throat- mike. "You really think you can catch this lady without anyone getting hurt?" Rick asked. "That's my job, son," Brookhurst replied, "As difficult as it may sound, I'm only following orders." "Good luck," Rick replied, thinking privately that all his instincts would have caused him to bet his money on the lady... "How about some music to kill the time?" Phoebe asked her companion. "Music?" Mar-Sa asked without clearly comprehending. "Yeah, music," Phoebe frowned, "Don't they have music on your world?" Mar-Sa thought a moment. Music was a word that triggered new memories, of sounds and sensations unlike any others that she could relate to. A connection was made and she blinked her eyes, then said, "Oh...music. I think I know what you mean. Um...yes and no, I am afraid. What we have are sounds that are generated at a certain frequency to soothe the nerves and facilitate meditation..." "Sounds like New Age," Phoebe snorted, "I'm more an old-fashioned rock-and-roll girl myself. Here, I'll turn on the radio and you tell me what you think." Phoebe turned a knob, then pressed a button on a part of the console near to the center, and suddenly there was a clash of sound and vibration that almost made Mar-Sa jump in her seat, straining her belt restraints almost to the breaking as she covered her ears to protect them. "Sorry!" Phoebe raised her voice, then adjusted the volume and changed channels to a different station. Now the sounds were somewhat less jarring but still had a very odd beat and rhythm that seemed far from gentle to Mar-Sa's hearing. "What is this?" she asked. "Heavy Metal," Phoebe replied, "Could have been worse, might have been hip-hop or rap. Here, I'll try something else. Let's see what kind of music the guy who owns this car likes to listen to." She opened a panel centered over the column between their seats and pulled out an almost flat box-like container that had a colorful picture and words set upon it. Phoebe glanced at this, then said, "Moody Blues? What kind of guy is this? That's even older than me! Oh well, I guess it'll be easier for you if I start with some 'Knights In White Satin.'" She removed a plastic disk from the container and slipped that in through a slot, then pushed another button and further adjusted the volume until the music began to play, and-sure enough-it proved much easier listening. Mar-Sa began to relax ever so slightly. "Boy," Phoebe said in quiet wonder, "Your people really haven't got a lot in the way of entertainment, do you? I'd have thought you'd have your own kind of music back home..." "I am afraid not," Mar-Sa said, then frowned, "It is...odd, though...I think I know this song. Yes, I know it and many others like this! It's in my memories..." "The memories of the guy your boss contacted?" Phoebe asked. "Yes," Mar-Sa nodded, " Mark Daniels is his name, and he...he is a musician by trade! He plays music just like this..." "Name's not familiar to me," Phoebe replied, "He can't be very successful." "I do not...think so either," Mar-Sa frowned, "I believe that he travels a lot...and he owns few possessions. He is from a good family but prefers to earn his way...I do not understand. I think he...left his family for some reason..." "A traveling musician," Phoebe sniffed, "A regular Woody Guthrie." "Who?" Mar-Sa asked, then blinked and answered her own question, "Oh...yes, that name is very familiar to him. I believe he considers that man to be a role model." "Figures," Phoebe sighed, "Sounds like you two should meet and talk about this." "Perhaps," Mar-Sa said quietly, "Only..." "Only?" "What would I say to him?" Mar-Sa replied, "Kar-Tor did not explain to me under what conditions he was probed. He might not have a very favorable impression..." "Probably be like a lot of other folk who claim to be abducted by saucers," Phoebe mused aloud, "Well, it's a big country, so it's not very likely we're run into him anytime soon. Right now, though, we've got to figure some way of ditching this car and finding other transportation pronto." "Why?" Mar-Sa asked, "Is there something wrong with this vehicle?" "Not a thing," Phoebe said, "But it won't take long for the military to track us down by air, and they're bound to have road blocks all over the place. I can take the back roads, skip the major highways, stay close to the suburbs, but sooner or later they'll find us and bring a noose down around both of our necks." "I am so sorry," Mar-Sa said sincerely, "I never meant to get you into any trouble." "Stop apologizing," Phoebe smiled, "I'm having a blast! Besides, you need my help, and there's no way I'm abandoning you at this point. Just let me think of something we can use to get out of this fix. I wonder if maybe we could try and hitchhike..." "Hitch hike?" Mar-Sa repeated. "Naw, not a good idea," Phoebe sighed, "People would see you and tell the army boys which way we're headed. Gotta find a way of smuggling you into San Francisco, that's one place where we could lose them." "You are certain I would fit in?" Mar-Sa asked dubiously. "Honey, there's no place where you wouldn't stand out," Phoebe smiled, "But in 'Frisco they're less likely to notice. Lot of strange people live in and around that city. I'm not a native to the place, but I've been there for six years and I've gotten used to the craziness." "I wonder," Mar-Sa said with a thoughtful expression. "Wonder what?" Phoebe asked, eyeing her companion's profile in a different way than she would have done if she thought she was looking. "What you said about fitting in," Mar-Sa replied, "What happened back there with the soldiers...when I...made them not notice me. It was...as if I reached into the minds and willed them not to notice. I was just thinking about that..." "Another power?" Phoebe asked. "More like a variation on Telepathy," Mar-Sa said, "Here, allow me to experiment a little." She closed her eyes and seemed to relax marginally. For a long moment nothing appeared to happen, then something very strange did. As Phoebe risked taking her eyes off the road she gasped as she saw the outline of her new friend blur a little, and then suddenly alter to take on the appearance of a stranger. No, not really so much a stranger as a different kind of Mar-Sa, one with lighter colored skin that did not seem so metallic and reflective, and her hair was much less curling and more of an ordinary shade of yellow. As Phoebe continued to steal glances to the side she saw Mar-Sa's violet colored eyes turn blue, then blue-grey. The effect lasted only a few moments before Mar-Sa reverted to normal, but in that time it had seemed briefly as though she had changed completely. "Jesus!" Phoebe whispered, "What was that?" "A kind of mental illusion that I projected," Mar-Sa replied, "I was using your perceptions to help guide me, but my intent was to disguise my appearance so that I could temporarily pass for a native of your world." "That's a hell of an ability," Phoebe took a deep breath and turned her full attention back to the road, "Sure beats a hat and coat by a longshot." "I am not certain for how long I could sustain this," Mar-Sa resumed, "But I think I could convince a passing stranger that I am nothing special to look at. That should be enough to achieve your plan, am I right? You do intend to ask a stranger to assist us in reaching your city?" "How did you figure that one out?" Phoebe asked, "You read my mind again?" "Actually it was Mark Daniel's mind I read," Mar-Sa replied, "He does that sort of thing as a habit." "Figures," Phoebe smiled, "All right, we'll ditch this rig before we get to the first town, then we'll try and find a friendly trucker who wouldn't mind some companionship. Those guys are a lot nicer than reputation would have you believe, and some of them have families on their own. Of course, if we run into a real creep, I'm sure we can handle him without much trouble." "Thank you for helping me," Mar-Sa smiled, "I do not know what I would have done without your guidance." "Forget it," Phoebe said with an odd kind of smile, "So you owe me a favor. I'll let you know when I want to collect on it." Mar-Sa did not precisely understand what that meant, but she did feel obligated to the small Earth woman, and she understood well enough the meaning of the word favor. There was something very strange about the way the girl kept looking at her, but it did not feel like something bad to her. She would have known if there were any hostile intentions in this Phoebe Winters, but all that she had demonstrated so far was a sincere desire to help Mar-Sa avoid capture. This made her feel very odd, and oddly protective, it also made her feel as if there were more to the nature of their tentative friendship than she understood at the present. She decided to wait until such time as Phoebe would explain her desires in more detail, until then Mar-Sa was content to let Phoebe continue to guide her. There was nothing else to be done, and no one else who could be trusted in this strange land with the bright blue sky and so many lush green forests... "Enjoying the view, Shepherd?" Brookhurst called out over the whine of the helicopter rotors. "Just swell," Rick replied, "So long as you don't ask me to leave without a parachute, there's no problem." "Wouldn't think of it," Brookhurst replied with a half-smile, "It's spoil my perfect no-accident record. We should be near to the landing zone in another few minutes, so just hold on tight and enjoy the air show. Oh, and if you get sick in this bird, you're cleaning it up, understand me?" "Clear as crystal," Rick replied, holding down his gorge as best he was able under the circumstances. He tried to keep in mind that Brookhurst had been dealing fair with him all afternoon, a thing for which he was singularly puzzled, but grateful nonetheless. He was not sure that he really could trust the wily officer, but he knew he had no other choice and so kept his peace and quietly reviewed everything that he knew so far about this incredibly unlikely situation. He had always objectively believed in the possibility of Extra-terrestrial life...or, more precisely, no one had ever made an argument against the possibility that he found very convincing. To be confronted with the reality of it, however, was another thing entirely. It warred against his natural skepticism to be asked to believe that little green men walked among them, and 'little green men' hardly matched the description of the lady these Covert Ops guys were after. A giant with gold skin who could withstand the impact of a truck, even lift the thing off its side and carry it back from the edge of a precipice? Who stopped to administer aid to the very men injured in the crash, and-if the further reports were accurate-manifested a strange healing ability that may have miraculously saved at one officer's life. What to make out of these disjointed bits of information? The picture was maddeningly incomplete, and yet Rick was too far too good of a News Shark not to see matters through to their conclusion. Reports kept coming in about a missing car matching the description of his own vehicle, but each time these Army men believed that they had a lead it turned out to be a case of mistaken identity, for none matched the license plate number of his Camero. It was disturbing to learn that there were so many other cars of that make and model out there, or that so many of them would be traveling the roads at much the same time, but finally they narrowed it down to a single car found parked along the side of one of the main highway, well beyond the first line of roadblocks, which implied that they had to have gotten there by using one of the off-roads. There was no sign of their presence anywhere in the area, but with the number of people and agencies involved it was not likely that they could escape notice for very much longer. "Y'know, in a way, you can almost admire their animal cunning," Brookhurst mused to himself. "Who?' Rick asked, though he already suspected the answer. "That civilian who's helping our golden lady out," Brookhurst replied, "Without really knowing more than the bare details at her end she's managed to give us the slip time and again. If she really knew what she was getting herself involved in, she'd stay clear away from the whole mess." "Maybe she thinks she's doing the lady a favor," Rick noted. "Possibly," Brookhurst replied, "Either way, she's put herself at considerable risk, and this beginners luck they've been enjoying so far is bound to end sooner or later. I don't suppose I need to remind you that the people I work for will be intent on grilling her for everything she knows, just like they'll want to examine this golden lady to see if she's legit..." "But you do believe that the civilian isn't a serious threat in all this?" Rick hazarded, once again trying to fathom the hidden meaning in the Major's words, as if the man were trying to tell him something without being direct about it. "Doesn't seem much like a pro to me," Brookhurst replied, "She's made mistakes no pro would ever get away with. I'm inclined to believe that she's just a bystander who didn't have sense enough to walk away." "But you'll still take her into custody if you catch them," Rick decided. "It's my job," Brookhurst shrugged, "I don't make the policies, I just carry out orders." "Sir!" the pilot called out, "We're at the coordinates and I can see the vehicle now. Two plainclothed civilians are waving us down..." "I know who they are," Brookhurst replied, "Take us down for a landing." Once they had landed in a clearing, Major Brookhurst wasted no time in debarking, and while Rick would have preferred to wait until the rotors had slowed down a little he was obligated to follow, ducking his head as he caught sight of his Camero. There were several men in three piece suits with sun glasses examining the vehicle, two of whom looked up to nod to the Major before one of them began pointing and saying something that did not carry to Rick's position. Rick paused a few meters away from his car, staring at it as if demanding to know if the paint had been so much as scratched, but he knew better than to try and push his luck with these men. There was something a little too professional in their manner for his liking, and he did not need to see the bulges under their jackets to know that these were not the kind of people that you would willingly want to mess with. Brookhurst conferred with the one man in the gray suit for several moments, then motioned to Rick and said, "Looks like they got off clean this time, Shepherd. No apparent damage to the vehicle, no sign of a forced entry, and no ignition keys either. No sign that it was hot-wired...you wouldn't happen to have a duplicate set of car keys, would you?" It took a moment for Rick to fully register what the man was implying, and then he reacted, "Hey, wait a minute! You don't still think I have any involvement with these people, do you? I'm the victim here, remember?" "Then how did they do it?" Brookhurst asked, smiling in a way that made Rick sweat, but he turned away rather than further press the issue, "At any rate, they're on foot now, so it's only a matter of time before we find them. Left a couple of good-sized impressions matching the ones in the forest. Our golden lady isn't the type you could miss in a crowd, especially in these parts. Only one thing troubles me, though..." "What's that?" Rick asked. Brookhurst nodded in one direction and said, "The tracks only extend up to the side of the road, then they vanish completely. Same with the other pair. That suggests they got a ride from this point on. Mighty interesting coincidence, that." Rick inwardly groaned, then said, "I wouldn't know anything about it. I'm telling you, I don't know these people, and I certainly don't like your implying that I'm withholding information." "I'm not implying anything, Shepherd," Brookhurst said, "But if you do know anything that pertains to this matter, it'd be in your interest if you told me now rather than have it come up later. Our boys will go over your car with a fine-toothed comb, looking for any clues they may have left behind. We're bound to find something, a finger-print, something dropped by accident..." "But it won't have anything to do with me," Rick stated flatly. "Maybe so," Brookhurst said, "But a good ol' boy like me doesn't get where I am without checking out every possible angle. If it turns out there's no connection with you, then I'll apologize personally and see to it your vehicle is returned to you in close to its original condition." "Close to...?" Rick stammered. "In the meantime," Brookhurst turned away and addressed the other men, "Have the local boys put out an APB. Tell them it's a federal emergency, escaped felons wanted by the FBI, anything that they'll believe. Give as close to a general description as you can without being too specific, got that?" "Yes sir," the man in the grey suit crisply nodded. "Shouldn't be too hard to spot those two...unless they've gone to ground in the last few minutes," Brookhurst mused, half to himself, "Could be they got lucky again and found a good Samaritan to give them a lift, a passing motorist out for some novelty...or maybe a truck driver." "Or maybe they flew," Rick said as if the stray thought had suddenly lodged in his brain and caused him to speak without thinking. "What's that?" Brookhurst looked at him sharply. "Ah," Rick instantly regretted his lack of discretion, "I was just thinking...your people said this lady could glide from a cliff to the ground...maybe she can do something like that, levitate or fly in the air. Maybe she's got a jetpack hidden on her, or something. I mean, wouldn't it be a great way to cover more distance in a hurry? Hell, if she can do all the other stuff, why not the rest of the package?" "Shepherd..." Brookhurst looked as though he were about to suggest Rick go lay down out of the sun for a while, but instead he turned and said, "Widen the search to include the whole county, and keep a watch out for any low-flying objects that don't look like birds close up. Could be we've underestimated our golden lady friend again." He turned an almost approving look towards Rick and said, "Not bad, Shepherd. I knew you were good for something. Keep thinking creatively like that and I may even start to like you." That makes one of us, Rick thought to himself, wondering why he should be concerned for the welfare of someone who had 'jacked his car only two hours ago. This whole day was turning into something out of the Twilight Zone, and he was beginning to miss the old days in Bosnia and Kuwait, when all you had to worry about was people shooting at you with live ammunition... The suggestion that they attempt limited flight had not been met with any great enthusiasm, but Mar-Sa knew that she had to get more practice in this aspect of her power if they were to put enough distance between both them and the soldiers. Once they parked their stolen car, they got out and waited a few minutes before Mar-Sa felt sufficiently relaxed to attempt to use her levitation. She tried it solo at first, rising up a few meters with her hands spread wide as she mentally pictured projecting her force against the ground the way she did at the cliffs. After a moment, however, she discovered that all she needed to do was imagine the force surrounding her like a golden envelope of light, and suddenly gravity lost its iron grip on her frame. She felt lighter than ever, able to remain above the ground almost indefinitely, and that was when she knew that she was ready to go to the next phase. Phoebe had been encouraging her the whole while, continuing to look upon Mar-Sa as though the gold-skinned Wolframan were something miraculously unheard of. It embarrassed Mar-Sa in a way, but she was flattered just the same, and when she gathered the smaller Earth woman in her arms she was once more amazed at how light and frail she seemed, a delicate package that needed to be handled with the greatest of caution. Phoebe put her arms around Mar-Sa's neck and smiled encouragingly again, then Mar-Sa willed the envelope to surround them and pushed away from the ground, rising up to the level of the tree tops before gliding horizontally for the next several minutes. "This is awesome," Phoebe said in amazement, glancing down at the ground, then hastily looking away, "No, skip that, this is totally far out! It must be so cool being able to fly..." "I think so too," Mar-Sa agreed, allowing herself to feel amazement at what she was doing, even while she was using all of the rest of her concentration to avoid colliding with passing branches. "You're doing fine," Phoebe said evenly, sensing the tension in the other woman's voice, "Just let me know when you start to feel tired, then we'll find a nice soft place to set down...um, you do think you can improve a bit on your landings?" "I will try," Mar-Sa replied, wondering once again why she felt humor bubbling up inside her. Phoebe had that effect on her a lot, she noticed. Before this day she would have sworn that she did not know how to laugh, yet here she was flying with an alien girl in her arms hundreds of light years from home on a world unlike anything that she had ever dreamed of. What was there about all this that made her feel so light hearted, so positively giddy? After a while the trees began to thin and they came upon a road winding through the rolling hills and widening plains. Phoebe shifted her weight in Mar-Sa's arms and said, "There's a good spot to find some transportation. We should be far enough away from the guys chasing us. Set us down over there." Mar-Sa sensed as much as saw the place Phoebe that was thinking about and glided that way with as much care for their velocity as could be manage. She had no concern at this point for her own safety as much as that of her charge. She was beginning to come to terms with the fact that on this world she was far more resilient than the ground, but not so Phoebe. She managed her landing this time with only a little jarring, sinking her feet several inches into the soft, grassy soil. Phoebe did not complain, though her teeth had obviously been rattled, but in typical fashion she dismissed her discomfort with a giddy, "Well...still needs some practice, but at least we didn't eat it." Mar-Sa smiled and said, "I'll work on it. How much farther is it to this San Francisco?" "I'll let you know as soon as we get there," Phoebe turned to regard the Highway with a cocky little smile, then said, "Think you're ready to try that disguise power of yours? I think I see a rig that should suit us." "More than ready," Mar-Sa replied, not adding that she was beginning to feel a sense of confidence that she had never known before. Her heightened awareness of her surroundings made her feel more alive than she had ever felt living inside the domed confines of Ninjarma, and her even greater awareness of the woman she still carried in her arms gave her a warm sense of familiarity that she had never been allowed to experience. She felt powerful and alive, almost ready for anything this world might throw against her. "Ah, you can put me down now, Marsha," Phoebe urged gently. "Oh, yes," Mar-Sa said, taking great care in setting her new friend down, remembering once again how easy it would be to cause unintended injury with her strength. "C'mon," Phoebe said with her typical cocky smile that was becoming more familiar to Mar-Sa the more time that they spent together, "Let's go find us a Cowboy who won't mind some female companionship on the road to San Francisco." "Yes...let's," Mar-Sa replied before another thought occurred to her and she asked, "What is a Cowboy...?" (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.