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/Part One The Girl of Tungsten Steel Chapter Seven. Cultural Exchanges "Fellow Councilors," Dar-Kem announced before the assembly of his peers, "It is with great reluctance that I bring dire news before this august assembly. A matter of great urgency has caused this emergency session, and what I have come to reveal will impress on you the need for us to take swift and effective action." The Assembled Elders of the High Council of Ninjarma looked towards him with curiosity as Dar-Kem waited for the acknowledgment of First Speaker Prime Gin- Grach. The Prime Speaker nodded his assent, and Dar-Kem drew upon his resolve to make his delivery as sharp and concise as could be managed, else he well knew that some would waver in their resolve or simply fail to understand the gravity of their situation. "The Renegade Kar-Tor has once again challenged the authority of his venerable body by defying our edict forbidding research into areas deemed unsuitable for reasons of state security. To be more specific, he has reopened the work of the rebel Mar-Tan, who was executed by order of this Assembly for his forbidden trespass and heresies against the established order." Their attention was more focused now, and Dar-Kem saw that several eyes narrowed at the mention of Mar-Tan. Even now it struck a raw nerve among the older members of the Inner Council, who recalled vividly the debate in past decades that had almost divided them against one another. "Mar-Tan, as you may well recall, my fellow Councilors," Dark-Kem resumed, "Dared probe into the very nature of historical records and brought the very legitimacy of the Council itself into disrepute with his wild, improbable theories on the nature of our origins. We had thought ourselves rid of that dark chapter of our recent past, only now we have discovered to our dismay the negligence that has allowed Mar-Tan's legacy to live on to threaten us yet again. Mar-Tan himself may be long dead, but not his issue and bloodline, which as many here may know extends back into our history to the very foundations of Ninjarman society as we know it. "And how can this be, you might well ask? Did our predecessors not pursue aggressively the eradication of that troublesome atavism that has so many times yielded troublemakers and traitors who dare to challenge the establishment and violated the very limits of conventional society and the standards that we maintain for all our people? Did we not undertake a thorough enough program to regress all tendencies towards this rebellious trend that began with the line of She-La of Ninjarma? She-La the Conqueror, who brought low the Keepers of the Flame, the earliest forebears of our present society, who sought to guide the people away from their animal natures and passions, to create a civilized order that would inhibit the natural tendency of man to devolve into a primitive state of anarchy and debauchery. How many generations did it take our predecessors before they were able to regain the control over society that they once commanded, and how far had things deteriorated by the time we could make the reforms that were needed?" Too much at once, Dar-Kem decided, judging by the reactions of the slower-witted faces he perused while pausing for breath. Metaphysics and history were definitely not their strong point, and beyond a tacit acknowledgment of the central creed they had all sworn by there was not a lot of firm ideological commitment to the cause behind past council decisions. Time to regain ground by stressing a more personal line that they could understand, especially as it impacted on their present. "Fellow Councilors," he said in his gravest tones, "The line of She-La the Upstart is not dead. One member of that family still lives: Mar-Sa of Ninjarma, the sole living heir to the legacy of Mar-Tan!" There was an immediate reaction this time, of voices stirring in protest and outrage, only to be drowned out by the Prime Councilor's gavel. When silence reigned again, Dar-Kem was more than ready to continue. "She was sheltered for many years by former High Councilor Kar-Tor, whom many of you well know for his impudent and notorious reputation. Kar-Tor arranged for her protection, changed the registry code for her gestation and authorized her education and orientation into the science division, where she recently achieved high marks as a Novice Adept in Engineering. Kar-Tor commanded her services as a research assistant on the pretext of furthering her Technical Rating to Journeyman Adept status. Apprentice Mar-Sa accompanied Kar-Tor to a remote installation established on his authority in the underground catacombs where her father made his most outlandish discoveries. It was there that Kar-Tor created the gravest heretical discovery of his career, an ancient device of previously unknown description, which he believed to be some manner of Mass Teleporter, capable of sending solid objects over inconceivable distances at near- instantaneous velocity, the very means theorized by Mar-Tan in his theories about the Ancients." More uproar, and this time voluble protest from some corners. Councilor Ar-May of Outlandia was first to speak, invoking the ancient cry of those who refused to believe any new discoveries, "Such a thing would violate the very nature of established theory!" "Yes, quite right," Dar-Kem replied, silencing this protest by his dry tone of dismissal, "It would indeed violate established theory and prove beyond doubt that Mar-Tan's theories had validity...but then again, that was never in question. The council knew when it pronounced sentence against Mar-Tan that he had spoken a truth we dared not publicly acknowledge. Why else do you suppose that there was controversy in our decision? But it was necessary just the same and helped to preserve our legitimacy, which his theory would have severely compromised, had we allowed it to be openly debated." They were looking at him with incredulity now, and Dar-Kem resisted the urge to smile, knowing that he already had them in the palm of his hand. All that would be needed now would be to close the gap and make them understand the thing that needed doing. "Yes," he said in answer to their unspoken question, "We knew his theory was valid. How could we not know such a thing? The evidence was overwhelmingly in favor of the conviction that life on Wolframa had been engineered by a non- terrestrial source. Not the Gods of ancient legend or more primitive understanding, quite naturally. We are of an enlightened age and know full well that the Universe is vast and random in behavior. Only intelligence can guide the creation of intelligence, and we knew full well that an earlier civilization had to exist in order to account for our being here in the first place." He could see the questions forming in their minds now, but rather than allow them time to ask he pressed on with his driving thesis, "An ancient civilization created the habitable biosphere of Wolframa, gestated life upon this world and planned out the diversity with a careful eye towards balance. The ancients then left their seed upon Wolframa in the form of our ancestors, but rather than continue to thrive and guide us in our destiny these Ancients warred among themselves and brought an end to their vast star-faring empire. "The collapse, as near as we can determine it, was total. We were alone on this world, left to make our own way, rediscover our science and form a society that could survive the many challenges to our continuing existence. The fact that we did indeed survive to prosper and dominate this world is proof of the very accomplishments of our ancestors. "Dar-Kem," said Councilor Lim-Ba, a bureaucratic functionary who fancied himself a social theorist, "If we are, as you say, descended from some long-forgotten space culture, then why should we withhold this knowledge from the rest of the Assembly, let alone our people?" "Because people can be weak and foolish if given too much knowledge," Dar-Kem replied soberly, "Belief is a two-edged sword that can turn against us if we do not control it. If people knew, for example, that the High Council that governs their lives is descended from the very same Keepers that they have been told were put down by the All-Conquering First Empress they might refuse to acknowledge our authority or cooperate in our periodic struggle against our rivals of the West and South continents. They might even agitate for a restoration of the discredited Federal system that we all so rightly hold in contempt. Belief shapes the destiny of nations, and without belief you have apostasy and confusion. "For a long time after early colonization a balance was maintained upon our world by the Keepers, who had been charged by the ancients with insuring that human conduct would be maintained within orderly limits. But then She-La arrived upon the scene and upset that balance, destroying all that we had created. Science became ungoverned and was allowed to tamper into many forbidden areas, the result being catastrophe as our birth rate multiplied while our resources dwindled. Eventually science exhausted the material limits of our world and nearly brought an end to life as we had known it for generations. "Only the advent of the High Council prevented total extinction for our race when the Biosphere collapsed and became incapable of sustaining human life. Greed and stupidity, the inevitable result of allowing unchecked growth and exploitation, caused this collapse. We, of course, took advantage of the ensuing chaos to insinuate ourselves into positions of authority and gradually, over time, engineered our eventual takeover. By that time the degradation of our atmosphere had progressed too far, forcing us to withdraw a select population chosen from the survivors to reconstitute our society in a more controlled and enlightened direction. Stability has always been the guiding theme behind all of our actions. What progress we have permitted has been strictly regulated to conform to pre-designated standards. We simply cannot allow the establishment of any radical new technology that might upset this delicate balance, it would undermine us completely and lead to the establishment of power-centers outside our direct supervision. "Without our leadership humanity would long ago have abandoned our guidelines and reverted to the insane blind quest for personal enrichment. People would breed uncontrollably and men and women would associate without regard to any social structure. We would rapidly deplete our limited resources and fall prey to the kind of desperate scramble that prevailed in the waning cycles of the old Federation. Instead of the present rivalries that still occur between contending Domes, there would be open violence of neighbor against neighbor in which only a few would survive at the cost of the greater whole. "That is why we must be firm in rejecting that path. Mar-Tan wanted us to follow the example of the very ancients who perished long ago from their own excesses. The awakening of this new technology is too far advanced for our control. Worse still, it would mean that it was possible to travel outside the boundaries of our world, to live beyond the authority of the Council. As I have just illustrated, such a thing would mean the end of everything for which we have ever represented or believed in. "That is the threat we are now posed with," he concluded with dire emphasis, "Kar-Tor has succeeded in awakening a technology that should have remained in the past. He has proven the viability of his Transporter, and he has done so by sending his protégé towards a distant solar system!" Now there was a definite outburst. Several Council members spoke all at once and in such loud and angry tones that they succeeded only in drowning out one another. Dar-Kem withheld acknowledgment of any one speaker, preferring to allow themselves to shout each other down until the Prime Speaker could order silence. He knew their questions and protests intimately and saw no need to take sides or favor one speaker over the others. Instead he waited for the Prime Speaker himself to address him, having calculated in advance the exact direction in which he would need to guide his fellows in arriving at a preferred decision. "Dar-Kem," the Prime Speaker said gravely, "What precisely is it that you wish from this Assembly? You make a convincing presentation in favor of whatever it is that you are proposing, and you have sufficiently alarmed us of the need, but as yet we do not understand the full nature of what is at stake here." "My learned peers," Dar-Kem calmly replied to the more than fifty anxious faces turned towards him, "I trust I do not need to enlighten you all as to the true nature of former Councilor Kar-Tor, who and what he truly is and why we have nature to fear him." "I understood he was executed by our people attempting to escape from the crime scene," remarked Councilor Jor-Wil, the Committee Minister of Communications. "That is what he wanted us to believe," Dar-Kem said grimly, "And it is far from the first time that he has arranged appearance to suite his designs. Often in the past he has used such a pretext to justify dropping out of sight and vanishing from all sensors. He is legendary for his ability to go undetected for many long cycles while he directs his mischief from a hidden refuge. Indeed, he is the father of all Legends where it comes to walking unrecognized among us. It was for this, among other reasons, that he was asked to join the High Council in the first place. The only time we have ever been truly certain of his activities is when he has operated openly where his movements can be observed and reported." "Why even bother if he's such a threat?" asked War Minister Jes-Ey of the Helm, "Why not just execute him as we would any other misfit?" "Because he is the one man we cannot do away with," Dar-Kem replied, "Believe me, we have tried on many occasions. He cannot die. He is an anomaly that defies all rational understanding." "Cannot die?" Jes-Ey snorted, "Ridiculous! Everyone dies sooner or later..." "Not him," Dar-Kem said sourly, "He is a Guardian, and as such immune to time and injury. He has existed for as long as we have reliable historical records. He predates the time of She-La herself and is the oldest remnant of a time when such irrationalities were accepted without denial." "That impossible fable about a Guardian who taught She-La to oppose the Keepers is real?" Lim-Ba said dismissively, "Excuse me but I thought that this was a gathering of intelligent men who represent what is best in our society! I had no idea that we were being called upon to give serious attention to some vestige of superstitious folklore." "Next thing we know you will be telling us the legends of Iron Star!" said Bil- lie of Graham, the Minister of Morale and Contentment. "Not legends nor folklore," Dar-Kem persisted, "Fact undisputed. Kar-Tor is the one threat that we have never been able to effectively remove, and now he is laughing behind our backs while attempting his most outlandish scheme to date. By sending his apprentice to another world he has violated the most ancient of all rules in our order and demonstrated that life is possible on other worlds besides Wolframa. If he can convince others of this singular achievement, then he could well open the way for future such projections, possibly recruiting dissidents from within our own government to help him establish a safe refuge well beyond the reach of this Council. It that day should come to pass, my fellow Councilors, then you will find yourselves reduced to irrelevancy, and it will become the Council itself that is rendered little more than a folklore." "How can you be so certain that he was successful?" asked Ar-May more reasonably, "For all we know his apprentice died in the transmission." "We know that this was not the case," Dar-Kem said coldly, "Despite Kar-Tor's attempts to destroy his prototype, our Technicians were at least partially successful in recovering the data transmissions. We have discovered that the target world was a planet close in size and composition to Wolframa, located over a thousand lightcycles from here in another solar system. The star this planet orbits is a Yellow Dwarf of negligible magnitude, but the location closely matches that of a celestial body recorded by the Ancients as one of the capitol trading centers of their vanished empire. Kar-Tor believed that a parallel offshoot of humanity was to be found there, and by sending Probe Droids through his prototype gate he was able to confirm that the dominant life-form of this world almost exactly matches a human genetic profile. The inhabitants are somewhat different in construction, but well within the parameters of evolutionary drift, which again exactly conforms to the predictions made by Mar- Tan. Kar-Tor then went so far as to send a laboratory specimen on his next transmission and obtained positive results that he believed confirmed that the atmosphere was viable enough on this world to support our form of life." This time the silence of the Council was entirely different from before. They were trying to absorb the information he was giving them, and at the same time formulate objections that would allow them to maintain some deniability against these implications. He did not grant them time enough to do so, "Everything that I have just told you has been confirmed beyond doubt by our Security and Research teams. You may ask Commander Kas-Par for the details, but believe me when I say that we have every reason to believe that Mar-Sa of Ninjarma is alive and seeking refuge on this new world. More to the point, we are certain that Kar-Tor believes this, and if he is certain, then you may well rest assured that so will others. She has become a symbol of our impotence, an embarrassment that cannot be allowed to continue. We cannot suffer this with dignity, my fellow Councilors, too much is at stake! As we buried Mar-Tan with his research, so must we do with his daughter, or else everything will be upended! "What I ask of you, my fellow Councilors, is that we study this device and learn its functions for one and only one reason: to find and retrieve the fugitive rebel! Mar-Sa must be returned to Wolframa before Kar-Tor can build another Transporter and return her his own way. There is enough left of the device that we can fabricate what is needed should the resources be provided to our research teams. We will work in absolute secrecy to this end. No one outside this room and those sworn to uphold that secrecy can be permitted full knowledge of what we are attempting. The device will be used once to recover the fugitive, then it will be disassembled and the knowledge of its construction once more buried. Kar-Tor will learn that there is no escape from the reach of the High Council, he will know that we can undo whatever he achieves. Only this way can the balance be maintained. Only this way can we maintain our grip on the established order!" "But," said Jor-Wil, "If this technology is possible, could it not also be used to benefit Ninjarma? If we could send people to other worlds, could we not also gather from those worlds the material resources that we have been rapidly depleting these last few generations?" "We could," Dar-Kem said, "But to do so would, in fact, destroy us. If others thought as you do, we would soon find our rivals declaring war to obtain this technology for themselves. It would upset the balance. Worse by far, having such means at our disposal would mean that there would be an end to rationing and the power to control material supplies. Our grip would substantially weaken if no one needed to fear having their supplies be cut off, and be assured that such abundant wealth would become a tempting target for subversion and would in itself constitute a threat to the balance. We cannot permit ourselves the luxury of being tempted in that direction. We must remain in control, and only by insuring dependence can we be certain that control will remain within our province." "Such control would mean nothing if we deplete our resources within two or three more generations," Ge-Par of Systems Management protested. "We must continue to rely upon those resources that can be harvested within our own Solar System," Dar-Kem replied, "Probe Droids will fulfill our basic needs, as they have been doing for the past seventy cycles. Only they can survive the rigors of space. Off-world exploration is impossible for human beings. Our early pioneers proved this beyond question, thus confirming the wisdom of our forbears, who forbade any Wolframan from bodily leaving this world." "Build such a device to insure it is never used again?" asked Na-Dor of Management Analysis, "Is that not a self-contradiction?" "How much of an investment of our limited resources would be required for such an undertaking?" Ge-Par wondered. "I will not deceive you," Dar-Kem replied, "The cost will be considerable, but the alternative is to allow Kar-Tor to continue his work unhindered. Would you prefer to spare the resources that may be used by others when they replace us?" "Your point is well taken," said Prime Speaker Gin-Grach, "Is it the judgment of this Assembly that the issue before us is sufficiently debated that we may now have a motion to form a proposal?" It was not to be that swiftly decided, of course, but Dar-Kem knew that he had already won a verdict. The vote would be unanimous and the funding would be allocated. The Council would create their own Teleporter with the provision that its use be restricted to a single purpose. It went exactly as he has known it would, and Commander Kas-Par was shortly to be notified of this verdict. The proposal would, of course, have to move on for full confirmation by the Main Assembly, but they would only be informed that the device was for mining purposes and had no other significant value. It would be known by a few outside of the mainstream, of course, just for what purpose the device was truly intended, but only one man besides Dar-Kem fully understood its exact nature and bearing. Even then, as time would demonstrate, even Dar-Kem did not fully comprehend what was happening, but by the time he came close to such understanding, of course, it would be far too late for recriminations... "Sure is nice of you two boys giving us girls a lift," Phoebe said with her most winning smile, "These days it's not too safe to travel the highway." "No sweat, little missy," said the driver, "Know what it's like having to look over your shoulder to wondering about another guys intentions. Got a daughter your age works in a local diner, and I worry myself nights wondering if she'll fall in with the wrong crowd. Too many weirdoes about, and you can't tell whose right just by looking." "Ain't that the truth, Leroy?" said the other Trucker riding up front, "Just the other day I was mentioning how things are going to hell in this country. Too many damned foreigners who ain't even fit to speak our language! Too many Jews and Niggers control everything in this country, getting so an honest good ol' boy can't draw a breath without having to file a claim with the government." "By the way," said Leroy Hearns, the driver, "What parts did you say your friend hailed from?" "Um, back east," Phoebe replied, glancing to Mar-Sa, who sat in the back of the cab, trying to maintain an appearance of normalcy that wavered every so often, "She just arrived in this state and lost most of her possessions. I'm helping her get to her family on the coast, but we had a breakdown a few miles back, and Autoclub won't handle the cost of another rental." "Insurance premiums are too high in this state anyway," the second man, named Hugh Langley, said darkly, "Just another Jew Plot to price us honest folk out of driving our own cars and trucks. Like Diesel ain't outrageous enough this near the coastline!" Phoebe winced somewhat whenever that man said the word Jew, Mar-Sa noticed. From the tight expression of her friend's face she could tell that Phoebe regarded the second man as some manner of cretin. In truth she did not feel very much at ease about the second man, who had short- cropped blond hair and was much paler than Phoebe. His manner was too bitter, too abrupt, and he tended to say many things that seemed to project all the evils of the world onto those whom he regarded as sub-human, which pretty much seemed to mean everyone besides people who looked exactly the same as he did. Mar-Sa felt a little stab of discomfort every time he spoke of people of foreign nationality, considering what he would probably have thought had he known what she truly looked like. There was great bitterness in this man's conscious thought processes, and she sensed much deeper wounds inside him that some part of her mind labeled as "Inner Demons." The other man was an entirely different matter. Leroy was easy-going and friendly, a man who joked a lot and seemed to take everything in stride, a basically likable and honest individual of common working man's standard who wanted little from life but to make a decent living and take care of a family that he seldom saw because of the nature of his business. She suspected that he would not disapprove of her if she were to reveal herself to him, but she knew that this was not a very good idea. Such a man as this should not be involved with her problems, she decided, and so she kept her silence and continued to project an image of herself more consistent with what these natives would consider normal. She only hoped that she would not have to maintain the illusion for too much longer. It was becoming more and more of a strain the closer they came to sunset... "Been back east a few times," Leroy remarked casually, "Got some fine timber country out there. What parts are you from?" "Originally, I'm from LA," Phoebe replied, "But I've lived in other parts. My folks are from the Midwest, and I've got grandparents who own a farm in Nebraska." "Still own their own farm?" Hugh said, "That must be a rarity these days! Damned banks took everything in the mid-Eighties..." "Actually, I meant your friend," Leroy said mildly, "The tall shy one. What's her name again?" "Marsha," Phoebe replied, "And she doesn't say much. She's kind of the shy, bookish type, grew up in the cities..." "Which one?" Leroy asked. Phoebe hesitated, glanced at Mar-Sa, then said, "New York, I think. At least I think that's where she's from." "You don't know much about her, do you?" Hugh stated as a fact. "Well, I know enough," Phoebe smiled, "I know I like her and want to see her safely home. Any problem with that?" "No problem, Missy," Leroy said, "Tell you what, how about I put on some traveling music? You like Country?" "Yes, music," Mar-Sa replied before Phoebe could stop her. "Sounds like that did the ticket," Leroy grinned, "All right, how about some Hank Williams Jr., or would you prefer Garth Brooks?" "Ah," Phoebe winced, "What about Melissa Esterich?" "You don't mean that New Age radical Hippie stuff?" Hugh scoffed, "You should try listening to some real Country, down home and American, not some warm and fuzzy crap that makes you feel all gooey and..." "Hugh," Leroy gently reprimanded, "Now don't be rude. If the lady wants something that's easy on the nerves, I'm sure some Reba McKintyre will go over just dandy." Phoebe let out a sigh and said, "Thanks," but Mar-Sa could tell that she was eyeing High with clear distaste, and small wonder at that. The man had very strong opinions, and many of them were negatively focused against minorities and any scapegoat that he could think about. He reminded her of some of the people that she had the displeasure of associating with during her Academy years, before earning her Apprentice rating. Kar-Tor had always said that those in authority often used group prejudice to manipulate people so that they would never doubt the validity of their own cause or association. She could see now that for some people the need to blame others for their own misfortune had a strong obsessive quality that compensated for an inflexible and limited mindset. Hugh had problems causing him to radiate distrust towards everything that was beyond his understanding. It was a defensive psychosis, of a sort, that made him mercurial and moody, and for some reason he was focusing his rage towards Phoebe. The ride was otherwise pleasant, and it was interesting to listen to the two men, perceiving more than just the surface impressions that they projected as their surface thoughts were easy to read and told her a lot more about the kind of society that they were a part of. More and more she was coming to appreciate the rich diversity and culture of this world, even more the regional divisions living side-by-side without the same rigid isolation and hostility that she was used to. Leroy was a very friendly man, uncomplicated and surprisingly perceptive, and she could tell that Phoebe liked him from the casual ease with which she answered his questions. Hugh, on the other hand, was actually a rather sad individual who lacked self- esteem and brought many of his own troubles upon himself because of his erratic behavior and anti-social outlook. A string of failed jobs and a bad relationship that seemed to have ended on a very hostile note distinguished his most recent memories and appeared to confirm in his own mind the self-justified claim that the world was out to get him. She even perceived that there was a custody battle over a child that he and a woman he referred to as his "Ex" had waged in the legal system, which further estranged him from the very system that he lived under. There was something in his thoughts about a restraining order, and many violent impulses interspersed with images that were as turbulent and ugly as anything tht she had so far experienced in such scanning. He and Leroy had been friends for many years, but they were as different as night and day in temperament, and Mar-Sa knew instinctively that Hugh was a man that it would be very unwise to upset in any manner. In point of fact he seemed to be looking for trouble, or-at the very least- confirmation of his own paranoid obsessions, and try as she might Phoebe was having a difficult time avoiding any subject with which he might take issue. The flash point came when Hugh interrupted an interesting ballad by some performers called The Highway Men with the curt declaration: "Enough of this Liberal Shit, change the channel, Leroy. I want to hear some Gospel music, not these drugged-out reprobates." "Gospel?" Phoebe reacted with a visible wince, "I'd really...rather you didn't." That was all Hugh needed to turn a sharp look towards her, "You got something against Gospel?" "Actually, I do," Phoebe said, "But if you want to listen to it, fine. I won't object." "What have you got against Gospel?" Hugh frowned, "Are you a Jew?" "No," Phoebe said, "I'm a Presbyterian by birth, but I have a Jewish grandmother. Actually, these days I'm what you might call uncommitted." "I knew it!" Hugh growled, "An Atheist! You one of them Secular Humanist, radical feminist free-love Pagans..." "Hugh," Leroy said, trying to calm his friend down once more from yet another angry tirade. "I won't have this filthy Satanist and her Fag girl-friend..." "Hugh!" this time Leroy snapped, his tone indicating that even he was finding it difficult to remain neutral, "Not in my truck, all right? I don't want you being rude in front these ladies, and if you can't mind yourself and be civil, then I'll drop you off at the nearest bus stop. Either that or you can walk home." That brought the other man up short and he subsided back into his seat, but the surly mood did not go away and only intensified the longer he kept up this silence. Mar-Sa watched him intently, expecting another outburst at any time in the ensuing silence that lingered for a time following that brief altercation. In that time Mar-Sa tried to make some sense of the man's words, once more drawing upon the borrowed memories that had been servicing her since morning, yet no insight that she could gain would have prepared her for the next words Hugh spoke, for they were on a different subject entirely and nothing that could be expected. "Hey, Leroy," the man said, "Doesn't she remind you a little of Maggie?" "Say what?" Leroy reacted with a start. "She looks like my Ex," Hugh turned to glare at Phoebe, and the look he gave was-if anything-more unfriendly than ever. "Come on, Hugh," Leroy tried to sound reasonable, "You're not going there again, are you? I told you, you gotta let go..." "You let go," Hugh snapped at him, "The bitch tore my heart out and stomped on it, took my kid, took my house, my truck, my life! How exactly am I supposed to let go of all that?" "Easy, I'm on your side, remember?" Leroy said, glancing back at Phoebe before saying, "Well, yeah, she does look a little bit like her, but you can't make much out of that..." "What's that supposed to mean?" Hugh demanded. "Nothing," Leroy said, "Maggie's a fine woman, just a little high strung is all., but there are lots of women who look enough like her to remind you of her, so settle down and don't make such a fuss..." "They're not like my Maggie," Hugh growled, once more giving a hostile glance towards Phoebe. "Sure, whatever, guy," Phoebe responded, but Mar-Sa could read the thoughts clearly in her mind, silently asking the man what his problem was, and classifying him as a closet Psycho. Mar-Sa was inclined to agree that the man had serious issues to resolve, but she was not trained in Psychotherapy and could only diagnose his condition as one of clinical dissociation. There was something dangerous in the way the man was looking at her friend, and it made her own skin fairly crawl to be so near to him that she could feel the anger that swelled within him, slowly gaining in focus, though outwardly he seemed to subside into melancholy introspection. The ride continued without further incidence and it gradually became easier for her to shut the rude man's thoughts out of her conscious awareness. She was beginning to see the disadvantages that came with telepathy, making her further understand how much discipline it would take to master this ability. She would need solitude and isolation before she could withstand the presence of minds this poorly shielded. To keep focused on something other than Hugh, she began to take more serious notice of the sights along the way as they passed through city after city: some very small and rustic-looking settlements, others large and fairly crowded with people. The very vehicle that they were riding within was itself a source of considerable interest as ancient transports of this type had long ago been superseded by unmanned cargo shuttles. The sort of men who apparently worked on these transports were clearly a hardly and independent breed who resented authority even as they observed the laws of the society they lived within. Clearly not all these rules were popular ones, but these were reasonably honest men, and Mar-Sa found herself privately admiring their spirit. There was little in her experience to compare it to upon Wolframa. Before too long they came across a large, expansive tract of open buildings that seemed to form one continuous stretch of civilized landscape. From her growing rapport with Phoebe she knew that they were passing through a city called Oakland that was "across the bay" from the city of San Francisco. They were almost to their goal, which amazed her to no end since they had not encountered one patrol or regional check-point, which would have been standard in Ninjarman territory and implied that a low standard of security was in force in their society. There was no sense of fear that outward scrutiny might be turned towards them, giving further evidence of the unbelievable standard of personal freedom enjoyed by these people. It was sobering to think of this staggering difference, or what she had for so long taken to be normal. She noticed a change in the tone of the engine as they took a leisurely turn into the driveway of some type of combination fuel station and food dispensation depot, and it was this thought that suddenly reminded her that she had not eaten since the morning and was becoming increasingly aware of an emptiness in her stomach. She looked to Phoebe with a questioning expression and saw her friend smile back in a reassuring manner. "End of the line, folks," Leroy announced matter-of-factly, "Been a pleasure having you along, but this is as far to 'Frisco as we come on this route." "Thanks, pal," Phoebe said, "You've been a big help, but we can manage from here." "No problem at all, little lady," Leroy smiled, "Just having the pair of you around's brightened this trip up considerable like. Mind if we buy you girls a meal before we go our separate ways?" "Like we ain't spent enough all ready?" Hugh grumbled under his breath. "Tempting," Phoebe said, "But I'm kind of in a hurry to bet back home and let people know that we're all right. Some other time, big fellow." "Suite yourselves," Leroy smiled, parking his vehicle before turning to glance Mar-Sa's way with an amiable nod, "Too bad we never got better acquainted, Missy. Got a feeling there's something about you that's kind of special. Quiet types usually have the most interesting stories." "Perhaps," Mar-Sa replied, hoping he would not look much harder in her direction as her mentally constructed image was beginning to exhaust her. The sun was lower in the horizon, and with its slow descent she could feel the strength it gave her was gradually waning from the high point that she had experienced at mid-day. Leroy and Hugh stepped down from the cab and held the doors open until Phoebe could do likewise. Mar-Sa was last to depart the now-motionless vehicle, but she took note that the engine was continuing its rumble as Leroy deliberately left it running. She could see in his surface thoughts that he intended to grab "a few snacks" before continuing their travels, but there was something about Hugh's thoughts that was closed to her scrutiny. In fact there was something about the nature of the man that she found herself disliking more than ever. She could actually see a dark-red halo of color surrounding him like some translucent barrier, not as powerful as the golden glow that she could still feel surrounding her own body, but certainly proof against her casual inspection. He was looking towards her in a way that she did not like and his expression was all but unreadable, glowering and unfriendly. Phoebe touched her arm and motioned for Mar-Sa to follow her as she turned towards a nearby building and said, "C'mon, Marsha, let's call a cab. I've got enough on me to get us to my place." "All right," Mar-Sa replied, wondering what a cab was and how they were supposed to summon it, when the image formed in her mind of a transport for hire piloted by an individual who accepted monetary fare for transportation. They were in a large open lot that had many other vehicles like the truck that they had arrived in parked in some semblance of order, so to get to where they wanted to go they had to pass by several of these vehicles, which were of an interesting variety of types and colors, no doubt reflecting the individuality of their drivers. It was as they were about to pass the last of these vehicles that they were suddenly met by Hugh, who had come around from the front end of this vehicle, placing himself directly in the path of Phoebe. "Hey!" she said in protest, "What are you...?" Her question was not completed because the man suddenly drew something from behind his belt and flashed it at her, causing Phoebe to jump back a half-step with eyes wide in shock as Mar-Sa saw the gleam of something metallic threatening her friend. Hugh held the weapon in one callused fist and glared at her before saying in a low, guttural voice, "Who are you and who sent you?" "I...what?" Phoebe started. "Did my ex-wife send you?" he growled, taking a half-step forward, his anger growing as bright as his aura, "Were you sent to spy on me?" "I...no way!" Phoebe backed up as far as she dared, "You on some kind of drugs, mister? I don't even want to know you!" "Leave her alone." Mar-Sa barely recognized her own voice as she growled out those words. Hugh suddenly turned on her and yelled, "I ain't crazy, I tell you! I want what's mine, and no bitch is gonna deny me!" With that he stabbed at her, but she was more than ready. She caught his wrist as though he were moving in slow motion, and she was not very gentle in doing so. She felt the man's bones give ever-so-slightly under the pressure she exerted, causing his expression to go from angry astonishment to painful dismay. His legs began to give out on him as he collapsed to his knees, trying to pry her hand off his wrist with his good member, and for one terrible instant Mar-Sa realized that she was breaking his arm without half trying. "Ahhh!" he almost screamed, "Let me go, you fucking dyke! You're killing me!" "Marsha!" Phoebe's voice shocked Mar-Sa into letting the man go, and for a long moment they were too stunned by the exchange to say or do anything more as Mar- Sa looked down at the man, then at the weapon he had dropped. Her behavior had been so instinctive and impulsive that she could hardly believe the savagery of her own responses. She looked down at her gloved hands, aware that she was losing the focus she needed to maintain her outward illusion. A thought occurred to her and she realized that the man was not entirely defeated. She could sense his anger rekindling once the initial pain had passed him by, so she scooped up the knife before he could even think of it and held it up where he could see it. Then she brought the tip to the palm of her hand and pressed it firmly by the handle, breaking it cleanly in half before his much- astonished expression. "What...who are you?" he demanded, now seeing her fully without her disguise. "You need help," she informed him as levelly as she could, then a new impulse came upon her as she glanced around to be certain no one else was looking. She turned to the vehicle on her right and quickly estimated its mass and center of balance, then reached down and took firm hold of the front end, moving around to the front of the cab and exerting pressure as she felt her power swelling up in her once more, allowing her to test her limits at even her present somewhat diminished level. The cab gave under her effort with grudging resistance, but there was no strain in picking the vehicle up off its front tires and tilting the cab back until she could hold it up above her head, then turned to the man and said, "Go now before I get angry." Hugh scrambled to his feet, clutching his fractured wrist, then turned and screamed something about monsters as he headed towards the gas station. Mar-Sa wasted no time in setting the five-ton cab back down on its front wheels, then turned to regard Phoebe with a questioning look. "Was that too much?" she asked. "Ah no," Phoebe swallowed, "I think you got your point across. He won't be coming back, but..." "Now others will know that I was here and give a description," Mar-Sa sadly noted. For some reason Phoebe found enough humor in the situation to smile at that, "I wouldn't worry too much about anybody taking that nut too seriously, but I think we'd better get moving anyway. No sense waiting around for a cab if you can't maintain that illusion of yours for much longer." "Agreed," Mar-Sa sighed, "We must fly, then." "Fly?" Phoebe's eyes went round, "Across the Bay? Are you kidding?" "I do need more practice," Mar-Sa replied, "Is it a very large body of water?" Phoebe slowly smiled, "Not really, but...well, I guess it won't hurt, just as long as we stay low and avoid the air lanes. People might see us, but who'd notice another UFO in this state? It's a beautiful day, the sun's about to set, and well..." she smiled, "You really have to see the Golden Gate Bridge when that happens." "By all means, then," Mar-Sa said as she extended her arms with an invitation, accepting Phoebe into her embrace once more and marveling at how light the other woman felt. She tried not to think about the man whom she had so casually injured a few moments before this, aware of how fragile these Terrans were, and what a great responsibility it was to see no such injury happened to this woman towards whom she was feeling so protective. The fact that Phoebe was so willing to trust her gave Mar-Sa a very strange kind of thrill, and she was beginning to wonder if maybe there were some other part of the human experience that came with this strange phenomenon called friendship... (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.