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. Chapter Nine. Heaven "Here you go, Shepherd," Major Brookhurst said as he handed the car keys back to Rick, "All yours and good as new." "Just like that, huh?" Rick asked as he studied the burly man warily, "You mean I'm free to go?" "No one's stopping you," Brookhurst replied, "It's still a free country, and we haven't got any evidence implicating you directly in any sort of anti-government plot." "Gee, I'm so reassured," Rick sniffed, "So what's the catch?" "No catch," Brookhurst said, "You're even free to publish your story, assuming you can find a reputable paper that would print anything you write. Got enough UFO groups out there that maybe one of them might even listen to you if you try them. Just tell them I said hi." "What, they got your number on speed dial or something?" Rick asked, but decided not to push the matter any further. He looked around the warehouse building that they were in and noticed lots of men in suits, almost as many as the soldiers, some wearing dark sunglasses indoors, which was not a good sign by any stretch of the imagination. The last thing he needed at this point was give Brookhurst an excuse to make his stay an extended one. He got into his vehicle, careful to mark the condition of the furnishings as if expecting to find evidence that the entire vehicle had been taken apart and put back together. He checked the glove compartment and found the usual mess of road maps and travel gear, then he looked in the middle-seat compartment just to be certain. His CD collection appeared to be in place, but one was missing: the Moody Blues Greatest Hits. The case was on top but proved to be empty. It was only by checking the player itself that he was able to find it. He looked questioningly at Brookhurst, who just smiled and nodded. "Your people do good work," Rick idly noted. "Best in the business," Brookhurst boasted, then snapped his fingers as if remembering something of a sudden, "Oh, and by the way, Shepherd...I'd take it as a personal favor if you don't go barging in on any further aspect of this case. We're still trying to piece together what actually took place here, and it would be an enormous embarrassment to the government if you tried to poke holes in our cover story." "Still saying it's a meteorite?" Rick asked, "What about the blonde? Your people must have found something about her. Any idea where she might be headed?" "That's what I'm talking about," Brookhurst continued to smile, but not at the level of his eyes, "Leave matters to the proper authorities and it'll be a lot healthier for all concerned." "That's what I figured you'd say," Rick replied, starting up the engine and tensing slightly. When the car did not immediate explode he let out a sigh and said, "How do I know it's safe to drive?" "There's no bomb in the trunk, Shepherd," Brookhurst assured him, "And no one's tempered with the brakes. I mean what I say when I say you're free to go. Just remember not to quote my name when you write your story, and with any luck we won't be seeing each other again. I'll always know where to find you." "And here I thought we had the beginnings of a beautiful friendship," Rick said with cynical regard, "Don't step on any landmines." Brookhurst nodded to his people as Rick pulled out of the warehouse, then two soldiers drew the doors shut and closed the room off from the outside. It was dark, even with artificial lighting, as one of the suited men moved closer to speak with him and say, "Are you sure it was a good idea to let him go?" "Positive," Brookhurst replied, "He can't do us any real harm, and he's bound to prove an asset in the long run." "So you don't expect him to listen to your advice?" "Men like Shepherd aren't so easy to deter, gentlemen," Brookhurst replied, "I gave him just enough information to let him find his way from here. I guarantee he'll home in on our missing fugitives like a Smart bomb, saving us all a lot of trouble while drawing as little attention to himself as we need." "Still sounds like one hell of a risk, Major," the dark suited man remarked, "I hope you know what you're doing." "Me, too," Brookhurst murmured, just as one of the side doors opened and a different sort of individual was admitted past security. This man was very different from the others, blond and dressed in more casual ware, tan suite and sporting jacket, but having about him an air of authority to whom other men were expected to accede. He approached Brookhurst with a hint of impatience in his tone, and his accent was formal, most decidedly British. "I came as quickly as I could," he said, "I trust that there was a very good reason for my summons?" "We're sorry to bother you, Sir," Brookhurst replied, "But I thought you should be brought up to date on our branch of the investigation." "I trust you have more to share than in your last report?" the man said crisply. "Yes, Mister Ariel," Brookhurst waved to one of his attaches and they came forward with a file folder, which was presented to the man for inspection, "As you can see fingerprint analysis has so far identified one of the two suspects as a Miss Phoebe Winters who lives at this address, according to her Drivers License." "It took you this long to find that out?" the other man said, then frowned as he said, "Curious that it would be her who made first contact and not one of our people." "The girl appears to have been in the wrong place at the right time," Brookhurst resumed, "An unfortunate chain of circumstances, too many to be just coincidental. I believe you know her?" "That is not your concern," the other man said sharply, "Stick to normal procedure and let me worry about the extraneous details. I assume that you have managed to work out a chronology of the main subjects activities since her arrival?" "As near as we can determine with hourly precision," Brookhurst replied, "It's only been something more than thirty hours since we discovered her forced landing, and since then she's been on the run until she and your lady-friend reached San Francisco proper. I've got their location under surveillance, but my people have made no overt contact, as per your orders." "Then tell them under no circumstances are they to make their presence known," the other man said firmly, "We do not entirely know what we are dealing with here, and that ignorance could wind up exposing either us or the public to unknown risks that are unacceptable. I trust that your people can maintain a low profile while we conduct the rest of our investigation?" "That's what Uncle Sam pays them for," Brookhurst replied, "But what about the other investigation being conducted on the second subject, this fellow you've been after, Mark Daniels?" "That is my concern, Major," the other man said, "But it is my belief that the two are somehow related. Until I gather more information from my end I consider the matter of the utmost secrecy and will share what I know only with my immediate superior. Understand me?" "Perfectly," Brookhurst said, "And what about the opposition?" "As far as we know they appear to be unaware of these events," the blond man said simply, "But that will change as the rate of incidence rises. Paranormal events of this sort have a tendency to attract the wrong sort of attention in the public. I want your assurance that this investigation will be conducted circumspectly, with a minimum number of people involved. Above all else we do not want to draw the wrong sort of attention." "Trust me on that, sir," Brookhurst replied, "I've just put my best man on the case, and we should be seeing results before too long. You can inform Mister Richardson that everything is being done to prevent this situation from escalating any further." "It had better not," the other man replied, "Or your other superiors in Washington may be the ones asking unfortunate questions." "Just leave me and my team to do our work, Sir, you won't be disappointed,: Brookhurst replied, "We'll keep close tabs on our lady friends and see they don't get themselves into too much more trouble." "See that you don't," the man named Ariel replied, "Or it won't be just me that you'll be answering to, it will be my lady, Catherine. It's her property that you have under surveillance." To that Brookhurst could only nod in assent and repress an entirely justifiable shudder, much preferring a full Congressional investigation over a confrontation with the other man's lady, whose reputation in her field of expertise was more than legendary... "So, think you can tell me anything more about this Mark Daniels guy?" Phoebe murmured as she and Mar-Sa lay side-by-side on the bed amid sweat-soaked sheets that were in total disarray. "I'm afraid not," Mar-Sa replied, "Only that the memories keep surfacing at odd moments, every time I make a reference to something with which he was familiar." "Well, at least your language skills have improved," Phoebe remarked, "You almost sound like a native, none of that accent you started with. Now you almost sound Midwestern." "I've had some encouragement on that," Mar-Sa smiled, looking fondly at the naked girl laying beside her, then she leaned back and stretched, "I feel wonderful! The sun is up and my powers are returning to full normal. I feel alive...truly alive for the first time that I can ever remember. It's so wonderful on your world...a bit primitive, but absolutely delightful." "Glad to hear that," Phoebe smiled, then uncovered herself and rolled off the bed, "Because I need to pee, then I'll go and make breakfast. I assume you're hungry again?" "Starving," Mar-Sa replied, already feeling regret at the separation as she watched Phoebe slip into a negligée and robe. The robe she had borrowed from the night before lay somewhere amid the tumble of the blankets. "Not surprising, if the way you went through that pizza's any indication," Phoebe gave her a pleasant look before she slipped into the bathroom. Mar-Sa began to sit upright, staring around at the four walls of the bedroom and wondering where she was to begin in her new life. Then she noted the small row of books on the nightstand beside the bed and curiosity took over. She carefully picked the first one up and looked at the cover, then flipped it open out of sheer reflex and began to read from left-to-right, which she sensed to be the Terran fashion. The words were-at first-incomprehensible to her, but slowly they resolved into meaningful symbols as she stared at the first sentence, then flipped the page over, scanning the text at a glance. Her mind instantly processed the information with a lightning speed similar to an implant, so she began flipping the pages more rapidly, taking only one glance at a time to comprehend the entire text, and before too long she found herself immersed in a narrative that she gradually came to understand was a fictional story, or novel. Curious indeed! And this was but one form of popular entertainment! Phoebe returned after flushing, finding Mar-Sa engrossed in the novel, scanning the pages as fast as she could flip them and already through several chapters. The other girl studied her for a time, then smiled and said, "Didn't know you could read." "I didn't know it either," Mar-Sa replied without looking up, "Phoebe...what precisely is this story about? It appears to be an account of several rather ordinary people getting involved in some manner of criminal conspiracy against the state..." "It's called a Spy Novel," Phoebe replied, "The main character is a guy who hunts down a mole and tries to expose him..." "Mole?" Mar-Sa paused, "That is a kind of burrowing animal...Oh! I see. You mean a traitor within the organization who actually works for a rival power?" "That's it," Phoebe said, "Of course La Carre's a great novelist, but not really my style. I like a different kind story that's got more action and romance. In fact, why don't I bring some of my books down and show them to you...I think you'll find it every bit as interesting as this stuff." "I would very much enjoy that," Mar-Sa said, now half way through the novel, "My word...there is a lot of violence in this story, but most of it is intricate. I can follow the plot, but there are many things I am having trouble understanding." "You can read that fast?' Phoebe asked in surprise. "My mind is comprehending at a rate that is difficult to describe," Mar-Sa replied, "I believe increased mental activity is but one of the talents I have gained. I am interested in reading more such literature, but I think that I should begin with a dictionary and work from there on an Encyclopedia so that I can understand things better." "Don't rush too soon," Phoebe replied, "A crash course in Earth culture could upset your breakfast. Why don't I show you another way we Earth People get by?" She picked up a small black object and pointed it at a box before depressing a button, and a moment later a picture appeared, complete with sound and moving images, which caused Mar-Sa to shift her attention away from the conclusion of the story. "That is...Television?" she hesitantly ventured. "TV for short," Phoebe said, "Or the Idiot Box, as Katie likes to call it. This is the remote control, just press a button and you can change channels or raise the volume, like so." She depressed another button and the image changed from a figure talking from the screen to a group of people sitting down in front of a larger crowd with one man holding a microphone and asking questions. Phoebe changed the channel yet again, and this time it was a scene with a man and a woman having what looked like a very serious discussion. "That's a Soap Opera," Phoebe remarked, "I really used to get into this one, but I just don't have the time anymore. Well, I'll go fetch breakfast. I called in sick today, so they won't miss me at work too much." "You told your employer a lie?" Mar-Sa asked. "Had to," Phoebe shrugged, "You shouldn't be alone on your second day here. I go away and I could find out the building won't be standing when I get back." "I would never wish to destroy this wonderful residence of yours..." Mar-Sa hastily reassured her friend. "I was joking!" Phoebe sounded exasperated, "I thought you'd catch on by now. Look, just sit here, or use the can, whatever you want, maybe even another bath..." "A bath," Mar-Sa brightened, "I would like that!" "Fine," Phoebe smiled, "Just be careful with the plumbing. I'll see you in a few minutes." "Thank you," Mar-Sa said, then on impulse said, "I love you!" Phoebe was caught half-way out the door when she turned and smiled incredulously, then replied, "I know you do, Marsha, and I love you, too, you big, beautiful Angel." "Angel?" Mar-Sa wondered aloud, but Phoebe was already on her way to the kitchen. An image in her mind formed of a being with wings who was associated with some kind of religious significance. She wondered at the reason for the analysis, then shrugged, deciding that it could wait until much later. As it so happened she was feeling an acute need for relieving her bladder, so she got up out of bed, feeling incredibly light-headed after surviving the ordeals of the past day. She paused to consider the Television, at once understanding the device to be a crude cathode-ray tube projector that produced a flat image by bombarding tri- colored photo-receptive sensors with sequentially pulsed energy emissions. Primitive, but effective, even though the image being projected at the moment appeared to be some form of public message designed to promote the purchase of something called tooth paste. Yet another mystery that would need future research, but at the moment-as Terrans would phrase it-nature was calling with a vengeance, a summons that was not to be put off any longer! While she was at it she decided a good shower would be nice, so she started up the hot water again, mindful this time to lower it slightly so that she did not produce as much steam as the night before. The hot water on her skin felt deliciously good, and again she marveled at how extravagant she was becoming on this world, to consider such waste of a precious natural resource a sign of luxury undreamed. Once she toweled herself down she tried to make use of the hairbrush she found next to the sink, but her thick, wiry strands proved difficult to comb through, and she gave it up after a few moments. Instead she redonned the bathrobe and went in search of Phoebe. She found her friend busy in the kitchen area creating all manner of fumes as she cooked something up on the stove. "Hey, Marsha," she called brightly over her shoulder, "Have a seat, I'm just whipping up some bacon and omelets." "Omelets?' Mar-Sa asked as she glanced down with a dubious expression, seeing the fragile looking metal chairs while trying to decide if they could support her mass without collapsing. "Yeah, it's one of the things I can usually cook without burning," Phoebe replied, "Katie's always criticizing my cooking. She's a real gourmet chef, has all kinds of recipes that have been handed down in her family since God talked to Moses..." "I mean...what is an omelet?" Mar-Sa asked, "I have a vague impression of something semi-organic, and I can tell from the odor that it should be more than satisfactory for my nutritional needs, but what is the exact composition?" "Oh," Phoebe said, "They're made with chicken eggs, a little milk, some cheese..." "Chicken eggs?" Mar-Sa blinked, "You mean...these were once part of an animal?" "Ah...yeah," Phoebe replied, "Domestic livestock. Why?" "It is just..." Mar-Sa took a deep breath before replying, "I have always eaten reprocessed protean concentrates that come from bacteria cultures that are grown in organic combination harvesters. My people haven't eaten animal byproducts since the founding of the Domes..." "Sounds like you've been on a steady diet of unsweetened Yogurt and Tofu," Phoebe remarked, "Can't be very tasty." "It is not," Mar-Sa replied with a reluctant shrug, "I suppose this is one of the adjustments I must make if I am to live here." "That's the spirit," Phoebe smiled, "Besides, you liked the Pizza last night, and that ain't any more kosher than this stuff..." "Kosher?" Mar-Sa repeated. "It's a Jewish thing," Phoebe smirked, "It means food blessed by a Rabbi, on the approved list of their dietary code, or something like that. Katie could answer that a heck of a lot better than I can, I just know they have a lot of really tasty dishes that I can't even pronounce, and I wouldn't even dare attempt to make them without Katie standing over me with a ladle." "I would very much like to meet this room mate of yours," Mar-Sa observed softly as she tested a chair, then decided to risk sitting down on it as she found a place at the round kitchen table. After deciding that it was safe to relax in that way, she venture onto another subject, "Um...Phoebe? I have been noticing that you have been making repeated references to various theological subjects, which I cannot quite relate to in my borrowed memories. You say that you are Jewish and Christian, and there is this talk of God...?" "Oboy," Phoebe sighed as she deposited a couple of plates loaded down with food- most of it being set before Mar-Sa, "You don't ask many easy questions, and that one's a toughie, Marsha." "I suppose that it is," Mar-Sa said as she looked down at her plate, then tentatively sampled one of the charred brown strips that smelled so strongly of charcoal. She tasted it and found it very salty and slightly bitter, but with an altogether appealing texture and flavor. "Well, you see," Phoebe began as she picked at the more meager fare on her plate, "It really depends on who you ask, because everybody's got an opinion on that subject. Religion's a subject a lot of people feel really intense about, and some of the worst wars ever waged got started over Religion." "Why should one's beliefs cause so much discord?" Mar-Sa wondered. "God only knows," Phoebe said with irony, "And she can be a real bitch herself at times. But if you want to know about Judeo-Christianity, well...it's kind of a long story." Mar-Sa paused as she began remembering something, then aloud she said, "Monotheism...the belief in one Creator God or principle, which excludes the many gods of Polytheism..." she blinked, "One God over many? That sounds very...tribalistic." "It is," Phoebe snorted, "Judaism allegedly began with thirteen tribes all united under a single God, allegedly going back to a father-figure named Abraham, but the nearest anyone can tell it really started at or about the time of Moses. He was this half-breed Egyptian Priest who convinced the Pharaoh to free his people from slavery so he could lead them to the promised land, where they founded the state of Israel, which really didn't get into full swing until the time of King David." "So this religion began as a tribal unity?" Mar-Sa frowned, "How odd...I think I am remembering something else I believe Mark Daniels wrote something he called a Term Paper on the subject, but his article, as near as I can remember it, took a very negative view of these Mytho-poetic origins." "We gotta meet this guy some day, Marsha," Phoebe replied as she picked up one of the utensils and demonstrated to Mar-Sa how to use them on the yellow substance she called an Omelet, "He sounds like an okay guy, or maybe just an Atheist. Me, I don't take a position on religion, it's safer that way. As long as God and me mind our own business I'm happy to let things slide and not try to lecture." "I find this all so very strange," Mar-Sa confessed, then took a sample bite out of her omelet and had a pleasantly surprised reaction, "And this is excellent! I have never tasted anything so delicious, not counting the pizza." "Glad you approve," Phoebe grinned, "Now I can tell Katie that at least somebody appreciates my cooking." "It's very good," Mar-Sa said between mouthfuls, then took a sip from the orange-colored nectar set aside in the glass and had another favorable reaction, "What is this called again?" "Orange Juice," Phoebe grinned, "It's not just from Florida. Can't take credit for that, though, I bought it in a carton." Mar-Sa took a deeper swallow of the juice, cleared her plate off, then sat back and sighed in blissful pleasure. Animal products or not, this Earth food had a surprising appeal that was almost addictive. Phoebe ate more delicately, which prompted her to ask, "Are you very hungry, Phoebe?" "Actually," Phoebe said in mild chagrin, "I'm kind of on a diet..." "Diet?" Mar-Sa looked at her plate, "Does this satisfy your nutritional balance?" "No, I..." Phoebe began to say, then chuckled, "I guess it wouldn't mean anything to you. I mean, you weight three times as much as I do! Don't know why I should complain about a weight problem." "You are attempting to control your calorie intake to maintain a stable weight balance?" Mar-Sa frowned, even more puzzled. "Actually, I've been trying to lose a few pounds," Phoebe took a deep breath, then said, "It's all about appearances, trying to look thin and sexy instead of feeling like a blimp, especially when its my period of the month." "Making yourself look attractive to others is important?" Mar-Sa asked in ever- growing confusion. "God, you really are an alien!" Phoebe laughed out loud, then promptly added, "But that's good! That means you haven't yet picked up one some of the negative stuff that comes with our culture. Count yourself lucky, you look great without even half trying." "I guess I do seem rather naïve," Mar-Sa returned her smile, feeling crestfallen and foolish, but glad to be with someone who appreciated her in spite of these character faults, "From where I sit, however, you do not need to work on making yourself more attractive. Not to me at any rate." Phoebe actually colored when she smiled this time, "Thank you...that's such a sweet thing to say. God, you are really something else, Marsha...and I can't believe how lucky I am to know you." "Lucky?" Mar-Sa wondered as her mind went over the harrowing events of the previous day, following their meeting. "Compared to most people who haven't just spent the night making love to a beautiful Angel," Phoebe sighed with a look that made Mar-Sa feel very warm inside, and they reached out to touch hands from across the table, remembering in detail the delirious events that had kept them up until very late in the evening. Then Phoebe got up and took their plates over to the sink while Mar-Sa studied her and thought to herself that she was the one who had been most fortunate in their meeting. Surely, had she spent a night such as that with an Earth-man, he would not have been in any condition to be making her breakfast! "Wait here," Phoebe said after she finished cleaning the plates and leaving them to soak in hot, soapy water, "I've got something to show you." Mar-Sa watched her leave the room, curious and fascinated at one and the same instant. Phoebe was such a stark contrast to what she was accustomed to in her own society, both strong-willed and insecure, yet so very kind and considerate that she would welcome a complete stranger into her life and into her bed, and ask nothing in return besides the pleasure of her company. That someone such as her could exist on this world gave Mar-Sa great hope that exile would not be so lonely an experience. Phoebe returned a few moments later bearing some odd form of pamphlet literature that was contained inside plastic receptacles of some sort. She spread several of them out on the table the pointed to the cover of the first and said, "This is called a Comic Book...it's a kind of literature with pictures that I used to collect when I was younger. I keep these around sometimes when I get bored and want to relive fond memories from my childhood..." "Comic book?" Mar-Sa repeated, her mind instantly cataloguing the term as a form of popular medium that employed lithographic pen-and-colored ink sketches to illustrate the telling of a story. The ones set down in front of her were of a human female who wore an outfit somewhat different from Mar-Sa's own undergarments but still did not much resemble the normal type of Earth apparel that she had so far witnessed. The splash of garish color was similarly uninhibited, implying that the contents were of some larger-than-life mythic adventure. "Yeah," Phoebe said, almost defensively, "Some people think it's a kid's art, but the stories can be pretty adult and even kinda graphic, if you know what I mean. Most comics these days I can hardly stand, but these re the classics from back when they used to know how to tell a good story. I thought maybe you should see them on account of the fact that you...sort of have a lot in common with the heroine..." "I do?" Mar-Sa could not imagine such a thing, but at Phoebe's urging she slid the thin magazine out from the plastic covering and carefully handled the delicate paper with her fingers, turning the cover with the greatest of care as she sensed Phoebe tense as though afraid they would be damaged. She began scanning the pages at a glance, finding the combination of pictures and words quite easy to adjust to as the images almost seemed to flow into her mind, forming a coherent story that--while more than a little improbable in many ways- -was similar enough to her own life in some key points for Mar-Sa to comprehend the analogy that Phoebe was making. She flipped through three more before at last sitting back with a sigh, "Very strange, but now I think that I do understand something of what you are attempting to put across to me, Phoebe. This girl is an alien who has powers similar to mine and she employs them to the benefit of terran natives, whom she seeks to blend in with by adopting a common identity." "And?" Phoebe asked almost with hushed expectation. "I am sorry to disappoint you," Mar-Sa reluctantly replied, "But I don't see how this can at all relate to me as a career vocation. I do not look enough like one of you to be mistaken for a Terran, and I know so little about Earth culture as yet that I doubt I could be of much service as a sort of wandering hero doing good deeds for needy people." "Why not?" Phoebe argued, "I think you'd be great at this hero stuff, and you're the genuine article, not some fantasy fluff somebody dreamed up to satisfy his libido." "Perhaps so," Mar-Sa conceded, "But this girl has a kinsman who also serves as her mentor who is already established in the field and has set the example that she follows. I am all alone with no one to teach me what I need to know in order to fit in, and while the notion of helping others does appeal to me I could hardly expect to make a living at it. I have no form of practical employment, no way of supporting myself, unless I wish to surrender to your authorities, which does not seem like a very good option." "Yeah, well...I thought about that and I think I've already got it covered," she lay another larger magazine out on the table that did not come in a plastic cover. Mar-Sa stared at this magazine, which had a woman dressed in more conventional clothing posed in such a way as to seem elegant, if immodest. The picture was of excellent quality and the woman had a sort of flawless beauty that somehow did not seem entirely real. Mar-Sa carefully flipped through the pages of this magazine and soon came upon more such pictures of other women dressed in different kinds of form-fitting dress. The pictures were styled against somewhat exotic backdrops and had a kind of timeless quality that made the flashier aspects almost seem appealing. "It's called Modeling," Phoebe replied to Mar-Sa's unvoiced question, "People pay big bucks to take pictures of women wearing the latest fashion numbers from Paris. The idea is to sell the clothes, but it also means selling the mystique that goes with the idea of dressing up and looking good for other people. It's kind of like a marketing ploy where they make you think you could look good too if you could buy their outfits, and believe it or not, people do pay a lot for the privilege of wearing this stuff. Most only do it one time then throw them in the closet. One of these numbers here is worth more than six weeks of my salary, which is why I buy off the rack whenever I go shopping." "These women are very beautiful," Mar-Sa said in admiration, "But...the proportions in the photographs do not seem entirely correct. It is as though they have been deliberately lengthened..." "You picked up on that, huh?" Phoebe grinned, "Yeah, that's another part of the marketing, the use of clever camera tricks and computer enhancement to exaggerate the best parts of the models. The advantage you'd have over them is that you're already a natural, and you don't need to be airbrushed, especially with those gorgeous curves you're sporting." Mar-Sa felt a mixture of sensations as the pictured herself in these photographs, but at last she said, "Somehow this does not feel entirely honest..." She suddenly noticed the other magazine Phoebe was holding in her hands and curiosity prompted Mar-Sa to extend her own with a polite, "May I see that one, please?" "Ah...yeah," Phoebe seemed somewhat more reluctant as she handed this magazine over, "I was just getting around to this one. I know it'll probably seem a lot more shocking than the other ones..." "Playmate Magazine?" Mar-Sa examined the title, then stared at the model on the cover, who was sporting less in the way of clothing than the women in the other magazine. With growing curiosity Mar-Sa flipped it open and began scanning the pages until she came upon a different set of photos. This time she stared for quite different reasons, amazed to discover that the purpose here was not so much the selling of a product as it was the artful display of a woman's naked body. The poses were a bit on the extreme side but the accompanying text made it almost seem as though this were a natural expression of the woman's own intent. She was displaying herself in a quite provocative manner that implied very little shame or social stigma, and the ease of her body language conveyed that this was not so much a pose as a kind of liberating statement. She flipped to the next set of pages and came upon a series of photographs that depicted a couple engaged in simulated sexual intercourse. The man was no less idealized than the woman, and the two were going through the motions in such a way as to imply mutual consent, though it was difficult to know for certain whether or not these acts were genuine or merely poses. The text did not provide much in the way of helpful clues but did imply a romantic theme was intended, so Mar-Sa concluded that this was an authentic recreation of male- female intercourse as practiced by Terrans. The third set of explicit photos involved two women engaged in physical copulation. There was quite a lot of easygoing by-play in these photographs and the body language of the two models implied that there was genuine affection in the acts they simulated. Quite a bit of this reminded Mar-Sa rather graphically of the night she and Phoebe had spent in passion, which oddly excited her as she flipped to the next page, realizing at last the provocative nature of the literature that she was scanning. She smiled as she studied the next set of pictorials, each of which focused upon a single girl whose body was on display in a kind of vivid self-statement that said as much about who they thought themselves to be as the accompanying word text. Mar-Sa was amused to note that neither one of these girls was anywhere near as attractive in her private estimate as was Phoebe. The rest of the magazine contained articles on rather mature subject matter, some of it political and social in nature, all of which proved more shocking to her than the photographs themselves. It seemed that the people of Earth indulged in quite vigorous debates of the sort that would never have been permitted in the society that she had come from. To the best of her knowledge no Dome on Wolframa would allow the open discussion of public policy in such a frank and unregulated fashion, nor the disrespectful tone in regards to government authority that was explicit through every line of text. Mar-Sa found herself closing the magazine at last as she looked away with a thoughtful expression, trying to digest the information that she had just absorbed in the space of a minute. "Well?" Phoebe asked her anxiously as though afraid that Mar-Sa would be in some way offended. "Hmm?" Mar-Sa looked at her curiously, then perceived through their growing mental link that Phoebe was afraid that Mar-Sa would reject this magazine because of its explicit sexual content. Mar-Sa glanced back down at the cover and smiled, then showed Phoebe expressly that she was anything but offended. "I like it." Phoebe blinked, "You do?" Mar-Sa had to chuckle at her friend's reaction, "I have never seen anything that was so expressively subversive in my entire life, but in contrast to the rest of Earth culture that I have observed...I find it very refreshing." Phoebe began to release some of the tension she had been feeling and returned her own smile, "That's good...'cause a lot of people think that stuff is just vile and dirty. Katie likes to read it for the articles, or so she says, but I love the pictures. I sometimes get off fantasizing about doing it with one of the girls...maybe even one of the guys if he looks nice enough. I've always dreamed about maybe one day doing it with a living goddess...and now..." "I think that I understand," Mar-Sa smiled, then considered the magazine more carefully before saying, "And how much do they pay these women to be photographed naked?" Phoebe almost fell out of her chair, "Are you serious? But...?" "You were thinking about it," Mar-Sa said almost apologetically, "And I think it may be a very good suggestion. This other magazine..." she indicated the fashion glamour book with a nod before continuing, "Does not seem very honest by contrast, and the articles I read there are of a more generalized nature. Some of it is very practical and useful, but the Playmate magazine has a general tone that I find more appealing. There is also an article devoted to science, which is a field I can quite easily relate to. Obviously the readership here is of a very broad nature and not at all immature. Besides this, the women do seem better proportioned, if a bit too much on the side of physical perfection." Phoebe grinned as she remarked, "You've got them all beat out by a long mile, Marsha." "Exactly," Mar-Sa replied without sounding smug, "Although I can hardly take credit for that. My people have been experimenting with genetic engineering for hundreds of cycles with the intent of eliminating physical imperfection. I am hardly the most perfect specimen from Ninjarma, but if a woman with average looks could pass the standards for beauty on your world..." "You're average?" Phoebe chuckled with a skeptical expression, "I'd like to see what above average looks like, but take it from me, Marsha, they'd pay top dollar for pictures of you. Lots of women get their start doing photos for the prestige Adult magazines and then go on to other careers as models and actresses, or whatever you'd like to do for a living." "I'll be content with just making enough to start out with," Mar-Sa replied, "Perhaps I can find a use for my Engineering skills after all, even if the standards here are so primitive that your people have not yet learned how to subatomically bond metals." "There...is one problem, of course," Phoebe reluctantly mentioned, "Going public like this is bound to draw all sorts of attention." "I know," Mar-Sa said in more subdued tones, "But maybe that could also be a good thing if I can convince your government that I am too high profile to just make disappear. If people knew my story they might be willing to grant me political asylum." "Assuming the government doesn't try to lock you up first," Phoebe cautioned, "Some people think the government knows a lot about extraterrestrial life but won't inform the public because they're afraid it would start a worldwide panic. Personally I just think they're treating us all like children because they're afraid the Fundies would go ballistic..." "Fundies?" Mar-Sa asked. "Fundamentalist Christians," Phoebe replied, "People who think the human race is special because we're supposedly made in God's image. They think the idea of life on other planets is blasphemy because it would mean that Jesus Christ wasn't worshipped on other worlds or some such bullshit. You gotta watch out for those guys, Marsha. Individually they're nice people, just a little naïve. It's when they get in groups that they start burning people at the stake as witches and Satanists." "Oh my," Mar-Sa reacted in horror at the suggestion, "I had no idea that their cult could be so violent." "Remember the wars I was telling you about?" Phoebe said soberly, "Most people these days think the Crusades were a disaster, but these guys want to start them up all over. They live in mortal fear that their God is going to strike them down and hurl them into an afterlife of eternal torment if they let other people live their lives in peace and quiet. It's either their way or the Highway to Hell, and Heaven forbid that anybody has a good time without their blessings." "I will be mindful of this," Mar-Sa said seriously, "I certainly don't wish to offend anyone who might react in such an extreme manner." "Wouldn't make any difference what you do, Marsha," Phoebe warned her, "Your very existence is bound to offend them. Personally I just say they can all go to the Hell they're always wishing on us. You can't go through live avoiding controversy, it finds you everywhere you turn. The best you can do is take a stand and do what you think is right and hope for the best outcome. Anything else just isn't worthy living." "I see," Mar-Sa reflected, sensing the bitterness in Phoebe's voice as though her friend were speaking from direct personal experience, "I can't say that I fully understand, but I will think about it." Phoebe's smile lightened her mood as she nodded to Mar-Sa, "I think you'll do just fine, Marsha, but I still think you ought to consider the Superhero angle. It's a great way to drum up positive public exposure, and when people know that you're for real they're bound to accept you as you are, all but a minority who wouldn't accept you in any case." "Perhaps," Mar-Sa glanced at the comic book again and did consider it for a few seconds before shaking her head with a smile, "But it doesn't seem too likely." "Well, keep it in mind, you never know," Phoebe advised, "Life is funny that way and you can never predict what's gonna happen next...or...is that another of your superpowers?" "I do not think so," Mar-Sa said after careful deliberation, "But...perhaps I can find out later." "Bitchin'," Phoebe grinned, "With all the rest that you can do there's bound to be some kind of job you can find, like maybe be a reporter." "A...reporter?" Mar-Sa blinked, then responded, "One who observes on current events and writes about it for the benefit of others?" "Yeah, but on second thought, scratch that," Phoebe sniffed, "You're no Lois Lane, and you'd look funny wearing glasses." For some reason Mar-Sa found herself smiling at this, though what precisely was the connection to her own life she could not presently determine. "Phoebe...thank you," Mar-Sa said with deep affection. "Oh?" Phoebe asked, "For what?" "For everything," Mar-Sa answered, "For helping me, for being my friend, for teaching me how to enjoy my life, for sharing the pleasures of our bodies. For everything...for just being you." Phoebe warmed to the smile that her new roommate was giving her, feeling the flow of erotic memories as if their thoughts were exposed to one another and there was no true separation between them. Aloud what she said was, "Don't sweat it, Marsha, I should be thanking you just for proving that Angels like you can even exist. Consider this place your own special piece of Heaven..." "Heaven?" Mar-Sa asked, sensing once again a word that was rich with unknown connotations. "Yeah, as opposed to Hell, which is where everybody else in the world can go if they don't learn to accept you for who and what you are," Phoebe insisted, "My home is your Heaven, and I know Katie'll back me up on this when she gets back from her travels. Now, don't go anywhere or do anything to spoil the mood because I just need to pop back into the privy, then we're headed back to bed for another session and you can show me just how happy you are to be on this world as opposed to the one you've left behind forever." "Yes," Mar-Sa agreed with enthusiasm, "Show me more of what this planet has to offer. I am yours to instruct in all the ways you wish to teach me, Phoebe, my love." "That's music to my ears, Angel," Phoebe chuckled, thinking to herself that there was more than one way to define an earthly Heaven... (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.