Mar-Sa The Ultra-Girl Book One/Part Three The Girl of Tungsten Steel A HEROINE IS MADE, NOT BORN by Jim Robert Bader September 4, 2001 (First Copyrights Only) 00000000 000 000 000 vvvvvv 000 000VVVVVVVVVVVV000 000 VVVVVVVVV 000 000 VVVVVVV 000 000 VVVVV 000 000 VVV 000 00000000 Mar-Sa, The Ultra-Girl by Jim Robert Bader Book One/Part Two The Girl of Tungsten Steel Chapter Twenty. The Farmhouse "Well, people, what do you think?" Phoebe rubbed her chin and thought a moment before replying, "I dunno, Katie, seems kind of big, don't you think? And the rent could be a problem..." "Not for me," Katie replied as she surveyed the property that stretched out before them, "I picked this up for a song years ago at government auction. Used to be a family farm before the Feds raided the place and threw the owners in the pokey on a drug bust. Seems they tried to supplement their income by growing a little weed on the side to keep the farm from going into foreclosure." "And they got busted, huh?" Phoebe sniffed, "Bummer." "What type of farming facility was this originally?" Mar-Sa asked as she studied the surrounding area, taking notice of trellises and a nearby glass-enclosed building that might at one time have been used for hydroponics. "Wine grapes," Katie replied, "Used to be a pretty prosperous vineyard, but Napa Valley got hit with a pretty bad drought a while back and it dried up their profits. It's the kind of hard-luck story you hear all the time in these parts, but we can use their bad luck to our advantage. I've been holding onto this place mainly as a tax shelter up 'til now, but with Heather's generous assistance we could turn it into a combination training compound and research facility, which means that, as big as it is, it will have to be expanded." "Expanded?" Mar-Sa asked, studying the two-level compound of multi-roomed chambers that seemed at least five times the size of Katie's apartment, "On Wolframa a complex like this would seem positively spacious. A Council member couldn't command this much personal living area..." "That's enough of that right there," Katie frowned, "Since the moment I met you, Marsha, it's been Wolframa this and back home that and how Ninjarma was so cramped and hard to live in...well, I'm sick of hearing about that. In case you haven't noticed you're on Earth now, so its time you started getting used to that and quit gawking at everything like a goddamned tourist." "I'm sorry," Mar-Sa replied, duly humbled, "It's just that...all of this has been such a great adjustment for me..." "Yeah, we got that," Katie said, "Now get over it. From this day forward you are starting out a brand new life, and that means we build everything from the ground up, including the new additions." "Build?" Phoebe blinked, "Build with what?" "Follow me, Students," Katie announced and proceeded to lead the way from the car that she had driven them in to an area around behind the farm-like compound whereupon they discovered a large pile of building materials had been left there as though for a construction team that had yet to be assembled. "Whoah," Phoebe blinked, "What are they gonna build here? A sporting arena?" "More like an extension to the existing house that will combine bits of Eastern and Western architecture to create a combination gym and Japanese-style dojo. I've already had the plans drawn up and got the permits to build just yesterday, so we can start up right away and make this our new home away from the prying eyes of the big city." "You mean we are to live here?" Mar-Sa asked, growing ever-more intrigued at the prospect. "Catches on quick, don't she?" Katie smirked as she glanced at Phoebe, "You really do know how to pick the cute ones." "Knock it off, Katie," Phoebe said while blushing, "Marsha can't help it if she's still new to all this." "I know," Katie replied, turning to regard the golden skinned alien before saying, "By the way, I've already gone to the trouble of filing for your legal residency under a new name I picked out for you. Any objections to having your last name be Summers?" "Summers?" Mar-Sa asked. "Opposite of Winters," Katie explained, indicating Phoebe, "Summers and Winters, like a pair of bookends. Since you compliment each other I only thought it natural to register you as Marsha Summers. Any problem with that?" Mar-Sa smiled, "No, none at all...in fact, I like that name, and I like the idea that it makes Phoebe and me go together so...poetically." "Heh, I coulda picked that one out for myself," Phoebe beamed, "Summers fits you all right, Marsha...you're warm and big and sunny and fun to play with. So...how soon is our new digs gonna be ready, Katie?" "As soon as we get done building the new attachments," Katie replied. "Huh?" Phoebe blinked, "What do you mean 'we,' paleface?" "I mean you, me and Marsha," Katie smiled, "No sense in wasting good money hiring out contract labor that doesn't know the first thing about Japanese architecture, at least like I do. I've helped build a dojo with my own two hands and now I'm going to teach you two how to do it from the foundations upward. That way we can modify things to fit our expanding needs, like to give you a workshop for building all the neat stuff you've been talking about having, Marsha. I'm sure some of the patents from what you build will more than help to pay for the cost of parts and labor." "Now wait a minute!" Phoebe said, "You expect us to help build our own house?" "It's all right, Phoebe," Mar-Sa said, "I would like to do this." "Mar," Phoebe turned on her, "Ain't you ever heard of the phrase, 'Don't volunteer?'" "It won't be so bad, Phoebe," Mar-Sa assured her beloved friend, "With my powers it should be relatively easy, and I confess that the Engineer in me is eager to learn more about Earth construction methods. After all, you do so much with such primitive materials..." "I'll be happy to hear any suggestions you can make on how to improve things later," Katie said, "But for now we do things my way, and you can consider this as a part of your training. Now, I won't put up with any slacking or complaining out of you, Phoebe, or you won't be given any hot tub privileges..." "Hot tub?" Phoebe blinked, "We're gonna build a hot tub?" "And a full sauna with whirlpool Jacuzzi," Katie answered, "After all, the Japanese believe in training hard before relaxing, and you'll find that nothing sooths tired aches and muscle strain like a good, long soak, followed by a full- body massage with some casual sex on the side..." "Sex?" Phoebe brightened up, hearing her favorite noun be pronounced. "That also comes with the training," Katie said, "The Japanese believe in expanding all of the senses, and with a mind and body awareness like you've both been developing lately, I think you could stand some advanced training in that department." "I would welcome anything that you could show us, Katie," Mar-Sa replied, "I have never been to this Japan of yours, but it does sound like a very...enlightened place." "Not all of it is," Katie sniffed, "Not by a longshot, but the place where I received my training keeps the old traditions alive, so consider yourselves fortunate to have someone like me for your teacher." "I do consider myself fortunate," Mar-Sa replied, turning to study the open space behind the house as if to imagine what labor was in store for her, "So...when do we get started?" "We just did," Katie replied, turning to wave a hand at the pile, "Pick up a log and I'll tell you where to lay it, then we'll measure it out and get it properly sized, shaved and then fitted. We'll need a lot of them if we're gonna make this place strong enough for you to training. And Phoebe...grab a shovel and start digging." "Yes, Mein Fuhrer," Phoebe snorted, earning a wicked glare from her prospective mentor, to which she only stuck her tongue out and made a suggestive gesture that Katie would remember long and hard when the time came for a little creative...payback... "Welcome back from Acapulco, Shepherd," Harry Chapman greeted, "Get any work done on your suntan?" "Funny," Rick snorted as he sat down in front of his editor to make his report, "The trail was cold by the time I got there. Our mystery lady was come and gone, as you well know, leaving a lot of questions behind for the locals." "But you're sure it was her in those sightings?" Harry asked. "Oh yeah," Rick nodded, "It fit her description to a T. Tall, golden skinned, wiry gold hair, built like a brick-house, the whole bit. Funny thing was that she seemed to be having her picture taken around various parts, and by none other than Luigi Cozi..." "You're shitting me," Harry sat upright, "The Model's Model Photog guy?" "One and the same," Rick nodded, "And---get this---he was on the payroll of one of his largest clients, Heather Holberg herself..." "Fuck me!" Harry exclaimed in frank disbelief. "You're not my type," Rick retorted, "And it gets even weirder. Holberg was seen boarding that luxury pleasure palace of hedonism that used to belong to her late dad, the Ambercastle, and she took it out for a few days for some modeling assignment...you getting the picture here, Man?" Harry sat back in his chair, "What in the name of...are you telling me that she's taking pictures of YOUR golden lady? Talk about getting scooped!" "Talk about indecent exposure," Rick said, "I couldn't believe it either, but security was tight all around the port, which makes me think that Holberg bought some people off to insure she had lots of privacy. But...this is where it gets really strange...sometime on the first day after pulling out for open waters there was an emergency broadcast radioing an SOS and claiming they were under attack by some unknown party. They were asking for emergency medical aid...only a few minutes later the request was cancelled and the local rescue people were told to stand down. A few days later the Ambercastle pulls back into the harbor like nothing was the matter, but Holberg orders the ship into dry-dock for some unspecified repairs. You ask me, Harry, it all sounds a little fishy." "And nobody was actually hurt in all this?" Harry asked. "Not so much as a case of Montezuma's Revenge," Rick replied, almost disgusted at the lack of leads he was now facing, "Holberg and her party flew back to the states a couple days later, after a few more photo-sessions around the coastline and at some historical sites, and that's why I even have the few witnesses who'd come forward and describe this 'miraculous golden lady.'" "Miraculous, huh?" Harry looked thoughtful. "She paid a visit to a local medical clinic and started healing people with that 'golden touch' of hers," Rick replied, "After that the natives wanted to build a shrine to her and thought she was a Heavenly angel sent to Earth as a messenger, or something like that. Heck, I can't even blame them for feeling that way, it's pretty much what I feel every time I get in close enough to see this lady in action." "Well, you'd better do some more praying then, Bro," Harry murmured, "Got a word on the wire just a while ago that Holberg is calling a press conference and says she has this really big announcement to make that she swears is gonna blow the minds of the entire scientific community. Gonna devote a whole issue of Cosmos magazine to a double-sized 'breakthrough of the century,' and it's timed to come out the same time as a special issue of Playmate, like the two are part of some two-packaged special." "Playmate...and Cosmos?" Rick blanched, "I'm being double-scooped?" "Sounds to me like Holberg's got herself that exclusive you were so hot to nail," Harry mused, "How the hell do you suppose that a broad like that hooked up with your golden angel?" "How the hell should I know?" Rick sounded depressed, "This whole thing makes no sense at all! From Day One I've been dodging those Men In Black-types and the whole goddamned army trying to track down this angel, but every time I get close something else comes along to block my way! And then there's that other guy running around in that freaky costume..." "Yeah," Harry said, "I can see it's pretty damned frustrating. So...you gonna give up and take another assignment?" "No way," Rick said flatly, "This is my story and I'm not letting it go. I don't care if I have to climb the walls of the Playmate mansion to sneak in, I'm gonna get to the bottom of this, one way or another." "Just don't try sneaking in disguised as a woman," Harry mused, "Seen way too many Sitcoms with that premise..." "You kidding?" Rick said as he stood up, "I'd look stupid in a string bikini. Well, gotta run, left the meter running and all that." "Good hunting, Boy," Harry said as he watched the younger man prepare to take leave of his office, then leaned back in his chair and said, "Just for the record, though...what is your reason for going after this lady? You that hot up for a date?" "No," Rick paused at the door then said, "She stole my car. That makes it personal." With that he turned and headed down the corridor, leaving Harry to smile and say, "Sounds like love at first sight to me, the poor bastard..." Mar-Sa pressed her fingers against the penciled-in spots on the wall and dug her fingers into the wood and plaster to peel away a section of the wall and leave a smoother surface in her wake. She then consulted the diagrams once again before continuing on with her labors, using her hands to shape the wood while employing her Telekinesis to precisely control the molecules of the wood fibers themselves, rendering them malleable and easy to handle. With her great strength she pressed them into the form that was desired, conforming in great detail with the written directions laid out in the diagrams provided to her by Katie. Fusing the wood or separating the layers as was needed, she worked without any other tools to sand and even out surfaces to a degree that would normally have been possible only with high-powered gadgets, and by turns she was rapidly laying out the foundations of the building before erecting the frame of the arching structure itself, moving around the heavy beams with an ease that left her companion all but speechless. Phoebe was becoming more accustomed to seeing Mar-Sa perform such superhuman feats, but still it thrilled her to sense the flow of power that coursed through the perfectly formed body of the statuesque golden alien girl. Compared with her, Phoebe's own labors seemed puny and futile, but still she did her best to uphold her share of the work, employing her lesser strength to assist Mar-Sa where needed while tending to the minor tasks that Katie dictated such as hammering in wooden pegs and fetching minor braces to shore up the joints that Mar-Sa brought together. They had been at it for a while now, working together to raise the dojo into place according to Katie's demanding standards. It was not just that they had to perform this labor using crude building methods (primitive tools in Phoebe's case, and none for Mar-Sa but her own superhuman abilities) but they had to do it in a certain peculiar way, moving their arms and legs in accordance to Katie's precisely worded dictates, and if either of them deviated even slightly from her directions they got a sharp tongue lashing that whipped them back into line so that they resumed their labors to Katie's exacting specifications. Sometime during this period, however, Katie mysteriously took her leave of her two "students," going around to the front of the house and not appearing again for at least a half an hour. But then she just as mysteriously reappeared once again to make a much-welcome announcement. "Time to break, kids," she announced, "I'll bet you're hungry after such hard work, eh?" "Oh yeah!" Phoebe grinned, "I'm starved! What's for lunch?" "Lunch?" Mar-Sa asked as she set down the five hundred-pound beam that she had been about to heft into place, "That does sound good. But did we bring anything to eat? I don't recall loading food in the van along with all that furniture." "I had it catered while you were busy out here," Katie replied, "It's in the house already laid out for you, so anytime you want to eat..." "How about right now?" Mar-Sa suggested, sharing Phoebe's eager enthusiasm though more than a bit curious to know what Earth delicacy she would be sampling this time around. A few minutes later she had her answer, much though Phoebe was non-plussed enough to ask, "Are you kidding me, Katie? What is all this?" "Plain white rice," Katie replied, "I got a full tub of it on account of how much Marsha eats when she gets hungry." "And that's it?" Phoebe blanched, "That's all we're having?" Mar-Sa just stared at what was being served, to say nothing of the manner in which it was being served, sitting with their legs folded underneath them, on the floor with a short-legged table set before them upon which the food was laid out in a strangely elegant manner, and all they had to eat with were ceramic bowls and some rather curious twigs that she heard being referred to as "chopsticks." On the whole this was very different from the method of eating that Mar-Sa had learned from both Mark and Phoebe, but since Katie was the one in authority here she decided to wait and see what was next supposed to happen. "Of course it's not all you're having," Katie held up a pitcher and said, "I also brewed us up some tea to wash it down. Can't just eat rice on a dry mouth, after all. Also there's some bean paste, alfalfa sprouts, lots of nutritious leafy vegetables, some boiled noodles on the side..." "And what about the beef?" Phoebe asked, "Is there any meat to go along with all this hamster food you're serving?" "Snit," Katie chided, "Listen to the spoiled little Yenta, she wants luxuries to go with the basics. Well, tough, I'm not having any of that this time around, young lady. You're going into training now and that means your diet is going to be strictly regimented by yours truly, and that means nothing extravagant or too rich for your blood while you're in training, Student. And if you don't like that, then you can just go hungry." "What the heck?" Phoebe blinked, "When did you suddenly turn into such a drill sergeant, Katie?" "Since I decided that the two of you needed training," Katie replied, "And from now on you're calling me Sensei, and I'm calling you both my Seito." "But you can't expect Marsha to live like that..." Phoebe started to protest, only to sense Mar-Sa dissenting, which prompted her to say, "Marsha?" "It's all right, Phoebe," Mar-Sa assured her, picking up a bowl full of the boiled white grain kernels and sniffing them to discern their flavor, "It smells quite good, and don't forget that I grew up eating food that was a lot less palatable than this back in Ninjarma..." "Enough right there, young lady," Katie cut her off, "I'm glad if you find the rice to your liking since it's what we're going to be having from now on, morning, noon and evening..." "What?" Phoebe was appalled. "And if you keep up like that, Seito," Katie gave her erstwhile roommate a sharp look, "I'll cut out all the condiments and just have you eating the rice. Consider it a favor that I even allow you to eat bean paste, but, as you noted before, Marsha does need to have some variety in her diet, if only to condition her stomach to digesting hard fiber. There's a reason behind everything I'm going to be having you do from now on, and as your Sensei you're just going to have to trust me." "I am certain that you mean what is best...Sensei," Mar-Sa said when she started to pluck a few grains of rice with her fingers. Katie whipped out a pair of chopsticks and intercepted those fingers, "Just a minute, Seito...what do you think you're doing?" "Eh...?" Mar-Sa blinked. "You're not a barbarian, so you won't be eating rice with your fingers at this table," Katie said before reversing the chopsticks and extending the wider ends to Mar-Sa, "Here, take these. Just do like I do, and Phoebe will show you the rest." Mar-Sa looked uncertainly as she took the two flimsy bamboo sticks in either hand, then she turned and saw how Phoebe was holding hers and comprehended at once the principle to their employment. It took her several tries before she got her own fingers in the right position, but before too long she was balancing a few more grains of rice on the ends of her chopsticks, only to look on in frustration as she lost her grip and the kernels fell back into the bowl, leaving her with nothing. "Take your time, it will come to you with practice," Katie urged, already holding her chopsticks in the correct way and making a point to eat slowly so that Mar-Sa would have no trouble following her movements, "Phoebe was even more hopeless when I started teaching her a few years ago, but now she handles them like a pro. From now on you only eat that which you can catch with your chopsticks, and anything you can't grasp gets ignored for the duration. You with me so far?" "Um...I think so," Mar-Sa dubiously answered as she glanced at her chopsticks and then back at the bowl in her other hand, then glancing again at Phoebe, who was calmly eating from her bowl without any discernable trouble. "When you learn how to eat at the dinner table in a civilized manner you will be that much closer to being accepted into the rest of society as a proper lady," Katie informed them in a curiously authoritative manner, "A warrior can be many things, but among the important things you must be civil and graceful, or else what is the point of fighting to defend against great evil? Barbarism comes from not caring at all what sort of impression you create for another through your actions, but if your actions, thoughts and deeds are all in harmony with one another, then people will come to accept you into their group as a welcome credit to their social existence." "Is this like that conformity thing you've been telling me about in Japan, Katie?" Phoebe asked, "The Nail on the head, or something like that?" "Sensei," Katie gently reminded, "And no, this is not about conformity, Seito. This is about behaving like a civilized human being, something all too few people in the west know anything about. It is self-regard and self-reflection, of being an extension of your own nature where you are at one and in harmony with all of your surroundings. Warriors do not choose to fight capriciously but only fight to defend their lives, the lives of another, or their sacred honor, and when you fight it is without remorse, restraint or hesitation. Let your enemies choose you as their target, you will remain true to yourself when facing them, so that they can never take from you those qualities most essential to your existence, your own good name and the belief in your own integrity and potential." "I think I follow you...Sensei," Mar-Sa replied, "You are saying that it is the difference between being civilized and being a barbarian, of being someone who earns respect from others and someone who earns no respect nor cares at all for civilized values." "Yes, exactly!" Katie nodded, "You are a smart one, Seito, I can tell the you'll go far, a lot farther than flaxen-hair over there, who needs a little coaching." "Hey!" Phoebe protested. "Oh, you have potential too," Katie said, "I've always thought so about you, but up until now I've lacked the opportunity to get you into a proper training regimen. Considering what else I've had to do over the years to get you to behave like a proper lady, like when you applied for a job and eventually got hired..." "But I thought this was only about us learning the martial arts, Katie," Phoebe insisted, "Where does all the rest of this come in?" "It comes in the form of a package of closely related disciplines that will combine to make you both into perfect fighting machines," Katie replied, "And thanks to your mental link, the accomplishments of one must necessarily reflect the accomplishments of the others. That's why you're in this together, and why you'll be learning similarly related skills complimenting your individual strength and talents. Don't worry if it doesn't all make sense to you right away. What I'm teaching here is no different from the way I was taught by my Sensei, and until such time as either one of you can beat me in a straight-up fight..." "What about right now?" Phoebe asked, "You may be tough, Katie, but Marsha could wave her hand and knock you flying across the room." "Ah..." Mar-Sa winced slightly, "I've already tried that..." "I see you still need some convincing, Seito," Katie smiled shrewdly, "Well, wait until after we get done constructing the dojo and then I'll show you what real fighting is all about. Now eat, and no talking with your mouths full. Say one more word until we're finished and I'll be sending you both off to bed without your supper." There was some sour reflection in Phoebe's thoughts on that subject but she wisely held her tongue and started eating again, which Mar-Sa noted and did her best to copy. The rice tasted good (if a bit bland by the standards of what she had most recently been eating) but the other foods were more than palatable and quite to her liking. The tea had a bitter quality to it, but it was good enough after a while that she did not notice the tangy flavor. Even so she paused to ask Katie what kind it was and was informed that it was something called "green tea," which was low in caffeine and high in a natural plant extract called Ginseng. At Katie's bidding Mar-Sa ate her fill, which was more than six times the amount of rice that Phoebe wolfed down with no great enthusiasm. Working the chopsticks proved difficult, but Mar-Sa's ability to adapt helped her to adjust to this the more she practiced and soon she had the art down almost as well as Phoebe. The hardest part for her was trying not to break the fragile things since they were mere flimsy twigs between her powerful fingers, but at one point she applied just a little too much pressure and hear them snap in twain, which both startled and embarrassed Mar-Sa as she had allowed herself to become slightly distracted with the mildly erotic thoughts that Phoebe was sending her way. "Don't worry about it," Katie said, "In Japan breaking chopsticks can either be a good sign or a bad one depending on the context. Since they're a one-time- only use item, breaking them at the end of a meal is a sign of approval, like belching. It means you enjoyed the food and want to pay your respects to your hostess." "Oh?" Mar-Sa blinked her very large violet eyes then said, "But...isn't that also considered rather rude behavior in this culture?" "American culture, yeah," Katie replied, "But here in this house we're going to practice Japanese rules and Japanese culture...that means no shoes in the house, we bow and act polite and announce ourselves when we enter a room, and we'll even practice a few Japanese words to teach you about cultural nuances that took me years to master." "Here we go," Phoebe rolled her eyes, "You're going all Samurai on me again, Katie." "Sensei," Katie corrected, "And for the duration you'll call me Katie-SAMA if you address me by name at all. I'm both your elder and your teacher and that entitles me to respect, and if I address you individually by name it will either be as San or Chan, the former a respectful honorific, the latter an affectionate term usually employed either by close companions or by children. In your case, Phoebe-chan, both terms apply, but for Marsha-chan..." Hey!" Phoebe bridled. "No need to be territorial," Katie informed her, "It's just that, with her in the picture, we'll probably be more chan than san here." "Ha-ha, very funny," Phoebe snorted. "In any event," Katie resumed, "You'll study under the Japanese method because that's the system I learned growing up. It may seem odd, even baffling to you at first, but in time it should become second nature, at least as much a part of you as what you absorbed from that Daniels guy. And the overall aim is to teach you to integrate and refine your control over mind and body to make of you a perfect warrior, which also means a better human being." "How does one affect the other?" Mar-Sa asked. "That's what you have to learn," Katie replied, "And figuring it out is just one of the challenges that's ahead of you, such as finishing up your work building our dojo so we have a proper place to train in. Now, once we finish cleaning up in here we'll get back to work with both your building and your training, and in time I think you'll see it all makes perfect sense to a heightened level of thinking." "I will try and keep that in mind," Mar-Sa replied, "My fate is in your hands, Katie...I mean...Sensei." "Our fate is in our own hands, Seito," Katie replied, "But you'll figure that out when the real training begins in earnest..." "Enter," the voice directed Dev-Or, and the Security officer complied as he stepped past the threshold into the dimly illuminated chamber. "You summoned me, Sir?" Dev-Or asked as he assumed a ready stance and saluted his superior, who was presently seated behind a research station console. Kas-Par swiveled on his floater chair to regard the younger officer and said, "What is the news concerning Councilor Dar-Kem's present condition?" "Stable, Sir," Dev-Or replied, "The Neuro-Techs assure us that he is merely suffering from a mild form of stress and will be able to resume his duties just as soon as they get done tinkering around with his head." Kas-Par regarded the younger man levelly before asking his next question, "You are close to the Councilor?" "He sponsored me to the academy, Sir," Dev-Or replied, pausing to add, "It is...difficult for me to see him like that, and I hope for his swift recovery." "As do we all," Kas-Par replied, giving the other man a harder look, "I need to know if I can rely upon you. Do your loyalties to the Councilor conflict with your loyalties to the state?" "Sir?" Dev-Or was clearly confused by the question, "I should think that the one equates to the other..." "In most respects they do," Kas-Par replied, leaning forward, "But recent developments have called his priorities into question, which is why I need to know how deep your loyalty to Dar-Kem extends. As a sworn agent of the Security forces you are loyal either to him or to Ninjarma. So...which is it to be? I have to know before I can determine that you are to be trusted." "Sir!" Dev-Or stiffened his resolve, "I stand loyal to Ninjarma, ready to give my life for our people, if need be." "That is what I want to hear," Kas-Par said, "Because it has come to my attention that not all who serve Ninjarma do so without hesitation." "I...don't follow you, Sir," Dev-Or asked, wondering where this was leading. Was he being put to some kind of a test? Had he done something to cost the trust of his superiors? Or was there some manner of intrigue afoot here, and was he about to become embroiled in the sort of political in-fighting that Ninjarma was rife with in these troubled times, with two factions contending for dominance, as occurred far too often among those who served the High Council. "Forget politics for a moment," Kas-Par waved a hand at the console station before him, making a pass with his fingers over empty air and calling up an image that formed in clear holographic detail, which in turn was adjusted automatically to suit Dev-Or's angle of viewing. Kas-par waited to see that he had the younger man's full attention before saying, "You recognize this individual, do you not?" "But of course, Sir," Dev-Or replied, "It is former Councilor Kar-Tor, the rebel..." "Incorrect," Kas-Par informed him, "This is a historical archive from over five hundred cycles ago, dating back to the time before the Great Disaster. His name is Ge-Rod-Kar-Tor, a Cabinet Officer serving the High Speaker of the time, a man named Nom-Ru-Ve. He was also a man of aristocratic lineage and some great influence at the time, both a scientist and a major industrialist in the service of the Old Federation. He is reputed to have passed on approximately four- hundred-eighty-three cycles ago. This is a very rare image recorded of him that has been preserved under deep security within the Council archives." "Incredible," Dev-Or admitted, "He is the very image of the rebel..." "Now, view this and tell me if you see a further resemblance," Kas-Par called up another image, this time of a man dressed in primitively rustic clothing and holding some manner of crude weapon in one hand that resembled something called a "Fire-Arm" that Dev-Or remembered hearing about in a lecture concerning one of his memory downloads. "In old military parlance he was known as Force Commander Jo-Han-Kar-Tor," Kas- Par revealed, "Commander of the Third Division of the Vergin province during the time of the Slave Uprisings..." "He is...the image of the other man," Dev-Or blinked, "There is not a hair on his head or his face that is any different..." "You noticed this, eh?" Kas-Par sounded amused, "Modern age Ninjarmans do not have facial hair. The gene for it has been carefully weeded out of our matrix over the generations of careful selective breeding, but Kar-Tor has always been different in that regard. He has a beard, which others of our society do not. You will also notice that his complexion is a different shade of bronze rather than the healthy lacquer color of modern-age Ayalans. Even after more than eight hundred cycles this single feature about him has not changed, though in recent times he has learned to disguise his differences far better than in the old pre-industrial era..." "But...how is this possible?" Dev-Or asked, "No man could live so long unaltered!" "No ordinary man," Kas-Par agreed, "But Kar-Tor is the exception. The record goes on much farther than this, but these are the strongest visual markers that can be used to dramatize the point. Kar-Tor is an Immortal, this is a fact incontrovertible. Just how he can achieve his undying state is a mystery, but the fact of his resistance to time and wear cannot be doubted. Indeed, the Council records make it very plain that he is the very same Kar-Tor who features in a thousand different legends." "The scholar of Rohan...the teacher of She-La?" Dev-Or shook his head, "No...such a thing is not scientifically possible. The longest a man can live..." "Is less than two hundred and fifty cycles under present medical technology," Kas-Par replied, "Anything beyond that and you are talking about Cryonic preservation." "But...I don't understand..." Dev-Or admitted with a bewildered expression. "You are not alone in that, I assure you," Kas-Par replied, "The point that I am making here is that the High Council has known about Kar-Tor's stubborn refusal to die and yet welcomed him into their midst and even gave him a seat upon the High Council. The real question behind this is...why?" "To...keep him where he could be observed as needed?" Dev-Or hesitantly answered. "And why do you say that?" Kas-Par asked, studying his subordinate with a curiously intense expression. "Because I would not imagine that they would want someone like that to operate too freely and would rather keep him where they could hold him under close examination," Dev-Or answered. "Very good," Kas-Par smiled, "You are thinking like a member of the Council now. I can see that you have had excellent indoctrination." "Sir," Dev-Or said, "I would never presume..." "I never said that you were presuming," Kas-Par said evenly, "But your thinking closely parallels that of the Council itself, those few who are in the know about the real details concerning his life, which I have just made available to you as a part of my own research." "I can see that this is...disturbing information," Dev-Or replied, "And the Council would be...understandably reluctant to make this common knowledge, but..." "You want the real reason why the Council has kept this hidden unto themselves," Kas-Par averred, "And my studies have determined that the answer to this is the Keepers." "The Keepers?" Dev-Or blinked, "They really do exist?" "You tell me," Kas-Par said evenly, "Since, according to my references, your mentor, Dar-Kem, is a member of that order." "You are certain of this?" Dev-Or asked, not bothering to hide his surprise. "Quite certain," Kas-Par nodded, "And that is why Dar-Kem was so intent on capturing and punishing the rebel, Mar-Sa. Her continued existence on another world is a threat to his beliefs and the very purpose for which the Keepers have for so long existed." "The belief that life as we know it is impossible beyond our world?" Dev-Or repeated. "And that we must never venture forth to test this hypothesis," Kas-Par further noted, "A belief reinforced during the earliest days of the exploration of our solar system, when it was discovered that our astronauts grew sick and died the farther off into deep space that they ventured. It would seem, however, that our ancestors were premature in concluding that interstellar travel is impossible for this reason...and now at last we finally know what they could not have imagined, the reason why this world has always been our prison." "Which is?" Dev-Or asked. "Biosolar radiation," Kas-Par replied, "That life-giving energy that permeates our world and gives us life and vitality. The closer we come to our sun the greater the concentrations we are exposed to, whereas the farther we travel away from our sun..." "The weaker the Bioenergy available to us," Dev-Or concluded, thinking this over, "So the only way to travel conventionally..." "Would be to keep a source of Bioenergy always close at hand," Kas-Par smiled at the younger man, "Unless, of course, one were to bypass the distance between worlds and appear within a system that has far more Biosolar energy from a younger, more energetic sun...and that is what we have in the case of the new world that Kar-Tor discovered, a world the natives call...Earth, or Terra. Most extraordinary...a world slightly smaller than our own yet possessed of all the abundant elements of life that our world is sorely lacking. More importantly, fossil evidence in the scans we took indicated that life has been there for many billions of cycles, an unfathomable length of time given that seventy thousand cycles is the farthest extent that life could be found upon our own planet." Dev-Or stared in amazement at his subordinate, "Are you saying that this world...could be the homeworld of ancient legend?" "That is one possibility," Kas-Par replied, "The Council is currently debating that speculation, which means that the natives of this world are distantly related to ourselves but lack our enhanced ancestral modifications. It also means, in light of what we discovered when our probe attempted to capture the rebel, that a citizen of our world has extraordinary advantages heretofore undreamed of due to the intensive Biosolar radiation of their sun. We do not yet comprehend the full nature and extent of these abilities, but their existence opens up a realm of possibilities that are most extraordinary." "I cannot imagine it to be otherwise, Sir," Dev-Or replied, "Even beyond the level of secrecy that the Council has imposed upon these matters, word is being conveyed at lower channels that a new world has been discovered, and a means to reach it has revealed a place where even a low-level Tech might aspire to something...beyond all description." "Then allow me to show you directly," Kas-Par passed his hand over the console once again, calling up the image of a naked Mar-Sa doing battle with the probe, and he looked on with some amusement as the younger man reacted with a start upon seeing a Ninjarman female both flying and NAKED. Dev-Or was silent until after the visual recordings were completed, at which point he managed to say, "These...are accurate?" "Extremely," Kas-Par assured him, "Sensor readings recorded at the time confirm that the subject's Bio-readings were quite literally off the scale and that this was not the product of any artifice or technological device upon her person. Apprenticed Technician Mar-Sa was indeed managing to accomplish these feats utilizing her own internal powers, and once we analyze and determine precisely how this power operates we will then begin using this knowledge for our own ends...by training an agent to be deployed into the field in order to confront and defeat the rebel on a more equitable level." "Sir?" Dev-Or said, "I was given to understand that the agent selected for this task..." "Is none other than my son, Kas-Trol," Kas-Par did not smile as he said this, "He is in your unit, I believe. What can you tell me about him?" "Ah...well, Sir," Dev-Or chose his words carefully, "He is an excellent security agent and has high marks in all of his professional skills, near first in his class at the academy..." "I know all of that from his official records," Kas-Par said testily, "But I want your personal evaluation of his character, not his performance." "His...character?" Dev-Or hesitated. "His behavior, his personality, the way others regard him," Kas-Par said encouragingly, "Be honest, give me your impressions, is he the sort of man that others in your unit tend to look up to?" "Ah," Dev-Or once more hesitated, "Actually...Kas-Trol...is something of a lone element in our unit. He carries his weight on a patrol and knows his duties as well as anyone, but as for others looking towards him for leadership...I fear that he is still not quite...mature enough in that capacity, Commander." Kas-Par sighed, "I feared as much. I have not, sadly, been able to do much for him since he was chosen for the security forces. I have never shown him much favor, nor have I been able to devote much time to serving as a mentor. I fear that he has had to learn on his own without a patron..." "Commander," Dev-Or said carefully, "I do not mean to imply that your son lacks in either integrity or courage, and it is a great honor that the Council has chosen him to be their representative..." "Do not talk to me about great honor in this, Lieutenant," Kas-Par replied, "This mission entails both risk and opportunity, and I dare say that others of your unit would willingly volunteer if they knew what was in store for them, but since you are here to answer to me in regards to what other elements may be involved in this investigation, I will require that you maintain a clear mind and a level perspective. I want to know if you can be trusted with the Council's secrets since matters here could well affect the very survival of our race. You know as well as anyone the danger posed by the depletion of our resources, coming as you do from the former North Quadrant community of Kantor..." Despite himself Dev-Or looked down, memories of a sector where he had grown up and no longer was due to decisions laid down by the Council struck home with unexpected potency. He forced himself to say, "The decision...to close down the sector...was a correct one, Commander. However..." "Hard to know that the place that you once called home no longer exists," Kas- Par grimly mused, "And that many of the people who once lived there have since been...reassigned to other Quadrants." No words were spoken for the next several seconds as both men were fully privy to the hollow mockery of the term, "Reassignment." Kantor, like many other communities before it, had been deemed "superfluous" by the Council Evaluation team, which had then recommended its closure and reallocation of resources, some of them being human in origin but deemed "superfluous" themselves and thus easily recycled. No one knew exactly what was done with the people assigned the label "Non-essential," and fewer still even wanted to know since no one ever saw them again, though everyone was certain that the subsequent increase in food stores was closely linked to these incidents. And all because resources were deemed as more essential than human life itself, a hard fact to endure when those judged "unnecessary" were friends and relatives that you dimly recalled from your earliest recollections. Such shortages were becoming more frequent, and if the Council continued to make such ruthless sacrifices then it was certain before too long that the population of Ninjarma would collapse to a few elite Council members and their closest retainers. All of this flowed through a young man's mind in the space that it took for him to arrive at a decision. Knowing that his superior was waiting to hear his resolution, and knowing also that his own continued survival was closely linked to which way he chose to act in the next several seconds, Dev-Or found it a surprisingly easy decision to make as he lifted his eyes and said, "What do you require of me...Sir?" Kas-Par's smile held neither warmth nor satisfaction, but there was grim acceptance of a mutual recognition, so he nodded and said, "Good men such as you are rare these days. I need other good men if you happen to know any. Patriots, not just soldiers. Men who believe that some sacrifices are necessary, while others...are anything but superfluous. Am I being clear enough for you...Lieutenant?" "Yessir," Dev-Or found himself surprisingly relaxed as he said this, "Very. In fact...I believe that I do know of other...Patriots...who feel the same way we do." "Then I will interview them individually," Kas-Par noted, "And sound them out for their views concerning the future that awaits Ninjarma. Much planning will be needed, and to fail...could mean extinction. But to leave matters as they are, with the fate of our race hanging in the balance..." "Yes sir," Dev-Or noted, realizing as he said this that they were putting something into motion whose ultimate end could mean only death from failure if they were discovered by the Council. Success, however, might mean something more than any of them had dared to dream about in the last ten generations, a word no longer even in circulation, whose meaning was all but forgotten even to Kas-Par. A word named Hope, which could only come about if certain "old men" were put out of the way of their objectives, a decision some might label treason but which Dev-Or now knew to be the their only chance to survive as a civilization and a people. Kas-Par knew this more than any other, which was why failure could not be allowed, and why he would put it all together with great care and deliberation, and let the Keepers beware for there was now a legitimate threat to their reign that would one day achieve what even She-La failed to accomplish: true freedom for all the people of Wolframa. ...And if any got in the path of that dream, then they would be dealt with, whether Councilor, rebel or exile, even one made superhuman by the very power that promised them such miraculous salvation, not even one whose image disturbed Kas-Par far more than the dour security chief could account, given certain long- buried memories of his, of another like her who had come before yet who never had been truly forgotten... For comments and criticisms contact me at: shadowmane@ridgenet.net X Page 138 of 138 Mar-Sa, the Ultra Girl Book One/Part Three By Jim Robert Bader Chapters 20-27 First Copyrights Only -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 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.