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-Five. Theology Lessons "In one of the saddest developments of modern recorded history, a stranger from another world came to us in the spirit of friendship, displaying only the good faith of her intentions, and we, barbarians that we are, drove her away because the message that she came to deliver to us does not meet up with our primitive view of ourselves as the center of all creation..." Rick wanted to hit the delete key, to erase the words as he might tear up a sheet of paper, but he was overdue to meet his deadline and he could not afford to start his article all over from the beginning. Instead he leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling while trying to calm down from his anger so that he could compose his thoughts in some kind of coherent order. He ran his hands over his face and counted to ten backwards, but nothing useful came of this as he just kept reliving the moment over and over again in his mind, wanting to delete the whole event and pretend that it had never happened. "Deadline nerves, Rick?" asked Steve Kendall, the sports writer, who had come over to offer a cup of coffee in a comradely manner, "Harry'll have a fit if you don't have that done by at least sunset." "I know," Rick sighed as he accepted the peace offering and sniffed at the coffee brew before wincing slightly, then taking a sip anyway as the idea of torturing himself actually seemed rather appealing, "It's just...sometimes I think this country is going the way of the Taliban, know what I mean?" "I hear that," Steve nodded enthusiastically, "So...is it true the rumor that's been going around? Did you really beard that Schiller guy in the park today? Wish I could have seen that..." "I wish it had been you instead of me," Rick replied, "The guy's a walking nightmare, Adolph Hitler with a Bible. The stuff I've heard about him...it's a wonder he's even walking the streets a free man today. I'm just glad he's allergic to giving interviews or that thing in the park could have turned into a full riot." "Would have made good news if it had," Steve noted, waving his own coffee mug to illustrate the point, "Promising junior investigative reporter trampled to death by mob at outdoor revivalism concert. You gotta admit, it would have got you the page one, column one headline." "Yeah," Rick snorted, "That kind of free publicity I don't need. Maybe Harry's right about me being a little too close to this story..." "Bullshit," Steve said, "You've got the inside lead on the story of the century. Hell with that, the millennium! Golden girl steals car from reporter, love at first theft. Gotta admit, it's got real human interest value..." "Glad you find it so amusing," Rick replied, "Me, I just chalk it up as another dead end in a case that's been full of wrong turns and frustrations." "So," Steve mused, "What's the secret? How did you know what to say to send the good reverend running?" "Oh, it was nothing much," Rick replied, "I did research on him a few months back when I was looking into the Paramilitary phenomenon...did you know that the guy has his own private army of wackos? They train out in the foothills of Oregon and Montana using live ammunition and preaching a diatribe of real hate against the Jews, Catholics, Liberals and Media types, meaning us. They talk about the Apocalypse as if it were a real and coming event, and they swear when it happens that they're gonna turn loose their flock of faithful gun-toting nuts to take out all the 'Enemies of the Lord' that they can find, starting with Abortion doctors, educators, lawyers and Freemasons..." "All that in one swoop?" Steve said, "And won't the Feds do anything about it?" "They don't expect the government to be a problem," Rick explained, "When the Rapture of the Saved hits they expect millions of people to just up and disappear from their jobs, which will leave those behind shaking their heads in bewilderment and confusion. Society as we know it will disintegrate and anarchy will take the place of the Federal government, which is where they get to go on a shooting rampage so they can impose 'God's Kingdom' on the surviving faithful..." "How many faithful could there be if the lucky ones get grabbed up into heaven?" Steve wondered. "Hey, I didn't say it was a logical philosophy, or that it even makes sense to an outsider like me," Rick replied, "But it makes Schiller a very dangerous man with soldiers who'd be willing to go out and die for a cause just like any Arab terrorist group, and just as fanatical in their beliefs. Of course Schiller himself doesn't exactly live a life of austerity and denial, and that left a paper trail a mile wide that's currently under investigation." "So this whole publicity stunt of his...?" Steve began. "Was nothing more than an attempt to draw fresh funds to his cause to pay off his legal expenses," Rick replied, "Of course the way he thinks---and I use the term loosely---he probably does see Mar-Sa as a legitimate threat to his franchise since her very existence contradicts a good deal of his dogma." "Man, I hate mixing it up with these Holy Roller types," Steve winced, "You give 'em an inch and they walk all over you, you stand up to them and you get accused of being anti-religion. No way to win an argument with those guys, and all you do is wind up getting yourself in a lawsuit..." "Tell me about it," Rick sighed as he closed down the file and reached for his coat, "I gotta get out of here, blow off some steam for a bit. Cover for me, and if Harry asks where I am..." "You're out doing research for your big story, got it," Steve replied, watching his co-worker take his leave of the bull pen before adding, "Glad I don't have his job. All I gotta put up with is overpaid athletes who get a little too ass- slappy...that and seven-foot goddesses with a football fetish..." he sniffed, glancing over at his desk and thinking about the latest wire story on that topic... "I'm really sorry about that, Heather," Fiona apologized, "It was my team that dropped the ball here. We should have known that Schiller or one of the other Fundies would try something like this, but we didn't screen the audience enough to pick them up in this crowd." Heather stared out the window of her San Francisco office and sighed a bit before saying, "It's all right, I don't blame you for this. It's just...we all went to a lot of trouble to set this up and we should have seen that something like this was bound to happen." "How could you?" Katie snorted, "I didn't see it coming either, and I'm trained to expect the unexpected." "Yeah," Cathy replied, "But you didn't just blow over two million dollars, plus licensing fees and televised advertising. The show we were about to put on was supposed to run for a full hour..." "It's not the money that worries me," Heather sighed, "Our insurance carriers will provide an adequate compensation for our losses. It's the shame of losing out to that...Pig and his Sheep. I feel as though I have been violated, as if a primitive tribe of savage Witch Finders broke up a peace rally demanding blood sacrifices for atonement..." "Uh oh," Cathy winced, "I hate it when you get biblical on me, Boss. Granted a horde of screaming mongrels would have behaved better than that lot, but the real impact here is what effect this is gonna have upon poor Marsha." "Yes," mused the woman known as Astarte from where she sat next to her body- guard companion, a hulking brute of a man whose handsome features and robust frame made him seem almost like a Greek God dressed up in a chauffeur's uniform, and packing enough hardware to start some serious trouble, "That is the effect that should most concern us seeing as she is quite clearly inexperienced in dealing with fanaticism and extremism of the religious sort, even given the facts about her background. This blow to both her reputation and her ego must seem quite devastating considering the benevolence that she has so far demonstrated before the public." "Indeed," Heather sighed, "I have often wondered how I might explain to a visitor from another world the mindset of people to whom the middle ages would be viewed as 'the good old days,' as though it were a distinguishing mark of our civilization to beat your chest with sackcloth and ashes..." "Don't be so hard on yourself, Heather-san," Katie urged, "You can't blame yourself for not seeing that Schiller creep coming after Marsha..." "I blame myself for not preparing her," Heather replied, "I am used to dealing with self-righteous charlatans like Schiller, and I also should have anticipated how the conservative community itself would react in denial when presented the clear evidence of her existence. After all, such men view the world through the prism of their own provincial beliefs, and to shock them with the reality of life on other worlds, life where the name Jesus has never been spoken, must appear to them as most traumatic concept demanding immediate refutation. Considering how worked up they still get over the teaching of the Theory of Evolution..." "Yeah," Cathy said, "Life on other worlds might appeal to us science geeks and Sci-Fi buffs, but to guys still living in the Stone Age hearing about people on the other side of the hill must be a real threat to their whole world-view. Small wonder we never got that far with space travel having jerks like that thump their collective chests over nothing..." "Nothing to you, perhaps," Astarte replied, "But to them it means everything, and when you have a very narrow world view that does not permit the existence of a differing opinion, let alone one that stands opposed to their entire philosophy on life, it becomes a desperate struggle to maintain your beliefs against the pull of reason that draws one in the opposite direction." "Sounds to me like you've got your own take about this," Katie noted with a hint of suspicion. "I have had more than my share of run-ins with the likes of Schiller and his ilk," Astarte replied, "It comes with the territory when you have a rather...unique condition such as mine. At any rate, it is not just the effect of this primitive tribalism upon Mar-Sa that should be considered, one must also take into account the other casualty who shares her mindset." The woman with the dark sun glasses nodded towards Phoebe, who was also sitting by the window staring out into the distance, her manner listless and her posture lacking the normal energy so typical of the cocky free spirit that she normally came across as. The blonde girl's mind was clearly far away from their conversation and it was doubtful if she had even heard a word being spoken in her presence. "Poor Phoebe," Cathy said, "What it must be like for her, seeing the woman she loves being tormented by a flame-throwing fanatic..." "Indeed," Heather murmured softly, "But added to that are the deep emotional and psychic bond shared by the two of them, which makes the pain of one deeply felt by the other." "Yes," Astarte mused, glancing up at her bodyguard and saying, "Philippe here could tell you a thing or two on that subject, and we all have had occasions when the suffering of a loved one has bitten us deeply. I can well sympathize with the plight of Ms. Winters...however, sitting around and moping about it is neither my style, nor does it serve any useful, viable function." "So, what do you propose?" Katie asked. "Indulge me a bit, Ms. Cross," Astarte inclined her head politely, "I do believe that I may offer your student some valuable insight into what it means to be treated as an outsider. You see...I, too, have been shunned as a pariah due to the nature of my heritage and appearance, and I know exactly what the prejudice she faces feels like. Indeed, feeling is often all that I have, my most trusted of companions, and alienation can be a source of comfort as well as grief, knowing that I bear a unique legacy that entitles me to a certain degree of status here. Therefore I will seek to commune with your Mar-Sa in the hopes that my situation could offer to her a fresh perspective." "Oh yeah?" Katie sat forward and scowled, "And what exactly is it that makes you so special, Jones?" "Ma Cheri," the hulking Philippe began to say as if in warning. "It is all right, Philippe," Astarte assured her bodyguard, "Ms. Cross is entitled to know, nor would I wish to keep from her such a vital bit of knowledge that would help her to see from what angle I am coming here." And with that the strange redheaded woman removed both her hat and her glasses and smiled as she turned to face Katie. There was a small gasp from around the room, for the pale white eyes that gazed back upon them had no pupil and no iris, just milky whites framed by an unusually heavy set of lashes with her brow ridges forming into a pair of arching antennae, the effect giving the woman's face a decidedly unearthly appearance. "You see?" Astarte acknowledged their startled expressions, "Your friend, Mar- Sa, is far from the only alien currently residing upon this planet. In point of fact, I am but half-human on my mother's side, but the other half...is something altogether otherworldly..." It was a fairly common cliche in his profession, returning to the scene of the crime, yet Rick had found time and again that it worked when trying to organize one's thoughts and gain a fresh perspective. By reviewing old data he could sometimes perceive something that he had missed the first time around, and when giving himself more time to think he could often arrive at the most surprising epiphanies, allowing him to view a story from the advantage of time and distance. He glanced around at the now-deserted Hyde park and took notice of the strewn trash and trampled grass that surrounded the partially dismantled soundstage, and as he stared upon this he replayed the events all over in his mind, trying to decide if there were something he might have done that could have changed the eventual outcome, as though discovering such a clever tact might have helped him to reverse the calamitous present. "Wishful thinking," he snorted, feeling the disgust and outrage curdling up from within him at the mess created by Schiller and his hangers-on. The event had not just ended badly, it had turned into a total disaster and most likely had tarnished the reputation of his golden goddess forever. People would think back on this event for decades and only remember that the Ultra-Girl had been driven off scared by a rabble-rousing bigot and his bullhorn, which was some way to behave when you were a superhero. He heaved a sigh and started to wonder if there really was any hope for humanity. He had never felt ashamed of being a mortal before, but when he thought about that loud-mouthed crusader he had a violent urge to do something really nasty. Trust a clown like that to bring out the worst that was in humanity, and while Rick had affirmed his own faith that such evil men could be driven away by the light of truth (as uncovered by an investigative journalist) the victory still went to Schiller for achieving his objective and driving a goddess into self-imposed exile. Which, in effect, meant driving away the message she brought, and the truth that she symbolized and embodied. Once more the Luddites had torn down the monuments to civilization, the barbarians had destroyed the symbols of enlightenment that they hated with such passion and the savage had won out over reason. Never mind that Mar-Sa represented an unknown branch of humanity from whom mere Terrans might learn a great deal to their advantage, one could not risk contaminating the soul with tawdry thoughts about life on other worlds, let alone a mere girl who could do things in a way that redefined godhood. It made sense in a way that Schiller would fear and resent such a person, but to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had defeated a goddess... "And what would you have done different?" a voice asked, startling Rick out of his aimless meditations. "Um," Rick turned around and saw a stranger sitting on a nearby park bench, a blonde of some sort, not too attractive but hardly unattractive either, and his automatic response was, "Excuse me?" The blonde looked up at him as if startled, "Oh? Ah...never mind...just thinking aloud...sorry..." Rick frowned as he stared at this stranger, sensing that there was something not quite right in her appearance, but he could not quite put his finger on the matter, so instead he looked away and said, "That's funny, because for a second there it was like you were reading my mind or something..." "Um...excuse me?" she asked with a hesitant expression. "Oh, never mind," Rick sighed, "I just meant that I was thinking to myself about what a stupid waste it was to let a creep like Schiller get away with what he did..." "Oh...yes...I saw you earlier," the blonde replied, "You spoke out against him...I think he was even a little bit afraid of you. How did you do that?" "Hey, nothing makes scum like that run like the truth," Rick replied, "Besides, I'm a reporter, and I'm used to having people take a hike when I'm in their presence." "Oh, yes," the blonde said without much reaction, "I suppose that does make sense, though I think the man was simply confused, either that or insane. You heard the things he said to...um...her...up on that stage?" Rick turned to give the blonde a quiet stare before nodding, "Yeah, I heard it all, like I've heard a hundred thousand other guys just like him preach their perverted faith to the ignorant masses. What about it?" "It's just..." the blonde hesitated before saying, "Why do people such as him walk around looking to cause such hurt in other people? What could I...she...have done to him that would make him act like that?" "Who knows?" Rick shrugged, "His momma probably dropped him on the head when he was little..." "Oh?" the blonde remarked as if thinking that remark over, "Oh...I see...yes, that could potentially do it..." Something in that statement caused Rick to stare more critically at this stranger, realizing that the thing that seemed so irregular about her was that her appearance had edges, as though he was not quite seeing the real her through a curious haze that was affecting his vision. Sensing that to ask too close on this matter might be to spoil the moment---and potentially drive away a genuine information source---he said in a casual way, "If you wanna know what makes guys like Schiller tick, you've gotta do something really, really scary, which is to go into their twisted little heads and study the warped gray matter that passes for their brains. And even then you won't get to the real heart of it, but from where I stand, they create themselves, or life creates them, or they find something that they mislabel as religion and it gives their life a badly-needed focus...well, sort of." "A focus," the blonde seemed to consider the word, then she looked up at Rick again and asked, "Tell me...what thought runs through your mind when you think of the word religion?" The question faintly surprised Rick as it sounded both sincere and naively worded, but he decided to treat her petition seriously enough so he looked away and said, "For me? A church, a bunch of people all gathered around praying, some guy in a chaplain's gown giving a speech about God and the Bible...which is pretty much what most people think about when you say the word religion. Some of it's spiritually uplifting, like belief that there's some guy somewhere who honestly gives a damn about us and who'll forgive us no matter what our transgressions..." "And yet you don't feel like that," the woman said softly, "Do you?" Rick wondered if the woman could read his mind or something, or maybe he was just a little too transparent in his cynicism, "Lady...I've seen a lot of stuff in my time. I've been to parts of the world where the crusades are still a going concern, and in the Balkans I've seen a priest get murdered in his own cathedral, along with part of his congregation, just because somebody else thinks he belongs to the wrong type of religion. I've seen guys quoting both the Koran and the Bible to justify atrocities that you'd think no sane people would ever think of committing, and two groups allegedly worshipping the same god go at it like bad relations...and you know what? God didn't do anything to stop them. No major miracles, no parting of the waters, no voice from above telling them to knock it off and stop acting like spoiled children. Not even a fiery 'Play Nice' burned into clay tablets so they get the message loud and clear. Of course they're not really fighting about religion over there, it's just an excuse to rationalize killing people so you can take their property and land for yourself..." "How awful," the woman said, "Why do they fight like that if they believe in a common set of values?" "Well, that's just it," Rick replied, "They don't really share the same values, and deep down where it counts neither side is willing to admit to the humanity of the other. They'd rather see their differences as a reason to divide themselves rather than unite over a common religion. Much of the struggle is ethnic and historical, but that's also just another cheap rationalization for doing bad things to perfectly ordinary people." "I don't understand this at all," the blonde admitted, "I thought religion was supposed to offer hope to people..." "For most people it does," Rick replied, "But try telling that to a nine-year- old kid who gets shot dead by a sniper. I've looked into the eyes of the dead and you can see that a vital spark is missing from them, like you only see the husk after death, not the soul of the person that they were when they were still very much alive. I've searched for years to find some answers about why a just and merciful God would allow things like that to happen, and after a while I got tired to hearing the same old tired excuses recited over and over...about God's will being beyond our understanding, of our having free will and being free to make bad choices. The dead don't get to make any choices, they're just dead, and the living are often just acting out a script written for them by madmen who don't know any better. They don't get any choices either, it's all been decided for them in advance and they're just going through the motions like good little robots..." "You sound so bitter," the blonde softly noted, "Is there nothing positive to you about religion?" "Oh, sure," Rick replied, "I'm just giving the bad examples. I've also met Buddhists, Jews, Catholics and Muslims who are all good and decent people, and I've been welcomed with friendly arms into Mosques, Synagogues and Temples, so I know first hand what religion means to a majority of the faithful." "Then why are you so troubled by it all?" the blonde asked. "I guess because I'm basically a doubting Thomas at heart," Rick replied, "I want to see where the nail wounds got hammered, I want to know why people fill their minds with hate while claiming to represent a God of peace and infinite justice. I'm way beyond the Sunday school religion that they taught back when I was little, moving from base to base like I did with my father. I know pretty much what it means to have your faith be tested and to wrestle with my conscience and all that, but...well...basically I can't believe in the same things I used to anymore. I can't quite swallow the idea of a God who's simultaneously all-good, all-powerful and all-wise..." "And why not?" Mar-Sa asked. "Well, think about it," Rick urged, "If a god were all powerful and all wise, it would mean that he knew everything at every moment of the day throughout the entire cosmos 24/7. He'd know if someone were dong something bad and be able to do something about it, but if he holds back from taking action that's the same thing as allowing bad things to happen. How then can he be all-good? I've heard plenty of guys answer that one with the standard pat explanation, 'It's God's Will,' but I can't believe that after seeing the kind of suffering that I have. No God who's basically benevolent could want or permit stuff like that to happen." "The concept does not make sense to me either," the blonde replied, "Especially the Omniscient part. To be truly all-knowing would take a mind capable of multi-tasking on a level that would exceed the finest computer ever imagined by a factor of ten to the ninetieth power. It's a given fact that no computer can be completely self-aware about every aspect of its own design and function...too much core processing time would be consumed just analyzing the reams of essentially useless data..." "You're a computer expert?" Rick asked. "Ah..." the blonde seemed momentarily off-balance, "...Somewhat. Actually...I am an Engineer by trade..." "Oh," Rick smiled, "You sound a little like an engineer. Of course most Engineers I've known have a pretty mechanistic view of the universe..." "It comes from having the same mindset, I suppose," the blonde admitted, "So...you no longer accept the idea of a God of universal truth and justice?" "Not the way He was described to me when I was a kid," Rick replied, "I mean...I've looked into the eyes of sincere believers and heard they tell me how God could reach out his hand and stop the world in its orbit for an entire day just so a man and his followers could win a major battle...I mean, can you imagine what that would be like to stop an entire planet in its orbit and halt the inertia of every rock, tree and pebble so they don't all go flying off into space? And then to set everything back in motion again so that astronomers could still chart the course of the stars and planets to the Nth degree? And what about all the other astronomers in the world who never reported seeing anything like that happen, the world standing still and all that? After a while you figure out it's just a story, a stupid exaggeration that was probably told by some camel-herder around a campfire to impress his buddies. It got written down as truth and accepted as canon a long time after anyone would be alive to contradict the argument, so today you get people who really do believe that the God whom they worship is that powerful, and logical explanations to the contrary be damned..." "I cannot say that I understand this myself," the Blonde remarked, "But I was given to understand that the purpose of religion was to be spiritually uplifting..." "The only uplifting about a guy like Schiller is what he does to your wallet," Rick countered, "When I was researching about him and his cult I came across a lot of disturbing facts that didn't exactly jibe with his claims to being a man of the cloth. Priests are supposed to put the spiritual welfare of their followers above their own personal egos, but this guy takes self-aggrandizement to a whole new level, and he's not alone in that regard. Lots of preachers on Pray TV are like that, especially that Godsend guy, the one Schiller's promoted like a son and heir for his televangelist program, the 600 club..." "Godsend?" the blonde repeated with an uplifted eyebrow. "His real name's Geoffrey Taylor, and he's a piece of work, let me tell you," Rick shook his head in dismay, "He typifies a phenomenon called Rapture Syndrome. It's the ability to mesmerize an audience with fiery speeches about hellfire and brimstone, stuff too graphic for normal Sunday school sermons. He gets down to the visceral emotions of an audience and starts playing around with their prejudices and latent preconceptions, works his way under the radar of normal skepticism and starts playing around with your head until you can no longer tell what's right or wrong anymore, and then he convinces you that his way is right and that you are a miserable sinner for never having seen this before. A victim is then made to feel guilty and remorseful about every little bad thing that they may or may not have done in their lives, and that leaves them open and vulnerable to the rapture of conversion." "It sounds rather like a form of mind control," the blonde remarked with a faintly appalled expression. "Oh, it is," Rick nodded his head sadly, "I've seen a lot of really decent and basically honorable people get hooked in on that line, and before too long they act like mindless robots parroting the line of bull that Taylor feeds them. Before too long he can convince them of anything, and I swear the guy seems to actually feed on their worshipful adulation. He's like a vampire wearing the cloth or something, and it doesn't matter how many times he says the name Jesus, I swear that guy is downright evil!" "How do you mean?" the blonde asked with a curious expression. "I mean the way he calls for people to take arms against their own government and rise up in revolt against the 'Secular Humanists'---a term Fundies invented to describe anyone who's not 100% with them on every subject," Rick said passionately, "He's actually been quoted as saying that murdering doctors at abortion clinics is the Lord's Will, or something like that. And don't even get me started about what he says about prayer in the classrooms, homosexuality, the teaching of evolution and the establishment of an official state religion..." "He does sound very...disturbed," the blonde remarked, "Can't the authorities here do anything about him?" "Unfortunately they've got an army of lawyers ready to defend them against any and all legal claims you hurl against them," Rick said in disgust, "Which is funny since he often puts down lawyers who defend poor and minority clients in his sermons. I mean...Jesus said a lot of things, but he was mostly into helping the poor and teaching people to tolerate one another regardless of their diversity. We're all supposed to be equals under the same system, but Taylor turns all that on its head and preaches a kind of social Darwinism where the rich and the powerful are the favored of God, while the poor are trampled underfoot because they're lazy, spineless, stupid and morally inferior. That's a specialty of Schiller's, by the way, preaching that wealth is a sign of God's favor and poverty a token of God's indifference." "How monstrous," the blonde averred, "How can people believe such nonsense?" "God only knows," Rick shook his head at the irony of his own statement, "But that's also why I stopped being a practicing Baptist. The church I grew up in may say a lot about how God works mysteriously behind the scenes to make things right, but if he's doing that then he's taking his own sweet time about getting even with slanderous pretenders like Schiller and Taylor. I know a lot of what makes these guys popular is the basic doubt and confusion about life that a lot of people have, like the world is going to Hell in a handbasket on a daily basis, and when somebody provides a simple, straightforward and direct answer for all of society's ills it can be damned tempting to follow him, just like the Germans followed Hitler." "I see," the blonde looked at the man curiously, "And yet you would still defend the right of these men to preach whatever they like to the public?" "Hey, it's still a free country," Rick shrugged, "And like it or not, free speech is better than censorship...and that's not just me talking like a reporter. I just wish more people would take the time to educate themselves instead of falling into Schiller's trap of thinking that the only way to get on God's good side is to scapegoat other people. Guys like him swear up and down that God's on their side...must make God wonder if anybody's really on His side since the people Schiller opposes are just as passionate about their own convictions." "But how can you tell if one religion is closer to the truth than another?" the blonde wondered. "That's just it," Rick said, "You can't. How can anyone claim their religion is better than that of anyone else? Did God tell them it was so? And if he did, then why doesn't he come down off his throne and tell us plain which sect of Christianity, Islam or Judaism he really favors?" "I really can't say that I understand any of this," the blonde said sadly, "I am a scientist, I was trained to believe in that which I can test, demonstrate and prove in a laboratory. I've been forced to confront issues that make me doubt whether that approach alone is the only true way, but...what you are describing sounds like the very antithesis of science..." "Revealed faith is Dogmatic, no doubt about that," Rick turned a curious look towards the blonde, "Excuse me for asking this...but exactly where are you from? I mean...no offense, but you do sound kind of..." "Naive?" the blonde half-smiled with a note of sadness, "I suppose that I am. I lived a very sheltered life growing up, and it left me poorly prepared for dealing with these issues." Now Rick was more intrigued than ever, and he started to fully turn around saying, "That's kind of interesting, lady, but I was going to say Midwestern. By the way, I don't think I caught your name. I'm Rick Shepherd, and you?" There was a startled look in her violet-colored eyes, and then she glanced away before saying, "I'm...Marsha." "Marsha," Rick repeated, thinking to himself, **No way...** "I'm afraid that it is," she stood up to her full height and then Rick became aware that she was several inches taller than he was, and even as he looked her "Plain Jane" disguise melted away to reveal the glistening form of his golden- hued goddess, "Thank you for speaking with me. I found it very...enlightening. I must go now, but...I do hope that we will meet again, Mister Shepherd. You are a very interesting man, and your thoughts are very...comforting. Also...I am sorry about the car...Phoebe and I never meant you any inconvenience." She started to turn away when Rick managed to croak out, "Don't go...!" "I must," Mar-Sa glanced towards the horizon, "My powers diminish to less than half their potency at night...something about the Bioenergy being absorbed into your world's planetary body. We will speak again sometime, but for now...I must return to my friends." With that she took off into the air and started to drift away towards the city skyline, moving like a graceful bird through the air, while Rick found his knees had turned to jello and he could not risk moving as he was certain that he would fall over with a mere push. It took him some minutes to get the power of speech back once again, and then he managed to say, "Sonuvabitch! I think I've just been had but good..." Another pause gave him time to get the rest of his thoughts back on line, at which point he looked up again and said, "Good luck, Angel...you're gonna need it..." "She's coming!" Phoebe declared, the first words that she had uttered in the last several hours. "Who with?" Katie asked automatically before getting a curious look in her own eyes, at which point she declared, "Marsha?" "Mar-Sa?" Heather more accurately pronounced. "Ah," Astarte nodded in comprehension, "The prodigal returns. That is very good timing." "Uh," Cathy looked nervously around, "Shouldn't we open a window or something? I mean, don't superheroes usually fly in through windows or bust through walls or something?" "No problem," Phoebe turned around, "Marsha's already in the building." "Oh?" the man named Philippe asked, "And how do you know this, ma Cheri?" "Easy," Phoebe smiled, "I felt her picking the lock to the door on the roof. She's coming down the stairs right now since she can use them quicker than the elevator." "How very considerate," Astarte mused with a note of irony in her unearthly voice, "If only all those with paranormal gifts were as thoughtful about property values." "Would save a lot on repair bills," Philippe duly noted. Moments later Mar-Sa stepped into the room, nodding apologetically towards Heather before saying, "I'm sorry I took off like that, everyone. I had to sort some things out, but I feel much better now." "So where did you go?" Katie asked. "Back to the park," Mar-Sa explained, "Where I met a nice man who helped me to put my thoughts back into coherent order." "A nice...man?" Phoebe said rather archly. "Ah...yes," Mar-Sa said sheepishly with a glance at her beloved, only to double- take when she saw the redheaded Astarte rising smoothly up from her chair to extend a hand in her direction. "Forgive me for not taking the time to introduce myself before," the redhead noted, "I am Astarte Amanda Jones, and I hope that you will accept my hand in friendship as I would like to be your ally." "My...ally...?" Mar-Sa said as she looked at the elegant hand then at the woman herself, startled to discover someone nearly as tall as herself yet possessing such unusual features as white eyes lacking irises and a pair of arching antennae. "Forgive my appearance," the woman replied in that oddly quavering voice, reaching for her hat and sunglasses, "I am not usually this forward on a first time encounter. As Philippe would attest, I do try to employ a certain level of discretion in my meetings, but given the unusual nature of recent events..." "Ah...yes," Mar-Sa bowed to the redhead in Japanese fashion before straightening out again and saying, "Forgive my curiosity, but...your eyes..." "Yes," the woman smiled as she redonned her hat and sunglasses, "As I was just explaining to your Sensei, I share with you a rather...unique status of being something of an outsider. Unlike you, however, the place that I once called home is in another dimension..." "Another...dimension?" Mar-Sa replied. "Liaspar," Astarte waved a hand towards the door and said, "Would you care to take a walk with me? I know that you must have many questions, and I find it more relaxing to be casual this way. Philippe, wait here, we will only be a few moments." "Whatever you say, Cheri," the big, handsome man replied with his distinctly Cajun accent, and once again Mar-Sa was a bit startled to discover that he even had a couple of inches over her and was rather solidly built for a human. She could also tell that he was packing several handguns, a mini-machine gun, a shotgun, several grenades and some bladed weapons, both swords and knives, concealed upon his person, suggesting that he was ready for trouble, and yet he had an entirely relaxed and overall friendly manner. Mar-Sa spared a glance towards Katie and Phoebe, but seeing as they had no objections she nodded to Cathy and Heather before following Astarte out of the office. Once alone with the curious redhead she found herself matching paces with her stride as they slowly moved down a corridor past the offices belonging to Playmate enterprises, neither one of them in any particular hurry as they each seemed to be sensing the other one out in a silent moment of mutual appraisal. As though by silent consent they wound up in an indoor garden area at the center of the complex, a beautiful and relaxing spot with lush plantlife giving off a comforting atmosphere with exotic flowers growing on well-tended trellises giving a pleasant sense of color to the overall soothing arrangement. Mar-Sa very much liked this place and thought it was an excellent spot for meditation since Heather's nearly all-female staff liked to relax here during break time. Then Astarte spoke again in that voice that was like honey and thunder rolled over a voice box, "You asked about my eyes, and yes, they are entirely natural for me. I am an Alar`ien, a type of demi-human native to Liaspar, though the proper term for me would actually be Shueriken, which means 'Half-breed' in my father's language..." "Your father?" Mar-Sa asked with lifted eyebrows. "Lord Asteroth," Astarte replied with a heavy sigh, "The bane of my existence. My mother was human, but I am what humans would term a type of Daemon, a Succubus..." "Succubus?" Mar-Sa repeated. "A demon who lives upon sexual energy," Astarte replied, "Much as you thrive on Bioenergy. I sustain myself by having sexual relations with humans, but I never deliberately harm an innocent mortal. I only take what I need and no more than this...it is the quintessential essence of my own personal honor code and what distinguishes me from the rest of my people." "You're a demon," Mar-Sa found herself caught between skepticism and dismay, "Like...out of Hell?" "Not as Christians would define the term, no," Astarte countered, "But I suppose you could refer to Liaspar as a kind of Hell in that my father rules it with absolute authority and has done so for many thousands of years. I am in rebellion against his dominion...but that is neither here nor there. I did not come to speak about myself and my own problems, Mar-Sa, but rather to address myself to your own rather awkward situation." "You mean about Schiller?" Mar-Sa sighed. "A curious individual," Astarte remarked, "He does my father's works a credit, or would do so if I suspected that they had a connection. Any time that I encounter a man who claims to speak for a just and enlightened god, yet hear him preach hate and intolerance to those who are different, I am inclined to wonder if they are not devils in disguise. One certainly cannot find much distinction between their creed and the dictates of my father." "I...don't quite understand," Mar-Sa admitted. "No reason why you should," Astarte replied, "But consider me living proof that there is at least a kernel of truth behind the web of lives that have been spun by theologians on the subject of demonology, but...if you prefer a rational explanation, then consider my kind as Para-Dimensional life-forms, beings who have co-existed alongside humanity for ages and are at the basis of a good deal of the lore about demons." "You mean...like another type of alien," Mar-Sa caught on. "If you like, yes," Astarte replied, "Demons have walked this world in the shadows for countless millennia, some affecting the destiny of human society, others ruthlessly taking advantage of the mythology of various cultures to conduct our affairs without social restraint or civilized compunctions." "And which kind are you?" Mar-Sa asked. "The kind who believes that human beings should be embraced as brothers and sisters of a less god," Astarte answered, "A defender of humanity, though by my very existence the good Reverend Schiller would cast me into the role of a paragon of evil." "I can't believe that he said so many hurtful things about me," Mar-Sa blurted out, "It was like he was trying to drive me away, accusing me of being all sorts of things that I don't even begin to understand..." "Whore of Babylon," Astarte quipped, "Jezebel, Temptress, Harlot...that sort of thing?" "Exactly," Mar-Sa nodded. "Indeed," Astarte sounded amused, "Those terms would better describe me than they do you, and since I am a demoness, I would say that I feel more than a little bit insulted." "Ah...I guess," Mar-Sa sheepishly admitted. "Do not apologize for feeling awkward, my friend," Astarte urged, "I am used to far worse insults than this, but as there is little point in returning evil for evil, I prefer to put myself above such criticisms as it is delivered by mindless drones who lack a sense of irony and anything approaching a balanced perspective." "You sound...much nicer than he was," Mar-Sa admitted. "I pride myself on being the antithesis of my father in a great many senses of the word," Astarte noted, "And if I seem to behave with better restraint than some who call themselves Christians, then so be it. I do not pretend to be any paragon of virtue myself, and, in all honesty, I have done many things during my life for which I am deeply ashamed, mainly as I did them in the name of my own personal survival..." "Yes," Mar-Sa glanced down, "I...kind of know what that feels like..." Astarte gave a pleasant chuckle then added, "What a pair we make you and I...exiles from our respective homelands, yet embodying the best and worst that is in humanity. And still each of us is condemned by those who would judge us for nothing more than the places of our origin. You being a child of a distant star and myself...the product of an unsanctified union between demon and human." "Why do people like Schiller hate us so?" Mar-Sa asked, "I can't believe that I've done anything that would justify his anger..." "By merely existing you are an affront to his beliefs," Astarte replied, "Conservative Christianity has been in at war against science and modern civilization going back to the time of Copernicus, if not considerably further back even than that. Revealed truths do not bend so much to scientific analysis as they do to the wishes of those who desperately cling to the illusion of an enlightened past that never was. The entire history of Monotheism is littered with the corpses of those who have tried to reconcile faith and reason at their most extreme edges, and it is the very fear of compromise itself that fuels their hatreds." "But if they don't want to believe that I'm from another planet then I'm not about to force them..." Mar-Sa began to say, only to see Astarte hold up a hand to assuage her outburst. "You do not have to do anything more aggressive than to save a single life with your power while not giving thanks to Jesus Christ and his chosen Apostles. That is where you challenge their authority, by being true to yourself and not conforming at all to their prejudices. The fact that others now see in you an inspiring figure of transcendent humanity makes of you an even greater challenge to the allegiance of the faithful, and if others become enraptured of the possibilities inherent in humanity itself then they may see less of a need for priests to arbitrate between themselves and their godhood..." "But I don't claim to be a god," Mar-Sa protested, "I don't even really know what a god is..." "Consider yourself fortunate, then, that you do not have to live with one under the same rooftop," Astarte replied with a puzzling smile that hinted of faint exasperation, "It matters not what you believe yourself to be, others will see you as both Goddess and Angel and claim that you are a heavenly messenger, while others will decry you and insist that you are a base pretender using the powers of Hell itself to confuse and delude the faithful. Believe me, I know exactly how exasperating that can be at times, though by no means do men like Schiller and Taylor represent the mainstream of organized religion." "But that's crazy!" Mar-Sa insisted. "You are expecting a contrary argument from me?" the redheaded woman quipped, "In truth theirs is a religion of the mad, where people are exhorted to donate vast sums of money on the promise of eternity, as if they can buy the favor of their God and bask forever in the glow of life eternal..." "But if what they're offering is false doctrine..." Mar-Sa started to say. "Can you prove that it is?" Astarte countered, "To date no one has returned from the dead to demand their money back for false advertising. In truth I have a very jaded view of such men and their activities, petty thievery and fraudulence meant to hoodwink the gullible seem like trivial crimes when compared to the misdeeds of my father...and yet still I am moved to outrage at the injustice of their claims. Sadly, we must tolerate even the viewpoints of those whom we personally despise since there is no one among us who is so wise and all-knowing that we can say with authority what is and is not the truth about religion." "And what do you have to say about religion?" Mar-Sa asked. "That religion, by definition, is the Ultimate Concern of all sentient beings," Astarte replied, "That everyone in some way carries within them a belief in a higher power, whether you call it Science or The Great Mysterious Creator. I dare say your people most probably had a rich cultural history that was full of belief in mysticism. In truth there are no real Atheists in the world, there are merely those who doubt or deny the work of an invisible hand in the creation, which in itself constitutes a form of belief since there is no rational way of proving that the universe is totally devoid of a higher purpose." "But what do you believe, ah...Miss Jones was it?" Mar-Sa asked. "All me Astarte," the other woman replied, "And what I believe is that there are many Gods who all share in aspect the nature of a True God who rules over all. I simply believe that the Universe is too vast and complex for one intelligent mind to govern everything, and yet, as an Occultist, I must believe that the various powers that do govern the universe have an intelligence that can be appealed to through prayer and invocation. That is the essential problem with Monotheism, though...a Polytheist such as I am can accept the existence of other worlds and other gods, but a Monotheist cannot ultimately tolerate the idea that there is a power outside the dominion of his or her own religion. It must be one way or no way at all to such dualistic thinking, and from that it is a small step to argue that He who is not with me is against me. If you really want to know what I believe, though...I would say that all organized religions fall somewhat short in the end of achieving a pure and universal understanding. Only individuals can know a personal union with the divine, and for that reason religion must be a personal affair, not governed by a creed set down by a committee or a union." "I...suppose that I can go along with that, Miss...um...Astarte," Mar-Sa said somewhat awkwardly, "But...still...what am I to do about Schiller if he tries to come at me like that again?" "Ordinarily I would caution you to do nothing," Astarte explained, "Giving him a forum to air his distorted views just elevates the man above his station. However...he has challenged you directly and caused you to lose face before the general public. Such a thing cannot be easily ignored nor forgiven. You must decide for yourself how you will address yourself to the problem that he poses for you, and you must act decisively if you are to change the tone of the debate. The longer this goes on the more Schiller will be able to grow in stature claiming vindication for his extremist views..." "And what would you expect me to do about it?" Mar-Sa asked. "I cannot advise you on that," Astarte replied, "However...I would recommend that you turn his own weapons against him and expose him for the fraud that he is." Mar-Sa blinked, "Um...excuse me?" Astarte pulled something out of her jacket and handed it over to Mar-Sa, "Read this...it should give you the answers that you seek." Mar-Sa stared at the object that she had just been handed then said, "The Holy Bible?" "No better weapon has yet been devised for overcoming the false faith of the fanatic," Astarte nodded, "The Bible is a mass of self-contradictory information cribbed together over many generations from a variety of different sources, and yet it tells a very interesting, if not terribly historical, story about the evolution of an idea whose time has yet to fully arrive. Men like Schiller only claim to have read this book to gain the inspiration for their extremist views, but as you will discover for yourself, he is self-delusional as many of his favorite pet notions are simply not to be found anywhere within the Bible." Mar-Sa turned the pages and began speed-reading through the text, at once making a discovery that she reported to Astarte, "This reads different from the Bible that Katie has in her collection..." "There are, to date, over fifty different versions of that book currently in existence," Astarte replied, "And no two versions are entirely the same in exact wording. This volume contains the Apocrypha, for example, which is left out of the King James version. In that section you will find the book of Enoch which, I believe, you will find to be very interesting indeed. Go ahead and borrow it, then bring it back to me when you are finished." "Why not in another few minutes?" Mar-Sa asked as she rapidly leafed through the pages of the cross, "As long as this is, I ought to be able to digest this easily..." "Good luck," Astarte replied, "Though I imagine it would taste a little dry at first." "Actually," Mar-Sa said sheepishly as she continued to flip through the pages, "I meant that I could be done with reading this in a matter of minutes..." "But would you understand it as well if you simply memorized the text while speed reading?" Astarte countered, "Slow it down and take your time to digest it, as the book itself says, pause and reflect. Do this and then we will talk again, say...this time tomorrow?" "All right then," Mar-Sa nodded, closing the book and smiling at the redhead, "Where and when should I meet you?" "Hyde Park, around sunrise," Astarte replied, "And I may even bring a friend or two along to help give you a greater perspective." "I'll have to clear it with Katie..." Mar-Sa started to say, only to see the gentle smile of the other woman. "No need," Astarte replied, "I have already obtained her permission. You are to be the guests of Heather Holberg for the night, and come the morning...we will talk at length about the future." "Sounds great," Mar-Sa smiled, "And thank you." "No, my friend," Astarte enigmatically replied, "Thank you for trusting in me. I do hope that this will be the beginning of a mutually beneficial friendship as I find you...interesting company." "I guess the same goes for you then," Mar-Sa replied, holding up the Bible, "And I will read this, but I'll probably also borrow a few books from Heather's own library to cross-reference as source material." "Spoken as a true seeker of wisdom," Astarte bowed, then she spoke into her wristwatch and said, "Philippe, we are leaving. Meet me downstairs at the Limo, and inform Illyra that I will be at home in time for supper." "You got it, Boss lady," came the tiny reply from the watch's receiver. "Um," Mar-Sa hesitated before saying, "Philippe's your bodyguard? Are you in some kind of danger?" "My entire life has been about living under the shadow of danger," Astarte replied, "But you need not fear, I am well equipped to look after myself, and I have the best...protection that money and influence can buy. But that is for another time, and until then I bid you...a good evening." With that the statuesque redhead took her leave of Mar-Sa, the latter watching her go and feeling a curious liking for the self-professed demoness, quite apart from the sense that the two of them shared a great deal in common. She glanced down at the book in her hands once again and murmured softly to herself, "I wonder what Kar-Tor would make of all this. Gods and Demons..." she sighed in a tone midway between wonder and exasperation... 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.