The Genesis of Mary Jane

Somewhere in a distant galaxy a being awakens. Our strife and unrest are a beacon. Our concerns are its concerns. We are not alone, we never were, we never will be again.

We have company coming.

The marshy earth separates, something taking shape. A lump of pale quivering substance growing higher, seeking a form. The base of this mass splits, resembling legs, their ends stretching towards feet. Lightning cracks the atmosphere on the horizon as the thing sprouts arms, hands, a head perhaps...yes, a head. The entire surface of this thing seems to be contracting, pulsating.

A woman stands nude where the amorphous creature stood before, her head is tilted back, her face to the sky, and her arms are stretched out which lifts her breasts. They glisten, as does the rest of her. She glistens from the effort of her transformation, of her beginning.

Lightning again dances above her. She lowers her gaze. Her thick, red hair hangs in her face, one brilliant green eye completely concealed, the other scarcely visible. Her full lips part, and she speaks.

"Destiny's a bitch."

She steps out of the mud.

#####

The planet Prosperity, on the outskirts of the Milky Way.

A conversation in the cockpit of a small spacecraft heading to dock at Opportunity City, on the aforementioned planet.

The pilot and co-pilot, both male, one large in height and girth, the other shorter than average and rail-thin.

"Have you checked it?" asks the co-pilot.

The pilot sighs his exasperation. "For the last time, yes. If you're so worried, check yourself."

The co-pilot casts a nervous look over his shoulder and answers, "I'd rather not."

In the cargo bay, seven solid feet of lead-lined steel away from the worried co-pilot and the nonchalant pilot, there sits a dimly glowing orb of unknown origin and unknown content.

The ship docks soon thereafter.

#####

She held up a hand, palm out, signaling a stop.

A screech of hot metal sounded as the retros cut the speed of the patrol ship. On the bridge, the viewscreens were full of a nude woman standing quite easily on the hull of the wrecked system-ship they approached. It was a huge vessel, this wreck, and it had obviously seen many torturous voyages. The thing was drifting dead in space with a great gaping hole in its starboard side, drifting just beyond but certainly toward the atmospheric reach of the planet below.

The patrol's captain ordered a shuttle sent to the young lady's rescue. Once inside the cruiser, she was escorted to the medical quarters where the captain and the ship's doctor anxiously awaited her arrival. They each rushed to either side of her to assist her, concern for her well-being their imperative.

"She must be freezing," the captain worried.

"She should be frozen," the doctor corrected.

The captain scowled, irked at the medical officer. "I know that, but she's not. Find out why," he ordered in the voice of authority. "And someone," he addressed the room at large which was rapidly growing crowded with crewmen, "bring the young lady some clothing."

The poor soul nearest the sickbay door was drafted to do so. He sulked and stomped off, muttering all the while that he always missed out on everything.

Meanwhile, the doctor had placed an electro-multi-scope between her breasts. He got a null reading, and he gaped in disbelief at the failing instrument, then thwacked it against the palm of his hand. He tried again, null again. He fiddled with various knobs and dials until she tapped him on the shoulder and smiled.

The mysterious young lady that should have frozen but didn't ran a finger along the nape of her neck, then beneath her left arm, down her left side, over the hip, between her legs, down the inside of her left thigh all the way to the arch of her foot. Every eye in the room tracked the finger's progress, and the room's temperature climbed accordingly.

When she was done, a transparent film fell away from her and came to rest in a heap around her ankles. She stepped out of it and noticed the obvious awe of all those present. "Spacesuit," she explained.

"Like none I've ever seen," the captain marveled. Many heads nodded in compliance.

"Oh," she said with a shrug.

The captain would have pressed the matter, but the doctor interceded by reminding them there was an examination to conduct. He said this pointedly and aimed it at every one of the standers-by crowding his sickbay. No one took the hint.

The doctor conducted his examination of the now unsuited woman, and made several comments about her extreme good health as he did so. He stole a quick glance at the cast-off suit, and remarked, "That's truly remarkable. I don't see any sign of any life-support systems in that thing."

She giggled. "I'm ticklish there."

"Oh, excuse me," he apologized as he moved his hand, then remarked further, "That thing is ultra-thin, too. I don't see how it could have kept you safe from the hazards of space." He finished his examination and said, "But it surely did because you seem to be in fine shape. Er, condition, I should say."

The dispatched crewman returned at precisely that moment with the young lady's intended attire. The doctor stepped aside as the crewman handed it over.

When the captain spotted this offering, he scowled again. "That was the best you could do, Freid?"

Crewman Freid grinned, and nodded vigorously. "Yes sir! Nothing else could be spared, sir!"

The captain's voice of authority returned as he grilled the other man, "You mean to tell me that no one on this ship can spare this poor thing a uniform or...or something?!" He glared at the rags the crewman had fetched back, then directed that same glare at the crewman. "A uniform that doesn't appear to be recently ripped up, perhaps."

"Not a chance," Freid insisted, shaking his head.

(to be continued)