Earth-42: A NEw Beginning

 Earth -42: A new Beginning

Nikita and I were together, alone but together for more than a week. The alien would come, feed us, ask us a few rather simple questions and then leave. I was having trouble making heads or tales of him.

“Okay, my guess is if he wanted us dead we'd be dead right now, so what's his story?”

“I don't know. He's a GREEN Martian.” She said definitively. “If he's lived his life as alone as I have he's lived it for at least 3 times as long. He's forgotten how to trust people, especially humans. Other aliens wouldn't be as hard.”

“That I can understand.” I said glumly.

Three days later the alien came to take me away. He grabbed me by the arm and started to literally drag me out of the room. “No leave him alone!” Nikita cried out.

“You want to die instead?” The man asked her in a threatening voice.

Nikita's voice was low but distinct. “Yes, I do.”

I cannot believe you are actually going to kill him; I do not see this in you. 'Discerner of the motivations and intentions of the heart' is a name for my people. But if you were going to kill one of us, I'd rather it be me than him. If for no other reason than that would make sense!” She turned to look at me. “And obviously there is another reason. Listen I am quite familiar with how ignorant humans can be, especially when they're scared. But I'd think if you were angry at either of us it would be a freak of nature like me, not quite literally the best human I have ever known!”

By this time the alien had released me from his grip and was starring at Nikita with something stronger than curiosity. A sentiment I shared with him. But Nikita wasn't finished. “I seriously cannot understand why you hate him. Hate is reserved for Whites and for the worst of humans. Hank would fit in among White Martians. My word for him translates as 'ignorant, arrogant asshole'. But Whites are...something else. They are Crishnaka-Sareth. Or near enough.”

“You've lived under the Whites?” The alien said in a voice of which I could make nothing.

“I've lived under Hank Henshaw; for more than 15 years. He scared the hell out of me. And if I wasn't so busy being scared of him I'd have laughed in his face. You confuse the hell out of me. And if I wasn't so busy being confused for you, I'd weep for you.” Her voice took on an exasperated edge. “Is there literally any thing else that needs saying?!”Answering her own question, she sat down, tucked her feet behind her and looked away from us.

I looked over at the man, trying to judge if the outburst had hit home. It clearly had done: the man was staring with wide, sad eyes. Staring at me. “I was wrong about you. And I'm sorry.”

That's when I finally realized. “You thought I was...her keeper?”

“I thought she was Enkaren and you were keeping her calm.”

“Demios Pah, Tor-ek Nitch-a.”

“WHAT?!” I exclaimed. “Nikita, what the hell was that?”

“She says I've dishonored the name of my ancestor. And she'd not wrong.”

“Stop it!” Nikita cried out. The green-skinned alien stopped in his tracks. He turned to Nikita with a prompting look. “He's done nothing to deserve this. I would think if anything you'd be after me.”

“Are you saying you'd rather die instead?”

“...Yes.” Nikita answered her voice low but distinct.

“I would rather be killed than let him die. I would think if you'd be angry at either of us it would be a freak of nature like me. Not quite literally the best human I have ever known. So if nothing else at least that would make sense!”

A single look told Nikita the outburst had hit home. The man, the alien, instantly dropped his arm and released her friend. “There was no need for any of this Sajen. There never was, was there?”

“I...I misread the situation.” The alien said as if he were a schoolboy getting dressed down for misbehaving. A feeling that would only deepen as the conversation continued.

“And that's the worst thing about all of this. All you had to do was ask. I would have told you. Hell you're a Martian you could have read my mind. I would have permitted it! How quickly we become the things we hate and we don't even realize it.” Nikita walked to the far end of the room sat on the floor with her feet crossed in front of her and turned her head away from her host. Displaying a universally recognized 'I don't want to talk to you' attitude.

“She's comparing you to Hank Henshaw.” Jeremiah explained. “Someone who treated her like an enemy for absolutely no reason and literally tortured her to convince her to reveal the truth...what ever that was. But there was no truth to be found. She wasn't a danger to anyone. And if Hank had looked at her for 5 seconds and seen anything other than a human-looking alien...he would have seen what was right in front of his face: seen her for the innocent person she was. But Hank didn't bother to look. He actually got off on hurting aliens...even helpless ones like her.”

“And you broke her free.” Realization blanketed the strangers face. Followed quickly by a look of unmitigated shame. “You broke her free from the D.E.O.”

“ I couldn't stand by and let her get tortured for information she didn't actually have. I released her from...well she was propped up for enhanced interrogation and I shut off the device. I knocked Hank out and put him in that chair, which I kept turned off. She asked me if I wanted to come with her. She said I didn't deserve to be trapped in the D.E.O any more than she did. So we made our escape together.” He turned and squarely face the man. “You are the third alien and the 14^th face we have seen in the 8 weeks since that day. And she is quite right. All you had to do was ask. She would have told you anything. Force, much less pain was never needed. And in fact got in the way. I say this with as much experience as she has. She actually literally laughed at Hank for making that assumption. It was the last thing I expected. Making both of you equally blinded by your own prejudicial assumptions as far as she's concerned.”

“And she still didn't stand up for herself. Well, she probably didn't think she could reach me, any more than she could have gotten through to that thick-headed human you keep talking about. But she stood up for you. At least I was right about that part...I guess.”

“Okay, I'm a little lost.”

“Everything that lives has an instinctual fear of dying. But only humans have such a strong sense of self-preservation. Even those who would go out of their way to help and to protect others would still tend to put their own lives and safety first if it came down to it. She's different. She put your safety above her own. She gets a lower grade in self-preservation than she does in protective instincts. Which is unbelievably rare in the galaxies.”

“Well that makes sense” Jeremiah said without thinking. “She told me her race was rare. Not like superior but few and far between. That there literally aren't many of them left.”

Understanding once more blanketed the man's narrow face. “She's Xavallen. That explains it. That explains a lot actually.”

A new use for a great monologue.

Puddleglum's speech in Silver Chair to the Witch of the Northern Woods who had almost convinced them  Narnia or 'overland' wasn't even real in the first place:

"One word, Ma'am," he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. "One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things - trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's a small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say."

He was talking about whether there was anything after you die and if God in Christ...if Christianity was anything more that a children's fantasy. But this is exactly how I feel about the stories on which I was raised. They aren't real but they do matter. And were always more important to me than anything that actually happened in my life or any TV series grounded in the real world. I am who I am because of Power Rangers, the way it was when I was growing up. I have the view of humanity I have because of Star Trek and actually I think so do a lot of other people have learned courage, cooperation and determination in the face of adversity from Star Trek but they are also an example of what we could be as a race. Even if that dream has mostly died out by now. And I learned true heroism and becoming a hero in-spite of circumstance and that those who surround the titular heroes with superpowers are possibly more important and greater heroes than the masked and super-powered individuals themselves from Flash and Arrow. As well as having father figures that aren't actually your father and how team Flash is a family to each-other and anyone who happens by thier path tends to think of team Flash as like a family to them as well -and team Arrow as a place to belong to be better than yourself, live for something more important than just your own little life and to make a difference- but that's unique to those two shows specifically.

As Puddleglum said....the made up things are a good deal more important than the real ones.

Also there is a conversation, a moment really in the Wonderworks production that is not in the book. Because the book which was written in the late 50's at the latest would not have had the action-packed moment in which the prince of Underland actually puts a sword to Eustace and says "Prepare yourself for death" because he had so casually insulted the honor and virtue and the great lady he served. Puddleglum intercedes. 

"He's just a child."

 The Prince swings his sword around "Do you want to die instead?"

 Puddleglum shows true compassion and fortitude and replies perfectly honestly.

"Not especially. But if it's a choice between..me and a child..you'd better kill me."