ORIGINS: A KIM POSSIBLE JOURNEY FROM THE FUTURE TO THE PAST

CHAPTER ONE
"KIM"

It's just past midnight. We climb up the side of a hill overlooking the corporate headquarters of Global Justice Industries. What was I thinking, I ask myself for the umpteenth time.

"Look at that place. It makes Fort Knox look like a MacDonald's playground," Ron says, shaking his head. "You really know how to protect some place from alien invasions, KP…Ouch! Watch the elbows, little sister san."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," I tell him. In addition to the titanium pillboxes armed with laser cannons around the perimeter, the grounds are booby-trapped with variations of Dr. Drakken's old Diablo robots—triggered by a matrix of visual, thermal, and ground pressure alarms. Breaking into the GJ HQ is virtual suicide, as Shego unfortunately found out several months ago. Searchlights brighten the grounds for hundreds of yards beyond the razor sharp barbed wire fences.

"So how are we getting inside?" Ron persists.

"No big. Follow me." Hannah sticks her tongue out at Ron. We hike our way down a trail.

"What's up with you, KP? You're almost…giddy."

"Giddy?"

"Like old Kim."

"So now I'm old?"

"No, I mean like…"

I hear Hannah giggle behind us.

"See? That's what I'm saying, you and Han are acting weird lately, like you're mind-reading each other or something."

"Welcome to my world, ESP Boy." I reach for his hand and squeeze it. There are still some issues we need to resolve, but I feel, somehow, things will be OK between Ron and me.

"Cut it out already. You're acting like we're on a date or something."

"So what if I just want to spend some quality time with my Best Friend Boy Friend?"

"OK, first off, we're spending quality time together…so we can blow up this stupid building and become the two most hated," he hears an ahem, "make that the three most hated people by every teenager in America after we destroy their latest P-Pod toys. Second, get your head in the game, Kim. I'm serious. Geez, you haven't called me that since…" His voice trails off as he stares ahead…but he's still holding my hand. Booyah!

"Don't worry, Ron. My head's in the game, more than it's ever been in a long time. When this sitch is all over, we need to talk."

He frowns—Ron doesn't like my "talks." Lately, I can't blame him. "No, not that kind. This kind…" I just squeeze his hand harder. I remember a certain night, another save the world sitch when he was just a goofy eccentric boy with his naked mole rat—out there, in here. He's changed, yet I'm still the same old Kim, oblivious to what's been in front of me all along…as Hannah reminded me recently. What a fool I was, pushing him away.

How strange—all my life I've been a public hero, and now, not quite vilified yet, but clearly the news media is confused. GJ is suspicious…no, more than that. She knows it's me, us, Team Possible once again. But for the time being, they can't prove anything, not with Shego convalescing at the ranch house and maintaining the ruse of my staying at home as her caretaker, with the help of Wade Load's old holograph program.

The dense forest ends at a small clearing in front of an old abandoned mine shaft. "Have we been here before?" Ron asks.

"I discovered it about twenty years ago." I walk inside a few feet and knock away several old boards, revealing a steel door. I take out an enormous key, unlock the door, and step into a tunnel of reinforced steel and concrete. "This," I tell Ron and Hannah, "will lead us directly into the GJ headquarters building." Ron looks puzzled, but Hannah nods with approval. "When Dr. Director hired me to design a security system to protect her new office building over the remains of her brother's old lair, I didn't trust her. Call it residual weirder alertness. I remembered this old mine shaft, and asked Tim and Jim to use part of it to build a tunnel under the nose of GJ, just in case someone wanted to get inside without being noticed." It's almost laughably simple—no electronics—no one would ever suspect.

After half an hour of walking, I open a door into a men's bathroom. "OK, Hannah, you're setting the thermo-explosives around the nano-robotic chip generators. Ron, you're downloading Wade's espionage super virus. Between the two of you, the manufacturing of the Psyche Pods should come to a permanent standstill. I have an appointment with Dr. Betty Director, but she doesn't know it yet. Rendevous back here at 0200. Any questions?"

"As long as we're in the men's room, you know, do you mind if I…"

"TMI, Ron." I roll my eyes.

"Just messin' with ya, KP. Nice having you back…BFGF." Ron kisses me lightly on the lips before he and Hannah vanish.

I make my way to Dr. Director's office, bypassing her own internal security checkpoints with the help of Wade's fake iris contacts and fingerprint gloves. I enter the code for her office—the door opens.

"Come in, Ms. Possible. I've been expecting you. Please, sit down."

"It's over, Betty. The Lorwardians are not going to dupe us into complacency. And these Psyche Pods devices of theirs will soon be inoperable. The Lorwardians won't make us helpless now while they plot another invasion."

"You fool! Our only hope was fighting back with the very technology you and your husband and that crazy ninja girl have been destroying with such efficiency. The Lorwardians didn't invent the Psyche Pods—we did. We could have developed a unified Earth army. You might have doomed us all, Ms. Possible."

"Might have?" I ask.

"And you, Ms. Possible, through your naïve ramblings about the dangers of the 'peace treaty,' actually helped feed the public paranoia. People still trusted you. I couldn't have dreamed of a more perfect setup."

"Glad I could be of assistance. But not anymore."

"My brother Sheldon was right about one thing. In order to motivate people towards a utopia, one must first create a scapegoat, something to fear. All that remained was creating an incident to incite the earth's population. They would willingly do anything with the help of the Psyche Pods to build a perfect world order, with the guidance of Global Justice Industries, of course."

"I've heard that one too many times, though not so insidiously and euphemistically put. Drakken simply called it 'world domination.' Again, what's with the might have?" I repeat.

"We've been holding their leader, a spy, as a hostage. When we agreed to an exchange of technology, they lied to us, sending us nothing of value. But with our technology, the Lorwardians will no longer be a threat. Let's just say they will reap what they have sown." She laughs maniacally at her own inside joke.

"There's one more thing I learned from my brother." She pushes a button on her desk, and metal bands snap around my arms and legs, strapping me to the chair. Damn! I'm such an idiot.

"I added a few personal features to my office, inspired by my brother, Sheldon. While I held the Lorwardians at bay, your husband and that ninja assistant of his have been destroying my legacy. You are going to pay, Ms. Possible." She looks insane.

"Before you doom us, I want one last remaining pleasure of knowing you died getting ripped to pieces by a very angry Lorwardian."

The chair suddenly falls down a gut-churning acrylic chute; I think I hear Ron yelling, "Kiiim!"

I try to twist so I don't break my neck on the concrete floor rushing towards me, but I still land hard on my feet. I hear the bones crack as one of my ankle twists—an old injury from the last time I had to deal with one of the Director twins. I bounce forward on my kneecaps before hitting my head hard against the floor. I am helpless, dumped unceremoniously into a large concrete dungeon. I gasp…for some reason my first thoughts are on a little naked mole rat.

The Lorwardian walks towards me. She is a giant, fifteen to twenty feet tall, somewhat stooped over, with deep wrinkles in her face. Her mass of gray hair hangs down to her waist. Her eyes are the color of onyx, like a shark's. She's wearing a huge, shapeless robe that looks as if it were made from some brown animal fur, tied at the middle with a rope. But even through the robe I can tell she has massive muscles. She could indeed rip me into pieces.

She opens her mouth—I see her fangs, sharp like the nails on her fingers. I hear an ear-shattering roar of rage. In all the missions I experienced, seldom was I ever actually afraid. But now, my mind goes blank.

When I open my eyes, I'm lying on a huge cot, with a coarse blanket covering me up to my bare shoulders. My mission clothes are neatly folded on a nearby bench. I feel like a toy Barbie doll. The giantess is examining my knees and ankles. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"Be still, child. I'm examining you," she says. She reminds me of my mother.

"I can see that, but…uhmmm," I gasp when she touches my leg.

"Because I am a flesh weaver, or what you might call a shaman," as if that were self-evident, like my mother's old because I'm the mommy tee shirt. "Your knees are bruised, but are otherwise undamaged. Your leg is broken near the ankle. I set the bones while you were passed out, but they need to be healed. I don't have the strength I used to have, but I think I can still manage this." She places a rolled up rag in my mouth. "This may hurt some," she says as she enfolds my entire foot into her hands that are the size of laundry baskets. For a moment I feel again the excruciating pain, the rag muffling my cry as I bite down hard. I feel the bones, tissues, and marrow mending—then the pain disappears. I lift my foot off the cot, wiggle my toes…a bit stiff, but otherwise, good as new. Then I notice the giantess grimace. Her own ankle turns a dark, mottled purple, then returns to its normal Shego green. This is too weird. "How did you do that? Who are you?" I ask.

She interrupts me again. "Shush. I am old, even by my people's standards. I can't do what I could when I was a mere 60…or 300 of your earth's solar rotations." Several minutes pass, then she takes a deep breath, like someone who's finally reached the top step after running up the stadium stairs.

She smiles down at me. "I am honored to finally meet you, Kim Possible. My name is Mara. Please forgive me for startling you with my war cry. When I recognized you, I was angry and feared you were beyond help. As I examined you, I also noted much battle scarring and some curious burn marks. At least two of your ribs have been broken. Your internal child bearing organs have also been damaged, though otherwise unused."

I merely frown and nod. "Tell me something I don't know," some of the old bitterness creeping back into my voice.

Mara looks at me intently, "There are other internal scars as well, it seems," the creature said.

"How did you fix my leg?" I ask.

"Simple energy transfer and acceleration. Few individuals are blessed with the burden of this ability," Mara replies. I remember what Hannah did for Shego a few months ago… "Fortunately, human physiology is virtually identical to Lorwardian, though you are smaller and more primitive."

"So what's the sitch," I ask, wanting to change the subject.

"I have long been waiting to see you—thank you for answering my summons."

"Summons? I didn't know you were here. You're the enemy. I mean, thanks for fixing my leg, but…Dr. Director said you were a spy." I feel confused. For years, I've been warning others to not trust the Lorwardians, yet here is this thing who acts like a twenty foot green version of my Nana, wise and concerned.

A deep growl rumbles from within her. "The foolish woman, caught up in her own fears. I came as an ambassador of our people; I wished to express our regret over bringing such harm and destruction to your planet. Instead, that creature wanted to know our invasion plans. There were none."

"But why see me? Does this have something to do with defeating Warmonga years ago?"

"No, child. Your body bears witness to your courage and ability as a warrior. But I wanted to see you because you create works of such beauty with your hands and words."

"Lorwardia is dying, Kim Possible. Wars have impoverished our planet—the cruel circle of famine caused by invasions against other planets, which were excused to feed starving Lorwardians. Thus the attack on Earth by the likes of Warhok and Warmonga. When they did not return, the warrior class knew they had finally met a greater enemy. I suggested we sue for peace, and envoys were sent. Your so-called Global Justice wanted an exchange of technology. While our space and war technology is much more advanced than yours, the Cosmic Mother forbids us from artificially manipulating the essential nature of living things, what you humans call genetic engineering. A team of earth scientists led by a Dr. Drakken sent us plants and seeds promising greater yields of food. In exchange, I came to give you this." From beneath her tunic she shows me a black stone obelisk.

"After the first year or so, the earth plants seemed to deliver as promised. What we did not know was that the new plants would obliterate our own native ones. Pesticide poisons bred into the earth plants spread throughout Lorwardia when they released their pollen into the air. I will spare you the horrific description of the fate soon awaiting my planet. You no doubt have enough examples of disease and starvation in your own earth's history."

"I am so sorry, Mara. I didn't know."

"Your earth merely precipitated an inevitable end. I do not blame the fear of a backwards race that has suffered at the hands of our war leaders. Those like Warmonga do not represent what was once a great and noble civilization. I am the one who is sorry, Kim Possible."

"What is that thing?" I ask.

"The obelisk. Your Global Justice kept asking me about Lorwardian invasion plans and were convinced the obelisk held some secret to some new weapon technology, which we were not so foolish to trade away. I said it is a gift to the earth. I insisted I would present it only to the warrior leader, Kim Possible. That seemed to anger the Director creature. She has kept me in this cell for the past fifteen solar rotations."

"The obelisk is made from the core of our planet, and it is impervious to any harm from human technology. The obelisk contains the record of Lorwardia, Kim Possible. Our civilization has run its course, over 100,000 years. The obelisk records our history, our songs, myths and legends. I wish for you to preserve them, to tell the humans on earth about us."

I stare at the shiny black stone, cool to the touch, but denser and heavier than lead. "How does it work?" I ask.

"Talk to it, and it will reveal images and sounds, somewhat like your holographs. Ask it questions. The more you learn, the more questions you will learn to ask. It will tell you about me, my lovers, my children and grandchildren, my life and journeys…Now, tell me about yourself, Kim Possible."

So I tell her, haltingly at first, but soon I'm baring my soul to her. She merely nods, sometimes smiles, but always with rapt attention. I conclude with my problems with Ron, Yori, and Hannah.

Mara looks at me somewhat puzzled. "There are creatures throughout the universe that are self-generating. Is that such a difficult concept in itself? One can access life forces from the cosmos or even from the planet itself. It is rare. Indeed, such a thing has happened only once in Lorwardia, in the midst of the dark ages long ago. Strangely enough, it has happened twice before on your earth, within a few generations of each other, a mere two thousand solar years ago, though on opposite sides of your planet. Are you so backwards in the ways of the universe? Do you not trust your mate?"

"With my life, but…"

"Did this Yori lie to you? Is there evidence that they deceived you?"

"Well, no. Actually, the weird thing is…"

"Then the matter is simple logic, child. What do they teach you here on earth?"

I feel like I'm in kindergarten again. What has been a complicated torment now seems like an explanation to a small child over why the sun comes up or why it rains. I feel…ashamed.

She just smiles again. "I don't judge you. Thank you for the gift of your life story. You've already lived a fuller and richer life than Lorwardians such as Warmonga." She is quiet for a few moments.

"I am too old for the journey home, even if there were any Lorwardian ships to take me back for the proper rites. I wish to give you one more thing, Kim Possible."

She gently pushes me back on the cot and covers my abdomen and waist with her huge hands. I feel something burning within me—I realize what she's doing. "No, Mara," I cry. "You mustn't. You'll die."

"Shush, child. I willingly do this thing, for you are still of age to bear children. Consider my gift to you as but small reparation for the harm my planet brought to yours. Now cease talking. This will hurt, but the pain will pass soon enough. Be brave once more, my young warrior." She is chanting something; I double over as my gut cramps and waves of nausea roll through me. Finally, the pain is gone. I open my eyes, and see Mara stretched on the concrete floor beside me, still uttering her strange chant. Her eyes stare at the ceiling, her mouth open in a silent gasp of agony, and then she sighs.

I jump out of the cot and try to arrange the blanket beneath her head. "Mara, we can help you…"

"No, my child." My tears fall on her cheek. "I have achieved a life feat. I gladly give up my spirit to mend your scars so that someday a young life may grow inside your womb."

"Remember me, Kim Possible." She breathes deeply once more, and then is still. I sit beside her, unaware of time…

I feel a hand on my shoulder. "KP, are you all right? What did, uh, this thing do to you?"

"Her name is Mara. She didn't do anything to me. She did something for us." Ron pulls me to my feet and holds me close as I sob into his shoulder. He doesn't say anything; he just strokes my hair.

Finally, I stop. Ron whispers in my ear, "Kim, no disrespect intended, but…as badical as you look in your underwear, I think you should put your mission clothes back on." I look up into his face. I laugh…and start sobbing again.

Hannah bends down, closes Mara's eyelids, and covers her with the coarse blanket. "The old one, she was a shaman." It wasn't a question; she just knows.

After I tie my shoes, I ask Ron, "How did you find me?"

"It took a little coercion on Hannah's part to finally get the good Dr. Director to spill."

I nod. "We can't leave Mara here in this place. Not like this."

"I know. We'll do this right."

It is just before dawn. We stand around Mara's body, me by her side, Ron and Hannah beside her head and feet. Ron begins to speak: "G-d of the Universe, full of compassion, may the soul of this Lorwardian, Mara, rise to a place of rest." They close their eyes; their hands begin to glow. A bluish flame enwraps Mara's body; they lift Mara with their upraised arms. Hannah continues: "Enfold her under your wings. May she find peace among the heavens. Amen."

Mara begins to rise toward the sky, faster and faster, until she's a brilliant blue mote streaking across the night sky like a comet. Then she is gone.

"Thank you, Ron. You too, Hannah."

"It was our honor, Kim. She was a great woman." Hannah keeps staring up at the stars.

"Kim, what did you mean by, 'she did something for us'?" Ron asks.

"Let's find out," I smile at him. I whisper into Hannah's ear, "How would you like a…" Hannah squeals and jumps into my arms.

Ron shakes his head. "You two! I just don't get it. Why can't the ladies just say what they mean?"

"You got me, Ron." I grab his hand and Hannah's. "Let's go home."