He laughed and sat down in the seat Perry had vacated.
“Save your money. I’m here with friends.” He waved toward a table with three men, obviously cops, smiling back at them. “We came in a minute ago, but I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“I wish you had. Have you ordered yet?” When he shook his head, she slid one of her porterhouses toward him. “Here.”
“Thanks. I was kind of worried about you. That bomb wouldn’t have left a piece of me big enough to measure, but all it did was give you a black eye.”
“That wasn’t the bomb,” Stella explained. “That was an atomic powered fist.”
“Wow. Tough line of work you’re in.”
“Are you kidding? Were you just listening to yourself? At least when I die, I’ll leave a pretty corpse.”
“Yes,” he smiled. “A very pretty one.”
* * * * *
Linda Ford sat on the bench by the bus stop, oblivious to the chilly wind whipping around her. The Chicago skyline reflecting off the water was beautiful. The Kansas City skyline just didn’t compare—half a dozen buildings that didn’t look like they belonged together. And there was that building that looked like a penis. She looked toward her home with her telescopic vision and saw Skyboy on patrol.
“Hey there little girl,” said a man in a trench coat, but he made a quick exit as Linda’s glowing red eyes turned toward him.
“When did life get so complicated?” she said as she leaned her head back on the bench. Then she used her heat vision to destroy several pieces of space junk on a collision course with the Space Shuttle Independence. A nearby space rock burned up as it entered the atmosphere. “I wonder how much more Polarite is out there.”
* * * * *
Stella was having so much fun that she almost didn’t look at Perry and Meg when she left Backdraft—almost. Arm in arm with Glenn, she pushed through the double doors. The air outside felt like a blast of Jack Frost’s freeze ray, after the warm interior of the eatery. She leaned into her new friend and he put his arm around her shoulder.
“Do you have a car?” she asked.
“I came with friends.”
“Then I’ll give you a lift home. Put your arms around my neck.”
He clasped his hands behind her head and she put one arm under his shoulder, slowly floating up into the sky.
“Where do you live?”
“State Street off Schiller.”
“Yeah, I know the area.” She soared east toward the stated destination, slow enough that the wind would do no more than tousle his hair.
“I kind of asked you this before...” he started.
“What?”
“Have you ever dated a man before...? I mean a human guy?”
“No. I’ve really only dated one person. We were together for a while.”
“Perihelion?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a hard act to follow.”
“Yes he is,” she answered truthfully, and dropped to the ground. “Here we are.”
“Oh, wow. That was fast.”
“Thanks for saving me,” said Stella.
“Listen. I don’t know if you would ever consider it, but if you would, I’d like to take you on a real date.”
“Can I think about it?”
Glenn smiled. “Please do.”
Putting her hand on his cheek, she kissed him lightly on the lips and before he had a chance to say anything else, she was gone, zipping across the sky.
* * * * *
Smithson Building Penthouse Apartment;
Wabash Avenue;
“Irving sees what you’re doing, my little super genius. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Take every opportunity to stand out. Show the world that that All American Girl is Chicago’s number one hero, and if you get a chance to make little blue look like the Kansas rube she is, so much the better. Call me. I’ve got a calendar gig for you.”
“Irving, you fricking dumb-ass,” said Stella, pressing the button and shattering the answering machine into dozens of pieces.
She took a quick look around the apartment, but Linda wasn’t home. At least her things were still there. Stella sat up and waited until two, but when Skygirl still failed to make an appearance, she finally went to bed.
* * * * *
240,000 Miles Away
On a vector approaching Earth
The Fleet Admiral of 61 Cygni turned to his Empress and bowed low.
“We pass the orbit of Soton Three’s single large satellite, Your Majesty. Our eleven cycle journey is complete.”
The Empress turned all three of her heads toward the Lord High Field Marshal.
“Are all your preparations complete?”
“Indeed, Your Majesty. Fifty-eight Destruction Class Battlecruisers have their weapons trained on the targets and seven million shock troops have been loaded aboard their landing craft. Seventy-four squadrons of attack fighters and twenty-two squadrons of strategic bombers have already been launched. All we await is your word.”
“You have it,” she said, pausing to wipe the green poison dripping from one of her mouths. “Let the invasion begin!”
Chapter Seven
Tanya Everson;
Live Action News Update;
“As massive spacecraft, each one the size of a city, approach major metropolitan centers around the globe, the people of the Earth wait with baited breath for the answer to the questions that fill the minds of every man woman and child. Who are these aliens? What do they want? And do they come in peace?”
Smithson Building Penthouse Apartment;
Wabash Avenue;
Stella’s cell phone rang again. She picked it up from the night stand, slid it open, and held it to her face.
“Yeah?”
“Stella? It’s Dynagirl.”
“Hey, Dina. Perry’s not here.”
“I know he’s not there. This is an EAS call. We have a situation. We’re being invaded.”
“From Canada or Mexico?”
“From space.”
“What, again?”
“Yes. Get ready and keep your phone with you. I’ll call again.”
Stella got out of bed and took a quick look out the window. A massive mother ship was moving into position over the city. She hopped into the shower. There was no way she was going to fight aliens without first washing her hair. After brushing her teeth and throwing on a little hair gel, she squeezed into a fresh All American Girl costume. A glance in the other bedroom told her that Linda was still not home—not the best time for Skygirl to go AWOL. Stepping out onto the balcony, Stella sat down in the patio chair and waited.
The gigantic ship stopped at a point where it was almost exactly centered over the Sears Tower, or Willis Tower as they were trying to get everyone to call it. Stella estimated it at five miles in diameter and about a quarter mile thick. Around it were buzzing dozens of small craft, more every minute, though it was unclear to her from what point on the great craft they were launching.
After several minutes, Stella went back inside and sat down in the living room, turning on the TV. Tanya Everson appeared on the screen.
“Word comes to us this morning from NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory that the spaceships we see above us arrived on a trajectory that seems to indicate they are from 61 Cygni, a double star system that is approximately 11.4 light years from our sun. What else can you tell us, Bill?”
The picture changed to newsman Bill Drake standing in Lincoln Park. In the background, Stella could see that the statue of Johnny Liberty was back in place. He was still missing his cape.
“Viewers will remember that it was just three years ago when the Earth faced invasion from Epsilon Eridani. Ironically, scientists tell us that the two space fleets were actually flying through the vastness of interstellar vacuum for much of the same time…”
“That’s not ironic, Bill,” said Stella to the TV. “It’s just coincidental.”
“…also that the ea
rlier invasion was only stopped at a great cost, including the loss of arguably Earth’s greatest hero, Skyman.”
Stella’s cell phone rang again.
“Linda?”
“No, it’s Dynagirl again. Do you know where Skygirl is?”
“No.”
“Well, if you find her, keep in contact. I’m on my way over.”
“Really?”
“Yes. There are no ships attacking Detroit.”
“I guess that’s one good thing about the population shift,” said Stella.
“I suppose so,” replied Dynagirl. “I’ll see you soon.”
“That’s enough waiting around,” said Stella, and with a leap flew out the balcony door and into the sky.
Somewhere on the south side;
“What are we going to do, Boss?” asked Steve, one of Professor Destruction’s grunts.
“What do you mean?” Destruction wasn’t looking at Steve. He was staring at the Atomic Jack-O-Lantern, who stood in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest.
“The world is being invaded by Martians.”
“They’re not Martians, and what do I care?”
“This is our planet! They’re invading! They’re taking over!”
“Steve,” said Professor Destruction in a calm and level voice. “You need to be more like me. You need to have more faith. I have every faith in Earth’s heroes. They will save the world as they’ve done time and time again. And in the meantime, their distraction will give us the advantage we need to place and arm our nuclear weapons.” His voice became suddenly louder. “That is, if you will quit your incessant whining and do as you are told!”
“Yes, sir.” Steve hurriedly rejoined the other henchmen, where they were installing an ICBM into an abandoned subway tunnel.
The professor turned back toward the Atomic Jack-O-Lantern, who stood, unmoving, grinning, perpetually grinning back at him.
“I’ve been thinking about you, Jack. May I call you Jack?”
The other villain made no move to indicate that he had even heard him.
“You are a special individual,” continued Destruction. “I’ve been making a bit of a study of you. Your radiation is interesting. It’s the only thing I’ve seen weaken our little windy city heroine. That’s interesting, but it’s not as interesting as your ability to blink out of the world and appear somewhere else in the world. You’ve never been caught—never been imprisoned in any way. That’s impressive.”
The Atomic Jack-O-Lantern shifted from one foot to the other, but otherwise didn’t move.
“I guess my first question would be ‘where does that energy come from?’ Then I’d wonder, ‘how can I harness it myself?’”
* * * * *
Stella flew in and around the armada of alien attack craft, her arms stretched out to her sides like an airplane. Though they were all strange designs, she could make out the various types—troop carriers, strategic attack craft, and fighters. She wondered how the latter would stand up against F-22 Raptors. Aliens were always underestimating human technology. The people of Earth were very, very good at finding new and innovative ways to kill.
“What is it with you guys?” she shouted at the canopy of one fighter. “Why keep invading us?”
“Nice weather, yellow sun.”
Stella turned to see Dynagirl flying up beside her. Her red and white costume was very retro-chic, like something Atom Bomb would have worn in the fifties—sleek high heels, mid-length skirt, and a thin little mask covering her eyes.
“Look at you, girl!” said All American Girl. “Still rocking the cape!”
“I love the classics,” said Dina.
“How long till these guys attack?”
“Not long,” replied Dynagirl. “Our guys are almost in position.”
Stella didn’t need telescopic vision to see the flight of U.S. fighters streaking in their direction. They were cutting across the horizon leaving white contrails in their wake.
“I’m not waiting,” said Stella.
She went into a high swan dive, falling hundreds of feet before tucking into a roll and dropping feet first onto the top of a Cygnian strategic bomber, crashing through it in a rain of shattered plastic and splintered metal. Grabbing the wing of a fighter flying a hundred feet below, she spun it around and sent it flying into a second bomber. She followed this up by punching in the nose of another attack craft just as missiles began flying through the atmosphere like a plague of gigantic mosquitoes.
“Fricking A!” she shouted. “This is what I’m talking about!”
“You’re a wild woman, A.G.!” said Dynagirl, as she wrestled a large missile from the air and sent it soaring toward the alien mothership.
The skies exploded as the United States Air Force engaged the Cygnian aircraft, zooming just above the Chicago skyline and spraying air to air missiles ahead of them. Aliens on either side of Stella exploded and she looked up to see an F-22 shot down in retaliation. The pilot ejected but when his shoot popped out, it didn’t inflate as intended, remaining in a lump and looking a lot like a used tea bag. Stella grabbed him, still harnessed to his cockpit chair, and flew him down to the street. Placing him carefully on the pavement, she looked down Clarendon to see row upon row of aliens marching in neon blue and green battlesuits. Energy blasts from those in the front row flew overhead. Tearing away the straps holding the pilot in place, Stella told him “find some cover.”
Suddenly a panel van went flying past All American Girl, crashing into the legion of alien soldiers, smashing a dozen or so beneath it. A huge figure in gold mega-mesh stepped up beside her. It was Behemoth.
“Fricking Hell, I don’t have time to take you back to prison right now.”
A rain of railgun fire sliced down the street from a passing fighter.
“Relax, Girl. You don’t expect me to sit around in jail when the Earth is being invaded by Cygnatures, do you?”
“Cygnians. Fine. I’ll catch you later.”
All American Girl shot up into the sky to smash into another attack craft, while Behemoth took a running leap and plowed into the alien army, sending the mechanized monsters toppling like bowling pins in an alley.
* * * * *
On the Master Ship;
22,300 Miles Above Soton Three;
The Empress of 61 Cygni turned one of her three heads toward the admiral. The other two remained riveted on the viewscreen which showed a figure moving in and out of the attack fleet, destroying ships with impunity. Single punches disabled attack ships. Fighters were shot down with laser-like heat vision.
“What is that thing?” she demanded.
“If I did not know better, Your Majesty,” he replied, “I would think it was a Polarian.”
“The Polarians are extinct,” she snapped.
“That’s what we thought about the Olympians too, but there seem to be several of them on this wretched planet.”
The Empress swung a clawed tentacle that clipped off the admiral’s leftmost head. The look on his middle face was one of fright, but the rightmost kept its noses turned toward the viewscreen.
* * * * *
Skygirl had waited for the attack to start before she acted. Then she shot from the ground, ricocheting through the sky, destroying one alien spacecraft after another at several times the speed of sound. She fired off bursts of heat vision and freezing breath, and periodically she buzzed low to make sure that no innocent bystanders were being hit by falling debris. Then she shot back to high altitude again. On one of these low passes in which she vaporized falling glass with her heat vision, she spotted a single super in gold mega-mesh fighting dozens of mech-suited aliens. She dropped down next to him and pounded an onrushing Cygnian.
“Hey,” she said, pausing to freeze one of the enemy soldiers with her super breath, and then shatter it with a punch. “Do I know you?”
“Behemoth.” He pointed to the lion symbol on his chest.
“Oh, yeah. Aren’t you a bad guy?”
He used the body of one alien to block the fire of several others and then shrugged. “A.G. is right. I always get caught. I’m thinking of going straight. Of course I know you, Skygirl.”
“Are you friends with All American Girl?”
“We’re arch-nemesiseses…”
“Nemeses?”
“Right. But you know, we’re tight. She gave me your picture. I’m a big fan.”
“Well that was nice.”
“Damn!”
A laser beam cut through his left forearm. Skygirl fried the attacker.
“You don’t have invulnerability?”
“No. My power is that once I get going I can’t be stopped… um, except I guess, by supernaturally strong women… ”
“Well, you keep up the good work.”
Skygirl shot back into the air. Behemoth watched her smash another fighter.
“Wow.”
* * * * *
Tanya Everson;
Live Action News Update;
“Combat across the windy city seems to have turned in favor of Earth’s protectors. Skygirl, Dynagirl, and our own star-spangled heroine have bolstered Air Force fighter squadrons, defeating most of the alien attack craft, while National Guard and police forces, aided by the Atomic Twins and surprisingly, supervillain Behemoth, have cleaned up alien ground forces. The gigantic mothership still hovers threateningly above the city however, and nobody seems to know what horrors it may yet unleash.”
* * * * *
Women of Power Page 8