by Tess Sharpe
“But if they start with babies, they can control them from the start. They took the Terrigen from our parents so they can expose as many children as they want to the mists. And it’s simple supply and demand—we’d just be brood mares, making more and more slaves. And every man on Damaria wants to become a Keeper. It’s the ultimate status.”
The picture she painted—where young women were used like you’d use a power tool—filled Carol with revulsion and a troubling familiarity. She’d lived on Earth—and elsewhere—long enough to see shades of her own world and society in others, and sometimes not in a good way.
Right now, she was having one of those “not in a good way” moments, because the system that Rhi described was horrifying.
It was also too familiar. Systems like Damaria’s existed in Earth’s past, present and probably its future. Systems that robbed people of choice, of hope, of freedom. Histories that included slavery and Jim Crow and hundreds of years of struggle for civil rights. Patriarchies and social systems all around the world that crushed women and others who didn’t fit into what some man had decreed normal. Man vs. woman. Mutant vs. human. Human vs. alien.
Hate was the name of the game for a lot of people. And access to power was what kept that hate alive and made it grow.
Thinking about it, Carol realized she was cracking her knuckles—a preparation habit from flight school that she’d never left behind. Rhi’s eyes were drawn to the movement, but then skittered down as soon as Carol noticed. The kid didn’t meet people’s eyes very much.
“When the ship stopped at our Maiden House for the presidential visit,” Rhi went on, “I knew it was my one chance. So I dug the implant out of my arm, stole the ship, and ripped a hole big enough to guide it through. The only thought I had doing it was to find someone who could help. Please, are you her? Did I find you?” Repeating the first words she’d said to Carol, the girl sounded even more vulnerable and shaky. And this time, knowing her brutal history and her amazing escape, the two questions struck Carol in the heart.
So much horror and despair across the galaxy. Try as she did to tough it out, at times like this, it weighed Carol down. But she had strong shoulders. And it was time to stand up under this load.
Rhi—and all the girls and women of Damaria—needed her help. They needed a heroine, even though they’d been taught there were none. And it was long past time to show them how wrong that was.
Carol reached out and took Rhi’s hand gently, mindful of the IV. “Yes, you found me,” she said, her own voice breaking as she held the girl’s gaze. “And I’m going to see you through this. You, me, and anyone else I can find, we’re gonna go save your people.”
* * *
“THIS IS outrageous!”
Carol stepped out of Rhi’s room, ready to round on Medusa for shouting at the guards, but all the fight drained out of her when she saw the queen wasn’t yelling at security. Instead, she was fuming into a small, disc-shaped communication device, and her red locks were practically standing on end, vibrating in the air like a furious halo.
“She’s been going back and forth with the Inhumans for twenty minutes,” Mantis muttered.
“Were you out here this whole time?”
Mantis nodded. “I sensed that Rhi would be more open if it was only you in the room. We’ve been listening on the intercom.”
Part of Carol felt relieved. She’d been dreading the task of relaying the grim reality of Damaria’s Inhumans to Mantis.
“It’s been a hundred years,” Medusa growled into her comm. “You would think we’ve grown past such squabbles. Especially when our brother and sister Inhumans are suffering so.”
“Talking with the other Inhumans isn’t going well, I take it.”
Medusa shot Carol an infuriated look before turning her attention back to the comm as a voice intoned, “We register your complaint, Your Majesty. And we ask that you return at once— without the traitor.”
Medusa jabbed the comm shut, pink staining her cheeks.
“Well,” she said. “There it is. No help will be forthcoming from New Attilan.”
Sympathy flashed inside her—God, she really was getting soft—and Carol stepped forward. “Look—”
“Don’t gloat,” Medusa interrupted.
“I’m not going to gloat,” Carol said. “I understand you wanted to help. And I’m sorry your people aren’t interested.”
“Are you interested?” Medusa asked, a keen light in her eyes.
“I am,” Carol said. “I’ve just promised Rhi to put together a rescue op. Mantis, are you in?”
“Absolutely,” Mantis replied. “Happy to join your team.”
“If you do liberate her people, the Genetic Council will not let them come live in New Attilan,” Medusa said in a low voice. “I’m sorry. My hands are tied.”
“I understand,” Carol said, even though she couldn’t. Not after she’d heard the story of what Rhi and her people had gone through. Ruler though she was, Medusa was still subject to the Genetic Council’s decrees. But Carol had never been one to obey an unjust order, no matter what… though that righteous streak had gotten her into big trouble.
“I must go.” But Medusa stood stock still, staring at the hospital-room door. Her hair stirred restlessly in little circles, as if the tendrils themselves were pacing.
“I will tell her that you tried,” Mantis said, placing a hand on the queen’s arm.
Medusa’s head bowed. “I’m sorry.”
Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked down the hall, shoulders hunched, as if the weight of what she’d walked away from was too heavy to bear.
Carol felt for her—but she felt for Rhi more. With no guarantee of refuge, a free life would be challenging for her, her friends, and what was left of her family. But Carol was resolved: She’d find a place for Rhi and her people.
First, they had to get them off Damaria. And to make that happen, Carol and Mantis would need some help. In Damarian society, women were kept under lock and key. Any unchaperoned woman might cause suspicion, maybe widespread alarm. Which meant…
“So, what’s our next move?” Mantis asked.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Carol said. “But I think we need a man.”
8
“ARE YOU going to miss your old man while you’re gone?” Scott asked, flipping his turn signal and merging onto the highway. Just two more exits before they hit theirs.
“I’ll be way too busy,” Cassie said blithely. She had inherited more than his lopsided smile and tendency to bite her nails. “Three full weeks of hanging with my friends, and people encouraging us to use our powers instead of our parents grounding us because we accidentally melted the blender with our eyes? It’s my dream come true!”
“How is your friend Amelia?” Scott asked, amused.
“Still grounded,” she pouted.
“I think that has to do with the fact that she was making a margarita when said blender-melting happened.”
“Would you ground me if I destroyed the blender?”
“Do we even have one?”
She pursed her lips, thinking. “Good question. We should have a blender. Think of the epic smoothies we could make.”
“I’ll pick one up while you’re gone.” He felt a little pang at the thought of not seeing her for three whole weeks. His time with Cassie was always divided with Peggy and limited by his obligations as Ant-Man, but this was different. The thought of these three weeks ahead when she’d be totally out of reach reminded him a bit too much of his prison days, when he had a photo of her, and not much else. But he had to put on a strong dad face, since he didn’t want to mar her anticipation.
Cassie was thrilled to be invited to the Rogers Gifted Teen Retreat. It was a chance to spend time with her friends who understood the pressures of having powers and to work with some of the heroes the kids had grown up idolizing. Plus, there were horses—apparently a big draw. And a cute boy Scott wasn’t supposed to know a
bout, so he was pretending to be oblivious.
He glanced at her, thinking back to all those years ago when she was sick, and how helpless he’d felt. To save her, he’d done what any father would do—everything he could—and he’d gotten lucky. In his theft of the Pym Particles, he’d been able to rescue the doctor who saved her. Every day, he appreciated that good fortune. Sometimes the thought of all the fathers and mothers who weren’t so lucky haunted him.
“You might not miss me,” he said, the words coming out a little choked. “But I’m gonna miss you.”
“Oh, Dad, come on, don’t get emotional on me,” she scoffed, but her eyes were a little bright as he took the exit and headed across the bridge toward the island that housed the giant complex of gray stone buildings that made up the Triskelion. He’d never admit it to his kid, but places like the Triskelion always made the thief in him a little nervous. It was all the security and the suits and the agents from alien governments he didn’t know about. Even though he no longer had even a finger dipped in the criminal world—okay, maybe just a pinky—he couldn’t stop his heart’s familiar tap-tap-tap.
“What can I say? I like having you around,” he shrugged.
“You’re not such a bad dad,” she admitted in a grudging tone that he found quietly adorable. “I know it couldn’t have been easy to convince Mom to let me go,” she added, with such open appreciation that he felt he had to interject something.
“Your mom just likes to have all the information,” he said. “Once she understood how safe this was—and how good it would look on your college applications—she was on board. You know that, right?”
“Maybe. But deep down, she wishes I wasn’t like this,” Cassie said.
He didn’t reply as they pulled up to the security tower in front of the Triskelion. But after he parked, he turned in his seat, fumbling for the right words. He couldn’t evade the truth—she was fifteen, and too old for that. Things were easier when she was five and easily distracted.
“Can I ask you something?” she broke the silence.
He nodded.
“Do you wish I wasn’t like you?”
“No!” Scott said instantly. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m aware that not realizing my daughter exposed herself to Pym Particles for years is a pretty monumental parenting fail…”
“To be fair, you were kind of dead,” Cassie said. “But if we’re going to be totally fair on both sides here, you really shouldn’t have taught me how to crack a safe,” Cassie said.
“In hindsight, yeah, that wasn’t such a great idea,” he admitted. “But nevertheless, I am proud of what you’ve accomplished, and I’m so excited to see what your future holds. As Cassie Lang… and as Stinger.”
“It wasn’t a parenting fail, Dad. I’m just really wily.” He chuckled as she threw her arms around his neck. “I’m gonna miss you, too,” she whispered, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear.
“Gotcha to say it,” he crowed, and she laughed, pulling away and unbuckling her seatbelt.
He got out of the car. Opening the hatch to grab Cassie’s suitcase, he smiled when he saw his daughter had continued her bumper-sticker game. She liked to put new magnetic stickers on his car when he least expected it, each more ridiculous than the last. I BRAKE FOR ANTS had been a stand-out—he’d slapped that one on a toolbox in his work shed. And on their last road trip, he hadn’t noticed the HONK IF YOU LOVE CHEESE sticker, which resulted in a very confusing drive through Wisconsin.
This time, the sticker read World’s BEST DAD.
* * *
CASSIE WASN’T due to leave until the morning. They’d spend the night in the apartments on the top floor of the Triskelion, and she’d depart early with her friends.
As soon as they got to the upstairs apartments, Cassie disappeared into a group of her friends at the end of the hall, their voices rising excitedly. So after putting her suitcase away, he headed down to the cafeteria.
He was on his third slice of apple pie when someone set down a tray heaped high with sandwiches across the table from him. He looked up, smiling when he saw short blonde hair and blue eyes and that oh-so-distinctive Hala Star.
Carol Danvers had a way about her. And by that, he meant she looked as if she could crush a person between her fingertips if she wanted. Which was comforting if she was on your side, and terrifying if she wasn’t.
“Hey, Carol,” he said. “Heard about the ship in the Hudson. I thought you were on leave?”
“You know me,” she said, grabbing one of the sandwiches that had at least a half-pound of roast beef pressed between the thick slices of crusty wheat bread. “Always getting into something.” She took a huge bite and somehow didn’t manage to smear mustard on her mouth. Surely that was some type of witchcraft—he always got mustard everywhere.
“Well, glad you’re around to take care of it. We heard about it, driving in.”
“We?”
“Cassie’s with me. She’s going to the Rogers teen retreat tomorrow. She’s upstairs right now with her friends, probably plotting to restart the Young Avengers.”
“She’s a pistol, that one. Like her dad.”
“It’s clearly my punishment for all the trouble I gave my old man,” he joked. “So what was with the ship? Who was in it? We’re not being invaded, right? You wouldn’t be leisurely eating sandwiches if we were. Or…” he paused. “Are you fueling up?”
She laughed. “We’re not being invaded. I’m just hungry. It’s been a long day.”
“Fill me in.”
“The ship that crashed, the pilot survived and is in the med center,” Carol said. “She’s got a hell of a story.”
As Carol laid it out, the whole brutal history—the Inhumans forced to flee Attilan and crashing on a new planet, only to be trapped in a dystopian nightmare—Scott got angrier and angrier. “So, some planet decides The Handmaid’s Tale is a good model to start with and then takes it to another level of evil,” he said.
“You’ve read Margaret Atwood?” Carol cocked an eyebrow, surprised.
“Cassie’s fifteen. She’s basically a ball of discovery, rage, and super-powers right now. Of course I read Margaret Atwood. And Roxane Gay. And bell hooks. I’m trying to keep up with her reading list, but she’s a speed-reader. What?”
“Nothing,” she said. “You’re a good dad, to keep up with her interests.”
“I’m trying there, too.”
“You’re doing a great job,” she assured him. “And she’s a great kid.”
“I can’t believe this world… this Damaria. It’s sick. The way you describe it, they don’t even view these women as people— they’re like a… a new cell phone with super-power features. They just choose the right one for the right project and plug them in.” He shook his head, a lump growing in his throat at the thought.
“Welcome to my long day.” Carol tore into her second sandwich with a little less vigor. She looked tired, but he’d never tell her that. “Mantis is reaching out to some of her friends across the universe to see if anyone’s tangled with these people, but it looks like the Damarians have cloaking technology that hides them from most radars and detection systems. They’ve been tucked away on the dark edges of the galaxy all this time.”
“So they’re safe to continue their reign of terror?”
“Not anymore,” she said, those two words spoken with such conviction that it sent a shiver through him. This is what he liked about Carol. She was a hard-ass, for sure—a hard-ass about the right things.
“You’re heading up a rescue mission?”
“Damn right. Like I said, Mantis is on board too. You’ve met her, right?”
“Yeah, a few times,” Scott said. “She’s a great person to have in a fight. Or to listen while you sob.”
“I’m thinking this trip will involve less sobbing, more punching,” Carol said. “Though the way they’re running things is making me feel mighty emotional. Is it possible to punch an entire planet?”
“If it
were, you’d be the one to do it,” Scott smiled. “What about the Inhumans? Are they sending someone to help out?”
Carol shook her head. “Medusa can’t do anything. I know she wanted to. But she’s beholden to her council, and they’re not interested in saving a bunch of people they consider treasonous.”
“Some people sure know how to hold onto a grudge,” Scott said. “So what are you thinking, attack-wise? Need a hand?”
“Are you interested?”
“Well, Cassie’s gone for three weeks, and I thought about pulling an art heist or something so I wouldn’t be bored, but this seems a worthier cause.”
Carol grinned around a bite of sandwich number three. “Mantis and I would appreciate your help. With the way things are on Damaria, I think we’d stand out even more if we don’t have a guy with us.”
“So any man would do, I see,” Scott joked, unoffended.
“Not just any man. We’re pulling a down-and-dirty rescue op, so if you’re our dude, our chances are much better,” Carol said. “You’re good in a tight spot. And you’re fantastic undercover.”
“If they’re a purely pyrotechnic society, I can guarantee you, they haven’t seen anything like me before. Or you. Or Mantis. And speaking of Mantis—hey!” He waved at her from across the cafeteria.
Mantis headed over to them, slid her tray across the table, and took a seat next to Carol.
“Did you ask him?”
“She did,” Scott said. “I’m happy to be your token male.”
Mantis grinned. “You’re a good sport. I think Rhi will like you.”
“How… how is she?” Scott asked. He couldn’t imagine what it took to survive what that young woman had endured and escape it like she did. She was just a few years older than Cassie.
“Determined,” Mantis said, before Carol could answer. “Terrified. But not broken. They never could break her, though they tried.”
“I can’t believe she kept the reach of her powers secret from them,” Scott said. “That’s…”