Captain Marvel

by Tess Sharpe

Annoyed at Carol’s act of heroism, Ansel pressed his lips together tightly and grabbed Umbra’s arm, thrusting it out, activating her powers. Carol could shield Mantis from a ball of fire, but the wall of ice that sent Rhi flying forward to avoid it was another matter. Her cheek pressed into the sharp gravel, she scrambled up. The wall was stories high—and blocking her from Carol and Mantis, who were on the other side.

  She backed up, her shoulders hitting the wall as she heard muffled voices on the other side and the thump of someone’s fists on it. The chill of the ice blasting around her was strange in the dry heat of the desert, but Rhi made no move toward Ansel. Behind her, the ice lit with a red glow—Carol was melting it, trying to break through to help her. But even as water trickled down the wall, it began to freeze again. Umbra whimpered as Ansel pushed more and more power into the wall of ice, thickening it so even Carol’s powers would take time to break through. A hush fell over the yard that reminded her of before, of the day she and Ansel met, when they had stood on a similar field.

  It was just them now.

  But it wasn’t just her anymore.

  She had her sisters, fighting on the dunes beyond them, fighting for their freedom. She had her team—their skills, their stories, their failures, and their strengths. The heroes of the universe and beyond had helped her return here to free her sisters. Now she must use what they’d given her to free Umbra and take them all to safety.

  He hasn’t seen anything like me, Carol had said once. And that was true: She was unique—one of a kind.

  And so was Rhi.

  It was time to show him that.

  Something danced at the edges of her fingers like a haunting melody she couldn’t write down correctly… the space in-between, both the darkness and the light that it encompassed. She spun the edges of the atmosphere apart, ripping through it as if her fingers were a knife; as she spun, the sparks twirling like a miniature galaxy between her hands, she walked away from the wall of ice and toward Ansel.

  His eyes, fixed on the tear, glowed with the reflection of the sparks shooting around them. When his gaze focused on her face, he looked awed, shocked… furious.

  She smiled. “I told you once that you couldn’t hide forever,” she said. “But I hid well from you, didn’t I, Ansel?”

  “What—” he started to say, shaking his head, his grip on Umbra tightening. She cried out, and Rhi’s focus split, just for a second. The rip narrowed, and a triumphant smile spread across Ansel’s face as he raised Umbra’s arm and pointed it right at her.

  “No!” Umbra screamed, sweat pouring off her face as she fought the implant’s control. Her eyes began to roll back in her head, electricity sparking where their hands were joined. Her knees buckled, ice spears shooting from her hands and plunging into the ground at Rhi’s feet—instead of into Rhi— as she slumped down onto the gravel.

  “Useless creature,” Ansel sneered, stepping over her twitching body as if it were a piece of trash. “I have to do everything myself.”

  Rhi’s hands began to move again, gripping the atmosphere, slashing the rip in the air right between them like a shield. He came to an abrupt halt, staring into the void, his hand reaching out involuntarily for it as if he couldn’t help himself, and then jerking back.

  “How did you hide this?” he marveled. “I admit it was foolish of me to kill your parents so quickly. I should have taken my time and tortured them to get all the information about their daughter I needed.”

  This time, the rip didn’t wobble or narrow. This time, his cruelty hit its target—but instead of wounding or weakening her, it did the opposite. Behind her, she could hear water trickling in a rush—Carol was close to breaking through, and more columns of red smoke curled in the air beyond the Maiden House fence.

  Carol and her team were winning. And he knew it.

  Umbra was still on the ground behind him. Her eyes had fluttered shut, ice frosting over her eyelids, but she was breathing —wasn’t she?

  Sweat trickled down Rhi’s face as she struggled to tear the rip larger. She could do it—she’d squeezed a damn ship inside one once. Her finger muscles cramped, the power racing through them enough to shatter most people’s bones.

  “I’m going to kill you,” she gritted out. “Just like you killed them.”

  He laughed. “An admirable sentiment,” he said. “But we both know you aren’t capable of such things.”

  “You really want to bet on that?” Rhi asked. “Did you think I was capable of stealing your ship? Burning down your house? Taking that precious history book you had hidden away? Because I did all that and more.”

  His eyes widened, his brows drawing together at her last question. “You—”

  “I gave it to Sona Lee,” Rhi continued, enraged delight dancing through her at the way his face drained of all color. “You’re going to die knowing that I caused your worst nightmare. I made your silly little myth reality. I brought not just one star woman here, but many. And every single one will put power back in the Damarian women’s hands. We will work together—Inhuman, Damarian, Earthling—until every woman… every person on this planet has the power of choice and the power of freedom.”

  He screamed, swiping at her, his fingers almost brushing against the rip. Just a little closer…

  Her hands trembled, her fingers curling to claws as she stretched and pulled the rip wider and wider. The darkness yawned between them, sparks lighting his face, creating deep shadows and crevices, so he resembled the predator he was.

  Was he right about her? Could she kill him? Jella had killed Marson, and she didn’t regret it. Rhi had hesitated when given the same opportunity inside with Miss Egrit. But she hadn’t spared her because of mercy—she wanted the evil woman to pay for what she’d done.

  Ansel’s payment couldn’t be merely death, but total annihilation: of the beliefs and the system and edifices he had established and imposed, and of the future he’d planned to make even more monstrous.

  Ice shattered around them, an explosion of shards she couldn’t run from. She gasped in surprised pain, her head whipping to the side to shield her eyes—and in that split second of self-protection, Ansel leaped.

  His hand closed around her wrist, pulling her forward, trying to break her connection with the rip. But she couldn’t let him. If she did…

  So she did the only thing she could think of, as blue and red and gold blurred in the edge of her vision. She flung her free hand wide, the rip widening, and she yanked with the hand he was gripping.

  They tumbled into the rip, into the in-between, and the last thing she saw was the dawning of a new era—their era, not his— rising in his horrified and beaten eyes.

  33

  “RHI!”

  Carol yelled as Ansel yanked the girl forward. The rip quivered and then widened around them as Rhi twisted in his grip, tipping backwards, into the rip, pulling him with her.

  Carol ran, ice crunching underneath her boots as she pelted across the yard, diving toward the rip as it began to narrow and close. Behind her, she heard Mantis yell, but she didn’t turn, she just leapt, not hoping but knowing it would return to her. That she could break free.

  She had been born for this. And no weapon and no man could contain her.

  Her feet left the ground—and they didn’t return. Her heart soaring, her chest tight, she flew into the shimmering black rip just as it narrowed.

  It was darkness unlike anything she’d ever experienced, even in the farthest reaches of space. Her hands lit her way as she spun— floating on her back, staring up at the deep black lit with the glow of red coming from her—when something drifted past. A doll, one of those hand-sewn patchwork ones. She blinked, confused, flipping over, her gaze lifting as she searched for Rhi. She didn’t find her. Instead, a wedding band slid past her, followed by an orange hat that had seen better days, a constellation of gold coins and jewels that looked ancient—and oh, her heart twinged, a set of dog tags like the ones back around her neck. She almost reached out to t
hem to read the name.

  Just some of the lost things of the universe.

  Carol twisted up, soaring through the dark, the cold frosting her lips. It felt heavy here. Like time had stopped around her, but not in her.

  She dodged around an ancient ship—the old-timey wooden pirate kind—the gaping hole in its hull telling her exactly how it got lost. An odd spinning hexagon of light that spit blue sparks when it neared Carol made her back up a little—she didn’t need trouble right now. She just wanted to find Rhi. She dodged around a grandfather clock, flying forward, her heart beginning to thump in her ears.

  “Rhi!” she called—and to her surprise, her voice echoed like she was in a hall, bouncing off the lost objects around her. The ice particles on her lips thickened with each breath she took as she surged forward.

  A hand closed around her ankle, jerking her down and back. She kicked out and propelled forward at the same time, spiraling through the darkness, dragging her attacker with her. She glanced down, catching sight of white hair and bulging, infuriated eyes.

  “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” she snarled at Ansel.

  She whipped him into the grandfather clock with a crash, the clock’s chimes clanging and echoing in the darkness. He grunted in pain, but kept his hold on her, clawing at her, but his hands didn’t heat or light on fire.

  It was too cold.

  “Where is she?” Carol demanded, planting the foot he wasn’t gripping against his throat, adding enough pressure to make him gurgle.

  She could feel his laugh vibrating through her foot. It made her skin crawl. But it also confirmed something: He’d put her somewhere. And he couldn’t have got far, floating, caught in the gravitational pull of this place.

  “I need to know,” he gasped out.

  She glanced down below them to where he’d grabbed her. The old ship was the obvious choice—which is why she discarded it. Her eyes fell on the trunk floating in the distance, bringing to mind the gold coins and jewels that had glided past her earlier. Like someone had emptied a treasure chest.

  “I need…” His hand tightened around her ankle. “Who are you?”

  Her lip curled. “You tried to take their names from them,” she said, remembering Rhi’s story. How she had been Number Five. “You don’t deserve the privilege of knowing mine.”

  She kicked him, a perfect snapping blow to the jaw, and he shrieked as he lost his grip on her, the sound like nails on a chalkboard—the last gasps of a man who knew he’d be lost forever, drifting among things long forgotten. He flip-flopped through the darkness, spinning away, trying to catch hold of something to slow his trajectory and failing, his voice fading, fading… lost.

  Carol shot forward, away from him, toward the trunk floating in the distance. The wrought-iron bands keeping it shut were old and rusted; they creaked as she flipped it up, and she couldn’t stop the relieved gasp that tore from her throat when she saw Rhi was curled inside, a lump on her forehead.

  “Rhi.” She shook her gently, and then a little harder. Rhi’s eyes fluttered, and then slowly opened. She jerked up, too fast, panicking until she met Carol’s eyes.

  “Carol?” her voice broke. “You—you’re flying!”

  “And I found you,” Carol laughed, lifting her from the trunk. “But you’ve got to rip us a way out of here. It’s getting a little chilly, even for me.”

  The smile Rhi gave Carol was brilliant—shining so bright it lit up the in-between, the lost things vibrating like they knew she’d finally been found. Her hands lifted, her fingers poised, almost delicate as they plucked the atmosphere apart like parting silk curtains. And together, they soared into a new world.

  * * *

  Three weeks later

  “I’M GOING to miss you,” Rhi said, watching Carol zip up her bag and set it on the bunk.

  “I can stay longer if you want me to,” Carol said.

  Rhi smiled. “It would be selfish of me to keep you here.”

  “And a leader can’t be selfish,” Carol added.

  “You taught me that,” Rhi pointed out. “And you’re a commander.”

  “Just a fancy word for a lot of paperwork,” Carol laughed.

  The last three weeks had been like a dream mixed with just a hint of nightmare. Recordings of the battle at the Maiden House had been spread across the planet, thanks to Amadeus and Sona, who was proving to be skilled at not only hacking the major networks, but also at the good kind of propaganda, if there was such a thing. The message of the Resistance was spreading like wildfire—and with the Damarian weapon destroyed, Ansel and Marson gone, and proof of the true Damarian history reaching people’s ears, demands for change were being made, and women were already appearing alone in the streets—even speaking publicly.

  The Council was no longer—with Marson and Ansel’s murders, the more cowardly members had fled, going into hiding, replaced by an interim government appointed by a team headed by Rhi and Sona, and made up of representatives from each continent and string of islands. The old guard would soon be found and tried for their crimes, alongside Miss Egrit and all the workers in the Maiden Houses. The few who remained were trying desperately to hold on to some kind of power—but that would prove impossible after the second week, when the Inhumans on the Forgotten Islands breached the force fields and returned to the continent in full force.

  Rhi and Sona had been waiting for the Inhumans, determined to prevent more bloodshed. The two women and their separate followers, Rhi suspected, would soon just become the people as they moved forward to create a better future, together. For the most part, they’d succeeded—so far.

  She knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She knew there would be violence on both sides. Revolutions weren’t fairytales, and they didn’t happen overnight. They were hard-won. They took time. They caused trouble. And they were worth it. She had to believe that, now that she’d chosen to stay. She had to believe in creating the kind of change that would give everyone on the planet a better life—turning the oppressors’ cruel lie into the honest truth: for the betterment of all.

  “I don’t know how I could’ve done it without you,” Rhi said to Carol.

  “You would’ve figured out a way,” Carol replied, with so much confidence that it warmed her.

  “I’ll never forget you.”

  “Hey now, that makes it sound like I’m leaving and never coming back,” Carol said, wagging her finger at her as they got up and headed out of Rhi’s new rooms toward the hangar bay where Hepzibah’s shuttle was being readied for takeoff. “I said I’d come back next time I was on leave, and I will.”

  “And Amadeus said he’ll come, too,” Rhi added. “There’s a lot of excited talk going round the Hub about Brawn coming back to smash any remaining Council members.”

  “I’m sure he will. And we’ve burned all the Maiden Houses,” Carol said, smiling at the memory. “Hepzibah does have a flair for the dramatic.”

  “Always,” Rhi agreed. They paused at the top of the stairs leading down to the hangar bay. The entire team was waiting for them there, the ship packed and ready.

  But she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to any of them. Her throat burned as Mantis met her eyes, smiling as they embraced.

  “You’re going to do great things here,” Mantis told her. “And you will always have a friend in me, and any help I can give you and your people.”

  “Thank you for caring enough to come find me,” Rhi said, and Mantis cupped her cheek for a moment before letting her go.

  “Don’t forget, intergalactic book club is on the third Thursday of each month, Earth-time,” Amadeus said. “I set your office computer up so you and Umbra can video in.”

  “We’ll be there,” Rhi promised. “And you’ll be back soon?”

  “You’re not done with me yet,” Amadeus promised, and she had to blink back tears.

  “I don’t know how to thank you and Amadeus,” Rhi said to Scott, who clasped her hands in his. “We all owe you two and Jella such a
huge debt for destroying the weapon.”

  “Well, it was kind of easy once we got inside before everyone started shooting,” Scott demurred.

  “There’s nothing easy about a chemical reaction!” Amadeus argued. “I made some very precise calculations and hypotheses to come to the conclusion that—”

  “Shooting the glass orb and making it rain was the way to go?” Scott asked innocently.

  Rhi was trying not to laugh as Hepzibah swept her into a tight hug, and then let her go just as abruptly. “We will meet again,” she told Rhi. “Perhaps I will come to teach the little one,” she nodded over Rhi’s shoulder, where Umbra and Fern were waiting for her. “Some proper skills.”

  “We’d love to have you.”

  “I am a delight,” Hepzibah said blithely, but then she sobered. “You did very well, my friend. I am proud to be able to call you that.”

  Rhi hugged her again, unable to say anything else without crying. The team filed down the stairs, toward the ship, and she turned to Carol, the only one left.

  Rhi swallowed, the lump in her throat making it a challenge. What could she say that could encompass what this woman had done for her and her people? There was just too much, and mere words could never express it.

  “You changed my life,” she began, because she had. Carol had taught her not only what freedom was, but what freedom could be. Her team had shown her joy and unbridled compassion, the kind of strength and unity that the bravest person in the world would envy. And Rhi would carry the lessons and love they’d taught her all the days of her life. “You changed everyone’s lives.”

  “No, Rhi, you did that,” Carol replied. “You reminded me of what I fought for when I was your age—the things I hoped for and believed in. Teamwork. Sisterhood. Freedom. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you crashed into my life.”

  Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as she and Carol embraced.

  “Send me messages whenever you want,” Carol urged. “I want to hear how things are going. And if there’s trouble…”

  “I’ll call Hepzibah first, because she’s got the secret stash of ember bombs,” Rhi finished for her.