Girl Power

by PT Dilloway

  “How long is he going to stay?”

  “Probably the duration. Dalton thinks it will help me adjust to have someone I care about here. I don’t think I want him around if he’s going to act like my father, though.”

  From the key words in the last two sentences, Allison is fairly certain what Robin is up to. With the cell phone, Allison can contact Sally and Jenny to let them know she’s still alive and unharmed—relatively speaking. She slips the phone into her pocket while keeping her hand under the table. She’ll have to find a quiet place where she can use it later. It’ll probably have to be the bathroom, unless they’re watching that too.

  “Thanks,” Allison mouths to Robin. Her back goes stiff when a door opens. It’s not Major Dalton or a squad of soldiers to arrest them, just Ms. Cash and a fat old woman.

  Ms. Cash claps her hands. “Allison, wonderful to see you again. I think now’s the perfect chance for some one-on-one time.”

  “Sure,” Allison mumbles while Robin rolls her eyes. Allison hopes she comes out of it with a little less radical change than the teenager.

  ***

  The biggest problem during her makeover is to keep the phone hidden. Allison knows better than to let Ms. Cash see it or else word will certainly get back to Major Dalton. The phone seems to be burning a hole in the pocket of her sweatpants as Ms. Ryan works on styling Allison’s hair. Any second she expects Dalton and an escort to run in here.

  What would she do if they did? Would she hand the phone over to them without a fight? She hasn’t tried her speed out yet as a woman, but she’s certain it’s the same as before. If it comes to a fight, she should be able to take Dalton and company out.

  What then? Dalton already said she’d rather kill them all—including everyone in the base—than let anyone escape. Allison has little doubt Dalton will carry through on that threat. But maybe she could delay them long enough to get a message off to Sally—

  “All finished now, sweetheart. Have a look.”

  Ms. Ryan holds up a mirror to Allison’s face. Her brown locks are wavier and cut to about shoulder length now. Allison has to admit it makes her look a bit more grown up than before. “It’s very nice. Thank you.”

  “And I’ve got an outfit that I think will be perfect for you,” Ms. Cash says and claps her hands. After what Ms. Cash picked out for Robin, Allison cringes in anticipation of something horrible.

  What Ms. Cash has laid out is a blue-and-white striped summer dress with a matching blue cardigan sweater. There’s a pair of shoes with white straps and two or three inch heels that make Allison’s stomach churn. How is she supposed to run in those things? “Why don’t you go try them on?” Ms. Cash suggests.

  “All right,” Allison mumbles. She takes the clothes into a supply closet that’s the right size for a makeshift changing room.

  She looks around for any hidden cameras but doesn’t see anything. They wouldn’t bug a supply room, would they? She decides to risk it. She takes the phone from her pocket. It looks like an ordinary BlackBerry, but knowing Midnight Spectre it’s certain to have a few bells and whistles not in the original specs.

  Allison doesn’t waste any time to type in Sally’s number. She knows she can’t call, not as a woman and not with two other women in the next room. Instead, she types out a simple message: I’m OK. Be Home Soon. Love you. Kiss Jenny 4 Me. Her shorter, thinner fingers fumble with the keys a bit, but after a minute she hits the send button.

  It’s not a moment too soon, as someone knocks on the door. Ms. Cash asks, “Do you need any help, sweetie?”

  “I’m fine,” Allison says.

  She soon discovers one problem with her new clothes: there aren’t any pockets. There’s nowhere for her to put the cell phone unless she tries to stuff it down her bra. In a panic she looks around the supply room. There’s a bucket of sawdust at her feet. She drops the phone into the bucket and then scoops sawdust around it until it’s hidden. Unless anyone has an accident, it should be safe there until she or Robin can retrieve it.

  Allison slips on the shoes and then throws open the door. She stumbles in the heels, but Cash catches her before she falls. “Maybe these shoes are a bit much for you,” Cash says. “We’ll have to give you some practice in how to wear them.”

  “Great,” Allison mutters.

  “How do you like the rest of it?”

  Cash holds up the mirror. Allison studies her reflection again. Like her hair, the clothes make her seem older, more like a woman in her thirties. All she needs is a minivan to look like a typical soccer mom. Her cheeks warm as she thinks of driving Jenny to soccer games when her daughter is old enough. How will she explain to Jenny that she has two mommies now?

  She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Cash wipes at her eyes. “What’s wrong, sweetie? If it’s the clothes, we can find something else—”

  “No, it’s fine. I like them. I was just thinking of something else.”

  “How about we take a little break? Then you can practice in your new shoes.”

  “Sure.” Cash helps Allison over to a chair, where she wipes at her eyes as she thinks of the future.

  Chapter 8

  Starla is the last to emerge from the quarantine. She accepts the grief she gets from Elise and Robin about the duration of her period—an entire week! Through that week she’s lost seemingly gallons of blood, endured cramps that felt as if someone were squeezing a vise around her limbs, and had her entire body feel bloated to the point she couldn’t drag herself to the toilet.

  Allison and Elise witnessed much of that, especially Elise, who only left the room two days earlier. No one knows about the much more serious problem: the surge of hormones has made Starla’s grasp on her powers extremely tenuous.

  It’s not something any of the others can understand. Robin, like Dalton and the rest of the soldiers, doesn’t have any superpowers. Elise and Alison’s powers aren’t nearly on the same magnitude as Starla’s; their powers aren’t so destructive. All it takes is one slip-up and a gush of fire could spurt from Starla’s mouth to turn someone into ashes. If she’s not careful when she opens a door, she might tear it from its hinges.

  She’s dealt with this problem before. Back when Stan Shaw turned twelve and began to enter puberty, the powers started to manifest themselves. First came the super strength, which at the time he thought was great—until he threw a bale of hay through the front window of the house. That netted him a week’s grounding, plus the loss of his allowance for months.

  That was only the beginning. The other powers came along, each with its own dangers. He’d been milking a cow when it began to moo plaintively. Only then did he discover he and the cow were suspended in the air. The infrared vision kept him home from school for two weeks as he couldn’t see more than multi-colored blobs in his vision.

  The fire breath was the worst. It came in the middle of the night. He thought it must be a really bad case of indigestion from the way his throat burned. He opened his mouth to call for Ma and Pa only to have a stream leap out like a blowtorch—or a dragon. Stan had put the fire out by creating a mighty wind with his super strength and a blanket. Then he ran into the night, where he wound up burning down an entire field of wheat. That cost him a year’s allowance.

  Now it’s happening again. The first night she’d woke up with the same burning in her throat. She knew enough to keep her mouth closed this time. She didn’t open it until she managed to get into the shower, where she ran the water to alleviate any damage. When she hasn’t been able to get to the shower, she tries to let it out a little at a time into a bedpan, like releasing the steam from an overheated boiler.

  She needs to get out of here. She needs to get to the Crystal Lair, her hidden fortress. It’s located in the Arctic Circle, where her fire breath won’t do more than melt the snow. And there she can look over the records from her birth world. Her people might have some way to change
them back.

  She staggers into the mess hall, her infrared vision showing six humans in the room. It’s hard to tell who’s who until she gets control of it. The room comes into focus so she can retrieve a tray of food and glass of water. Except for the sweat plastering hair to her forehead, she should look normal enough to them. It’s important not to let them know what a sorry state she’s in; they’ll overreact, especially Dalton. They’ll lock her up in a gamma-saturated room so she can’t hurt anyone. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.

  Elise and Robin make their little jokes at her expense. Allison studies her but doesn’t say anything. She probably has some inkling of what’s going on; she is a biochemist who’s done extensive research on superhuman physiology. She looks down at her tray and then shovels in eggs like there’s no tomorrow.

  Starla’s careful not to open her mouth too wide as she eats or drinks, lest a stream of fire melt the whole table. The water does little to cool the fire in her throat. She can feel the temperature rise; if she had a temperature gauge it would probably be deep in the red.

  Major Dalton studies her face. “Are you feeling all right, Starla?”

  “Just a little nauseous still.”

  “Maybe you should get back to bed.”

  “She’s already been in bed for seven days,” Elise points out.

  “It’s a super period,” Robin says. Her new hairdo and clothes certainly haven’t improved her disposition; nor would Starla expect them to. Robin Holloway is the type of person immune to happiness. She’s spent a lifetime isolating herself from those feelings. The little—

  Starla’s IR vision kicks in again. She can feel her entire body warming, as if she’s a spaceship dropping through the atmosphere. “I’m going to take a shower,” she says.

  She barely makes it to the shower and gets the cold water on when the fire erupts, reducing a soap dish and the soap inside to a puddle. The rest of the bathroom seems fine, but she can’t spend her entire life in a shower.

  A hand touches her shoulder. Allison says, “You can’t control it, can you?”

  “Not really.”

  “You need to tell Dalton. They might be able to treat you.”

  “How? Dousing me with gamma rays?”

  “There are hormone treatments we can try. They might even you out enough to limit the symptoms.”

  “I can manage it. Like I did last time.” Starla takes Allison’s hand. “You can’t tell Dalton. Please. I can handle it on my own.”

  Allison stares at her for a long moment and then nods. “I won’t tell her for now, but if it keeps up or gets worse then we have to talk with her.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll go fetch you some dry clothes. Back in a jiff.” Starla hasn’t even pushed the wet hair away from her face before Allison is back with a pile of clothes.

  “Show off.”

  Before Allison can say anything, the alarms sound.

  ***

  Allison is at the doors of the situation room a full minute before Starla. “They won’t let us in there,” Allison says. She gestures to two guards armed with machine guns.

  “Major Dalton says this is a restricted area,” one guard says. “You’re to return to your quarters until further instructions are given.”

  “We have a right to know what’s going on,” Allison says.

  “Just push their asses out of the way,” Robin says from behind them. Her and Elise stand there, not bickering amongst themselves for once.

  Starla turns to the guards and straightens to her full height. It’s a few inches shorter, but still taller than both men. “I think you’d better move aside, son.”

  “Major Dalton says—”

  Starla grabs each man by the shoulder and then tosses them behind her. She hears them hit the floor, their weapons clattering away. She worries she might have hurt them, but there’s no time to check. She rears back and is about to smash the door open when Robin gets in front of her. She holds up a key card. “Take it easy. Those doors are expensive.”

  Robin waves a card over the lock and the door parts for them. Inside is a room lined with computers and very serious men and women to operate them. A map of the world is displayed on a monitor the size of a wall in the mess hall. Red dots flash in Atomic City, Focal City, and a spot in the Pacific about two hundred miles east of the Philippines—near the underwater metropolis of Pacifica.

  Major Dalton stands on a raised platform, surrounded by a cluster of harried technicians. She turns to glare at them. “What are you four doing in here? This is a restricted area.”

  “You really think we were going to sit around while the world goes to shit?” Robin says. Despite her diminutive size, she stomps up the stairs with the authority of a much larger person. She gestures to the IMAX-sized screen. “And things are going to shit, aren’t they?”

  “Listen, little girl, I don’t have time for you right now—”

  “Have you got time for me?” Starla says. She stands inches in front of the major; one stream of fire would instantly cremate Dalton.

  “And us,” Elise seconds. “What are those dots?”

  “Threat alerts,” Robin says. While Starla has been intimidating Dalton, Robin has seized control of a terminal. “Let’s see, we’ve got Killer Whale hitting Pacifica, Inertia is going after Focal City, and our old pal Rad Geiger is attacking Atomic City.”

  “It’s a coordinated attack,” Allison says.

  “Looks like you have a leak, Major,” Robin says.

  “If we have a leak, maybe it’s because someone brought in an illegal cell phone and used it,” Dalton snaps.

  From the way Allison’s cheeks turn red, Starla knows it must be her. Starla grabs hold of Dalton’s shoulder. “None of us would tip off the enemy. It’s probably someone in your organization.”

  “I don’t care who it is. We got to get out there,” Elise says. “Those are my people being attacked!”

  “We’re dispatching assets to deal with the situations,” Dalton says.

  “Your assets can’t stop Killer Whale! Only I can!”

  “I thought you didn’t even like being king of Pacifica,” Robin says, never one not to poke the sleeping dog.

  “I don’t have to like them. They’re my responsibility.”

  “And Focal City is mine. Sally and Jenny are there,” Allison says. “I can’t stand here and do nothing.”

  “Well Major?” Starla says. “How about it?”

  Dalton looks around the room. She sighs and then nods. “Follow me.”

  ***

  Starla expects Dalton to lead them into a trap similar to what they stumbled into on Roboto’s island. The major leads them down a bunch of winding corridors, far enough underground that Starla can feel the air getting warmer; or maybe it’s just her fire breath ready to blow again.

  They come to a door that looks like a bank vault. Two more guards are in front of it. Major Dalton motions to them. “At ease, boys. We’re going to Protocol Pink.”

  “Yes, sir,” the guards say. One punches a code into a keypad next to the door. The vault yawns open. Starla braces for a burst of gamma radiation to weaken her. But there’s nothing like that. Inside, she sees her costume.

  At least a variation of her costume. The red shorts—the “outer-underwear” as Midnight Spectre called them—and yellow tights are gone in favor of a short red skirt. Where Apex Man’s logo—a red diamond with a yellow ‘A’ in the center—was has been cut out.

  Allison’s uniform is the same except the colors are reversed from a silver chest with blue accents to a blue chest with silver accents. Like Starla’s costume, the logo in the center has been cut out. And instead of a cowl there’s a blue domino mask similar to what Apex Man wore.

  Elise’s uniform has undergone a complete transformation. The green tunic and tights are gone. In its place is a purple tunic with black leggings, both made of slick waterpro
of fabric. A black domino mask completes the ensemble.

  “Where’s my uniform?” Robin asks, her voice quivering.

  “Sorry, kid. You know I’ve never supported kid sidekicks.”

  “I’m not anyone’s sidekick!” Robin shrieks. “Get me my goddamned uniform!”

  “I’m sorry, Rob. This is for your own good.” Dalton snaps her fingers. The two guards seize Robin by the arms. She flails around, but they’re too big and strong for her. “You see? You can’t even beat two guards. What do you think you’re going to do against Geiger or Inertia?”

  “I can’t stay here. It’s not fair!”

  Dalton puts a hand on Robin’s shoulder. The girl shakes it away, fury blazing in her gray eyes despite the tears in them. “You can stay with me in the command center and help coordinate.”

  “I’m not one of your stupid button pushing drones.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re one of the best computer hackers on the planet. That might come in handy.”

  “Don’t try to patronize me,” Robin growls.

  “It’s that or you go back to your quarters to cry on Jasper’s shoulder.”

  “Fine.”

  “To which one?”

  “I’ll go to my room.”

  Dalton nods to the guards. They start to lead Robin away. “Is that really necessary?” Allison asks. “Rob’s always been a key part of the team. He’s saved us more times than I can count.”

  Elise snorts at this. “Maybe he did, but look at her. Killer Whale would break her like a matchstick.”

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Dalton says.

  While everyone else has been arguing, Starla has slipped into her uniform. The skirt barely covers her panties. The missing logo exposes a fair amount of her cleavage. The worst though are the boots with their six-inch spike heels. “I can’t walk in these,” she says.

  “And I sure as hell can’t run in them,” Allison says. She has an almost identical pair of high-heeled boots, except hers are white. She gestures to the mask too. “And my hair is going to be whipping all over the place like this.”

  “Just deal with it,” Elise snaps. She’s got her uniform on, the purple top fitting snugly to the curves of her body to the point that her nipples are visible. She glides towards the door in her black high-heeled boots. “Come on, ladies, let’s go save the world.”