Girl Power Omnibus (Gender Swap Superhero Fiction)

by P. T. Dilloway

  An alert sounds to indicate one of these chips has gone offline. It doesn’t take Robin long to determine it’s Starla’s chip. Her first thought is Starla might have gone off-planet as she sometimes does. Looking back through the chip’s log, though, she notes Starla was over Canada when it happened.

  From what she can determine, there’s no reason for this to have happened. There’s no sign of enemy aircraft in the area. No gamma radiation in the area either. Maybe the chip is defective or something caused it to short out.

  Since she has nothing else to do except continue her studies of the robot parts, Robin decides to check it out. First she hurries over to the cabinet where she keeps her uniform. The gray Kevlar alloy bodysuit fits snugly over her body—too snugly, really. She hates how it clings to her breasts, close enough that the outline of her bra is visible. But the lightweight material makes her a lot quicker in fights, which with her size is an advantage she needs. She shakes these thoughts away and then snaps on her utility belt, followed by the cape with its attached hood. The last touch is the black mask to cover the upper half of her face. With that in place, she’s ready to go to work.

  As she’s warming up the jet, she contacts Jasper, who’s upstairs dusting the silver or some such thing. “This shouldn’t take long. Keep dinner waiting.”

  “Of course, Mistress Robin. What would you like the chef to prepare?”

  “I don’t care. Surprise me.”

  “Very well. Good luck, ma’am.”

  “Thanks.”

  A section of the bunker opens to allow her to lift off. Soon enough she’s in the air over Redoubt City. It shouldn’t take more than an hour to reach the spot where she lost the signal.

  Though she knows it’s stupid, she misses Melanie’s chatter from the backseat. It’s so quiet in the jet without Melanie alternately pestering her or throwing up. The latter at least had gotten a little better with some Dramamine, which only gave her more chance for the former. Robin never thought she would actually miss all that jabbering.

  She’s grateful when the alert sounds to indicate she’s in the vicinity where she lost the signal. She scans the area with the jet’s sensors. There’s no sign of anyone alive down here. If Starla is dead, it’ll be hard to spot her in Lake Ontario. Much as she hates it, there’s only one person to call for that.

  “Goddamn it,” Robin grumbles before she turns on the radio.

  ***

  As Robin expected, Mermaid is none too happy to be bothered at home. She’s still not happy when the jet touches down in a rundown industrial park outside San Francisco. Mermaid stomps over to the jet and shouts, “This had better not be a prank or something. I just got Ariel to bed.”

  “Starla doesn’t play pranks. You know that.”

  “I was referring to you.”

  “I don’t play pranks either.”

  “No, I suppose not. You prefer catty one-liners.”

  “Thanks,” Robin says, grimacing at being referred to as “catty.”

  She gets the jet back into the air again. She checks the fuel gauge, but they should have enough for the return trip with some time on station to search for Starla. Apropos of nothing, Mermaid says, “Ariel said her first word. She said, ‘Mama.’ Can you believe it?”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “It won’t be long until she’s walking and paddling all on her own.”

  “Good,” Robin says. It’s amazing how quickly Mermaid turned into one of those annoying mothers who badgers everyone within earshot—or text message shot—with news of her kid. As if Robin really cares what Mermaid’s fish baby does.

  “You could at least pretend to be interested,” Mermaid snaps. “But I guess you’re just a kid. Maybe we should talk about One Direction’s latest tour.”

  “Let’s not.”

  “What do you and Melanie talk about?”

  “Ask her. She does most of the talking.”

  “Oh, I forgot, you’re the butch.” Mermaid says and then snickers.

  “What?”

  “I was thinking how much crap you used to give me for being gay. The tables have turned, haven’t they?”

  “Do you want me to eject you over the Rockies? Try walking back to Pacifica.”

  “Ooh, sorry. Don’t like eating what you dish out, do you?”

  Robin’s fists clench. She thinks about what Dr. Hanover told her during their therapy sessions. She counts to ten and then takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings before, all right?”

  “That’s very big of you.”

  Robin knows this is a pun, but she chooses to let it pass. She needs Mermaid’s help right now. “You think we can talk about the mission?”

  “What about it? How do you even know Starla is missing? Someone report it to the cops?”

  “No. I lost her signal.”

  “Her signal?”

  “I put a tracking device on her. She seemed so distraught after what happened to Dalton I thought she might go rogue or something.”

  “Uh-huh. And you’re sure she didn’t?”

  “I think the Canadian military would be saying something if she had.”

  “What was she even doing in Canada?”

  “She was coming back from that lair of hers.”

  “Oh, that. Yuck. I don’t know why she likes to hang around in the frozen tundra.”

  “You’d rather she picked a rock in the South Pacific?”

  “Very funny. But yes. Or somewhere tropical at least. Why have a vacation home up with the polar bears?”

  “I guess she likes the solitude.”

  “That’s really more your thing, isn’t it?”

  “My vacation home is in the Riviera.”

  “Ooh la la. Have you taken Melanie there yet?”

  “No.”

  “Saving it for the honeymoon?”

  “Goddamn it, that’s enough! I said I was sorry. Why do you have to keep needling me?”

  “There’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

  “I’m sorry I was such a jerk back then. I shouldn’t have been so intolerant of your lifestyle choice. Happy now?’

  “A little.”

  “Good. Now, look, I need you to search Lake Ontario. Talk to the fish or whatever you do to find out if she’s down there.”

  Mermaid’s voice finally turns serious as she asks, “Do you really think someone could have killed her?”

  “It’s not impossible, though I didn’t pick up any gamma rays in the area. As far as we know, that’s her only weakness.”

  “Unless someone found a new one.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  They mercifully don’t say much for the rest of the way. Robin lowers the jet until it’s skimming the surface of the water. This makes it easy enough for Mermaid to dive in. “I’ll let you know what I find,” she says.

  Once Mermaid is safely underwater, Robin pulls up to a safer height. She does a few more scans of the area. She wonders if she should call Velocity Gal, as an FYI if for no other reason. Velocity Gal could search the ground easier, to look for a body.

  With a sigh, Robin turns on the radio. It takes a minute until Velocity Gal’s face comes onto the screen. From the dark circles around her eyes, she probably hasn’t slept since the debacle with the convoy. “What’s up?” Velocity Gal asks.

  “Starla’s missing. Elise and I are checking around Lake Ontario where she disappeared. I thought maybe you could give us a hand to search the ground.”

  “Oh, sure. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  It is literally a couple of minutes before Robin sees the streak of blue-and-silver to indicate Velocity Gal’s approach. She comes to a stop along the shore to wave at the jet. Over the radio she asks, “How much of a radius do you want?”

  “A couple miles at least.”

  “Will do.”

  Then comes the worst part—the waiting. Again Robin wishes for Melanie’s chatter to distract her.

  ***

 
“Well looky here,” Starla hears a rough voice say.

  “Why’s she all dressed up for Halloween?” another voice asks.

  “The hell do I care? Just check to see what she’s got.”

  “She ain’t got no pockets on that suit.”

  “She got to have a purse. Ain’t no girls running around without a purse.”

  “’Less she ain’t got no money or nothing.”

  Starla wants to open her eyes, but she doesn’t have the strength. She doesn’t have strength to do anything at all. She knows she ought to get up, or at least call for help. It’s clear these men are planning to rob her and then perhaps do worse things to her. She has to stop them.

  All she can manage to do is groan. “Christ, she’s wakin’ up.’

  “So what? Kid like this can’t do nothing to you.”

  “Yeah. ‘Less she has a piece hidden in there.”

  “She ain’t got no piece. Christ. Just stand back. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  She feels a rough hand touch her stomach. Then a third voice enters the fray. It’s a woman’s voice shouting, “Leave that poor girl alone!”

  “Look lady—”

  Starla hears a couple of dull thuds. One of the men cries out in pain. “The hell you doing that for lady?”

  “Go on, get out of here this instant! Before I call the authorities.”

  “Fine. This bitch ain’t got nothing on her anyway. Let’s go, Fred.”

  “But—”

  “C’mon! I ain’t goin’ to jail for no little bitch like this.”

  A hand touches Starla’s cheek. “It’s all right, young lady. They won’t hurt you.”

  Starla finally opens her eyes, but there’s not much to see. All she can see is a peach blur surrounded by a silver blur. Squinting helps to bring an old woman’s face into focus. The old woman flashes a smile of yellowed teeth. “There you are. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  Starla tries to speak but can only produce a rough croak. She wants to get to her feet, but she still has no strength. That syringe really did a number on her. Did it paralyze her? Is she going to be crippled and mute for the rest of her life?

  The old woman smiles again. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

  Starla croaks again and then blacks out.

  The next time she wakes up, she feels something damp on her forehead. Through a colossal act of will, she’s able to raise her left arm. Her hand brushes against a washcloth. She swats this away; she hears it land with a moist plop on the floor.

  Her eyes open again, but still she can’t see anything. Is the room dark or has she gone blind? When she brings a hand close to her face she can at least make out pale skin. It must be dark in here. But where is here?

  There’s something soft beneath her, probably a bed. Her left hand fumbles down to pat a thick blanket. It feels too rough to be the one back in her apartment. Maybe she’s in a hospital? Her hand begins another exploration to search for a call button. All she finds is a glass of water that topples over.

  She groans at this; she could have used that water right now—her throat is parched. “Hello?” she says. Her voice sounds like Midnight Spectre’s rasp.

  Starla tries to sit up, but she’s still too weak. The thought of sleep sounds good right now, but first she needs to know if she’s in a safe place. She thinks back to the last time she woke up. Some men had been about to assault her when an old woman had driven them away. Where had the old woman taken her?

  A light snaps on, momentarily blinding Starla. Even when her eyes adjust to the light she can’t see much. The room is mostly a beige blur with a few other colors mixed in here and there. She recognizes the peach-and-silver blur of the old woman. “Well, looks like you’re feeling better,” the old woman says.

  Starla nods slightly.

  “Oh dear, you’ve tipped your water over. I’ll fetch you a new one.”

  “Wait. Where…am…I?”

  “I brought you home. Now that you’re awake, is there someone I should call for you?”

  Starla considers this. She should probably ask the old woman to call Billy, but she doesn’t feel up to explaining this to him. She doesn’t want to call any of the Super Squad for the same reason. All she needs is the old woman to get her a cab and then she can make it the rest of the way on her own.

  She shakes her head. The old woman says, “That’s all right. You’re welcome to stay with me until you get your strength up.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Stay right there and rest. I’ll be back in a jiff with some water.”

  Starla doesn’t have much choice at the moment. She lies back on the pillows for a few minutes. The old woman appears over her with a glass of water. “Open wide.”

  Starla obliges. Cool water trickles down her throat. It takes almost a minute before she’s sated. Now that her throat isn’t so dry, she’s able to say, “Thank you.” Her voice sounds different, a couple octaves higher than it was. With her left hand she touches her left breast; it’s a lot smaller than before. It is still there, which means she isn’t a child, but did the treatment make her younger? “Do you have a mirror?”

  “Yes, of course. Just a second.”

  The old woman shuffles off for a couple of minutes. When she comes back, she holds up a hand mirror. With another colossal effort, Starla is able to snatch it away. She holds it close enough so that by squinting she can see a vaguely familiar face. Her eyes are the same blue as before. Her hair is still black, but now it’s cut raggedly at her shoulders. The rest of her face is thinner and paler except where it’s dotted by freckles.

  “Oh my gosh,” she says. She looks like a kid, but when she squints harder, she makes out a few tiny lines around her eyes. So she’s not a child, but she must be younger than before, perhaps in her early twenties.

  She has to strain again to lift one of her legs. Even with how bad her vision is at present, she can tell her foot is a lot closer than it should be. She drops the mirror onto her nearly-flat chest and then sighs.

  “Are you all right, young lady?”

  Starla shakes her head. Tears come to her eyes as the realization hits: she can’t go back to her old life. Kate, Billy, and everyone at the Star might have been able to overlook the similarities between Starla Marsh and Apex Girl, but they’ll certainly notice that Starla Marsh has shrunk about a foot. Billy’s friends especially will notice that she’s gone down a couple of cup sizes. How is she supposed to explain this to them?

  The old woman pats Starla’s shoulder. “It’s all right, dear. I deal with orphans and runaways all the time. My name’s Greta Hersch. I run the St. Jerome shelter by the waterfront. Have you ever been there?”

  Starla nods. As Apex Man she had visited the homeless shelters in the city a few times a year to lend a hand and on one occasion to break up a riot when food supplies ran low. She doesn’t remember Greta, but it had probably been a few years ago.

  “Now, young lady, what’s your name?”

  “Star—” Starla stops herself. She can’t use her real name here. “Star Smith.”

  “Oh, I see.” It’s clear the old woman doesn’t believe her, but she doesn’t press the issue. “Well, Star, are you feeling up to a little supper? I have some chicken noodle soup down on the stove.”

  Starla nods, which at the moment is easier than talking. The old woman pats her on the knee. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers and then leans back on the pillows again to rest.

  Chapter 6

  With Colonel Storm still in intensive care, a Major Hall is the liaison to the Super Squad. Robin lets Velocity Gal take the lead in presenting their findings—or lack of findings. “So you’re saying Apex Girl has gone off the grid?” he asks.

  “That’s right,” Velocity Gal answers.

  “And what are we supposed to do about it?”

  “Find her,” Robin snaps.

  “Just how am I supposed to do that?”

 
; “Use all that fancy technology you pay trillions of dollars for.”

  Hall leans back in his chair. He has the well-groomed look of someone who has never spent more than a day in the field. Storm really isn’t much good at picking subordinates, Robin muses. “You said your own tracking device lost her. You think we have anything better to use?”

  “Do you?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Major, please, this is serious. Starla wouldn’t disappear. She’s too responsible for that. You know how serious she takes her job,” Velocity Gal says.

  “I’m not hearing a course of action,” Hall says.

  Robin has a few suggestions for Hall, but knows better than to say anything. Velocity Gal answers, “Just put the word out. Maybe someone has seen her.”

  “How do we know she’s not at home right now?”

  “We already checked there,” Robin says. “We called the Star too. Turns out she left her office—with the door locked. Someone from maintenance had to open it. She hasn’t called in to work either. You think that sounds like normal behavior for her?”

  ‘“Normal behavior’ with you people is debatable.”

  ‘“You people?’” Mermaid repeats with a sneer.

  “Look, after what happened to the colonel and that convoy, you can’t expect us to be in much of a mood for doing you favors.”

  “Seems like we’ve done you plenty of favors,” Robin says.

  Hall shrugs this off. “I’ll put the word out to our assets around the world. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s all I can do at the moment. If you bring me some proof to indicate something more serious has happened, then we can take further action.”

  “Thanks for nothing,” Robin grumbles. She’s the first one to leave the office. The others are right behind her.

  “So what now?” Velocity Gal asks.

  “We’ll keep looking. Can you run up to that hideout of hers?”

  “I could, but it wouldn’t do any good. She’s the only one who can get inside. It’s coded to her fingerprints and DNA.”

  “And you’re sure she isn’t in the lake?” Robin asks Mermaid.