by Tess Sharpe
“Brilliant,” Carol finished, as he nodded. “And must have taken incredible self-discipline, especially for a child.”
“It’s the ultimate long con,” he said. “I think I might have more in common personality-wise with Rhi than you two.”
“I can be very rebellious,” Mantis put in. “Carol’s the one who takes orders.”
“I took orders. Now I give them,” Carol corrected, pointing at Mantis with her final sandwich, a turkey and bacon, to make her point. “But I appreciate you joining our crew, Scott.”
“Always happy to help,” he smiled. “Plus, if I did case the Louvre like I was tempted to do, it’d take years before I could find a fence for the paintings.”
Carol and Mantis exchanged a grin. “I can just picture you carrying the Mona Lisa out of there, Ant-Man style,” Carol laughed. “It would look like she was walking out on her own.”
“The security guards’ confusion would be half the reason to do it,” Scott said cheerfully, then spotted something in the distance. “Hey, ixnay on the thieving talk. My kid’s coming.”
Carol looked over her shoulder, waving at Cassie.
“Hi, everybody!” the girl called out, practically skipping over to the table.
“Take my seat, Cassie,” Carol said, getting up. “Your dad’s been telling me all about you getting into the teen retreat. That’s a huge step. Congrats.”
“Thanks, Carol. I’m excited.”
“Rhi should be released from the med center tomorrow morning at nine,” Carol said. “I’ll meet you both in the hangar bay after I get her?”
“I’ll be there,” Mantis said.
“Me too,” Scott added.
“Don’t give your dad too much trouble tonight,” Carol told Cassie. “He’s agreed to go on a mission with me while you’re off having fun, and I need him well rested.”
“Wow, Dad,” Cassie said as Carol walked away. “A mission with Captain Marvel? You’re moving up in the world.”
“It’s a good cause,” he said, not wanting to get into any nitty-gritty details. “But it’s top secret, so don’t try to pry it out of me. I’ll give you the rundown when I get back.” He didn’t want to put a nightmare world of misogyny and oppression into his teenager’s head when she was about to spend the summer celebrating her special abilities. “Hey, why not go get something to eat before you leave?” he urged her, and she smiled and trotted back to her friends.
When Cassie was out of earshot, he turned back to Mantis.
“This is gonna be a tough one, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Mantis said simply.
He supposed that empaths had no use for sugarcoating things.
9
WHEN THE doctors released Rhi that morning, Carol had been waiting with a huge bag of clothes she’d had an assistant round up the day before. For years, Rhi had worn nothing but the gray uniforms they’d been given in the Maiden House. The wool was itchy and sweltering in the summer under the heat of the twin suns, and too thin in the winter when the suns peeked out for only a handful of hours a day.
Now, standing in a side room in the Triskelion, she stared at the huge bag bursting with color, soft and stretchy, delicate and sturdy, for cool weather and warm. For a long moment, alone with the dazzling array before her, she felt almost frozen. How to choose?
She discarded a dress, even though it was a pretty purple. She was done with dresses. Maybe forever. Could she do that—never wear one again? The thought sent a thrill skipping inside her like a stone across a quiet pond.
She pulled on a pair of black pants and buttoned up a shirt with green arrows stamped all over it. When she stepped in front of the mirror, the girl who looked back was like a stranger and an unveiling all at once.
She looked steady. Sure. Finally settled in her skin.
Was this what she would’ve looked like—been like—if they hadn’t ended up on Damaria… if they hadn’t been forced to leave at all? If she’d grown up a girl free to make her own choices?
There were rules in Attilan, too. She had to remind herself of that. Much of it may have been better than Damaria, and her genetics may have made her Inhuman, but her heart? That was a different story.
There was nowhere to fit and nowhere to go. But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to focus on only the first part of her plan: getting everyone out. She’d worry about where they’d go after she got Alestra and Zeke and Umbra and the rest of her friends off Damaria, away from the Keepers.
There was a light knock on the door. Rhi jumped at the strangeness of someone waiting for her permission, and stumbled over the words, “Come in,” as if she’d never said them before.
Carol stuck her head in. “Oh, good—you found something that fits.”
“I like the green.” It reminded her of Umbra’s eyes. Just the thought of her sent a pang wrenching through Rhi that she fought to contain. She could almost feel the warmth of Umbra’s ID disc resting against the others on the chain around her neck, as if she were calling out to her, Find me, save me, love me.
She would if it was the last thing she ever did.
“Are you hungry?” Carol asked. “Last night, I asked a friend to join us on our little mission. I’d like to introduce you to him over breakfast.”
“All right,” Rhi said cautiously.
“Our engineers have been going through your ship,” Carol said as they made their way down the long white corridor of the med center and took an elevator up three floors. “I’m assuming, since the Damarians are all about cloaking their planet, that we should take it rather than one of our own?”
“They shoot any ship that isn’t theirs out of the sky,” Rhi said. “It was the first standing order for the military after our arrival. They weren’t going to make the same mistake of leaving any survivors again.”
“Any idea of the size and range of the military?”
Rhi shook her head. “When I was taken places, it was mostly to find water. Half of the planet—most of their farmlands—was suffering from drought. Until Umbra and I came along.”
“That’s one of your friends?”
Rhi hesitated. Should she say—was it allowed here?
“Yes, one of my friends,” she said, even though Umbra was so much more than that. But she had to be careful. One misstep, one wrong revelation, and maybe they wouldn’t help her anymore. Then what? She couldn’t trust anyone but her friends and Zeke even if she wanted to.
Surprisingly though, Rhi did want to. She’d never dreamed of meeting anyone like Carol Danvers. Captain Marvel… that’s what one of the doctors had called her. And she was a marvel, a woman so powerful she didn’t ever flinch, a woman who spoke boldly, who carried herself like she knew all of herself, and was strong enough to learn from her mistakes. A woman of power, moving through the galaxy, unfettered and proud.
What would it be like, to be strong like that? To trust yourself like that?
“Umbra can manipulate water,” Rhi explained as Carol held open the elevator door. They walked through the lobby and down a long corridor. “So they’d send us out, me to find the water, Umbra to bring it to the surface for the crops. Now there’s an entire continent that’s green and fertile because of us—but I wish I’d let them starve.” And then, immediately, shame flashing in her, she added, “No, I don’t. There are children… they’re innocent. And the Damarian women… most of them are innocent, too.”
“Societies set up to favor the few—they’re always the worst on the innocent,” Carol said, stopping at a door marked with a right-pointing arrow and the words HANGAR BAY. She pulled it open to a burst of excited chatter from below. Her footsteps clanging against the metal, adding to the din, Rhi followed her into the vast room onto a metal deck that overlooked the bay. She stared down at the group of teenagers and adults who were talking together. One girl said something to another, who laughed, waggling her fingers, causing her friend’s pigtails to fly up like an invisible hand had flicked them.
Rhi’
s own hands closed around the railing of the deck as she took in the scene, entranced, emboldened, unbearably excited at the sight. It was so carefree. One girl down there who couldn’t be older than Mazz was floating, three feet in the air, while her mother rummaged through her bag and tucked some extra snacks inside.
“Where are they going?” She was suddenly nervous, struck by the realization that the last time she’d seen this many families together, half of them, including hers, were slaughtered. She had to dig her nails into the railing to remind herself that it couldn’t happen here—could it? She looked up at Carol.
“They’re leaving for a retreat where teens go to learn from heroes how to use their powers. I’ve taught the ‘How to properly maneuver around skyscrapers during a high-speed air chase’ class a few times myself.” She grinned at Rhi, who offered a tentative smile and looked down at the group again, mesmerized.
Their happiness and ease with each other seemed so strange. The adults milling around weren’t watching the girls with the keen surveillance she was accustomed to. Instead, they were relaxed—smiling, laughing, and chatting with them, as if the girls were… people.
She couldn’t remember anyone on Damaria other than Zeke and her friends who had treated her like a person. That’s what living in the Maiden House did to you: It stripped you of yourself and then ground you down until you were only a power. Not a person.
She let the discs on the silver chain looped around her neck slip through her fingers, the clicks of the metal against each other even more comforting than the songs Umbra used to sing to help her sleep after the nightmares woke her up, screaming.
An alarm sounded, bringing her attention back to the present. One of the doors of the hangar bay opened, revealing a waiting bus. The milling parents began the hugging and the goodbyes, and the tightness grew in her chest as the kids lined up, still all smiles, to board.
She wanted to blurt it out, the desperate question on her lips: They’re not going to hurt them, are they? A knee-jerk reaction, born from a life lived too long under the Keepers’ iron grip.
She pushed it down, telling herself to hush. Things were different here. She had hope now, real hope—she couldn’t be silly; she couldn’t be weak. She was smarter than that… smart and strong. Her mother’s last words echoed in her mind, as they had so many times before through the years: She was someone—something.
And she was going to go back and she was going to free her friends, even if she had to rip a hole large enough to throw the whole stinking planet in, like garbage.
But that was the needling, terrible thing: She could say she had no home, but what she had told Carol was the truth—she and Umbra had salvaged an entire continent that was now green and fertile. What was once a desert was now flourishing because of what they could do with their powers, together. It had been the first time in her captivity that she’d felt good about what she was forced to do. She could still feel her heels sinking into the once-parched soil, how it turned rich and dark as Umbra pulled water to the surface, and soon after, how the new blades of wheat had brushed against her skin like a greeting. Looking at Umbra across the fallow fields turned fruitful, she had understood not only the pride of what her power could generate, but for the first time, what the word home meant.
It was hard not to feel attached to that place, that land gone green because of one girl with a smile brighter than both suns and the other who was too prickly for anyone but her. Because when Rhi thought of home, she thought of that place, of Umbra, and of what could be… if things were different.
She looked down at the hangar door. The last girl was about to board the bus, and Rhi watched as a red-haired man bent down to say something to her, enveloping her in a long hug.
“Come on,” Carol said, and Rhi followed her down the deck stairs toward the bus.
“Now, what do we do if there’s a crisis?” the man was asking his daughter.
“Stop, drop, and roll?” she answered, flashing a cheeky smile at him.
“C’mon, kid, serious time,” he said. “You’re gonna be gone for a few weeks. I worry.”
“Dad, I’ll be fine,” she said. “Literally everyone on the retreat has powers. It’s totally safe. Now, I kind of need to get on the bus. They’re waiting.”
“Oh, sweet summer child,” he sighed. “So young… so innocent. The reason I’m concerned is because everyone has powers. And teenage hormones. Any practical adult knows that can be a dangerous combination.” He gave an exaggerated shudder, making his daughter—and Carol—laugh, while Rhi just stared.
“Give me another hug,” she ordered, throwing her arms around her dad and squeezing hard. “Okay. Hug over,” she declared, pushing him away gently.
“I love you,” he said.
“Love you too. Now I really gotta go. Have fun dealing with him, Captain!” she called over her shoulder at Carol, clambering up the steps and disappearing into the bus. With a hiss and grinding gears, the bus took off, rumbling out of the parking area toward the road.
“You tearing up there?” Carol asked the man teasingly.
“I am forever wrapped around that kid’s finger,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t tell her, though.”
“I think she knows, Scott.”
He sighed. “Probably.” He smiled at Rhi and put out his hand. “You must be Rhi. I’m Scott Lang.”
“Also known as Ant-Man,” Carol added.
“Ant-Man?” Rhi echoed, shaking his hand gingerly, unused to contact with a friendly male.
“He’s got shrinking powers.”
“Really, that’s all you’re gonna offer? Trust me, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” Scott said. “What would you say if I said ‘She’s got laser arms’?”
“You have laser arms?” Rhi’s eyes widened, staring at Carol with awe. Was that what she had shown her in the hospital room, when the light crackled along her fingers?
“I do not have laser arms,” Carol replied. “I just absorb and manipulate energy in ways that a full human cannot.”
“Wait—are you not fully human?” Rhi’s face lit up in astonishment.
“Have you explained anything to the poor girl?” Scott asked. “Rhi, it’s clearly my duty to fill you in on the important details, origin stories, and all the good gossip.”
“Oh my God,” Carol groaned. “It’s gonna be like Sweet Valley High.”
“I don’t know what that is.” Rhi was trying to follow their conversation, confused but intrigued at the casual banter.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure Scott will have you reading them in no time.”
“Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield have a lot to teach us all,” Scott pointed out as Carol laughed, shaking her head.
“Let’s go grab some grub.”
She led them out of the hangar deck, trading good-natured barbs back and forth with Scott the entire way. Rhi tried not to let it show, how odd it seemed that the two of them, man and woman, were… friends, and even colleagues. And she was frankly stunned at the fact that Carol had apparently fought side by side with Scott as an equal… as a commander.
Mantis was waiting for them in the cafeteria, where the crush of diners made Rhi nervous. There were so many people—talking, walking around, sitting, eating, all unhampered by implants or heat gloves. Here, you could just open the doors. No heat scanners. No places restricted only to those who held the Flame.
“Why don’t you sit down with Mantis? I’ll bring you a little bit of everything,” Carol offered, taking in Rhi’s pale face as she scanned their surroundings.
Rhi nodded, relief rising inside her as she chose a chair across the table from Mantis.
“Morning.”
“Hi, Rhi. How did you sleep?” Mantis asked.
“Fine. I mean, you were there,” the girl pointed out. When she awoke, the first thing she’d seen was Mantis, sitting in the chair across the room. Instead of startling Rhi, her presence was somehow comforting. When you looked in her eyes, you felt like you were
stepping into somewhere safe and warm, where nothing would hurt anymore—a very strange feeling for Rhi.
“I didn’t want you to wake in the night alone,” Mantis said.
“I’m used to being alone.”
“But you aren’t anymore.”
Rhi was absorbing the impact of that statement when Scott’s cheerful voice broke through the moment, and Mantis’s expression shifted from serious to smiles in a heartbeat.
“Okay,” he called out like a carnival barker. “Here comes the smorgasbord: We’ve got pancakes. We’ve got eggs. We’ve got bacon and sausage. We’ve got fruit salad. And Carol thought it might be a bit wild, but I threw in a cherry Danish, just for our new comrade.”
He set the tray down in front of Rhi with a flourish and a grin, and her tiny “Thank you” was just a shadow of the tide of emotion that rushed through her. Comrade… she liked the sound of that.
“I did approve of the four kinds of syrup Scott suggested,” Carol said, taking a seat next to Rhi while Scott took one next to Mantis.
“It all looks very good,” Rhi said, stabbing her fork into the mound of fluffy yellow eggs.
The table fell silent as food became their first concern. Rhi was stunned. The taste of maple syrup was like reaching out on a foggy morning to grab something you knew was there, but couldn’t quite grasp. Her tongue remembered it, but her mind couldn’t place it—the taste was attached to a memory buried too deep in the past.
“I stopped to check on the ship this morning,” Mantis said, after she’d finished her meal. “They’ve repaired most of the exterior damage already, but they can’t seem to get it to turn on to run diagnostics, no matter what they do.”
“They won’t be able to, not without heat gloves,” Rhi explained. “The Keepers—men who hold the Flame—have an elevated body temperature. All Damarian ships are heat-activated. Just like all Damarian buildings. And vehicles. And doors.”
“So if you don’t have fire powers or these gloves, you can’t even open a door?” Scott asked.
