The StarGod meant a lot to Corina Kyle. It probably was significant to many people, considering it docked on a bit of planetoid smack dab in the middle of major shipping lanes. Part bar, diner, and rest stop; all sorts came through. People got married here. When she graduated from school and left home, she celebrated here. At this place, she met Frank Horace, Captain of the bucket of bolts she called home. Bet him a ride in his cargo hold that she knew what was wrong with his Bleedengine and could fix it. A ride to the next port became a permanent spot on a crew of four. The ship was known as Clancy’s Iron Lung; their niche: they completed jobs most other units shied away from.
Tonight, Iron Lung’s crew aimed to celebrate. Horace, the Captain; Mia, the pilot; Jameis, the engineer; and Corina all sat at a corner booth in the restaurant section and were toasting one another for the eleventh time. They successfully delivered crates of food and medicine to a human colony amid a terrible and unusually long solar storm wreaking havoc gravitationally. Horace accepted it because of Corina. She was really handy; she had this knack for pulling off impossible things. Corina was an OH, a fancy term for people with supernatural abilities. Iron Lung’s crew accepted her for that; she didn’t prefer to advertise it. They were like her new family, and she grew comfortable using them to help out.
So thanks to her, they made a cool, clean Billion Credits, and Horace demanded an epic celebration. Corina suggested the StarGod; she had just turned 20 last week and wanted to celebrate that too. Mia and Jameis took that moment to remember they had gifts for her but got caught up in all the excitement and forgot. Corina almost cried, never expecting that. She tried keeping things at arm’s length but so often failed. She felt so guilty, too; they were open with her and loved her, but she still kept so much of her life secret. After the 5th toast, Corina decided enough was enough.
“I don’t believe you,” came from Horace. He was in his mid-40s and had dark skin that contrasted heavily with the super short white curls that rested atop his dome.
“Is it that far-fetched,” Corina asked, swaying slightly. “Considering what you’ve seen me do?” She knew the alcohol was urging her forward with this but didn’t care. They’d flown together for the last two Solstan years; they trusted her, and she trusted them. They did a lot of good, helping people who needed it or just bringing them food. They didn’t feel the need to brag about it either, unlike a certain someone.
“So you’re Captain Steel’s little sister?” that came from Mai; she had hooded eyes, bronze skin, and short-cropped orange hair; Corina thought she was beautiful. Captain Steel was the professional nom de guerre of Michael Masterson, a man who was quite possibly the most famous human alive. He was also an OH and was at least ten years her elder, but they were mostly close. They both equal parts loved and annoyed each other; it was what it was.
“I thought he had a brother?”
“He did,” Corina replied while staring at Mai with raised and scrunched-up eyebrows. Mai got the picture. Captain Steel was such a well-known name it didn’t shock Corina people knew at least that much about his extended family.
“I’m sorry,” Mai stammered out. “I didn’t mean to.”
“You’re fine,” Corina offered while polishing off her 13th. She burped heartily, and the table laughed. After that died down, Corina said: “I never publically transitioned, so not shocked.”
OH’s were nominally popular amongst the Bubble, partially due to her brother. He had chosen to use his abilities for public acts of heroism and other works. He was a mercenary in many ways, except he didn’t take money; the publicity was currency enough. So if you needed help, his door was always open. He protected outer colonies from alien threats, helped avert natural disasters, and eventually became known as The Greatest Hero in the Verse.
She thought it was so damn corny. The entire thing became an enterprise, a hustle (in her opinion). Captain Steel was a brand, and Corina, for the most part, wanted nothing to do with it. She especially didn’t want to tie her current journey to it. Corina nodded softly to her thoughts, then offered: “Sorry I kept all that from you guys; I don’t feel comfortable talking about myself much.”
“You don’t say,” Horace said, and the whole crew laughed. He ordered another round, and the foursome toasted each other again. “We got a famous-adjacent person in our midst, friends!” He bellowed.
She laughed, nodded, and said, “Yup, that’s me.” She raised her little shot glass in the air, the 14th, and continued: “For whatever that’s worth,” and downed the drink.
“Okay, but I gotta ask: What are you even doing out here?” Joked Jameis. He was bald and pale, like he’d just walked through volcanic ash, mostly because he hardly left the ship. When he did, it was to places like this. “You could be sipping on Ultraquila til the end of time!”
Corina shrugged and drew her fingertip around the lip of the shot glass. “That life…just isn’t for me, man,” she finally said. “Plus, I needed to get away, he understands. Not that it’s stopped him from making me his little equalizer once or twice.”
“What do you mean?” Horace asked while letting Saul, the owner, know they needed another round.
“Oh, y’know, in case of emergency…,” and she mimed breaking a piece of glass with a tiny hammer. “He’ll reach out to me if he needs help with something big. Ideally.”
“Oh? Do tell.” That was Mai.
Corina waved her off, “No way. I’d about die.”
“Oh, come on!” Jameis pleaded. Suddenly the 3 of them began chanting: “Tell us, tell us, tell us!” while pounding their hands into the tabletop. Corina turned three shades of red as most bar patrons noticed them. Saul stopped the chanting by holding up a bottle and inquired who was ready for the next round; all four glasses went up. The crew toasted one another again and promptly swallowed the slugs of liquid.
15.
“Hey, leave that,” Horace said to Saul, who obliged. Horace then grabbed the bottle and poured another round. “So,” he looked to Corina. “Come on, tell us the craziest thing you two did.”
Corina leaned back and let out a long exhale; Crazy, huh? The term felt too small. Her brother had been Captain Steel since she was five years old. Corina occasionally started helping when she turned 15, and it became clear she possessed the same supernatural talents. Corina only ever had a couple of conditions: She didn’t want credit, and she didn’t want publicity. Mike didn’t care; he just wanted to spend time with his baby sister. The mundane stuff got old quickly. At 17, she told him, in no uncertain terms, that she would never help him stop a bank robbery again. He only started calling for the bigger stuff in time, but they were few and far between. The last one was six months ago.
“Remember when I was gone for a bit?” She had asked, and the others nodded. “Well, I told you guys it was personal, and it was because he hit me up. Something about needing my help to tow a moon back into orbit.” The disbelief etched on their faces was plain, but she continued unabated.
Corina couldn’t recall the planet’s name in question, but its lone satellite had somehow become de-synced from its orbit. The world’s citizens got together and contacted her brother; of course, he accepted. Captain Steel can do anything; that’s what they say about him, after all. Corina never bothered to care how their abilities worked, she felt it would ruin the mystique, but Michael was always keen to be studied. He tried to tell her once. Something about an invisible quantum distortion field; she didn’t care.
Iron Lung’s crew wanted to know how the siblings were supposed to go about towing a moon. Corina blushed at their questions, her cheeks becoming the same shade as her shock-pink hair. Recounting it felt silly, but she laid it all out: a 40 million-ton starship freighter had its stasis field modified to capture the celestial object.
With that running, the siblings then pushed the starship. It was slow going, for sure, but it was working. Corina remembered how salty she had felt doing this. The media were everywhere, set up by his people, but it wasn’t like he disapproved. He always had to make a big production of everything. She had her own life, and she liked what she did. Sleeping in a bunk on a ship, headed toward a colony, and looking for work fulfilled her far more than throwing a stupid punch or any of this nonsense did. As far as Corina was concerned, any time spent not doing that was wasted time.
Worst of all, he knew how she felt about the media.
When done, Corina floated in the atmosphere cross-legged while he had gone planet-side to meet with the world leaders. When he returned, she scowled at him briefly before turning away. It was bratty, sure, but he brought that out in her.
He floated over and asked her, “What?”
He wore that damn big grin that had all his Q scores up through the roof. With jet-black hair styled in a pompadour, and, of course, he was wearing that damn red half-cloak. She hated that thing, the whole outfit. She hated his symbol—a “C” and “S” broken up by a bolt of lightning—it was all annoying.
“You could have done that by yourself,” she remembered telling him. He shrugged his boyish shrug, and she hated that too.
“You look great, by the way,” he said after.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Cor, I didn’t know they were coming. Honest.” He grinned, but she could tell he was sincere, almost making her angrier. Her mind became a Rolodex of things to say next. The two didn’t fight often, but it was nasty when they did. Strangely, she felt past it. She was 20 now, and she could be the bigger person. Besides, he was probably counting on her blowing up, and screw that; she won’t give him the satisfaction.
The last thing she said to him ended up being, “Do me a favor, huh? If it’s not literally the end of the world, don’t bother me, okay?” It was childish of her, yes, but the face he made was worth it. Corina burst out laughing when she recounted that, then offered another toast.
“To stupid big brothers,” she offered, and her crewmates laughed and joined in. Another ten shots later, and the rest of the evening was a blur. She was jolted awake sometime later, back on the ship, in her bunk; her head hurt like hell. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed, so she didn’t try. Her quarters were an egg-shaped closet, just big enough for a bunk and a sink when the bunk recessed back into the wall. She was splayed out on the cold metal floor wearing nothing but underwear and a cotton tank top when Mai appeared at her doorway.
“You alright?”
“Whaa Happn?” Corina mumbled.
“Emergency exit from the Bleed. We’ve been interdicted,” She said, oddly calm. The Bleed was a membrane beneath real space that kept parallel universes apart and allowed them to exist simultaneously. All ships fitted with engines that can breach this membrane allows for faster interstellar travel. Technology able to pull ships out from the Bleed exists, but that is provenance for governments or giant corporations.
Corina shot up at the news, “Are we being boarded??”
Mai held her hands up with her palms out. “Relax! They hailed us. They’re looking for you.”
“Who’s they?” They turned out to be representatives from the Izanami Central Government. They had been looking for her in the last few weeks, always just missing her. She didn’t understand; Michael knew how to reach her directly. They asked for privacy, and Horace let her conference with them in his private quarters. As she sat down at his terminal, she could feel her heart tighten; the lack of answers had spoken volumes. A picture of a well-groomed man with blonde hair winked onto the display.
“What’s wrong?” She asked the picture. She saw the picture’s mouth move, heard every word he said, then replayed those words to herself; she studied them:
“Your brother is dead. He was beaten to death in defense of the Drusula Colony.
“Dead?” she said out loud to the stale ship air. The picture continued to talk, but no words would come out. She stared at it as it babbled on and on, feeling like reality had shattered around her. She felt small and exposed, just a floating chair and terminal in the middle of deep space.
“Ms. Kyle?” Corina blinked twice. She was back in the Captain’s quarters, staring at the picture again.
“Is this a joke?”
“I wish it was, miss. Will you come back with us?” Her hands started to tremble. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. She nodded, shut off the terminal, and began to weep.
----------------------------------------
Corina had arrived at the Izanami Military Spaceport to much more fanfare than she expected or wanted. Perhaps Corina was naïve. It wasn’t like she didn’t expect a crowd there made up of both fans of her brother and the media but a part of her expected it’d be much more somber than it ended up being. A throng of onlookers and cameras greeted her at the airlock. She wore her hair up in a messy bun and was dressed casually in sweatpants and a hoodie; she had neither the muster nor the care to worry about her appearance since first hearing the news.
She ignored any questions, unable to keep her eyes off the cargo hold. After being told the news, Corina transferred over to the colossal starship. After a brief goodbye to her friends, one shared with nary a word, Corina boarded the government star cruiser and was told that her brother’s still fresh body was also aboard. She went down there only once. To ID the body. None of this felt real.
“Do me a favor, huh? Don’t bother me unless it’s the end of the world.”
Her last words to him hit her in cascading waves of awfulness. She stormed out of the cargo hold and tried to pretend that Michael wasn’t down there. It was impossible. She never ate unless the ServerBot brought it to her. Her eyes never went dry unless she was sleeping. Considering she wasn’t sleeping, well. The look on his face when she said what she said, his doe eyes heavy from the sting, surrounded her. Anytime the reality of the situation wormed its way in, she could only think one thing:
This was the end of the world.
Once the hold opened and the sealed casket emerged, she was once again persona non grata which suited her just fine. The casket was translucent, and a stasis field surrounded the body to halt decomposition, but she still felt compelled to shut her eyes. Captain Steel, her brother, was dead. For all the vultures, it was the biggest story of their lives. For her? A dark feeling bubbled up from her stomach. Do me a favor, huh? Not unless it’s the end of the world. Corina swallowed hard and freed herself from the airlock and the insanity.
A fairly tall man with black hair and immaculately dressed stood from the crowd, seemingly waiting for her.
“Corina Kyle? First, my condolences,” the man said. Corina rolled her eyes behind the dark glasses planted on her face.
“No comment,” she uttered while trying to walk past. The man held up a finger to continue but was momentarily rendered speechless by her dismissiveness. She stormed past him like he didn’t exist.
“I’m not a reporter,” he said, and Corina stopped.
“Government?” She asked without turning around.
He shook his head, “No, actually I work…worked for your brother.” He pointed to himself sheepishly and said, “Alex.” Corina shut her eyes and breathed out heavily through her nose. She turned around and eyed Alex wearily, studying his wide frame and thin face.
“Right, his agent, yeah?” She said finally.
“Publicist.”
“Whatever,” she breathed. “What can I do for you, Alex?”
“Well…,” he held his hands at naval height and tapped his fingertips against each other. “This is awkward, but-”
“Just spit it out already.”
“It’s just that…it’s more of a matter of what I can do for you?” The statement puzzled Corina, so she kept silent and let him elaborate. “I work for you now. Your brother, Michael, left his entire enterprise to you.”
“What enterprise?” She deadpanned. “He’s fucking dead.” The words came out easier than she had expected, and a few stray tears made pointless attempts to escape; she held them back. She wasn’t going to cry, not in front of this guy. Alex tried to smile softly, but it wasn’t in his facial vocabulary; it came off as a grimace.
“I mean, we’re a charity, we sell merchandise, we…,” and he trailed off as he noted Corina’s expression. Her eyebrows got lower and lower with each word. “His organization did a lot of good, is all I’m trying to say. We don’t have to talk about this now.”
“How generous of you,” Corina winced internally immediately. She was falling apart and lashing out; she sighed. “Listen, sorry. We can probably connect after the funeral. There’s…there’s a lot to process.”
Alex bowed his head slightly. “Of course. Again, I’m sorry.”
Corina just nodded at that and turned on her heels. She took a single step before a stray thought forced her to stop. She turned to face Alex again and asked: “You work for me now, you said?”
“That’s right. Do you need something?”
“My brother had a liaison with the government, yeah?”
“Sure did.”
“I want to speak to them,” she said. “After the services, I want to know more about that…thing that killed my brother. Can you make that happen?”
Alex nodded. “On it. We can meet at Michael’s offices.”
He turned and walked off before the reality of what he had just said hit her. Michael ran most of the brand from a large penthouse high-rise that held many happy memories for her, and she just knew that the minute she stepped foot in there, it would be a wrap for her current fake-stoic demeanor. Who was she kidding? Corina was fixing to collapse in a heap right here and now. On shaky legs, she continued down the terminal. The oncoming influx of people heading her way were faceless shapes and blobs.
They ignored her, chittering to themselves how much they hoped to catch a glimpse of the body. Even dead, everyone just wanted their piece of Captain Steel. Corina stopped at a light blue cylindrical kiosk and placed her duffel bag beside her. Hansen’s Happy Shuttle Rides was a staple across the Verse, a ship-sharing service that allowed various Captains to indicate they were available for personal transport. Whoever coded the application was probably a billionaire at this point, as these kiosks had become so ubiquitous.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
The voice came from behind her, and it was familiar. Corina turned around and met the warm smile of her sister-in-law, Danielle. They hugged immediately. They hadn’t spoken to one another in literally years. Danielle had long, straight, dark purple hair that went down as far as her back. She had a thin face and frame to match; she was shorter than Michael and Corina by at least two feet. They held on to each other for a good five minutes. Neither said a word, and neither of them cried. Danielle broke away first.
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“All cried out too, huh?” She said. Her eyes were heavy and had dark patches around them that spoke to fatigue, exhaustion, and pain.
Corina nodded slowly but felt a thin line slide down her face and said, “Mostly.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Danielle said. “You probably should have heard it from me.”
“I mean, I should have called too. Let’s just agree we’re both sorry?” And that made Danielle smile. Corina suddenly became acutely aware that no one was paying them any mind. It wasn’t so unusual for her. Despite being the little sister to the greatest hero in the Verse, she kept a shallow profile; few people even cared to know he had a family. It also squared because everyone was so focused on the news. Every app and news feed was live streaming the procession that had the casket transferred from one ship to the other. But Danielle was his wife, always by his side for any function or public appearance; she was essentially famous in her own right.
“What gives?” Corina finally asked. “Where’s your security?”
Danielle waved a hand at her, “I don’t need it; I quietly retired a year ago. I barely rated any coverage…until recently.” Danielle paused to let what she had just said work through her emotions, then flipped her hair back slightly and said, “but a nice wig and I’m just a random nobody.” She shrugged. “I’m ignoring them anyhow. The press will see me at the funeral just like everyone else.”
“Retired? God, I’ve missed so much…”
Danielle smiled warmly and reached down to grab Corina’s duffel bag. “You don’t know the half of it,” She said as she placed the strap on her shoulder. “There’s a lot to tell. C’mon, ride’s this way.”
“Hang on,” Corina said while she grabbed the duffel bag back. Danielle was clearly struggling with it but was trying to save face. “You can’t just say that and not immediately start spilling….”
“Fair,” Danielle started walking and heading away from the kiosk. Corina followed and altered her gait to not overtake her. “But the main thing I want to tell you…it’s probably better if I showed you.”
“Okay…,” Corina replied, weary. No phrase that had it’s probably better if I show you in it never led to good things, right? Of course, she was always cynical.
“What else?” She asked, impatient. The terminal forked ahead with signs indicating that to the right was passenger pick up, while the left was personal ship parking; they went left.
“Well, we moved out of the penthouse around the same time I retired from public life.”
“No kidding? Where?” Corina asked.
“We bought this cute plot of land about—I want to say—100 miles outside the city?” Danielle replied. “Anyway, it’s this incredible farmland near a river, and we started working the land; we even got some cows….”
“Wait, wait, my brother owns a farm?” Corina’s eyes went wide. Michael was the biggest city boy in the universe. He was the kind of boy who hated bugs and loved things like take-out and apartment living. In fact, the very idea of living like she had, jumping from ship to ship, almost disgusted him.
“Not just owns a farm, but he loved it.” The words brought a smile to Danielle’s lips. Warm, positive memories, seemingly at a premium lately, filled her thoughts. “One day, he hooked this giant plow to his shoulders—I mean giant—and spent the entire day working the field. He wished he was there more often. It’s one of the reasons that…that he was planning to retire.”
Corina stopped in her tracks when Danielle said that. She scrunched her eyebrows and asked, “Retire? Is that why he left me everything?”
Danielle had also stopped and looked back toward Corina, “You know that already?”
“Yeah, this guy, his agent, or whatever, told me near the airlock.”
“Ah. Alex, yeah. He’s a good bean, mostly.”
“Dani, is that why Michael did that?”
“Yes.”
Danielle nodded sympathetically and resumed walking. They had reached the entrance to the garage. It was two massive double doors that were sealed shut. Adjacent to the door was a glass panel that, just above it, had printed “SCAN EYES HERE,” and Danielle did so. The door loudly hissed as it split in half. Just behind the door, Corina could hear the complex spinning—it was bringing the landing pad to them.
“He was planning to reach out to you soon, kinda test your temperature about it…but he kept putting it off.”
“Why?”
“Always some new thing to deal with,” Danielle replied. “That, and he didn’t want to bother you.”
“God…,”
Corina shuddered and shook her head. As the doors finished their opening sequence and the ship came into view, Corina felt overwhelmed that her brother couldn’t reach out because she had been a colossal ass the last time they spoke. From below deck, the silver penny that was the ship had finally and fully come into view. Corina knew this ship intimately, The Huffman. It belonged to Michael, but he often joked it was basically hers for how much she loved using it. She did love it, but she loved her brother too, and the last thing she said to him was Don’t bother me if it’s not the end of the world.
She wanted to vomit, but her stomach was empty.
The entrance to the ship was split vertically, with the lower end also serving as stairs. A woman was waiting there beside the ship. She had short blond hair and wore a long blue coat with red seems and piping at various points. Danielle waved as she approached and asked, “How are they?”
“Sleeping soundly, ma’am,” the woman said. “May I take your guest’s bag?”
“I’m fine,” Corina said. “Who’s they?”
Danielle looked briefly at Corina before turning her attention back to the woman. “Jane, would you mind getting them for me?”
“Not at all, ma’am.” And she disappeared into the ship.
“Dani, what’s going on?” Corina asked, visibly confused.
“Remember how I said the farm was one reason he wanted to retire?”
“Yeah…”
“They’re the other….” Danielle replied.
Jane emerged from the ship with two babies in the crook of each of her arms. Corina dropped her bag with a loud slap against the deck with something stuck in her throat. Each child, wrapped in a blanket—one red, one white—blinked their little eyes sheepishly at the change in lighting conditions. Surprisingly, the babies weren’t annoyed about having been woken up. They couldn’t be older than six months, Corina figured. Danielle took the one in the red blanket and kissed their forehead.
“Congrats, you’re an aunt.” She said and smiled.
----------------------------------------
The funeral was massive. Izanami and the Bubble shut down for the day to mourn and celebrate. Of course, none of this was surprising; the most famous human being in the galaxy was dead. The procession traveled the entire length of Saint Century and lasted for hours. Michael’s coffin, pulled via a drone connected to an anti-grav sled, was flanked on either side by armored soldiers who stopped every mile and gave a ten-gun salute.
The sled carried the body off the coast of Saint Century to a quickly constructed artificial island and mausoleum in the Maury Ocean. Plans to place the body at the base of the statue perched outside the Captain Steel museum were brought forth but quickly discarded. Danielle found it tasteless. Corina was numb to the idea, to everything really, and it was evident in the speech she gave.
Corina went second to last, reserved for Danielle, and it was boilerplate, standard. She watched it being played back on the screen in her brother’s study, now hers, a baby cradled in the crook of her arm and wishing she could do it all over again. So much she wanted and could have said, but her brain was just a fog of crud emotions.
She felt tiny stubby fingers clasp around her finger, and she looked down and smiled. I’m an aunt, she thought and felt happy for the first time in days. She studied the little one; her name was Athena. Little tufts of black peach fuzz sat atop her wrinkled dome while her fat little rosy cheeks bulged as she smiled back at Corina.
“You and me, we’re gonna be best buds,” she said. Little Athena cooed as if she understood.
“Picking favorites already?” Danielle had walked in carrying the other baby, Michael Junior, in her arms. The little one yelled once, forcefully, like he was announcing himself, and Danielle’s eyes squinted softly as a smile spread across her face. The two babies shared the same features. The only reason Corina knew which one she was holding was that Danielle told her. Knowing her, she’ll have trouble telling them apart forever, until they’re teens, at least.
“What? I’d never,” Corina replied, then silently mouthed; I totally have.
“Why are you watching that?” Danielle said while indicating the view screen in the room. The stream had started over again at this point. The study was a 12x12 cube anchored by a large mahogany desk and two-person leather sofa against the wall, and catty-corner to that. The desk was clutter-free, with only a cup holder for pens and a lamp as needed. Behind the desk was a massive screen that became translucent to serve as a window to the outside world.
Corina continued looking at Athena before finally saying, “…I don’t know.” Danielle took that as her cue to turn off the screen, so she did so. The two sat at each end of the sofa. Corina kept her attention on Athena and let the silence drape over her like a comfy blanket.
“Talk to me,” Danielle eventually said. She kept her gaze on MJ, but her attention was cued toward everyone in the room, as most mothers do.
“What do you want me to say?” Corina replied.
“Well,” Danielle began. “Anything. I can tell you’re keeping a lot bottled up—hell, the whole world could tell.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“I mean, you might as well have said nothing during your speech.”
Corina felt words catch in her throat. So much had been said in her mind; it jammed together like a 10-car pileup. The revelations of the last few days and hours spoke massive volumes. Michael felt he couldn’t reach out anymore. He didn’t tell her that he was a father. He wanted to retire and name her his successor, yet he still didn’t say anything. She ruined it; what else was there for her to think? The pain was toxic waste in the pit of her stomach.
“Did he ever tell you the last thing I said to him?” She uttered, still wholly focused on it, much to her chagrin.
“He knew you didn’t mean it literally, Corina,” Danielle said. “You just wanted your space; he understood that.
Maybe, she thought. They were ten years apart and had different fathers but grew up together as best friends. They fought, scrapped, and made fun of each other as all siblings did. He supported her even when her father didn’t. There was more happiness than sad across their entire history, yet she finds it defined by one moment, one time, and a few words.
Her memories felt permanently ruined. It made Corina so damn mad. She could have gotten much of that off her chest during the funeral. Corina could have told the world exactly how much her big brother meant to her. Instead, Corina wished she were out punching asteroids as stress relief. She’d remember that was something they used to do together and feel a black hole open inside her chest. Corina looked at the bundle in her hands; some of that melted away.
“I just miss him,” she finally said. “I just want that moment back—Gresh, listen to me! I feel so self-absorbed, you lost your damn husband, and you’re trying to comfort me instead of the other way round!”
“We both lost him.” MJ had started getting fussy in her arms; she rocked him gently against her and lazily danced a finger in front of his face. Nothing else existed to him anymore. “I feel kind of numb about it if we’re being honest.”
“Numb?”
She nodded, not taking her eyes off MJ. “I think a part of me knew this day would come. It feels like I’ve been steeling myself for a long time, and now it’s here…. I need to be strong. For them. For myself too.”
“And me, huh?” Corina asked.
“Especially you.” They both laughed, soft weary chuckles that were more genuine stress relief than joy. There was a soft chime from the door behind them; Danielle handed MJ over to Corina before she made her way to the massive desk. Corina held both twins awkwardly in the crook of both arms. They were unwieldy and made separate plays for her hair. Danielle slid up a panel on the top of the desk and revealed yet another screen.
“Yes, Jane?” Danielle said to the video.
“The officer from the ICG is here. Would you like me to take the children?”
Danielle looked up toward Corina, who had let both twins go nuts playing with strands of her long pink hair, and felt sad. She didn’t want to shatter the moment; Corina needed it; she did, too. But Corina wanted to know more about her brother’s murderer and, quite frankly, so did she.
“Send them in. I’ll bring the kids out.”
Corina looked up, surprised. “Not gonna stick around?”
Danielle took each baby gently from Corina, deftly cradling both with ease, already an expert at carrying them both. “…I don’t think I can handle it.”
Corina understood and nodded. The door chimed again and slid open horizontally. A strong-jawed man in military garb stood there with arms behind his back. He nodded toward Danielle, who nodded back.
“General Kent.” She said.
“Mrs. Masterson, I’m sorry for your loss.” He replied.
“Thank you.” She turned to Corina and said, “I’ll be downstairs.”
The man removed his hat and moved aside, allowing Danielle to stroll past him. He stepped in briskly and let the door slide shut behind him quietly. Both stood there in silence, studying one another for lack of anything basic to say.
He spoke up first: “We met once, do you remember?”
Corina racked her brain, trying to place a memory to the face. He was handsome, with prominent cheekbones and perfectly sculpted black eyebrows to go with his cleanly shaven head. He was tall, broad-shouldered like her brother—though a foot shorter than her.
Eventually, she said, “Nope, sorry.”
He nodded slightly and said, “I was pretty low on the pole back then, learning the ropes from my mentor and commander while your brother was helping us build the massive solar collectors on Mikoto.”
“Jeez, I was like 16 then.”
“Huh. I thought you two were the same age.”
“It’s a common misconception.” Corina shrugged.
Kent nodded again, this time wistfully. “Not long after that, I became his go-between for most things bureaucratic; I like to think I made things easier for him. We got on pretty well.” Not surprising to Corina, Michael was generally pleasant. He made people feel at ease and comfortable; some said that was his real superpower.
“He was a good man who did a lot of good for people,” Kent continued. “Many of us are hoping you pick up where he left off.”
The phrase ticked a box in her sub-cortex and her eyes furrowed at the half-assed suggestion. That her brother considered the idea was one thing, but others having that mindset cheesed her off in a way she found unexpected. Maybe it was the idea of these people already moving on to the next thing that galled her so, or perhaps it was the fact she still wasn’t quite ready to think in those terms.
One thing she knew for sure, however, was this wouldn’t be the last time someone would broach the subject, and she already felt predisposed to hate it. She wasn’t Captain Steel. She never could be. Was that what they wanted, though? Is that what Michael wanted?
“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but can we just get this over with?” She said. Reading the room, Kent nodded and tapped his temple with his right hand. He was implanted with an AUG, a computing device that allows easy access to the Bleednet. His eyes closed and rapidly blinked as he accessed his mental OS and took over the wall view screen. Windows opened and closed as binary flashed across each one before switching to recorded footage. There was a time stamp on the bottom right corner, and Corina recognized the date instantly.
It was aerial footage from Drusula. Two massive figures were standing across from each other. Whipped-up dust stood frozen in time, threatening to swallow them whole. One figure was unmistakable, even from there: it was Michael. His shirt so torn he was practically topless, the scars and wounds from the battle displayed prominently. Across from him was a monstrous figure. So large that, even at that distance, it was clearly much taller than he was. The green suit it wore was also torn badly and revealed tight, graying skin wrapped over bulging muscles.
“Grimm…” Corina whispered, finally putting a face to the name. Every news blast had the same headline: Captain Steel beaten to death by Gray Grimm! He was supposedly infamous across the Verse, but she had never heard of him until now.
Kent piped up: “Are you sure you want to see this?”
Corina eyed him as if he had just asked her if she was single; he took the hint and let it play. The two titans immediately started circling one another. As the drone grew closer, she saw death and catastrophic damage wrought upon the colony. Toppled-over towers and rubble had become the boundaries of their ring, while the terrified masses huddled behind the debris were their audience.
Corina felt her heart tighten in her chest as she watched her physically exhausted brother size up the beast in front of him. Here, the height differences became more apparent; Grimm had to be at least 9 feet tall.
“Grimm ran a syndicate that basically covered five planets in that sector, including Drusula.”
“What is he?” She asked and winced when a massive fist connected with her brother’s jaw, staggering him.
“His people are known as Vaad,” he replied. “That’s about the extent of our knowledge, unfortunately.”
“How have you never dealt with the Vaad?” Corina had a run-in or two with them, a consequence of living out in the Bubble and sleeping on a ship. You parked it where you could, and sometimes that spot belonged to them. “He’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen.”
“You’ve encountered one?”
“You haven’t?”
“Diplomacy is above my pay grade. They never messed with us; we haven’t with them. Least, not officially.” Kent pointed at the footage, “But this big mother? He has been on my radar for a long time; he never touched human settlements.”
“Until suddenly, he did.”
“Eyup,” Ken pointed again. “Enter the Captain.”
Corina silently fumed; how typical. Michael had risen and charged Grimm, and it happened so fast that the camera barely caught it were it not for Grimm standing his ground to stop him. He held Michael in a front face lock before he clubbed down on his back with such force that seismic waves were visible on the footage. Michael started puking blood but had enough awareness to roll out of the way to narrowly avoid a giant boot that was aimed straight at his head. He moved to his feet, cocked his fist, and let loose a hefty haymaker that sent both crashing to the dirt.
“Where’s the body?” She asked. “You have it, I assume? I want to see it.”
“I could probably arrange that. It should be arriving into port now.”
“You brought it here? Why?!”
“To study--” The entire building shook before he could finish the thought.
Alarms went off in the distance as breaking news alerts popped up repeatedly over the still-playing footage. Corina and Kent looked at each other before Corina said, “Computer lower the opacity to 0%.” The AI obliged silently as the footage vanished, replaced by the skyline outside the window. Just beyond the city, the remnants of a mushroom cloud dissipated. Again the two looked at each other.
“I don’t know much about the Vaad,” Corina said slowly. “But I did find out one thing: You have to kill them twice.”
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“Computer, play news blast 1,” Corina said aloud. The opacity increased, and the city was gone, news footage of a ball of fire tumbling through the atmosphere taking its place. At the same time, a newscaster droned: This was the scene just moments ago, following the explosion at the Izanami Military Space Station. We’re trying to get drones over to the crash site to see what has landed…wait, I’m being told we have one there now. Let’s go to that.
The feed switched over to an aerial drone hovering over what looked to be about a mile-wide crater. At the center, smoke swirled around and cradled a figure like a soft blanket. Beady eyes stared at the drone screaming, gray muscles bulging under its torn green suit. Corina’s eyes narrowed, and she gritted her teeth.
Gray Grimm was here.
Gray Grimm was alive.
There was no hesitation.
Clouds parted, and a sonic boom split the sky in half. A smoke trail that rose past the atmosphere marked her destination, and she was practically licking her lips. Corina could feel the pimples rising on her skin. The thing that killed her brother here, alive; the guilt and sadness transformed into strength and power. The word revenge flashed off and on in her brain like a no vacancy sign at a cheap motel.
The ground and smoke trail had grown more prominent with each mile passed. Outside the city limits, where technology ended and nature re-emerged, the debris from the crashed space station lay scattered about, smashed, and nearly vaporized. It looked like a junkyard had spontaneously sprung up in the middle of nowhere.
At the epicenter was Grimm. Remnants of smoke whipped around him as he appeared to yell at the sky.
“WHERE IS HE?” he bellowed. Corina’s vision blurred; she cocked her fist back. Her answer connected with the tip of his jaw with enough force to shatter a mountain.
Grimm only stumbled.
She swung again, and a thunderclap of kinetic energy caught his jaw and spun him in place briefly. However, he used the momentum to his advantage and backhanded Corina out of the air. She collided with and skidded across the ground violently. She coughed and gagged on the floor after swallowing dirt accidentally. She felt a sharp pain in her side as a kick landed in her rib cage. All the air expired from her body as the force flipped her onto her back. A massive boot blocked out the sun before purchasing real estate on her chest.
She grunted and spat like a caged animal. Grimm leaned over to study her face as if she were a scientific specimen or perhaps annoyed that yet another one of these dumb humans was again getting in his face.
“Killed me,” he said through gritted teeth. “ME! That stupid idiot killed ME!” His tight facial muscles twitched.
“He was my brother!” She screeched. Each of her hands clasped to either side of the massive boot, and she pushed; it barely gave way.
“Was?” He replied and leaned back slightly as if he found this all amusing. “Waste of time….”
Corina pushed again, furious, but Grimm lifted his boot off her, wholly unconcerned. He turned his back as Corina flipped onto her front and pounded the dirt with her fist. “Don’t walk away from me,” She said under her breath.
In a swift motion, she dashed toward Grimm and snaked her arms around his waist. She paused a micro-second before popping her hips and suplexing him on the back of his neck behind her. Grimm’s body folded in half before the momentum carried him end over end onto his stomach. His eyes were wide with shock while he hefted himself up to his elbows.
Corina jumped in the air and came down knees first. She was aiming for the neck and hopeful such a strike would cut his damn head off. Grimm, however, rolled onto his back, causing a narrow miss. The ground underneath them buckled under the force, half burying Corina’s leg in the dirt. Grimm spun in her direction again and swung a fist directly for her forehead that connected.
Her vision went black and white while she felt the grip of his sausage-sized fingers clasp around her entire head before being pulled out from the ground. Corina forcefully peeled his fingers back and forced him to drop her. She landed on one knee and snorted heavily before snapping a punch to Grimm’s stomach. The sound of knuckles upon the abdomen split air molecules in half and doubled Grimm over.
She followed that with an uppercut that smashed the bridge of his nose and sent him off his feet. Camerabots had circled the melee for over a minute, and they captured Corina Kyle as she threw another hook at his ribs, followed by a haymaker that flipped the Vaad side by side until he crashed into the dirt. Gray Grimm, alongside millions, was learning about the galaxy’s biggest little-known secret: Corina was always stronger than her brother.
Grimm stumbled upright as Corina circled behind him. She pounced and wrapped her arms around his neck. The Vaad reached behind him to snatch her off, but she held firm; she squeezed. Gray Grimm collapsed to a single knee. Corina now had more leverage, and she gripped tighter. She twisted, and her hands moved faster than light.
Gray Grimm’s neck snapped. His bones crumbled to dust under tremendous force, and the monster fell. Corina stood triumphant and breathing heavily. Her shoulders rocked up and down and felt strained. She saw all the cameras; the entire Bubble was watching. They saw what she did.
And they knew why she did it.
They cheered at once; her DM’s flooded her AUG. In a millisecond, the entire universe had its preference; they had their takes. What she did, she did for them and their collective grief.
And she knew.
Corina knew that her future was already decided.
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Days pass, and it’s revealed that 500 people somehow died during the melee. She was her brother now, whether she liked it or not. Grimm’s body was placed into a casket housing a stasis field and shot off-planet, just in case, and doomed to orbit a neighboring gas giant for hopefully all eternity.
Danielle and Corina each held a baby in their arm inside Captain Steel’s study. Alex entered, holding a stack of disposable slates in his hands, and he placed them down in front of Corina and grimaced. He had his hands before him to signal he’d take the baby while she looked the slates over. She ignored that.
The slates were easy enough to spread upon the desk as Athena cooed. Corina eyed one of the slates and said: “This one says ‘Captain Steel.’ I told you I wasn’t going to use the name.”
Alex leaned forward and sighed. He studied the slate and paid attention to the clothes rendered on it. “It’s a placeholder,” he said. “The others have different names. The important thing is the look, remember?”
Corina sighed and spread the slates on her desk. One caught her eye. A long coat and a small cape; she didn’t hate it.
“This is the one,” she said as she held the drawings up. “Yeah. Everything about it is perfect, even the name.”
Alex leaned forward and squinted. “Which one is that?” he said.
Corina grinned, “Lady Steel.”