Dreadnought (Nemesis, #1)

by April Daniels

Nobody is going to force me to do anything ever again.

My smile is huge, as wide as it goes. I hug her, and she hugs me back and I love her so, so much. “Thanks, Mom.”

“My daughter needs a bra,” says Mom. Another little burst of joy flits through me hearing her say that. Her daughter.

I put on my shiny black shoes and practice hovering in midair. It’s easy now. I can spin on all three axes, and

stop precisely in whatever orientation I choose. Tomorrow is Monday. I can’t wait. School is going to be amazing.

I need to remember that nobody can force me to do anything. Not anymore. Not ever again.

my body is going to have undeniable evidence of femininity until the day I die, no matter what we do.

Tomorrow I’ll be better still. When I’ve got enough practice to concentrate and fly at the same time, I’ll—

but nothing really prepares you for being a hundred feet in the air with nothing between you and the ground but a long scream. The barrel rolls come naturally, and soon I’m laughing.

Things are getting better all the time.

Tonight, it rips the knee of my jeans, and that’s about it.

The panel above the door to the exit lights up with an anime-style happy face, and dings.

All those metahumans who get their powers in lab accidents? Guess what kind of lab they were working in. And not all lab accidents are happy ones. People have died in really horrible ways.

“If you pick a side, you’re going to make enemies. If a lab accident doesn’t get me, one of them will. I won’t have time to get cancer.” I pull my shirt over my head. “Or maybe it just means you’ll get like, super tumors, and they’ll petition to be recognized as independent people.”

“Ya mind?” says Impossible with narrowed eyes. “We’re bonding.”

“Are the things that criminals tell each other to make themselves feel better about getting beaten up by a rich boy in fancy cosplay.

He’s someone we choose to hang out with.”

“And here’s the bad news: if you want kids, you’re going to have to let me convert some of your blood into sperm and have someone else provide the egg and womb. You don’t have a uterus. You’ll never get pregnant.”

“I guess I just thought that I was finally a real girl.” “Hey! None of that!” She takes me by the shoulders. “You think it’s a uterus that makes a woman? Bullshit. You feel like you’re a girl, you live it, it’s part of you? Then you’re a girl. That’s the end of it, no quibbling. You’re as real a girl as anyone. And you really need to learn to express your anger better.”

“This whole time, you haven’t even once asked about being changed back. It’s pretty obvious you’re transgender, Danny.”

Drink it and head on over to the lavatory marked with the nuclear radiation symbol,

“You just explained why I shouldn’t be wearing a cape yet.” “You’re a teenager with friggin’ superpowers. You think we don’t know you’re going to experiment? We’d rather you do it in throwaway colors, a suit that won’t signify a cape persona, but will protect your identity from anyone who sees you. Come on, you’re going to love this.”

You’re always welcome here, Danny, okay?”

He’s reading a paperback book, which is such a normal thing to do that it’s weird.

“We’d also like to meet the young lady,” says Magma in a surprisingly rich and urbane voice. In most of the video I’ve seen of him he’s roaring like fire and brimstone and smacking blackcapes into the ground.

Doc Impossible asked me how I wanted to be introduced like it was no big deal. She’s good like that.

“You can call me Danny, if it’s easier,” I say, almost on reflex. Crap. Why did I say that? Impossible was standing up for me and it felt good to hear someone use my girl name, my real name, and then I just—ugh. I am such an idiot.

honest: I’ve had a crush on Valkyrja since about the time I discovered boobs are a thing that exist, but this whole ye-olde-tymey talk is way clunky in everyday conversation and it’s kind of weirding me out.

It’s always nice to meet another queer with powers.” My stomach lurches. Oh yeah. I’m gay now. It’d never occurred to me. Now I’m wondering how obvious my crush on Valkyrja is. “It’s nice to see some trans representation in the community.”

That nervousness from earlier is coming back. It’s kind of amazing how clearly it’s being transmitted, even though his voice is mechanically filtered and he’s wearing power armor.

My stomach flips. Of course. It’s still not something I like to think about; the best thing that ever happened to me came out of someone else—someone important, someone almost universally loved—getting killed.

“Because he was hurt?” I say, confused. Isn’t it obvious why I did it? But my answer seems to confirm something for Magma, and he glances over at Valkyrja. She nods slightly.

“You have a champion’s heart, Danielle Tozer,” says Valkyrja, and I try not to sag too obviously with relief. A moment later a sunny glow blooms in my chest. Valkyrja gave me a compliment. Awesome.

My throat clenches up watching this. Again, I am profoundly thankful to him, for this beautiful, wonderful, amazing gift he gave me.

“Uh, aren’t I Dreadnought?” “Not yet,” Doc Impossible says at the same time as Carapace says, “No, that’s not for you.” They look at each other sharply.

“How?” asks Valkyrja, with ice like a Viking’s nightmare in her tone.

“Her,” I say, and everyone looks at me, like they’d forgotten I was here already. “That’s in dispute,” says Graywytch primly. “You were raised to be a man. Your privilege blinds you, and makes you dangerous.” “I’m just as much a girl as you are.” “Oh really?” She leans forward, steeples her fingers. “Do you even know how to put in a tampon?” “Go to hell,” snaps Doc Impossible. “That’s hardly called for,” says Graywytch. “This is fu—” Doc Impossible stops short, glances at me, and continues. “Nonsense, and you know it.”

We need that powerset in our deck in case we encounter a Mistress Malice–level threat.

Oh. So that’s what he wants. Thank you, Mr. Queer Solidarity.

“Then come take it!” I shout at her. A few of them are taken aback. I don’t think they’re used to being threatened by kids, but I can see the realization sinking into them: they can’t steal this from me. I’m sure fighting them would be way harder than I expect, but I have the powers of freaking Dreadnought, and even if they won, nobody knows how the mantle transfer works. “That’s what I thought.”

I can admit it to myself now: I wanted to join them more than anything. It was a desire I barely let myself daydream about. It felt presumptuous, arrogant.

“Look, at least keep the provisional membership. It doesn’t cost you anything, and Valkyrja and Magma really like you. I do too.” An hour ago, hearing that Valkyrja liked me and wanted me on her team would probably have sent me to the moon. Right now, it feels like one of those stubby little trophies they give to the losing team in grade school soccer. “And Carapace is a good guy; he’ll come around when he gets to know you.”

The rage comes back, hot and thick, and I’m screaming. I’m screaming like I never have before.

It is a girl’s rage, and it is right. It is necessary.

My power surges—and it is my power—until the wind tears at me with feeble fingers, until it seems the world itself is scared of me, begging me to stop. I will never stop. I will never give this up. I will never be what they want me to be.

Fifteen years trapped. Seven of those, aware of my prison and screaming inside.

The water wants to crush me like a soda can, but it can’t. The pressure breaks itself against me. My ribs should shatter. My lungs should collapse. I hold. Effortlessly.

Down here, in the heavy cold, there is peace. This scalding outrage cools and hardens to something stronger than diamond, and infinitely more precious. Resolve.

I let go of the speed and coast, floating so high the planet curves away from me in all directions. Earth is gauzy blue at the edges. There are lightning storms in Canada, and wildfires in Mexico. All of humanity is pinpricks of light beneath me. The silence up here is perfect. I can see forever.

My name is Danielle Tozer. I am a girl. No one is strong enough to take that from me anymore.