Study of Revenge, Chapter One

4-H-N watched as Mini-Flash Juniper rested on the floor, Flashsatsumas in vest and pants did the same at the power-harness, and Flashbee carefully monitored the vital signs of both.

This was it, and everybody knew.

They were in the storage-bay they’d used before, seven levels below Flash Club Headquarters. Never had an Intelligentsor vision been taken in shifts before, but Jenny insisted it was the only way they were going to get through it all, and Flashsatsumas agreed. Now from the looks of them this first stint had already yielded matter enough to vindicate their decision.

“Guys?” hinted 4-H-N.

“Everything we feared,” replied Mini-Flash Juniper, as though this were the answer to a question asked. “The white stony Mini-Flashes I saw being assembled when Mini-Flash Meek sent me forward in time…they’re the same thing as the one you saw, Flashbee. And 4-H-N, your sister and Dylan are right about where it came from.”

“It’d be hard to forget fighting that thing with Flashslip,” Flashbee concurred. “And its behaviour definitely put us in mind of The Foretold One.”

“Flashchasm and Flashagate must both be like that, underneath some sort of disguise,” added Juniper.

There was no need for her to go on. Her tone of voice was eloquent to a fault. Flashchasm and Flashagate, and any number of other Mini-Flashes besides. The Foretold One was manufacturing his own. No doubt they had already infiltrated The Flash Club.

Mini-Flash Juniper looked up at 4-H-N.

“So the Special Program mustn’t go back,” she concluded.

There had been no point keeping secrets from Flashsatsumas, when everybody else knew. “Flashagate spoke as if the four I saw defecting were the first,” Juniper went on. “They were in full graduate uniform, so at some point between now and then must have returned to Flash Club Headquarters to complete their training. Keep them with you, 4-H-N. Let them stay fugitives. That seems to me the only way we can be sure of preventing not only those few from crossing over to The Foretold One, but for all we know, the rest of them as well.”

Flashsatsumas raised his head. “Ready to go again?” he asked Mini-Flash Juniper.

“They can,” Flashbee confirmed, though he said it very gravely.

4-H-N nodded. She wasn’t any keener than he was on the risk Flashsatsumas and Jenny were taking, but knew in addition there wasn’t any choice. For Moltron’s target had been the mutant which Flashbee encountered. That much was clear from Phoenix’s report. It had been a standard cover-up job, and it had been paid for by the boy who’d spied on 4-H-N in the shower then started a movement against her.

Jenny’s pair of nasty boyfriends sounded suspiciously like the future of that movement.

This jigsaw puzzle was coming together fast, and 4-H-N didn’t like the picture.

She needed to know about Mini-Flash Phytolith.

Was he an agent of their deadliest enemy, and what would his next move be?

“You’re taking your time,” commented Mini-Flash Phytolith.

He and Mini-Flash Meteor were in the latter’s room, she at the computer terminal. The hard-drive from her space-car was hooked up.

Meteor knew he didn’t only mean the way her finger was hovering over the send-button now. Someone had indeed kept her costly hand-stitched ones parked atop that hard-drive’s contents an unwarrantedly long time. At first, it had merely been for the sake of deliciousness. Watching the gang make good in the early days of 4-H-N’s command, and knowing all the while a mere click would take it away from her, was a pleasure Mini-Flash Meteor had wanted to draw out.

Yet the early days had turned into quarter-phases, then cycles, and still that same someone’s knickers had remained where they were.

“It’s raising questions about your suitability,” Phytolith put in.

Good times. Tearing up the galaxy with her subservient girls. They’d been second gender and they’d lived the epoch that was made for them.

Compare that, to sitting alone and stupid in this same room.

Could Mini-Flash Meteor be blamed for her reluctance to dash away the one slender chance those good times might return?

Then at last 4-H-N had approached her. Given her back her empty ink-bottle.

And it had been as if…Meteor didn’t know, she wished she’d got her smell on before going into this…as if some other chance was before her. She and 4-H-N had started talking again, almost like they used to. There’d been…she’d felt…

“Do you hate her enough?” Mini-Flash Phytolith interjected softly. “You said you wanted to join the side that would guarantee you power.”

Mini-Flash Meteor was blinking her long-lashed eyes.

Did she hate 4-H-N enough? That hate was no longer a matter of thought, let alone feeling. It had become a dull fact, like the physical existence of Meteor’s body. 4-H-N had marched in, taken everything, betrayed her…these were just weary mantras by now.

“You know I could reach over your shoulder anytime and do it myself,” added Phytolith. “Don’t start telling me you’ve got the speed these days to stop me.”

Which was probably true. And that was 4-H-N’s fault. As was the state of Mini-Flash Meteor’s grades. And that of her social life. Row after row of solitary test-tubes, night after night, then presently morning after morning as well…

“Of course, if you’d rather move aside,” Mini-Flash Phytolith finished. “Let one of the first gender do it for you.”

A sort of spasm seized Mini-Flash Meteor. It did not spare her tears, which spurted, blurring her sight. Yet when it passed, the deed was done.

Mini-Flash Meteor’s finger still fiercely depressed send.

She lifted it away in the quiet aftermath, and rose to face Mini-Flash Phytolith. He was smiling.

“All I did was hand you the opportunity,” were his words. “You’re the one who proved you had it in you. Congratulations, Mini-Flash Meteor. You’ve joined the winning side alright. I knew you would. As soon as I found out what your name was, I was sure.”

No further conversation ensued. There wasn’t any need.

Both Mini-Flashes began to take their tunics off.

Jenny and Flashsatsumas seemed to be deeply into it this time, and for quite a stretch there was nothing for Flashbee and 4-H-N to do but keep an eye on their readings. That only changed when the noise of a communicator sounded out above the portal’s steady rumble.

“Urgent summons,” muttered 4-H-N, jumping up and untucking. “I’m supposed to be on duty. Can you keep things together until I’m back, Flashbee?”

“I’ll try to,” he replied.

And that was all.

Flashbee singularly failed to look up from his equipment and wonder why. Nor did 4-H-N halt in the doorway just before departing, to watch him, a strange little sad smile on her lips.

There was none of that. They just said what they said, then went about their business.

Even though there was no excuse for it. Between them they’d seen enough films to know the moments like those for what they were.

Richard of Gloucester lay contentedly back on the bed, as Lady Anne Neville put her Mini-Flash uniform back on.

The Leader hadn’t limited his literature syllabus to Milton, even though that particular Earth-author was his favourite. There’d been all sorts of other texts besides, boasting those kinds of characters he’d deemed worthiest of his creations’ emulation. Thus had Mini-Flash Phytolith been able to discover a personal hero all his own, a lifetime ago in Miss Jade’s classroom within The Magnetic Stones. Great was the Leader.

Although that said, from where Mini-Flash Phytolith was parked just at the minute, pretty much everything in the entire galaxy looked great to him.

“I know,” he said to Mini-Flash Meteor at last. “That wasn’t why you did this.”

She said nothing. He stood, and likewise began to dress.

“What’s next is something you’ll like, though,” Phytolith went on. “And for that to come off, it’s time we were moving our poor player into position.”

Observing he’d switched scripts made him want to chuckle.

“We’re all poor players, Mini-Flash Meteor,” Mini-Flash Phytolith explained. “And all this is just one big drama. Question three, why will we win the war?” he added, incomprehensibly to his companion. “Because I’m at an advantage. I’ve already seen the ending.”

“So what happens?” asked Meteor quietly.

For a second time, Mini-Flash Phytolith answered as he’d been taught.

“That’s up to me.”

TO BE CONTINUED