At the Drive-In, Chapter One

Two glaring eyes on a monstrous faceless visage burst upon the horizon without any warning at all, as heavy beats of warlike music began to pound. Flashthunder, beholding in the dark, trembled. He had dreaded this moment. The tiny comfort that usually accompanied it, which was in knowing that for once in a way he wasn’t the only one terrified, scarcely applied tonight. For this evening it was very important he somehow find it in himself to not to show his fear.

The Foretold One’s gigantic aspect melted into real-life footage captured on another world at a slightly earlier time. Harbin himself, gaunt and fearsome in his billowing threadbare cloak, was locked in dire battle with four warriors of this quadrant. Over the continuing clashing of the orchestra a grim voice struck up:

Vigilance. Vigilance must be our watchword now.

The dictate, and the scenes, were familiar enough to Flashthunder. Again though, that one hoped earnestly he wasn’t the only audience-member tonight in whom they wrought the same near-frantic chill every time. Certainly that towering cloaked spectre etched across a holographic screen so high it touched the midnight-blue cosmos felt to Flashthunder a sight sufficient to work universal foreboding, all throughout those who sat scattered in their spaceships along the wide gulley floor. Many of these vessels, including Flashthunder’s own, were two-seaters. And sitting beside him was the reason he was anxious not to show he was scared.

These images, taken on Earth during the war, prove The Foretold One is among us. He has travelled back in time, no doubt to speed us to a new war, in which he will play a part that requires no introduction for any citizen of our galaxy. The war anticipated for a thousand generations. The war we now know will happen in our lifetime. The war which threatens final and absolute desolation for the entire quadrant.

She moved to him, softly through the dim apocalyptic glow. A rustling of petticoats and a dozen tiny perfume-starbursts were tingling prelude to Cherry’s physical presence touching warmth upon the body beneath the Flash Club tunic. It should have been the sweetest of moments, and indeed Flashthunder wanly supposed he must be the envy of braver boys right now. He had kept the promise he made to Neetra, and surely felt something of that excitement brave boys might have felt when Cherry agreed to the first date even now commencing. But had it been for this? For the pair of them to cling helpless to each other before the prospect of losing forever home and family and team-mates, and everything they knew laid waste?

Harbin, a ragged raven in flight, hurtled across Earth-skies until the tracking-shot abruptly froze, etching his silhouette like a rip in the serene. The orator made an end, as mighty block-letters swelled above The Foretold One’s shape and rendered textual form to the booming words:

Vigilance. Vigilance must be our watchword now.

That closing composition of image and transcript, a propaganda-poster writ all too large, bore down on Flashthunder for many agonizing seconds more while the crescendo rumbled out its ominous last. Only when it was over, and the newsreels had shifted into a far milder key, did the Mini-Flash gradually begin to register other facets of his situation through the waning terror.

Had Cherry been as frightened as he? Flashthunder was by now aware that for all her galactically-renowned vocal talents, she didn’t talk much. Nor had she left his side since the public service announcement ended, and the gentle press of her was fast sparking a whole new whirl of uncontrollable emotions in the overwrought Mini-Flash. However, even despite this, he somehow knew his companion was not altogether happy. One of her hands had risen to his chest where it was starting to stroke softly, and yet there was no doubt in Flashthunder that this gesture was not romantic but sorrowful.

He looked down, and seeing by the holo-screen’s glow, understood why.

Rushing back on Flashthunder all at once was the meeting-hall at Headquarters, crowded to capacity on an afternoon not long ago. “The era of Lightning is behind us,” new leader Storm-Sky had announced from the lectern. “Friends we once were, but my Flash Club shall no longer parade the insignia of he who would have sold our values and beliefs to Dimension Borg’s Solidity. We will honour instead my immediate predecessor, who defied Lightning’s corruptions and kept The Flash Club alive. I herewith declare a new tradition, in which each leader of our organization will pay their respects to the one before!”

And throwing back the curtain Storm-Sky disclosed amid uproarious applause an array of crisp pristine uniforms, latest masterpieces by The Flash Club’s resident designer Miss Love. There was everything from tight-fitting adult bodysuits to short-skirted Mini-Flash wear, and each and every article was emblazoned not with the yellow lightning-bolt of yore but rather a starlike delineation in the same colour, representing a teleport.

“So after my time,” Storm-Sky had added with a twinkle in his eye, “I trust you’ll adopt a purple thundercloud.”

Thus it was that Cherry, quietly entwined with Flashthunder in solitude, ran a restless hand back and forth along the symbol of Neetra Neetkins. Storm-Sky’s immediate predecessor, and hers.

Others before Flashthunder had pondered whether Cherry was in some way psychic, and if so, her disdain for linguistic conversation might indicate a preference for communicating her feelings on deeper and more direct levels. The Mini-Flash himself knew nothing yet of the bond that seemed to have formed between Cherry and Neetra, nor of the pivotal moment in the latter’s life which both girls had somehow shared across the universe’s span. However, even in his unawareness of this strange connection, Flashthunder apprehended well enough Cherry’s need to remind him that here amid the waiting hush of his starship’s cabin, three was apparently still a crowd.

She was right too, and Flashthunder knew it. There remained a transition to be made, a divide to be bridged. Whatever wonders might yet come to pass between Flashthunder and this celebrated diva of a dozen solar-systems, her haughty heavy-lidded eyes tinged with otherworldly sadness as she held her fabled face near, could not yet win free of that which had once been and was never to be again. What he and Neetra had shared while fighting for the sake of all creation was not easily cast off, though Flashthunder knew all about Joe and was resigned to the futility of clinging to his memories. Even still, in the limpid celluloid illumination before him Cherry was indubitably beautiful but seemed only half there. Here an upturned cheek or thigh or upper arm were opalescent crescents of misty moons, glimmering softly against the dark matter of her tresses and gown. Finding his way from Cherry’s cosmic transience back to raging hearts and incendiary lips and that primal energy which had once coursed through two young bodies in synthesis was a journey Flashthunder as yet knew not how to begin.

From Owioo to Grindotron, Dexon to Merehpolis, Acheldama to Mnulx, it’s where we live and where we make our lives. Here’s hoping the new lunar cycle is starting out in pleasant fashion for all of you, and as that brings us to the end of the news headlines, this is the Interplanetary Broadcasting Service saying sit back, and enjoy tonight’s feature presentation.

The gulley, closed in at the far end by the enormous cinema-screen, was walled by a pair of sheer-sided flat-topped black mountains. From one of these twin level summits, overlooking the numerous starships which resembled toys on the ravine floor, were Joe and Flashtease. They had sat thus far on the edge, beside their crimson-coloured interplanetary racer which was parked at hand, but now Joe stood as the opening-credits began to roll.

“We should stay and watch,” his companion put in.

“I only come here for the newsreels, Flashtease,” Joe replied. And then, not for the first time lately, he reflected on how old he was starting to feel.

Flashtease however was wearing a small mischievous smile. “They’re not here for the movie either,” he explained. “Sorry to live up to my name. But I really think you should see this.”

Joe smiled back, and sat down again. “Then I shall abide by your judgement,” said he. “Usually it proves to be sound policy. I have come to rely on you, Flashtease.”

This was spoken with the utmost sincerity. It still surprised Joe that he should have found such a devotee in a boy so alien to the planet where it all began, and yet The Four Heroes’ cause had become as inseparable from the very concept of Flashtease as his freckles or his bright yellow underwear. Joe guessed that their becoming closer as friends over this recent time had at least something to do with their both having been forced to grow up a good deal during the war, but there was clearly more to it than this. Flashtease seemed to know what our hero was thinking.

“The cause is the only reason I’m still walking around, Joe,” he said simply. “I’ve the best reason of all for believing in it, and wanting to spread the word. Anyone here in my galaxy who we reach, like you and The Four Heroes reached D’Carthage, might go on to save somebody else’s life like he did for me. And, what’s more…”

Struggling a little for words that would suffice, the Mini-Flash threw open both arms to encompass not only his immediate surroundings, but also broadly the corner of reality to which he referred.

“So the war against Harbin’s coming, everyone says it is,” Flashtease went on. “And right around the time it all starts to kick off, everything in this quadrant changes. Suddenly there’s a whole other gender which barely existed before. No-one’s figured out what it means, but if you ask me, it’s all starting to look connected. Maybe your planet and our galaxy have always been connected. That’s why I think the answers we’re looking for are going to turn up there, in The Four Heroes’ cause. And that’s also why I think you should stay for this,” he concluded. Then, after giving his bright yellow ones a quick untuck and rearranging his tunic in a characteristically pointless gesture towards modesty, Flashtease settled down to watch.

END OF CHAPTER ONE