Fiction logo

Solid Gone, Chapter Two

By Doc Sherwood

By Doc SherwoodPublished 3 years ago 8 min read
Like

“Gala was adamant,” Joe continued, “not only of the truth behind her claims, but that I would have come to believe in them too, had her plans for me been allowed to reach fulfilment.”

“Okay, we know she was going to use her last Time-Shifting Device show you all about the Prophecy and the Next Four’s origins,” said Bret, not understanding the problem. “But then the Time-Shifter was destroyed – ”

“Destroyed through no contrivance of Gala’s making,” Joe put in. The look with which he fixed his fellow heroes was imploring and intent. “Do you not see why I am so disconcerted? It would be far easier to believe her words were some mad deliberate lie she then engineered to conceal, but that cannot be so. She had no hand in the Time-Shifter’s loss.”

“Well, no, there’s no way Gala could have set up Harbin nearly killing her to steal it, or Steam going nuts and incinerating The Chancellor’s data on how to build a new one,” Dylan began reasonably. “But – ”

“Her faith in her cause, and in my joining her as a part of it, was genuine,” Joe continued, deep in thought. “If I had only had the chance to hear her out…”

Dylan opened both his hands. “Joe, you must see that leads nowhere!” he cried. “Surely there’s nothing she could have shown you, past, present or future, that would have made you willingly do the thing she asked!”

“Indeed not, and nothing will convince me that The Prophecy of the Flame anticipates my fathering a child by Gala,” Joe replied helplessly. “But I know what it is to believe, my friends. It may be there is no-one whose experiences mirror my own more closely than Gala’s – from the moment I met her I saw that her belief in the Next Four’s destiny was akin to my faith in our cause. It is agonizing for me that I was forced to reject what she held so dear, and perhaps still does, in vain, even to this very hour…”

Neetra looked into his eyes. “If Gala really does think it’s all true, Joe, then she’s just… confused,” the girl said earnestly. “I feel sorry for her if so, but that’s all it means. We’ve already seen proof from the future that the Next Four aren’t going to take over from us like she says, and now she makes this even crazier announcement about how you’re destined to do something we all know you’d never do…it’s getting pretty clear everything she’s told us from the beginning is all in her head. You said yourself it might be possible to believe in a cause just as strongly as you did in ours, but to be wrong.”

“Yeah, Joe, you’ve got to stop clutching at straws over this,” Bret said seriously. “We’ll do the right thing by Gala and help her, if mistaken and misguided’s all she is…but don’t forget, crazy and supervillain go together all too often. What we need to do is find out once and for all which she is, and then take the proper steps to deal with her.”

“Then we should all be happy!” Dylan observed with a laugh. “Listen to us, fretting over the psychological complexity of our new generation of bad guys and lamenting the disappearance of the first…when all along the most old-school of the whole lot’s still very much at large, and we’re off to pay him a visit later today! After returning the favour Blaster-Track Commander did for us, of course, and cleaning up his home sector first!”

“Freeing a galaxy conquered by Dimension Borg – now you’re talking the old days!” Bret declared, making no effort to hide his enthusiasm. “So are we all ready for the off?”

“We’d be on our way now, if this funeral hadn’t come up,” said Dylan. “The Commander’s ship’s all repaired. We’ll be good to go just as soon as we’re home!”

“And once Flashtease is,” Neetra reminded him. “He went off this morning to teach Aloysius and Gussy a game he knows called Flashball, but he said he’ll be back at six. They don’t know what they’re letting themselves in for, he’s completely obnoxious!”

“Six o’clock it is, then,” Dylan grinned. “Just as long as that twin sister of yours is all done packing her high heels and silk stockings and other essentials for intergalactic travel by then!”

“She’s as bad as me,” Neetra agreed, but she smiled warmly as she spoke. “It shows how much you care about her, Dylan, that you insisted on her coming with us. I wouldn’t have wanted her to stay behind either, not while Phoenix Prime’s still out there somewhere…”

“Too right,” was Dylan’s resolute reply. “As long as Phoenix Prime’s here on Earth, the safest place for Phoenix to be is by my side in another galaxy. I’m not letting her out of my sight, not after what we saw – or rather, what we didn’t see – when you guys met your kids…”

Bret put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You don’t know that, Dylan,” said he. “And you don’t need me to tell you, no-one’s better on temporal theory than you! Just because no child of yours and Phoenix’s travelled back to our time with the rest of them, it doesn’t mean Phoenix Prime’s going to succeed in killing her. None of us saw enough on that day to be sure of anything!”

“No, we didn’t, Bret…but I sure know what it looked like,” Dylan returned, stubborn and determined. “That’s why I’m going to do every last thing I can to stand in its way.”

The sound of earth-shaking footsteps told The Four Heroes at this point that they were about to have company. They looked up, to see a rock-man installing his not inconsiderable self at their table.

“I am Kral-it-Gor,” he declaimed, in a voice as immense as he was.

“Um…hi,” Neetra offered in return.

Now that the introductions were done with, nothing more seemed to be forthcoming from Kral-it-Gor. Her merely sat, rigid and unspeaking, and his expressionless face did not change. Under one arm he was carrying what looked like a stone bucket of the steaming drink. It was nearly empty, and nor did it appear to be his first.

“Look, pal, you know we’re here as guests, right?” Bret began. “And we’re not looking for any trouble – ”

“I do not seek to revive old enmities, Four Heroes,” said Kral-it-Gor. “Rather, I come to beg of you a boon.”

Our heroes might have been justified in expecting details to follow this pronouncement, but if so, they were to be disappointed. All that ensued was another silence. Nevertheless they waited patiently, and sure enough, after about a minute Kral-it-Gor commenced:

“There has been too much war.”

Joe raised his cup to him. “In that sentiment we are of one mind, Sir,” he said.

Kral-it-Gor reciprocated with another lengthy stare. Then he went on:

“My firstborn son commands one of the three battalions that now serve under Phoenix Prime. He is all I have. The Retrograde Bomb took his brothers, every last one.”

“I’m sorry,” Neetra said tenderly, touching his massive hand.

“There has been too much war,” the rock-man said again, in his deep solemn voice.

Once again he fell into stony stillness. At great length, Bret interjected: “Listen, Kral-it-Gor, did you say you had a favour to ask us? You can come right out with it. Just at the moment this is kind of like getting blood from a…ah, well, you know.”

“I do not ask that you show my son leniency, Four Heroes,” Kral-it-Gor resumed sternly. “He will show you none, when you meet on the field of battle. There you will be enemies, and he will follow his leader’s every command without question.”

“You must make good soldiers,” Dylan commented. “Someone gives you an order and it’s engraved in…ah, well, you know.”

The rock-man finished off his bucket at one draught. “He wrote to me,” were his next words. “So my one request, Four Heroes, is that when you are back in your surface world you deliver to him my reply. Will you do this thing, if of course I furnish you with the return address he sent?”

All of a sudden, Kral-it-Gor had our heroes’ undivided attention.

“Do you mean to say,” Dylan began, his voice soft and slow, “that your son wrote and told you where Phoenix Prime is…and you’ll tell us…if we just agree to bring a letter to him?”

“Your reputation for generosity is well-deserved, Four Heroes,” Kral-it-Gor intoned.

From under his other arm he produced the letter, which was carved onto what looked like an irregularly-shaped slab of pavement. This he clapped onto the table with a deafening noise. Across its surface sprawled the twisty intricate runes of the rock-men’s written language, while chipped neatly into the upper right-hand corner, in legible human script, were the co-ordinates of Phoenix Prime’s present location.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

Series
Like

About the Creator

Doc Sherwood

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.