Welcome-Wagon

Joe parked the interplanetary racer down on the landing-pad and put the handbrake on. Then he paused.

Flashtease, in the passenger-seat beside him, asked sympathetically: “All set?”

Turning to his Mini-Flash friend, and the misty female Mini-Flash named Flashshadow who was sitting companionably on Flashtease’s knee, Joe mustered his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

“I entertained no illusions that this was going to be easy,” our hero declared.

His gaze remained thoughtfully on the two Mini-Flashes. For Joe, there was already a surreal enough gap between the reality he faced and that which it somehow resembled, but it was perfectly in keeping with that reigning strangeness that he happened to know he and Neetra were destined to be parents to boy and girl twins. In another life, today should have been a happy day. An uncle coming out of hospital, and he and Neetra driving with the children to the grandparents’ house to welcome him home with the other in-laws. Sunshine on the garden, a big family dinner, and maybe a good film on television that night. A day his son and daughter would look back on when they were older.

Joe could only hope he would indeed enjoy many such future occasions with the Royal Clan Neetkins, and that his first gesture towards one was not going to set the tone. For today there was no Neetra, and Flashtease and Flashshadow were not his offspring, and these were the least of the differences between Joe’s present situation and the festivities he had been imagining.

Our hero took a last deep breath and exited his car, both Mini-Flashes close at hand. From the launch-pad stretched a descending ramp, beyond which were outspread the architectural wonders of Planet Grindotron in splendid array. Ahead of these glittering citadels, however, at the foot of the ramp, three figures were waiting.

Foremost among them was Dr. James Neetkins, his arms folded.

James’s posture did not change as Joe and the Mini-Flashes proceeded down the incline towards him. Our hero had not expected it to, for the truth was that every living being on this world who boasted a drop of human blood Joe had managed to part from on ill terms, and most of them with some extremely hard words thrown in for good measure. Indeed, Joe would have been appreciative if the welcoming-committee had included Phoenix Prime, who on their last encounter had had her henchman punch his lights out. It would have set him on slightly more of an even footing if there’d been someone here who owed him an apology, instead of the other way round.

Behind James stood his wife, Professor Iskira Neetkins, and their eldest daughter Carmilla, both resplendent with that Martian beauty into which Neetra herself was fast growing. It merely added to Joe’s existing pains to see the image of his absent love duplicated twice over thus, but that was not the only reason his eyes lingered longer than they might have done on Carmilla. She had undergone a striking change in wardrobe. Her gold and scarlet Four Heroes uniform was no more, and in its place were the simple beige-coloured tunic and knee-length boots of an entry-level Mini-Flash.

Joe could not help noting this with great interest. There, perhaps, was the even footing he’d looked for.

“We were on our way somewhere else,” our hero greeted his stony-faced hosts, feeling something ought to be said.

“Flashtease,” James addressed the Mini-Flash composedly. “’Tis guid tae see ye again, at any rate.”

Joe sighed.

“I watch the newsreels, Sir,” he continued to James. “Did you think I would not come?”

“Tae gie yuir best wishes tae yuir friend,” the other returned, very dryly.

“Yes,” Joe flung back, trying to keep his temper. “And you know my other reason.”

“Funny thing is, laddie, we’ve a’ been able tae celebrate Dylan’s return tae health wi’oot shaming oor Phoenix for anything she may or may not hae done in bringing her young man back tae us,” James pronounced formidably. “And if that’s why ye’re here, ye can hop back intae that swish little space-jalopy o’ yours and scoot off the way ye came. I’m no’ having ye take away the joy frae any daughter o’ mine wi’ yuir talk o’ compromises tae The Four Heroes’ cause. Ye seem tae hae forgotten o’ late that Dylan’s juist as much one o’ The Four Heroes as ye are, and some o’ us hae been fighting for the cause almost as lang as the twa o’ ye. There’s naeone in my family wha has the slightest reservations aboot what Phoenix did.”

Joe hadn’t wanted to speak it out loud. Even now, it still felt a little smug and beneath him. But after that last proclamation from James, it was needed.

“Carmilla,” said he, turning to her. “You look well in your new ensemble.”

It was not vindictively meant. Anything but, indeed. For Carmilla had stated her position emphatically to Joe when last they stood face-to-face, hearkening back to the first time she donned her Four Heroes uniform and begging her attendee: “Promise me, Joe, no matter what’s ahead, I won’t still be wearing it even after you’ve forgotten what it stands for.” Smaller men than he would have been quick to point out that Carmilla could now make herself easy on that score. Our hero though knew no such petty triumph to see her clad as she was today, only earnest gladness at how it hinted he had at least one ally in all this. The Flash Club-Toothfire alliance, especially the latter, was well pleased with this Grindotron contingent at the present time. That much had been splashed all over the newsreels, and Carmilla surely was entitled to sport their colours with pride. It was through her forsaking the emblem of The Four Heroes in preference to these, however, that her very appearance neatly put the lie to her father’s words.

“Flash Club surplus store on one of the moons,” Carmilla explained to Joe. Then, as if granting him victory in an argument, added: “My other one didn’t feel quite right.”

Joe repaid her honesty with a confidential smile. The message meanwhile was not lost on James, whose face wore an expression of “maybe so” as he moved on to his next subject.

“Ye were the last tae see oor Neetra, I believe?” he demanded of Joe.

“I was,” Joe replied. Under the circumstances it seemed wisest not to go into further details.

“And I suppose ye didnae trouble yuirself tae find oot whaur she was going, even though ye ken she has parents wha are worrying aboot her?” persisted James. “Nae, I’ll wager ye’ve nae better idea whaur she is than we, and care less, sae lang as she finds her way back tae ye and no’ us in the end. I dinnae ken why ye cannae be like the rest o’ The Four Heroes, Joe. One’s family a’ready, and maybe Dylan will be one day, but ye seem tae want nothing more than tae pull us apart. Whether ye’re making Neetra choose between us, or looking tae start trouble wi’ Phoenix, or juist noo when ye turned my other daughter against me, trying tae make me look a fool. If ye think I’m going tae stand fuir it…!”

Iskira laid her hand on James’s arm. “My husband,” she said soothingly.

At that moment a cheerful klaxon tooted out. Drawing up alongside the company was something that looked like a four-wheeled vehicle, but was actually an intelligent robot as were most of Grindotron’s moving machine-parts. This one swung out from its flank disembarkation-steps, and bade its creator good-day as he emerged via these and joined his guests by the ramp.

Grindoes did not use individual identities, but here was one who had become a known name across the galaxy nevertheless. The scientific genius Professor Grindo, Prof to his friends, a wrinkly yellow face in an automated walking-frame, was small of stature but great of presence as he greeted the humanoids thus:

“Following helpful reference to Scientooth’s frankly compendious casework on the horrific effects of anti-matter weaponry upon organic tissue, the human being designated Dylan Cook was successfully revived one quarter-phase ago in the present lunar cycle. He and Miss Phoenix Neetkins have requested a little time alone, for reasons they assure me will be self-explanatory to members of their own species. They will send for you when ready.”

Both Mini-Flashes, male and female, curtsied low. “Professor Grindo!” Flashtease breathed. “It’s an honour to meet so distinguished a personage!”

Prof smiled magnanimously. “Booster,” he said to the vehicular robot, “the full guided tour, I think, for this very well-mannered pair.”

“Hey, great!” beamed Flashtease. He and Flashshadow ran over to Booster, jumped inside, and summarily zoomed off.

“As for the other lad,” Prof went on, inclining his eye-visor thoughtfully at Joe. “Walk with me, young human.”

NEXT: 'CASTLE JAW'