What Psiona Saw, Chapter Three

Psiona insisted on setting up some test-tubes at once, and even the scarcely-there hints of vanilla-pod and laundered linen which were her idea of smelling were much needed by 4-H-N just then. Having sniffed a few, she could feel a little of what was in her starting to settle. The girls sat on either side of the circular tea-table, Psiona’s chemistry kit between them, and she for a time waiting in patience while 4-H-N’s tiny flaring nostrils did the work.

“So it doesn’t prove anything,” said Psiona at last, once her own freckled nose was descrying sufficient hints of cheesecake and bedsheets about the pervasive stuffiness.

“What else could it have been?” returned 4-H-N, without looking up.

Psiona opened her hands. “What I said to you after the lecture was abrupt,” she confessed, “but true. Being a psychic isn’t like watching a movie, 4-H-N. What you just saw is all I have. I wasn’t lying when I told you I couldn’t offer hard facts. The mind has very little to do with those. At any rate, not when you get into it as I do.”

“You also told me Carmilla wouldn’t have lied,” 4-H-N reminded her. “All I was hoping for was that she’d somehow been wrong. But now, taking her story together with what you…”

She couldn’t finish, but Psiona indicated she knew what 4-H-N meant, and expressed solemn agreement.

The smaller girl rose to her feet, and treated Psiona to a full révérence.

That one looked a little embarrassed. “Carmilla didn’t curtsey,” she pointed out.

“Carmilla was never a Mini-Flash,” declared 4-H-N. “And you’ve earned it, Psiona. You’ve really helped. I know what I have to do now. And on that note, I’ve got to be going,” she rounded off, exuding boldness and confidence just like one of the founding members of the Avion Girls Task Force.

Or rather, she’d meant for it to come out that way. 4-H-N had to admit, she didn’t quite pull it off. Yet still it was a mystery why Psiona had started to look at her as she was doing.

“I think the last Grindotron shuttle will have gone,” said the senior, very gently. “You’d better stay the night, 4-H-N. You can call Iskira and James from here.”

Her addressee couldn’t help but think a telepath ought to have known there was nothing about Grindotron bouncing round her head right now. No, 4-H-N was headed straight for Nottingham, to rescue Mini-Flash Juniper. Because 4-H-N could take care of herself and the galaxy in general had better believe it, in fact she’d probably stop off on the way for another wrestling match with the first security-lodge that talked back to her, but Jenny was vulnerable and there could be no rest until she was away from Joe. Indeed, the best thing was probably for 4-H-N to save the other two while she was at it, even the one she didn’t get on with, seeing as she was going there anyway. Get the whole trio tucked up at Flashlab Central with the rest of their sleeping sorority and that would be a good night’s work, and Storm-Sky would approve because he’d practically told 4-H-N it was what he wanted her to do, and…

And…

But it wasn’t any use.

It had been so horrible.

The sight of Psiona, broken and dehumanized, just wouldn’t stop coming back.

Tears were rolling down 4-H-N’s cheeks.

Why couldn’t the forces of destiny which had decided to make her so important also understand she was only one girl, caught up in it all?

Yet a second later 4-H-N was alone no more, but instead warm and comforted in an embrace which tickled with lovely white scents. The slim hands she so admired she could now feel upon her hair, pressing her cheek to a beige bosom, while whispers 4-H-N barely knew for words freed at last what she had striven so hard to bear within her own. From then on there wasn’t much more besides Psiona’s bodice, and chokes and sobs and heaves which soaked the fabric through.

How 4-H-N had missed having a big sister in her life.

All of hers were so far away, and Psiona tonight had had to step up for many of their important offices.

Such as calling Grindotron, then lending 4-H-N something to sleep in, then putting her to bed and giving her a goodnight kiss which had started her off all over again.

She knew now why Carmilla had loved that scarlet-headed sixth-former, and why she herself henceforth would too. As for the rest of it…

Oh, the rest of it. The rest of it.

Don’t pretend it isn’t war, was all.

Just like that song. The one the younger Mini-Flashes had been singing lately.

At first 4-H-N hadn’t cared greatly for it. Now all of a sudden, it couldn’t but strike her how altogether apt the lyrics were.

In fact, they were her final thought before falling into a long and troubled slumber.

Don’t pretend it isn’t war.

THE END