Flinx in Flux

by Alan Dean Foster

  Now he turned on the other side and repositioned the gate for her. “Come on. Unless you’d rather stand out in the street.”

  Unable to concoct a reason for hesitating, she did as he instructed, bending to slip under his arm as he held the gate for her.

  Safely inside the barrier, he gave the gate a magician’s twist and she gaped as it collapsed back into his hand. He slipped the packet back into his pocket.

  “Doppler deck,” he explained. “Bends light around you. It can’t make you invisible, but under the right conditions you can fake it pretty well. Bent the sensors around both of us. We didn’t interrupt them. Just made them avoid us.”

  “Fascinating.” She followed him as he strode rapidly across the lightly paved yard. “Expensive?”

  He nodded. “It’s not the sort of toy you’d find at a special sale. It’s a precision instrument designed to look like junk, which is costly. When I was younger, I used something like it that was a lot cruder. Sometimes it did what it was supposed to. A lot of the time it didn’t. That was inconvenient at best, embarrassing at worst. I determined that if I could ever afford it, I’d have the best analog equipment made. So I had this built for me.”

  “Is that because you have to frequently override private security procedures?”

  “Not really. I just like to have good tools handy.”

  “You said you used something like it when you were younger. What did you do as a child that required the use of something like that?”

  “I was a thief,” he told her simply. “It was the only way I could survive.”

  “Are you still a thief?”

  “No. Now I pay for everything I need, sooner or later.”

  “More sooner or later?”

  “Depends on my mood.”

  They hurried past the line of vehicles until he halted before the bulky cargo skimmer. Another pocket yielded a folded leatherine wallet that when opened revealed a host of tiny tools. Each was as perfect and beautiful as a jewel. In point of fact, the thranx who had fashioned the wallet and its contents for him was renowned as a jeweler. Such projects as Flinx’s wallet were a hobby for him, a hobby that Flinx knew was more lucrative than the thranx’s admitted profession.

  Choosing one particular instrument, he commenced working on the trisealed secure lock that held the skimmer’s door closed. Though still fearful of immediate attack, Clarity was so absorbed in watching him work that she no longer stared past the photic barrier at the street beyond.

  “You must’ve been a good thief.”

  “I was always considered advanced for my age. I don’t think I’ve improved since, but I have better tools to work with now.”

  The door did not even click when he popped it open. He climbed up and slid in behind the drive controls.

  The ignition was unlocked. It was easier to secure the doors than the engine and power plant. Under his skilled touch the readouts came to life. He glanced approvingly out at Clarity and nodded. Scrap released her hair to flutter into the cab, taking up a resting position on the back of the passenger’s seat.

  Elsewhere skimmers had open cabs, but not on Alaspin. Here all were enclosed, air-conditioned, and bug-resistant. Which would be especially nice as they were going to be traveling at night, he knew.

  Clarity grabbed a handle and pulled herself up beside him. She closed her door and turned to regard him in amazement. “You know, I’m beginning to believe you actually have a chance of getting us offworld. You sure you’re only—” She caught herself. “Sorry. I promised not to mention that again, didn’t I?”

  “You did.”

  The skimmer made more of a racket on low lift than he had hoped it would, but since the service yard he had penetrated was presumed secure, there was no need for a human guard to be kept on duty. The security monitor would report anything unusual to a central facility as well as to the district police.

  Since there was no dome or solid roof, he assumed the presence of a short-range security blanket, close cousin to the photic wall he had already sidestepped. That would be necessary to prevent any would-be thieves or vandals from simply flying in over the wall. He also expected vehicles inside the wall to be appropriately equipped with the means for negating it. A couple of minutes’ work with the skimmer’s onboard ‘pute produced the requisite broadcast code. He punched it in and waited patiently for it to notify the company’s central security facility.

  Hopefully no one would read the evening’s report until morning. By then the absence of the big skimmer would probably have been noted visually. It would take time to determine that no night deliveries or pickups had been scheduled, more time to make certain the skimmer had not been borrowed by an authorized driver or executive. By the time Alaspinport authorities could be informed of its presumed theft and provided with a description, its nocturnal riders would have abandoned it none the worse for wear except for run-down batteries. For the use of which, he unnecessarily mentioned to Clarity, he intended to pay.

  They had one bad moment as the skimmer lifted eighty meters above the yard and turned left out of the city. Out in the commercial district, away from the bars and simulated strip joints and stimclubs, few lights showed below—until a smaller, much faster skimmer shot by hard aport. Clarity yelped and tried to duck between the seats while Scrap rose and darted in all directions at once, getting in Flinx’s way and causing minor havoc with his steering.

  Flinx had a brief, appalling glimpse of the other vehicle as it veered sharply to the left without banking. Laughing, probably drunk young faces given ghostly life by the skimmer’s internal lights leered at him for an instant and were gone.

  “Kids.” He looked down and to his right. “Get up. Your friends haven’t found us. It was just kids out joyriding. Not much else to do in a place like Mimmisompo. Even scientists and prospectors have kids.”

  They were out over raw jungle now, heading for the immense savanna that bordered both sides of the Aranoupa River. Following the river southwest would take them to the granite outcropping occupied by Alaspinport, a crooked finger of land extending out into the sea.

  She rose slowly, fright fading from her face like a temporary tan. She looked small, vulnerable, and afraid.

  “I’m sorry. It was just so unexpected. Everything was going so well. You were handling everything so smoothly.”

  “I’m still handling things smoothly.” His attention wandered from the night sky to the readout that showed their position relative to Mimmisompo and Alaspinport. Their transportation might be a well-used antique, but the internal electronics were reassuringly up-to-date.

  Sitting back in her seat, she rubbed at her eyes with the backs of both hands, then looked over at him. “You’re sure it was just a bunch of kids?”

  He nodded. “Seventeen, eighteen. Mimmisompo’s not a bad place for someone without education or training to try for a fortune.”

  “Like you, maybe? Except you aren’t a kid.”

  Feeling it appropriate under the circumstances, he tried to smile and discovered that he could not. “I was born old. I was never a kid. No, that’s not quite it; I was born tired.”

  “I don’t believe you. I think you just like to pretend that you’re slow and tired to keep others from trying to find out more about you.”

  “Can’t you just accept the fact that I’m a quiet loner who likes his peace and quiet and privacy?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I think I know you better than that already, if you’ll excuse my presumption. You are also the strangest young man I’ve ever met in my life. I guess you’ll be upset if I add that I find you particularly attractive, too.”

  “No. You can tell me that all you want.” He was afraid she would do just that, but she did not. Apparently his reply was all she had wanted to hear.

  It was the last question, for a while, anyway. She nestled back into her seat and gazed silently out at the empty Alaspinian night. Meanwhile he worried about t
he absence of a decent scanner. The skimmer was equipped with standard delivery system electronics, which meant you could always tell where you were but had no idea where anyone else was. It would help when they reached Alaspinport and he sought to abandon the vehicle in a safe place, but it was useless for trying to find out if you were being paralleled, followed, or otherwise tracked.

  Pip could detect hostile intent, but only over a short distance. The minidrag was sound asleep, exhausted by her earlier exertions in his defense. Even Scrap rested, a gleaming scaly bracelet lit by the glow of the skimmer’s instrumentation.

  He preferred to assume their departure had gone undetected than to think of Clarity’s assailants trailing them just out of sight. By now they must be combing, the alleys and buildings around the hotel. The likelihood of their discovering the missing cargo skimmer and connecting it to their quarry was small. He reminded himself that he had no idea how extensive or advanced their tracking equipment might be.

  He would have preferred company in the sky. The lone cargo skimmer would stand out on any plotting screen. Few people chose to travel across the treetops at night.

  There he went, borrowing trouble again. Tiring himself out mentally dealing with a nonexistent threat. Better to conserve himself for real danger.

  A glance showed his companion still alert and staring out the window. “Try to get some sleep. The sun’ll be up soon.”

  “I’ll sleep when I’m off Alaspin and in space-plus. The last time I tried to sleep, I had a rude awakening.” She indicated the instruments. “Can’t this hulk go any faster?”

  “It’s not built for speed. I picked it because I thought it would be the most inconspicuous on a screen and the most likely to be parked on full charge. I could have chosen something smaller, more maneuverable, and quicker. We could also have run out of power in the middle of the savanna. You don’t want to try walking out of the Aranoupa savanna. The surface has a nasty habit of turning to sludge underfoot, and its full of unpleasant things that don’t react kindly to having their habitat disturbed. Better we get to Alaspinport slowly but surely.

  “Besides, anyone hunting you would first go after an obvious passenger craft, not a clunker like this.”

  “You’ve worked it out very carefully. And I thought you just grabbed the first machine you thought you could break-into.”

  “I could have broken into any of them. And I’m sure I’ve still overlooked something important.”

  “You know,” she said admiringly, “I think I’ll be better off if I just shut up and let you take care of me instead of asking stupid questions.”

  “That’s the first thing you’ve said since I met you that justifies your name.”

  She shook her head but could not repress a smile. “Awfully young to be so sarcastic.” She turned back to the window and the dark view outside.

  The skimmer was moving right at a hundred and fifty kph, clearing the tops of the tallest grasses by a good fifty meters. Occasionally Flinx would angle left or right simply to vary their course and confuse any plotting computer that might be tracking them. Significant variations would waste too much power. He wanted to keep enough of a charge in the skimmer’s cells to approach Alaspinport in a wide curve, from the ocean side instead of from the savanna. That would further confuse anyone trying to tail them.

  “How much longer?”

  He checked the dash cartographic readout. “Straight line from Mimmisompo to Alaspinport is about fourteen hundred kilometers. We’ll be there in time for lunch. You don’t mind if we skip eating, do you? Not that I wouldn’t mind something, but I don’t want to waste time in a restaurant.”

  “I’m hungry right now.”

  He sighed. “Have a look around. This is a working machine. I don’t see a protein synthesizer, but I’ll bet there’s an internal still for condensing drinking water out of the air. There might be flavorings or concentrates somewhere. A heavy-duty cloud banger like this might come equipped with emergency rations in case the driver is forced down somewhere.”

  “I’ll have a look.”

  It took her half an hour to produce fruit-flavored ration bars and juice concentrates to add to the water the skimmer drew from the sky. The result was a nutritious if pedestrian meal. Human fuel.

  Once back on the Teacher he could offer her a real repast. It had elaborate synthesizing facilities. A candlelight dinner simulated by electronics. Repair robots rapidly reprogrammed to serve as butlers and waiters. He grinned to himself. He could make a real production out of it, impress her with his resources and skills. And did he want to impress her? He tried not to glance furtively in her direction.

  She had offered to help drive, and he had turned her down. The long flight relaxed him. He was much more comfortable with electronics than with people.

  Sure, why not impress her? Maybe on board the Teacher, back in familiar surroundings, he would be able to relax in her presence. Get to know her and find out if she was half as brilliant as she thought she was. Certainly whoever was chasing her had a high opinion of her abilities.

  She was not the only one torn with curiosity, he reflected as he smoothly guided the skimmer into a slow turn westward.

  Chapter Six

  Since no ship rose to intercept them or question their presence, he felt reasonably safe in approaching Alaspin on a narrower path than he had originally planned, coming in from the north instead of the east. When he was fifty kilometers out, he swerved sharply onto a straight heading for the shuttleport, saving a half hour’s flight time.

  They passed over the broad northern bay with its deserted white sand beaches, shadowing half a dozen low-flying sea skimmers that were working the shellfish beds off the inner reef. Alaspin’s extensive, shallow oceans were ideal breeding grounds for shellfish, both native and introduced varieties, but the industry was just getting started. Most of what was gathered was for local consumption. Not that he cared about making money, it was just that all his life he had been around people for whom commerce was the raison d’être, and he could not avoid picking up a little of their way of thinking. Mother Mastiff, for example, preferred to talk about different ways of making money above all else.

  He had acquired, however, greater concerns than building a fortune. Money was, after all, nothing more than a means for securing freedom, and freedom was the precursor to learning. And learning? What was learning for? He had not quite decided that one yet.

  Hell, I’m only nineteen. Think about Clarity Held instead, he told himself. Better still, think about her legs and—he clamped down ruthlessly on that line of thought. Not yet. Don’t think about that yet. For now, concentrate on making it safely back to the Teacher.

  Alaspinport’s underside was single-story gritty, bubbling with temporary storage domes whose sole purpose was to separate goods within from fauna and climate without. The few tall structures tended to cluster along the high ridge of land that formed a bluff overlooking the ocean at the end of the port peninsula.

  The shuttleport itself occupied a section of cleared Savanna south of the main city. Though it slowed them down, Flinx inserted the skimmer in the automatic traffic guide pattern above town. It offered anonymity and convenience. Clarity was delighted to be back among crowds, sensing false safety in civilization.

  Instead of requesting formal landing permission at the port, he set down among a cluster of other commercial vehicles near a recharging station. From there it was a short walk to a public tram that let them off inside the port itself.

  There were several private shuttles parked off in their own area. Since no commercial ships hung in orbit that day, the only traffic was atmospheric, aircraft traveling between Crapinia and Mooscoop, frontier towns farther from Alaspinport than even Mimmisompo. The absence of a commercial shuttle lowered Clarity’s spirits.

  “If they’re here, and you can bet they’re all over the port, all they have to do is close in on anything prepping for launch.”

  “Why should they? What business is it of t
heirs if a corporation or family shuttle makes ready to depart? There’s no reason to assume you’d be traveling on one.”

  “But they’ll see me. They’ll be watching all the departure lounges, and they’ll see me.”

  He tried to mute his exasperation. “First of all, while I don’t know what kind of contacts these people have on Alaspin, no one’s allowed in the private shuttle departure lounge without proper clearance.”

  “Then they’ll be watching from just outside.”

  He considered. “Then we’ll just have to get you through without being seen.”

  “How? Disguise?”

  “No. I think there’s a simpler and more effective way.” Overhead luminescent broadband displays directed them to the part of the port he was looking for, where a small man sat in a small office behind a flat LCD screen. He looked up expectantly as they entered.

  “Can I be of service?”

  Flinx pushed toward the narrow barrier that separated work from waiting area. “I want to use the facilities.”

  The man’s welcoming smile faded. “I’m sorry. I’ll be happy to do any work you require, but we’re not a self-service concern. Insurance regulations and all that, you know.”

  Flinx extracted a thin plastic card from his pants, the lock on the card reading his thumbprint and heat signature and obediently detaching it from the securestrip that kept it fastened to the inside of the pocket. It was an ordinary-looking bright blue card.

  “Run this through your show and tell.”

  The man hesitated, then shrugged and complied. Clarity noted that he never did look up from the screen once the card had been decoded.

  “Fix me a price,” Flinx finally told him when the man failed to respond.

  “What?”

  “I said, fix me a price for the use of your equipment.”

  “Price. Sure.” He nodded rapidly, started to rise, then slumped. “I told you that we’re not self-service. I just can’t possibly . . .”