Flinx in Flux

by Alan Dean Foster

  “The floats. Yellow and blue. That’s because many lifeforms here are still dependent on food drifting in from above. The wind and rain and heat make it almost impossible for anything like higher fauna to survive, but some plants have done well and spread out. There’s nothing on the surface to feed on them. So the organic matter they produce finds its way into cave openings and sinkholes. There’s a whole ecosystem dependent on the transition zone between inside and outside. The floats are part of that. So they have coloration, while most of the creatures that thrive in the deep cave system have lost all pigment entirely. It’s quite an experience to see something like a goralact, which is a pretty good-size animal, about the mass of a cow. But it has six legs and is almost transparent. You can watch the blood coursing through it like a diagram in a junior physiology program. Almost everything we’ve encountered has eyes of some sort, but they’re mostly vestigial. The best of them can distinguish shape. The majority do well to react to bright light. There’s even one, the photomorph, that uses it to its advantage.”

  “What the hell’s a photomorph?” Pip fluttered her wings as the car banked sharply around a curve, then relaxed on his shoulder.

  “You’ll see.” She was grinning at him. “When one attacks.”

  He was mildly alarmed. “Attacks? Should I be ready for something?” He viewed the tunnel ahead in a different light.

  “Oh, no. Photomorphs and their relatives are harmless to humans. They don’t know that, the poor things, so they keep trying. If you let one get on you, it could be dangerous, but they’re easy enough to avoid. They don’t rely on speed when they attack.”

  He pondered the photomorph until the car halted. Clarity led him through a succession of caverns and passageways where the cave formations had been leveled. He could hear other voices clearly. It was not surprising, since sound traveled well inside a cavern. There were brief glimpses inside large rooms separated from others by spray-fiber walls. If one put up a mesh frame, sprayed a color over it, and waited until it hardened, one had a solid partition—the cheapest kind of construction.

  She stopped outside a door set in a wall painted a garish shade of blue. The door admitted them to a room occupied by a man not much older than Clarity. He was tall, and black hair worked at covering his face.

  “Clarity!” He brushed nervously at the hair. “Christ, where have you been? Everyone’s been worried sick, and the brass all have sealed mouths on the subject.”

  “Never mind that now, Jase. I’ve a lot to say, and I have to say it to Vandervort first so she can take appropriate steps.” She indicated Flinx. “This is my friend. So’s the flying snake lounging on his neck. So’s the one on my neck—it’s under my hair, so don’t go hunting for it.”

  The tall young man’s eyes traveled from Flinx to Pip and back to Clarity. His expression radiated delight. “Hell, I’ve got to tell everyone you’re back.” He started to turn, then hesitated. “But you said you wanted to tell Vandervort first.”

  “Just details. You can slip the news to Tangerine and Jimmy and the rest.”

  “Good—sure. Hey, you want to come in?” He stepped aside to make a path.

  Flinx followed Clarity into the extensive lab as Jase dashed for the nearest wall comm to spread the news. “Sounds like you’ve been missed, like you said you would be.”

  “One or two projects probably came to a complete stop in my absence. I’m not boasting. That’s just how it is.”

  Flinx admired the state-of-the-art equipment lining tables and walls, the gleaming surfaces, the spotless plexalloyware. There were four technicians at work in the chamber, two robotic, two human. All looked over at the visitors, waved, and returned to their work.

  “Thranx work for Coldstripe also?”

  “A couple. It’s pretty chilly down here for them. If not for the wind, they’d prefer it topside. They do most of the maintenance work on the turbines. The constant humidity helps, and they enjoy underground work naturally. So they wear heat suits. Their own living areas are roofed over and steamed up all the time inside. Good way to get sick: Go from any cavern into Marlacyno’s quarters. An instant twenty-degree jump.”

  They walked through a subdividing door, then a second, and Flinx found himself in a room alive with hisses, squeals, and whines, none of which were being generated electronically.

  “Specimen storage,” Clarity informed him unnecessarily.

  Flinx didn’t recognize any of the creatures cavorting in the holding cages. Thin wire of varying grades kept them restrained. All of it was translucent.

  “Carbfiber base.” Clarity touched a nearly invisible wire. “Keeps them in but relaxed. There isn’t the feeling of being caged. Here’s the one I wanted you to see.”

  He looked in the indicated direction and was momentarily blinded when an intense light lit his face. Stars danced on his retinas as his vision cleared. Clarity was chuckling at him, and he realized that she must have shut her eyes at the critical moment.

  “That’s the photomorph I was telling you about. I said you’d see it when it attacked. You’d think they’d realize it’s too bright in here for their own light to have much effect, but since they can hardly see, they probably don’t realize how diluted their weapons are.”

  As his sight returned, Flinx could see several of the creatures slowly moving from the back of their cage toward the front. Each was about half a meter in length, the same as the floats, and was covered with a fine gray fur that formed something not unlike a long handlebar mustache below the double nostrils. The snout was short, blunt, and filled with sharp triangular teeth. The nostrils sat on the tip of a four-centimeter-long trunk. Each of the four legs ended in a clawed three-toed foot. The claws were hooked and looked extremely sharp. The translucent bars of the cage appeared far too fragile to hold such squat, muscular creatures in check, but he was confident they were stronger than they looked.

  The photomorphs were advancing in slow motion, like sloths.

  “They’ll stop when they reach the front of the cage and realize they can’t get at us. They have hardly any eyes at all. In their case that’s an offensive adjustment. I told you there were carnivores here.”

  “If they can’t see us, how do they know we’re here? Smell?”

  She nodded. “Other carnivores have lines of electric sensors along their faces and bodies so they can detect the presence of prey by the faint pulses every body generates. Still others have sensors to detect the movement of a prey animal, by analyzing air currents and pressures. Look at the top of the head, where you’d expect to find ears.”

  Flinx stood on tiptoes to do so and found a double line of slightly glassy beads.

  “You might mistake them for eyes, but there are no pupils or irises. They’re photogenerators. They build up the light in their bodies until they let loose with that single bright flare to stun their prey. Remember that most of the higher animals we’ve classified have the ability to detect light in darkness. So the photomorph puts out an impressive number of lumens and overwhelms the prey’s photosensors. It’s a real brain jolt and usually stuns for several minutes. Call it a phototoxin. While the animal is sitting there stunned, the photomorph and his companions wander over leisurely and start making a meal of it.”

  Flinx was duly impressed. “I’ve heard of creatures that use light to lure their prey, but not to actually attack it with.”

  “You’d be shocked at the kind of offensive and defensive weaponry animals can develop in the absence of light. The xenologists here are surprised by something new every time they make another field expedition. Longtunnel’s lifeforms are unique, and that’s why we’re here. To study potentially useful varieties.”

  Flinx nodded in the direction of the caged photomorphs. “How might something like that be useful?”

  “Other biophotics like fireflies and deep-sea fish generate their light chemically; the photomorph employs an electronic process that’s never been seen before. No matter how efficient we get, there’s always a
market for still another way of generating light and power. Our people don’t have a clue to what makes the photomorph tick, but they’re working on it.”

  “And you don’t have a clue either?”

  “Not one of my projects. I’m busy enough. It’s good to be busy down here. There’s not much else to do except for recreational spelunking and forming casual assignations.” She led him out of the zoo. “Given a little more food and a little less competition, just about everything down here will breed like mad. If you can find a useful job for something that multiplies like crazy and lives on fungi or slime, you have a marketable bioproduct. Ever hear of Verdidion Weave?”

  Flinx shook his head, then hesitated. “Wait a minute. Some kind of living carpet, right?”

  She nodded. “Our first real success. The one that’s financed all our subsequent work here. I’m at least half responsible for its development. That was several years ago. Since then we’ve come up with a few additional products. Small stuff. Nothing on the order of Verdidion Weave. But we’re close to some major breakthroughs. Or we were, before my work was interrupted. I’ll show you some of them when I get a chance.”

  “I’d be very interested in seeing them.”

  They were back in the main lab. The tall man was waiting for them, eyes shining. “Vandervort wants to see you immediately.”

  “Damn. I wanted to break the surprise myself.”

  “You were seen coming through Security. Everyone wants to talk to you, but I imagine you’ll want to talk to Vandervort first.”

  “I don’t have much choice now, anyway, do I, Jase?”

  “I expect not.” He looked concerned. “Was there some kind of trouble? There were rumors—the company tried to keep news of your disappearance quiet, but you can’t keep secrets down here.”

  “I’m not going to go into the details now, but if it hadn’t been for my friend, I wouldn’t be here.”

  Jase studied the slim young man standing quietly next to the gengineer, sizing him up and dismissing him quickly. That was fine with Flinx.

  “I was in a position to offer assistance,” he explained, “so I did.”

  “Yeah, nice of you.” Jase’s gaze switched back to Clarity.

  Flinx saw that the other man was hopelessly in love with Clarity Held. He wondered if Jase had any idea how obvious he was being. From his new height and greater maturity, Flinx was able to regard the other man with tolerance.

  “Everything went crazy when you up and vanished.” Jase chose to ignore Flinx, having cataloged and filed him like one of the inhabitants of the specimen zoo.

  “I figured it would. Don’t worry. I’ll be back on station by tomorrow.” She reached out, and for a moment Flinx thought she was going to take the other scientist’s hand. But she was only gesturing at the door.

  “Let’s go. It’s time we check in with Vandervort. You’ll like her. Everyone likes her.”

  “Then I’m sure I will, too.”

  They walked instead of using the ARV system. As they did so, they passed people clad in attire that screamed Security. Most of them wore sidearms.

  “Looks like someone’s taken a few precautions in the wake of your disappearance.”

  “Amee isn’t dumb. Any outfit would get suspicious if one of their top people suddenly vanished without leaving behind a message of resignation or notice of intent to terminate. I didn’t go as quietly as the people who grabbed me thought I would. I’ll bet there are missing persons bulletins out across half the Commonwealth by now.”

  They were walking down a corridor open to the ceiling. The floor was polished limestone and travertine. Plastic sheeting hung in several places, and he could hear the dripping of water against the impermeable Mylar.

  She noticed the direction of his glance. “I think I mentioned that the majority of the cavern system explored so far is alive.”

  “What do you mean, alive?”

  “A cavern with water running through it is still creating and adding to formations. It’s a live cave. One that’s dried up is considered dead.”

  “I see. I should’ve known that, but most of my studies have been directed outward on the worlds I’ve visited.”

  She eyed him curiously. “How many worlds have you been to? I’ve only been on three. My home world of Thalia Major, Thalia Minor of course, and now Longtunnel. I guess I should call it four, counting Alaspin.”

  “I’ve been to more than four.” He did not want to go into specifics. She probably would not believe him, anyway. Instead, he changed the subject, a skill he had mastered years ago. “Clearly everyone here’s on alert. Yet you look more relaxed than I’ve ever seen you.”

  “They don’t know it’s over. I was anxious right up until we landed. But everything’s okay now, especially since Security’s been called out. You’ve seen what landing on Longtunnel can be like. There’s only the one port and landing strip. There are no facilities anywhere else. All they have to do is keep the port under guard and nobody can get in or out without having to run Security first. You ought to relax, yourself.”

  I’d like to do that, he said to himself, but I think I forgot how about five years ago.

  They turned another corner and stopped before a door set in a yellow spray-wall. Clarity didn’t buzz or identify herself. She simply walked in. No scanner bade them pause; no autosec announced their arrival.

  Now that he was here, he understood why. There was no need for internal security on Longtunnel. All you had to do to prevent unauthorized entry was monitor port facilities and watch the front door because there were no back ones to sneak in through. It also explained how Clarity’s abductors had been able to slip her out. Once you were inside, you had only a single checkpoint to clear to get out again. There must be individual company security, but that was a different matter, especially if you were trying to break out and not in.

  The office they entered was spacious, and why not, when it was simply a matter of subdividing another cavern to your liking? What made it interesting was the presence of dozens of ceiling growths. In this chamber they had been left undisturbed. Glistening stalactites, helectites, soda straws, and gypsum twists sparkled above the artificial lighting. Limestone and water had decorated the office far more beautifully than any professional could have.

  There was no need for climate control. The temperature was the same in the office as it had been in the hall outside: cool and slightly damp. Off to the left, near the back of the chamber, cave water tumbled musically from a crack in the rock wall and was drawn away by a floor drain.

  Storage files, a couch, office furniture, and cojoined desks stood out starkly against the gemlike natural formations. The woman who rose from behind one desk was much shorter than Clarity. Her long red hair had been pulled back and bound in a neat bun—knife-edged gold crystals pierced the bun in three places. Her smile of greeting was warm and inviting, her voice was deep and throaty, and a narcostick dangled precariously from one corner of her mouth. It in no way impeded her speech. Her stride and handshake were equally vigorous.

  Flinx figured her to be in her midfifties and was genuinely surprised when he learned later that she was seventy. Late middle age. Instead of shaking hands with Clarity, she embraced the younger woman, patting her affectionately on the back.

  “Maxim and the gang down in Development have been spinning their wheels ever since you vanished.”

  That made Clarity frown. “They went into my cubicle?”

  “My dear, everyone went into your cubicle. What did you expect? There was a lot of moaning and wringing of hands when Security ventured their opinion that your departure had not been voluntary. I suppose I am due some of the responsibility. I should have insisted on tighter security right from the beginning. But who imagined something like that happening? An abduction, from Longtunnel? I am correct, am I not, in assuming it was something like that?”

  “That’s it.”

  Vandervort nodded knowingly. “The signs were clear to the forensics people. No
t to the rest of us, but to them the message was clear enough. Well, it won’t happen again, I can promise you that.”

  “We saw the new Security on our way down.”

  “Good.” She turned to examine Flinx, not neglecting the minidrag relaxing on his shoulder. “Interesting pet you have, young man. I notice that Clarity has acquired one for herself.”

  “Pip isn’t a pet. Our relationship is mutually beneficial.”

  “As you will. That’s part of what our work here is about, you know. Or are you aware of that already?” She glanced back at Clarity. “How much have you told him about us?”

  “Everything that isn’t classified. He saved my life. Maybe yours as well. I couldn’t shut him out.”

  “I can’t wait for the details,” the woman replied sardonically. “By the way,” she said as she extended a hand to Flinx, “I’m Alynasmolia Vandervort. Everyone calls me Amee. Or Momma. I’m Coldstripe’s supervisor-in-charge here.”

  He returned the firm grip. “I assumed something of the kind.”

  “It appears we all owe you a debt of gratitude for returning our Clarity to us. You’re not claustrophobic by any chance, are you? We have pills, for those who display the symptoms.”

  “I’m fine,” he told her. “If anything, it’s more spacious than I would have imagined.”

  Vandervort looked pleased, resumed her seat behind the desk, and directed her visitors to chairs. “Who was it?” she asked Clarity.

  Flinx feigned indifference while listening closely to Clarity’s story. The supervisor sat motionless and intent. She did not touch the narcostick, but by the time Clarity had finished, it had somehow migrated from one corner of her mouth to the other. She leaned back in her chair and let out a soft grunt.

  “Could be any of several dozen radical groups. There are plenty of ’em out there, but usually they confine themselves to making speeches nobody listens to, or taking up free space between entertainment programming on the newsfax.” She had a peculiar, jerky manner of speech that was matched by the ceaseless movement of her eyes from one person to the next.