Flinx in Flux

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Spores, The caverns are thick with them. The air currents keep them aloft and moving around. Most of the fungi and molds reproduce through spores. They’ll infect any open wound. Sooner or later a hyphae network will develop and spread through the host. That’s why you don’t see any corpses lying about, despite the extensive animal population. There are no vultures or ants or their analogs. The fungi take care of carrion disposal.”

  “We must find a way to close off the wound,” the thranx muttered.

  “Your ‘wound’ consists of what’s left of your whole leg,” Flinx pointed out.

  “That is what I mean,” Sowelmanu replied quietly. “I have observed the weapon you carry. From the destruction of the haustorium which infected me, I presume it is functional.”

  Flinx checked the readout. “There’s still some charge left.”

  “Very well, then.” The thranx sighed, a light whistling sound. “You are not be any chance a trained surgeon?” Flinx shook his head. “Pity. At least you know how to use a gun.” With difficulty he rolled back onto his side. “Take your best aim and kindly relieve me of this useless limb.”

  Flinx stared at him. “I can’t perform an amputation. If I do that, you won’t have a chance at rehabilitation. It might be a long time before we reach medical facilities.”

  “I realize that. It could be worse. The creature could have struck my eyes, in which case you would be in the difficult position of having to amputate my head. I think my prospects for survival are better in this case. If you do not comply, then I will acquire an airborne fungal infection within a day, which will not be so easily excised. The weapon will cauterize the wound and seal it sufficiently until I can obtain proper treatment. That is,” he added softly, “providing these mad humans have not destroyed the outpost infirmary along with everything else.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past them,” Clarity said.

  “You speak as if you are familiar with their cause. I am naturally interested. What is it they want?”

  Flinx was calibrating the needler as they talked. He wondered if the geologist was really curious or if he was simply rambling to keep his mind off what Flinx was about to do to him.

  “They want to close down Longtunnel,” Clarity told him. “Shut down all research here. They’re the worst kind of ecopurists, the type who go berserk if they think you’re gengineering a snail to change the color of its shell. We’re all of us blasphemers against the True Religion: the religion of No Change.”

  “I see.” The thranx whistled third-degree understanding layered with a suggestion of compassion. “That would explain why they went first for Coldstripe. They would naturally consider you the most serious ‘offenders.’ ”

  “Somehow I’m not flattered. How is the fighting going? We left in a rush.”

  “As did I, so I cannot tell you more than you probably already know. When they broke into our cavern, a couple of our study-team people began shooting back. They carry sidearms for defense against the larger carnivores. After that it was like a tunnel collapse: all dust and chaos. I was just coming in from concluding some fieldwork when I heard the shooting, saw it was going badly, and turned to flee.” A foothand bent up and back to tap the thorax pack and its peculiar lighting bar.

  “I had not gone out with a full charge, not expecting to be gone long. Only when I stopped running did I notice how weak my light had become. I tried to retrace my steps before it died completely on me, but in my haste I had left behind all our marked trails.

  “As you know, we can see quite well in poor light, but no one can see in the total absence of light. I tried to find my way back by feel, but in the blackness every formation feels like its neighbor. I became disoriented, and lost.

  “Then I felt something sting my leg. I tried to pull away and could not. More stings followed. I could not see what was attacking me, and when I tried to pull away, I fell and struck my head.” He glanced up at Flinx, who was almost ready. “That’s the trouble with this place, you see. Nothing soft here, even in the oldest tunnels. On Hivehom we built a civilization out of soft earth. We didn’t try to dig through rock. But I bore you with basic thranx history that every human learns in larva school.”

  “Bring the light over here,” Flinx told Clarity. She approached and held herself poised like an ancient samurai warrior about to strike. “I wish we had some anesthetic.”

  “The general region is already numb from nerve damage.”

  Flinx considered the butt end of the needler. “I could hit you on the back of the head with this.”

  “Thank you,” said Sowelmanu dryly, “but my skull is already tender where I struck the ground. One such blow is sufficient.” He stiffened, the digits of the truhands interlocking tightly, then the foothands, lastly the back legs as he readied himself as best he could. “I would appreciate it greatly if you would not linger any longer. It would be disagreeable to go to all this trouble only to find out I had been infected by airborne spores in the interim.”

  “Go ahead and do it, Flinx. He’s right.”

  “The female speaks truth.”

  Pip stirred in alarm as Flinx pulled the trigger. Two quick, sharp bursts were all it took. What remained of the truleg fell aside, still encased in graying haustorium. The six-centimeter-long stump steamed slightly.

  It was difficult to tell how the amputation had affected the geologist. There were no eyelids to close tightly shut, no lips to clench in pain. But the interlocking hands and feet did not relax for a long time.

  Clarity was already down on her knees inspecting the stub, the scientist in her fighting off any discomfort. “It looks like a clean seal. I don’t see any haustorium protruding.” She looked up at the geologist. “You should be safe from redevelopment.”

  Sowelmanu had to speak slowly to make himself understood. “I am grateful. I am sorry you are trapped down here with me, but I am glad you came along. I would not have enjoyed a graceful death.” He tried to sit up then. Flinx slipped an arm under his thorax, trying not to block any breathing spicules.

  “The growth is more of a danger to you than to me. If I had not rendered myself unconscious, I would not have been infected, since it can only penetrate an exoskeleton at the joints or eyes, whereas you who wear your bodies outside your skeletons would be vulnerable all over.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Flinx kept his arm behind the weakened thranx. “Do you want to try to stand yet?”

  “No, but I do not want to lie here like a helpless larva, either.”

  He pulled his foothands up under his thorax, leaving the remaining trulegs beneath his abdomen, and pushed. His stride was shaky as he worked on compensating for the missing leg. Turning a small circle was a major chore.

  “Disgusting to have to walk like this, with one’s head so near the ground. This is the position our ancestral workers were forced to maintain even after we had evolved an upright posture.”

  “Don’t complain,” Flinx told him. “If I lost a leg, I’d be almost immobile. You lose one and you still have five to walk on.”

  “One still can’t but view the loss of a limb with some regret.”

  “Don’t move.”

  Sowelmanu peered back at Clarity, who was bending over him. “I assume you also are not a trained physician, madam?”

  “No, but I am a gengineer, and I do know some basic medicine.” She was using a tiny, thin spray can on the stump of the missing truleg.

  “That is for sealing and repairing human flesh. It will not work on chiton.”

  “True, but it will bond around the cauterization, and it’s a good sterilizer. An extra precaution against spore intrusion.”

  “There is the delicate matter of food. I have already eaten what little I took with me, expecting to be out less than a day.”

  “We have concentrates,” Flinx told him. Many thranx foods were safe for humans to eat and vice versa. Taste, however, was another matter. In his current state Sowelmanu was not likely to be overly fastidious.
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  Chapter Twelve

  The thranx preferred soft food, but the geologist had no difficulty downing the protein cubes that constituted the bulk of their scavenged stock.

  “I think that’s going to have to be enough.” Flinx passed the geologist a third cube and sealed the storage sack that had produced it. “We’re going to have to measure out our rations since we don’t have any idea how much longer we’re going to be stuck down here.”

  “I beg apologies.” Sowelmanu made a sound of second-degree sorrow. “I was starving.”

  “You ended up here by a different route.” Clarity was trying to repress the excitement she felt. “Do you think you can find your way back? They were blowing up all our service corridors and storage chambers and walled us out.”

  “I ran long and hard, and too much of the time in total darkness. But I spent a lot of time in the main warehousing chamber beneath the shuttleport. My group has limited funds, so we had to store our bulkier equipment down there. Unless these people plan to demolish the entire outpost, that area is too large and too critical for them to destroy. It would also be a good place to hide.”

  “Do you think the area will stay safe?”

  “It’s directly beneath all port facilities: Landing Control, Security, everything. If any place holds out against these fanatics, it will be that sector. If Security can keep control, they can send a message to the first ship that makes orbit. So these people must move quickly no matter what their ultimate aims.”

  “Unless the ship they arrived in is armed as well,” Clarity pointed out glumly.

  “Too many imponderables. Let us worry about our situation here underground, not potential problems several planetary diameters out. The first thing is to find our way back to civilization. The second is to hope a little civilization remains to be found.”

  “I’m open to suggestions.” Flinx nodded to his right. “We were heading in that general direction when Pip found you.” He displayed his multifunction chronometer. “I have a compass, and Clarity has apprised me of this world’s magnetic alignments, so we can’t be too far off line.”

  “Excellent. To carry such an instrument you might almost be prescient.”

  Flinx was startled for an instant until he realized that the geologist could have no idea of his particular abilities, much less his unique history. Sowelmanu was simply paying him a thranx compliment.

  “We can follow this little creek upstream,” he murmured.

  “I find no reason to object.” Sowelmanu tested his legs a last time, his head unnervingly near the ground. “Embarrassing.”

  “Better degraded than dead,” Clarity told him encouragingly.

  “Two intelligent humans. I am fortunate indeed. One moment.” Reaching up and around with both truhands, he unfastened the straps that held the double light arrangement to his upper thorax. “I have no hope of recharging these down here. Therefore, I will travel better without the additional weight.”

  “What’s in your pack?” Flinx inquired as they started up the creek. Having reslung the nearly empty needler, he had retaken the light tube from Clarity, who was glad to be rid of the responsibility of carrying it.

  “Drilling equipment, sampler corers, field test chemical kit, sample cases—the same assortment I habitually carry with me on field trips. I dumped my specimens when I ran. A thorax burdened by rocks is a liability during flight.”

  “Assuming some of them are power tools, why couldn’t you switch packs with your shoulder lights?”

  “Different voltages, terminals, and no way to homogenize them.” The geologist whistled a note of first-degree negativity coupled with common assurance.

  “That’s too bad,” Clarity said.

  “Yes, too bad.”

  Sowelmanu did not appear to mind the darkness that pressed close on all sides, but that was only natural. The thranx had evolved and matured in tunnels beneath Hivehom’s surface. They preferred to be underground, though not in the dark. With technology had come a need for light as they had begun to rely on their eyes to the exclusion of other senses. It was gratifying to know that if their remaining tube faded to a strength of a few footcandles, Sowelmanu would still be able to see clearly enough by it to guide them.

  Before that happened, Flinx promised himself, they would have found their way to the vast common storage room beneath the port and worked their way up to join its stalwart defenders—assuming any had managed to hold out against the attacking fanatics and provided that they did not encounter any more haustorium-firing fungi or pseudo-vexfoots along the way.

  Thanks to Sowelmanu’s superb night vision, they made better progress than ever. He was able to see much farther by the light of the tube than either of them could. This saved them from exploring a number of dead ends and enabled them to follow the most promising passages first.

  But the geologist could only see farther; he could not divine what lay ahead. They still had to back down two tunnels for every one that led onward.

  Two days of ups and downs, and discouragement had set in as deeply as before.

  “If we watch our intake, we have enough food for another week,” Flinx informed his companions.

  “Never mind food. What about the light?” Clarity’s voice was a dull monotone. The climbing and hiking had exhausted her, and she was utterly disoriented.

  So was Flinx. If they could just get close enough to the base, he would try to pick up an emotional scent. At least it would give them a direction. But days of straining to detect a single feeling had produced nothing. He knew his talent was functioning because he could easily sense Clarity’s despair and Sowelmanu’s typical thranx stoicism. Beyond that was only an emotional void and the cool, dark emptiness of the caverns. That meant either that his perception was operating at a low level or that they were farther from the port than they believed. And all it would take would be a single localized magnetic anomaly to render his compass useless.

  In trying to find the major storage area beneath the port, had they descended too deeply? The geologist did not think so but could not be certain. Flinx was not about to argue with him. When underground it was always better to trust a thranx’s sense of direction, even one suffering from the aftereffects of a serious injury, than that of the healthiest human.

  “I think we have circled around far enough,” he told them, studying dark shadows and shapes among the formations. “Now we need to start working our way back to the west.”

  “What makes you think we can find a way into the warehouse area? Surely when the place was excavated, the contractor would have sealed off any entrances large enough for dangerous animals to slip through.”

  “They may have missed some.” Sowelmanu did not dispute Flinx’s point. “Remember that we need find only one. If we encounter a place that has been heat sealed, we may be able to break through, and we will at least know that we have reached our objective.” He nodded at the needler Flinx carried.

  “The weapon you took from our assailants will cut through any spray-wall.”

  “If there’s enough charge remaining, and provided we don’t have to use it to defend ourselves again.” He glanced at his wrist. “All right. We’re going this way.”

  “No.” Sowelmanu uttered clicking sounds of high negativity. “That is a dead end. We must go around it—that way.”

  Flinx squinted but could see only darkness ahead. He shrugged and followed the geologist.

  “It really is a shame,” Sowelmanu said the following day.

  “What is?” Clarity asked him.

  “As a geologist I should be living on the uppermost level of delight. We have observed unique formations and growths these past days, yet I have not felt the urge to take a single note.”

  “When this is over and done with, you can return and observe to your heart’s content,” Flinx told him. “Personally I marvel you can think about work at all at a time like this.”

  “A good scientist,” the thranx replied evenly in a tone suggestive of c
omplete assurance tinged with second-degree insight, “is always working no matter what his personal circumstances happen to be.”

  “That’s fine and philosophical,” Clarity argued, “but in my case I—”

  Her comment became a scream. She had been walking on Flinx’s right. He threw himself aside as the hole opened under her. Sowelmanu scampered clear on his five legs.

  Both of them were cautiously leaning over the edge of the gap before the dust had settled.

  “Clarity!” He was poised to retreat. The stone beneath his feet felt solid, but so had the floor that had given way under his companion. He had felt her fear as she had fallen. The fact that he could still feel it was ample evidence that she was alive and conscious somewhere below.

  A small winged shape joined them. Scrap was coated with limestone dust but otherwise unhurt. Flinx thrust the light tube into the opening.

  “Clarity, can you hear us?”

  Her reply was faint but audible, full of fear and confusion. The red-hot sting of pain was absent.

  “She does not appear to be seriously damaged,” Sowelmanu observed. “See there, to your left.”

  Flinx moved the tube. The pit into which Clarity had tumbled was steeply banked and slick-sided. Water trickled from an underground passage and limed the bottom of the tunnel. There were no stalactites or stalagmites visible.

  “A rain drain,” the geologist declared confidently. “It has other names, but that is what this kind of formation is usually called. It carries excess precipitation from above to lower levels. That is why there are no formations within the tunnel. Fast-moving water has kept them from growing.”

  “Very interesting, but what do we do? We have all the supplies up here.”

  “We could leave her some food and come back with help. I am sure she is within reach of water.”

  “We might not be able to find this place again no matter how carefully we mark it. Besides, she has no light. She’s afraid of the dark, Sowel. I know that’s difficult for a thranx to understand.”

  “Humans are heir to many incomprehensible phobias. I sympathize, but what else can we do?” His mandibles clicked disapprovingly. “I suppose we could slide down and join her and then attempt to find our way back to this level together. There should be a number of passages we can climb. But I dislike the idea.”