Flinx in Flux

by Alan Dean Foster

  “So do I. You can stay here if you want to.”

  Flinx tossed Pip into the air. Then he sat on the edge of the rain drain, his legs dangling. Scrap hovered close to his mother. The minidrags watched as Pip’s master took a deep breath and pushed off, carefully resting the light tube against stomach and chest.

  The descent was wild, fast, and mercifully brief, ending in a shallow pond of icy water. Nearby, a two-meter-high waterfall tumbled into a pool that was the birthplace of a fast-moving underground stream.

  Clarity let out a shriek at his unexpected arrival, then relaxed gratefully when she was able to identify the intruder.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She rushed into his arms, and he had to juggle the tube to keep from dropping it. She was sobbing, and her clothing had been battered by the rapid drop through the drain. He reminded himself that she had ridden the water-slicked chute in total darkness, not knowing when or how it would end. The darkness had magnified her panic and her fear.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured, trying to relax her. “It’s all right.”

  A second splash made him wince as cold water splashed him anew. They turned to see Sowelmanu rising carefully. The geologist began preening his antennae as soon as he realized that the water barely came up to the underside of his abdomen.

  “Are you intact, Clarity Held?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She released Flinx and stepped out of the pool, terror having given way to embarrassment. “It’s just that I didn’t know what lay at the bottom of the drop, or even if it had a bottom.”

  “There is no need to apologize for your fear and concern. My reactions would doubtless have been similar had I been the one to tumble through first.”

  “No, they wouldn’t.” She managed a small smile. “You would have been busy studying on the way down.”

  “Well, perhaps just a little,” The geologist let out a whistle of midlevel laughter. “In any event it is I who should apologize, for not noticing the weakness of the floor which hardly covered the drain.”

  “It looked the same as everywhere else,” Flinx chided him. “Clarity doesn’t need to apologize, and you don’t need to make excuses. What we need is to find our way back up.”

  “That should be possible. We may emerge farther west or north than we were originally. I do not think I need to add that we should watch our footing more carefully lest we encounter a succession of these drains. They often cluster together in the same areas.” He indicated the end of the tunnel that had dumped them in the pool. Water dripped from the travertine lip. “This drain was short compared to some which have been measured. We do not want to find ourselves deposited on a level from which it will be difficult to ascend.”

  They resumed their advance, this time letting Sowelmanu take the lead. Not only was he much more likely to spot a possible drain before either of them, but with five legs and two truhands, he stood a much better chance of avoiding a fall.

  So intent was he on tracking the geologist’s progress as they began to climb back to their earlier level that Flinx neglected to watch his own footing. They were leaving an especially damp cavern, and the entire floor was slick, not only with water but because it supported a profusion of mossy growths, molds, and fungi. There were sulfide eaters as well, trailing tendrils in the water.

  After surviving the pseudo-vexfoot’s assault, the haustorium-firing fungus, and the rain drain that had swallowed Clarity, it was almost ironic that he should stumble on a dry, smooth chunk of rock. He felt his ankle twisting, fought to compensate, went over backward, and was rewarded with a loud crack. A rich trill of horrified realization raced through him.

  Clarity scrambled over to the broken light tube and clutched at it as though she could heal the break by sheer strength of will.

  “Get some tape, some skin spray, anything!”

  “The spray seal you used on me,” Sowelmanu murmured. He and Flinx tore through the supplies

  Flinx finally located the svelte cylinder and emptied the contents on the crack in the plastic. Clarity and Sowelmanu tried to hold the tube together as liquid light leaked out around their fingers.

  The spray seal worked wonderfully on human flesh and adequately on thranx chiton, but it simply refused to adhere to the clear plexalloy tube. Despite their frantic efforts, the chemical light continued to trickle from the broken tube. It was not simply a matter of plugging a hole. The crack ran half the length of the illuminator.

  Finally Flinx sat back against a smooth chunk of fallen flowstone. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he muttered morosely. “Once that stuff is exposed to air, it begins to decompose.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Clarity moved across the floor to sit close to him, drawing her knees up to her chest and clasping them with both arms.

  Thereafter no one said anything. The magnitude of the disaster was sinking in. Sowelmanu joined the two humans as they watched the luminescent liquid run across the floor, forming a small glowing river. It was already beginning to fade, the chemicals debonding under contact with oxygen.

  Clarity let go of her legs to lean against Flinx. “Whatever else happens, when the lights go out, don’t let go of me. I couldn’t stand not having some kind of contact.”

  He did not reply. This would be a strange place to die, he thought. There was plenty of air, food, and water, but no way out. Trying to find a path would result only in a faster death, not in freedom. There was no way they could negotiate a route in the darkness. They had stumbled and fallen into a region Longtunnel’s cartographers had yet to explore. There were no guideposts, no landmarks, nothing to indicate direction.

  In any case, they would not perish at the touch of a vexfoot or carnivorous fungus. He found himself coldly fondling the needler, wondering if enough of a charge remained to do the job he had in mind for it.

  Clarity inhaled sharply as the last of the luminescent liquid that had been their guide and hope gave way to utter, total darkness. It was darker, Flinx mused, than the inside of one’s eyelids when one closed them tight in sleep, darker than dreaming, darker than any space above a rotating world.

  Silent it was not. There was the constant gurgle of running water all around. When the light finally went out, photosensitives began to emerge from their hiding places and the cavern was filled with strange whines and clicks and mewlings as the troglodyte inhabitants called uncertainly to each other.

  “We have no other source of illumination?” Sowelmanu whispered.

  “None.” In the pitch black their whispering sounded like normal conversation. He could feel Clarity pressed tightly against him and was suddenly grateful for her presence and warmth, even if it was motivated by fear more than by affection.

  “I am wondering, though it is too late to do so, if we might have modified the power cell in your needler for use in my shoulder lights.”

  “I doubt it. Weapons cells are a lot different from those in commercial batteries. If it had worked at all, it would have been only for a short time. That’s if it hadn’t blown the elements on contact.”

  “Ah, I understand. Perversely, that makes me feel a little better. There is always the chance that our security force has driven off the invaders and that our absence has been noted. Searchers may yet find us.”

  “First they’d have to determine that we’re not among the dead,” Flinx reminded him. “Then they’d have to surmise some of us got trapped outside the demolished corridors, in unlighted areas. And then they’d have to find us. Too much surmising and too much time. They’ll be busy with more pressing concerns.”

  “I had forgotten,” the crestfallen geologist said. “So much wanton destruction.”

  Flinx blinked in the darkness. His mind never rested except when he slept, and not always then. “What about natural bioluminescents like the photomorphs? Could we do something with them? Try to capture and restrain a photomorph or something like it? Even a little infrequent light would be better than none at all.”

  “I supp
ose we could try.” Clarity didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “The photomorphs put out more light than any other lifeform we’ve studied, and that’s not a great deal, except in brief bursts. There’s also something like a long millipede that has a blue light which runs its whole length.”

  “Perhaps if we can capture several such creatures, we could fasten them together and at least use them to see the floor. Remember that I can make better use of light than you,” Sowelmanu told her hopefully. “If you can see several centimeters by their light, then I can probably see twice as far with the identical output of lumens. Enough to find a slow way upward, perhaps, and to avoid dangerous drop-offs.”

  “Then let’s keep our eyes peeled,” Flinx said, grinning at his own mocking joke, “for anything moving that’s producing any kind of light.”

  As they sat motionless, listening and watching, their eyes grew accustomed to the blackness. Otherwise they would never have seen the faint light emitters that were starting to appear. Unfortunately they were all sliders, an airborne mammal that lived in the larger caverns. They were impossible to catch but did give the trapped trio something to focus on. The quarter-meter-long fliers soared back and forth among the stalactites drooping from the ceiling.

  Pink triangular patterns flashed beneath their wings, identifying individuals to others of their kind.

  It was almost noisy now. More photofauna gradually emerged.

  “They fled from our lights and voices and footsteps,” Clarity whispered. “Now they’re reclaiming the darkness. They were around us all the time, watching and waiting.”

  While she was talking, one of the sliders dropped like a stone. It flapped spasmodically across the floor, the lights on its wings shining brightly. Then it rose without moving its wings and came straight toward them.

  Clarity and Sowelmanu were puzzled and confused, but Flinx only smiled. “Pip’s been hunting. No matter what happens to us, the minidrags won’t starve. She can’t see any better than us, but she can hunt the light sources.”

  They could hear the two flying snakes tearing into the body of the dead slider. Biting and swallowing was an unfamiliar process for creatures used to downing their food whole, but the minidrags were not true snakes. They had small teeth capable of rudimentary chewing. Oversized food was better than no food at all.

  Flinx felt better knowing that his lifelong pet would survive him as long as there were sliders to hunt. “If there was enough light or another emotional presence nearby, Pip could lead us out. We’re not completely paralyzed here. Sometimes I forget she can be more than just a companion.” Suddenly he tensed.

  Clarity felt him stiffen. “What’s wrong, what’s the matter?”

  “There’s something else here. Not sliders or little things. Something a lot bigger.”

  “Vexfoot,” Clarity hissed fearfully. It would have no trouble finding them in the dark.

  “No. Something else. Not a vexfoot. Different.”

  “I can’t hear a thing.”

  “Nor can I,” said Sowelmanu, straining with his great compound eyes. “How do you know, my young human friend, that there is anything out there at all?”

  Flinx hesitated, then gave a mental shrug. They were probably all going to die together, anyway, so what did it matter what they learned about him?

  “Because I can feel their presence.”

  “I don’t understand,” Clarity said. “There’s nothing around to feel.”

  “I don’t mean with my hands.”

  “There is something you are not telling us, young man.”

  Flinx turned toward the thranx’s voice in the darkness. “My pet is an Alaspinian minidrag. They’re telepathic on the emotional level, and they occasionally bond that way with human beings. But in my case it’s not all oneway. You see, I’m telepathic on the emotional level myself.”

  Clarity twitched, but the darkness kept her from pulling away. “You’re saying you can read others emotionally, just like the flying snakes?”

  He nodded, then realized she could not see the gesture and replied aloud.

  “So you know what I’ve been—feeling ever since we’ve been together,” she said.

  “Not all the time. It’s an erratic ability, it comes and goes without rhyme or reason, and it always works better when Pip is close by. I think she acts as some kind of amplifier or lens for me.”

  “I have heard of the empathic telepaths of Alaspin.” He could sense Sowelmanu brooding intently in the darkness. “I have never heard of them ‘focusing’ such a talent in another creature.”

  “That’s because insofar as I know, there’s no one else like me,” Flinx told him tightly. “I’m sorry, Clarity. I thought it was better to keep it a secret.” He hesitated. “I told you I wasn’t normal. Now you know why.”

  “It’s all right,” she said in a small voice. “If you really know what I’m feeling, you’ll know that it’s all right.”

  “Absolutely fascinating,” Sowelmanu murmured. “Heretofore telepathy was considered nothing but material for superstition and fiction.”

  “It’s not true telepathy,” Flinx corrected him. “It’s only operative on the emotional level.”

  “You read emotions.” Clarity’s tone was flat. “Can you sense the presence of a vexfoot or photomorph?”

  “No. I’m only stimulated by an intelligent presence.”

  “Then your talent is playing you false in the darkness,” Sowelmanu told him with conviction. “There are no intelligences on Longtunnel.”

  “Well, something is out there, and it’s much more emotionally sophisticated than a flying snake.”

  “We would know.” Clarity spoke patiently. “There are no sentients here. Intelligencewise, this is an empty world.”

  Flinx was having difficulty searching and speaking simultaneously. “What if they didn’t want you to know they were here? You’ve admitted the outpost is a small one, that exploration has been limited to the area around the port.”

  “You can’t have a sentient race existing in complete darkness.”

  “I’m sure they’ll find your observation interesting, Clarity.”

  “What do your ‘sentients’ look like?” the geologist inquired skeptically.

  “I’ve no idea. I can’t see them. There are no mental images, only feelings.”

  “Then what is it you feel?”

  “Curiosity. Peacefulness. A particular intensity of a kind I’ve never felt before. What I’m not feeling is more important.”

  “I don’t understand,” Clarity said.

  “No anger, no hate, no animosity.”

  “That’s a lot to tell from sensing a few emotions.”

  “I’ve had years of practice. Emotions don’t have to be blunt. The subtle ones can be equally revealing. There are a lot of them around us right now.”

  “Perhaps we should try moving toward them,” Sowelmanu suggested.

  “No. No sudden movements or gestures. They’re curious. Let’s keep them that way.”

  So they sat silently in the darkness, two humans and one thranx. For all his companions knew, the mysterious creatures Flinx had spoken of were standing only centimeters away.

  Clarity listened for a sound: breathing, feet or claws scraping against stone, anything. The complete silence was not surprising since the ability to move silently in this underground world would be a necessary survival trait. Only Flinx knew they were moving, inspecting, because only he could feel the individual emotional centers shifting around him. If they conversed, it was via emotional surges and not words.

  “They’re very close now.”

  Clarity let out a yelp. “Something touched me!”

  “Relax. I said they’re not hostile.”

  “We have only your word for that,” Sowelmanu murmured. Then he let out a soft click as he, too, was touched.

  The quick, hesitant contact turned into caresses, careful fingering designed to inform. They were accompanied by a surge of emotion too vast for Flinx to handl
e. Pip was curled tightly around the back of his neck, and he knew she was sensing the same flood of feeling. Unlike her master, she had insufficient mental equipment with which to interpret that powerful rush. It was enough that she felt no hostility.

  Finally Flinx extended a questing hand. His fingers made contact with something soft, furry, and warm. Alien digits responded. The touch was so light and delicate, he could not tell if it involved fingers or tendrils until one of the creatures let him run his hand along its arm. They were true fingers, thin and fragile as the helectites Sowelmanu had delighted in pointing out earlier in their flight. Tactile sensitivity would also be a useful trait in a world of permanent night.

  They let him run his fingers over their faces, or where faces ought to have been. Even vestigial eyes seemed to be absent, though they might have been concealed beneath the thick fur. There was a smaller than expected set of nostrils; small ears that flared from the sides of the head; and two arms, two legs, and a tail whose tip seemed as sensitive as any finger.

  During the entire extended physical exploration he was overwhelmed with feelings of awe and amazement.

  The fur was short and dense and covered the entire body except for the ears and the tip of the tail. There was no clothing, which made sense. They were insulated and warmed by their fur, and there could be no nudity taboos in a world of blindness. Throughout it all they kept projecting one particular emotion with regard to themselves. Though it was a feeling and not a sound, he ascribed a series of syllables to it.

  Sumacrea.

  A voice neither human nor thranx said suddenly in the darkness, “Sumacrea!”

  “They can talk!” Clarity said in astonishment.

  “I’m not certain they can. They have a rich emotional language. They may make sounds to call attention to themselves or to warn of danger, but I’m not sure they communicate other than by reading and broadcasting feelings.”