Flinx in Flux

by Alan Dean Foster

  “I said I’d take them.” What else could he do? Leave and create a wake of notoriety behind him? “It won’t be very comfortable. I’m not running a liner. There are only three staterooms.”

  “Wherever you put the seriously wounded, they’ll be more comfortable than anywhere down here. Our medical people suggest Thalia Major or Minor as a destination.”

  Flinx considered. “I’d prefer to take them to Gorisa. It’s about the same distance.”

  “Gorisa? I’ve never been there myself, but of course I know of it. Everyone in this sector knows Gorisa. I don’t see any objection to that. Not that we’re in a position to argue with you or order you about. Yours is a private vessel.”

  “That’s right. It is.”

  “I’ll convey your generous offer to my colleagues. I’m informed that for some of the injured, time is of the essence. When can you leave?”

  “Immediately. Now.”

  “Very generous of you, yes.” The Security chief had come prepared to rage and to beg. Instead he found himself overwhelmed by the young visitor’s ready generosity. Actually, it had nothing to do with generosity. Not overtly, anyway. It was partly a matter of maintaining protective coloration and partly that Flinx wanted off Longtunnel as quickly as possible.

  “You could also carry the official report of the incident here to the appropriate authorities. A pity we have no description, no knowledge of the ship our assailants employed.”

  “I’ll send it down by high-speed transmission the moment we break out of space-plus,” he assured the officer. “How many shuttle trips do you think I’ll have to make to get everyone up?”

  “I’ve taken the liberty of inspecting your craft. I’d say two would do it. Most of the wounded we can care for here. You’ll be taking people who’ve lost limbs or organs. We don’t have organ banks or regeneration facilities here. We’ll send along a couple of medtechs to look after the injured for the duration of the voyage.” Kikoisa hesitated, then glanced away. “I really don’t know how to express my—”

  “It’s not necessary to thank me. Anyone else in my situation would do the same.” That was not necessarily true, but he was not used to taking credit for a good deed even when it was due him.

  “All the more reason to do so.” The lieutenant turned and headed out of the commissary at a brisk pace, no doubt to spread the good news to the rest of the outpost authorities.

  Flinx methodically drained the rest of his drink and thought.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The last person he expected to see boarding the shuttle for the second and final run up to the Teacher was Clarity. The little vessel was already crammed full despite the lieutenant’s insistence that the seriously wounded were small in number. No matter. They would find room for everyone. The common area was filling up with special beds and oxy-cocoons, but there was still space around the fountain.

  “You injured?” She winced at his tone, and he was instantly sorry.

  “No, but another ranking officer of the company has to come along to deliver our damage report so we can begin ordering new equipment. Amee may not be in any condition to do so. As chief of gengineering, I was elected.” Coldstripe’s director had been brought aboard the Teacher on the previous shuttle flight. “Besides, with everything ruined, there’s nothing for me to do here.”

  “I understand.” He turned to go forward.

  “I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly. “I’ll try to stay out of your way. I’m sorry if—I hurt you.”

  “Hurt me? Funny. I’m not listed among the wounded.”

  “Flinx . . .”

  “Save it. I know I frighten you. Told you too much, I guess. Let you see too much also, but I had no choice there. We needed the Sumacrea to find our way back.” A small, brightly colored shape dashed from his shoulder to the back of her neck and began playing with her sidetail. She had bronze thread woven into it this morning, he noted.

  “Somebody’s happy to see you.” He was unable to repress a slight smile as he watched Scrap toy with her blond hair.

  She giggled as she tried to stroke the small flying snake. “Sometimes he tickles when he moves around like that.”

  “He’ll settle down soon. Just glad to see you. Might as well let him keep you company. He knows his way around the ship.”

  She gazed back at him. For the moment there was no fear in her. “Thank you,” she said simply.

  He had to leave. “Yeah, sure. Forget it.”

  Though a long journey through space-minus lay ahead of them, he had no intention of talking to her. But the Teacher’s living area was not large, and the ship was very crowded, and since his presence was not actually required on the bridge, he found himself with a great deal of free time and nowhere to spend it except in his private stateroom. Since he was not by nature quite as solitary a person as he liked to believe he was, it was inevitable their paths should cross on more than one occasion.

  The result was that eventually they did start talking again, but now without the playful intimacy that had characterized their earlier relationship. Both were nervous at first. The second meeting was easier, the third almost relaxed. He was glad. Better they should part as friends.

  Several times she seemed on the verge of unburdening herself to him, of trying to explain her fear and uncertainty. Each time she caught herself and changed the subject to something inconsequential. He never pressed for an explanation. If she wanted to tell him something, she would do it in her own time. Besides, he was not sure he wanted to hear what she might have to say.

  Thalia Major and Minor were more mature worlds than Gorisa. Their populace was sophisticated and bored. Reports of an attack on an isolated scientific outpost would draw a lot of newsfax attention. Arriving wounded and other survivors would be subject to penetrating, thoughtful interviews and debriefing.

  In contrast, Gorisa generated more than enough news of its own to keep several fax feeds occupied around the clock. It was the epitome of the fast-growing colony world. Bountifully endowed with heavy metals, productive oceans, and rich alluvial soil for farming, it lay on the fringe of the Commonwealth flanking a bulge of the AAnn Empire and the impossibly distant galactic edge.

  Gorisa was already home to a frenetic, bustling population of over a hundred million. They were concentrated on the second largest continent, but a dozen satellite cities were under development on the four other major land masses. The climate was temperate and oxygen-rich, the gravity a shade less than Earth-normal, and each day offered incoming immigrants new ways to make their fortune.

  A hundred sixty newsfax and entertainment channels competed for audiences on a world destined one day—its promoters insisted—to become the wealthiest in the Commonwealth. The arrival of a group of injured scientists and workers from a distant outpost scarcely rated a mention by the biggest newsfax combines. Only a single young and persistent faxer was more interested in how a nineteen-year-old without a famous name managed to run his own private starship than in the incident that had brought him to Gorisa. Flinx finally lost him in the crush and confusion of arrival and customs.

  Owngrit was a city of eight million, with three major shuttleports and all the related facilities one would expect to find on a world where competition was fierce and credit flowed freely. The wounded from Longtunnel might have received slightly better care on Thalia Major or Minor, but Gorisa provided it immediately and without question, since there was heavy competition for business among the major medical facilities. Half a dozen deepspace beams offered Amee Vandervort the opportunity to transmit the detailed report Clarity had composed. Plans for rebuilding their installation on Longtunnel were under way before the last of the injured had been off-loaded from the Teacher.

  Coldstripe was not the only organization to have suffered grievously at the hands of the fanatics. Research institutes and universities had lost material and personnel to the attack. The Counselor First of the United Church for Gorisa’s sector had to be notified, as did Commonwealth aut
horities. Everyone became very busy very quickly.

  As she watched him operate quietly and confidently in Gorisa’s complex and combative society, Clarity was more impressed than ever with the young man who had saved her. He acted as if he had been dealing with wealthy merchants and self-important bureaucrats all his life. His attitude never became demanding or imperious, nor did he kowtow to government functionaries. At all times he was courteous, even deferential. He could also be immovable on issues important to him.

  All this he did while maintaining his basic anonymity, a skill he had spent ten years developing. His increased height made it slightly more difficult to hide in the background. He had also considered dying his distinctive red hair, though the electric colors currently popular on Gorisa made that unnecessary for now.

  Clarity thought she was beginning to understand him: how his mind worked, why he acted the way he did in public, what he might really want. His age and youthful appearance led others to underestimate him, and she believed he preferred it that way. She knew that behind those guileless green eyes a mind of extreme complexity and unique ability was always busy.

  He had spoken to her of a difficult childhood. How much more to his personality was there than that? Or was he, after all, nothing more than an unusually intelligent, pleasant young man with a special talent?

  Of one thing she was utterly convinced, despite anything Vandervort or anyone else might say: There was not a milligram of malignance in his whole body. If he was half-afraid of himself, what was more natural than that she or any other possible friends should share that fear?

  She watched as he quietly helped care for and reassure the seriously wounded. The longer he was left alone, the more attention he devoted to others. It was as if he were afraid of being thought compassionate. Clarity was sure that Amee’s suspicions were unfounded, her warnings misdirected. There was ample reason to like and even pity this young man, not to fear him.

  Vandervort finally had her damaged arm properly attended to. She and other ranking members of the outpost told their stories to the authorities, who subsequently contacted Thalia Major. A peaceforcer cruiser was dispatched to Longtunnel to help with the cleanup and to begin the search for her assailants. It was more an expensive gesture than a necessary or practical move, but expensive gestures were crucial to the survival of any popular government. So the cruiser carried a full complement of marines even though there was no one left on Longtunnel to fight.

  Contact was made with Coldstripe’s backers. They were not as upset as Clarity had expected, but then, her expertise lay in gengineenng, not in finance. Insurance covered much of the loss. What could not be replaced was the loss of key personnel. Everyone was greatly relieved to learn that Vandervort, Held, Jase, and the majority of the research staff had survived.

  “They value us greatly, my dear,” Vandervort told her via tridee. “There will be hazard pay and large bonuses all around. We may lose some people, but I believe most will elect to retain their positions and return to resume their work. What about you?”

  “I have no intention of quitting, Amee. I want to go back to Longtunnel as soon as possible, both to continue my earlier work and to help with the new developments.”

  Vandervort smiled out at her from the flat screen. “I thought you would be one to see possibilities, but I wasn’t sure until now. I cannot tell you how gratified I am by your decision. You are going to be a very wealthy and famous young woman.” She glanced at something beyond the pickup’s range.

  “I’d like you to see our temporary field headquarters. I’ll be coordinating the acquisition of new equipment and instrumentation from there. We’ve already begun.” She flashed a series of numbers giving a structural position in Owngrit’s north commercial suburbs. Clarity’s unit would store it for easy retrieval. “Come by tonight, why don’t you.”

  “Actually, I’d planned to see Flinx tonight.”

  Vandervort’s brows rose. “I thought you were going to take my advice and keep your distance from that young man.”

  “I’ve done that. I don’t see any harm in occasionally visiting with him. He has to be lonely, though he handles it very well. I think you’re all wrong about him, Amee. He’s not dangerous to anyone except maybe himself.”

  The older woman let out a sigh. “I told you. Just because he isn’t dangerous at the moment doesn’t mean he never will be. Anyway, it doesn’t matter because he’s going to be here tonight, too. I’ve invited him, and he’s already accepted. So if you want to see him, you can meet him here. Good for you, good for me.”

  Something in Vandervort’s voice made Clarity want to probe further—but if Flinx had already agreed to visit the facility . . .

  “I’ll be there, too, then.”

  “Good! I think it will have a bearing on your future. That is important to me, my dear.”

  Clarity grinned. “You aren’t going to spring some kind of promotion on me, are you?”

  “How perceptive you are, my dear. Something like that, yes. I’ll expect you around nineish, local time.”

  “See you then.”

  Clarity let Vandervort break the connection, wondering what kind of promotion her director had in mind. She was already chief of Coldstripe’s gengineering division and too valuable in the lab to be boosted into an administrative position. But then, Amee had not actually said it was a promotion. “Something like that” was what she had said. Curiouser and curiouser. She had always liked surprises.

  Supper in the apartel’s restaurant was lovely if lonely. Coldstripe’s expense account was generous, more a reflection of good corporate policy than of benign munificence. As Amee had told her, personnel were more important than machinery. They intended to keep her and Jase and the others in good working order.

  She took an MLV to the main northsub station, switched to a local, and hired a robocab for the last run. Coldstripe’s temporary facility was housed in a brandnew, beautifully landscaped industrial park where none of the buildings rose higher than the imported trees. Two rust-leaved boles shaded the structure’s entrance. A temporary sign floating above the front door identified the new lessee as Dax Enterprises. She wondered only briefly at the name change, deciding it must be for competitive reasons. It hung slightly crooked. The sign’s field needed tuning.

  With night having fallen, the near outer office was unoccupied. Nearly all the adjacent concerns had shut down until the following day. Those few which still displayed lights were located at the far end of the complex. There was no receptionist on duty, a luxury Coldstripe did not require. Clarity’s company ident card passed her through several security checkpoints until she encountered Amee outside an inner office.

  “You’re on time. That’s good.”

  “On time for what? How’s your arm?”

  The older woman raised her rebandaged limb. “As you see, it’s no longer necessary to keep it immobilized. The new skin-seal is inconvenient, but that’s all. The itching should stop soon.”

  “I want to see what we’ve been able to get so far. Did the backers approve my request for the Sentegen modeling projector?”

  “You and your toys.” Vandervort led Clarity not into the large storage area behind the office but to a side door. “That hasn’t come in yet, but I’m sure it will. I’ve been given a free hand reordering. The firm wants us reestablished on Longtunnel as quickly as possible, so they can take advantage of the free security the government is providing. For one thing, I’m told it lowers insurance rates considerably.”

  Clarity did not recognize the security card Vandervort inserted into the appropriate slot next to the door. It was of a type unfamiliar to her, and it glowed faintly. The door opened promptly, and they walked down a single flight of steps.

  “More storage? I thought we had enough upstairs.”

  Vandervort smiled at a private joke. “This is for special equipment.”

  The stairs made a ninety-degree bend in the middle and descended another half a flight before ending in a
well-lit chamber. Since they were below ground level, there were no windows, only featureless walls. Pipes and ductwork hung exposed and unshielded. The entire room was an afterthought, added on after the main structure above had been completed.

  There were basic living facilities off at one end: a couple of folding beds, cold food storage, sanitary setup, and simple storage. There was also a very large man who was currently aiming an extremely impressive handgun in their direction. He lowered it as soon as he recognized Amee Vandervort.

  “Evening, ma’am.”

  “Hello, Dabis.”

  Clarity noticed a second man watching a wall tridee from one of the folding beds. He did not turn around or sit up. From the sound, she guessed he was eyeing some sort of sporting event.

  “Everything all right?” Vandervort inquired as she stepped off the last step and started across the floor.

  “Quiet as a nursery,” said the big man. As he replied to Vandervort, his gaze was fastened on Clarity. It was not a kind gaze, and she laughed nervously as she looked away from him.

  “What is this? Some kind of secret laboratory? Or are we into drug running now?”

  “Neither, my dear. This is no more than a temporary way station. A stop on the road to fame and extreme fortune of the kind Coldstripe could never give us.”

  Clarity turned a puzzled face to her superior. “I don’t follow you. And where’s Flinx? You said he’d be here.”

  “So he is, my dear.”

  She walked over to where a large curtain hung suspended from a supporting bar and pulled it aside. Resting on a table behind it was a large octagonal container molded of gray plasteel. It looked like an oversized coffin. The surface was lightly pebbled, smooth and cool to the touch. Attached to its base was a second plasteel container a meter and a half long. It matched the larger one perfectly but was dyed beige instead of gray.

  Set into the side of gray container was a touch control pad composed of glowing contact squares. Vandervort played a short sequence on them. A motor hummed compliantly, and the top layer of gray plasteel retracted halfway. Without being told, Clarity moved forward and peered through the transparent inner shield. Her heart skipped a beat.