Mid-Flinx (Pip and Flinx)

by Alan Dean Foster

  He slipped only once, hurriedly digging his fingers into the obliging wood to halt his fall. A protruding shard of bark scraped his cheek, and Teal hastened to assure him that the secondary tree they were utilizing was in no way toxic. He resumed his descent, envying the furcots their powerful feet and claws as they leaped effortlessly from bough to trunk and back again.

  Walking along a branch wide enough to allow six people to march abreast atop it, they came eventually to the emergent’s trunk. Even at this height, more than five hundred meters above the ground, its diameter was impressive.

  From his position out in front, Dwell called back to them. He’d found a split in the side of the tree, a place where lightning had struck and burned. In this perpetual humidity natural blazes of any kind must be quite rare, Flinx mused. The resulting charred cavity had been further enlarged by some now-departed inhabitant.

  Following a well-rehearsed routine, the children tucked themselves all the way in the back. Teal followed, leading Flinx by the hand, and indicated that he should sit down beside her. Next came the two young furcots. Saalahan entered last, the great green bulk forming a living barrier between the hollow’s opportunistic denizens and the hylaea outside.

  As they swapped answers to many questions, Flinx shared his rations with them. Even Dwell was forced to concede that chocolate was almost, if not quite, as tasty as sugararries.

  The foods they offered him in return assaulted his palate with a rich variety of alien flavors, outlandish and new. He tried them all save for something that looked like the dehydrated remains of a cilia-lined, three-centimeter-long pink grub. Not even the raspberry-flavored gel or sap Teal spread on the preserved carcass could induce him to take a bite. The children found his reluctance incomprehensible.

  “We will have to hunt for food soon,” Teal told him when they’d finished. “As you know, we have been away longer than we ever expected to be and our supplies are very low. Saalahan and the others will help.”

  Flinx tapped the needler holstered at his belt. “So can I, if it’s meat you’re after.”

  She leaned forward to squint at the weapon. “It’s very small. Do you really think it will be useful?”

  He smiled reassuringly. “Just give me a chance.”

  As she was leaning forward he noted how her green cloak covered much of her body. No doubt it served to camouflage the wearer as well as protect her from the elements. The weave was tight and smooth.

  Invisible in the dense, mist-impregnated air, the orb of the sun did not drop from sight so much as melt away like a lemon candy left out in the heat too long.

  As darkness encroached, so did the first rain. Its arrival heralded by scattered peals of distant thunder, it descended in sheets, forceful and unrelenting. Any travelers unfortunate enough to be caught out in the downpour would find themselves drenched to the skin in a very few minutes.

  “This lasts all night?” he queried Teal once more, mightily impressed by the force of the deluge.

  “Nearly always.” Her leg bumped his thigh repeatedly. Physical contact here was accepted without apology.

  By stretching, Flinx could just see past Saalahan’s bulk. It forced Pip to shift her position on his shoulder, and she hissed her displeasure. In the rapidly failing light he watched the big, heavy drops drum relentlessly on the branch, slide off leaves and flowers, slick down bark and the irregular surface of creepers. Nearly all the leaves and petals had pointed tips, the better to efficiently drain off the nightly precipitation.

  Dwell had chosen well. Within the fire-scarred hollow they stayed dry and comfortable. The slight drop in temperature induced by the rain and the onset of darkness was offset by the proximity of so many warm bodies.

  Flinx scrunched as best he could up against the wooden wall behind him, listening to the rain. Teal was very close. Because of the children, he knew she was probably anywhere from five to ten years his senior, but because of her diminutive size the difference seemed much less.

  She was gesturing at the positioner. “You’re sure that will keep us from getting lost?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Kiss crowded close. “Can you emfol it?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s just a tool, like the clothes you wear or the sugararry sacks each of you is carrying. See? You can even use it in the dark.” He slid his thumb along one side.

  Soft light illuminated the transparent readout. Instantly, miniature growls issued from Moomadeem and Tuuvatem, while Saalahan rolled over to stare at him. They needn’t have bothered. Teal quickly put her hands over the positioner, smothering the light. Her bright green eyes peered past the big furcot, out into the sodden night.

  “No light!” she whispered urgently. “There are creatures that hunt the night.”

  “Even in this?” He indicated the rain.

  She nodded solemnly. “Even in this. They seek out movement—and light.”

  He flicked off the positioner’s internal illumination. “All right. Kiss, I’ll show you more in the morning.”

  “A tool.” The girl turned away, silent and contemplative.

  “Is a furcot a tool?” he asked her, not wanting to leave her feeling deprived.

  “No. A furcot is a person,” she replied.

  “Maybe you’re a tool.” That was Dwell’s sharp, clipped tone.

  In the darkness Flinx smiled. “No, I’m a person, too. Or maybe in a way, we’re all tools at least some of the time.”

  “Not me,” Dwell snapped.

  Flinx patiently ignored the boy’s hostility and suspicion. Not for the first time he wondered about himself. Come to think of it, what am I, exactly? How much person and how much tool?

  “We should all try to get some sleep.” Teal’s announcement signaled the end of childish commentary.

  The ensuing silence found him staring out into the murky downpour, wondering what inimical life forms might be prowling the branches and creepers in search of sleeping or unprotected prey. He marveled that anything could maneuver effectively through both darkness and deluge. The damp, musky odor of furcot marked a reassuring bather against whatever might be crouching just outside their protective hollow. With the familiar weight of Pip snuggled tight against his shoulder and neck, he edged forward until he could lie flat. One foot contacted furcot and it snuffled in its almost-sleep.

  Occasionally a cry or whistle would pierce the thrum of falling rain. Once, there came a succession of deep, reverberant booms that had to arise from a throat of generous dimensions. It escalated for a while, then drifted away, swallowed by the rhythm of the rain. At that moment it personified perfectly the world on which he found himself.

  He nudged Teal, who responded sleepily to his question. “It’s a thumber.”

  “Dangerous?”

  He detected slight movement. “No. A lot of meat but not very good to eat. Too greasy. Easy to catch, though.”

  “As wary and cautious as everything here seems to be, I’m surprised there’s any creature that’s ‘easy to catch.’ ”

  “Bad taste combined with big size makes for a good defense. Go to sleep, Flinx.” He felt her turning away from him.

  Small breathy noises sounded behind him. The children were already fast asleep. He considered breaking into his rations for a last-minute snack, decided against it. The memory of the cilia-fringed grub they’d offered him, or whatever it was, remained vivid in his mind. Better to ration his rations for as long as possible.

  He envied their ability to easily fall asleep in such cramped quarters. The wooden surface beneath him was as uncomfortable as it was unyielding. Trying not to toss and turn, so as to disturb the others as little as possible, he was startled when, an hour later, a bare warm arm flopped loosely across his chest. In her sleep Teal nestled tight against him. Pip stirred but did not wake.

  Reaching down to gently move her arm, he realized that her nearness was more agreeable than displeasing. Resting his own arm across hers, he closed his eyes. Her body heat offset some o
f the discomfort of his hard bed, and while he tried to analyze and dissect what he was feeling, he fell into a deep and contented sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  There wasn’t much room left on the exposed mountaintop, but the pilot of the shuttle that descended carefully next to the one from the Teacher knew her trade. She monitored every critical readout and screen continuously, tweaking the command program structure whenever necessary.

  Larger than Flinx’s craft, the sturdy lander still managed to set down on the bare granite without disturbing its predecessor. Rock pulverized and then vaporized beneath its exhaust. Gravel was blown aside, tearing into and battering the nearest plants. Moments later all went quiet as the new arrival’s engines shut down.

  For a while nothing happened, as the occupants of the second shuttle were intent on monitoring the status of the first. Then a portal appeared in the newly arrived craft’s flank and a service ramp descended.

  Three heavily armed humans appeared in the opening and promptly slid down the sharply raked ramp. From the bottom they ran toward the other shuttle, spreading out to cover its deployed walkway.

  In their wake came a creature massive enough to shake the ramp with its weight. Its strapping, muscular body advanced on four legs. The front portion of the broad-chested torso flowed into a thick, long neck that terminated in a tapering, heavy-browed skull. The jaws were long and flattened, the two nostrils set on the very end. Four arms protruded not from the body but from the neck. A pair of small, round ears listened intently, each pivoting independently of the other. Set beneath the protective, bony ridge of the naked forehead, the two eyes were oval-shaped and alert with intelligence. Sweeping from side to side on the end of that powerful neck, they had tremendous range of vision.

  The upper pair of hands gripped two identical weapons, while the lower set of fingers manipulated instrumentation. A truck-sized pack was strapped to the broad back, while the torso and legs were encased in a brown canvaslike bodysuit. Each stumpy foot was enclosed in a matte black boot. In hue the creature was a pale beige. Longitudinal white slashes striped the exposed neck, vanishing beneath the leading edge of the bodysuit.

  The Mu’Atahl joined one of the humans whose weapon was zeroed in on the entrance to Flinx’s shuttle. After a brief exchange of opinion, the quadruped spoke into the pickup attached to its head. Its voice was deep, its symbospeech thick but competent.

  “No sihgn of lihfe, sihr. The approach is secured.”

  A moment later the ramp extending downward from the new arrival was withdrawn, its function replaced by a proper powerlift. It positioned itself automatically, the sensors on the bottom of the cab slowing to meet the rock.

  A man and a woman exited, neither as heavily armed as their predecessors. They paused to inspect their surroundings before the woman turned to beckon back into the cab. Another man emerged to join them. Murmuring to his predecessors in passing, he advanced to the Mu’Atahl’s side.

  “It is as we essayed status from orbiht, sihr, and confihrmed durihng descent. This landing craft appears deserted.”

  “Thank you, Chaa.” Jack-Jax Coerlis removed his hand from his belted sidearm and scoped the sea of vegetation that lapped energetically at the edges of the exposed rock. “Hell of a place. You saw the survey readouts?”

  “Yes, sihr. An ihmmense forest covers this contihnent and may ihn fact domihnate this entihre world.”

  Coerlis’s fingers rapped absently on his belt buckle, drumming his anxieties to a nonexistent audience. “An inhabitable world that wasn’t in the files. I wonder if he’s been this way before or if he ended up here by accident?”

  “I would think the latter, sihr.” The Mu’Atahl never looked back at Coerlis, keeping his eyes focused at all times on the surrounding vegetation. “The profuse flora suggests a varihety of endemihc lihfe forms. It would be reasonable to assume that at least a small percentage are inihmihcal.”

  “Nervous?” Coerlis challenged the Mu’Atahl with a look.

  “I am always concerned when your safety is ihnvolved, sihr.”

  “Good boy. That’s what I like to hear.”

  Flanked by the man and woman who’d exited the lift cab ahead of him, and with the Mu’Atahl bringing up the rear, its arching head and neck forming a protective canopy, Coerlis walked over to where the ramp emerged from the other shuttle. One of the three who had first spread out to cover the craft joined him.

  Coerlis eyed him expectantly. “Well, Damas?”

  “I went up, sir. As you’d expect, the exterior lock is sealed. There’s no response from inside.”

  A shout made them turn. Another of the men had descended the slight slope to the edge of the forest to inspect the fringing verdure.

  “Over here!”

  They gathered around him. One didn’t have to be a professional tracker to see the clear depressions booted feet had left in the pocket of crumbled, decomposing rock. They inclined downward.

  Coerlis nodded sagely to himself. “So he’s gone for a walk. If he’s using any kind of electronic positioner, and he’d be a fool not to, he’ll be easy to locate.” He glanced sideways. “Feng, get into his ship. Try not to damage it too much. I can always use another shuttle.” The individual so identified turned and sprinted back toward their own craft to get the necessary tools.

  “Aimee, once Feng opens it up you think you can disable his navigational matrix?”

  “Shouldn’t be any trouble, sir.” She placed a hand on her equipment belt. “I can go that one better. I’ll replace his navpak with one of our own. That way if he slips past us somehow and tries to make it back to orbit, his shuttle will only respond to our codes.”

  Coerlis rewarded her with a slight upward curling of his lips. “Excellent. After you’ve done that, extract his location from the shuttle’s relay and set your own positioner to track. If he’s moving around he’ll want to stay in permanent contact with both the shuttle and his ship.

  “Shouldn’t take us long to catch up with him. He won’t be expecting company.” Coerlis’s expression turned ugly. “I’m sure he’s not used to my style of persistence. After all, only a madman would follow anyone all this way just to secure a small personal acquisition.”

  She kept a straight face. “Whatever you say, sir.”

  Coerlis put a paternal arm around her shoulders. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Aimee. You have just enough of a sense of humor to make your presence tolerable. Nothing to excess. For that I hire others.”

  “I’m glad you’re pleased, sir.”

  Peeler was grinning. “You must really hate this guy.”

  Coerlis replied calmly. “Hate has nothing to do with this. It’s a matter of principle.” He turned away to scrutinize the undulating ocean of green. “What do you think, Chaa? A day to catch up with him?”

  “I don’t know, sihr. It depends, of course, on how far he has gone. Myself, I am not a clihmber. I am not lookihng forward to trackihng hihm through this jungle.”

  “You worry too much. He won’t be expecting us. We’ll just drop in on him and then maybe we’ll just drop him.” He giggled, an unexpectedly terse, high sound.

  “Peeler and Rundle have told me about your fihrst confrontation with the young man. Alaspihnian minidrags are lethal.”

  “There are seven of us, Chaa. We know what to expect. Shouldn’t have any trouble surprising him, and as long as we can do that, I don’t foresee any problems.”

  “Surprihse would be best.”

  “I don’t want him harmed. At least, not right away. He didn’t understand me before, and I want to make sure that this time he does. That’s what led to all this trouble; a lack of understanding. I want to make sure he understands before I have him killed.”

  “You humans. You always have to know. Better sihmply to react.”

  “That’s what I’m paying you for, Chaa. To react. Not to philosophize.”

  The flattened jaws stirred. “No sihr, Mihster Coerlis, sihr.”

&n
bsp; Feng had no trouble decoding the standard latch sequence and cycling the shuttle’s lock. As soon as Aimee finished swapping out navpaks with the console, she fixed the absent owner’s position and scheduled her own unit to copy. From now on it would both monitor and duplicate the information their quarry was receiving.

  “Your assumption was correct, sir.” She stood behind Coerlis as he continued his examination of the shuttle’s interior. “He hasn’t gone very far.”

  The magnate popped a storage locker, revealing only standard-issue equipment. “His own vessel will be more enlightening. He hasn’t personalized this one at all. There’s nothing on board suggestive of him.”

  “A shuttle’s a tool, sir. Not much reason to personalize a tool.”

  “Spoken like an engineer.”

  She took no offense. “I’m curious to have a look at his ship. The visuals we made on arrival hint at some interesting modifications.”

  “You’ll have plenty of time to poke, Aimee. I’m counting on you to bring it back to Samstead for me.” She beamed at the confidence, anticipating the opportunity. “I’ll have the codes changed, do a little simple external modification. No one will know and I doubt he’ll be missed, no matter how well-off his supposed friends are.”

  “Why go through all this, sir?” She waved at the forest. “Why not just take his ship and leave him marooned here?”

  He smiled delightedly. “Why Aimee! That’s not thinking at all like an engineer. I like it!” He clapped her approvingly on the back. She responded to his enthusiasm with an uncertain smile.

  Fearing the worst, she’d rebuffed his initial advances long ago. He’d simply shrugged and backed off, explaining that he valued her professional expertise far more than he did her body. Competent, slightly amoral professionals were hard to find, whereas mere physical satisfaction was cheap and plentiful. Despite this, there was often something in his expression, in his enigmatic smile, in his penetrating gaze, that left her feeling awkward and vaguely unclean.