Mid-Flinx (Pip and Flinx)

by Alan Dean Foster

  She frowned. “There is no misery in dying. It is part of the natural order. Death begets life. This is nothing to sorrow about.”

  “But if the animal is hurting—”

  “Ciinravan shows more than he feels,” Teal assured him. “It is not so bad as it appears.”

  “I was just thinking that—” Suddenly he paused and put a hand to the side of his head, turning sharply. His eyes scanned the impenetrable green walls. Alarmed, Pip took to the air, leaving her master’s shoulder to search for the perceived danger.

  “What is it?” Teal looked uncertain.

  Rising on her hind legs, Tuuvatem sniffed the damp air before concluding with a soft snort. “There’s nothing. The skyperson hears a flitter, and jumps.” She dropped back to all sixes.

  Teal glanced at him. “Flinx?”

  “I thought—I thought I felt the presence of other persons.” He looked down at her. “Would your people send out search parties to look for you?”

  She shook her head. “They have more practical things to do with their time.”

  “Another family of sugararry gatherers?” Again she shook her head.

  Moomadeem nudged him roughly with a shoulder. “Maybe you were sensing me?”

  “No. These were human feelings.”

  “Not impossible,” the furcot admitted, much to Flinx’s surprise. He was convinced that the young creature was eager to dispute anything he said.

  “I can’t be sure of anything on this world,” he muttered, as much to himself as to Teal. “I suppose the first thing is to get you all safely home.”

  “No,” she replied. “First we must bury Ciinravan.”

  “Bury?” He eyed the rapidly failing animal. “It’s a long ways to the ground.”

  “Why would anyone, person or furcot, want to be buried in the Lower Hell?” she asked him. “There are proper places. We can move the body. Saalahan will help. Even you can help.”

  “Of course,” he told her, without comprehending. He let his gaze rove the hylaea, wondering where and how they intended to dig a hole large enough to accommodate the furcot’s bulk.

  Saalahan jumped easily to the next branch and vanished into the verdure. “Once a place has been found, we will move Ciinravan,” she told Flinx. “Meanwhile we will attend the last moments. And we must also find shelter for the night.”

  Flinx glanced skyward. The torpid cloud cover was already beginning to darken.

  Chapter Ten

  “They’re heading down again.” Feng checked his own positioner. They each carried one, standard issue for travel on any world. He checked the readout with Chaa and then Peeler. Their numbers matched reassuringly. “You can tell by the variance in the signal. Nice job of tuning, Aimee.” As she acknowledged the compliment with a nod, he brushed at a clinging vine covered with fuzz. Fine hairs came off in his hand, imparting a mild burning sensation. He rubbed the skin angrily against one leg of the chameleon suit.

  “Why don’t they keep to one height?”

  “Maybe they don’t like being exposed to the sky,” Peeler suggested. “You could ask Damas about that.”

  “Real funny. Big joke.” Feng examined the rash the hairs had inflicted on his hand. They carried gloves, but despite the suits’ best efforts at cooling and dehumidifying, it was still oppressively hot. Wearing gloves was out of the question.

  “Everybody hold up.” Aimee had halted and was waving for attention. They crowded close to her.

  The branch they had been following emerged from a trunk fifteen meters in diameter. There were no other branches within easy reach, and the trunk itself was as smooth as glass, offering nothing in the way of a toe- or handhold.

  “Where did they go from here?” Rundle peered cautiously over the side. It was a ten-meter drop to the next suitable branch. Plenty of vines and creepers trailed from overhead down into the emerald depths, but no one was in a rush to test their strength.

  “Over there.” Feng was standing on the opposite side of the branch.

  On the north side of the tree a cluster of thorns as long and thick as a man’s arm protruded from the otherwise perfectly smooth bark, forming dense clusters directly on the trunk.

  “Make a serviceable ladder, don’t you think?” Feng beamed proudly at his discovery.

  Aimee was less convinced. “I don’t know . . .”

  “You see a better way down? Look at those two.” A pair of skinny six-limbed creatures were scampering up the far side of the trunk, utilizing the thorn clusters in much the same fashion as Feng had suggested. Each was about a meter tall. Their tiny heads were completely dominated by three oversized, pale brown eyes. Glancing anxiously in the direction of the party of humans, they fled as expeditiously as possible. Patches of electric-blue flashed from the backs of their otherwise dun-colored bodies.

  Once safely overhead, they lingered on several thorns to peer down at the travelers, chattering and whistling emphatically. For such comparatively small creatures, they had exceedingly loud voices.

  “Look at them,” ordered Feng. “Do they look like they’re worried about anything?”

  Watching the obstreperous pair as they scampered restlessly from cluster to cluster, it was difficult to imagine that the thorns represented any danger. The sharp protrusions looked strong enough to support all of them, including the much heavier Chaa.

  “You’re right, it does look safe.” Coerlis smiled at Feng. “You go first.”

  The other man’s expression fell, but he nodded and reached tentatively for the nearest thorn. When it neither reacted nor broke off in his grasp, his companions relaxed.

  “I don’t understand how he can move so fast.” Coerlis stood peering into the dense vegetation as he waited his turn at the thorn ladder. “He doesn’t know anyone’s chasing him so there’s no reason for him to be traveling so rapidly. There are no set routes through this, no obvious paths left by animals, so he has to pick his way just like us. He hasn’t been here before.”

  The engineer was stepping cautiously out onto one thorn while tightly gripping another. “How do you know, sir?”

  “Because no one’s ever been here before. Not according to general records, anyway.”

  “Records are not perfect.” Chaa was scanning the forest, weapons at the ready as always. He would make the descent last, after everyone else was safely down on the next branch.

  “Where the hell could he be going in all this?” Coerlis’s brow furrowed as he sought rationale for the inexplicable.

  “Maybe he’s just out for a stroll. Maybe he likes to explore.” Rundle was halfway down and feeling much more confident in their chosen route.

  “Then he should be taking his time.” Coerlis kicked absently at the woody surface underfoot. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “We should be able to overtake him tomorrow.” The Mu’Atahl exuded quiet confidence.

  “We’d better. I don’t like it here.” Coerlis put a hand on the immense, glossy wall of the trunk. “Although there’re definite commercial possibilities here. Exotic hardwoods, new biologicals, medicinal extracts: enough to justify sending out a full evaluation team. Later.” His gaze narrowed as he sought to penetrate the all-concealing green. “Right now all I want is to add a certain specimen to my zoological collection.”

  Feng was almost down. The two big-eyed chatterers had scrambled down another part of the trunk and now waited just above the next branch as they continued to monitor the intruders’ progress, “Look at them, whistling away. They’re damn cute.”

  “They are.” Carefully positioning her hands and feet, the engineer peered up at her employer. “Why don’t you bring them back for your collection, sir?”

  “Maybe on the way back,” Coerlis replied diffidently.

  “That’s funny. They’re not running away from us now.” Rundle studied the pair as he followed in Feng’s wake.

  “That’s because not everybody’s face is as frightening as your ugly puss,” the other man replied. He exten
ded a friendly hand downward. “C’mere, guys. I won’t hurt you.”

  The big-eyes responded with a flourish of incomprehensible chatter and promptly vanished into a hole in the trunk.

  “So you don’t scare ’em, huh?” Rundle grinned broadly.

  “Where’d they go?” Peeler paused to let Rundle, who was just below, descend another step.

  Feng leaned out. “They’ve got some kind of nest in the tree. There are some big thorns, but I could reach in and grab ’em easy if I had to. Their teeth are real small and flat.” He moved sideways, positioning himself on one of the extra-long thorns. “Hey, guys, how’re you doin’ in there?” He reached in to stroke the thick brown fur of the animal nearest.

  The entire immense mass of the tree shivered slightly.

  Coerlis was jolted off his thorn, but Chaa, demonstrating inhuman speed and strength, reached down and grabbed the man by the collar of his chameleon suit, drawing him back to safe footing. Rundle and Peeler fell to the branch, Peeler landing hard and rolling, while Aimee clung desperately to one long thorn with both arms, her legs kicking at empty air.

  A dull thump seemed to resonate through the entire forest. Panicked creatures flew or ran in all directions, flashes of color amidst the all-pervasive green. Above the whistling and howling and hooting, Peeler was shouting frantically.

  “Feng! You all right?” From their location on the branch he moved as far as he could to his right to see what had happened to the other man. Rundle helped the shaken Aimee down the last couple of steps.

  “I’m—I’m okay,” came the shaken reply. “But I’m stuck.”

  “Stuck? What do you mean you’re ‘stuck’?” Coerlis reached the branch with Chaa close behind. With his long neck, the Mu’Atahl could see better than any of them.

  “Some kind of a trap,” the alien announced.

  “Four big thorns,” the engineer added. “They’ve folded right over him. Like this.” She interlocked the fingers of both hands.

  “They’re not thorns. They are part of somethihng else that lihves on the tree.” The Mu’Atahl pointed. “Look closely and you can see where it fihts perfectly ihnto a hollow in the trunk.”

  The thin, almost imperceptible line that delineated the creature’s outline was nearly four meters in length and two wide. As they tried to make sense of what they were seeing, Feng was pushing and shoving at his prison. He managed to wedge his right leg between two of the thorns but could make the gap no wider.

  “I’m sure it’s real fascinating,” he growled at his companions. “Now how about getting me out of here? Hey . . . ow!”

  “What is it?” asked Peeler anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

  “One of those damn little monkey-things just bit the hell out of my right ankle. Little bastard, get away from me!”

  “You—you all right?” Rundle stammered.

  “Yeah. I smacked him good and he went to the back of his hole.”

  “We’ll have to burn him out.” Coerlis fingered his pistol speculatively. “We don’t have anything else to cut with. Unless you think you can snap those thorns, Chaa.”

  The Mu’Atahl studied Feng’s prison. “This wood supports my weight, but those are of a different composition. They are desihned to restrain ihntruders. I do not know if I wihll have success.”

  “Take it easy,” Rundle shouted to his friend. “We’ll get you out of there.” He looked confidently back at his companions. “It’s some kind of trap the big-eyes use to get food, but in this case the food’s bigger than they are. Feng can fight them off until we get him out.”

  “C’mon, you guys, hurry it up.” It was the prisoner, sounding anxious.

  “What’s the rush?” Peeler made a face at Aimee. “Accommodations not to your liking?”

  “It’s not that,” the other man replied. “That place on my leg where the little shit bit me? I can’t feel it. It’s gone numb.”

  “Who the hell would want to feel your leg, Feng?” Aimee was doing her best to encourage him, but her expression was pale.

  Peeler and Rundle carefully worked their way over to where Feng was imprisoned, each of them taking up a position on either side. When Peeler leaned close he saw that the pseudothorns had contracted even farther, shutting out the light and probably forcing Feng even farther inside.

  “What’s going on?” Coerlis demanded to know.

  “Can’t see him. The thorns are blocking the hole completely now.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t see him? He’s got to be in there. Feng, what the hell’s going on?”

  This time the other man didn’t answer.

  Chaa had worked his way across the side of the trunk. Now he settled himself just above the closed opening. “Both of you get out of the way.” He cradled a heavy rifle in his lower hands while gripping supportive thorns with the other pair and all four legs. Peeler and Rundle scrambled hastily back down to the branch.

  As soon as they were clear, the Mu’Atahl released a concentrated burst from the high-energy weapon. One of the thorns turned to brown powder laced with dark green. Sap bubbled from the neatly sheared stump. Two more bursts cleared the opening.

  While Peeler went in, shining his service light ahead of him, the others waited silently. Hardly a moment passed before gagging, choking sounds came from inside the hole.

  “Dammit,” Aimee muttered tightly.

  The buzz of a needler replaced the retching noises. Then Peeler stuck his head out where the others could see him.

  “Feng’s dead.”

  Coerlis’s lips thinned. “What happened?”

  “Those little monkey-things? I put a shot through each of ’em. Slimy little—”

  “Get ahold of yourself!” Coerlis barked. “What—happened?”

  “It wasn’t the big-eyes. They’re just some kind of mobile bait that bites back. There’s a big pink sac in here, all covered with mucus. It dissolves whatever it touches. It dissolved part of my left boot before I pulled away from it. Feng was—inside. And one of those big-eyes had its head shoved halfway into Feng’s chest. Now we know why they’re so small in comparison to the rest of the body. The other one was ripping into his gut. God, it’s sickening!”

  “External stomach.” The Mu’Atahl was calm as ever. “The creature extruded it to swallow Feng. It must utihlize highly acihdic gastrihc juices. The harmless-looking, bihg-eyed hexapods lure prey ihnto the hole, the thornlihke protuberances trap it, the hexapods bihte and ihnject some kihnd of paralyzihng toxihn, and then the external stomach takes over and begihns the process of dihgestion. There is much teamwork ihnvolved, and all parties clearly share in the fruihts of the capture.”

  Aimee put a hand over her mouth and turned away while Rundle cursed under his breath. “Fast,” Coerlis observed coolly. “It works fast. I wonder if it’s a plant or an animal?”

  “I am not a xenologihst,” the Mu’Atahl replied. Behind him the engineer had turned as green as some of the surrounding vegetation. “With its bait creatures dead and its imprihsonihng thorns burnt away, I wonder if it wihll regenerate ihtself or die?”

  “I hope it dies! I hope it starves to death, slowly.” Aimee was breathing hard. “What a lousy way to go. I liked Feng.”

  “A valued employee.” Coerlis’s tone suddenly changed as he peered curiously at her. “You two weren’t . . .?”

  She turned a startled gaze toward him. “No, Jack-Jax, we weren’t. He was a decent guy, that’s all.”

  “Oh.” The merchant seemed disappointed. “This will be a lesson to all of us. It should make everyone that much more anxious to catch up with our evasive friend.”

  “Yeah. Oh yeah.” Grim-faced, she caressed her needler. “I want to find him. I want to find him and get the hell out of here.”

  “Then we need to move.” Looking up from studying his positioner, Chaa pointed westward. “That way.”

  The others followed, ignoring a flock of delicate pastel flying creatures the size of overweight sparrows. The well-organize
d swarm swept past them and eagerly entered the still smoking cavity in the side of the tree. Each of them was a visual delight, an iridescent winged wonder that flashed ruby and lapis and topaz in the diffuse daylight.

  They were almost too beautiful to be scavengers.

  Aimee did her best to encourage Rundle, who shuffled along listlessly. Not because she was particularly fond of him, but because they all had to depend on one another, and it didn’t help to have one of their number moping about aimlessly, not paying attention to his surroundings.

  “Look, I liked Feng, too. He made a mistake, that’s all.” She eyed the surrounding verdure warily. “You don’t go looking to pet anything here. You don’t even touch anything unless you absolutely have to. It was his own fault.”

  “Got to get away from here.” Rundle’s voice had fallen so low she had to strain to understand the big man. “Got to get out.” His eyes looked haunted. “Could’ve happened to any one of us, right about that.” He nodded down at the branch they were traversing.

  “This right here, somethin’ in it could jump out and swallow us right up. Never notice it until it was too late.” He looked around sharply. There was nothing there—and everything there.

  Aimee put an arm through his and hugged gently. “Take it easy. Not everything here is carnivorous. It wouldn’t make sense. This world is dangerous, but it’s not irrational.” Lifting one leg, she stomped hard on the underlying wood, twice. Four meters thick, it didn’t even quiver.

  “See? It’s just a branch. Solid as any bridge, maybe more so. Plain, ordinary wood. Not everything here bites or snaps or stings. You just have to be careful.” She lifted her gaze and smiled. “Look at those.”

  A tangle of slender blue-green vines tumbled from somewhere overhead. Thin and fragile, they formed elegant spirals of uncommon attractiveness. Dozens of tiny lavender flowers striped with gold lined the delicate strands, exuding a subtle yet rich fragrance. Even Coerlis was impressed.

  “Striking appearance and aroma.” He inhaled deeply before moving on. “Hopefully, it can be distilled.”