Patrimony (Pip and Flinx)

by Alan Dean Foster

  Zlezelrenn sensed the new alien emissions weakening. Having momentarily lost sight of the flying creature, he was afraid they had run past the source when Hluriamm halted sharply and pointed to her left.

  “There!”

  Though initially reluctant to do so, the beautiful flying thing finally rose and moved away from the body that was lying on the ground. Snow had not yet covered much of the human’s face. As Zlezelrenn and his companions gathered around the figure, the flying beast hovered nearby. While watching intently, it made no move to interfere.

  Klerjamboo started to reach down for the offworlder’s arm. Hesitating, he looked around at the others. “Does anyone here know anything about the physiology uv humans?”

  “I have dealt with some settlers.” Shifting his position slightly, Zlezelrenn regarded another of the hunters. “So has Vlashraa.”

  “Only cursorily.” She was uncharacteristically reticent. There was nothing tentative in her physical response, however, when she reached down and ran the gripping cilia of her left hand over the human’s bulbous face, lightly making contact with its assortment of peculiar bulges and protuberances. “I du know that they are less tolerant uv cold than the Tlel. This one seems tu me tu be badly chilled.” She continued to study the angular, motionless form. “Unless attire deceives its shape, I believe it is a male.”

  “And its flii is alternately feeble and overwhelming.” Klerjamboo looked upon the figure without fear. Tlel and human had lived together for a number of generations now. Mutual respect had long ago eliminated any apprehension.

  “At least that denotes life.” Much like his character, Nlowwnee was direct and uncomplicated.

  Vlashraa eyed the silently staring Hluriamm. “Do yu still want to shoot it?”

  The larger female considered the recumbent body. “Let me think. I am trying tu decide if its skin is thick enough tu be mountable.” She was only being half facetious. The other half…

  The human put an end to any such tawdry speculation by moaning and trying to roll over. The Tlel surrounding him held their ground, though Hluriamm and Nlowwnee flinched slightly.

  “We must raise its body temperature.” Straightening, Vlashraa studied the surrounding vegetation. “As it is tuu heavy tu be carried in the traditional free manner, we must make a carry-sled.”

  “A chance tu practice a traditional craft!” Klerjamboo was clearly delighted.

  If the carry-sled was fashioned of traditional materials taken from the forest, however, the means used to put it together were decidedly updated. Instead of strip-stem stitching, the use of cutting and sealing tools made short work of binding together the necessary lengths of tree. When all was nearly finished, a somewhat chastened Hluriamm remarked on a deficiency that was immediately apparent.

  “There is no cushion of material tu support the neck.”

  Here Vlashraa’s knowledge of the offworlders came into play. “None is needed. See how much thicker and more muscular is the portion uv the body that supports the head? Unlike urs, it can lie out straight fur a long period uv time without snapping.”

  “Without moving adequately, either, I would imagine.” Hluriamm, who could turn her flattened skull a full 180 degrees, could not envision how the creature could possibly see what was behind it without having to turn its whole body.

  When they lifted the limp, remarkably flexible form onto the finished carry-sled, the flying creature darted close to monitor their actions. While its lesser flii remained more or less constant, that of the human continued to fluctuate like an erratic dynamo. Once, while they were pulling the sled behind them, the silent human emitted a burst that nearly caused them to drop their gangly burden.

  The hairs on her head twitching, Hluriamm hastened to employ her cilia to massage and relax the sensitive organs. “Nevernever have I been around a human such as this! One would almost think it was hiding a small generator on its person.”

  Zlezelrenn looked back at her from his position near the front of the slapped-together carry-sled. “Not this one. I’ve checked his clothing. It’s definitely emanating frum within.”

  “Maybe he swallowed a generator.” It was with decidedly mixed feelings that Hluriamm continued to study their newly adopted responsibility as well as the flying creature that presently lay coiled on the rectangular chest. That portion of the human’s torso continued to slowly rise and fall, indicating that air was still circulating within. Though Hluriamm had no idea of the mechanics involved, she had been assured by Zlezelrenn that it proved the human was still breathing and was therefore still alive.

  It was not that she wished to be ignorant of the species that now shared a small portion of Silvoun with her people. It was only that in her village, opportunities to interact with and learn more about the strange creatures were infrequent at best. One day, she promised herself, she would have to go to Tlossene.

  Meanwhile, a wandering human had come into her community and that of her friends, and she would do her best to learn what she could from him. Especially if, as her more knowledgeable companions Zlezelrenn and Vlashraa were inclined to believe, this human appeared to be something out of the ordinary even for a member of his own kind.

  Flinx awoke with a familiar weight on his chest. As soon as she saw her master conscious, and sensed no panic, Pip uncoiled, unfurled her wings, rose into the air, and flew over to settle down in the pool of intermittent sunlight that was pouring through the triangular window. The material of which the transparency was composed appeared to be normal spray glass: nothing exotic or alien.

  He had no difficulty sitting up, since the bed rested at a thirty-degree angle. That was how the Tlel slept; if compelled to lie on a completely flat surface, their naturally low center of gravity would put too much pressure on their thin necks and, eventually, on their heads. There was even a pillow of sorts—a soft balloon-shape that had been placed not under his head but under his neck, Tlel-fashion. Whereas whoever had provided it had doubtless done so with the best of intentions, the result was that Flinx sat up with a neck that was more than a little stiff.

  He swallowed hard, fighting back his digestive system’s initial adverse reaction to his surroundings. While the room in which he found himself was neat, orderly, and well-appointed, it stank like an unfumigated old fish locker. He needed no further sign that he was in a Tlel dwelling and not a human one. Straightening, he surveyed his surroundings. The functions of some of the devices and furniture he saw were self-evident. Others remained a mystery to him. In one corner he was startled to see a garish tri-level twizzat—three iridescent discs that spun around a common center, flashing colors in series. Though nothing more than a cheap child’s toy, it was conspicuously out of place in the otherwise altogether Tlelian room. He perked up at the sight of it. Its presence signified that whoever had found him, freezing and unconscious out in the forest, had contact with Commonwealth goods and services. Perhaps the twizzat’s owner had even bought it in Tlossene.

  A shape ambled in, ambulating via the now familiar side-to-side rocking stride of Gestalt’s natives. Flinx recognized female accoutrements. She carried a sealed container. Flinx reached up to his throat to make sure the translator necklace was still dangling in place. Like the rest of him, it was battered but still functioning.

  “My name is Vlashraa. My friends and I were out hunting when we found yu and yur creature.”

  Nodding to indicate that he understood, he gestured in the direction of the single window. “Her name is Pip. Mine is Flinx.” He turned back to her. “I lost my identification and everything else in the river when my skimmer went down.”

  The tone of her reply suggested sympathy. “Yu were very cold-cold when we found yu.”

  Squinting, he peered out the window. A number of unpretentious single-story structures were visible among clusters of trees similar to those where he had collapsed. “Thank you. How did you find me?”

  “Yur creature led us tu yu. When we drew near, it was possible tu sense yur flii.” Her
eyeband focused intently on him. “Very strong fliiflii yu emit, Flinx.”

  Interesting. No one had ever commented on his flii before. With reason, since the Tlel were the first sentient species he had encountered who possessed the necessary sensory mechanism for detecting it.

  She set the container she was carrying down on a low table. Several notches cut into the sides of the stand allowed room for the stout Tlel to more easily access their food, since they ate standing up. When she unsealed the very contemporary container a flurry of attractive aromas filled the room, doing battle with the otherwise noisome atmosphere. None of which the Tlel themselves could detect, he knew.

  Taking a step back, she indicated the open container. “This is food yur system should be able tu tolerate. Among ur Elders, Klerjamboo has several times observed humans feeding and marked what they ate. It was he whu suggested and oversaw the preparation uv the dishes that are included here.” Like a tilting platter, her head dipped in Flinx’s direction. “If there is something in it that does not agree with yu, please tell me. We need no false reticence here.”

  “Don’t worry.” As he stepped away from the bed and moved toward the table, a hungry Pip joined him. “I’m not shy.”

  Since the Tlel used beds and tables but not chairs he was forced to stand as he sorted through the steaming packages stacked inside the container. Choosing the one that smelled the best, even though he knew that odor was no especial indicator of palatability, he peeled it and took a bite of the spongy material inside. Though it had the consistency of packing material, the flavor was pleasantly peppery and his stomach did not reject it out of hand.

  “You saved my life,” he finally thought to mention as he dug into the nourishing contents of a second package. If not for the tiny eyes located on the end of each steaming tubular shape within, he would have thought it contained poached mung beans. Resolutely ignoring the miniature eyeballs, he bit into the stringy shapes with relish.

  Vlashraa studied the process with interest. Unlike Elder Klerjamboo, this was the first time she had observed a human eating. The mechanics of it looked awkward, as if with each bite the offworlder might sprain his narrow jaws.

  “Yu say yur skimmer went down. We saw no sign uv it.”

  “The river swept it away.” He spoke while masticating another mouthful of the beady-eyed sprouts.

  “What caused yu tu crash?”

  Flinx did not hesitate. “Mechanical malfunction. The escort who was with me died. I tried to save her, but she was too badly injured in the crash.”

  Vlashraa contemplated the human. His words were accompanied by a noticeable spike in his flii. Most likely a reflection of the honest emotion he must be feeling—though there was no proof of that.

  “Yu are vertical. Would yu like tu go outside?” With its gripping cilia pressed together to form a single tapering point, one long attenuated arm motioned in the direction of the doorway. “Fluadann, who is senior Healer among us, says that fresh air is reputed tu be as restorative fur humans as it is fur Tlel.”

  “I wouldn’t disagree. Yes, I’d like that.”

  Noting that his clothing had been as neatly cleaned and laid out as if it had been treated and returned by a modern automated sanitizing unit, he dressed slowly and carefully. Though it appeared nothing was broken, he wasn’t about to take chances by making any sudden, sharp movements. Also, he was still weak from his arduous sojourn in the forest. Sending out an emotional call, he beckoned Pip to join him. As soon as she was snuggled beneath his jacket, he turned and smiled at the inquisitive Tlel.

  “It’s not that Pip is shy,” he explained. “She gets cold even easier than I do.”

  More village than city, Vlashraa’s town of Tleremot presented an amalgamation of old and new Silvoun he had not encountered previously. Built on a slope, the village offered sweeping views across a wide forest-filled valley all the way to the mountains that rose anew on the opposite side. The river that had claimed his skimmer and his escort could be glimpsed through a gap in the trees. Modern sprayed, prefab, and custom structures, primarily individual homes but with a few commercial buildings also visible, stood arrayed around an open circle that was the Tlelian equivalent of a public square.

  A road led through the town and down to the river. Smaller structures were visible on its banks. He saw no sign of dray or other domesticated animals, though he knew that the omnivorous Tlel kept some. When not walking, the adaptive natives made use of small, powered personal transports. The largest of these could hold as many as half a dozen travelers. Though he was disappointed not to see any skimmers or aircraft, that did not mean the village was devoid of such fast means of transport.

  In striking contrast with the newer part of the community, older habitations and storerooms had been dug into the side of the hundred-meter-high cliff that formed the back of the village. Over time, natural caves that a much higher, faster prehistoric river had once excavated from the rock had been walled in and enlarged. It was to one of these ancient, traditional dwellings that he had been taken, and it was there that he had been nursed back to consciousness.

  As they walked through the community, Vlashraa greeted and was greeted in turn by fellow citizens. Though he could not see all of it at one glance, Flinx estimated Tleremot’s population at no more than a couple of hundred. That was not necessarily a drawback. Though small in size, the nature of its buildings, the modern accoutrements he saw in use, as well as elements of Vlashraa’s speech, all pointed to regular contact with larger, more advanced communities. His hopes were quickly and easily confirmed.

  “You have communication with other towns and—cities?”

  “Of course,” she told him. “We are serviced by multiple satellite relay. Is there perhaps someone in Tlossene or elsewhere on Silvoun that yu wish tu talk tu? Tu assure them that yu are alive and well, if momentarily stranded?”

  Flinx considered contacting the company from which he had rented his skimmer. Better to delay reporting that awkward bit of news, he decided. Not only to avoid having to argue about circumstance and money, but because he was not yet ready to announce his continued existence among the living. Whoever had come hunting for him might also have the expertise and the wherewithal to monitor an unknown variety of communications, including any intended for a certain skimmer rental company. The longer he kept knowledge of his survival quiet, the longer his privacy and safety would be ensured.

  “Maybe later,” he told the helpful Vlashraa. Refusing to take a backseat to his brain, his stomach chose that moment to speak up forcefully. The Tlel stared at him but otherwise did not react to the peculiar sotto voce growl. Even so, Flinx looked apologetic. “What I’d really like is something more to eat. I appreciate what you’ve given me already, but I’d be lying if I denied that I’m still hungry.”

  “There is no need tu apologize. I am pleased fur yu. Hunger is a sign uv good health. We will pay a visit to Healer Fluadann, whu will best know what additional foods uv urs tu recommend fur yu now that yu are walking once more.”

  “I have some idea,” he told her. “I’ve kept down what I’ve already eaten, and I also shared some of my escort’s food.” Bleshmaa had been accommodating that way, he recalled. Though he had thought many times of the ever-helpful escort since losing her to the river, it was only at that moment that he found himself choking up.

  Observing the phenomenon in silent amazement, Vlashraa found herself wondering at the seemingly inexplicable shedding of water that had commenced from the corners of the human’s eyes.

  CHAPTER 9

  Nearly an hour passed before Halvorsen finally stopped yelling at the supervisor of the repair facility where he had left his damaged skimmer. The frustrated hunter was nothing if not consistent: every facet of the necessary repair work, from what needed to be done to get the skimmer back in working order to what the repairs were going to cost, had brought forth from its owner an inventive, odious fulmination covering everything from the shop owner’s professional ineptit
ude to doubts regarding the nature of his ancestry. Having dealt with Halvorsen before, the shop owner suffered through it all without comment. Early on he had learned the important lesson that in business it was better to cultivate a spiteful client who paid in full and on time than one who was charmingly and consistently impecunious.

  Halvorsen’s wrath was muted by the knowledge that the reward he was about to claim would more than cover the repair cost to his vehicle. In fact, if he so wished, he would be able to buy a new one. Having verbally relieved himself on the unfortunate but tolerant shop owner, he turned his attention to filing his claim. Since like all space-minus communications it would have to cross the relevant interstellar gap via Tlossene’s projector, he could not very well have his dimensional avatar standing forth declaiming, The one you wanted killed is dead—I took care of it myself. While admirably succinct, such a straightforward admission could potentially expose him to awkward inquiries. While modest in size and limited in experience, Gestalt’s planetary law enforcement entity was not entirely incompetent.

  Consequently, he took the time to make efficient use of code words and intentional misdirection. Those receiving the message would know exactly what was being talking about. Developed and refined through hundreds of years of use, space-minus communication was swift and efficient. Everything being equal, the response to his communiqué should take the form of a series (a series being employed to avoid drawing attention to the overall sum) of substantial transfers that would significantly augment his bank account. Just thinking about it almost allowed him to forget what it was going to cost to repair his damaged skimmer. Almost.

  Descending on his quarry with surprise on his side, he’d expected no resistance. That his youthful target had managed to put up much more than a cursory fight spoke highly of his abilities. It went a long way toward explaining why the cryptically yclept Order of Null was willing to pay such a large amount to arrange for his demise. It did not give a reason why the unknown faction wanted him dead. This dearth of detail did not trouble Halvorsen. It was none of his business.