Flinx Transcendent

by Alan Dean Foster

  “And you to yours!” Flinx readied himself as his opponent's powerful thigh muscles contracted and the nye sprang at him, crossing the space between them in a single leap.

  Their intent laid bare by their emotions, Eiipul IXb and IXc each took a step forward. Their purpose was to aid their parent and end the fight as quickly as possible. Before they could even approach the two adult combatants they found themselves confronting something small, winged, and bright of body and wing. The minidrag hovered in the air before them, its jaws parted. Hesitating, brother and sister contemplated the flying creature. In their culture, a wide-open mouth was always to be considered a threat. What danger the alien organism posed to them they did not know. It was as foreign to their experience as the softskin currently skirmishing with their patriarch. But they had been taught well.

  When you are confronted by something that is much smaller than you yet obviously unafraid despite the disparity in size, it suggests two things. Either the being in question is bluffing—or it is not. There is usually only one way to find out where the truth lies.

  Holding their ground and facing something entirely outside their experience, it appeared that in this particular instance neither brother nor sister was inclined to test which reality was the correct one.

  Flinx found himself unable to guess Lord Eiipul's age. Not that it mattered. The noble was fast, perceptive, and a master of AAnn fighting techniques. His high-velocity attack employed frequent high kicks featuring extended claws, slashing hands, vicious snaps of tooth-laden jaws, and that ever-present dangerously whipping tail. At least the latter was not equipped with an armored point, as Kiijeem's had been when Flinx had originally encountered his young host.

  He could have tried projecting on his adversary. A touch of fear, a hint of uncertainty, a soupçon of indecision: any of these would have slowed the tornado of teeth, claws, and tail that Lord Eiipul had become. But in order to properly engage his Talent, Flinx needed a hiatus of at least a few seconds in order to concentrate. Eiipul did not grant him that much of a lull. The AAnn just kept coming; slashing, cutting, kicking, and biting in an attempt to bring his opponent down. A human with no experience of AAnn fighting techniques would have already buckled, lacerated and torn.

  Flinx was not so straightforward an opponent. Using hands and feet he was able to block thrusting claws before they could cut and tear. Employing his greater height, he was able to fend off his foe's repeated attempts to fasten strong jaws on arm or leg. He did not strike out himself, made no attempt to cripple or immobilize his enemy. It was Eiipul's help he sought, not his death. If he could just continue to hold his attacker off, his youth and greater stamina ought to slow the contest to a point where he could simply tackle an exhausted Eiipul and hold his opponent down until he conceded.

  Lord Eiipul IX was no fool. He knew when he was being toyed with. Instead of making him think, this only enraged him further. The human, a softskin, was condescending to him! In hand-to-hand combat! It was scarcely to be believed. He redoubled his efforts. But regardless of the attacking combination he employed, each time he struck, the softskin somehow managed to deflect his most forceful effort. Truly, the human was taller, and truly, he had the advantage of youth, but Eiipul felt that his long experience should have more than countered both of these factors. Instead he found every thrust shunted aside, every kick blocked, every bite clamping down only on empty air. His legs were starting to grow heavy—he could not kick as high and as often as in earlier days. His breathing was coming in longer, deeper gasps. And his tail threatened to become an appendage useful for little more than maintaining balance. It was no longer the sound barrier-breaking weapon of yore.

  In addition to mounting fatigue, he was also beginning to feel the first inklings of fear.

  He did not show it, of course. Not only his opponent but his offspring were watching. Why didn't the softskin strike back? Several times Eiipul realized that a failed attack had exposed him to a potentially ruinous riposte by the human. And each time, his surprisingly agile opponent had simply waited for Eiipul to recover and attack again.

  Even though it was a strategy that had already failed several times, he decided to go low and try to take his taller opponent's legs out from under him. Once again he feinted with both hands, one after the other, bit down with his jaws, and whirled. His tail whipped around, extending his reach beyond his feet.

  Too slow, he realized immediately. Far too slow. The softskin could easily step back out of range. Or worse, leap forward. A move like that would put him on Eiipul's back.

  That was exactly what happened. Dimly, he heard the escalating hisses of dismay from his progeny and their damnable friend Kiijeem. Though slim, the human was heavier than Eiipul expected. The alien weight forced him to the floor. He flailed with his tail but struck nothing; the softskin was too high on his back. One fleshy but muscular arm went under Eiipul's chin, forcing his jaws closed, up, and back. The other limb—long, limber, and deceptively soft—pulled the noble's right arm behind his back. Pressure was applied. Despite himself, Eiipul let out a hiss of pain. There was enough weight behind that grip to break the bone.

  The human continued to pull—and abruptly rolled over onto his own back. A disoriented Eiipul found himself dragged on top, albeit with his arm still pinned. His tail was free now to strike downward against the human's legs. Incongruously round pupils peered up into his own.

  “I yield, noble Eiipul! I am defeated. I cast mysself upon your mercy.”

  What softskin twaddle was this? a bewildered Eiipul found himself wondering. The alien grip on his right arm was still unyielding. The human had been in complete control, in a position to end the fight however he saw fit. Instead, he had chosen to roll over onto his back and surrender. It made no sense, absolutely no sense.

  As little sense, in fact, as the softskin's mad, lunatic tale about an undetectable threat to the entire galaxy and his individual involvement in some fantastic attempt to deal with it.

  Voices drew his attention. Unexpectedly released from their anguish by the surprising turn of events, his offspring were shouting wildly at him.

  “Throat!” his daughter was screaming. “Tear out hiss throat!”

  “Legss!” Eiipul IXb was hissing from the top of his larynx. “Dissembowel before it can risse!” Standing beside him, a thoughtful Kiijeem remained silent. Less personally involved in the preceding combat, only he among the trio of younglings suspected what had actually occurred.

  Opening his mouth, Lord Eiipul revealed teeth that were far more sharklike than mammalian. Slowly, he lowered his gaping jaws toward Flinx. Off to the side Pip fluttered uncertainly.

  When that compilation of razor-sharp dentition had dropped very close to the human's face, Eiipul hissed in an angry whisper, “Why are you doing thiss?”

  “Doing what?” With both his hands occupied the human could not gesture any degree of guile, but Eiipul divined it nonetheless.

  “Allowing me a triumph. I could not touch you and wass clearly tiring. You patronize me, ssoftsskin!”

  Flinx smiled tightly even as he wondered if the AAnn noble was familiar enough with humankind to recognize the significance of the expression. “No—truly, no. I submit for the same reasons I challenged. To obtain your help—and because your offspring are looking on. While I feel no hesitation to do you injury, I would not have you lose status before them and their friend.”

  Ignoring the imploring from his progeny to finish the fight, Eiipul drew back slightly. “Truly, you are the mosst AAnn of ssoftsskinss I have ever encountered or heard tell of. Your adoptive Tier sshould be proud. I would hear more of how you came to be one of them.”

  Flinx's smile widened ever so slightly. “That may prove difficult if you rip my throat out or disembowel me.”

  “Truly that would inconvenience conversation.” Raising his voice, he straightened atop the prone human and glared over at his offspring. His tail whipped victoriously back and forth behind him, clearing Flinx's
legs by barely a centimeter.

  “The ssoftsskin hass proven himsself a worthy adverssary! On behalf of our family and our ancesstorss I have generoussly decided to grant him leniency. You will oblige me in thiss matter and upon hiss releasse make no covert movess to sstrike him.” Once again putting his jaws close to the human's face, he whispered a second time. “I musst assk you to releasse my right arm lesst my declaration ssmell of facetioussness.” Flinx promptly complied, and then allowed Eiipul to “help” the vanquished human to his feet.

  “Most impressive is your fighting, most impressive is your character, honored nye,” Flinx murmured humbly. “I owe you my life.”

  Though expressively challenged due to their stiff, scaly epidermis, the looks on the faces of Eiipul's offspring as they gazed admiringly at their victorious parent were probably worth a good quarter-jump in family status—at least in their young eyes. Significantly, Kiijeem's expression was considerably less rapt—but he said nothing.

  It was always useful, Flinx knew, when one could, to demonstrate to any AAnn, even a youth, the efficacy of diplomacy over force.

  “There sstill remainss the matter of what to do with you, ssoftsskin.” Eiipul studied his tall visitor contemplatively. The anger and antagonism that had been simmering within him previously had largely faded away, Flinx perceived. The AAnn's emotions were more under control—and reflective of his continuing confusion. “I am sstill inclined to deliver you to the proper authoritiess, except …”

  “Except …,” Flinx prompted him, adding a second-degree genuflection of appreciation.

  “Thiss inssane sstory of yourss. I know of many ssentientss, AAnn and otherwisse, who found themsselvess driven to death by their delussionss. But you sstrike me as rational as well as intelligent. Your tale and your actionss sseem to me to be sstrongly at oddss with one another. You believe in thiss delussion of yourss sso deeply that you are willing to die to further propound it?”

  “Such is the choice that life and circumstance have forced upon me,” Flinx replied coolly.

  His host hissed softly. “If you are lying, or delussional as are sso many of your kind, or if thiss iss ssome kind of conjurer trick, be assured that I will learn the truth. And then I will ssee to it that you are dealt with more harsshly than otherwisse would be the casse.” His tone hardened. “Your unprecedented affiliation with a Tier family notwithsstanding.”

  Flinx had anticipated and prepared for just such a response. “It won't matter. If what I will try to show you fails to eventuate—and there is never any guarantee of success—then you can have me taken away and killed and the galaxy and everything in it goes to hell anyway. So in the long run, it doesn't matter.”

  His host gestured third-degree accord. “All fatalisstss are at peace with themsselvess until the knife beginss to cut. Then reality takess over.” He shifted his stance, relaxing his legs. “What do I have to do to participate in thiss ‘experience’ you proposse to sshare? Nothing requiring elaborate or extenssive planning, I hope. I disslike the wassting of time. Not even a ssoftsskin sshould be late for hiss own demisse.”

  “That's something I'm always prepared for,” Flinx admitted, “though I admit to being receptive to regular postponements.” Looking around, he searched for something soft. A hard species that had evolved in a tough environment, the AAnn did not go in for plush pillows and thick rugs. Settling on a small depression filled with ornamental colored sand, he walked over and lay down. It was as unyielding as the rest of the floor, but at least it was warmed from beneath. Responding to a gesture from her master, Pip darted away from where she had continued to confront the three young nye and rejoined him, settling down to coil herself contentedly on his chest. He regretted that he was about to unsettle her emotions. Hopefully they would become no less agitated than his own.

  Realizing that he was as comfortable as he was going to get, he looked up and over at the increasingly bemused Lord Eiipul IX.

  “We are ready to begin, noble nye. Or at least to try. Do you have anything that will help you sleep?”

  It was always the same. It was always slightly different. Different and the same. It was always horrifying.

  When he regained consciousness he was drenched in sweat. At least, he reflected, by letting himself drift and be drawn mentally outward toward the distant reaches of the universe while he was naked he did not come back to reality encased in cold, wet clothes. Forcing open his eyes, he immediately looked downward in the direction of the slight weight on his chest. Eyes open, Pip was struggling to uncoil her body and unfurl her wings. She did not sweat, but he could sense her distress. As a more primitive empath, she shared his feelings without knowing exactly what he felt. This time she seemed in an unusual rush to regain her strength.

  Possibly it had something to do with the weapons Eiipul IXb and IXc were aiming in his direction.

  Kiijeem stood behind them. At the moment, his own emotions were badly muddled. While looking askance at his friends, he was eyeing the rapidly reviving Flinx with the usual expectation and uncertainty—but this time there was also an unmistakable trace of the innate aggression he had radiated when he had first encountered the visiting human.

  Something was wrong, Flinx realized. Pip was perceiving it as well, which explained why she was fighting harder than usual to recover from the experience. She was in a hurry to get airborne so that she could protect him. Reaching down, he put a hand around her body, pinning her wings against her sides as he exuded feelings of tranquility and reassurance. She relaxed a little, but not completely. It was evident she did not altogether buy the contrived calm he was struggling to impart.

  He was not sure that he did, either.

  “What have you done to our patriarch?” Eiipul IXc hissed threateningly as she kept the pistol she was holding pointed directly at the center of Flinx's torso.

  “Nothing more or less than what I said that I would try to do.” In the absence of specifics he spoke as calmly as he could while facing the weapon. “Which was to attempt to provide incontrovertible proof of my story. I think that I did that. I felt that I did that, though in the state of stasis that is entered it's difficult to be certain of anything.”

  “Be certain of thiss,” her brother growled at him. “If the damage perssisstss, the next sstate you enter will be that of extinction.”

  As soon as he felt enough of his strength had returned, Flinx sat up. “Damage?” A coldness began to creep up his spine. What had he done? “I don't understand.”

  Without lowering their weapons, the twins stepped back. “Look upon the Lord Eiipul, and you will.” The pistol jerked in the brother's hand. “Try to flee and you will die, along with your gaudy pet.”

  Still holding tightly to Pip, Flinx locked eyes with the minidrag before depositing her gently onto his right shoulder. Under the circumstances he was having a difficult time sustaining the emotional illusion that all was well and everything was fine. Her gaze kept darting from him to the Eiipul offspring and back again. He struggled to contain her with his feelings even as his own were seriously conflicted.

  Lord Eiipul IX lay on a horizontal resting platform nearby, where his offspring and Kiijeem had moved him. The nye was lying on his right side (AAnn did not lie on their backs), eyes wide open, nictating membranes retracted, staring into the distance. Bending toward him under the watchful, seething glares of his progeny, Flinx waved one hand slowly back and forth over his host's face. The eyes did not respond. The AAnn was breathing slowly and steadily, but he did not react to any of Flinx's physical stimuli nor indicate in any other fashion that he was still alive. Though no expert on AAnn physiology, Flinx felt fairly confident in voicing a diagnosis.

  “Lord Eiipul is in shock.”

  “Truly,” growled his daughter. “Tell uss ssomething we know not. Tell uss how to bring him back.”

  “I'd try some energizing medications,” Flinx told her. “Anything organic and benign that's likely to give the nervous system a jolt and …”


  “We have already done thuss.” With his free hand Eiipul IXb pointed to a nearby spiral table. A small air injection device rested on the polished stone. Glancing at the attached opaque clip, Flinx had no way of telling whether it was full or empty. “Hiss body twitchess in ressponsse to sspecific sstimulantss, but otherwisse there iss no reaction. Sshouting ssimilarly provokess no ressponsse.”

  His mind, Flinx mused. It was his mind. The AAnn's consciousness was adrift. Eiipul had not come back all the way. Clarity had survived the shared experience of a glancing contact with the Great Evil without suffering any permanent physical or mental side effects. Had he misjudged the mature nye's capacity for coping with the same kind of contact? Was the makeup of the AAnn psyche so different that it could not survive a similar encounter?

  Once more he looked down at the immobilized nye. Flinx felt he was rapidly running out of time. Traditionally impatient by nature, the younger Eiipuls would not wait forever before shooting to cripple him and then calling for assistance.

  If he could not reach the benumbed AAnn physically or through eye contact, Flinx realized, then he would have to try to do so emotively.

  Closing his eyes, he reached out. He had done this under pressure before. The present circumstances were no more or less threatening than a number of similar situations he had been forced to cope with.

  At first he encountered nothing. Emotionally Lord Eiipul was a blank, an empty vessel devoid of feeling. Probing the alien emotive void, Flinx grew more and more apprehensive. If the paralysis extended this deeply, Lord Eiipul might truly be gone, his mind locked in permanent retreat.

  There—something. A hint of awareness, cowering in the distance, enveloped in fear and anxiety. He reached toward it, projecting the most serene and soothing feelings he could muster. What he touched was not human. It was thoroughly AAnn. Certain sentiments, however, or at least variants thereof, are common to the majority of sentient species.