For Love of Mother-Not

by Foster, Alan Dean;

  Flinx saw a vast argent spine shot through with flecks of gold that shone in the diffused sunlight. It looked like a huge pipe emerging from beneath the waves, and it turned the sunlight to rainbows. Then it was gone, not endless as he first believed. Another wave shook the catamaran as the monster submerged once again. Flinx pulled himself up to where he could peer over the edge of the cabin compartment.

  The mudders had vanished completely, sucked down in a single gulp by whatever had materialized from the depths of the lake. The skimmer itself just missed being dragged down by that great gulf of a mouth. It hovered above the disturbed section of lake where its companion craft had been only a moment ago. Then someone on the skimmer apparently made a decision, for it rose another twenty meters toward the clouds and accelerated rapidly northward.

  "They're leaving," Flinx shouted. "We have to get back to the lodge, get the skimmer you mentioned, and hurry after them before--"

  "We have to get out of here alive first." Lauren followed her announcement with another curse as her hands tore at the wheel. The silver mountain lifted from the lake just starboard of the jet boat. Flinx was gifted with a long, uncomfortable view down a throat wide enough to swallow several mudders intact. Or a jet boat. The jaws slammed shut, sending a heavy spray crashing over the gunwales. The monster was so close Flinx could smell its horrid breath. Then it was sinking back into the waters boiling behind the catamaran.

  Something moved on his shoulder, and he reached up to grasp at the muscular form that was uncoiling. "No, Pipl Easy... this one's too big even for you." The snake struggled for a moment before relaxing. It bobbed and ducked nervously, however, sensing a threat not only to its master but to itself. Yet it responded to the pressure of Flinx's restraining fingers and held its position.

  For a third time, the penestral struck, snapping in frustration at the spot where the jet boat had been only seconds earlier. Thanks to the tracker, which had first warned Lauren of the nightmare's approach, they were able to avoid its upward rush.

  "This won't do," she murmured. "It'll keep working us until I make a mistake. Then it'll take us the way it took the poor souls still stuck on those mudders." She studied the tracker intently. "It's circling now. Trying to cut us off from shallow water and the shore. We'll let it think we're headed that way. Then we'll reverse back into deep water."

  "Why?"

  She ignored the question. "You didn't care for it when I had to shove you away from the wheel a few minutes ago, did you? Here, it's all yours again." She reached down and half pulled, half guided him back into the pilot's chair. "That's enough." She threw the wheel over, and the boat seemed to spin on its axis. Flinx grabbed for the wheel.

  "It'll follow us straight now instead of trying to ambush us from below and will try to hit us from astern. Keep us headed out into the lake and let me know when it's tangent to our square." She indicated the red dot on the tracking screen that was closing on them from behind.

  "But shouldn't we--?"

  She wasn't listening to him as she made her way back tothe pair of gantry-like structures protruding from the rear of the boat. She took a seat behind one, stretched it out so the arm hung free over the water, then checked controls.

  "When I tell you," she shouted back at him over the roar of the engine and the spray, "go hard a-port. That's left."

  "I remember," he snapped back at her. His attention was locked to the tracker. "It's getting awfully close."

  "Good." She positioned herself carefully in the seat, touched a switch. Flexible braces snapped shut across her waist, hips, shoulders and legs, pinning her to the seat in a striped cocoon.

  _"Awfully_ close," Flinx reiterated.

  "Not ready yet," she murmured. "A fisherman has to bepatient." The water astern began to bubble, a disturbance more widespread than a mere boat engine could produce. "Now!" she shouted.

  Flinx wrenched the wheel to his left. Simultaneously, the surface of the lake exploded behind them. With both hands on the wheel, there was nothing Flinx could do except cry out as Pip left its perch and launched itself into the air. A muffled explosion sounded from the stern, and a moment later its echo reached him as the harpoon struck the penestral just beneath one of the winglike fins that shielded its gills.

  The soaring monster displaced the lake where the jet boat had been before Flinx had sent it screaming into a tight turn. A distant _crump_ reached the surface as the harpoon's delayed charge went off inside the guts of the penestral. Polyline spewed from a drum inside the ship's hull, a gel coating eliminating dangerous heat buildup where line rubbed the deck.

  "Cut the engine," came the command from astern.

  "But then we won't have any--" he started to protest

  "Do it," she ordered.Flinx sighed. He was not a good swimmer. He flickedhe accelerator until their speed dropped to nothing. The jet engine sank to an idle. Instantly, the catamaran began moving in reverse. The twin hulls were pointed aft as well as forward, and the boat moved neatly through the water as it was towed backward. The retreating polyline slowed from a blur to where Flinx could count space markings as it slid off the boat. Meanwhile, Lauren had reloaded the harpoon gun and was watching the surface carefully.

  She called back to him. "Where's the penestral?"

  "Still moving ahead of us, but I think it's slowing.":

  "That's to be expected. Keep your hands on the accelerator and the wheel."

  "It's still slowing," he told her. "Slowing, slowing--I can't see it anymore. I think it's under the boat!"

  "Go!" she yelled, but at that point he didn't need to be told what to do; he had already jammed the accelerator control forward. The jet boat roared, shot out across the lake. An instant later a geyser erupted bebind them as the penestral tried to swallow the sky. Flinx heard the harpoon gun discharge a second time.

  This time, the penestral was struck just behind one crystal-like eye the size of a telescope mirror. It collapsed back into the water like a tridee scene running in reverse, sending up huge waves over which the retreating catamaran rode with ease. The waves were matched in frequency if not intensity by the palpitations of Flinx's stomach.

  This time, the fish didn't sink back into the depths. It stayed on the surface, thrashing convulsively.

  "Bring us back around," Lauren directed Flinx. She was sweating profusely as she reloaded the harpoon cannon for the third time. Only the autoloading equipment made it possible for one person to manipulate the heavy metal shaft and its explosive charge.

  This harpoon was slightly smaller and thinner than the two that had preceded it. As the boat swung back toward the penestral, Flinx heard the gun go off again. Several minutes passed. The penestral stopped fighting and began to sink.

  Lauren touched another button. There was a hum as a compressor located inside the catamaran started up, pumping air through the plastic line that ran to the hollow shaft of the last harpoon. She unstrapped herself from the chair and began to oversee the reeling in of the colossal catch. "Air'll keep it afloat for days," she said idly, exchanging seats with Flinx once again. "Too big for darts, this one."

  "Why bother with it?" Flinx stared as the silver-sided mountain expanded and drew alongside the catamaran.

  "You might be right--it's not much of a fish. Bet it doesn't run more than fifteen meters." Flinx gaped at her. "But there are hungry people in Kaslin and the other towns south of the lake, and the penestral's a good food fish--lean and not fatty. They'll make good use of it. What they don't eat they'll process for resale further south. The credit will go to the lodge.

  "Besides, we have guests staying with us who come up to Patra regularly, twice a year for many years, and who in all that time have never seen anything bigger than a five-meter minnow. Your first time and you've participated in a catch. You should feel proud."

  "I didn't catch it," he corrected her quickly. "You did."

  "Sorry, modesty's not permitted on this lake. Catching. even a penestral's a cooperative effort. Dodging is just as i
mportant as firing the gun. Otherwise, _we_ end up on _his_ trophy wall." She jabbed a thumb in the direction of the inflated bulk now secured to the side of the catamaran.

  A weight settled gently onto Flinx's left shoulder. 'I hoped you hadn't gone off to try and attack it," he said to the minidrag as it slipped multiple coils around his arm. "It's good to know you have _some_ instinct for self-preservation." The flying snake stared quizzically back at him, then closed its eyes and relaxed.

  Flinx inspected what he could see of the penestral while the jet boat headed back toward the southern shore. "Those people ia the mudders, they didn't stand a chance." "Never knew what hit them," Lauren agreed. "I'm sure they weren't carrying any kind of tracking equipment. No reason for it. If our tracker had been out of order, we'd have joined the mudders in the penestral's belly."

  A quick death at least, Flinx thought. Death was a frequent visitor to the unwary in the Drallarian marketplace, so he was no stranger to it. Thoughts of death reminded him of Mother Mastiff. Would his persistence result in her captors' deciding she wasn't worth the trouble anymore? What might they have in mind for her, now that her presence had caused the death of a number of them? Surely, he decided, they wouldn't kill her out of hand.

  They had gone to so much trouble already.

  But the thought made him worry even more.

  Exhilarated by the fight, Lauren's voice was slightly elevated and hurried. She had reason to be short of wind, Flinx thought. "One of these days, Flinx, after we've finished with this business, you'll have to come back up here. I'll take you over to Lake Hozingar or Utuhuku. Now those are respectable-sized lakes and home to some decent-sized fish. Not like poor little Patra, here. At Hozingar, you can see the real meaning of the name The-Blue-That-Blinded."

  Flinx regarded the immense carcass slung alongside the jet boat in light of her words. "I know there are bigger lakes than this one, but I didn't know they held bigger penestrals."

  "Oh, the penestral's a midrange predator," she told him conversationally. "On Hozingar you don't go fishing for penestral. You fish for oboweir."

  "What," Flinx asked, "is an oboweir?"

  "A fish that feeds regularly on penestrala."

  "Oh," he said quietly, trying to stretch his Imagination to handle the picture her words had conjured up.

  Quite a crowd was waiting to greet them as they tied up at the lodge pier. Lauren had moored the inflated penestral to a buoy nearby. The carcass drew too much water to be brought right inshore.

  Flinx slipped through the _oohing_ and _ahhing_ guests, leaving Lauren to handle the questions. Several of her employees fought their way to her and added questions of their own. Eventually, the crowd began to break up, some to return to their rooms, others to remain to gawk at the fish bobbing slowly on the surface.

  Flinx had collapsed gratefully into a chair on the porch that encircled the main building. "How much do you want for the use of the skimmer and a tracker?" he asked Lauren when she was able to join him. "Ill-need you to show me how to use it, of course."

  She frowned at him. "I'm not sure I follow you, Flmx."

  "I told you, I'm going after them. You've made it possible for me to do that, and I'm very grateful to you."

  She looked thoughtful. "Management will scream when they find out I've taken out the skimmer for personal use. They're a lot more expensive than a jet boat or mudder. We'll have to be careful with it."

  He still wasn't listening to her, his mind full of plans for pursuing the Mdnappers. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you for this, Lauren." "Don't worry about it. The lodge's share of profit from the disposal of the penestral ought to defray all the operating expenses. Come on, get yourself and your snake out of that chair. We have to gather supplies. The skimmer's usually used for making quick runs between here and Attock. That's where we pick up our guests. We'll need to stock some food, of course, and I want to make sure the engine is fully charged. And if I don't take ten minutes to comb my hair out, I'm going to die." She tugged at the tangles of black ringlets that the action on the lake had produced.

  "Just a minute." This time it was Flinx who put out the restraining hand as he bounded out of the chair. "I think I've misunderstood. You don't mean you're coming with me?"

  "You don't know how to use the tracking equipment," she pointed out.

  "I can figure it out," he assured her confidently. "It didn't take me long to figure out how to handle the boat, did it?"

  "You don't know the country."

  "I'm not interested in the country," he responded. "I'm not going on a sightseeing trip. That's what the tracker's for, isn't it? Just loan the stuff to me. I'll pay you back somehow. Let me just have the tracker and a charge for my mudder, if you're worried about the skimmer." "You're forgetting about my wervils. Besides, you can't track a skimmer with a mudder. What if you hit a can-you?"

  "Surely you're not giving up your work here," he said, trying another tack, "just so you can seek revenge for the deaths of a couple of pets?"

  "I told you, wervils are an endangered species on Moth. And I also told you how I feel about animals."

  "I know," he protested, "but that still doesn't--"

  He broke off his protest as she reached out to ruffle his hair. "You know, you remind me of another wervil I cared for once, though his fur wasn't quite as bright as yours. Near enough, though." Then she went on more seriously. "Flinx, I don't like these people, whoever they are. I don't like them because of what they've done to you, and I don't like them because of what they've done to me. Because of that, I'm going to help you as well as myself. Because I'd be going out after them whether you were hereor not, for the sake of Sennar and Soba.

  "Don't try to deny that you couldn't use a little help and don't give me any of that archaic nonsense about your not wanting me along because I'm a woman."

  "Oh, don't worry," he told her crisply. "The last thing I'd try to do would be to inflict any archaic nonsense on you."

  That caused her to hesitate momentarily, uncertain whether he was joking or not. "Anyway," she added, "if I can't go, not that you can stop me, then you couldn't go, either. Because I'm the only one who has access to the skimmer."

  It was not hard for Flinx to give in. "I haven't got time to argue with you."

  "And also the sense not to, I suspect. But you're right about the time. The tracker should pick up the gel underneath their skimmer right away, but let's not play our luck to the limit. I don't know what kind of skimmer they were using. I've never seen the like before, so I've no idea if it's faster than usual. We go together, then?"

  "Together. On two conditions, Lauren."

  Again, she found herself frowning at him. Just when she thought she could predict his actions, he would do something to surprise her again. "Say them, anyway."

  "First, that Pip continues to tolerate you." He rubbed the back of the flying snake's head affectionately. It rose delightedly against the pressure. "You see, I have certain feelings toward animals myself."

  "And the other condition?" she inquired.

  "If you ever touch my hair like that again, you'd betterbe prepared for me to kick your lovely backside all the way to the Pole. Old ladies have been doing that to me ever since I can remember, and I've had my fill of it!"

  She grinned at him. "It's a deal, then. I'm glad your snake isn't as touchy as you are. Let's go. I have to leave a message for my superiors in case they call in and want to know not only where their skimmer is but their lodge manager as well."

  When she informed the assistant manager of the lodge, he was very upset. "But what do I tell Kilkenny if he calls from Attoka? What if he has guests to send up?"

  "We're not expecting anyone for another week. You know that, Sal. Tell him anything you want." She was arranging items in a small sack as she spoke. "No, tell him I've gone to the aid of a traveler in distress across the Sake. That's an acceptable excuse in any circumstance."

  The assistant looked past her to where Flinx stood waiting impatient
ly, chucking Pip under its jaw and staring in the direction of the lake.

  "He doesn't look like he's very distressed to me."

  "His distress is well hidden," Lauren informed him, "which is more than I can say for you, Sal. I'm surprised at you. We'll be back real soon."

  "Uh-huh. It's just that I'm not a very good liar, Lauren. You know that."

  "Do the best you can." She patted his cheek affectionately. "And I'm not lying. He really is in trouble."

  "But the _skimmer,_ Lauren."

  "You still have the lodge mudders and the boats. Short of a major catastrophe of some kind, I can see no reason why you'd need the skimmer. It's really only here to be used in case of emergency. To my mind"--she gestured toward Flinx--"this is an emergency."

  The assistant kicked at the dirt. "It's your neck." "Yes, it's my neck."

  "Suppose they ask which way you went?"

  "Tell them I've headed--" A cough interrupted her. She looked back at Flinx and nodded once. "Just say that I've had to go across Patra."

  "But which way across?"

  "Across the lake. Sal."

  "Oh. Okay, I understand. You've got your reasons for doing this, I guess."

  "I guess I do. And if I'm wrong, well, you always wanted to be manager here, anyway, Sal."

  "Now hold on a minute, Lauren. I never said--"

  "Do the best you can for me," she gently admonished him. "This means something to me."

  "You _really_ expect to be back soon?"

  "Depends on how things go. See you, Sal."

  "Take care of yourself, Lauren." He watched as she turned to rejoin the strange youth, then shrugged and started back up the steps into the lodge.

  As Lauren had said, it was her neck.

  It didn't take long for the skimmer to be checked out. Flinx climbed aboard and admired the utilitarian vehicle. For almost the first time since he left Drallar, he would be traveling totally clear of such persistent obstacles as mist-shrouded boulders and towering trees. The machine's body was made of black resin. It was large enough to accommodate a dozen passengers and crew. In addition to the standard emergency stores, Lauren provisioned it with additional food and medical supplies. They also took along the dart rifle and several clips and a portable sounding tracker.