Physically, Galographics looked like a duplicate of the Genealogy Archives, with one exception. This room was smaller and it contained more booths. Furthermore, the monitoring attendant here was much younger than the one he had encountered before.
"I'd like some help hunting up an obscure world."
The attendant drew herself up proudly. "Information retrieval eliminates obscurity. It is the natural building block of the Church, on which all other studies must be based. For without access to knowledge, how can one learn about learning?"
"Please," Flinx said, "no more than two maxims per speech." Behind him, Sylzenzuzex's mandibles clicked in barely stifled amusement.
The attendant's professional smile froze. "You can use the catalog spools, three aisles down." She pointed.
Flinx and Sylzenzuzex walked toward the indicated row. "The world I want to check on is called Ulru- Ujurr."
"Ujurr," she echoed in symbospeech, the odd word sounding more natural when spoken in her consonant- oriented voice. Flinx watched her closely, but she gave no sign that she had ever heard the name before.
He couldn't immediately decide whether that was good or bad.
"Is that symbospeech spelling?" she asked after he made a show of blocking it out. "The tape doesn't say for sure. There may be variables. Let's try phonetic first, though." The attendant appeared to hesitate slightly, wondering if perhaps a Church tape would be so unspecific. But there were variable spellings of far better known worlds, she reminded herself.
They walked down an aisle lined by the vast, nearly featureless walls of the information storage banks. In those metal ramparts, Flinx knew, were stored trillions of bits of information on every known world within and without the Commonwealth.
These records probably had an annex buried somewhere beneath them in the true labyrinth of the Depot complex, an annex closed to casual inspection. For that reason, if Flinx's globular quarry happened to be of some secretive, restricted nature, it might not appear in the spools here.
He was somewhat surprised when they found what appeared to be the proper compartment. Sylzenzuzex pressed a switch nearby and the metal wall responded with oral confirmation.
"It could be a different Ulru-Ujurr," she warned him, as she studied the labels and minute inscriptions identifying the spool case. "But there don't appear to be any cross-references to another world with a similar name."
"Let's try it," Flinx instructed impatiently.
She inserted a card key into the appropriate slot. It was a far simpler device than the one used to operate the multilevel lifts. They were rewarded with a tiny spool of thread-thin tape. She squinted at it-though that was merely an impression Flinx interpreted by her movements, rather than by a physical gesture, since she had no eyelids to narrow.
"It's so hard to tell, but it seems as if there's very little on this tape," she finally told him. "Sometimes, though, you can find a spool that looks like it contains two hundred words and in actuality it holds two mil- lion. They could make this system more efficient."
Flinx marveled at anyone who could call such a system inefficient. But, he reminded himself, even the lowliest members of the Church hierarchy were constantly exhorted to find ways to improve the organization. Spiritual methodology, they called it.
Only a few of the booths were occupied. They found one at the end of a row, isolated from the other users.
Flinx took the chair provided for humans, while Sylzenzuzex folded herself into the narrow bench designed for thranx and inserted the fragment of sealed plastic into the playback receptor. Then she activated the viewscreen, using the same procedure Namoto had employed earlier. The screen lit up immediately.
Displayed was the expected statistical profile: Ulru-Ujurr was approximately twenty percent larger than Terra or Hivehom, though its composition produced a gravity only minimally stronger. Its atmosphere was breathable and uncomplicated and it contained plenty of water. There were extensive ice caps at both poles. Further indicative of the planet's cool climate was the extent of apparent glaciation. It was a mountainous world, its temperate zone boasting intemperate weather, and primarily ice north of that.
"It's not a true iceworld," Flinx commented, "but it's cooler than many which are suited to humanx habitation." He examined the extensive list closely, then frowned. "A little cold weather shouldn't discourage all humanx settlement on an otherwise favorable world, but I don't see any indication of even a scientific monitoring post. Every inhabitable world has at least that. Moth supports a good-sized population, and there are humanx settlements of size on far less hospitable planets. I don't understand, Sylzenzuzex."
His companion was all but quivering with imagined cold. " 'Cool,' he calls it. 'Habitable.' For you humans, perhaps, Flinx. For a thranx it's a frozen hell."
"I admit it's far from your conception of the ideal." He turned back to the readout. "Apparently there's both animal and vegetable native life, but no descriptions or details. I can see how the terrain would restrict such studies, but not eliminate them totally the way they seem to have been." He was growing more and more puzzled.
"There aren't any significant deposits of heavy metals or radioactives."
In short, although people could live on Ulru- Ujurr-there just wasn't anything to entice them there. The planet lay on the fringe of the Commonwealth, barely within its spatial borders, and it was comparatively distant from the nearest settled world. Not an attractive place to settle.
But dammit, there ought to be some sort of outpost!
That was the end of the tape except for one barely legible addendum: THOSE DESIROUS OF OBTAINING ADDITIONAL STATISTICAL DETAIL CONSULT APPENDIX 4325 SECTION BMQ....
"I presume you're as tired of reading statistics as I am," Sylzenzuzex said as she set the tiny tape to rewind. "As far as your parents are concerned, this world certainly looks like a dead end. What do you wish to see now?"
Trying to keep his tone casual, he said, "Let's go ahead and finish with this one first."
"But that means digging through the sub-indexes," she protested. "Surely you ..."
"Let's make sure of this," he interrupted patiently.
She made a thranx sound indicating moderate resignation coupled with overtones of amusement, but she didn't argue further.
After nearly an hour of cross-checking they hunted down Appendix 4325, Section BMQ; obtained the necessary sub-index, and prodded the somehow reluctant machine to produce the requested tape sub-sub- heading. Someone, Flinx thought, had gone to a lot of trouble to conceal this particular bit of information without being obvious about it.
This time his suspicions were confirmed. Slipped into the viewer and activated, the screen displayed glaring red letters which read: ULRU-UJURR ... HABITABLE WORLD ... THIS PLANET AND SYSTEM ARE UNDER EDICT....
The date of the first and only survey of the planet was listed, together with the date on which it was placed under Church Edict by the Grand Council.
That was the end of it, as far as Sylzenzuzex was concerned. "You've reached the Hive wall. I can't imagine what led you to think your parents could be on this world. You must have made a mistake, Flinx. That world is Under Edict. That means that nothing and no one is permitted to travel within shuttle distance of its surface. There will be at least one automated peaceforcer in orbit around it, programmed to intercept challenge anything that tries to reach the planet. Anyone ignoring the Edict ... well," she paused significantly, "you can't outrun or outmaneuver a peace-forcer." Her eyes glistened. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because I'm going there. To Ulru-Ujarr," he added, at her expression of disbelief.
"I retract my first evaluation," she said sharply. "You are more than strange, Flinx-or perhaps your mind is becoming unhinged by the traumatic events of today."
"My mind's hinges are fastened down and working smoothly, thanks. You want to hear something really absurd?"
She eyed him warily. "I'm not sure."
"I think all these suicides
of important people that Jiwe is so worried about have something to do with the Janus jewel."
"The Janus - I've heard of them, but how ...?"
He rushed on recklessly. "I saw powder that might have come from a disintegrated jewel on the body of the infiltrator."
"I thought that was from destroyed crystal syringe- darts."
"It could also have been from a whole jewel."
"So what?"
"So . . . I don't know what; but I just have a feeling everything ties together somehow: the jewels, the suicides, this world-and the AAnn."
She looked at him somberly. "If you feel so strongly about this, then for the Hive's sake why did you not tell the Counselor?"
"Because ... because ..." his thoughts slowed, ran into that ever-present warning wall, "I can't, that's all. Besides, who'd listen to a crazy theory like that when it comes from .. ." then he smiled suddenly, "an unhinged youngster like myself."
"I don't think you're that young," she countered, pointedly ignoring the comment about him being unhinged. "Then why tell anyone ... why tell me?"
"I ... wanted another opinion, to see if my theory sounded as crazy out loud as it does in my head."
Her mandibles clicked nervously. "All right, I think it sounds crazy. Now can we forget all this and go on to the next world your research turned up?"
"My research didn't turn up any other worlds. It didn't turn up Ulru-Ujurr, either."
She looked exasperated. "Then where did you find the name?"
"In the ..." He barely caught himself. He had almost confessed that he'd plucked it out of the mind of the dying AAnn. "I can't tell you that, either."
"How am I supposed to help you, Flinx, if you refuse to let me?"
"By coming along with me,"
She stood there dumbstruck.
"I need someone who can override a peaceforcer command. You're a padre-elect in Security or you wouldn't have been monitoring a station as sensitive as the surface lift corridor. You could do it." He stared anxiously at her.
"You had better go talk to Counselor Jiwe," she told him, speaking very slowly. "Even assuming I could do such a thing, I would never consider challenging a Church Edict."
"Listen," Flinx said quickly, "a higher-ranking Church member wouldn't consider it, and would be followed, if only for protective reasons. Not even a Commonwealth military craft would. But you're not so high up in the hierarchy that it would cause alarm if you suddenly deviated from your planned activities. I'm also betting that you've something of your uncle in you, and he's the most brilliant individual I ever met."
Sylzenzuzex was looking around with the expression of one who suddenly awakens to find herself in a locked room with a starving meat-eater.
"I am not hearing any of this," she muttered frantically. "I am not. It ... it's blasphemous, and ... idiotic." Never taking her eyes off him, she started to slide from the bench. "How did I get involved with you, anyway?"
"Please don't scream," Flinx admonished her gently. "As to your question, if you'll think a minute ... I saved your life...."
Chapter Eight
She paused, all four running limbs cocked beneath her in preparation for a quick sprint toward the monitor's desk. Flinx's words rolled about in her head.
"Yes," she finally admitted, "you saved my life. I'd forgotten, for a moment."
"Then by the Hive, the Mother-Queen and the miracle of metamorphosis," he intoned solemnly, "I now call that debt due."
She tried to sound amused, but he could see she was shaken. "That's a funny oath. Is it designed to tease children?"
For emphasis he repeated it again ... this time in High Thranx. It was difficult and he stumbled over the clicks and hard glottal stops.
"So you know it," she murmured, slumping visibly, then glancing at the monitor sitting quietly at the distant desk. Flinx knew that a single shout could bring a multitude of armed personnel-and angry questions. He was gambling everything that she wouldn't, that the ancient and powerful life-debt sworn on that high oath would restrain her.
It did. She looked at him pleadingly. "I'm barely adult, Flinx. I still have all my wingcases and I shed my adolescent chiton only a year ago. I've never been wed. I don't want to die, Flinx, for your unexplained obsession. I love my studies and the Church and my potential future. Don't shame me before my family and my Clan. Don't ... make me do this.
"I'd like to help you ... truly I would. You've apparently had more than your share of unhappiness and indifference. But please try to understand-"
"I haven't got time to understand," he snapped, shutting her up before she weakened his resolve. He had to get to Ulru-Ujurr, if there was even a chance Challis had fled there. "If I'd taken time to understand, I'd be dead half a dozen times already. I call on that oath for you to pay your debt to me."
"I agree then," she replied in a dull voice. "I must. You drown me in your dream." And she added some- thing indicative of hopelessness mixed with contempt.
For a brief moment, for a second, he was ready to tell her to disappear, to leave the room, to run away. The moment passed. He needed her.
If he went directly to someone like Jiwe and told him he had to go to Ulni-Ujurr the Counselor would smile and shrug his shoulders. If he told him about his theory concerning the Janus jewels, Jiwe would demand details, reasons, source of suspicions. That would mean owning up to his talents, something he simply couldn't do.
The Church, for all its goodwill and good works, was still a massive bureaucracy. It would put its own concerns above his. "Sure," they would tell him, "we'll help you find your real parents. But first ..."
That "first" could last forever, he knew, or at least until a bored Challis had destroyed the last link between Flinx and his heritage. Nor was he convinced they would help him even if he did reveal himself fully - he wasn't certain the Church's adaptability extended to breaking its own Edict.
He was going to Ulru-Ujurr, no matter what, though he couldn't tell anyone the real reason why. Not even the silently waiting Sylzenzuzex, who stared at the floor with the look of the living dead. Surely, though, she would be fully reinstated when it became known she had accompanied him under duress.
Surely...
After Sylzenzuzex had applied for and, as a matter of course, received her accumulated leave of several Terran weeks, they took an atmospheric shuttle back to Brisbane Shuttleport. To the questioning machine she had explained that it was time for her to visit her parents on Hivehom. Throughout it all, Flinx never wavered in his determination to take her with him. This couldn't be helped. She was frigidly polite in response to his questions. By mutual agreement they did not engage in casual small talk.
They were held up in Brisbane for over a week while Flinx concluded the complex arrangements required for renting a small, autopiloted KK-drive ship. Private vessels capable of interstellar travel were not commonly available.
Malaika had been very generous, but the three-day rental fee exhausted the remainder of Flinx's credit account. That didn't trouble him, since he was already guilty of kidnaping. It would hardly matter when the ship broker sent collectors to stalk him after three days had elapsed without his return. He would worry about repaying the astronomical debt he was about to incur another time. If he returned, he reminded himself. The Church had not slapped an Edict on Ulru-Ujurr out of bored perversity. There was a reason ... and there was always Challis.
Sylzenzuzex knew less about astrogation than he did. If the broker had lied to him about the little ship's self-sufficiency, they would never get to Ulru-Ujurr- or anywhere else.
As a matter of fact, she explained, her chosen field was archeology. Security was only her student specialty. Hivehom's early primitive insectoid societies had always fascinated her. She had dreamed of studying them for the rest of her life, once she graduated and returned home as a full padre-something that would never happen now, she reminded him bitterly.
He ignored her. He had to, or his resolve would crack. Once more he wondered
at why an apparently innocuous, inhabitable planet like Ulru-Ujurr should have been placed Under Edict. The information they had studied in Galographics, the long lists of cold statistics that had led him in short order to abduction and fraud and debt, neglected to elaborate on that small matter.
At least one worry was quickly allayed when the powerful little vessel made the supralight jump that took them out of immediate pursuit range. According to simplified readouts, the ship was proceeding at maximum cruising speed on course for the coordinates Flinx had provided it.
Flinx wasn't really concerned that he was worse than broke once again. In a way he was almost relieved. He had spent his entire life in an impecunious state. The abrupt resumption of that familiar condition was like exchanging an expensive dress suit for a favorite pair of old, worn work pants.
The time they spent traveling wasn't wasted. Flinx constantly consulted and questioned the ship's computer, improving his rudimentary knowledge of navigation and ship operation while staying a respectful distance from the autopilot override. He was not ashamed of his ignorance. All KK-drive ships were essentially computer-run. Stellar distances and velocities were far too overwhelming for simple organic minds to manipulate. The humanx crew present on the large KK freightliners was there merely to serve the needs of passengers and cargo, and as a precaution. They constituted the flexible fail-safe, ready to take over in the event the ship's machine mind malfunctioned.
It was fortunate that he was so interested in the ship, because Sylzenzuzex proved to be anything but a lively companion. She preferred instead to remain in her cabin, emerging only to pick up her meals from the autochef. Gradually, however, even the patience of one accustomed to underground living began to wear thin, and she spent more and more time on the falsely luxurious bridge of the ship. Still, when she deigned to say anything at all, her conversation was confined to monosyllabic comments of utter despondency.
Such willing submission to reality grated against Flinx's nature even more than her silence. "I don't understand you, Sylzenzazex. You're like a person attending her own wake. I told you I'll confirm that I kidnaped yon against your will. Surely everyone will have to admit you're blameless for anything that happens?"
Orphan Star Page 13
