Flinx in Flux (7 page)

“How about beaming a message to the nearest receiver world and sending it along by courier?”

“I don’t know. They might be watching the message depot here as well. And it’s easy to intercept a courier packet. Then I wouldn’t know if they received my message or not. Don’t underestimate these people, Flinx. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re screening everything that goes through Alaspinport. They knew enough to smuggle me in. They’ll make it hard to smuggle anything out.”

“Sounds to me like you don’t have a lot of options.”

“No.” Her voice fell. “No, I guess I don’t.” She stared at him. “You said you’d help me. I asked you for suggestions. I’m asking you again. Maybe we could bribe someone to let us skip departure procedures.”

“Not enough of a crowd to get lost in.” He coughed silently into a closed fist. “There is one other possibility. I could take you back.”

She made a face. “I don’t follow you. Are you talking about something like me traveling along as your wife under an assumed name? Maybe in some kind of disguise?”

“Not exactly. I mean I could literally take you back. See, I have my own ship.”

A long silence followed. He found himself fidgeting uncomfortably under her stare. “You have your own ship? You mean that you come from a ship in orbit and are waiting to rejoin the rest of the crew? That’s what you mean, isn’t it? An unscheduled freighter or something like that?”

He was shaking his head. “No. I mean that I have my own ship, registered in my name. I’m the owner. It’s called the
Teacher.”

“You’re teasing me, making a joke. It isn’t funny, Flinx. Not after what I’ve been through.”

“It’s no joke. The
Teacher’
s not very big, but it’s more than spacious enough for my needs. One more human being won’t crowd my space.”

She gaped at him. “You aren’t kidding, are you?” She slumped in the chair next to the still unrestored bathroom-door holo. “A nineteen-year-old b—a nineteen-year-old who owns his own ship. By himself? It’s not sublight?”

“Oh, no,” he said quickly. “It’ll go anywhere in the Commonwealth you want. Full KK-drive, very narrow projection field, custom dish lining, the full complement of automatics. I just tell it where we want to go, and she goes there.”

“Who are you, Flinx, that at your age you can own an interstellar vessel? I’ve heard that the heads of the great trading families have their own private crafts, and that others have access to special company ships. I know that the government maintains ships for diplomatic service, and that the Counselors First of the United Church have small fast vessels for their needs. Who are you to treat equally with them? The inheritor of one of the Great Trading Houses?”

Mother Mastiff would have found that amusing, Flinx knew. “Hardly. I’ve never had much interest in commerce in the conventional sense.” I used to relieve the wealthy of their excess without their knowledge, but that hardly qualifies as trade, he thought.

“Then what are you? What is it that you do?”

He considered the question carefully, wanting to give her an answer she could believe without stretching the truth overmuch.

“I guess you could say I’m a student doing advanced work.”

“Studying what?”

“Mostly myself and my immediate environment.”

“And what is your ’immediate environment’?”

“For someone whose life was just saved, you ask a lot of questions. Wherever I happen to be at the moment, I guess. Look,” he told her with some firmness, “I’ve offered to take you anywhere you want to go, to help you get safely off this world and away from these mysterious crazies you keep talking about. Isn’t that enough?”

“More than enough.”

There was no reason for him to go on, but something within him compelled him to answer the rest of her question. “If you’re so interested in how I came by ownership of the
Teacher,
it was a gift.”

“Some
gift! For what even the smallest class of interstellar vessels cost, I could live in comfort for the rest of my life. So could you.”

“Living in comfort doesn’t especially interest me,” he told her honestly. “Traveling, finding things out, meeting interesting people, that interests me a great deal. I did a favor once for some friends, and their gift to me in return was the
Teacher.”

“Whatever you say.” Clearly she did not believe a word he had told her but was sensible enough not to probe further. “Your personal life’s none of my business.”

“You don’t have to accept if it makes you nervous.”

He was surprised how badly he was hoping she would accept. True, she was a gengineer, a member of a profession he had come to regard with both awe and fear. But she was also attractive. No, he corrected himself, that was not quite right. What she was, was extraordinarily beautiful. That was not a quality often found in tandem with great intelligence.

Put simply, he did not want to see the last of her. Not even if much of her story was a carefully crafted fabrication designed solely to gain his help. If that was the case, she had certainly achieved her aim.

“Of course I accept. What else am I going to do? I’m ready to go right now, this minute. It’s not like I have to pack. Nor do you strike me as the sort of man who carries around a lot of excess baggage.”

Rather than probe possible double meanings, he replied simply, “You’re right; I don’t. But we’re not leaving just yet.”

“Why not?” She was obviously puzzled.

“Because after ferrying you halfway across the Ingre jungle only to wake up and find you with a knife in your hand and self-confessed intentions of slitting my throat, I need one decent night’s rest in a real bed.”

She had the grace to blush. “That won’t happen again. I told you, I was confused.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s been a long couple of weeks for me, and now I have to consider you and your troubles. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning, when it’s less hot. Remember, we should be rested. You’ve been sleeping for days. I haven’t.

“Besides, if these people are trying to track you, delaying here will cause them to spread their search wider and wider afield. Be that much simpler for us to avoid detection when we leave.”

“You know best,” she said reluctantly. “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask considering everything you’ve done for me already, but my stomach feels like the inside of Cascade Cavern.”

“Where’s that?”

“On the world where I’m working.”

“I’m not surprised. You’ve been surviving on intravenous and ampoules since I found you.”

“Any kind of solid food would be wonderful.”

He considered. “I suppose your system’s ready. I guess since I’m going to take you an unknown number of parsecs, I can afford to spring for a couple of meals as well.”

“Oh, I’ll see that you’re paid,” she said quickly. “When I’m returned, my company will pay you for the trip and your trouble.”

“No need. It’s been a long time since I’ve bought supper for a beautiful woman.”

My God, he thought sharply. I actually said that, didn’t I!

The softening of her expression was proof that he had indeed.

“Just don’t overdo it. Otherwise it’ll kick back on you, and you’ll be sick for the whole journey.”

“Don’t worry about me. I have an iron gut. I can eat anything. Or doesn’t that square with your image of the beautiful woman?” She was disappointed when he did not comment. “You say you’re a student, but that still doesn’t tell me what you’re about.”

He checked the hallway carefully, Pip riding well back on his shoulders, Scrap clinging with his tail to Clarity’s sidetail. Only when he was sure it was quiet and empty did he proceed in the direction of the small hotel dining room.

“That’s all,” he told her. “Just a student.”

“Null and void. You’re more than that. I’m no emotional telepath like your flying snakes, but I can tell there’s more to you than studying, Flinx. More than learning. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to. Damn; there I go, prying again.” He sensed rather than saw her smile. “You’ve got to excuse me. It’s the nature of my mind, not to mention my work. If you’re half the student you claim to be, you’ll understand my curiosity.”

Curiosity? Yes, he was curious. Also frustrated and angry and frightened and exhilarated. Wasn’t that true of any young human being?

As to what he was really about, no one, not even the people who had played God with his mind and body prior to his birth, knew the answer to that.

I am, he thought suddenly, a drum in a vacuum.

Chapter Five

There weren’t many people in the dining room, for which he was grateful. For the first time in memory he found himself enjoying a conversation that touched on nothing of importance. It was relaxing and reassuring. Wasting time, he found, could be fun as well as therapeutic.

He had heard of half sleep. It was the time called waking by others, when one was not quite conscious yet no longer asleep. He had never experienced it. One moment he was sound asleep, the next he was fully awake and alert. There was never anything like a transition stage as there seemed to be with other people. Whether it was a function of his peculiar mind or simply his street upbringing in the back alleys of Drallar, he had no way of knowing. He had never spoken to anyone else about it.

So it was that he found himself staring into near darkness with only the light of one of Alaspin’s two moons casting shadows through the room. Pip was lying close to his face, her tongue flicking rapidly against his left eye until it opened. Realizing that she had awakened him and knowing she would never do so arbitrarily, he was instantly alert.

He kept his eyes half-closed as he studied the room. A long low outline was visible beneath the covers on the other bed. He could hear Clarity’s soft breathing as she slept comfortably and undisturbed. What reason, then, for rousing him? Someone else might have risen then to have a look around. Flinx did not. Whatever had upset Pip would make itself known to him as well.

Only after a while did he see the shapes moving against the far wall. He, tilted his head imperceptibly until he could see the door. At first glance it appeared closed. Only by concentrating hard was he able to make out the light mask that had been unrolled in front of it. Half-open at least. Probably a noise mask behind it. The treated Mylar foam would give the impression to any casual onlooker inside or out that the door was still tightly shut.

He made out a pair but knew there might be more. On the floor, perhaps, or behind the screen. One advanced into the light from the window. Instead of trying to avoid the moonglow, the figure continued blithely on, taking on the slightly mottled color of the light and shadows, blending perfectly into floor and walls.

Chameleon suit, Flinx mused. Fits like a second skin and adapts instantly to any background and lighting. As a boy he had often wished for one. Not the kind of toy children normally wish for, but then, there had been little that was normal about his childhood.

The only things the chameleon suit could not camouflage were the slits for eyes, nose, and mouth. Three more sets of eerily disembodied organs were advancing along the other wall in the direction of the two beds. It would not be necessary to ask the wearers their intentions. One did not enter a private room in the middle of the night in a chameleon suit, breaking a lock in the process, to hand someone winnings from a lottery.

In such a situation a number of options were available. You could sit up and demand to know what the intruders wanted. You could pull a gun and start shooting, leaving questions for the police. Or you could do as Flinx did: lie quietly, imitating normal sleep breathing, watching out of half-closed eyes to see what the intruders planned to do next.

Three of them paused close together. They did not converse but merely exchanged looks, having obviously planned their moves well in advance. He dared not raise up or move his head for a better view.

The leader took something from a pocket attached to his right leg. It gleamed dully in the moonlight, a small canister with a flexible cuplike scoop over one end. Gas, Flinx thought automatically. Probably odorless, colorless, and fast-acting. Certainly not lethal. If the intruders had intended to kill the room’s occupants, they could easily have done so from the door.

The figure bent low and moved to the foot of Clarity’s bed, extending the canister before it. Abruptly it halted as something appeared between it and the sleeping woman. Something small, superfast, and hissing.

The intruders had rehearsed certain possibilities, but small superfast hissing creatures had evidently not been figured into their various scenarios. The sudden appearance of a small flying snake half a meter from one’s face would be enough to unsettle the most professional assassin.

The man let out a startled oath and stumbled backward. It was enough to stir Clarity. Rolling onto her back, she drew a hand across her forehead and moaned softly. Flinx saw her eyelids flutter.

One of the canister carrier’s companions spoke quickly and intently. “Stun the animal and then her. Now!”

The figure holding the canister raised it and moved a thumb over the recessed stud, which he never had time to press. From the tubular ridge tucked beneath its palate, the minidrag ejected less than half a cc of venom under high pressure. The poison hit the intruder in the eyes.

It was the end of pretense, of stealth, of careful movements in the dark. The man flung the canister across the room in a single convulsive movement as both hands went to his face. Screaming in pain as the highly caustic toxin ate at his eyes, he began ripping at his suit, tearing it from his head. Dissolving flesh bubbled audibly in the no longer quiet room.

Flinx dropped out of bed. Not on the far side, which was where anyone would expect him to go, but into the narrow cleft between his bed and Clarity’s. As he did so, a previously unobserved intruder rose from the other side of his bed and fired a needle beam, which penetrated pillow, mattress, and probably the floor beneath the bed where Flinx had been sleeping moments earlier. The beam was bright blue in the darkness, and it crackled nastily.

Realizing he had seared nothing but linen, the gunman started to rise for another shot at the bed’s unexpectedly absent occupant, only to find Pip hovering shockingly within wingbeat of his face. His eyes widened, visible even in the, bad light, and he jerked his head to one side.

To give him credit, he was fast. The venom struck him at the hairline instead of in the eyes.

The man Scrap had struck lay motionless on the floor, already dead. Minidrag neurotoxin killed in less than a minute once it entered the bloodstream, freezing the human nervous system as easily as one would stop an appliance by touching a button. The intruder Pip had hit had escaped this instant death. Instead, he had to deal with the poison that was entering his head via the auditory canal. He was staggering about and screaming as he fired wildly with the needler.

Pip and Scrap darted effortlessly about the room, avoiding clumsy shots and creating enormous chaos. There were more than three intruders, Flinx saw. More than five. That was when he noticed Clarity starting to sit up. Her mouth opened, and she inhaled preparatory to screaming.

Clamping his right hand over her mouth, he used his left to drag her out of the bed and down to the floor. She fell on top of him, which under different circumstances would have been delightful but at that moment did not intrigue him in the slightest.

“Quiet,” he whispered intensely as the battle raged around them. “Just shut up and be quiet. You’re in the safest place in the room right now.”

She stared dazedly into his eyes, then nodded slowly. He removed his hand from her face.

All around them was the noise of pounding feet, screams, the metallic hiss of needlers and the hum of hand beamers as the small army of kidnappers fired madly at the swooping, spitting minidrags. More often than not they ended up hitting one another.

It seemed to strike them simultaneously that they could do no good here, the way an invading army suddenly realizes it has been outflanked by the enemy it intended to crush. A silken rip sounded as one man plunged headfirst through the light mask and out into the hall. Brighter light from the hallway fixtures flooded into the room. He was followed by his companions. There were too many for Flinx to count in the confusion. They must have been infiltrating the room for thirty minutes or more before Pip woke him.

Some continued to howl as they tried to cope with the effects of minidrag toxin while they retreated. Other shouts were beginning to be heard, confused and angry voices. Doors opened onto other rooms, and tenants peered out to see what had disturbed their sleep. As they caught sight of the chameleon suits and the weapons, they retreated in haste.

“Pip?” Flinx straightened cautiously. “Pip, get back in here! That’s enough.”

It was several minutes before the big flying snake returned to the room, having pursued the last of the intruders to the bottom of the first flight of stairs. If Flinx had not called her back, she would have emptied her store of poison and might well have killed every last one of their assailants. Flinx did not want that. He planned flight, not mass murder. And in better light there was always the chance one of the attackers might get off an accurate shot.

Scrap hovered behind her, straying aloft while his mother landed at the foot of Flinx’s bed. She did not fold her wings and relax, Flinx noted, a suggestion of more trouble to come.

Only then did he notice how tightly Clarity was clinging to him. “It’s them,” she mumbled, the fear sharp-edged in her voice.

“Of course it was them. Unless there’s someone else who wants you badly enough to kill.” He looked toward the still open door. “There were a lot of them. More than I would’ve expected.”

She turned her face toward him. She was only centimeters away. “I told you how badly they want me.” He could feel her trembling against him. No false bravado now. She was scared out of her wits.

“It’s okay.” He wanted to be clever and fearless and nonchalant but only ended up being himself. “They’re gone.”

“The snakes,” she murmured. “The minidrags.” She glanced at Pip and her still hovering offspring. Scrap kept pivoting in midair, spoiling for more fight, searching for fresh enemies.

She stood, and he rose with her. Half a dozen bodies littered the floor. Several lay facedown. Others did not. The latter were not nice to look upon. Flying snake venom and nitric acid had similar effects on human flesh. No wonder people who were familiar with the minidrag’s abilities hurried to cross the street when they saw Flinx coming.

“Pip woke me,” he told her. “She sensed the threat. There was no need for me to move first. If I had, someone would’ve shot me. I always try to avoid that sort of thing because minidrags don’t have half-reactions. You can’t tell Pip just to wound somebody. There’s no such thing as a limited flying snake strike.”

They stepped over the body of a very large man who had fallen at the base of both beds. Clarity’s eyes rose from the body to the doorway.

“I wonder if they’ll come back?”

“Not immediately. Would you?”

She shook her head sharply. Scrap darted toward her, and she moved to duck. Flinx hastened to reassure her.

“Relax. I think you’ve made a friend, though there’s no way of telling if he acted to protect me, his mother, or you. Remember that he can tell what you’re feeling, so he knows you mean me no harm. As long as that’s true, there’s no reason for you to be afraid of him.”

“You told me,” she said, straightening. “You told me, but I still couldn’t imagine how lethal they are.”

“Many people know that they’re deadly. What they don’t realize is how fast and agile they are or how rapidly their toxin acts on the human body. Short of military-class armor or an atmosphere suit, there’s no protection against them.”

He could feel as well as see the tension in her when Scrap decided to settle anew on her shoulder. Though the young minidrag relaxed, he kept his wings unfurled and ready for instant flight.

“They must still be out there or Pip would be falling asleep after exerting herself like that. Must be trying to formulate some new strategy.”

Clarity turned nervously to the window. “Surely they won’t try to rush the room.”

“Not now they won’t. Pip and Scrap aside, too many guests saw them fleeing. But if they want you as badly as they seem to, they might not act rationally.

“When they first broke in, the intention was to gas you. Probably me as well, as a safety measure. If they really want you and they have access to a decent volume of the stuff, there’s nothing to keep them from gassing the whole hotel, particularly if it’s strictly morphic in nature.”

“The police?”

He grinned slightly. “Mimmisompo’s a small, open frontier town. If the hotel manager lives in, he might, just might, try contacting the cops. The hotel automatics will talk to police automatics. In either event, the police will take their time getting here. If the shooting was reported, they’ll take a lot more time in the hopes that all the shooters will be dead by the time they arrive.”

He was already at the dresser, throwing his few belongings into the simple carryall pack. “That means we have to move fast, because if your friends intend trying for you again, they’ll want to do so before any police happen to wake up and take an interest in the night’s goings-on.”

She took a hesitant step toward the door. “How can we leave if they’re still out there?”

“We have to leave because we can’t stay here. They came in when the door was locked. They won’t stop because a few people happened to see them leaving.” He took her by the hand. “They might be on their way back up already. We don’t want to hang around and find out.”

She let him pull her along. “Where are you going?” He did not reply.

Pip rose from Flinx’s shoulder to scan both ends of the hall, whizzing in seconds from one end to the other and back again to her master. Night-lights glowed from their recesses, giving everything an eery olive-hued cast.

Only one door stood ajar, framing a large older man with a protruding paunch. His whole head had been shaved down to the ears. Hair trailed a dozen centimeters over them, surrounding his head. The effect in the dim light was as if someone had yanked a fringed cap down below his eyes.

“Hey, what’s happening? What’s going on?” He leaned out into the hall as they approached. “Party’s too loud for me. I’m gonna look for another hotel.”

“Us, too,” Flinx told him, his eyes working the corridor.