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Authors: Alan Dean Foster

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BOOK: Flinx Transcendent
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“And what,
tssaak
, do
you
want out of all thiss?” the Emperor of all the AAnn asked him sagely.

“The same thing I've wanted all my life,” Flinx told him. “To be left alone.”

“Yet your conviction that ssomehow you are vital to any attempt to counter thiss oncoming peril meanss that you cannot be left alone. But at the ssame time you cannot assk for all the help you would wissh becausse thosse whosse assisstance you might sseek would be interessted in other detailss of your ‘sstate of affairss,’ as you put it.” Navvur W gestured second-degree empathy. “What a dreadful disscord musst be your life!”

Flinx felt obliged to protest. “There are good moments.”

It sounded weak even to him.

“You do not ssay ‘good dayss.’” Navvur had not been chosen supreme leader of his kind because he lacked insight. “There iss much that our resspective sspeciess do not have in common, but I believe an appreciation of irony iss sshared by both. From what you tell me, it would appear that you are ssafer here, at thiss moment, ssurrounded by ssworn enemiess of your government, than you would be on many of your own worldss.” Teeth that were still sharp flashed in jaws that could still bite. “You may be the only ssoftsskin within hundredss of parssecss who iss ssafe from being sslain at the firsst opportunity.”

Flinx was not startled by the Emperor's observation, but neither had
he expected it. “I don't feel safe anywhere. It may be my destiny to never feel safe anywhere.”

One of the shaken nobles who had suffered and survived Flinx's shared experience spoke up. “Doess it pleasse you to know that you have made many of
uss
feel far less ssafe?”

Flinx looked over at her. “I don't like frightening people. That was not my intent.” He looked at Lord Eiipul, then back at the Emperor. “You forced my hand.”

“To our benefit, or to our detriment.” A pensive Navvur gestured second-degree disquiet. “I wonder.”

“I only share the truth,” Flinx mumbled unhappily.

“Truly,” hissed several thoughtful onlookers.

“So—what is your decision, honored Navvur? What are you going to do with me?” Standing alone, Flinx waited.

In addition to a single set of round eyes, a sizable number of reptilian ones were focused on Navvur W. The Emperor appeared to be meditating. But it was only for show. He had already decided how to deal with this exceptionally curious softskin who laid claim to a Tier name, hissed eloquently the true tongue, and had demonstrated the ability to foresee an apocalypse—or merely frighten. Aware of his audience, he gathered his Imperial self.

“Either you are an honesst mutation of a mosst unique ssort—or you are the cleveresst conjurer in the sspiral arm. One thing I have decided you are not iss a sspy. You talk far too much to be a deviouss agent of your or any other government. You have sshared or sshammed a wonder. My heart tellss me it doess not exisst. My head—my head fearss that it may.

“Only becausse of that ssmall and implaussible possibility I have decided to sspare your life.”

Animated hissing rose from the circle of AAnn that surrounded the softskin and the Emperor. Some of it voiced accord, some hostility, some was simply supportive of whatever choice their Emperor chose to make. Among the congregation of attentive nye, Lord Eiipul IX looked relieved most of all.

“Thank you, venerable Navvur.” Flinx's gratitude was heartfelt. “If it turns out that I'm able to do something, it will preserve the AAnn as unreservedly as it does my own kind.”

The Emperor spoke without looking at the tall human. “I have the feeling thosse of uss currently alive will never know whether you ssucceed or fail.”

“I will find a way to let you know,” Flinx was surprised to hear himself replying.

Navvur looked up anew. “You truly believe the reality of what you have sshown, don't you? If it iss sso, then you will need all the help you can get.” A hand gestured at the closely packed crowd of nobles and advisers. “I fear that we cannot assisst you directly in your effort. But it iss perhapss possible to improve the climate in which you apply yoursself.

“As ssomeone of your wide-ranging knowledge iss doubtless aware, though no active sstate of warfare pressently exisstss between the Empire and the Commonwealth, with sso many pointss of tangency and expanssion, minor unofficial dissputess frequently arisse.”

Flinx gestured third-degree comprehension, even though he knew that the “minor unofficial disputes” the Emperor was referring to were usually the result of AAnn probing and aggression as the minions of the Empire worked to continuously test the limits of Commonwealth tolerance.

“I will composse and have issued a command,” Navvur continued, “ordering that all ssuch dissputess are to be rigoroussly avoided for”—he considered briefly—“a period of one Commonwealth year from the date of your departure from Blasussarr. Thiss will enssure that any exertionss on your behalf that might take place in border regionss are not interrupted or thwarted by one of the petty missundersstandingss that sseem to plague the relationsship between your government and an Empire that sseeks only peace.”

Sure it does
, Flinx mused while prudently withholding comment. Anything he could say was likely to be counterproductive, and this was neither the time nor place to discuss the complex issue of ongoing hostility between their respective species. It appeared that his humble efforts to achieve little more than safe passage off Blasusarr for himself and Pip had unintentionally accomplished rather more; what amounted to a year's worth of interstellar peace between the Empire and the Commonwealth. It was not the first time his labors had produced an unexpected result.

Irony, he reflected, was the spice of circumstance.

“Thiss directive will not be publicized.” Turning a slow circle, Navvur gazed warningly at his subjects, meeting the eyes of as many as he possibly could. “No word of it iss to pass beyond The Eye. Were it to become widely known, sspecific ssoftsskinss and particular nye might try to take advantage of it.” When he completed his formal pirouette he was once again facing Flinx.

“I can pledge you no more than a year of peace between our peopless. Any attempt to extend it for a longer period of time would be to deny our very sselvess—and place even my possition in jeopardy.” He gestured second-degree resignation. “Thosse not privy to the experience you sshared would not undersstand.”

“I know,” Flinx told him. “I realize the difficulty.” The majority of humans and virtually no thranx would not have empathized with the Emperor's position—but Flinx did. Here was another chameleon like himself, he mused. An individual for whom change was a constant, who could never relax if he expected to survive. In addition to belonging to separate sentient species, however, they were clearly marked by one other key difference.

He doubted the Emperor Navvur W spent part of every day worrying about his sanity.

Over the course of the following ten days spent waiting for the return from space-plus of the reconfigured
Teacher
, he saw and experienced more of AAnn society and culture than specialized xenologists who had spent years studying and trying to understand the belligerent, dangerous, expansionist civilization that had long been in conflict with the Commonwealth. This despite the fact that his expanded circle of hosts did their best to keep his presence in Krrassin a secret from the local population. While there was no potential problem in allowing resident AAnn a glimpse of a visiting human, paradoxically the Emperor and his inner circle were cognizant of Flinx's desire to keep his presence on Blasusarr hidden from his own kind. So to prevent word from reaching the staff of the one official, accredited Commonwealth mission in the capital, Flinx's excursions were conducted in secrecy and with him wearing his simsuit.

Those among the Imperial advisers with an inclination to engineering
who had a chance to examine him close-up were fascinated by the intricate camouflaging ensemble. Flinx readily identified with their interest, having himself on prior occasions been forced to deal with AAnn who had disguised themselves as humans. His mastery of their language and the revelation that he was an officially adopted member of a recognized Tier only increased his curiosity value. Though he continued to move about Krrassin and its vicinity undercover, he found that he had become something of a minor celebrity among those assigned to escort him.

All the more reason, he felt, to take his leave as soon as possible. But with no means of contacting the
Teacher
while it was making its way back to the Blasusarrian system from deep space, he could only wait, be thankful he was still alive, and do his best to satisfy the curiosity of his hosts while hiding his true identity, abilities, and resources from as many as possible.

As promised, several Blasusarrian ten-days passed before the communit built into his suit signaled for attention. It was not necessary for him to check the signal's origin. Only one offworld individual knew his location, and it was not organic.

“I have successfully entered orbit in the new guise of a private research vessel from Orakkum.” Though anxiety was not an emotion programmed into the
Teacher's
manifold speech patterns, Flinx chose to believe that he could hear a smidgen of concern in the message. “Please acknowledge if you have survived.”

“Survived and thrived, I think—much to my own surprise.”

“I understand survived,” the ship responded promptly, “and am joyed to receive the information. In the context of the circumstances that mandated my hasty departure, I do not comprehend ‘thrived.’”

Alone in the comfortable and well-secured first-floor room that had been provided by the government for the duration of his stay, Flinx was able to speak freely. He had discovered that he enjoyed lying on his back in the basin of heated sand that was a favored means of relaxation among the AAnn. It reminded him of the picture-perfect beaches on Nur.

“You know how sometimes I enter into seemingly simple situations and they blow up out of all proportion?” he began.

“Not you, Flinx. I have never observed that happening to you.”

The ship's exterior might have been reconfigured during its hiatus in space-plus in order to fool Planetary Security, Flinx mused, but its integrated sarcasm remained unchanged.

“Several incidents of significance have occurred in your absence.” Head turned slightly to the right, he addressed the communit pickup inside the head of the suit, neatly shucked nearby. “The bad thing is that many more AAnn have become aware of my presence here. The good thing is that I have been able to turn that to my advantage.”

“I cannot conceive,” the
Teacher
responded, “of how your presence on Blasusarr becoming known to additional AAnn could in any way become advantageous.”

“A few months ago, neither could I,” he replied. “I'll explain it all when I'm back on board.” Sitting up on the sand, Flinx let the heated grains trickle through his bare toes.

“When should I send down a shuttle?”

Flinx looked around his chamber. Normally spare and utilitarian, it was filled with gifts from AAnn acquaintances and admirers. Dominating the display was a glistening, vitreous sculpture that was a present from Lord Eiipul IX himself and his extended family. Unexpectedly, Flinx found his eyes growing moist. Chraluuc of the Ssaiinn should have been there with him.

“That won't be necessary. Provide your coordinates. It would be impolite not to offer my hosts the opportunity to supply the necessary extra-atmospheric transportation.”

“Your ‘hosts’ … ?” The shipmind contemplated possible interpretations of this seemingly contradictory designation. “You are not confined or under duress and are speaking freely?”

“Analyze my speech and decide for yourself.”

As a matter of security, the
Teacher
had already done so. “It is clear that a most remarkable turn of events has taken place in my absence. Not the first time something like it has occurred.”

Flinx shrugged, though there was no one present to see it. “It's how I was raised, ship. To adapt to difficult circumstances.”

“I suppose I should not be surprised. I will provide the coordinates. When should I expect your arrival?”

“As soon as my hosts can arrange it. I'll alert you.” Unexpectedly,
he heard himself asking, “Everything is all right with you? Have you been seeing to the maintenance of the plants in the lounge?”

“My physical condition is excellent. Your decorative vegetation appears to be flourishing. Some of the oldest required trimming. In contrast, certain more recent arrivals exhibit what appears to be a kind of internal biological restraint that keeps them from overgrowing. No doubt a xenobotanist would find such cytological self-discipline of more than passing interest.”

“Maybe I'll do some research myself once I'm back aboard,” Flinx commented absently.

Rising from the sand, he stood motionless while blowers gently removed adhering granules from his back and lower body. Whereas the virtually moisture-free particles slid neatly off the slick scales of the AAnn, the therapeutic grains tended to stick to his sweaty mammalian epidermis. Bending over, he brushed at his legs to hasten the process. Nearby, Pip's head emerged from where she had contentedly buried herself in the depths of the heated basin.

“Get out of there. We're leaving,” he murmured.

Leaving for work, he told himself. Leaving for destiny, whatever it now had in store for him. His immediate future, at least, was determined. That in itself was something of a change for him. Once back on board the
Teacher
he knew he could look forward to weeks and probably months of continuing to search for a single alien mechanism that could by now be anywhere in the Blight—or even beyond it. Not a needle in a haystack, but an atom in the needle in the haystack. Yet again the prospect of locating the wandering Tar-Aiym weapons platform struck him as hopeless. But he had promised his friends and mentors that he would try.

As he prepared to use the local communicator to contact his hosts and inform them of his intent to depart, it occurred to him that the search might not seem quite so hopeless if he had help.

BOOK: Flinx Transcendent
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