Flinx Transcendent (39 page)

Tse-Mallory nodded briskly. “The light of half a dozen suns—gone, just like that. No plasma flare-up, no ensuing nova, no punctuating outburst of X-rays or gamma radiation. Nothing. One by one these stars have simply vanished. Swallowed up, as an immeasurable quantity of additional matter has been, by what Flinx has so eloquently yet simply described to us as the Great Evil.”

Truzenzuzex leaned impatiently toward the tall young human in their midst. Having known him for a long time, the Eint knew he could ask him anything he wished, directly and without precondition or preamble.

“What more can you say of the threat, Flinx? Have you perceived it recently? What news can you impart, what hope can you deliver?”

“Very little of either of those, I'm afraid,” he mumbled unhappily.

Seated next to him Clarity reached over, took his right hand in hers, and squeezed gently. It was such a simple, uncomplicated gesture. What it communicated silently was exactly what he had missed more than anything else during his nearly two years of journeying. Human warmth. Openness. Unquestioning love.

Truzenzuzex did not take Flinx's hand, but he could gesture first-degree sympathy and understanding. “Expecting little, I am neither surprised nor disappointed by your response. At our end, nothing has changed for us or for those few others who know the secret. Despite much pondering and theorizing by minds better than Bran's and mine, the massive disguised weapons platform of the extinct Tar-Aiym that you encountered and interacted with still presents the only means and method any of us consider worth pursuing as a possible defense against the overwhelming extragalactic threat that approaches.”

Tse-Mallory nodded agreement. “Not only is nothing humanx-derived perceived as even remotely capable of affecting something so vast as the Great Evil, we cannot even envision or imagine anything capable of doing so.”

In the ensuing silence Truzenzuzex proceeded to voice what he and Tse-Mallory had so far been reluctant to ask. “Are Bran and I correct in assuming from the time and manner of your return to Nur that you have been unable to reestablish contact with the greatly sought-after artifact in question?”

The philosoph's assumption relieved Flinx of having to confirm what was plainly an anticipated disappointment. “I'm afraid so. But,” he added quickly to forestall their deepening disillusionment, “it's not like I spent all these past months looking for it, either.”

Tse-Mallory's gaze narrowed. “Then what have you been doing—boy.”

Flinx flinched, but otherwise accepted the scold without comment. From a commonsensical standpoint Tse-Mallory was entirely correct in voicing the censure. Flinx would have been the last one in the room to claim that during the past year or so he had behaved in a wholly rational manner.

“I needed—I had to find out some things.” He looked for support to Clarity, to whom he had already confessed the reasons behind his
wandering. “About myself, about intelligence in general, about worthiness.”

“Dear me,” Truzenzuzex murmured, “and is it now safe to believe that with the fate of the galaxy and all sentience at stake you have finally managed to satisfy your personal requirements?”

“I think so.” Flinx was too abashed to respond directly to the philosoph's sarcasm. Though in the past months he had dealt efficiently with murderous humans and belligerent AAnn, with hostile environments and would-be assassins, in the presence of the two senior scientists who had been his mentors since his early youth he felt like little more than a wayward child.

“You ‘think’ so,
kijaa!kt?”
Truzenzuzex harrumphed. “To think that the fate of everything should rest on the shoulders of one so young, self-centered, and unstable!”

Clarity had heard all she could stand. Locking her arm in Flinx's and leaning protectively against him she glared at the philosoph, unintimidated by either his considerable accomplishments or fearsome reputation.

“That's enough! What about everything Flinx has gone through on behalf of this lunatic quest you sent him on? What about the recurring headaches that sometimes nearly kill him? He doesn't know what a normal life is and he hasn't had any peace since he was a child—and even then he sometimes had to steal just to eat.” Her gaze swung back and forth between the two scientists. “You're both famous, successful, honored representatives of your respective species. You have the freedom to go wherever you want, when you want.” As Scrap adjusted his position on her shoulder she pressed close against the man beside her.

“Everyone wants something from Flinx: private individuals, companies, the great families, government agencies. Or else they want to kill him. Or dissect him.” She looked up at the young man who had already lived several lifetimes. “All he wants is to be left alone—and maybe to be happy, just simply
happy
, for a little while before he dies. You can't, any of you, imagine the pressures he is under every moment of every day.”

Peering down at Clarity, Flinx swallowed hard. He had been right to come back here. He was not so sure he had been right ever to leave.

For a while it was quiet in the underground room. When Truzenzuzex finally spoke again his symbospeech was shorn of the usual abrasive clicks. But his words were underscored with as much resolve as ever.

“It's not that Bran and I don't feel for our young friend, Clarity-bearer, or that we fail to understand and sympathize with his challenging physical and mental condition. But the threat we face is far, far greater than any individual or any individual concerns. Everything—everything including personal happiness—must perforce be sacrificed in the attempt, however futile it may seem, to deal with this oncoming danger. Otherwise we abrogate our responsibility as sentient beings, to civilization and to the generations yet to come.” Downy antennae dipped in her direction.

“Do you think that I am ‘happy’ having to devote to this peril what little time remains to me? Considerably less time, may I point out, than remains to you or to Flinx. Do you think I do not ponder what may become of my own scattered progeny if it is not overcome?” Glistening compound eyes regarded each of them in turn. “We are all of us here among the few who are even aware of the monstrousness that is sweeping toward our home, our Commonwealth. And among that few, we know that we have only one realistic possibility of confronting it. Without Flinx's intimate involvement, we have not even that.” His golden gaze eyed her unblinkingly.

“In light of all that, my dear, I am afraid that individual concerns, no matter how poignant or involving or intense, must necessarily be set aside.”

This time the ensuing silence lasted even longer than the one that had preceded it. For a change it was Flinx who spoke up first.

“Uh, actually, I have an idea.”

Tse-Mallory took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and deliberately.

“I'll take that as encouraging. An idea about what, Flinx?”

“How to find the artifact—the Tar-Aiym weapons platform.”

The older man frowned at him. “You've said from the time you left Nur months ago that you thought it would be impossible for you to track it in the vastness of the Blight. That you would have to embark on a random search pattern fueled by hope. It was the best any of us could expect from you.”

Flinx reached up to stroke the back of Pip's neck. “And that's still the case. But while I don't think
I
can locate the artifact, it has occurred to me that there's another who might be able to do so.”

The two scientists exchanged a glance. “You are the only individual who has been able to establish any kind of contact with the device,” Truzenzuzex reminded him.

“No,” Flinx insisted, “there's another.”

“Who?” a startled Tse-Mallory demanded to know.

Flinx's lips creased in a thin smile. “It's not a who—it's a ‘what.’”

“The boy plays mind games,” Truzenzuzex muttered. “Explain yourself.”

Flinx let his gaze shift from philosoph to soldier. “The original Tar-Aiym Krang. The one we found so long ago on the world called Booster, in the Blight. Remember, I activated it once.”

“Indeed you did,” admitted Tse-Mallory.

Flinx warmed to his proposal. “I'd be astounded if you two neglected to record the coordinates. If we can find Booster once more, and if I can make contact with the machine again, perhaps I can get across the need to contact the much bigger weapons platform. Maybe what it takes to locate one alien machine is another alien machine. All we need to get from the Krang is the platform's position and course.”

Truzenzuzex looked thoughtful. “Use one weapon to locate the other. Why shouldn't weapons converse? A better prospect, certainly, than simply striking out blindly through empty space.” He eyed his companion. “Bran?”

“I wholeheartedly concur.” Deep blue eyes regarded Flinx. “Your ship has been adequate for all your personal searching. I presume it can make the journey to Booster.”

Flinx's smile widened. “To this day I still don't know all of the
Teacher's
capabilities. The Ul … its builders endowed it with all kinds of abilities I'm still learning about. I don't doubt for a minute that it can make the trip to Booster.”

“Excuse me,” Sylzenzuzex put in, “but what is this ‘Krang’ you keep talking about?”

“An ancient artifact of the long-extinct race known as the Tar-Aiym,” her Eighth informed her. “A legendary device that was rumored to be a great weapon—or a musical instrument.” His antennae quivered
as he remembered. “To our astonishment and edification, it turned out to be both.” He gestured in Flinx's direction. “Our inimitable young friend here, who was considerably less mature at the time, possesses the only mind we know of that is capable of activating the alien mechanism. If all goes well we'll be seeing it again soon enough.”

“Whatever happens, however this turns out, I don't care as long as we're together.” Clarity abruptly let go of Flinx's arm. “You're not thinking of going off without me
again
, are you?”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “The idea had occurred to me.”

Her expression tightened. “Then you won't have to worry about the Order of Null, because I'll kill you first!”

He held the mock-serious expression as long as he could before releasing it as laughter and sweeping her up in his arms. “Do you really think I'd leave you behind, after nearly losing you to those crazies twice? Of course you're coming with me.”

Tse-Mallory nodded approvingly. “Tru and I will of course also accompany you, as was the intention prior to the assault at the shuttleport that resulted in the serious injuries suffered by Clarity. Earlier, you told Tru and me to be ready to leave Nur ‘immediately’ We are ready now. How soon can your ship be prepared for departure, Flinx?”

Still holding Clarity, he regarded his mentor. “I think we can leave tomorrow morning. Any additional provisioning or repair that needs to be carried out can be done at another world lying along the same approximate vector—safely away from local assassins.”

“Then it is settled,” Truzenzuzex declared with satisfaction.

“Not quite settled,
syrrlnn
.”

Everyone's attention immediately shifted to Sylzenzuzex. She regarded them evenly. “I'm coming along also, you know.”

Her Eighth turned to her. “No, we do not know that, shining sweet. It is no pleasure jaunt, no tourist outing, this dive into the dead worlds of the Blight. I already anticipate enough things to worry about in the course of such a passage.”

“Rest assured I will not be among them.” Arching high above her abdomen, her ovipositors vibrated tautly. “I am not the youthful padre-elect of years past, esteemed Eighth. I am a fully hardened operative working in Church Security. While my skills and abilities may not begin to approach yours, and differ greatly, they can only supplement
and assist in this effort.” Gleaming in the overhead light, her great compound eyes turned to Flinx. “Besides, the decision is not yours.”

Unexpectedly finding himself caught between relations, Flinx hesitated. In the resulting stillness it was Clarity who spoke up.

“Myself, I don't see any reason why Syl shouldn't come with us. She's already shown herself to be a practiced truhand with a weapon. On a less functional note, I personally would like to have another female along for company.”

Relieved to have been given an out, Flinx shrugged. “There's certainly enough room on the
Teacher
.” He eyed the philosoph. “If anything were to happen to you, Tru, having another thranx along would be …”

“I can take care of myself, thank you,” his insectoid mentor responded stiffly. “Still, the vessel and the responsibility are yours. If you feel comfortable having yet another aboard, I will not object further. My personal feelings aside, Sylzenzuzex is no longer a sub-adult.”

Reacting to this concession, Sylzenzuzex executed a gesture Flinx knew well. Her senior Eighth did not respond either verbally or with a gesticulation of his own. But Flinx knew that, at hearts, Truzenzuzex was not displeased. Quite the contrary. Though the crusty old philosoph would not admit to it, he was glad that his “niece” was coming with them.

Flinx knew this because his Talent allowed him to perceive it.

As with everything else on the paradise world of Nur, the exterior of the detention center located on the outskirts of a far commercial exurb was designed to soothe the eye and reassure the mind of any passersby. Likewise, the interior was calculated to pacify and ease. Rather than to extract revenge, the intent was to heal and repair those with antisocial tendencies who had been committed to the facility's care. Penal care on New Riviera differed considerably from that practiced on, say, Visaria.

Notwithstanding its dedication to the rehabilitation of its inmates, the detention center was a modern and secure facility designed to keep those assigned to it from interacting with the public outside the bounds of its smartly landscaped exterior. The unassuming guards carried weapons that would immobilize without killing. Though it presented
many of the aspects and qualities of a convalescent retreat, the center's principal purpose remained as one with its earliest predecessor, the gaol that still stood on the south bank of an ancient Terran river called the Thames.