Flinx Transcendent (49 page)

They spent a week thus. As a locale for what they half jokingly decided to call a pre-honeymoon it was decidedly out of the ordinary. Under such exotic conditions most men would have given little thought to anything but assuring their own continued survival. With the weight of all of civilization pressing down on his shoulders, that was not a luxury that had ever been afforded to Flinx.

Clarity knew him well enough to realize that as much as they were enjoying having some time together without anyone trying to shoot, paralyze, or blow them up, issues other than their relationship were preying on her beloved's mind. One morning after the usual rudimentary early meal she determined to press him on it.

She found him sitting just inside the cavernous entrance, staring out at the decomposing metropolis of the long-vanished Tar-Aiym, looking
lost in contemplation. In a way that was encouraging, since he so often looked simply lost.

Settling herself down beside him on the crest of the outermost arc of amphitheater resting slabs, she snuggled as close as she could. Outside the soaring portal, the ceaseless winds of Booster wept for a civilization long-gone and all but lost to memory.

“I'd ask if there was something on your mind,” she murmured, “except that the answer to that question is always the same.”

“What?” His surprised exclamation confirming her assertion, he glanced down at her and smiled. “You're what's on my mind, Clarity.”

She grinned. “I'd better be. But I know there's something else. Something more than the usual restlessness has been bothering you these past couple of days.”

He looked away. “It's just a thought.”

“Uh-huh,” she observed knowingly. “When you have ‘just a thought,’ there's no telling what's at stake. Empires could crumble. Worlds could stop spinning on their axes.”

He grunted softly. “Might just be gas.”

She shook her head. “Not this time, unless you're running a secret internal chemical analysis. I know you. You're too deep into whatever it is you're currently into.”

He waved a hand at the silent city that was slowly succumbing to the ferocity of the relentless wind. “I've been thinking. Tru and Bran hope to find something here that might point them to another means of combating the approaching menace. They've had no luck. They don't expect to have any luck, but it's in their nature to keep fighting, to not give up. I'm kind of the same way.”

She slipped her arm around his back. Mildly irritated, Scrap slithered across the back of her neck to take up residence on the opposite shoulder. “I know. I understand.”

“They're not likely to find anything,” he continued. “I'm thinking that the only thing that might have a chance of working against what's coming this way is a completely different approach. Another way of thinking. An entirely different take on physical reality.”

Drawing back, she frowned at him. “You think differently from most people, Flinx, but not entirely differently. Not enough to do what you say.”

“Not me.” Shifting around so that he was facing her, he said with a perfectly straight face, “Take out your gun.”

Her expression was something to behold.
“What?”

He repeated himself. “Take out your pistol and point it at me. Try to summon up some hate. Think of what you dislike about me. I know that you love me. The corollary to love is the ability to recognize the faults in whomever you love.”

She pursed her lips. “When I said that you think differently, I didn't mean to imply that you'd gone completely over the edge.”

He nodded. “I know what I'm doing—I hope. The only way this works is if there's a conviction that I'm on the verge of being killed.” He stared hard at her, his eyes imploring. “You have to make it seem real, Clarity. You have to make it
feel
real.”

She was shaking her head slowly. “Maybe if you'd explain to me what this is about, I might…”

“No!” The vehemence of his response startled her. It unnerved Pip as well and the flying snake took to the air. Concurrently, Scrap unfurled his wings and lifted clear of Clarity's shoulders. “The more you know, the less genuine the effort will feel. Get mad at me, Clarity! You've had several opportunities to live a satisfying, normal life. I've taken all that away from you. I've exposed you to constant danger. Truly wicked people have tormented you, have tried to kill you. That's what you have to look forward to if you stay with me!” He leaned toward her and she drew back without thinking.

“Draw your gun!” Reaching up with a forefinger he tapped himself forcefully between his eyes. “Aim it here, right here! Here's where the source of all your troubles lie. Here's where the source of all
my
troubles lie! Do it, Clarity! Put an end to it! Save us both!”

The pistol was in her hand, though how it got there she was not sure. What was wrong with him? Had he gone completely mad? Had the failure with the weapons platform driven him over the edge, unleashed something deep within him that was previously unseen and un-revealed? Though her fingers trembled slightly she had full control of the weapon. In a gesture of pure reflex, one finger was on the trigger. Looking on from above, Scrap and Pip whirled about in utter confusion. Confronted by the conflicting emotions being projected by their respective masters, each was unable to decide how to react or what to do next.

“Shoot, Clarity! Finish this! Put an end to all your troubles! SHOOT, YOU STUPID BITCH!” His fist came forward, aiming for her face.

Wild-eyed, she pulled back on the trigger.

Several things happened at once. An unbelievably deep rumbling echoed in her ears. To her left, a hole appeared in the air; a perfectly smooth, circular black disk. Something warm, heavy, and rife with musk slammed into her. Stunned, she felt herself tumbling. At the same time she heard a frantic Flinx yelling, “Don't hurt her, don't hurt her! It's okay, it's a sham! Pip, Scrap—stay back!” On his feet, he was shouting and crying and waving his arms all at the same time.

Her vision blurred and her thoughts rattled from the force of the impact she had just absorbed, she retained consciousness just long enough to make out a shape standing over her. Enormous yellow eyes glared into her own. A muscular seven-fingered hand adorned with glowing rings was reaching down.

As she blacked out, it struck her that she had seen that same daunting alien visage somewhere before….

“Clarity. Clarity!”

She mumbled something incoherent. As consciousness slowly returned and she once more became aware of her surroundings, she realized that Flinx was holding her up with one arm beneath her back. Above him, Pip and Scrap continued to circle in confusion, utterly bewildered by what had just transpired below them. Tears were running down Flinx's cheeks. He looked thoroughly, completely, absolutely miserable.

Good, she thought.

The first thing she did when she regained full control of her senses was to smack him across the face as hard as she could.

“What was
that?”
she growled wrathfully as she sat up, pushing his arm aside. “Yelling at me like that, trying to get me to shoot you….” Furious, she looked around. “Where's that gun? Give me another chance….”

Her words trailed away. Searching for the pistol, her gaze encountered a third visage. Memory came racing back. Though the face she was staring into was not human, she thought she could put a name to it.

“Fluff?” she mumbled hesitantly.

The giant Ulru-Ujurrian smiled hugely, showing gleaming white
teeth. His kind being the only true telepaths ever discovered, he replied to her straightforwardly and without hesitation.

“Clarity-friend! Good to see Flinx-friend's best friend again!” Paws that could pulverize rock embraced her, pulling her close to a furry chest and threatening to smother her. When Fluff finally let her go she was gasping for air. “Sorry hug you so hard.” The Ulru-Ujurrian's mental apology reeked of genuine contrition. “Sensed life-danger to Flinx-teacher and had to come quicklike.” Marvelously and quite unexpectedly, the huge ursinoid winked. “Always still keeping an eye on Flinx.”

He stepped back and she saw that he was not alone. Flinx's hulking savior was flanked by three other familiar figures. She recognized them as well: the thoughtful Moam, the appropriately named Bluebright, and Softsmooth, festooned with more rings than any of her companions. A fourth stood off by himself, glaring at her.

“Interruptions. Always interruptions.” An Ujurrian of few words, Maybeso promptly folded himself and disappeared into the hovering disk that constituted a dark hole in midair. Having done his job of locating Flinx, the most enigmatic of all the ursinoids had returned to wherever it was he went when he was not participating in the communal tunnel digging.

Rising shakily to her feet, she extended an arm to provide a perch for a returning Scrap. As soon as the poor minidrag landed and coiled around her extended arm, she began to stroke and reassure it. Her bewildered serpentine companion was trembling with insecurity.

“It's all right, Scrap. Everything is all right,” she whispered soothingly. Her gaze shifted to the watching ursinoids. “I'm fine, Fluff. I understand now what happened and why you did what you did.” Turning, she glared at Flinx. “You I'm still mad at.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Clarity!”

She put her free hand to her head. “Okay, okay! Stop projecting on me or I'm going to start crying myself.”

“It was the only way,” he told her helplessly. “Remember how Fluff and his friends responded when I was in danger from Coldstripe's people, back when you and I first met? Fluff and the others reacted again when I was on Visaria recently and was threatened there. I figured—I hoped—they would come to my aid once more if I could initiate similarly threatening conditions. But,” he mumbled contritely, “the threat
had
to be real.”

“Fooled us,” Bluebright declared, her loud-thinking buoyantly cheerful.

“Fooled me, too.” Clarity gazed across at Flinx. “What would have happened if your friends hadn't responded to the apparent danger and come to your aid? What would have happened if they'd been—late?”

“I would have projected onto you.” His tone was as serious as she had ever heard. “Tried to deflect your intention, or at least affected your emotions enough so that your shot would have missed.”

She was staring at him. “Are you sure that would have worked?”

“No,” he told her quietly, “I was not. But when I commit to something, I commit wholeheartedly. I don't know how to do anything halfway.” He paraphrased Truzenzuzex. “With all of civilization at stake, extreme measures are justified.”

“You committed to
me
,” she reminded him forcefully.

He swallowed hard and looked away. “I said I was sorry.”

She was quiet for a long moment. Realizing they had intruded on something profound, the normally inquisitive Ujurrians responded with uncharacteristic silence.

“I'm sorry, too, Flinx,” she told him firmly. “Not necessarily about failing to shoot you. That remains to be determined.” He stared blankly at her taciturn expression. She managed to hold it for a moment longer before throwing herself into his arms. “The galaxy may die, the galaxy may survive,” she declared soberly, “but one constant remains unchanged throughout: the profound obtuseness of the human male.”

The quartet of Ujurrians looked on as the two human-friends embraced.

Moam thought frankly at Softsmooth, who was standing next to him. “This is all part of the human game. Not civilization game. It is less important.”

“No—
more
important.” Softsmooth was insistent, and the four of them immediately fell to soundless arguing.

With the traumatized minidrags once more put at ease and Clarity (more or less) reconciled to Flinx's desperate effort, he did his best to explain to the curious Ujurrians the rationale behind his ruse.

“I had to make you think my life was in danger.” He tried not to lose himself in the plate-sized yellow eyes that were staring candidly back at him. “The last time that happened, on Visaria, you came through one of
your tunnels in time to save me. You also did it years ago, at Coldstripe. Now I need your help again.” He paused.
“Everybody
needs your help.”

“The big danger is coming.” Moam was making an observation, not asking a question. “We know. We showed you.”

Flinx nodded. “There was a weapon devised by the people who once inhabited this world. I was able to convince it to attack the oncoming Evil. It did not have enough of an effect to deflect the danger. So I thought I would ask if there's anything more you can do.” He tried to sound encouraging. “Maybe you could ‘dig’ one of your tunnels in front of it and it would fall in?”

A sequence of amused grunts emerged from deep within Bluebright's chest. Nearby, Fluff was apologetic.

“Cannot dig a hole that big, or at that distance, Flinx-teacher. Maybe in few billion of your years. But do not have that kind of time. Do not have enough minds or hands.” The rings on his fingers pulsated softly, emanating subdued internal hues. “We have done all we can do by passing along the warning, which we got from the dead people's alarm machine on world you call Horseye and local people call Tslamaina.”