Flinx Transcendent (52 page)

Tse-Mallory disappointed him. “Not Horseye. There was a report filed with Science Central on Denpasar a little over a year ago by a couple of second-level xenologists. In addition to the expected material it came with a very strange supplementary attachment. Knowing of our interest in such matters, one of our contacts in the Church passed it along to Tru and me. Preoccupied as we were keeping watch over a recovering Clarity and awaiting your return, we weren't able to go over it in depth or request a follow-up. Those coordinates, though…” His words trailed away as he struggled to remember.

Ten minutes later everyone's work was interrupted by a violent exclamation from Tse-Mallory. By the time Flinx arrived at his side, Pip having to tighten her grip on his shoulder to keep from being jounced
off, the two scientists were deep in excited conversation the details of which Flinx could follow only slightly.

Clarity jogged up alongside him. “What are they jabbering about this time?”

“I don't know.” Risking impertinence, he raised his voice. “Bran, Tru! If you've figured something out it would be nice if you shared it with the rest of us.”

The two old friends immediately ceased their rapid-fire dialogue.

“Of course, my boy, of course!” Turning to Flinx, Tse-Mallory whacked him enthusiastically on the back. Annoyed, Pip spread her wings in case she had to take flight. As for Flinx, it was not the first time he found himself sympathizing with Truzenzuzex. Both had suffered from Tse-Mallory's effusiveness.

“Those coordinates.” There was a glow to the old scientist's expression Flinx had not seen there in some time. “They're in the Senisran system! They aren't for that water-world itself but for the outlying asteroid belt—the system has two, one between the third and fourth planets and the other proximate to but outside the orbit of the tenth and last.” He wagged a thick finger in Flinx's direction. “It's most remarkable. Everything you learned from the Krang ties in with the recently received report I alluded to earlier.”

“How?” Sylzenzuzex wanted to know.

A little of the older human's ebullience receded. “I'm not sure. As I told Flinx, the report was—odd.” He brightened anew. “Of course,” he added facetiously, “what we hope to find could not in any way, shape, or fashion be considered ‘odd.’ Oh, no.” Turning away from the youngsters, he hurried to share the rest of his revelation with Truzenzuzex. Moments later the venerable thranx was all but turning cartwheels there in the soaring entrance to the Krang.

At least, Flinx mused thoughtfully, his mentors were encouraged. At the risk of diminishing their enthusiasm, he was compelled to point out that the Krang had prefaced everything it had passed along to Flinx by declaring it to be legend.

“It will be a good deal more than ‘legend’ if it conflates with certain aspects of that report, my boy,” Tse-Mallory assured him.

“Me, I'd like to know a little more about this mysterious report.” As always, Clarity's first concern was for Flinx's well-being. “What life-threatening,
mind-tormenting exercise do you intend to get him mixed up in next?”

“This is not just about Flinx, I think,” Truzenzuzex told her. “We are all of us in this together, for certain and final, for good or ill, until the next egg.” As he reached out with a foothand, four hard-surfaced digits gently gripped her forearm. “Bran and I spent more than a year looking after you while you returned to health, Clarity. Rest assured we are not about to cast aside all that hard work casually.”

“Even if the fate of the galaxy is at stake?” she asked him. But he had already turned and skittered off to resume working on the breakdown of the camp and packing the remainder of their supplies. He had not heard her parting comment—maybe.

In the course of the tedious journey out of the Blight and back into familiar Commonwealth space they had plenty of time to discuss a range of options. Everything, of course, depended on whether there really was anything at the locality that had been provided to Flinx by the Krang or if he had merely been given the coordinates of a myth.

The report that had found its way to Science Central on Earth, however, was no fable. It had been compiled and recorded by two respected xenologists in the course of their diplomatic and anthropological work among the natives of Senisran. Full of anomalous elusions and hypotheses, it was hardly enough to justify the immediate dispatch of a larger, better-equipped, and more costly research team to that watery world. For one thing, in the event that such an expedition were to be mounted, the natives who had provided much of the information that was contained in the report had promised to destroy the important relics the xenologists had described by dispersing them across a wide area of deep ocean. It was apparent that anyone wishing to carry out a formal follow-up to the initial report would have to proceed with extreme caution.

None of which concerns troubled those aboard the
Teacher
, since they were not going to touch down on Senisran and had no expectation of having to deal with its prickly natives.

The outer asteroid belt where the Krang-given coordinates lay was far enough from its sun so that it might as well have been in interstellar
space. A visitor happening upon that circumstellar ring of rock and mineral, compacted dust and water ice, would have been forgiven for thinking that was exactly where he was, save for the dominating presence of a Jovian-sized gas giant nearby. Nearby in the interplanetary sense, that is. The enormous planet lay far enough away so that, while its roiling storms and double rings were clearly visible from the section of the asteroid belt where the
Teacher
came to a stop, its radiation, powerful magnetic field, and gravity well would not pose any danger.

“We have arrived.” The
Teacher
was not much given to excessive celebration even in the best of times.

Orbiting in concert with the majority of rocks and boulders and planetoids that comprised the outer asteroid belt, the ship continuously monitored its surroundings lest something small, solid, and moving faster than its fellows threatened to pose a danger to it and its fragile organic inhabitants. During the following first week of searching it had to use its weaponry to reduce several such minor course-crossing hazards to powder. By the second week Flinx almost hoped something (small and essentially harmless but noisy) would slip past the
Teacher's
sensors and strike the ship. It could hardly pose less of a danger than the ennui that was threatening to overcome them all.

“It would help if we knew more precisely what we were looking for,” Clarity pointed out to him on the last day of the second week of searching the coordinates the Krang had provided.

“We're looking for a link.” Flinx was standing by the forward console, staring out the main port. At the far end of the
Teacher
, its Caplis generator was dark. They could not use the KK-drive field this close to so many sizable solid objects, nor was there any need to do so.

“Like I said,” Clarity reiterated with uncharacteristic exasperation, “it would help if we knew more precisely what we were looking for.”

His retort was sharp. “I am
so
sorry. I had this perfect tridee image of a four-hundred-million-year-old Xunca alarm-weapons link in my pocket, but I seem to have dropped it somewhere.” Her reaction left him immediately contrite.

“I'm sorry, Clarity. I apologize.” As he started toward her, she put up a hand to forestall him.

“Forget it. Weeks of searching and finding nothing have left us all frustrated and on edge.” She looked around to make sure they were still
alone. “Have you seen Syl lately? She's so wound up she's chewed a couple of centimeters off the ends of each of her ovipositors.”

The
Teacher
was doing its best, Flinx knew. But like any AI, even one equipped with symbolic logic, it remained at its core a literal device. It could and would search diligently for anything—if they could just tell it what to look for. On that note the Tar-Aiym Krang had been lamentably uninformative.

Surely they would find something, eventually. It was simply a matter of scanning and analyzing the objects that comprised the asteroid belt until they came upon—what?

“We will know it when we see it,” an optimistic Truzenzuzex insisted. “The complex on Horseye would not continue sending, however intermittently, a composite signal to a corner of empty space.”

At least they did not have to circle the distant sun and search the entire asteroid belt. They only had to examine the portion facing the outer gas giant, in the vicinity of the coordinates the Krang had provided. But visually, at least, there seemed nothing to differentiate one square kilometer of drifting dead rock from the next.

As the third week of searching crept toward its end, the
Teacher
continued its relentless examination. The less patient organic life-forms on board, however, were approaching terminal boredom.

“This isn't working.” Truzenzuzex clicked impatiently as his four opposing mandibles finished masticating the last of the early meal.

“An unassailable observation.” Tilting her head back slightly, Sylzenzuzex drained the last of the blue liquid from a spiral-tipped cylinder. The normally even-tempered security officer's mood was becoming as touchy as that of her venerable Eighth.

These days none of them, Flinx had to admit, was in a very good mood. The promise that had drawn them here from distant Booster had been lost to weeks of endless ennui interrupted only by the venturing of the occasional bad idea. Now it seemed that the philosoph was about to put forth another one. Among his companions, disinterest was universal.

Until they heard it.

“Nothing of value was learned on this journey,
dr!app
, until Flinx communicated with the Krang. It occurs to me that we are faced with a similar situation here.”

As Tse-Mallory pushed his chair back from the table he was careful to avoid crushing the large spatulate leaves of the trio of decorative growths behind him. Some of the imported flora that bedecked Flinx's private lounge had done so well that he had transplanted shoots and buds elsewhere within the
Teacher
. The spread of greenery certainly brightened many purely prosaic corners of the ship.

“If that were the case and there was some sort of similar device adrift here,” the soldier-sociologist conjectured, “wouldn't it have responded to Flinx's presence by now?” Turning from his friend, he looked over at the silent subject of the conversation. “You haven't sensed anything since we've arrived here, have you, Flinx? An alien presence, something akin to the Krang or the wandering weapons platform?”

Flinx shook his head as Clarity passed him a ship-conjured pastry filled with simulated cloudberries. “No, sir, nothing,” he replied as he ate.

“I am thinking,” the philosoph mused aloud, “that perhaps his proximity to the rest of us might somehow mute or dilute his sensitivity. Or conversely, confuse the perceptiveness of that which we are looking for.”

Tse-Mallory was intrigued. “You're saying, in so many words, that the rest of us might be jamming the signals.”

“A crude analogy for what we must presume, if it exists, is an exceptionally advanced interaction, but yes.”

“How do you suggest we overcome this theoretical blockage?”

Both antennae inclined in Flinx's direction as Truzenzuzex regarded their young host. “We should experiment by isolating him from the possible source of disruption, which is us. Flinx, I am of the opinion that you should take an extended walk while the ship moves to another position.”

Flinx paused with the remnants of the pastry halfway to his mouth. Responding to his abrupt emotional reaction, Pip and Scrap looked up sharply from where they had curled up together among the comforting vegetation.

“I've got an idea.” Flinx stared back at the philosoph. “Why don't the rest of you go for a walk and I'll stay with the ship.”

Seated beside him, Clarity jabbed him in the ribs. Perceiving that neither the blow nor its perpetrator were representative of the beginnings of actual conflict, both minidrags went back to sleep. “Me, too, Red?”

“No, of course not you, Clarity.” Caught between a woman and a
theory, Flinx sensed that neither was immediately resolvable. Perched on the resultant dilemma, he turned to Tse-Mallory. “Bran, what do you think? Is what Tru suggests a viable proposal?”

The powerfully built sociologist did not hesitate. “Nothing else is working. I don't see what harm could result.” He studied the younger man. “Unless you have a fear of being outside by yourself.”

Flinx shook his head. “I've spent too much time traveling through space to be afraid of it. Respectful, yes. Awed, surely. But it's not something I fear.” He looked back to Truzenzuzex. “When do you want to try this experiment, Tru?”

The philosoph gestured with all four hands. “Yesterday's searching was devoid of discovery. Extrapolating from our previous probing, tomorrow's searching is likely to be devoid of discovery. Let us schedule an exception for today. Of course, if you feel you need time to acclimate yourself to the idea …”

Swallowing the last of the pastry, Flinx rose from his seat. “I'll instruct the
Teacher
to ready a survival suit.” He looked down at Clarity. “Are you all right with this?”

She hesitated momentarily, eyeing the two expectant scientists. “If Bran and Tru think it's safe, then I guess we ought to try it. I don't like the idea of you making contact with
any
kind of device from
any
ancient alien civilization. Much less via an interface that might take you away from the ship.” She looked reconciled. “But that's what we're here to try and do.”

Smiling, he reached over and lightly tousled her hair. She responded by making a face. “Don't worry. I won't do anything stupid. And I'll be thinking of you the whole time.”

Truzenzuzex shook his head sadly. “Unhelpful. While you're outside you should be trying to think like a Xunca.”

Flinx would have been happy to comply—except that no one knew how the Xunca thought, and had not done so for hundreds of millions of years.