Flinx Transcendent (7 page)

Seeing that Pip was watching him and not his approaching attacker, Flinx made sure to keep his thoughts calm. There was no real danger here, he told himself. Everything was manageable. He faced nothing more dangerous than a little strenuous exercise. The nighttime visitor was not an enemy. Perceiving his thoughts, the deadly flying snake slowed her wing beats and settled back to the ground. Flinx relaxed. Feeding off her master's relaxation, the minidrag's mind was eased that much more. Still, she did not fold her wings flat against her sides, and she stayed alert.

Kiijeem continued to advance one stealthy step at a time. His unshod claws scraped rock, seeking the most secure foothold. If this
was
a game, the hypothesized unseen players were not ready to call it off. Was he actually going to have to bleed the tall figure confronting him? And what was it doing with its arms and hands? Why had it positioned itself with one leg in advance of the other, instead of side by side to gain the most height when leaping and kicking out?

It did not matter. If constrained within a clever costume, whoever had been hired or otherwise engaged to frighten him would find their movements correspondingly restricted. The realization was reassuring. Letting out a swelling battle hiss, his tail whipping behind him, Kiijeem AVMd charged across the painstakingly sculpted, slightly sloping sandstone that enclosed the artificial pool.

Overlooked by the onrushing reptilian figure and reassured by her master's muted emotions, Pip lay half dozing on the slice of rock where she had decided to rest and ignored them both.

At a chosen distance from his target, Kiijeem gave free rein to his powerful leg muscles and leaped. Though not yet fully mature he was strong for his age and the beneficiary of good martial training. As he started to descend toward his taller target, he cocked his legs and prepared to kick out, keeping bengk and tail in reserve. Still the shape before him did not move; merely continued to track him with its peculiar round eyes. Choosing the optimum moment, Kiijeem kicked. Still uncertain as to the seriousness of the challenge, he elected to strike for the chest instead of the head. If he was fighting an actor constrained by a costume, he did not want to mutilate or kill.

He need not have worried. As his legs shot forward in the direction of his opponent he expected it to try a blocking maneuver or to retreat. Instead, the tall shape ducked and threw itself
forward
. Exhibiting a suppleness that reflected the flexibility of a truly soft body, it tucked into a ball and rolled. As Kiijeem dropped farther and tried to adjust the striking angle of his double kick, the human figure thrust out and upward with both legs. Kiijeem flicked his tail downward, but he was not quite fast enough. Before the tail's sheathed point could strike home, both of his opponent's feet made contact between the base of the AAnn's tail and his legs.

The swift kick in the behind sent Kiijeem sprawling unceremoniously on the rocks. His landing was as undignified as it was unanticipated. Fortunately for him, the claws on human feet were stunted and harmless. Momentarily stunned, he recovered in time to see the human shape standing once more erect on both legs, still somehow managing to maintain itself upright in the absence of a counterbalancing tail. Expecting an attack, Kiijeem scrambled frantically to regain his footing. Lying on the ground, he was vulnerable.

The figure did not attack. Instead, it stood breathing easily while staring back at him. The fingers on both fleshy hands curled inward against the palms: a sign of inoffensiveness. Truly, Kiijeem decided, this was the most peculiar deception in which he had ever participated. His opponent ought to have rushed him when he was down. What kind of game was being played here? Was his adversary showing deliberate
disdain for Kiijeem's fighting skills? But if that was the case, why was the tall shape not making the appropriate accompanying gestures of contempt? Rising to his feet, Kiijeem dropped back into a fighting crouch.

“I intend you no injury, I wish you no harm,” the figure declared in its barely accented AAnn.

“Sspawn of sswamp,” Kiijeem hissed. “I will take your tail!” As he charged a second time it struck him how futile the threat must sound. His opponent had no tail. Unless, Kiijeem reminded himself, it was coiled and bound inside the base of the human suit to further the illusion.

Maybe this was some kind of test, he told himself as he rushed forward, bengk at the ready. If so, he would not be found wanting.

Let it not be said that he failed to learn from experience. This time he did not jump. Instead, at the last instant he dropped into a slide, legs thrust out in front of him, intending to take his foe's feet out from underneath. No unarmored human could have duplicated that swift slide on unforgiving rock without sacrificing plenty of skin. The young AAnn's scaly hide protected him from any scrapes or cuts. To distract his opponent Kiijeem threw his torgk upward, straight at the figure's face. This left him free to strike out with the bengk at whatever portion of his rival's anatomy came within reach.

None did. The figure simply jumped straight up into the air. One downward-sweeping arm batted the flying torgk aside. Digging in with his claws, Kiijeem stopped his slide directly beneath the falling human shape. Bengk and tail upraised, he waited for his opponent to simply fall on the point of blade or sheath. His intent was still only to wound and not to kill. Lying on the nearby sandstone, a suddenly concerned Pip raised her head to eye the ongoing combat.

As the figure fell toward him it twisted in midair. Demonstrating un-AAnn-like flexibility at the thigh, one leg swung out and around to hook the upthrust tail and half coil around it, trapping it and rendering it harmless. At the same time an arm snapped downward to knock aside the hand holding the bengk. The fingers of the other hand spread wide.

The air whooshed out of Kiijeem as the heavy body landed on top of him. His tail was hooked and trapped, the hand holding the bengk was pinned to one side, and his adversary's other hand …

The other soft but powerful hand was gripping his throat.

Only the fact that those clutching fingers were clawless kept Kiijeem from giving in completely to panic. The blunt keratin at the tips of those five (why five and not the normal four? he wondered) could do him no harm. But the fingers themselves—how strong were they?

He was utterly helpless, Kiijeem realized. His legs were free, but the heavy body lying atop his pinned form prevented him from flexing enough to make contact with his clawed feet. He struggled to kick free, to no avail. What if his opponent chose to tighten further those choking fingers? Kiijeem considered yelping for help, but if this was a test, or a masquerade, it would only magnify the humiliation of his defeat. At the hands of an unarmed opponent, no less.

He waited for his enemy to increase the pressure on his throat. He waited for him to claim the right to inflict a ceremonial injury. He waited for a rush of hissing laughter from hidden, unseen mouths. What happened next unnerved him completely.

The tall, lanky figure released the grip on his throat, carefully straightened the leg that had locked itself around Kiijeem's tail, rose, and stepped back to look down at him. Lying on the ground, Kiijeem let the fingers clutching the bengk loosen as he stared dazedly up at his opponent.

“I attacked with weaponss. You have the right to claim damage.” He waited stoically. As the tailless shape came slowly toward him he closed his eyes and tensed.

A soft, pulpy hand made contact with his own right one. Five digits wrapped around his four. Not to break, not to dislocate, but to pull. The strength in those spongy fingers was as surprising as the figure's agility. As they helped him upright, Kiijeem could detect nothing of artifice about the gesture. Breathing hard, he stared up at his infuriatingly phlegmatic opponent.

“You inflict no injury.” Even an actor, he knew, would leap at the opportunity to acquire that germane bit of status, if only as a bonus in addition to whatever payment he had been promised. Kiijeem looked around. The night was still calm, the exclusive residential neighborhood still quiet. No shapes emerged from the darkness to laugh, to chide, or to admonish him. His lower jaw dropped to reveal sharp teeth, and his tongue lay flat and numb against his palate.

“It's a human thing,” Flinx told him, careful not to show any teeth of his own as he smiled back.

“You…,” Kiijeem searched for appropriate words. “You really
are
a human.”

“Truly,” Flinx replied, this time without even a trace of an offworld accent.

“How can thiss be? How can
you
be?” Aware that he was still gripping the bengk, Kiijeem realized that the figure standing before him was within easy stabbing range. The tip of his tail twitched, instinctive preparation for whipping around and striking. The appendage seemed oddly heavy. Looking around, he saw that something had attached itself to the very tip.

The small flying creature had wrapped its coils around the end. Staring at the brightly colored blue and pink creature, Kiijeem took in the slitted eyes, the scaly body, and reflected that it was the one he would have been comfortable conversing with. Alas, while the winged thing was somewhat perceptive it was just as obviously not sentient.

“If I cannot be,” Flinx replied gently as he took a seat on the sandstone and crossed his long legs, “then who are you talking to?”

“I wass being literal, not solipssisstic.” Kiijeem squatted down into a resting crouch. After a moment's indecision he laid the bengk aside. But not out of reach. That would have been foolish. And un-AAnn-like. “What I meant wass that you, a human, should not be on Blasussarr.” Double eyelids blinked in succession. “You are not an operative attached to the Commonwealth diplomatic corpss?”

“No.” Flinx chuckled. “They would be as upset to learn that I'm here as would your own officials.”

“Then what
are
you doing here?” a genuinely curious Kiijeem inquired. “To my knowledge, no human hass ever managed ssuch a thing.”

“I'm here because,” Flinx explained thoughtfully, “to my knowledge, ‘no human has ever managed such a thing.’” He looked away from the now intensely interested young nye, toward the night sky. “I seem to have a propensity for doing things none of my kind have done before. My own ship thinks I'm crazy.”

Two revelations to ponder in one short phrase, Kiijeem decided.
“I'm crazy” and “My own ship thinks.” He determined now was not the time or place to probe more deeply into either claim.

“You are lying. There cannot be a human sship near Blasussarr. Any incoming vessel not intercepted in the outer reachess of the home ssysstem would be obliterated long before it could enter into orbit.”

Flinx did not smile. “Technological advances exist that the Empire knows nothing about. Or for that matter, the Commonwealth. My ship is not your typical voyager through space-plus. And I am not your usual human.”

“I would not know. I have never encountered a ssoftsskin before. Only in sstudiess. Never in the flessh.” Aware that the weight had left his tail, he looked on as the colorful flying creature buzzed over to land on its master's shoulder.

“Disappointed?” Flinx asked him. “Afraid?” He already sensed that the young nye was afraid of him, but he was curious to see how the youth would respond to a direct query.

“A little, truly,” Kiijeem replied with admirable honesty. “You are not going to kill me.” It was not a question. Had the human intended murder, he would already have carried it out.

“No. You are not my enemy.” Drawing his knees up to his chest, Flinx clasped his arms around them. As dawn began to threaten, the coldest part of the night probed harder at his exposed flesh.

“The Empire and the Commonwealth have been enemiess for a long time.” As he spoke, Kiijeem tried to note all the details of the softskin's alien anatomy. In many ways the sight was laughable; in others, fascinating.

“I am not the Commonwealth,” Flinx told him somberly. “And you, I hope, are not the Empire. I know your name, and you know mine. By the sand that shelters life, I would beg your friendship.”

None of this was proceeding as Kiijeem had expected. First the human had physically upended him and now it was unsettling him mentally as well. As the victor in their combat the softskin was in a position to
demand
friendship. There was no need for him to beseech it. But that was just what he was doing. Gratuitously and without being asked, he had given back to Kiijeem the share of status that the nye had lost in the course of the fight. It was a generous gift.

But—could he respond? Whoever heard of an AAnn granting
friendship to a human? One might as well offer it to a rabid thranx. Yet given the circumstances of their meeting, how could he refuse? More beguilingly, Kiijeem was not sure he
wanted
to refuse.

Though he sensed the ambivalence in the young AAnn's emotions, Flinx did not try to intervene, either verbally or with his Talent. It was important that, whatever decision this youth came to, he reach it on his own. Only in that way would it last. Flinx was optimistic. Given his youth, Kiijeem might not yet have acquired the visceral hatred of humans that was prevalent among his kind. Noninterference in the young nye's decision was, on Flinx's part, something of a gamble. He smiled inwardly. He had gambled similarly on one or two occasions in the past, and he was still here.

His assessment paid off. Turning his head to one side, Kiijeem exposed his throat. At the same time, he reached out toward the human, the claws on his hand fully retracted. Across the distance that separated them, Flinx mimicked the clutching gesture flawlessly.

“Sso you are telling me,” a now far more at ease Kiijeem began as he lowered his arm, “that you have ssomehow penetrated all Imperial planetary and ssysstem defenssess ssolely in the sservice of a perssonal interesst?”

Flinx nodded, then thought to add the appropriate AAnn gesture of third-degree reassurance. “That's one reason. There is another.” Turning slightly to his left, he glanced at the eastern sky. It was starting to lighten. “Not enough time for complete explanations now, I'm afraid. You and I have struck concordance. I'm not sure others of your kind would be so accommodating if they were aware of my presence here.” He turned back to his young host. “Also, the city authorities are looking for me.”