Flinx Transcendent Part 1

Flinx Transcendent_ A Pip & Flinx Adventure.

by Alan Dean Foster.

To the friends of Flinx and Pip, who have waited patiently (okay, sometimes not so patiently) for more than a third of a century to see him finally get some closure. The three of us thank you.

ABU THE THIEF: "You've got what you want. Now I'm going to get what I want." "You've got what you want. Now I'm going to get what I want."PRINCE AHMAD: "What's that?" "What's that?"ABU: "Some fun and adventure, at last!" "Some fun and adventure, at last!"-THE THIEF OF BAGHDAD, 1940

Insofar as he knew, Flinx was the first unofficial, uninvited representative of his species to set foot on the AAnn homeworld of Blasusarr. Very few humans and even fewer thranx had ever been formally accredited to do so. Only the minimum number essential to facilitate those few diplomatic exchanges where electronic representations were insufficient and face-to-face conversation was demanded had ever been allowed actual physical access. The idea that a single human operating entirely on their own might somehow succeed in penetrating the elaborate and extensive defenses that redundantly englobed Blasusarr was sufficiently ludicrous to promulgate all by itself entirely new orders of cognitive absurdity. Everyone knew that no non-AAnn s.h.i.+p could so much as approach the outskirts of the homeworld system without being challenged-or blown to bits.

However, the AAnn scientists and engineers who had designed and built those impressive planetary defense systems had never envisioned a s.h.i.+p like the Teacher Teacher. But then, neither had anyone else.

The energetic and enthusiastic Ulru-Ujurrians, using all of their exponentially developing skills, imbued the entire body of Flinx's vessel with a chameleonic ability. The s.h.i.+p could so completely transform its appearance that one moment it could present the perfect likeness and detection signature of a private pa.s.senger craft, and the next that of a heavily armed military escort. Now settled in un.o.btrusive orbit around the AAnn homeworld, it displayed the convincing aspect of a minor clan AAnn cargo vessel. Furthermore, it was not the only persuasive transformation to have taken place in that vicinity. There was also the elaborate and difficult provisional makeover Flinx had devised for himself.

So accomplished was the result that he had been on Blasusarr for a local teverravak teverravak, or sixteen days, without drawing more than the occasional casual glance. Perfectly fas.h.i.+oned though it was, the simsuit that enveloped him completely would have been inadequate to sustain the ruse had he not been so knowledgeable in the ways of the quasi-reptilians among whom he moved. He knew how to emulate the loping AAnn gait, which involved bending slightly at the knees and invigorating each step with a slight hopping motion; was intimately familiar with their eloquent repertoire of communicative hand gestures; could eat their food (though the profoundly carnivorous diet was beginning to have adverse effects on his waistline); and, through the use of tiny but powerful integrated servos lodged in the suit's hindquarters, was even able to satisfactorily manipulate its integrated lightweight tail. Built-in nanoneuromatics operated the suit's double eyelids. Having to view the world through their slitted pupils somewhat restricted his peripheral vision, but the result was more than adequate. He saw everything that threatened to trip him.

Thus camouflaged and experienced, he pa.s.sed freely if cautiously among his unknowing hosts, the loose s.p.a.ces and the specially constructed sleeping pocket within the suit providing ample room for Pip to both rest and move about while retaining a certain amount of freedom.

Not even the operators of the subsurface transient burrow where Flinx had rented living s.p.a.ce suspected that he was anything but a nye: a fully mature adult AAnn. Utilizing a mastery of his hosts' language that was rare among his kind, while keeping conversation to a minimum, he found himself accepted by his fellow burrow-dwellers as one of their own. He even took care to make appropriate use of the sand room in his quarters, remembering before departing each day to leave the suitably scaly impression of his simsuit on the heated surface.

Thankfully, the suit's thermosensitive cooling system was up to the task of coping with Blasusarr's demanding climate. The AAnn had evolved on a desert world. While Flinx normally would have had no trouble tolerating the dry forty-degree heat, any other kind of completely enclosed suit would have rendered it unbearable. Coc.o.o.ned within its technologically advanced confines he stayed cool and reasonably comfortable, and could do most anything an AAnn could do without revealing his human ident.i.ty. Eating, drinking, and voiding were the chief exceptions. He sustained his masquerade by making sure to perform such necessary functions only in private and under carefully controlled conditions.

The capital city of Blasusarr and therefore the entire AAnn empire, Krra.s.sin was an immensely spread-out metropolis of long, low buildings punctuated only by the occasional unavoidable tower. While humans favored the view to be had from on high and the thranx chose where possible to cl.u.s.ter together belowground, the AAnn, having evolved from burrow-ambush predators, still preferred to live and work just below and just above the surface. The ideal AAnn dwelling was one partially subterranean but featuring long, narrow windows that provided a view exactly at ground level. In a city the size of Krra.s.sin such panoramas were scarce and available only to the most privileged. Those forced to live high above the ground or deep below the surface had to make do with virtual visuals.

Having mastered their harsh environment, the majority of AAnn spent the bulk of their waking hours living and working within the vast interconnected warren that was the Great Burrow of Krra.s.sin. Those who ventured outside on foot did so on external pedestrian walkways that, following tradition, crisscrossed the city in a succession of sweeping, concentric S-curves.

It was down one such gently curving avenue that Flinx presently found himself strolling. He kept to the extreme right or the left, avoiding the center path that was reserved for those citizens who wished to engage in ceremonial aggression; whether for purposes of social interaction, the striving for upward mobility that motivated all AAnn, or as a preliminary to deeper and more personal interrelations.h.i.+ps that extended to but did not necessarily include procreation.

Sometimes several fights were in progress at the same time. It was not unusual for these to involve members of both s.e.xes. Only rarely did they draw the attention of the preoccupied pa.s.sersby who kept to the concord walks that flanked the contested middle walkway. The majority of these confrontational encounters were highly ritualized, though actual physical contact was common enough. By walking the center path and facing up to come what may, be it hostile, s.e.xual, or social, combatants acquired status. Such status was recorded and c.u.mulative. It was one very public way an individual AAnn could rise within the social order without being born into an aristocratic family. As he strove to blend ever deeper into AAnn society Flinx often scrutinized such confrontations with intense interest. It was good that he did.

Because on his eleventh day on Blasusarr the forcefully side-switching tail of a carelessly hurrying worker accidentally jostled Flinx off the left-hand walkway and straight onto the always contentious, ever challenging Middle Path.

Unlike the wide and winding pedestrian avenues that flanked it to left and right, the center core was not paved, unless one counted as pavement the expertly stylized and sterilized sand that had been imported to fill the gently meandering, slightly depressed four-meter-wide walkway. Flinx's clawed, sandal-shod AAnn "feet" slipped slightly in the soft sand as he fought to recover his footing. In the process they smeared the intricate whorls, ripples, and other imaginative patterns both traditional and contemporary that automated preprogrammed sand-grooming machinery incised anew every morning for the enjoyment and edification of pa.s.sing nye. Recovering his balance as he straightened, he prepared to step back onto the right-side concourse.

Only to find his way blocked.

The lightly clad, iridescently scaled challenger was male, his stance unapologetically belligerent. Like any other nye one was likely to encounter on the Middle Path, he was looking for trouble. Were he not, he would have been striding along on the peaceful left or right walk and not in the sand-filled center. Flinx immediately tensed. At least his antagonist was not an aroused female looking to partner. The ingenious simsuit Flinx wore could replicate many aspects of AAnn physical behavior, but reptiloid intercourse was not one of them.

It was to be straightforward physical confrontation then. To what end and what degree he had yet to find out. Within the suit he could feel Pip's coils contracting around his shoulder as she sensed and responded to her master's heightened anxiety. Controlling his emotions, he did his best to calm her. Having to restrain her while he was engaged in combat was a complication he had learned how to deal with as a child. How difficult it was going to be on this particularly dangerous occasion depended largely on his adversary's intentions. With no status at risk Flinx was perfectly content to let his opponent triumph. The one thing he could not not chance was damage to the concealing simsuit and subsequent revelation of his true ident.i.ty. With luck and caution it would not come to that. chance was damage to the concealing simsuit and subsequent revelation of his true ident.i.ty. With luck and caution it would not come to that.

"Ssp.a.w.n of Zithanitese," the big male hissed at him. The slur was accompanied by a gesture of third-degree contempt. Nothing too serious, Flinx decided as he a.n.a.lyzed the insult. It was too soon to relax, though. He had to respond appropriately and believably while ensuring that the confrontation did not escalate. He explored his considerable vocabulary of AAnn invective, seeking just the right balance between defiance and deference.

"Ssoured in the egg ssoundss ssuch," he retorted, upthrusting and bringing his simsuit-clad right arm around and down in a sweeping motion indicative of second-degree disrespect. It was an appropriately robust response, but not one so forceful as to invite the drawing of personal weaponry. As he swung his arm he was careful not to activate the sensors that would extend his simsuit's faux claws to the fullest.

Hissing scorn, tail switching from side to side in his excitement, the AAnn edged to his right. The attempt to get behind Flinx was blatant, executed deliberately and with no attempt at subtlety. His adversary wanted to prevail in the confrontation, Flinx saw, but not necessarily by having to pound his fellow citizen into the sand. Not that the AAnn would hesitate to do so if he thought it necessary.

Upon contact with the appropriate control, Flinx's servo-controlled false tail began to metronome in similar fas.h.i.+on, mimicking the back-and-forth swings of his opponent. That was about all the artificial appendage could do. If it came to an actual fight, the synthetic muscles that powered the fake extension were not strong enough to enable it to strike the challenger a serious blow. His antagonist's tail, Flinx knew, was considerably more flexible, and useful.

Parting his jaws, the AAnn flashed sharp teeth. Flinx responded in kind but could not open his mouth as wide lest its unnatural nature be revealed. Additionally, the limited exposure represented a ritual concession of sorts. His adversary promptly pounced on it.

"Your bite lackss sspirit. With ssuch ssmall biting one would sstarve. It would be a mercy to kill you before you die of hunger."

Though he badly wanted out of the confrontation, Flinx knew he could not concede so readily. To show such weakness would be to invite even greater insults-or worse, an actual beating. Under those circ.u.mstances he knew he would have no choice but to respond physically, though he might have difficulty restraining Pip from working her way clear of the simsuit in her eagerness to defend him.

"Otherss have tried. Otherss have died."

Bold words. The AAnn did not have to believe them, or try to test the truth of them. It was enough that the slightly awkward taller male sliding sideways across the sand had spoken them. Similar ritualized confrontations occurred by the thousands on the hundreds of identical Middle Paths that threaded their way through Krra.s.sin, its suburbs, and across the length and breadth of Blasusarr. Their purpose was to provide a (usually) nonlethal means of regulating and fine-tuning status among energetic, upwardly mobile individuals, not to generate dozens of unproductive deaths.

Flinx could not fully display the simsuit's orthodontics, but he could at a touch of two sensors fully extend its synthesized claws. He did so now. But even as he revealed the simsuit's offensive bodyware he kept moving to his left and trying to circle around his opponent. How would the AAnn react? What degree of status did he seek to gain from the confrontation?

To Flinx's relief his adversary responded only with more words. Well-chosen words, to be sure, but far less dangerous than the headlong charge or scything hand swipe the simsuited human was preparing himself to counter.

"I do not resspond to sspittle with ssla.s.sh."

"Sso you ssay." Flinx reacted with acceptable neutrality.

The big male hissed once more and turned away. Without speaking another word he resumed striding down the Middle Path, looking for another fellow city dweller to confront. Flinx sensed his opponent's satisfaction. By being the one to state the initial challenge and subsequently forcing the other "AAnn" to choose between a fight or evading it, technically the nye had won the encounter. Flinx was more than happy to allow the combative male his triumph. The important thing was that actual combat had been avoided.

Busily making their way north and south along the properly paved flanking walkways, the rest of the pedestrian traffic had completely ignored the whole hissing, spitting, tooth-and-claw-displaying confrontation. As Flinx continued on his way, careful after his earlier unforeseen b.u.mp to hug the walls of low-lying buildings and avoid the Middle Path, he himself pa.s.sed dozens of other, similar, Middle Walkway altercations. On one occasion he saw two females locked arm in arm, leg in leg, and tail in tail on the sand. Blood stained the intricately raked patterns on the ground beneath them. Along with his fellow preoccupied strollers, Flinx ignored the fight, which was far more serious than the one he had been involved in earlier. Such battles were routine.

In many ways this frequent daily physical conflict in search of standing and status was more honest than comparable confrontations among his own kind, he reflected as he strode along beneath the blistering sun. Which was more honest: gossiping and sniping about an enemy behind his back, or trying to rip the skin off said body part? The intended end was the same; only the cultural approach was different. Using both his eyes and his Talent he continued to investigate the AAnn who surrounded him.

Blasusarr. As dangerous a place in the galaxy as a representative of his species could find himself in. What he had already accomplished, by deliberately placing himself among humanxkind's mortal enemies and successfully surviving in their presence, was as far as he knew an unprecedented achievement.

When he had first voiced his intent to the Teacher Teacher, his s.h.i.+p had been appalled. It had objected strenuously. But it could not, even for what it believed to be his own good, go against its master's orders. So it had disguised itself appropriately, entered Imperial s.p.a.ce, slipped into orbit around the AAnn homeworld, and deposited him via masked shuttle at a vast desert park outside the metropolis. Starting from there, the simsuit-clad Flinx had used his knowledge of AAnn language and culture to work his way into the city.

He had set himself the challenge partly because it was something no one else had ever done, partly because it was such an outrageous notion that no one had ever imagined trying it, and lastly because of what he had learned in the course of his previous sojourn on Gestalt: he no longer much cared what happened to him. If he survived his present enterprise, it was an accomplishment he could pa.s.s off with a shrug. If he failed, he would die, and that was no great loss either. Though it tried to argue him out of both the exploit and the depression that underlay it, the Teacher Teacher did not succeed. Now it drifted in veiled orbit, brooding and worrying about his day-to-day circ.u.mstances. It did not worry about itself, of course. Its intelligence was artificial, its worry programmed, its concern a function of a specific set of predetermined code. did not succeed. Now it drifted in veiled orbit, brooding and worrying about his day-to-day circ.u.mstances. It did not worry about itself, of course. Its intelligence was artificial, its worry programmed, its concern a function of a specific set of predetermined code.

Along with the Teacher's Teacher's s.h.i.+pmind, there were also certain active elements of the vessel's decor that worried about his health. They too were powerless to prevent him from embarking on what both their organic and inorganic minds were convinced was nothing less than a reckless jaunt. s.h.i.+pmind, there were also certain active elements of the vessel's decor that worried about his health. They too were powerless to prevent him from embarking on what both their organic and inorganic minds were convinced was nothing less than a reckless jaunt.

Flinx's slide into increasingly irresponsible behavior had been accelerated enormously by what had happened to him and by what he had learned of his origins in the course of his recent visit to the frigid world of Gestalt. His lengthy, determined quest to find his father had ended in the revelation that such an individual did not and, in fact, never had existed. In discovering that half of his biological heritage consisted of nothing more than an impersonal concoction of designer proteins, artificially leveraged by indifferent scientists to produce a zygote that when matured would, they hoped, display certain interesting mental abilities, he had felt something fundamental drain out of him. He had been nothing more than a test, an experiment, one among many.

That the end result had turned out to be at once disappointing and far beyond anything its original Meliorare developers had envisioned was of no consolation to the experiment himself.

The discovery had left him more down on himself and on his species than at any time in his life. Well short of his thirtieth birthday, he had spent the preceding decade desperately trying to learn the truth about himself, only to wish now as he stalked the streets of alien Krra.s.sin that he had never bothered to try. The search had led him to wondrous revelations and astounding adventures, to great friends.h.i.+ps and an ever-strengthening love, but also to unsought, uncomfortable realizations about humankind and to a deepening personal malaise from which he seemed unable to extricate himself.

His unique empathic abilities had placed him in the position of potential savior of the galaxy. They had also rendered that potential savior increasingly indifferent to both his and its fate. Why should he trouble himself, if he was only the product of human experimentation and not humanity itself? He could live out the remainder of his natural life with Clarity Held. So could their children, should they have any. Though the threat to the Commonwealth and its galactic surrounds was advancing at increasing speed, he would be long dead before it began to affect the outermost star systems. Why risk his own life and happiness to save a species to which he belonged only through invention?

Could he even call himself human anymore?

Within the confines of the suit, Pip s.h.i.+fted uneasily in response to her master's troubled thoughts. While ever a comfort to him, her presence was also nonhuman. Empathetic but simplistic. Nor did he expect to find sympathy or understanding here, on the homeworld of the Commonwealth's most powerful adversary. He had come because it was a thing that had never been tried, and because he no longer deeply cared whether he lived or died. The time he had spent among the troubled youth of Visaria had given him a reason to stumble on. That brief flash of hope and inspiration had been more than negated by what he had learned about himself on Gestalt.

As he wound his way slowly up the winding curves of the paved pedestrian walkway, he found it numbing, if not exactly relaxing, to roam among intelligent but nonhuman sentients. When his still unpredictable, erratic Talent was functioning he was able to perceive their emotions. These were more consistently hostile, more inherently combative than those of his own kind. Yet they possessed a confidence and tranquility all their own, due not only to their alienness but to the culture in which they were grounded. Fight, argue, challenge-within this constant conflict lay a serenity that derived from consistency. It also inspired and drove each individual AAnn to always do their best, or else find themselves doomed to mediocrity. Humans possessed a similar drive, but one that was moderated by compa.s.sion.

What did it matter? What among either species, or among the thranx, or among any of the other intelligent species whose future was threatened by the Great Evil that was speeding toward the galaxy was worth the sacrifice of his own brief, transitory happiness? He thought of Clarity and Mother Mastiff, of Bran Tse-Mallory and Truzenzuzex. Surely those were examples of individuals worth saving. Because they happened to be his friends, or his love? Did anything else recommend them and link them?

Then it struck him.

Intelligence. Regardless of how he thought it was misused, in spite of how those who were fortunate enough to possess it frittered it away on trivial personal pursuits or f.e.c.kless quarrels, that was the light that could not be allowed to go out. If the Great Evil was not confronted, if he did not do what little he could to help divert or defeat it, then he was ultimately as guilty as the billions he condemned. It had nothing to do with the confused delinquents of Visaria, or the slow-moving thinkers of Jast, or any other particular sentient species, humans included. It had to do with preserving the ability to understand understand. Trillions of stars and billions of years had culminated in a spark of comprehension here, a flash of awareness there. Experiment or not, he felt he was ethically bound, as an ancient Terran poet had once declared, to "Rage, rage, against the dying of the light." If that realization could be applied to an individual life, surely it was applicable to sentience as a whole. The s.h.i.+ning clarity of his own intelligence, for example, was something that stood apart from the confusion of his origins.

A knife stabbed straight through his head, piercing the frontal lobe and shocking him all the way down to his toes. Subject to and unable to avoid the mental flare, poor Pip contracted spasmodically against his upper thigh.

All his deliberating, the best of his intentions and the worst of his indifference, continued to be held hostage to the horrific headaches that had increasingly plagued him as he grew and matured. Resist though he did the one that had just struck him, he still found himself unable to do little more than stagger into a public voiding slit cut from the inward-slanting jet-black wall of the nearest building. Leaning against the interior halfway between the street and the sanitizing receptor, his chest heaving as he sucked down short, trembling gasps, he fought to stay upright. If he let the agonizing pain overcome him and pa.s.sed out, whatever decision he reached about the threat facing the galaxy or about anything else would be rendered moot. The most perfunctory medical check would expose him for the impostor he was and see him sent off under heavy guard to the nearest enforcement center. Fortunately, the voiding slit was unoccupied when he stumbled into it.

It did not remain so for long.

Shorter than a male AAnn but wider of hip, the elegantly clad female who entered behind him started to turn away to allow the individual in front of her to finish his business un.o.bserved. Taking a second look at the slightly slumped male figure, she hesitated. His stance showed he was improperly positioned to properly void. Instead, he appeared to be leaning against the enclosing, curving wall for support. This insight instinctively suggested two possible courses of action. She could attack him while he was physically weakened and potentially gain status. Or she could demonstrate compa.s.sion, offer help, and perhaps gain the same. Much depended on how seriously he was incapacitated. If only a little, then a challenge would be worthwhile. If, however, his condition was serious, then an a.s.sault on another nye who was not in condition to fight back would cause her to lose merit.

Without having to turn to see her, Flinx sensed her confusion along with her presence. Despite the pain coursing through his skull he concentrated on calming Pip. The last thing he needed was for the flying snake to burst free from some unnatural opening in the simsuit to attack a startled pa.s.serby. In response to his silent urgings, Pip remained tightly wound around his right arm and made no move to defend him.

"Pssannch." He fought to stand upright and move away from the wall. "A falsse calling. The body playss trickss with digesstion. The sstation is yourss." He managed to straighten. The invisible gnomes mining for gold at the back of his skull continued their agonizing attempts at extraction. He fought to stand upright and move away from the wall. "A falsse calling. The body playss trickss with digesstion. The sstation is yourss." He managed to straighten. The invisible gnomes mining for gold at the back of his skull continued their agonizing attempts at extraction.

Intensely bright slitted eyes stared into his own. One eyelid closed briefly, then the second. "You look unwell, citizen."

Designed to accommodate one nye at a time, the voiding station made a single privacy bend as it cut deeply into the wall. It was very narrow and they were very close. He started to edge past her, remembering to finger the correct sensor so that his tail would not slap into her. Were it to do so, the action could be interpreted as either a challenge or an invitation to cla.s.sically violent AAnn cuddling-neither of which he wished to incite.

"A momentary pain. An old fighting injury, incurred againsst the bugss."

"Ahriinn!" She backed up, giving him as much room as possible to slide past. Soldiering was revered among the AAnn, with those who had seen action against their traditional enemies the thranx being held in the highest regard of all. "Iss there nothing I can do for you?" She backed up, giving him as much room as possible to slide past. Soldiering was revered among the AAnn, with those who had seen action against their traditional enemies the thranx being held in the highest regard of all. "Iss there nothing I can do for you?"

Her words could have been an attempt to promote more intimate interaction. At the risk of appearing impolite, he fought back the pain in his head as he stepped toward the winding walkway beyond.

"I am mated," he gasped weakly in her direction.

"Sso am I," the female responded. "I freely abjure reproduction."

"No time," he muttered. "Bachaanssk "Bachaanssk, and in addition to that I am late for duty." With his left arm he executed a second-degree gesture of appreciation and stumbled out onto the street.

The throbbing that threatened to tear his head off his shoulders finally began to subside. Thankfully, the female did not pursue, choosing instead to make use of the hygienic facility that had given him temporary refuge. He could feel Pip relax slightly against his arm, responding in kind as his own concern eased.

It had been a near thing. He decided then and there he would take no more such risks. He had done enough, had won the hand he had played, had more than achieved the outrageous goals he had set for himself when he had first decided to embark on the attempt. Having survived a teverravak in the most closely guarded, sacrosanct part of the entire Empire, he would not push his luck any further. The gamble had been well taken, the time judiciously spent. It confirmed to him that irrespective of species, what ultimately mattered was that the glow of intelligence be preserved. That was what was worth fighting for, no matter which political or racial ent.i.ty eventually came to dominate the galaxy. As a consequence he, Philip Lynx, would do his personal best to see that the ember of sentience continued to burn. No matter what he he was, no matter how he or anyone else defined him, he saw that he remained one with that purpose. was, no matter how he or anyone else defined him, he saw that he remained one with that purpose.

Thus strengthened in resolve, he loped along until he found the public transport that had originally brought him to this part of the great city. Entering the small automated vehicle, he ignored his fellow pa.s.sengers and turned to ease back into a support slot, taking care to ensure that his tail did not strike anyone nearby. Like the majority of his fellow travelers, save for the elderly or infirm, he disdained the use of the U-shaped fold-down seat, preferring to flaunt his health and fitness by standing for the duration of the journey. With one four-fingered hand he reached up and used a pointed claw to clean between several teeth. As it never became dirty, his perfectly rendered artificial dent.i.tion had no need of the attention, but the action helped him to blend in among the other pa.s.sengers.

At individually selected stops various AAnn stepped on or off the nearly silent vehicle. It took some fifteen minutes for the high-speed urban transport to reach the densely developed, heavily populated inurb where Flinx had taken lodgings. No one looked in his direction when he exited the public vehicle.

As he strode slowly toward the building where he had lived for the past ten days, he reflected that he now knew more about the day-to-day workings of the Imperial capital than those Commonwealth specialists who were considered to be the most knowledgeable on the subject. That the sectors where he had spent his time were of no military importance whatsoever did not mitigate his achievement. Working his way into and through the city subsequent to his unsanctioned arrival he had chosen the present quarter as his base of operations specifically because it could be defined by its ordinariness. Going about their daily tasks while dealing with no more than the minimal number of socially acceptable face-to-face challenges, mid-level AAnn generally avoided their neighbors and kept scrupulously to themselves.

While there were no trees, native Blasusarrian desert landscaping spotted the inurb's pedestrian pathways and buildings with patches of green, brown, and a festering dark blue bushy growth that was endemic to the planet's largest continent. Additional shades and shapes were present in the form of public sculpture and structural adornment. Though coated or imbued with the muted tones favored by the natives, there was no lack of color. While individualistic artisans were held in low regard, when it came to communal aesthetics the AAnn were a dynamic and inventive species. Perhaps no human knew that better than Flinx, who alone among his kind had spent time among their artists.

Examples of high-quality collective work took the form of bas-reliefs and sculptures that erupted from the sides of sprawling, low-lying residential complexes. Some were solid and inert, while others were displayed as elaborate wave-and-sound projections. Scenes from AAnn history and selective popular entertainment were the most common. As he turned down the next-to-the-last pathway, which led to the entrance to his building, he found himself smiling, as always, at an imbedded wave projection that depicted charismatically brave AAnn warriors attacking and overwhelming a primitive redoubt full of quaking humans. From a stylistic standpoint, at least, it appeared that cheap propaganda transcended origin anywhere in the galaxy.

Everything he had brought with him on his soon-to-be-terminated unsanctioned excursion fit neatly into a single AAnn back-and-belly pack. The Teacher Teacher had experienced no difficulty in reproducing a flawless example of the straightforward baggage from examples contained in its extensive library. Not one of the AAnn Flinx had encountered since his arrival and infiltration had stopped him to question the source of his luggage. If they had, he would simply have identified it as the creation of one of the Empire's more distant colony worlds. Just as within the Commonwealth, expansion of colonization on a galactic scale allowed for a comforting degree of anonymity in product as well as person. had experienced no difficulty in reproducing a flawless example of the straightforward baggage from examples contained in its extensive library. Not one of the AAnn Flinx had encountered since his arrival and infiltration had stopped him to question the source of his luggage. If they had, he would simply have identified it as the creation of one of the Empire's more distant colony worlds. Just as within the Commonwealth, expansion of colonization on a galactic scale allowed for a comforting degree of anonymity in product as well as person.

He would pick up his few belongings and begin to retrace his steps out of the city. A chartered automatic transport would take him to the remotest part of a nearby planetary park, a region of preserved and profound desolation little visited by those in whose interest it had been established. It was there he had been quietly dropped off by one of the Teacher's Teacher's masked shuttlecraft, and it was there that he would call and wait for pickup. He had survived his sojourn on the AAnn capital world and had learned a little more about himself. That and more would see him returning with fresh resolve to a previous decision now reinforced. He was once more certain of what he was going to do with the rest of his life. Rejuvenated and enlightened by the time spent on the AAnn homeworld, he was ready to leave. masked shuttlecraft, and it was there that he would call and wait for pickup. He had survived his sojourn on the AAnn capital world and had learned a little more about himself. That and more would see him returning with fresh resolve to a previous decision now reinforced. He was once more certain of what he was going to do with the rest of his life. Rejuvenated and enlightened by the time spent on the AAnn homeworld, he was ready to leave.

Blasusarr's intense sun was setting, turning what could be seen of the horizon above the low buildings a fiery yellow and the undersides of outmatched clouds a deepening rust red. At this time of day few nye were out walking. The notion of a casual evening stroll was an exercise that appealed to very few of them. Even in the absence of pedestrian traffic he was careful to keep to the paved right-hand path and out of the winding sand-filled causeway that dominated the center of the street. It was not unknown for aggressive, hormone-driven AAnn to resort to a favored ploy of their primitive ancestors by burying themselves in the sand, there to wait until the time came to erupt and confront potential adversaries who would not have time to avoid the consequent challenge.

As he turned the last corner before his residence, he spared a glance for the woven sand sculpture that marked the intersection of multiple pathways. Held erect and in place by hand-sketched magnetic fields, the braided streams of multicolored sand and flecks of local gemstone were recycled in continuously s.h.i.+fting patterns; the fountain spewed stone instead of water. Sunset's blush turned the spout's sunward side to shards of stuttering rainbow.

Both the automated manager and live concierge of his building would be sorry to see him go. Not only had he paid for his stay in advance with his carefully counterfeited Imperial credit, he had freely rented the least desirable quarters in the entire structure: high up and on the shady side of the building. His view of the inevitable desert garden and exterior sand-filled relaxation area was from above: practically from overhead. From an AAnn point of view, his rooms were totally undesirable.

He did not expect to see the concierge when he checked out, nor was it necessary for him to do so. As an out-system visitor intent on commercial business, such personal interaction was not only unnecessary but an open invitation to spontaneous challenge. Flinx was confident that the somewhat elderly concierge was as eager as himself to avoid any gratuitous final farewells.

So he was more than a little surprised to see the elder nye, slightly stooped from his species' version of scoliosis, standing just outside the entrance to the building where he presented himself open to challenge by any casual pa.s.serby. Despite the AAnn's present choice of location and stance, Flinx saw right away that such a potential confrontation was unlikely.

Not when the concierge had half a dozen or so armed enforcers cl.u.s.tered closely around him.

As far back as he could remember, Flinx had always had excellent reflexes. In Drallar, on Moth, they had helped to keep him always just out of reach of the local police. Later, as he had traveled from one end of the Commonwealth to the other, they had often been the difference between life and death. A second or two slower, a second or three later under threatening circ.u.mstances, and he might not be standing where he was now.

In the rapidly fading light of evening a human might easily have overlooked the approaching Flinx-but not an AAnn. The concierge was old, but he was not blind. Before Flinx could react to the presence of the enforcers and nip back out of sight, the Elder had spotted him. Flinx turned and bolted, but not in time.

Had he been on a Commonwealth or a disputed world he quite likely would have been dead. But on the Imperial homeworld the local enforcers of Status and Order did not carry lethal weapons. Provided proper etiquette was observed, social convention allowed for one citizen to slay another in the course of escalating one-on-one conflict, but the same lat.i.tude was not granted to the authorities. The paralyzing neuronic bursts that flared in his direction were designed to incapacitate, not to kill. Unfortunately, the similarity between human and AAnn nervous systems was such that if one of the shots being fired in his direction did happen to hit home, it would most a.s.suredly lay him out as flat and limp-tailed as any rightful resident of Krra.s.sin.

Complicating his flight were Pip's attempts to work her way free of the confining suit so that she could go to his defense. If at all possible, he needed to continue to keep her existence a secret. Just because it appeared that he had been turned in to the city authorities did not mean they knew their quarry was a masquerading human. It was much more likely that the concierge or automated manager had discovered that the line of Imperial credit he had been using was forged. Or perhaps, despite the individualized burrow security he had employed to secure his quarters, one of the dwellings' maintenance workers had discovered something incriminating in his luggage. While minimal in number and inconspicuous in size, he had had brought with him certain personal accoutrements whose origin could not be disguised. The presence among a visitor's effects of certain objects of non-AAnn manufacture would be sufficient in and of themselves to inspire a further investigation. brought with him certain personal accoutrements whose origin could not be disguised. The presence among a visitor's effects of certain objects of non-AAnn manufacture would be sufficient in and of themselves to inspire a further investigation.

His mastery of the AAnn language might have enabled him to explain away the presence of the latter. But if the enforcers were there to pick him up for forgery, no amount of clever words would suffice to preserve his freedom. He would be hauled in for interrogation. Trapped within his clever coc.o.o.n, he would be able to keep his true ident.i.ty confidential only until he was slipped under the first medical scanner. That was a risk he could not take-and so he ran. The loss of his personal effects did not trouble him. Regardless of value, inanimate objects could always be replaced.

He was a fast runner and in excellent condition. But the suit slowed him, having to keep a tight rein on Pip slowed him further, and the AAnn were accomplished runners in their own right. Free of the simsuit he might outrun them, at least over a distance. If he removed the suit, however, he might as well surrender now and save his wind. In the confines of the Imperial capital city an exposed human would not last out the night. Not only did the suit provide some measure of visual anonymity, it also masked his distinctive human scent.

He could hear them closing fast, hissing and shouting encouragement to one another. If he ducked into a park or building, they would act quickly to seal off the area, or else some resident was likely to point him out. There was one other option.

He stopped and turned to face them.

Half closing his eyes, Flinx called on his Talent as he strove to project. It was a technique he had used before, on everything from fellow humans to other sentients to lower orders of animals. As the weapons-wielding enforcers closed in on his unmoving shape he strained to cast fear in their direction, to coat their alien reptiloid minds with a thin but disquieting layer of alarm.

It was not working. Through his squint he could see that they were not slowing in their advance. Weapons aimed forward, tails snapping whiplike from side to side, they would be on him in seconds. So close had they drawn that they did not fire. They saw no reason to do so, since in less than a minute they would be able to throw down the citizen under suspicion and pin him to the ground.

Fear was a powerful emotion. It was one that required maximum exertion on his part to successfully deploy. But though this effort failed, he retained other options. Experience had taught him to always be ready to utilize a different approach. He could not render his foe fearful. Very well: he would try something else.

Not twenty meters from Flinx the first enforcer suddenly began to slow. Double eyelids blinking, she lowered her weapon to her side as she came to a gradual halt. Her tail stopped switching. A second enforcer drew up alongside her. Bemused, he found himself staring down at his own gun. One by one they were joined by the rest of the flas.h.i.+ly uniformed patrol. Querulous phrases of soft bafflement were exchanged. Dropping down into the distinctive AAnn squat, one enforcer methodically began taking his weapon apart. Next to him his companion started to disrobe.

After considerable trial and error in the course of his frantic life Flinx had discovered that confusion was much easier to project than fear.

Turning, he resumed his flight. How long the mental projection he had laid upon his pursuers would last he did not know. He never knew. The time frame was as unpredictable as everything else about his Talent. It didn't matter. Their befuddlement need last only long enough for him to get away.