Reunion (Pip and Flinx)

by Alan Dean Foster

  Mahnahmi pointed. “Now wait a minute,” Flinx began. He had no love for the assassin, or for her employer, but the unspoken implications passing between them amounted to a vow of suicide on the part of the former. He said as much. His words did not give the taller woman pause. Before he could finish enumerating his points, she had vanished into the depths of the upper corridor.

  “She hasn’t got a chance,” he murmured. “They’ll kill her.”

  “Of course they will.” The blonde’s lithe loveliness did nothing to mute the chill in her voice. “She will die a true Qwarm, defending her employer. It is how they would all seek to die. All the better for us, hmm?” With that she headed off to their right. “There are at least two other corridors over this way that might lead us back to the lock while enabling us to avoid this annoying dilemma.”

  He would have argued further, but the Qwarm was out of sight and out of earshot, and he could feel the AAnn drawing steadily closer. Uncomfortable at the turn of events but unable to reverse them, he followed in his sister’s wake.

  “They were here, honored sir.” The tech reading one of the life-form sensors was transiting the compact device slowly back and forth. “They’re sstill moving, but in an oppossite direction.” She looked up from the instrument. “I ssurmisse that ssome of them are trying to circle around behind uss in an attempt to reach the lock without interference, while one or more remain in the immediate vicinity in an attempt to engage our attention.”

  “Dssasst—it is what I would do.” Voocim was not surprised. If the humans they were tracking were half-witted, they would never have made it this far into Imperial space. Pulling her communicator, she advised those on board the Sstakoun’s waiting shuttlecraft as well as those currently stationed on board the human’s shuttle to be alert in case their quarry should succeed in their attempt. She did not think the warning necessary, but she was nothing if not thorough. They would run these humans to ground long before they could reach the lock.

  That is what she believed, anyway, until the smaller signal they were closing on dropped from its place of concealment high up in the ceiling to land in the midst of the pursuit team, firing methodically as it fell. In the controlled chaos that ensued, two of Voocim’s party perished in a flurry of destruction and one was badly wounded before the single human could be slain.

  Breathing hard, Voocim knelt on powerful hind legs to examine one of several severed and badly damaged alien body parts. “Female. A very motile sspecimen.” She added a gesture indicative of second-degree animosity underscored by third-level admiration. “Where iss the head?”

  “Over here, Commander!” another trooper shouted.

  Voocim took a moment to examine the skull, but it yielded no clues as to the nature or determination of their quarry. Hopefully, the remaining humans would not prove to be as dangerous. Leaving the bodies of the dead troopers to be recovered later, she ordered her party to accelerate the pursuit. Next time, they would be the ones to shoot first.

  Briony’s death having bought them precious minutes, Flinx and Mahnahmi succeeded in reaching the lock without incident.

  “They’re coming faster.” Flinx stood concentrating, eyes half closed. “We’ve got five, maybe ten minutes before they arrive.”

  “I know that!” Perspiration plastered strands of his sibling’s long golden hair to her neck and shoulders. “You’re not the only one who can monitor the emotions of others.” Crouching low behind a perfectly matched series of dully gleaming alien cylinders, she contemplated the spacious sweep of the air lock. Stars glittered invitingly beyond the transparent barrier. Parked side by side were the shuttle from the AAnn warship and the one from the Crotase. The armed reptilian figure standing in the open serviceway of the Crotase’s shuttle flourished a slender, deadly rifle and an actively twitching tail.

  “Our options are restricted.” She eyed him expectantly. “Where is your ship?”

  “I didn’t come in a shuttle,” he told her. “Individual orbital service module.”

  Her eyebrows arched as she scanned his face. “Individual?”

  “You’re not too big. We can probably both fit inside. It’ll be cramped, and will put a strain on the life-support system, but should suffice for a short, quick flight. The trick will be to avoid being blown up on the way out.”

  She nodded understandingly. “If these ancient alien automatics act with consistency, the lock will let us out as soon as it senses our approach. If that happens, even if our flight is detected the AAnn will need time to seal both shuttles. They can notify their warship of our actions, of course, but as you say, it’s a short flight. By the time they decide on a course of action, we might be able to make it to your ship. It mounts defenses, I presume?”

  “Some.” His laconic response was deliberately uninformative. “Our chances for continued survival will certainly be infinitely better on board the Teacher than they are sitting here waiting for pursuit to arrive.”

  “Then let’s not waste any more time. Where’s the module?”

  Keeping his head down, he began to scuttle sideways, the young woman following close on his heels. They were not seen by the AAnn, who were focused on the central and largest of the three portals that led into the depths of the artifact. The soldiers had been told that according to current life-form readings, the band of human fugitives was quite small. The idea that such a group might try to overpower and take control of one of the shuttles seemed absurd. Nevertheless, those guarding the two craft remained on active alert.

  Not active enough to detect the two figures scurrying along the far wall of the expansive lock, however. Keeping to cover, of which there was plenty, Flinx and Mahnahmi made it to the cluster of tall, vaguely globular constructs where he had hidden the unpretentious but efficient transport. It was just as he had left it: nose pointed outward, canopy retracted.

  Activating it via the remote on his belt, he watched as the interior telltales winked to life. “Get in,” he told her. “Try to scrunch up in back as much as you can. Once I lie down facing the controls, you can uncurl and try to make a little more room for yourself.”

  “Sure, I can handle that.” Climbing into the narrow, tight-fitting space, she crouched down against the rear of the small cargo area. It was intended to hold a few personal effects, not another person, and it just barely did accommodate her lissome form.

  Flinx started to join her when a burst of intense dislike flooded his mind. At the same time, something struck his right knee hard enough to send flashes of pain up his leg and over his eyes. He stumbled backward, clutching at the injured knee. Even before he hit the ground, a soft hum indicated that the transport module’s canopy was closing.

  Her boot. With all the high-tech weapons he had avoided these past weeks, with all the death-dealing devices devised by the science of multiple species he had dodged, he had finally been undone by a swift kick from a sharp-toed boot. Had the blow been struck by anyone else he likely would have seen it coming and in his anticipation, avoided it. But he had forgotten that while Mahnahmi was not only skilled at sensing the emotions of others, she might also be adept at concealing her own. So used had he become to sensing animosity and therefore threats in others that he had grown careless. It was no comfort to realize that Pip had not sensed the danger either. When at last it had poured out of her in sheer, undiluted strength, it had done so simultaneously with the blow she had struck, giving him no time to prepare.

  By the time he had struggled to his feet, limping slightly on his throbbing leg, the canopy was shut and sealed. Pip was aloft, darting and fluttering, seeking an enemy to strike. That enemy was protected behind a layer of transparent, photosensitive plexalloy not even the minidrag’s venom could penetrate.

  One hand resting just above his aching knee, he stared in at her. Her voice could not reach him, of course, but he could read her lips as she thoughtfully mouthed a few final words for his benefit.

  “Sorry—I need this.” And she added, by way of final, sar
donic farewell, “Brother.”

  “Why?” he yelled at her. She could not hear him and, if she could read his lips, chose to give no reply. How terrible the fright, he thought. How horrific the suspicion and mistrust must be to drive her to fear everyone around her—especially the one person in the inhabited Arm who at least held out the possibility of empathy and understanding.

  Purring softly, the transport module powered up, forcing him to retreat beyond reach of its drive. As soon as it rose from its temporary nest among the alien globes and oblongs, there was a noticeable increase in activity on both shuttles. Flinx had no time to stand and watch.

  He made it back through the nearest inner portal before his presence was noted by the AAnn on either shuttle. If consternation and confusion combined to slow reaction time among the sentinels, Mahnahmi might well make it clear of the artifact. What she would do then he could not predict, save that it surely would not be orthodox. She would be one young woman alone and unarmed, forced to confront a captured KK-drive vessel and an armed Imperial warship.

  He almost felt sorry for the unsuspecting AAnn.

  With all means of flight now denied him, and a party of irritated AAnn troops in close pursuit, he had no time to spare for contemplating anyone else’s course of action. Of one thing he was certain: He could not stay where he was in the hope that some miracle would deliver him back to the waiting Teacher. Displeased at the one prospect remaining to him but having no other obvious options and no time to ponder possibilities, he turned away from the lock and retreated back into the unfamiliar depths of the inscrutable artifact.

  Chapter 18

  Commander Voocim was not pleased. Already, she had lost two troopers and had had one put out of action because of the unexpected behavior of a suicidal human. Now at least one other remained at liberty within the artifact, while a third had somehow managed to escape the snare that had been set to trap the fugitives in the docking bay.

  Nissasst, she told herself. It was only a temporary irritation. The human who remained on the artifact would soon be apprehended, while the one who had managed the remarkable feat of fleeing into space would shortly see that effort come to naught. Already, Voocim had been advised that the first human had taken flight in a small service module or capsule capable only of traveling between orbiting vessels. Its solitary passenger would soon fetch up alongside either the Sstakoun or the captured Commonwealth ship, where it would then easily be taken into custody.

  If Voocim was impatient to terminate the foolish human maneuvering, which after all could only have one conclusion, the two senior scientists accompanying her were even more vocal in their desire for it to come to an end.

  “Thiss iss outrageouss, truly,” Tenukac declared. “The mosst important sscientific disscovery of the lasst two Imperial agess, and here we are forced to delay our sstudiess until a few renegade, intruding humanss are taken into cusstody.”

  “Thiss delay will be included in our official report.” The female Nennasu’s chosen inflection was designed to indicate her displeasure.

  “As you pleasse.” Voocim added a gesture of second degree contempt—Tenukac sputtered when he saw it. “Thiss iss sstill a military expedition and will remain ssuch until I officially releasse you to practice your trade. Barring any more ssurprisess or noxiouss interruptionss, I promisse you that moment will arrive sshortly.”

  “I sshould hope sso!” With that, Nennasu and her exasperated mate subsided, for which Voocim was more than moderately grateful.

  They continued to close ground on the remaining human. It could not run forever, the commander knew. She was looking forward to interrogating so energetic and elusive a specimen. By now most humans would have realized the hopelessness of their position and submitted to the inevitable. Active though it might be, the mammal could not get off the artifact or escape the efficient technicians’ relentless tracking instrumentation. Very soon, Voocim believed, it would slow, turn, and hopefully capitulate without making any more trouble. The AAnn commander had no need to remind her soldiers to be wary of a potential suicidal reprise by yet another disgruntled target. She still very much hoped to take it alive.

  On board the occupied Crotase, Officer Dysseen was apprised by a subofficer of the impending arrival of the tiny craft.

  “We have hailed the module and received no ressponsse.” The AAnn’s eyes flexed expectantly. “Itss approach iss being monitored by the Sstakoun’s predictorss. The interior iss generating a life-form ssignal conssisstent with the pressence of a ssingle human occupant, though the ssignal iss exceptionally weak and givess indication of fading. There iss no indication the craft iss armed or carrying hazardouss or explossive material. The Sstakoun wisshes to know if it sshould be desstroyed.”

  Dysseen considered. “There iss nothing ssupiciouss or evassive about itss approach arc?”

  “No, honored ssir,” the subofficer reported. “It iss converging on a sstraight heading for thiss vessel’ss lock.”

  The senior officer gestured third-degree understanding. “Allow it to arrive and dock. Monitor it clossely at all timess. We now have control of thiss sship’ss limited weaponss’ ssysstemss. If thiss vehicle beginss to exhibit deviant behavior, eliminate it. If not, access itss interior immediately ssubssequent to itss arrival and bring the occupant to me.”

  The subofficer saluted, adding an extra fifth-degree gesture of respect, and left, leaving Dysseen to meditate on the unanticipated arrival. Guidance confirmed that the solo vehicle had recently departed the surface of the alien artifact. Clearly, it contained one of the fugitive spies who had been pursued by Commander Voocim. Its fleeing occupant would not find a sympathetic welcome waiting for it on the Commonwealth vessel. Apprehension of the single fugitive would be a routine matter. He turned his mind to other business.

  The subofficer in charge of the capture party waited impatiently for the air in the lock to cycle through. Immediately following the all-clear and the separation of seals, he led his trio of troopers quickly toward the tiny vehicle. Everyone held their weapons at the ready, alert for any deceptions or tricks. Following the subofficer’s directions, they spread out to flank the slim craft and waited for its occupant to emerge.

  When the canopy slid back, the subofficer advanced cautiously, preceded by the muzzle of his rifle. Within the craft’s cockpit lay a single human. Female, and based on the subofficer’s limited knowledge of humankind, recently entered into maturity. Carefully, he prodded the prone figure with the tip of his weapon. It did not stir.

  One of the troopers was equipped with a field medical pack. Hurrying forward in response to the subofficer’s gesture, she ran a basal prognosticator over the motionless shape.

  “No heartbeat, no resspiration in progress. There iss ssome ssuggesstion of E-pattern activity, but brain functionss appear to be virtually nonexisstent.”

  “Paralyssiss.” The subofficer grunted noncommittally as he slung his rifle across his back. “Bring it.”

  “If it iss dead, or nearly sso,” the soldier observed, “why not ssimply dump it into sspace?”

  “Even a dead sspy iss proof of sspying. In any event, the decission is not ourss to make. Bring it, and I will conssult with Supervissing Officer Dysseen.”

  Hissing their displeasure, but not sharply enough to incur the subofficer’s wrath, two of the troopers lifted the limp, unresisting figure out of the transport. It was not heavy. Deciding how best to proceed, each slipped a limp human arm over their shoulders, thus supporting it in an upright position. The apparently defunct organism hung slackly between them. Its head, enveloped in unfettered strands of gold-colored keratin, hung toward the floor from the flexible neck while each of its soft, pulpy arms dangled on either side of a scaly, uniformed shoulder.

  They were halfway to the bridge, having passed a number of their colleagues in the corridors, when the two soldiers supporting the corpse decided to adjust its position. As one arm sprawled limply across the back of one trooper, the drooping five-fingered ha
nd clutched convulsively around the shank of a pendant rifle. Fingers slid through the trigger guard to cover the activator. Since the weapon was slung muzzle upward, the resulting shot when two of those fingers contracted messily removed the back of the weapon owner’s skull.

  As the trooper collapsed, dead before he struck the deck, the human spun away from her other startled supporter while ripping the weapon that had just been fired from his deceased companion’s back. A second shot blew a gaping hole in the other soldier. Meanwhile, both the subofficer and the surviving trooper were just sufficiently stunned by the speed of the “dead” human’s reaction that their responses were slightly slower than usual. Two more salvos, aimed and fired with unhuman dexterity and swiftness, completed the hasty trashing of the reptilian escort.

  Without pausing to see if they were dead, a startlingly revivified Mahnahmi raced in the direction of the Crotase’s brig. Confirmed in her assumption that arriving AAnn would first take control of her ship before landing soldiers on the artifact, she had taken the precaution of playing dead as a precondition of returning to her vessel. Subsequent developments had confirmed the wisdom of her decision. That she was possessed of certain unique abilities that enabled her to play dead better than perhaps any other member of her species had greatly facilitated the headway she had made thus far.

  The last thing the sluggish solo guard posted outside the Crotase’s brig expected to encounter was a reason for his posting. That he realized this too late gained him no respite from Mahnahmi’s unswerving attack. Within minutes she had freed the rest of her surviving crew, whose consolidated presence she had sensed from several decks below. All were present save one unfortunate engineer who had previously given rash voice to his sentiments in the presence of the AAnn commander.

  Mahnahmi had moved so rapidly that the stunned escort she had coldly and efficiently liquidated still lay where they had fallen in the corridor. Arming themselves with the assortment of available AAnn weapons, the competent crew of the Crotase proceeded to quietly eliminate one unsuspecting trooper after another. By the time the AAnn were alerted to the unexpected insurrection in their midst, it was too late. Two more of Mahnahmi’s crew died in the ensuing battle for control of the Crotase. Their loss saddened her because it meant the ship would not be run as efficiently on the journey homeward.