Patrimony

by Alan Dean Foster

  The rented skimmer was not as fast as his own, nor as straightforward in its construction and controls, but it was built with an eye toward the terrain and climate where it was deployed. The familiar transparent plexalloy shield was heavier than usual and double-strength, both to protect against the weather and to further insulate passengers from it. A purely utilitarian vehicle, the unstylish craft was intended to convey people and cargo from coordinate A to coordinate B efficiently and without lugging any false pretensions along with it. Squat and unlovely, it would have drawn no admiring gazes on any developed world. Faster, flashier models were also available from the rental company, all of which Flinx spurned. As always, the less attention he drew to himself, the better he liked it.

  Though indigenous escorts were available for hire in Tlossene itself, the agency that had rented him the skimmer suggested he contribute to the human-Tlel economy by engaging one from any of several outlying towns. With nothing to recommend a particular village over another, he logically chose the one that lay along the route his skimmer was going to follow anyway.

  With the rented craft stocked with the limited supplies he would need for the journey, he performed a perfunctory routine check of its functions, made sure its internal vorec was properly keyed to his voice, set a bowl of treats on the floor for an eager Pip, and, with the minidrag munching away, directed the skimmer to lift off from the roof of the rental facility (one of the few nondomed structures in Tlossene) and head northwest to the town of Sluuvaneh. Ten minutes into the flight, assured that the craft was performing efficiently, he allowed himself to relax and spoon his way through one of the self-contained, self-heating meals stocked in the vehicle’s stores.

  The country through which he was soon traveling was as beautiful and pristine as it was alien. Once beyond the last suburb of Tlossene, the semi-urbanized landscape quickly gave way to what a human would have described as unbroken boreal forest—albeit one that was twisted, angular, and all too blue. Gentle hillsides gave way to more rugged slopes cut by streams that were alternately rushing and raging. Gestalt’s denser atmosphere did nothing to inhibit the wild white water below. Given the planet’s modest and widely dispersed population, both human and native, he was not surprised by the absence of roadways. Transport by skimmer and aircraft negated the need for investment in such impractical and expensive infrastructure.

  Ranging from a familiar subdued green to a startling deep azure in hue, some of the tree-like growths whose tops his vehicle skimmed were well over a hundred meters in height. Few branched in Terran fashion. Instead they tended to conserve such efforts until their respective crowns were reached, whereupon each growth exploded outward like the tip of a used firecracker. Below these heights, thickets of lowlier growths fought for soil, space, and access to sunlight. When cruising over more open terrain, Flinx sought in vain for a glimpse of a single flower.

  He did, however, espy some local fauna. Several times, flocks of slender-winged flying creatures with long, straight beaks altered course to avoid crashing into the skimmer or being overtaken by it. In keeping with the somberness of their surroundings, they tended to range in color from gray to black. On the other hand the herd of wackensia, as the skimmer’s limited-knowledge AI identified them, were boldly striped in turquoise and mauve. They fled from the skimmer’s shadow on multiple legs, their flexible cropping mouths flapping with their rippling gait, reminding him of shorter, less aggressive variants on the carnivorous kasollt that had confronted him at the shuttleport.

  As he traveled farther from Tlossene, he gained altitude. Peaks that had been distant from the city drew gradually nearer. The distinctive heliotropic tinge to the snows that covered their crests was unlike anything he had encountered elsewhere. Some unique mineralization, he mused, that ascended with evaporation or transpiration only to precipitate out again as pink snow. With more pressing matters on his mind than local atmospheric chemistry, he did not bother to query the skimmer’s AI for a more detailed explanation. Shifting his attention back to his current qwikmeal, he dug his spoon into the steaming bowl of mixed vegetables and meat of an uncertain origin.

  It would not do to confront on an empty stomach the man who might or might not be his father.

  CHAPTER 4

  The town of Sluuvaneh was no primitive assemblage of smoking huts and hand-tilled fields. While the size of the majority of small, domed, pastel-hued buildings clearly marked them as individual residences, there were also a number of distinctive larger structures whose functions Flinx could not immediately identify from the air. One boasted an impressive field of antennae of varying shape and size. Local communications center, he speculated. Others suggested the presence of low-level or boutique manufacturing facilities. At least two landing sites for visiting vehicles were clearly marked out. Both featured large structures—domed, of course—intended to provide protection from the elements for local vehicles as well as offer temporary shelter for visiting craft. Buildings and touchdown pads were immaculate, free of debris, and as contemporary as any counterpart on more populous Commonwealth worlds.

  His approach had been monitored by local traffic control ever since his rented skimmer had crossed Sluuvaneh municipal limits. Automated instructions directed him to set down at the northernmost of the two welcoming ovals. Communicating with his skimmer’s AI, local navigation as efficient and current as anything in Tlossene took control of his craft. Guiding it smoothly into one of the beckoning hangars, it parked the arrival neatly between a pair of slightly smaller craft. One of these looked brand new while the other sat beaten and battered on its charging pad, badly in need of an update and refurbishing.

  Not being a government representative, a deliverer of goods, or in any other way significant, Flinx’s arrival was not met. For all anyone in Sluuvaneh cared, he was welcome to sit in his skimmer until his supplies ran out. As near as he could perceive, there were not even any emotions aimed in his direction. Gathering up Pip, he checked to make sure his translator was activated as he exited the rented transport.

  As it developed, even the translator was not necessary. Many of the town’s Tlel inhabitants spoke terranglo, he soon learned. Sometimes broken, sometimes more a variety of local pidgin than grammatically correct, but consistently comprehensible. After chatting with a couple of workers at the landing area, he turned off the translator altogether. It appeared that engaging a native escort to accompany him for the few days’ travel it would take to reach the man who might, just might, be his natural father was going to be even easier and more straightforward than he had imagined. If only his intermittent headaches didn’t put him in a hospital before that meeting could take place. Though he had yet to master the problem, he had lived long enough to realize that the impatience that led to stress was more dangerous to him than a boatload of zealously upwardly mobile AAnn. Stress, he reminded himself, that invariably fertilized the slightest tingle and throb at the back of his head.

  Given its location and the smaller stature of its inhabitants, the streets of Sluuvaneh were both wider and better maintained than he had anticipated. The town was an idiosyncratic amalgamation of traditional native design and advanced Commonwealth technology. As with a great many of its sibling communities scattered around the planet, it might be isolated physically, but its inhabitants were in constant contact with the planetary Shell and related support facilities. Just one example took the form of the conventional automated navigation facility that had taken control of Flinx’s skimmer as soon as it entered the relevant traffic zone and guided it to a perfect, gentle touchdown.

  The robotic personal transport vehicle that conveyed him to the town center was similar to many he had ridden on other worlds, with the exception that half the seats had been removed. They had been replaced by Tlelian floor pads to better accommodate traveling natives. As there were no human or Tlel residents requiring transport from the landing site at the particular moment when he stepped up onto the transport platform, he ended up having the vehicle all to h
imself as it pulled away from the loading area.

  Almost immediately, Flinx’s vehicle was humming along down a street that separated neatly aligned rows of domed, brightly colored Tlel homes and businesses. Confirming their presence in the community, a few humans were out walking, but unlike the case of the much larger and more cosmopolitan Tlossene, he saw no evidence to suggest the presence of any other Commonwealth species. Sluuvaneh, apparently, was too unimportant to attract even Tolians.

  It took several minutes of cruising through town for it to register on him that no street or byway was perfectly straight or sharply angled. From domed houses to curvilinear avenues, something in Tlel custom, it appeared, mitigated against straight lines. He found himself wondering if he would find himself held in better regard if he slouched. Pip’s appearance, at least, ought to engender nothing but admiration. Lethal or not, she was all curves.

  Information obtained in Tlossene led him to the Tlel equivalent of the local chamber of commerce. It was something of a shock to see Tlel, clad in their often transparent or translucent outer attire and colorful leggings, operating the same kind of equipment one would find on Moth or Earth. While some species had to have human- or thranx-designed instrumentation re-engineered to fit their individual anatomical requirements, the clusters of prehensile cilia located at the ends of long Tlel arms had no difficulty operating controls intended to be manipulated by thicker, clumsier human fingers or chitinous thranx digits.

  As he strode deeper into the building, he was conscious of needing a shower. On the other hand, since the Tlel had no sense of smell, his human body odor was unlikely to offend anyone other than himself. If not his scent, then did his body’s electrical field precede him? How far from his epidermis did it extend, and at what distance could it be perceived by a Tlel? How did they distinguish between the fields of a living creature and, say, that of a battery-powered communit? Did the presence of electronics confuse them in the same way that releasing a liter of perfume into a room would overwhelm the olfactory senses of any humans within? Could one sense be considered superior to the other as a means of sampling and evaluating one’s immediate environment?

  No need to burden himself with such questions, he told himself firmly, when there were other matters that foremost demanded his attention.

  There were no barriers, no internal walls within the building. Where humans would favor individual work cubicles, the Tlel clearly preferred unobstructed lines of sight. Swallowing and steeling himself against the overpowering stench, he ignored the paired reek of the duo of busy Tlel he approached. As soon as they acknowledged his presence, he proceeded to state his purpose. He spoke in terranglo, slowly and clearly, ready to resort to his translator if his words were not understood.

  “My name is Philip Ly—Skua Mastiff. I’m a visiting researcher from offworld who is heading into the northlands. I have a skimmer and supplies and I need an escort.” He gazed at the two horizontal eyebands that were, he presumed, staring in his direction. The sensation was more akin to eyeing a pair of dark-tinted mirrors than a set of eyes. That their owners were aware of his presence and listening to him could not be denied, however. Their emotions confirmed this.

  It was soon clear that he would not need his translator. One of the two workers advanced toward him. As well as the high, narrow ears that protruded from the rear of the disc-like skull, half the black-and-white hairs atop its head were inclined sharply in Flinx’s direction. These upper specialized growths were what were giving their owner a “picture” of the human’s electrical field. The longer, more flexible appendages beneath the jaw must be employed in feeding, Flinx decided. Opening its wide, flattened mouth, the native exposed the opposing layers of hardened, shiny, horn-like masticating material within. The words that emerged were decipherable, if more than a little mangled by the Tlel’s vocal apparatus.

  “Which uv yu is the dominant?”

  “Which…?” Glancing down, Flinx saw that Pip had stuck her head out from beneath his jacket and was subjecting the expansive work area to serious inspection. “I am,” he replied, adding a probably useless smile. “That is, I am unless she objects.” Pip eyed her master quizzically and, conveniently, said nothing.

  “Yu are heading tu the north.” As he spoke, the first speaker’s associate was busily manipulating the controls of a portable console. Taking notes, Flinx wondered—or checking to see if he was wanted by the authorities? The highly developed sense of paranoia that had kept him in good stead since he was a child functioned whether he wanted it to or not. “What is yur purposepurpose?” The Tlel’s tone was flat and almost stern. Flinx stiffened slightly.

  “As I said, I’m a researcher, working for an offworld firm. My work involves traveling around and interviewing individuals who fit a certain social and psychological pattern.”

  “Clalak,” the official coughed. “Would yu like tu interview me?”

  “Uh, I’m only here to interview human residents.”

  “Is something wrongwrong with my kind, that yu du not want tu interview me?” Swaying slightly on its pair of blocky feet, the Tlel leaned purposefully toward him. “Does it have something maybe tu du with this incomprehensible perceptive ability yur kind call ‘smell’?”

  “It’s got nothing to do with that,” Flinx replied hastily. Unsettled, he struggled to explain further. “It’s just that—”

  He broke off. While he could not understand the odd sequential noises the two officials were presently uttering, their emotional state was open to him without the need for translation. In contrast with the standoffishness their words conveyed, he thought he could detect a lightness of being combined with a certain distinct ease and air of…air of…

  They were laughing at him.

  He could not indicate that he knew that, of course. So he simply stood silently and waited for the speaker to resume his end of the conversation.

  “Forgive bad manners,” the official told him. “We want yu tu understand that there is not muchmuch fur those in ur position tu du here in outside-city way station community like Sluuvaneh. Therefur we must find ur entertainment where we can. It is a thing Tlel share with yur kind. Be confident no offending is intended.”

  “None taken,” Flinx assured him—or her. He still was not confident of his ability to distinguish between the sexes, not even on an emotional level.

  After having added little to the ongoing verbal exchange, the second official stepped forward. His eyeband continued to focus on the device he held gripped securely in more than two dozen flexible cilia.

  “Yu swearswear by the law-givings uv the Tlel as well as yur own government, that which is called the Commonwealth, that yu are come tu Tlossene and thence tu Sluuvaneh fur no illegal purpose, and that yur intentions are honorable and in keeping with allall local traditions, customs, and courtesies.”

  “I du,” Flinx replied with a straight face.

  The specialized fur atop the second official’s head rippled like burned grain in a breeze. Flinx knew there were devices that could detect when a person was lying by analyzing minute fluctuations in an individual’s electrical field when he was made to answer specific questions. Could the Tlel do so naturally? If so, they might by their very nature be one of the more honest species in the Commonwealth.

  For whatever reason, the interrogating speaker fiddled with his (Flinx had by now decided both of his interrogators were male) device until it projected a three-dimensional image accompanied by simple Tlelian script. Rotating the result, he made certain it was clearly visible to the visitor. As Flinx eyed the projection, it rotated slowly above the instrument, giving him a 360-degree view of the subject. The image was that of a differently attired Tlel.

  “This is escort Bleshmaa, whu is experienced but not aged, with knowledge uv where yu desire tu go. Standard rates apply, with applicable commission tu the town general account.”

  Flinx had never before chosen an alien companion from looking at its image. Given his limited knowledge of Tlelia
n convention, it seemed as good a method as any. After all, he was relying on these two officials for help and advice. If they vouched for this Bleshmaa, that should be good enough for him. In lieu of any obvious alternatives, it would have to be.

  “Very well. I accept the recommendation and thank you for your help. Where and when can I meet this gentleman?”

  More airy emoting accompanied a reprise of the previous amused gargling. “Bleshmaa is notnot gentleman.”

  There were indeed, he noted a few minutes later as the escort he had agreed to engage left her workstation and ambled over to join them, subtle differences between male and female Tlel. In contrast with humans, sexual dimorphism was not as blatant but, once understood, was easy to recognize.

  Clad in the by now familiar transparent vest and elaborately decorated leggings, Bleshmaa had a neck shorter than those of the Tlel whom Flinx knew to be male. An unobtrusive difference, but one that he learned was common and consistent among the locals. Though just as flat as those of her male counterparts, his escort’s skull was not as wide. Personal adornment was restricted to the same kind of cosmetic fur-tinting that was practiced equally by both sexes. The lower portion of the body tended to broaden out as it approached the upper legs.

  “I am Bleshmaa.” Like a loading bucket on the end of a small crane, one cilium-tipped limb rose toward him. A handful of worms encircled his proffered fingers to complete the approximation of a primate handshake. The gesture was not unexpected. Humans, he knew, had been living alongside the Tlel for a long time. The cilia contracted gently. It was like shaking hands with a warm-blooded squid. When it was over, the digits did not so much withdraw as slide off his fingers.

  “Nice to meet you.” He hesitated, then added helpfully, “You can call me Flinx. It’s an old nickname.”