Mid-Flinx (Pip and Flinx)

by Alan Dean Foster

  What was the critical third component of the triad?

  Damnably persistent dream!

  How many millennia before the threat made itself dangerously proximate? Or was Time nothing more than an indifferent observer here, to be paid off with cheap visceral reaction and hastily cast aside? When was too late? he wondered.

  When he was no longer available to participate?

  He’d spend some time with Teal, he told himself. Help her the rest of the way to her home, spend some time with her people, study and enjoy this world, and then depart. Back to Moth, perhaps. A place he could understand, comprehend. Or maybe Terra, or New Riviera, worlds where mind as well as body could find rest. Worlds that wouldn’t torment him with incomprehensible dream scenarios on a cosmic scale, that wouldn’t try to fix him with unwanted, impossible responsibilities.

  Gingerly he felt his head. There was no pain, no lingering side effects, no dreaded pounding. As was to be expected if all had been nothing more than an elaborate dream.

  If only he could forget some of it, any of it, even a little of it.

  Teal’s smile had faded and she was sitting up now, inspecting his face with concern. “Are you sure you’re all right, Flinx? You look—strange.”

  “Just a dream.” He forced a smile of his own.

  She responded hesitantly but hopefully. “Many dream deep while under the influence of disiwin. Was it a good dream?”

  “I don’t know.” He brought his knees up to his chest. “I don’t know if it was a good dream or a bad dream. All I know for sure is that it was a big dream. Food for thought.”

  “ ‘Food for thought,’ ” she repeated. Then she nodded knowingly. “Ah! You have had a vision. They are also a consequence of drinking disiwin.”

  “I’ve had something,” he told her. “I’m just not sure what.”

  “A vision is a blessing.”

  He looked at her sharply. “Believe me, I’d be more than happy to share this one. Have you had visions, Teal?”

  “Oh, yes!” Her expression turned wistful. “Of flying, of fighting a baranop, of other people’s children. What was your vision like?”

  “It’s not easy to describe. It concerned something I may—have to do.”

  “Have to do? But why?”

  He looked away, out over the depression in the forest, at the fliers and gliders and brilliant-winged inhabitants of the canopy. “Because there may not be anyone else able to do it. I don’t particularly want to do this thing, I might very well be able to avoid doing it, but I’m afraid I may have no choice.”

  “Having an important vision confers responsibility.” Shifting on the branch, she sat next to him and put her arm around his shoulders. There was nothing sexual about it, nothing even especially friendly. She was just holding him, trying to help even though she didn’t, couldn’t, understand. It made him feel worthy in a way the disiwin dream had not.

  He couldn’t linger, he knew. Not because of the dream, but because there was something inside him that was always pulling him on, dragging him to the next world, the next experience, the next place. Irresistible, inexorable, it frequently led him away from comfort and ease into danger and difficulty. It was as much a part of him as any organ, and to him just as real.

  Nor could he conceive of taking her with him. Away from her hylaea, her all-encompassing forest, she would be as lonely and helpless and sorrowful as a bird-of-paradise suddenly dropped in the middle of a desert. True tropicals could not make friends with buzzards. The sounds and stinks of a city would be enough to impoverish her soul.

  Under the circumstances he did all he felt he could; he put his arm around her and held her in return.

  Nearby, the big furcot watched the two humans while munching on the last of the nude mink.

  “What are they doing, Saalahan?” Tuuvatem inquired respectfully.

  The great, tusked head inclined in the youngster’s direction. “Comforting one another.”

  “But neither is wounded,” Moomadeem pointed out.

  “I know. It is a strange way of human persons. They comfort each other even in the absence of injury. They imagine pain for themselves, invent agonies where there is no cause.”

  “Why would they do that?” Tuuvatem’s three eyes were wide with innocence.

  “I don’t know,” Saalahan replied candidly. “It is a characteristic peculiar to human persons. No other creature does such a thing.”

  “It seems wasteful,” commented Moomadeem.

  “I agree. I don’t pretend to understand it. I’m not sure the human persons understand it themselves. It is just a thing that is.”

  “This odd new human person,” Moomadeem asked, changing the subject, “do you think he will stay with Teal and her cubs?”

  “I don’t know that, either.”

  “Impossible,” declared Tuuvatem. “He has no furcot.”

  “No, but he has the pretty flying thing. The bond between them is not unlike that between human and furcot. Similar, yet different. Maybe it is enough.”

  “Perhaps where this Flinx human comes from the human persons all have little flying creatures instead of furcots,” Moomadeem suggested.

  “Perhaps,” Saalahan admitted with just a touch of condescension.

  They watched the persons for a time before Moomadeem spoke again. “Saalahan, I know that Dwell is my human, but humans come out of other humans. Where do we come from?”

  “The same place that gives life to everything: from the great forest.”

  “I know that everything comes from the forest originally,” Moomadeem replied. “Even humans, originally. But I have seen them born into the world, and I have learned that it takes two adult humans to make one new one. What does it take to make a furcot, and why is a furcot made whenever a human is born?”

  “Balance,” the elder explained. “Balance is everything. Without a person a furcot dies. Without a furcot a person may live, but never for as long, and only with great difficulty. Without furcots I think all the persons would die out.”

  “And what would be the danger of that?”

  Saalahan considered thoughtfully before responding. “Perhaps it is important for the balance of the world for there to be persons in it. Certainly they make life much more interesting.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Moomadeem admitted. “Dwell has never failed to amuse me with his antics, nor Kiss, either.”

  “Then perhaps that is our purpose.” As Saalahan shifted its great bulk, bark was rubbed away beneath it. “To be amused by persons and to help them survive. There are far worse kinds of existence. You could be a panic beetle, for instance, growing inside in a tree for years only to come forth and flash the light for a few days, frantic to mate before death overcomes you.”

  “That would be a poor existence,” Moomadeem had to admit.

  “Much better to be a furcot with a person of your very own.” Saalahan turned back to the humans and the gamboling children. “No matter how deeply this flying creature satisfies the needs of the new person, I feel badly that he has no furcot to look after him. At times he seems content, and at others, very troubled. I sense that he is happy with his small companion yet unhappy within himself.” A huge claw dug idly at one nostril.

  “And that, Moomadeem cub, is worse than being a panic beetle.”

  Following Teal’s suggestion, they ended up spending another night safe within the spectacular surrounds of the burnt-out cavity in the side of the branch. That night, the rain clouds did not gather for several hours after sunset. For the first time since he’d entered orbit, Flinx was allowed a glimpse of the world’s two large moons. As viewed from the planet’s surface, their dominance of the night sky was total.

  They cast a doubled glow across the valley in the trees, occasionally illuminating the passage of some great nocturnal predator as it passed by on silent wings. Their pure, unsullied light revealed for the first time the remarkable night-blooming plants that had heretofore been concealed by darkness and ra
in. Tinted a thousand shades of gray, an entirely new and compelling vista burst forth to satisfy his hungry eyes.

  Like a fistful of knives flung at the inner canopy, a flock of sharp-spined predators slashed into the trees. Out of many, just a few emerged victorious, only to have their catch contested by those of their companions who had failed. Their eerie, piercing cries echoed across the moonlit valley, fading as they covered distance in their battle for aerial supremacy.

  Several broke away to pursue a cluster of thickly feathered fruit eaters. Instead of wings, their torpedo-shaped bodies were entirely surrounded by a cylindrical tube that pushed them through the air in fits and starts. Capable of phenomenal but brief bursts of speed, they plunged with much agitated squawking into the canopy in search of cover and safety.

  “Quinifers.” Teal rose on one arm to point. “They can turn very sharply, but they have poor vision. Once, an entire flock flew into our shaman’s house. We picked them off the ground, dazed, and caressed them until they recovered. They are not good to eat. Too many tendons and ligaments.”

  Flinx’s talent had chosen to take some time off, and try as he would, he couldn’t sense what she was really feeling. So he simply nodded understanding as something with three enormous yellow eyes went flapping past, looking like a runaway pawnshop symbol with wings. Everywhere you turned, another zoological or botanical wonder manifested itself, fairly begging to be classified. Once again he realized that this planet was a xenotaxonomist’s dream—or nightmare. He would be very much surprised if it did not contain the most extensive and diverse biota of any world yet discovered.

  He leaned back against Teal and half closed his eyes. It was a terrible thing to be cursed with curiosity. “A vision of responsibility,” Teal had more or less called it. Try as he might, he knew he would be unable to cast it aside.

  On balance, he would far rather have had a headache.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The morning dawned clear, beautiful, and sultry, as the last of the night-rain dripped and coursed from the tips of leaves and down the flanks of trees and creepers, beginning its long journey toward the distant regions of the Lower Hell. The majority of the moisture would never reach the surface. It would be caught and trapped along the way by expansive bromeliads, enterprising epiphytes, aerial roots, and thirsty fauna.

  The sleepy occupants of the cavity stretched and yawned. It was Dwell who announced that he would be first to see if he could find something fresh and surprising for breakfast. Nimble as a cat, he scrambled over the back of a drowsy Saalahan and up over the edge of the opening.

  Still suffering from the effects of his epiphanic vision of the day before, Flinx did his best to loosen cramped muscles as the youngster’s feet disappeared from view. A fall from the branch could have been fatal, but he no longer worried about the children’s safety. They were infinitely more agile and confident clambering about the forest tangles than he ever would be. For a few moments they heard Dwell rustling about atop the branch. Then his movements grew muffled and faint.

  Flinx glanced back at Teal. She was truly lovely, he decided. Difficult to believe she had two half-grown offspring. Trying to assay her emotions, he found that he could not. At the moment, his frustratingly erratic abilities were not functioning. Tomorrow likely would be different, or tonight.

  No matter. The look on her face conveyed a good sense of what she was feeling.

  Mother Mastiff would have approved of her, but then Mother Mastiff would have approved of anyone. All that irascible old woman had ever wanted was for her adopted son to find someone to share his life with, settle down in one place, and be happy. Unfortunately, the older he grew the more unlikely it seemed that there would be room in his life for any such charmingly domestic developments. He’d been born to something else, and was still in the process of finding out what that might be.

  The shouting from above came as a surprise. Howls and screeches, bellows and roars he would have expected, but not shouts.

  “There he goes! . . . Grab him! . . . Don’t let him get away! . . . The net, use the net . . . !”

  Teal sprang to her feet, eyes staring upward as if they could pierce the solid wood. “I don’t understand. The accents are strange and sound like more of your kind. Skypersons.” Subsumed in the frenzy of struggle, the shouts and urgent cries were diminishing.

  “Skypersons, yes,” he murmured, “but they’re not relations or friends of mine.” Now intensely alert, Pip hovered protectively near his shoulder. “They’re enemies.”

  “Enemies,” Moomadeem growled softly. Claws securing a firm grip on the wood, the young furcot swung out onto the side of the branch.

  “No, wait!” Flinx grabbed at the clipped green fur.

  Moomadeem hesitated and looked expectantly back at Saalahan. The big furcot reached out to put a massive paw on the cub’s middle shoulder as it explained.

  “Flinx speaks smart. They already have your person. Better not to charge blindly into something we do not understand.”

  Teal was teetering on the edge of the cavity, trying to see upward. “Don’t hurt him! He’s just a child!”

  “Hey, there’s a woman!” To his regret and embarrassment, it was a voice Flinx thought he recognized.

  His suspicions were quickly confirmed. “Philip Lynx, come on out of your hole! We know you’re down there.”

  “How’d you learn my real name?” He had to restrain Pip from rising to the attack.

  “There’s a lot of information on your shuttle,” replied the voice of Jack-Jax Coerlis. “Not everything I’d like to know, but enough. Are you coming up?”

  “There’s nowhere else to go. Just don’t hurt the boy.”

  “Why would I want to hurt him? He’s a funny-looking little savage with a nasty temper, but I don’t hold that against him. I’d be on edge myself if I had to spend much time here. Now, where there’s a boy this age, there’s usually a mother, so why don’t all of you come on out? You know what’s between you and me, Lynx. Hurting ignorant bystanders isn’t a part of it—so long as you cooperate.”

  “There’s no one else here.” Flinx did his utmost to make the declaration sound convincing.

  “Don’t try me, Lynx. We’ve been listening to you gab down there for the last ten minutes. I know there’s a woman and a girl. I heard you talking to the woman.”

  Heard me, Flinx thought anxiously. Then it struck him that Coerlis knew nothing of furcots, nor had Saalahan or Moomadeem uttered anything above a whisper.

  “Surely these people will not harm Dwell.” Teal’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

  “I hate to tell you this, Teal, but where I come from there’s a surplus of persons. It’s not necessary to cooperate in order to survive. Sensible and rational, yes, but not necessary. We shouldn’t take any chances. It’ll be all right, you’ll see. It’s me they want to talk to.”

  “You first, Lynx,” Coerlis shouted down to him. “We have weapons out and ready, so I suggest you put a hand on the minidrag if you want to keep it alive.”

  Flinx gripped Pip just below her head, gently but firmly. “Easy,” he murmured to her. She was taut as a wire, fully conscious of his discomfort. He whispered tautly to Saalahan. “They don’t know you’re down here. Let’s try to keep it that way. Can you give me a boost?”

  The big furcot nodded. Grasping Flinx around the waist with both forepaws, it raised him effortlessly off the floor of the cavity and lifted him outside. Glancing down, Flinx saw that the curve of the branch concealed the heavy paws. His expression grim, he scrambled up onto the top of the branch, heedless of the sheer drop below.

  Waiting to confront him was an alien of a size and countenance he didn’t recognize. It was as massive as a furcot but not as stocky. Its emotional state remained closed to him, but at the moment he couldn’t even read Teal.

  Two of its four arms firmly pinioned a defiant Dwell, while the others clutched a large rifle. Most ten-year-olds would have been thoroughly intimidated by the Mu�
�Atahl, but not Dwell. Compared to the dangers he knew and lived with every day there in the arboreal heights, he did not find the alien particularly impressive.

  For the first time since Flinx had crossed paths with Jack-Jax Coerlis, he saw the man smile contentedly. “Surprised?”

  “Yes and no. At your resources, not your obsessive behavior.”

  “One man’s obsession is another man’s fortitude

  At that moment Pip tore free of Flinx’s grasp and shot forward, taking care to aim straight at Coerlis’s eyes before anyone had time to react. As the merchant yelped, a thin stream of pressurized venom gleamed in the yellow-green light.

  Shifting the heavy weapon he held, Chaa fired. Dilating as it emerged from the special gun, the weighted net englobed Pip and carried the flying snake to the ground. Eyes burning, she lay there beneath the composite netting, flopping and flapping furiously against the restraint, unable to rise.

  Flinx started toward the imprisoned minidrag. “You could’ve killed her!”

  “Hold it there, sonny. Remember me?” A grinning Peeler had his pistol pointed directly at Flinx’s chest.

  Flinx spared the man a glance. “Yes, I remember you. Where’s your associate?”

  Peeler’s grin evaporated. “Dead. Some little crawling things got him. No,” he corrected himself, “this planet got him. But it won’t get me, and now we’ve got you.” Keeping his pistol trained on Flinx, he walked over and roughly removed the younger man’s equipment belt.

  “Aimee.” Holding his pistol in one hand, Coerlis used a special industrial cloth to wipe the viscous venom from his protective flip-down face shield. “The minidrag.”

  An attractive blond woman carrying a gray mesh sack advanced to the spraddled net and its incensed captive. In addition to chameleon suit and helmet with face shield, she wore heavy gloves designed for handling powerful solvents and chemicals.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Flinx warned her.

  She glared back at him. “You don’t look threatening. Mr. Coerlis said as much.” Crouching, she worked the open mouth of the sack forward beneath the netting. With a hiss, Pip fired a burst of venom in her direction. It struck the face guard and she flinched.