Flinx Transcendent

by Alan Dean Foster

  Despite the presence of so many small Blasusarrian swimmers, the water looked clean. Any chemical imprint was invisible. If the water was potable, that would render this particular bit of AAnn landscaping an even more inviting place to hide.

  Selecting one of a dozen miniature side “canyons,” he settled into one, stripped off his outer AAnn attire, and began methodically unsealing the simsuit. Despite its exceptional powers of renewal, it was still necessary from time to time to air the suit out and perform certain minimal maintenance procedures on the interior. These could not be done while the suit was still being occupied. Previously he had performed the requisite procedures while safe in his rented quarters. Deprived of his residence, he would have to do the work here.

  Though it felt strange to find himself standing outside the simsuit in the open air of Blasusarr, he was not overly concerned. The night was advancing by the hour, he had not seen any movement from the vicinity of the property's main structure, and the extensive landscaping hid him from the view of anyone on the nearest public pathway. Robotic scrutinizers and patrolling enforcers would not enter the property of such an obviously important residence without good reason and first obtaining proper clearance.

  By the time he had completed upkeep and maintenance on the suit it was very late indeed. The only sounds came from automatonic desertdwellers that were nothing more than motile components of the landscaping itself. Were the swimmers in the pool likewise inorganic, or were they composed of flesh and assorted Blasusarrian bodily fluids? He could learn several things at once by slipping into the pool for a swim.

  After so much time spent smothered in the confines of the simsuit, the feel of the cool water was almost unbearably refreshing against his bare skin. A creature of the air, Pip relaxed nearby on warm shotstone, content to occasionally swing her head around and sip from one of the two precision-engineered rivulets that fed the pool. Flinx floated naked on his back and gazed up at constellations that were as foreign as any an Earthly astronomer could imagine. In barely ten years he had seen many such sights, and had visited more than a few.

  And if he and his friends did not find a way to stop something impossibly immense and inconceivably evil that was headed this way from behind those very same stars, in the not-so-far future those bright points of light would begin to be snuffed out one by one.

  He let out a sigh. Arms spread wide, hands gently rowing, he pushed himself lazily across the pool. A perfect imitation of the real thing, the sculpted faux sandstone walls that surrounded him did a credible job of shutting out the alien world beyond. Eyes half closed, exhausted from the mental and physical strain of having to flee and avoid capture, he allowed himself to unwind in the cool, supportive liquid. Tomorrow he would devote himself to concocting a means for escaping the city and finding a place sufficiently desolate to accommodate a shuttle landing. Tomorrow he would ponder further the hostile universe and his exceptionally peculiar place within it. Tomorrow.

  Tonight—tonight he would rest and allow himself to recuperate from the demands of the day. In the privacy of the extensive estate landscaping he could even see himself enjoying a full night's sleep.

  So at ease did the refreshing pool, the private surrounds, the warm night, and his own fatigue put him that he failed to sense an approaching presence. Or perhaps his ever erratic Talent was simply not functioning at full efficiency. Whatever the reason, he continued to float nonchalantly in the midst of the comfortingly cool basin unaware that he and Pip were no longer alone.

  His serpentine companion, however, was not nearly so preoccupied with relaxation that she failed to notice the approaching intelligence. Raising her scaly head several centimeters off the ground, her eyes flicked in multiple directions as she sought its source. Folded against her sides, bright blue and pink wings twitched preparatory to unfurling. But instead of taking flight she slid into the water. With buoyant S-curves, she worked their way over to her master. Only when she slithered wet and slick onto his chest did Flinx fully open his eyes. Raising his head slightly from the water, he met her slitted gaze and grinned fondly.

  “Lonely, Pip? Or just feel like a swim?”

  By way of response the Alaspinian flying snake again lifted her head, this time shifting her attention toward his feet. Frowning slightly, Flinx backstroked a little faster as he peered into the darkness beyond the miniature artificial canyon. He heard nothing, saw nothing. But under the minidrag's prodding, he strove to reach out with the singular sense only he possessed.

  Opening himself to greater surroundings, he abruptly and unexpectedly chanced across a third presence in addition to himself and Pip. It was alien, AAnn, and growing stronger every second. Startled by its unexpected proximity, he turned on his side and swam for the stone beach where he had left the simsuit. Dumped into the water by her master's turn, Pip swam swiftly and easily for the same shore.

  Climbing out of the pool, intently searching the surrounding darkness, Flinx tried to dry himself as best he could. The AAnn-style backpack that was always attached to the simsuit contained all manner of useful gear and equipment brought from the Teacher. Ironically, what he needed at that moment was something as low-tech as a towel. Donning the simsuit while wet was certainly possible, but not very comfortable. He had no choice. Standing by the side of the pool in only his skin left him naked in more ways than one.

  In any event, the presence his pet had alerted him to was dangerously close now and he had to move quickly. Making certain the simsuit was properly laid out and the tail deactivated, he picked it up by the ventral slit and began to insert his right leg. A considerably more complex piece of attire than, say, shorts and shirt, the simsuit required a good ten minutes to don correctly and another ten to verify that its multiple servo-controlled functions, from retractable claws to nictating ocular membranes, were functioning properly.

  As it turned out he did not have ten minutes, much less the preferred twenty. He did not even have a couple. Rounding the far corner of the diminutive synthetic canyon the AAnn whose presence Flinx had sensed abruptly strode into view, outlined in the dim starlight. An instant later the unsuspecting nocturnal perambulator saw him: an unclothed human standing beside the pool gripping what in the shadows looked like nothing so much as the flayed skin of a fellow AAnn. To the late-night visitant the sight must have been a considerable shock.

  Especially considering how young he was.

  That his nightly sojourns did not have formal familial approval made them all the more delicious. Wielding a wickedly curved traditional bengk carnage knife in one four-fingered hand, a convex torgk shield in the other, and a sharpened and embossed pelgk sheath over the last half meter of his slender tail, Kiijeem AVMd prowled the desert in search of the wily ssentoom. One had to be ever ready and alert on the trail of the ssentoom. Though not large, they were vicious little carnivores, boasting a pair of forward-facing tusks that could pierce personal protection and reach all the way to vital organs. Defiant and eager, Kiijeem wore not a single piece of body armor. He chose to hunt without it, confident in the knowledge that he was faster, stronger, and smarter than the wiliest representative of that dangerous and delectable species.

  He could also hunt without armor secure in the knowledge that it had been a couple of hundred cycles since the last ssentoom had been killed anywhere within a dozen corrls of Krrassin's city limits. The fact that he was “hunting” on his family's property reduced the likelihood of such an encounter to practically nil. That knowledge did not prevent him, however, from enjoying the chase.

  As usual, he had taken care to slip out of the residence unobserved. While such a late-night stroll would have been frowned upon by the adults, if he was caught it would have occasioned nothing stronger than a casual rebuke over the missed sleep time. What would have drawn more serious censure was his choice to go wandering around in the dark fully armed with traditional weapons. At his age, halfway between childhood and maturity, concerns would have been voiced over his competency to handle
such lethal gear. Not that there was anything on the protected property capable of harming so much as a hopping infant, and the security fence kept intruders at bay, but fears would have been raised about the possibility of an accident.

  It was to avoid just such tiresome lecturing from adult nye that he always kept his intentions secret. He had carried out his covert stalkings several times previously without having his activities discovered. Each successive successful excursion boosted his confidence in his ability to continue to do so. Each succeeding stalk increased his poise in the handling of weapons, his ability to negotiate obstacles in the dark, and his growing physical prowess.

  Besides that, they were fun.

  A hint of movement caught his eye. He froze, dropping immediately into the preliminary attack crouch all AAnn learned from the time they were old enough to stop hopping and start running. With the bengk held low and ready to thrust and the torgk positioned in front of his chest, he advanced slowly on his quarry. Knees bent, tail cocked and ready to snap to left or right, he silently shadowed his prey.

  There it was, just in front of him. Its back was to him and its eyes and attention elsewhere. Clutching the haft of the bengk steadfastly, Kiijeem contracted his powerful thigh muscles, hissed softly in expectation, and leaped.

  The bengk descended. There was no cry from the victim. The point of the curved blade pierced its carapace directly behind the skull. Caught entirely by surprise, the hard-shelled bhrossod barely had time to utter a short, sharp, soft unkk. It was still alive when Kiijeem raised the pinioned creature aloft on the point of his blade. It was about half the length of the knife, possessed no biting parts, and continued to kick spasmodically with all ten legs. Eventually these stopped convulsing and grew still. Placing the dead animal back on the ground, Kiijeem used one clawed, sandal-shod foot to push the dead vermin off the blade. While it was a long way from dispatching the fierce and dangerous ssentoom, at least it was a kill.

  In his mind's eye he imagined it was a thranx, hereditary foe of the Empire, all slashing foot-hands and drooling mouthparts. His slashing bengk had smashed through the hard protective chitin over its spine. Now its ichorous bodily fluids were draining away harmlessly into the absorptive, cleansing sands of Blasusarr. Wiping his bengk clean against the leg of his body suit, Kiijeem resumed his search for the ever-elusive ssentoom. Surely there was one to be found in this wild and empty reach of uninhabited desert! Doubtless crouched at the very back of its burrow, cowering in fear from the knowledge that the greatest traditional hunter of all the AAnn was close on its trail.

  More movement, this time off to his left, caught his attention. Could it be a ssentoom? The brief flash of motion certainly suggested something considerably larger and more active than the harmless and unlucky bhrossod. For an instant Kiijeem, self-anointed mighty hunter that he was, hesitated. Nothing so large ought to have been able to slip past the property's security perimeter. Was part of the barrier down along with its attendant warning electronics? If so, it might be time to call a premature halt to his nighttime stalking and alert an adult. What if some addled ambler had found a hole in the fence and come looking for loot, challenge, or trouble of an unspecified nature? Kiijeem might hunt ssentoom in the middle of the morning, but he was not sure he was ready to challenge a trouble-seeking adult.

  What was this? he chided himself. Was he not Kiijeem AVMd, fourth of a titled litter, progeny of a noble family? Were the weapons he carried nothing more than decoration; a boost to an ailing confidence, a sop to a frail ego? Why should he, who hunted the deadly ssentoom (if only in his imagination), fear a trespassing citizen? One who was probably mentally deficient or unstable or both? Steeling himself he pressed on, secure in the likelihood that he would have the element of surprise on his side, the justification of an affronted property owner in reserve, and the knowledge that come what may he was a very fast runner.

  He had detected the movement on the far shore of the west pool, the one that was home to his family's prized collection of rare southern temperate river water-dwellers. Was the intruder a common thief? Would someone intent on pilfering small aquatic animals embark on such an activity heavily armed? It seemed superfluous. With that comforting thought in mind Kiijeem continued his advance.

  In keeping with the aesthetics of the high-priced landscaper, the tailored terrain grew more rugged as he approached the pool. Moonlight outlined a figure standing there. Raising the bengk, Kiijeem started forward. As the outlines of the figure grew more defined, he began to slow. In a reflex gesture reflecting his utter astonishment, his tongue slid out of his mouth to hang down the right side of his jaw. The only sound he emitted was a soft metallic tap as his tail muscles relaxed and the sheathed tip slumped to the ground. He halted.

  He could not believe what he was seeing.

  Standing before him was a bipedal being he recognized instantly from the standardized component of his formal studies. It was much, much taller than he would have expected. Perhaps an unusual example of its kind. It was slender but well muscled and, just as the relevant imagery had taught him, completely tailless. It was one thing to learn in studies that a tall biped could stand upright without a tail and not fall over, quite another to see the phenomenon in person. While the eyes that were staring back at him were somewhat flattened in their orbits, the pupils were impossibly round.

  Something far smaller and much more colorful was hovering in the air nearby. An alien flying creature, it resembled Kiijeem far more closely than it did its owner. A pet of some kind, or symbiote. The young nye did not recognize the Alaspinian flying snake, having never encountered Alaspin or minidrags in his studies. The tall biped he knew well, however. It was a human. An ally of the thranx, a cofounding race of the hated Commonwealth, and therefore also an implacable enemy. A mixture of fear, loathing, and revulsion churned through the AAnn's digestive organs. The creature's most distinctive defining characteristic was far more obvious in the flesh than it had ever been in the course of his studies.

  It looked so … so soft.

  The pulpy flesh had no covering. No scales, as would be natural. No chitin, as did the thranx and many other creatures. Virtually no fur. Even in the poor light Kiijeem thought he could actually see the blood flowing beneath the ridiculously gauzy, easily damaged skin. Why, a well-aimed rock could tear it! The sheath-point that presently covered Kiijeem's tail could pierce such a fragile creature straight through from front to back. Except…

  This was a human, and one thing his studies had emphasized when discussing the softskins was that they were not nearly as fragile as they looked. And what about the dead, eviscerated AAnn the creature was holding?

  No, the limp object was not a dead AAnn, he saw as he peered harder. While it looked exactly like the flayed skin of a nye, the interior was lined not with dripping blood vessels and torn muscle but with a smooth material whose origin was clearly synthetic. Woven into the fabric, for such he decided it had to be, were a multitude of embedded sensors and advanced instrumentation. It was something like a costume, then. Somehow Kiijeem did not think the human had brought it with him so he could inconspicuously attend a clan function. Which led to the obvious question of just what he was doing with it (by now Kiijeem was certain the creature standing before him was a male of the disgusting species) and what he was doing here. On Blasusarr. In Krrassin. On Kiijeem's family property, at night, by the west pool.

  Notwithstanding the rarity of the specimens that dwelled in the pool, Kiijeem doubted this representative of an adversarial species had come all this way and gone to all this trouble simply to steal an assortment of native water-dwellers.

  All this flashed through his mind even as he was simultaneously trying to decide whether to challenge or run. The revolting elasticity and apparent vulnerability of its body aside, the human was a good deal taller and heavier than the startled adolescent. While Kiijeem could not see any weaponry, that did not mean the intruder was unarmed. In fact, as an interloper in the capital city it wa
s unlikely he would have come here unequipped to defend himself. There was also the matter of the attendant flying creature, which might possess abilities that posed a danger in themselves.

  Mighty hunter though he was, at that moment Kiijeem found himself yearning for the gently warmed sand that filled the sleeping area in his private quarters. The main residence was uncomfortably far away.

  The two stood staring at one another, the distance between them too close for comfort but sufficient to allow a moment's contemplation in lieu of the need to take immediate action. Had the situation been reversed, had a human of Kiijeem's age encountered a mature AAnn in similar circumstances on Earth, the human's conditioning would have told him to run. An AAnn, however, was made of sterner stuff. Or was the more foolishly obstinate. Letting out a long, deep hiss (as deep as he could manage, anyway) Kiijeem took several deliberate steps forward, raised the bengk above his hairless head, and assumed the posture of one issuing a formal challenge. His studied pose was highlighted by complementary traditional gesturing. Maybe he hoped this would frighten the human into flight. If so, he was disappointed.

  Stepping out of the simsuit skin and laying it down carefully on the smooth rock, the tall intruder cocked his head slightly to one side and continued to stare silently back at his blustering young challenger. Was the creature deaf, or dumb, or both? an anxious Kiijeem wondered as he gripped the bengk a little tighter. Was it even now preparing some kind of unimaginable, unthinkable alien response? The youth's legs did not shake—he was too well trained for that. But thoughts of whirling about, casting his play-weaponry aside, and racing like mad for the safety of the main residence began to loom ever more prominently in his thoughts.