The cubicle they assigned him was small and simply furnished. He spent an hour washing off the dust of days, and a pleasant surprise awaited him when he exited the shower—his jumpsuit had been taken away and cleaned. It was a good thing he had taken Pip into the bath with him.
Feeling uncomfortably clean, he was directed to the nearest food service facility and soon found himself mingling with a crush of aquamarine robes and suits. The facility itself was a surprise, decorated with local shrubs and fountains, its lushness in stark contrast to the spartan exterior of the building. It was divided into three sections by semipermeable paneling.
One section was adjusted to the midtemperate zone climate most favored by humans, while the area farthest from the door was almost misted over from the heat and. humidity favored by the thranx. The eating area in between was by far the largest. Here the two environments blended imperfectly, to form a climate a touch warm and damp for humans, slightly dry and cool to the thranx, yet suitable to both. All three areas were crowded.
He was thankful for the presence of several humans and thranx who wore something other than the Church color; it made him feel considerably less conspicuous.
The smells of recently prepared food were every where. While a few of the aromas were exotic, they couldn't compete with the incredible variety of odors always present in the marketplace in Drallar. Even so, he found himself salivating. He had had nothing to eat since his brief breakfast in the city early that morning.
A short time after placing his order with the auto chef he was rewarded with a flavorful steak of uncertain origin and an assortment of breads and vegetables. But when he inquired again about the rest of his order, a small screen lit -up: No intoxicants of any sort, however mild, are permitted in Depot commissaries.
Flinx swallowed his disappointment - a poor substitute for the beer he had ordered - and settled for iced shaka.
Pip was curled about his shoulder once again. The flying snake had aroused a few comments bat not fear. The creatures in the facility - they ranged in age from less than his own to elders well over a hundred-were peculiarly indifferent to the possibility of the minidrag suddenly spewing corrosive death.
Flinx took a seat by himself. His ears were no larger than normal, and his talent no sharper than usual, but his hearing was well trained. To survive in Drallar, one had to utilize all one's sences to the utmost. Listening to the conversation around him in the food service facility, they served to satiate his curiosity.
To his left a pair of elderly thranx were arguing over the validity of performing genetic manipulation with unhatched eggs. It had something to do with the scorm process as opposed to the oppordian method, and there was much talk of the morality of inducing mutation by prenatal suggestion in unformed pupae.
Hunting for something less incomprehensible, he overheard an old woman with two cream-colored stripes on her suit sleeve lecturing a group of acolytes: two human, two thranx. A hydrogen atom was emblazoned above the stripes.
"So you see, if you check the research which has been performed on Pluto, Gorisa, and Tipendemos over the last eight years, you'll find that any additional modifications to the SCCAM weapons system must take into account the stress limitations of the osmiridium casing itself."
A bite of bread and yet another wisp of conversation, this from a middle-aged man behind him with a lash white beard: "Production levels on Kansastan and Inter-Kansastan in the Bryan Sector suggest that with proper preatmospheric seeding, food grain production can be increased as much as twenty percent over the next three planting years."
Flinx frowned as he considered this intense babble, bat it wasn't the absence of theology in the discussions that troubled him. He really couldn't judge, but even to his untrained ears it seemed that a lot of very sensitive matters were being freely discussed in the presence of non-Church personnel. Whether that proved the Church was inefficient or only typically humanx he could not decide. Though security wasn't his problem, it troubled him nonetheless as he finished his meal.
He was still troubled the following morning, as he made his way back to the desk in the entrance chamber. Mona Tantivy was on duty, and she smiled when she saw him approach. Traffic was moving briskly through the chamber now as Church personnel hustled from one corridor to another and through the double- glass entranceway.
"Ready?" she asked.
"I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible," he said, in a sharper tone than he intended. Flinx, aware he was trembling slightly, resolutely calmed himself.
The woman pursed her lips reprovingly. "Don't act as if you're going to be inoculated or something."
"In a sense that's just how I feel," he replied grimly.
And it was. Flinx had grown up with a deficient image of self. If he found no remedy here, he would likely carry that cross with him forever.
The woman nodded slowly, pressed a switch. A few minutes later a fortyish human with a build like a wrestler came out of the near corridor. His smile was identical to Tantivy's, and he projected the same desire to aid and be helpful. Flinx wondered if this attitude was natural or if that, too, was part of the Church course of instruction: Advanced Personality Manipulation through Traditional Facial Gesticulation or something similar.
Angrily Flinx thrust his instinctive sarcasm aside. All that mattered was seeing what he had come for.
"My name's Namoto," the blocky oriental said, introducing himself with smile and handshake. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Lynx."
Flinx put up a restraining hand. "Let's not call me that until we prove it. Just Flinx, please."
The smile didn't fade. "All right, whoever you be. Come with me and we'll see if we can find out who you are."
After what seemed like twenty minutes of walking through hallways and featureless corridors, Flinx was thoroughly disoriented. "It's hard to believe that the Church records of every human being in the Commonwealth ..."
"... and of every thranx," Namoto finished for him, "are all stored in this small building, but it is true. Information storage is a thousand-year-old science, Flinx. The art of document reduction has been developed to a high degree. Most of the records in this building would be invisible under a standard microscope. Our scanners and imprinters work with much finer resolutions." He paused before a door that looked no different from a hundred already passed.
"We're here."
The single word engraved in the translucent door said simply. Genealogy. Behind this door were the early histories of billions of humanx lives-though not all of them. There were still those who did not wish to be documented by anything other than their own epitaph, and a few of them achieved this.
On the other hand, Flinx had been undocumented his whole life, and he was tired of it.
"There could be a large number of Philip Lynxes still alive," Namoto suggested as he keyed the door, "although because of certain colloquial sociological connotations, it is a less common name than many."
"I know what it means," Flinx snapped. Pip shifted uneasily on his master's shoulder at the sudden flare of mental violence.
The room was enormous. Mostly it consisted of seemingly endless aisles alternating with rows of enclosed metal that stretched from floor to ceiling. No row appeared different from its neighbor.
Flinx was led to a row of ten booths. Two were occupied by researchers, the rest were empty. Namoto sat down before the single large screen in the walled booth and gestured for Flinx to sit next to him. Then he pressed both thumbs to a pair of hollows set in the screen's side.
A light winked on beneath them and the screen lit up. Namoto leaned forward, said, "My name is Shigeta Namoto." He relaxed. There was a pause; the machine hummed, and a green light winked on above the screen's center.
"You are recognized. Padre Namoto," the machine intoned. "Awaiting requests."
"Report results of previous night's search on one human male named Lynx, Philip. Hold alternate spellings till directed." He turned, whispered to Flinx, "For a start we'll assume the name on the slaver's record was correct."
"Possible place of origin," he told the machine, "Allahabad, India Province, Terra." The Padre looked over at his anxious companion. "How old are you ... or do you know?"
"Mother Mastiff tells me I should be about seventeen, though she can't be sure. Sometimes I feel like I'm seven hundred."
"And sometimes I feel like I'm seven," the massive Churchman countered pleasantly, returning his attention to the machine.
"Age approximation noted," the device stated. "Results of search appear."
Namoto studied the list. "I was right... it's not a common name. There are records of only three Philip Lynxes having been born and registered at Allahabad within the last half century. Only one of them fits your age bracket." He addressed the machine once more.
"Further information desired."
There was a brief hum, then the screen lit brightly with the legend: TRANSFERRING ALLAHABAD TERMINAL . Then a moment later: TRANSFER COMPLETED ... CODE LENGTH.
Namoto gazed at the numbers following. "Doesn't seem to be much information at all. I hope it's worth ..." He paused, suddenly concerned. "Are you all right, Flinx? You're shivering."
"I'm fine ... it's a lot cooler in here than outside, that's all. Hurry up."
Namoto nodded. "Decode transfer."
Flinx's hands tightened convulsively on his thighs as each word was printed out. ...
LYNX, PHILIP... TRUE NAME... BORN 533 A.A., 2933 OLD CALENDAR IN THE SUBURB OF SARNATH, GREATER URBAN ALLAHABAD,INDIA PROVINCE, TERRA.
There was a pause during which nothing further appeared on the screen. Flinx turned to Namoto, almost shouting.
"Is that all?"
"Gentle, Flinx ... see, more comes." And the print- out continued again.
NOTES ADDITIONAL: RECORDS OF ASSISTING SEMI- PHYSICIAN AND MONITORING MEDITECH INDICATE PRES- ENCE OF UNUSUALLY HIGH BIRTH AURA IN R-WAVE MATERNITY CHAMBER READINGS ... NO UNUSUAL OR ADVERSE REACTION FROM MOTHER ... R-WAVE READOUTS INDICATE POTENTIAL OF POSSIBLE ABNORMAL TALENTS, CLASS ONE ...
DELIVERY NORMAL ... NO R-WAVE REACTION ASCRIBABLE TO TRAUMA ... MONITORS POSTOPERATIVE CHECK NORMAL ...INFANT OTHERWISE NORMAL AND HEALTHY. ...
MOTHER AGED 22 ... NAME: ANASAGE ... GRANDPARENTS UNKNOWN. ...
Namoto did not look at Flinx as the readout con eluded: FATHER UNKNOWN, NOT PRESENT AT BIRTHING. ...
Flinx fought to relax. Now that this ordeal was over he wondered at his tension. What information there was told him little and as for the last, well, he had been called a bastard before and far worse than that. But all this new information still did not tell him if Lynx was a lineal name, or one applied solely to him at birth. Without that-or additional information-he might as well not have bothered.
"Any information," he asked in a soft monotone, "on the post delivery status of the .. ." the word came surprisingly easy now, "mother?"
Namoto requested it of the machine. The reply was short, eloquent.
MOTHER DECEASED ... OFF-PLANET, 537 A.A. ... ADDITIONAL DETAIL AVAILABLE. ...
"Explain the ..." Flinx began, but Namoto hushed him.
"Just a minute, Philip."
Pip stirred nervously as his master bristled in reaction.
"Don't call me that. It's Flinx, just Flinx."
"Grant me the minute anyhow." Namoto used a small keyboard to instruct the machine manually. There was a low whine from sealed depths. A tiny wheel of millimeter-wide tape, so narrow as to be almost invisible, was ejected from an almost invisible slot. At the same time the screen lit for the last time.
PRINTOUT OF DELIVERED INFORMATION ACCOMPLISHED ... SECONDARY INFORMATION WITH- DRAWN TEN STANDARD MONTHS TWO WEEKS FOUR DAYS PRIOR THIS DATE....
Namoto's gaze narrowed. "Someone's been tampering with your file, all right." To the machine, "Identify withdrawing authority."
UNABLE TO COMPLY ... AUTHORITY WITHDRAWN IMMEDIATELY SUBSEQUENT TO INFORMATION WITHDRAWAL. ...
"Neat," was all Namoto said. "Your acquaintance wanted to make certain no one else had access to whatever information he stole."
A red-tinged image grew in his mind-Challis! The merchant had fooled him even at the point of imagined death. He had confessed to the Flinx simulacrum where he bad obtained his information on Flinx, without finding it necessary to add that the critical information was no longer there.
What he had left in the Church archives was just enough to satisfy any casual inspector and to prevent any cancellation alarms from being activated.
And Flinx doubted that Challis was awaiting his return back in the capital. So he would have to start his hunt all over again - with no hint of where the merchant had fled to this time. A quiet voice nearby was speaking to him.
Namoto had keyed the machine release and was offering him the tape. "Here's a copy of what the thief left in the archive." Flinx took it, his movements slow and stunned. "I'm sorry about the rest, whatever it consists of. I suspect if you want to know the contents you're going to have to find your acquaintance again and ask him some direct questions. And when you do, I'd appreciate it if you'd contact the nearest Church authorities." The padre was not smiling. "Theft of Church records is a rather serious offense."
"This tape-and the one that was stolen - is a many-times-enlarged duplicate of the archive original. Any microscopic scanner will play it back." He rose. "If you want to see it again use the machine in the booth two alcoves over. I'll be at the monitor's desk if you want me for anything."
Flinx nodded slowly as the padre tamed, walked away.
Challis! Thief, would-be murderer, casual destroyer of other's lives-next time he might let Pip kiH him. The Commonwealth would be a little cleaner for the absence of ... Something burned his shoulder and nearly yanked him from the chair.
Pip had all but exploded from his shoulder perch, fast enough to mark the skin beneath Flinx's jumpsait. Fumbling the cassette into a pocket, he scrambled to his feet and raced down the aisle after his panicked pet.
"Pip ... wait ... there's nothing wrong ...!"
The minnidrag had already reached the entrance. Both Namoto and the monitor on duty had moved away from the desk. They were watching the snake warily while backing slowly away. The minidrag beat at the translucent plexite for a moment as Flinx rushed from the booth aisle. He was calling to the reptile verbally and mentally, praying that the snake would relax before someone, gentle and understanding or not, took a shot at him.
The minidrag backed off, fluttering and twisting in the air, and spat once. A loud hissing sound, and a large irregular hole appeared in the door. Flinx made a desperate grab for the receding tail, but too late-the elusive reptile had already squeezed through the aperture.
"Open the door," he yelled, "I've got to go after him!"
The attendant stood paralyzed until Namoto murmured tensely, "Open the door, Yena."
Yena moved rapidly then. "Yes, sir-should I sound an alarm?"
Namoto looked to Flinx, who was ready to rip the door from its glide. "Pip wouldn't hurt anyone unless he sensed a threat to me."
"Then what's the matter with him?" the padre asked as the door slid back. Flinx plunged through, the padre close behind.
"I don't know ... there he goes! Pip ...!"
The curling tail was just vanishing around a bend in the corridor. Flinx plunged after.
In the twists and turns of the labyrinthine building, Flinx occasionally lost sight of his pet. But ashen-faced human personnel and thranx with uncontrollably shivering antennae marked the minidrag's path as clearly as a trail of crimson lacquer. Despite his bulk, Padre Namoto remained close behind Flinx.
It felt as if they had run around kilometers of corners before they finally caught up with the minidrag. Pip was beating leathery wings against another doorway, much larger than any Flinx had seen so far.
Only this time there was more than a single studious monitor in attendance. Two men wearing aquamarine uniforms were crouched behind a flanking tubular barrier. Each had a small beamer trained on the fluttering mirndrag. Flinx could see a small knot of Church personnel huddled expectantly at the far end of the corridor.
"Don't shoot!" he howled frantically. "He won't hurt anyone!" Slowing, he moved closer to his pet. But Pip refused every summons, remaining resolutely out of grabbing range as he continued to beat at the doors.
"Whatever's berserked him is on the other side." He called to the two armed men. "Let him through."
"That's a restricted area, boy," one of them said, trying to divide his attention between the flying and this new arrival.
"Let us through," a slightly winded Namoto ordered, moving out where he could be seen clearly. The guard's voice turned respectful.
. "Sorry, Padre, we didn't know you were in charge of this."
"I'm not, the snake is. But open the doors anyway. My authority."
Flinx had barely a minute to wonder exactly how important his helpful guide was before the surprisingly thick double doors started to separate. Pip squeezed through the minimal opening and an impatient Flinx had to wait another moment before the gap was wide enough to admit him.
Then he was on the other side, which proved to be a corridor no different from any of the many he had al- ready traversed.
Except...
Except for the bank of six lifts before him. Two padre-elects were waiting in front of the lift at far left. One was a very old, tall, and oddly deformed human. He stood next to a young female thranx.
Pip was hovering in midair as Flinx and Namoto slipped into the corridor. Then he suddenly dived at the couple, completely ignoring the other Church personnel who were beginning to notice the presence of the venomous reptile in their midst.
"Call him off, Flinx," Namoto ordered. There was no hint of obsequiousness in his voice now. He had his beamer out and aimed.
Flinx suddenly sensed what had pulled so strongly at his pet. As Pip dove, the bent old man ducked and dodged with shocking agility, fairly throwing his young companion against the lift door. She twisted herself as she was shoved. It was sufficient to prevent a nasty break, but too weak to keep her from slamming hard into the unyielding metal. Shiny blue-green legs collapsed and she folded up against the door.
The old cleric's extraordinary suppleness caused Namoto and the others to delay intervening. Producing a beamer of his own from within the folds of his robes, the man-who had yet to utter a word, even a simple cry for help--took a wild shot at Pip. The minidrag spat, and inhuman reflexes enabled his target to just avoid the corrosive venom. It scorched the finish on the wall behind him.
"Pip, that's enough!" Something in his master's voice apparently satisfied the minidrag. Hesitating briefly, the reptile pivoted in midair and raced back to Flinx. But the flying snake still felt uncomfortable enough to disdain his normal shoulder perch, opting in- stead to remain hovering warily near Flinx's right ear.
For several silent seconds a mass of people were momentarily unified by the paralysis of uncertainty. Then Namoto broke the spell. "What branch are you working with, sir?" he inquired of the object of Pip's assault. "I don't believe I recognize ..."
The padre became silent as the beamer recently directed against the snake shifted to cover him. Trying to look in every direction at once, the man moved a shifting, glacial glare over the small crowd which had gathered. No one challenged him, electing instead to wait and watch.
"Keep back, all of you," he finally warned. His accent was one Flinx did not recognize, the words almost more whistled than articulated.
As the man began backing toward the portal Flinx and Namoto had just passed through, Flinx cautiously edged around to where he could aid the injured young thranx. She was just regaming consciousness when he came near her. Getting both hands around her thorax, he lifted steadily. "He ... threatened to kill me," she was murmuring groggily, still none too steady on trulegs and foothands. He could feel her b-thorax pulsing with uneven breathing.
Abruptly in control of herself again, the thranx looked accusingly across at her attacker. "He said if I didn't take him down to command level he'd kill me!"
"You can't get out of this building, sir," Namoto informed the man whom the girl had just accused. "I'm going to have to ask you to put down that beamer and come with me." The beamer waved at him and the padre ceased his approach after a single step.
"To be rational is to live," the man whistle-talked.
Without releasing his grip on the beamer, the man reached into the folds of his robes-exceptionally voluminous they were, Flinx noted. A moment's search produced a small brown cube sporting wires and several awkwardly installed knobs.
"This is a hundred-gram casing of kelite- enough to kill everyone in this corridor." His explanation was enough to send the younger of the watching acolytes scurrying in retreat.
Namoto didn't budge. "No volume of explosives could get you out of this complex," he informed the nervous man, his voice steady now. "Furthermore, although that cube looks like a kelite casing, I find that most unlikely, since no volume of explosives can get into this complex without being detected. Furthermore, I don't think you're an authorized member of the Church. If that's true, then you can't be in possession of an activated beamer."
The padre took another step forward.
"Keep away, or you'll find out whether it's activated or not!" the man shouted shrilly.
Every eye in the corridor was locked on the two principals in the threatening standoff-every intelligent eye.
Flinx thought he saw something move close to the ceiling, suddenly glanced to his right. Pip was no longer there.
There was no way of telling whether the same thought occurred simultaneously to the old man, or whether he simply detected motion overhead. Whatever the cause, he was ducking and firing before Flinx could shout to his pet.
Namoto had been right and wrong. The tiny weapon looked like a beamer but wasn't. Instead it fired a tiny projectile that just passed under the minidrag's writhing body. The projectile hit the far wall and bounced to the floor. Whatever it was was nonexplosive, all right; but Flinx doubted its harmlessness.
This time, Pip was too close to dodge. Powerful muscles in jaws and neck forced the poison out through the hypodermal tube in the minidrag's mouth. The poison missed the eyes, but despite his uncanny agility, the old man couldn't avoid the attack completely. The venom grazed head and neck. A sizzling sound came from dissolving flesh, and the man emitted an unexpected piercing hiss, sounding like an ancient steam engine blowing its safety valve.
It was not a sound the human throat could manufacture.
Namoto and Flinx rushed the falling figure. But even as he was collapsing he was fumbling with the cube of "kelite."
The confidence of a dying man was reason enough for Namoto to fall to the floor and yell a warning to everyone else. Suddenly there was a muffled explosion-but one far smaller than Mite would have produced, and it did not come from the brownish cube. A few screams from the crowd, and the threat past.
As Flinx climbed back to his feet, he realized that Namoto's observations were once again confused. First, the beamer had turned out to be a weapon, but not a beamer. And now it seemed this intruder had succeeded in smuggling a minimal amount of explosive into the complex, but not enough to hurt anyone else. If it was indeed kelite, it was a minute amount; but nonetheless, it made an impressive mess of the man's middle. His internals were scattered all over this end of the corridor.
Flinx was still panting when Pip settled around his shoulder once again. Moving forward, he joined Namoto in examining the wreckage of what minutes before had been a living creature.
With death imminent, the creature's mind had cleared, his thoughts strengthened multifold. Flinx suddenly found his head assailed with a swirl of unexpected images and word-pictures, but it was the familiarity of one which shocked him so badly that he stumbled.
Flinx could sense the ghostly rippling picture of a fat man he desired strongly to see again, the man he had given up hope of ever relocating: Conda Challis. This vision was mixed with a world-picture and the picture- world had the name Ulru-Ujurr. Many other images competed for his attention, but the unexpected sight of Challis in the dying intruder's mind overwhelmed them beyond identification.
Pip had sensed his master's fury at that very individual long minutes ago, back in the archives. Then this wretched person suddenly-undoubtedly-pictured the very same merchant, in terms unfavorable to Flinx. So Pip had reacted in proportion to Flinx's emotional state. Whether the minidrag would still have attacked the stranger had he not drawn a weapon was something Flinx would never know.
Namoto was studying the corpse.. The explosion had been contained but intense. Little was left to connect the head and upper torso with the legs. Most of the body between had been destroyed.
Reaching down, the padre felt what appeared to be a piece of loose skin. He tugged ... and the skin came away, revealing a second epidermis beneath. It was shiny, pebbled, and scaly--as inhuman as that final cry had been.
As inhuman as the thoughts Flinx had entered.
A low murmur of astonishment began to rise in the crowd, continuing as Namoto, kneeling, pulled and tore away the intricate molding which formed the false facial structure. When the entire skull had been exposed, Namoto rose, his gaze moving to the sample of forged flesh he held in one hand. "A nye," he observed matter-of-factly. He dropped the shard of skin, wiped his hands on his lower robe.
"An adult AAnn," someone in the crowd muttered.
"In here!"
"But why? What did he hope to accomplish with so small an explosive?"
Someone called for attention from the back of the crowd, held up a tiny shape. "Crystal syringe-dart," she explained. "That's how he got past the detectors-no beamer, no explosive-shell weapon."
"Surely," someone approached Namoto, "he didn't come all this way with all this elaborate preparation, just to kill someone with a little dart gun?"
"I don't think so, either," the padre commented, gazing down at the body. "That explosive-that was a suicide charge, designed to kill him in the event of discovery. But perhaps it was also there to destroy some- thing else."
"What kind of something else?" the same person wondered.
"I don't know. But we're going to analyze this corpse before we dispose of it." Kneeling again, Namoto pawed slowly through the cauterized meat. "He was well armed as far as it went-his insides are full of pulverized crystal. Must have been carrying several dozen of those syringe-darts."
Flinx jerked at the observation, started to say some- thing-then turned his budding comment into a yawn. He couldn't prove a thing, and it was an insane sup- position anyway. Besides, if by some miracle he were half right, he would certainly be subjected to a year of questioning by Church investigators. He might never find Conda Challis then. Worse, by that time the indifferent merchant might have destroyed the missing record he had stolen, that remaining piece in the puzzle of Flinx's life.
So he could not afford to venture a childish opinion on what those fragments might be of.
A full crew of uniformed personnel entered the corridor. Some began dispersing the still buzzing crowd while others commenced an intensive examination of the corpse.
One small, very dark human glanced casually at the organic debris, then walked briskly over to confront the padre.
"Hello, Namoto."
"Sir," the padre acknowledged, with so much respect in his voice that Flinx was drawn from his own personal thoughts to consideration of the new arrival. "He was well disguised."
"An AAnn," the short package of mental energy noted. "They're feeling awfully bold when they try to slip one of their own in here. I wonder what his purpose was?"
Flinx had an idea, but it formed part of the information he had chosen not to disclose. Let these brilliant Churchmen figure it out for themselves. After he recovered the lost piece of himself from Challis, then he would tell them what he had guessed. Not before.
While the new man talked with Namoto, Flinx turned his attention back to the swarm of specialists studying the corpse. This was not the first time he had encountered the reptilian AAnn, though it was the time in the flesh.
An uneasy truce existed between the Humanx Commonwealth and the extensive stellar empire of the AAnn. But that didn't keep the reptilians from probing for weak spots within the human-thranx alliance at every opportunity.
"Who penetrated its disguise?"
"I did, sir," Flinx informed him, "or rather, my pet did, Pip." He fondled the smooth triangular head and the minidrag's eyes closed with pleasure.
"How," Namoto asked pointedly, "did the snake know?" He turned to his superior, added for his benefit, "We were in genealogy at the time, sir, halfway around the complex."
Flinx's reply walked a fine line between truth and prevarication. What he left out was more important, however, than what he said.
"The minidrag can sense danger, sir," he explained smoothly. "Pip's an empathic telepath and we've been together long enough to develop a special rapport. He obviously felt the AAnn posed a threat, however distant, to me and he reacted accordingly."
"Obviously," murmured the smaller man noncommittally. He turned to face the young thranx. "How are you involved in this Padre-elect?"
She stopped preening her antennae, snapped to a pose of semiattention. "I was on monitor duty at the lift station, sir. I thought it was a human. He approached me and said he had to go down to command level."
Down to-Flinx's mind started envisioning what wasn't visible.
"I wondered why he didn't simply use his own lift pass. No one without a pass should be allowed this far. He had one, and showed it to me. He insisted that either it didn't work or else that the lift receptor was out of order."
She looked downward. "I suppose I ought to have sensed something then, but I did not."
Namoto spoke comfortingly. "How could you know?
As you say, he got this far. His forgery wasn't good enough to fool the lift security 'puter, though."
"Anyway," she continued, "I tried my own pass on Lift One, and it responded perfectly. Then I tried his and it didn't even key the Acknowledge light. So he asked me to call a lift for him. I told him it would be better to have his pass checked for malfunction, first. He said he didn't have time, but I was obstinate. That's when he pulled the weapon and told me to call him a lift or he'd kill me."
Flinx noted that she was still unsteady despite the support of four limbs.
"Then these two gentlemen arrived, just as I was about to call the lift." She indicated Flinx and Namoto.
'You couldn't sound an alarm?" the smaller man wondered gruffly.
She made an elaborate thranx gesture of helplessness with her truhands.
"When he pulled the weapon I was away from the silent alarm at the desk, sir. I couldn't think of a reason to get back to it ... and, I was frightened, sir. I'm sorry. It was so unexpected. ..." She shivered again. "I had no reason to suspect it was an AAnn."
"He looked human to everybody else," Flinx said comfortingly. The valentine-shaped head looked gratefully across at him. Though that face was incapable of a smile, she clicked her mandibles at him in thanks.
"Every experience that doesn't end in death is valuable," the short man pontificated. That appeared to end her involvement as far as he was concerned. His attention was directed again to the people working with the body.
"Get this cleaned up and report to me as soon as preliminary analysis is completed," he snapped. His motions, Flinx noted, were quick, sharp, as if he moved as well as thought faster than the average being. One of those movements fixed Flinx under a penetrating stare. "That's an interesting pet you have, son. An empathic telepath, you say?"
"From a world called Alaspin, sir," Flinx supplied helpfully.
The man nodded. "I know of them, but I never expected to see one. Certainly not a tame one. He senses danger to you, hmmm?"
Flinx smiled slightly. "He makes a very good body- guard."
"I dare say." He extended a hand too big for his body. "I'm Counselor Second Joshua Jiwe."
Flinx now understood the deference which had been shown this man. He shook his hand slowly. "I never expected to meet anyone so high in the Church hierarchy, sir." Though he didn't add that in Bran Tse-Mallory and Truzenzuzex, who had been with him in the hunt for the Tar-Aiym Krang, he had met two who had at one time ranked even higher.
"I'm in charge of Depot security." Again that head whipped around, instead of turning normally, to face Namoto. "What do you know about this young man?"
"He's come a long way in search of his natural parents. I've been doing my best to help him locate traces of them."
"I see." Jiwe spun on Flinx again. "No doubt you're anxious to leave?"
"I've done everything here I can," Flinx admitted. Jiwe could be the man to ask the awkward questions Flinx always feared.
The Counselor Second reminded him of a Canish, a small, superactive little carnivore that haunted the chill forests of Moth. It was a quick, sharp-eyed killer whose movements were as hard to pin down as a muffled curse in a crowd, and a threat to creatures many times its size.
Like this Jiwe, Flinx suspected. The man was too interested in Pip and in the minidrag's relationship to Flinx. It was difficult to concentrate on Jiwe, however, when Flinx's mind was still astorm with the knowledge that Conda Challis had appeared in the thoughts of the dying AAnn. What had a human merchant to do with the lizards?
"Are you all right, Flinx?" Namoto was eying him concernedly. "You looked dazed."
"I was. I was drifting home in my mind ... where my body ought to be headed."
"And where is that?" Jiwe inquired interestedly.
Damn the man! "A central trading world, name of Moth, city of Drallar."
The Counselor looked thoughtful. "I know the world. Interesting, a lightly populated planet with a long history of settlement. Very independent-minded people. The local government's a benevolent monarchy, I believe."
Flinx nodded.
"An indifferent monarchy would be more accurate, I think," ventured Namoto.
The Counselor smiled. "It all amounts to the same thing as far as the locals are concerned." He even grinned like a Canish, Flinx mused.
"And you say you can occasionally sense his thoughts and he yours, son?"
"Feelings, not thoughts, sir," Flinx corrected hastily.
The Counselor seemed to consider for a moment before asking, "I wonder if you'd have a minute or two to spare? We won't delay your departure very long. If you'll just accompany us downstairs ..."
"Sir ..." Namoto started to interrupt, but the Counselor waved his objection away.
"It doesn't matter. This is a perceptive young man and he's heard more than enough to know by now that there are levels to the Depot below what is visible on the surface. I think he's sufficiently mature to know when to keep his mouth shut and what not to talk loosely about." He stared piercingly at Flinx. "Aren't you, son?"
Flinx nodded vigorously, and the Counselor rewarded him with another quasi-carnivorous smile. "Good ... I like a free spirit. Now then, we have a small problem we've been unable to solve. You might be able to approach it differently than anyone else. All I ask is that you make an effort for us. Afterward, regardless of the results, we'll put you on an atmospheric shuttle free to anywhere on Terra. What do you say?"
Since he couldn't very well refuse the offer without making the Counselor twice as suspicious of his peculiar abilities as he already was, Flinx smiled cheerfully and replied with a marvelous imitation of innocent enthusiasm.
"I’ll be happy to do anything I can, of course!"
"I thought you might say that. I hoped so. Padre Namoto, you might as well join us-this could be instructive. Someone else can temporarily cover your normal duties." He gestured at the reptilian corpse. "Security will be working with this mess for quite a while yet."
Then he turned to face the young thranx. "Padreelect Sylzenzuzex, you were about to call a lift. Do so now."
"Yes, sir." She appeared to have recovered completely from the shock of her near-abduction. Returning the Counselor's request with a poised salute of truhand and left antenna, she moved to the nearest lift door and inserted a complex three-pronged card into a slot on its right.
Following an intricate push-and-twist of the card, the slot immediately lit with a soft green glow. A matching telltale winked on above the doorway, beeped three times. Sliding silently aside, the door revealed an elevator car of surprising size.
Flinx entered after the padre-elect. Something ... something about her was nudging a familiar memory. The thought faded as his attention was caught by the rank of numbers set just inside the door.
In descending order the panel read: 2-1-0-1-2-3- and so on down to twelve. Twelve stories below ground level and only three above. Mentally, he smiled, remembering. Now he was certain that his groundcar driver had been something more than a talkative oldster. But he hadn't lied to Flinx-he had simply described the Depot only as it was, without bothering to mention what couldn't be seen.
The thranx inserted the card into a slot below the panel of numbers. Flinx saw there were no switches, buttons, or other controls. Someone without a card might force the doorway into a lift, but without that intricate triangle-shape it could not be activated.
She cocked her head toward Jiwe. "Sir?"
"Seventh level," the Counselor directed her, "quadrant thirty-three."
"That's the hospital, isn't it, sir? I don't get out that way very often."
"That's right. Padre-elect."
Inserting the card into the slot, she made another complex turn with it. The number seven lit on the panel, and a long series of tiny numbers appeared within the material of the card itself. Holding it firmly in place, she slipped one digit over the number 33. As soon as the light was covered, the door slid shut.
Flinx felt the lift move downward, accelerate, and shift in directions he could not follow. Several minutes later it stopped. Combining changes of direction with an approximation of their steady, smooth speed, he decided rapidly that they were no longer beneath the visible structure of the Depot.
When the door finally slid aside Flinx stepped out into a crowd of humans and thranx that was startling in its density. Here white was the predominant color of clothing, though every uniform, robe, or jumpsuit was touched at some spot or another with the identifying aquamarine.
Jiwe and Namoto led while Flinx lagged behind, keeping pace with the young thranx. His nagging supposition concerning her had blossomed impossibly.
She spoke first, however, reaching up to put a delicate truhand on his free shoulder. "I did not have a chance to thank you and your pet for saving my life. My delay shames me. Accept those thanks now."
He inhaled deeply of her natural fragrance. "All the thanks belong to Pip, not me," he mumbled, embarrassed. "Listen, what did the Counselor call you?" "Padre-elect. The rank is approximately-"
"Not that," he corrected curiously. "Yonr name."
"Oh... Sylzenzuzex."
"That would break down as Syl, of the Hive Zen, family Zu, the Clan Zex?"
"That's right," she acknowledged, unsurprised. Any human could break down a thranx name. "What's yours?"
"Flinx ... yes, one calling. But I've another reason for making certain of yours, one that goes beyond exchanging identification." They rounded a bend in the pastel-walled corridor.
"You see. I think I know your uncle...."