She paused, all four running limbs cocked beneath her in preparation for a quick sprint toward the monitor's desk. Flinx's words rolled about in her head.
"Yes," she finally admitted, "you saved my life. I'd forgotten, for a moment."
"Then by the Hive, the Mother-Queen and the miracle of metamorphosis," he intoned solemnly, "I now call that debt due."
She tried to sound amused, but he could see she was shaken. "That's a funny oath. Is it designed to tease children?"
For emphasis he repeated it again ... this time in High Thranx. It was difficult and he stumbled over the clicks and hard glottal stops.
"So you know it," she murmured, slumping visibly, then glancing at the monitor sitting quietly at the distant desk. Flinx knew that a single shout could bring a multitude of armed personnel-and angry questions. He was gambling everything that she wouldn't, that the ancient and powerful life-debt sworn on that high oath would restrain her.
It did. She looked at him pleadingly. "I'm barely adult, Flinx. I still have all my wingcases and I shed my adolescent chiton only a year ago. I've never been wed. I don't want to die, Flinx, for your unexplained obsession. I love my studies and the Church and my potential future. Don't shame me before my family and my Clan. Don't ... make me do this.
"I'd like to help you ... truly I would. You've apparently had more than your share of unhappiness and indifference. But please try to understand-"
"I haven't got time to understand," he snapped, shutting her up before she weakened his resolve. He had to get to Ulru-Ujurr, if there was even a chance Challis had fled there. "If I'd taken time to understand, I'd be dead half a dozen times already. I call on that oath for you to pay your debt to me."
"I agree then," she replied in a dull voice. "I must. You drown me in your dream." And she added some- thing indicative of hopelessness mixed with contempt.
For a brief moment, for a second, he was ready to tell her to disappear, to leave the room, to run away. The moment passed. He needed her.
If he went directly to someone like Jiwe and told him he had to go to Ulni-Ujurr the Counselor would smile and shrug his shoulders. If he told him about his theory concerning the Janus jewels, Jiwe would demand details, reasons, source of suspicions. That would mean owning up to his talents, something he simply couldn't do.
The Church, for all its goodwill and good works, was still a massive bureaucracy. It would put its own concerns above his. "Sure," they would tell him, "we'll help you find your real parents. But first ..."
That "first" could last forever, he knew, or at least until a bored Challis had destroyed the last link between Flinx and his heritage. Nor was he convinced they would help him even if he did reveal himself fully - he wasn't certain the Church's adaptability extended to breaking its own Edict.
He was going to Ulru-Ujurr, no matter what, though he couldn't tell anyone the real reason why. Not even the silently waiting Sylzenzuzex, who stared at the floor with the look of the living dead. Surely, though, she would be fully reinstated when it became known she had accompanied him under duress.
Surely...
After Sylzenzuzex had applied for and, as a matter of course, received her accumulated leave of several Terran weeks, they took an atmospheric shuttle back to Brisbane Shuttleport. To the questioning machine she had explained that it was time for her to visit her parents on Hivehom. Throughout it all, Flinx never wavered in his determination to take her with him. This couldn't be helped. She was frigidly polite in response to his questions. By mutual agreement they did not engage in casual small talk.
They were held up in Brisbane for over a week while Flinx concluded the complex arrangements required for renting a small, autopiloted KK-drive ship. Private vessels capable of interstellar travel were not commonly available.
Malaika had been very generous, but the three-day rental fee exhausted the remainder of Flinx's credit account. That didn't trouble him, since he was already guilty of kidnaping. It would hardly matter when the ship broker sent collectors to stalk him after three days had elapsed without his return. He would worry about repaying the astronomical debt he was about to incur another time. If he returned, he reminded himself. The Church had not slapped an Edict on Ulru-Ujurr out of bored perversity. There was a reason ... and there was always Challis.
Sylzenzuzex knew less about astrogation than he did. If the broker had lied to him about the little ship's self-sufficiency, they would never get to Ulru-Ujurr- or anywhere else.
As a matter of fact, she explained, her chosen field was archeology. Security was only her student specialty. Hivehom's early primitive insectoid societies had always fascinated her. She had dreamed of studying them for the rest of her life, once she graduated and returned home as a full padre-something that would never happen now, she reminded him bitterly.
He ignored her. He had to, or his resolve would crack. Once more he wondered at why an apparently innocuous, inhabitable planet like Ulru-Ujurr should have been placed Under Edict. The information they had studied in Galographics, the long lists of cold sta tistics that had led him in short order to abduction and fraud and debt, neglected to elaborate on that small matter.
At least one worry was quickly allayed when the powerful little vessel made the supralight jump that took them out of immediate pursuit range. According to simplified readouts, the ship was proceeding at maximum cruising speed on course for the coordinates Flinx had provided it.
Flinx wasn't really concerned that he was worse than broke once again. In a way he was almost relieved. He had spent his entire life in an impecunious state. The abrupt resumption of that familiar condition was like exchanging an expensive dress suit for a favorite pair of old, worn work pants.
The time they spent traveling wasn't wasted. Flinx constantly consulted and questioned the ship's computer, improving his rudimentary knowledge of navigation and ship operation while staying a respectful distance from the autopilot override. He was not ashamed of his ignorance. All KK-drive ships were essentially computer-run. Stellar distances and velocities were far too overwhelming for simple organic minds to manipulate. The humanx crew present on the large KK freightliners was there merely to serve the needs of passengers and cargo, and as a precaution. They constituted the flexible fail-safe, ready to take over in the event the ship's machine mind malfunctioned.
It was fortunate that he was so interested in the ship, because Sylzenzuzex proved to be anything but a lively companion. She preferred instead to remain in her cabin, emerging only to pick up her meals from the autochef. Gradually, however, even the patience of one accustomed to underground living began to wear thin, and she spent more and more time on the falsely luxurious bridge of the ship. Still, when she deigned to say anything at all, her conversation was confined to mono- syllabic comments of utter despondency.
Such willing submission to reality grated against Flinx's nature even more than her silence. "I don't understand you, Sylzenzazex. You're like a person attending her own wake. I told you I'll confirm that I kidnaped yon against your will. Surely everyone will have to admit you're blameless for anything that happens?"
"You just don't understand," she muttered sibilantly. "I could not lie like that. Not to my superiors in the Church, or to my family or hive-mother. Certainly not to my parents. I went with you willingly." Her exquisite head, shining like the sea in the overhead lighting, dipped disconsolately.
"You're not making sense," Flinx argued vehemently. "You had no choice! I called on you to fulfill a hereditary debt. How can anyone blame you for that? As for our forbidden destination-that was wholly my choice. You bad nothing to say about my decision and you have voiced plenty of objections to it." As he talked, his pre-prepared meal lay cooling in its container nearby. Meanwhile Pip's jet eyes stared pensively up at his troubled master.
Sylzenzuzex stared across at him. "There are still some things humans do not understand about us," and she turned away as if those were to be her last words on the subject.
Always the convenient phrase, Flinx thought furiously. Whether human or thranx, it mattered not-always the ready willingness to seek refuge in absolutes. Why were supposedly intelligent beings so terrified of reason? He stared out the foreport, frustrated beyond measure. The universe did not run on emotional principles. He had never been able to understand how people could.
"Have it your way," Flinx grumbled. "We'll stick to more immediate concerns. Tell me about this peace-forcer station that's supposed to prevent us from landing on this world."
There was a whistling sound as a large dollop of air was forced out through breathing spicules - a thranx sigh. "Peaceforcers, more likely. There should be anywhere from one to four of them in synchronous orbit around the planet. I'm not certain 'because so few worlds are Under Edict that the subject is rarely brought up for discussion. So, of course there is no information whatsoever on .the worlds themselves. Being Under Edict, as they say, is a situation discussed more as a possibility than a fact.
"I would imagine," she concluded, walking over to a console and gazing idly at the instrumentation, "that we will be signaled or intercepted in some fashion and ordered to leave."
"What if we ignore any such warning?"
She made a thranx shrug. "Then we're likely to have our wingcases blown off."
Flinx's tone turned sarcastic. "I thought the Church was an interspecies purveyor of gentleness and understanding."
"That's right," she shot back, "and it provides a lot of comfort and assurance to everyone to know that the Church's decrees are enforced." Her voice rose. "Do you think that the Church puts a whole world Under Edict because of some counselor's whim?"
"I don't know," he replied, unperturbed. "Probably we'll get the chance to find out...."
Without warning a flying fortress appeared out of nowhere. One minute they were alone in free-space, cycling in toward the fourth planet of an undistinguished sun, and the next a craft with six points projecting from its principal axes had matched their speed and was cruising alongside. This ship was many times the size of their small vessel.
"Automated peaceforce station twenty-four," a mechanical voice said pleasantly over the speakers. The tridee screen could not pick up any picture.
"To undeclared vessel class sixteen-R. In the name of the Church and the Commonwealth you are hereby notified that the world you approach is Under Edict. You are directed to reverse your present course and re-engage your double-K drive. No vessel is permitted to make shuttlefall on the fourth planet, nor to remain in the vicinity of this sun.
"You have thirty standard minutes from the conclusion of this notification to reprogram your navigational computer. Do not, repeat, do not attempt to approach" within scanner range of the fourth world. Do not at- tempt to move closer than five planetary diameters. Failure to comply with the aforementioned regulations will be dealt with appropriately."
"A polite way of saying it'll blow us to small pieces," Sylzenznzex commented dryly. "Now can we go back?"
Flinx didn't reply. He was busy studying the mass of metal drifting next to them. That it was supremely fast, far faster than this small craft, had already been demonstrated. Without question, several weapons of various destructive capabilities were trained on the bridge even as he wondered what to do next. They could no more make a desperate dash for the planet's surface than he could outrun a devilope on the plains bordering the Gelerian Swamp, back home.
"This is why I've brought you," he told the waiting thranx. "It sure wasn't for the pleasure of your company." Flinx moved aside, revealing activated instrumentation. "Here's the tridee. Give it your name, Church identity number. Security code-whatever it takes to gain clearance to land."
She didn't budge, her legs seemingly rooted in the metal floor. "But it won't listen to me."
"Try."
"I ... I won't do it."
"You're under life-oath, you've sworn on your Hive," he reminded her between clenched teeth, hating himself more with every word.
Again the symmetrical head drooped; again the hollow, defeated voice. "Very well." She shuffled over to the console.
"I'm telling you for the last time," she told him, "that if you make me do this, it's as if you've banished me from the Church yourself, Flinx."
"I happen to have more confidence in your own organization than you apparently do besides, if after a full explanation of the circumstances they actually do kick you out, then I don't think the organization's worthy of you."
"How sure you are," she said calmly, concluding with a sound so harsh it made Flinx flinch.
"Go ahead," he ordered.
She tested the broadcast, then rattled off a series of superfast words and numbers. Flinx could barely identify them, much less make any sense of the steady stream of hybrid babble. It occurred to him that she might just as well have given the fortress the command to destroy them. That unpleasant thought passed when nothing happened. After all, survival was as strong a thranx drive as it was a human one.
Instead, the announcement brought the hoped-for result. "Emergency temporary cancellation received and understood," came the stiff voice. "Processing."
Two minutes stretched long as two years while Flinx waited for the final reply.
Then: "Other stations notified. You may proceed."
There was no time to waste on giving thanks. Flinx rushed to the navigation input and verbally instructed the ship to take up a low orbit around the temperate equatorial zone, above the largest continent. The detector devices on the ship were then to begin a search for any sign of surface communications facilities-anything that would indicate the presence of humanx settlement.
Anywhere someone like Challis could exist.
"What if there isn't anything like that," Sylzenzuzex asked, her face paling as the ship pulled away from the orbiting fortress. "There's a whole world down there, bigger than Hivehom, bigger than Terra."
"There'11 be someplace developed," he assured her. His confident tone belied the uncertainty in his mind.
There was. Only they didn't locate it-it found them.
"What ship ... what ship ...?" the speakers crackled as soon as they entered parking orbit. The query came in perfect symbospeech, though whether from thranx or human throat he couldn't tell.
Flinx moved to the pickup. "Who's calling?" he asked, a mite inanely.
"What ship?" the voice demanded.
This could go on for hours. He responded with the first thing that sounded halfway plausible. "This is the private research vessel Chamooth on Church-related business, out from Terra."
There, that wasn't a complete lie. His abduction of Sylzenzuzex certainly constituted Church-related business, and he had been led here by information in Church files.
A long pause followed while unseen beings at the other end of the transmission digested this. Finally: "Shuttleport coordinates for you are as follows."
Flinx scrambled to record the information. His ruse had gotten them that much. After they landed ... well, he would proceed from there. The numbers translated into a position on a fairly small plateau in the mountains of the southern continent. According to the information, the landing strip bordered an enormous lake at the 14,000-meter-level.
Sweating, muttering at his own awkwardness, Flinx succeeded in positioning the ship over the indicated landing spot with a minimum of corrections to the autopilot. From there it was a rocky, bouncing descent by means of autoprogrammed shuttlecraft to the surface.
Sylzenzuzex was talking constantly now, mostly to herself. "I just don't understand," she kept murmuring over and over, "there shouldn't be anything down there. Not on an edicted world. Not even a Church outpost. This just doesn't make any sense."
"Why shouldn't it make sense?" Flinx asked her, fighting to keep his seat as the tiny shuttle battled powerful crosswinds. "Why shouldn't the Church have business on a world it wants to keep everyone else off of?"
"But only an extreme threat to the good of humanx kind is reason enough for placing a world Under Edict," she protested, her tone one of disbelief. "I've never heard of an exception."
"Naturally not," Flinx agreed, with the surety of one who had experienced many perversities of human and thranx nature. "Because no information is available on worlds which are Under Edict. How very convenient."
The shuttle was banking now, dipping down between vast forested mountain slopes. A denser atmosphere here raised the treeline well above what existed on Moth or Terra. Tarns and alpine lakes were everywhere. At the higher elevations, baby glaciers carved tentative paths downward-even here, near the planet's equator. .
"Commencing landing approach," the shuttle computer informed them. Flinx stared ahead, saw that the plateau the ground-based voice had mentioned was far smaller than he had hoped. This was not a true plateau, but instead a broad glacial plain ice-quarried from the mountains. One side of the plateau-plain was filled with a narrow lake that glistened like an elongated sapphire.
As the shuttle straightened out they rushed past a sheer waterfall at least a thousand meters high, falling to the canyon below in a single unbroken plunge like white steel. This, he decided, was a magnificent world. If only the shuttle would set them down on it in one piece.
His acceleration couch trembled as the ship fired braking jets. Ahead he could now make out the landing strip that ran parallel to the deep lake. At the far end, a tiny cluster of buildings poked above the alluvial gravel and low scrub.
At least the installation here-whoever was manning it-was advanced enough to include automatic landing lock-ons. Built into the fabric of the landing strip itself, they hooked into the corresponding linkups in the belly of the shuttle. The completion of this maneuver was signaled by a violent lurch. Then the landing computer, somewhere below them, took over and brought the shuttle in for a smooth, safe setdown.
Sylzenzu2ex stared out the side port on the left even as she was undoing her straps. "This is insane," she muttered, gazing at the considerable complex of structures nearby, "there can't be a base here. There shouldn't be anything."
"Some anythings," he commented, gesturing toward the pair of large groundcars which were now moving onto the field toward them, "are coming to pay their greetings. Remember now," he reminded her as he calmed a nervous Pip and headed for the access corridor leading to the hatch, "you're here because I forced you to come."
"But not physically," she countered. "I told you before, I can't lie."
"The Horse Head," he murmured, looking skyward. "Be evasive then. Ah, do what you think best. I'm no more going to convert you to reason than you're going to convince me to enter your Church."
Flinx activated the automatic lock, and it began to cycle open. If the atmosphere outside had been un- breathable, despite the information in the Galographics records, the lock would not have opened. As the door plug drew aside, a rippled ramp extended itself, sensors at its far end halting it as soon as it touched solid ground,
Pip was stirring violently, but Flinx kept a firm hand on his pet. Apparently the minidrag perceived some threat again, which would be natural if, say, this was indeed a Church installation. In any case they couldn't take on an entire party which was presumably armed. It took several minutes before he succeeded in convincing his pet to relax, regardless of what happened next.
Flinx took a deep breath as he started down the ramp. Sylzenzuzex trooped morosely behind, lost in morose thought. Despite the altitude, the air here was thick and rich in oxygen. It more than counteracted the slightly stronger gravity.
Snow-crowned crags rose around, the valley on three sides. Except for the glacial plain they now stood on, the valley and mountain slopes were furred with a thick coat of great trees. Green was still the predominant color but there was a substantial amount of yellow-hued vegetation. Their branches rose stiffly skyward, no doubt to be fully spread by the winter snowfall.
The temperature was perfect-about 20°C. At least, it was as far as Flinx was concerned. Sylzenzuzex was already cold, and the dry air did nothing to help the flexibility of her exoskeletal joints.
"Don't worry," he said, trying to cheer her as the groundcars drew near, "there must be quarters pro- vided for thranx personnel. You can warm up soon."
And explain your story to the local authority in private if you wish, he added silently.
His thoughts were broken as the first big car pulled to a halt before them. As he waited Flinx kept a tight grip on Pip, holding the tense minidrag at the wing joints to prevent any sudden flight. Yet despite the minutes he had already spent calming his pet, Pip still struggled. When he finally settled down, he coiled painfully tight around Flinx's shoulder.
People began to emerge from the groundcar. They did not wear aquamarine robes of the Church, nor the crimson of the Commonwealth. They did not look like Commonwealth-registered operatives, either, and they were carrying ready beamers.
Seven armed men and women spread out in a half- circle which covered the two arrivals. They moved with an efficiency Flinx did not like. As the second car arrived and began to disgorge its passengers, several members of the first group broke off to run up the ramp and disappear into the shuttle.
"Now listen ..." Flinx began easily. One of the men in the group waved his beamer threateningly.
"I don't know who you are, but for now, shut up."
Flinx complied readily, as Sylzenzuzex-frozen now with more than the cold-stood behind him and studied their captors.
Several minutes passed before the pair who had entered the shuttle reemerged and shouted down to their companions: "There's no one else aboard, and no weapons."
"Good. Resume your positions."
Flinx turned to the squat, middle-aged woman who had spoken. She was standing directly opposite him. She had the face of one who had seen too many things too soon and whose youth had been a time of blasted hopes and unfulfilled dreams. A vivid scar ran back from a corner of one eye in a jagged curve to her ear, then down the side of her neck to disappear beneath her high collar. Its livid whiteness was shocking against her dusky skin. She flaunted the scar like a favorite necklace. He noticed that her simple garb of work pants, boots, and high-necked overblouse had seen plenty of use.
Taking out a pocket communicator, she spoke into it: "Javits says there's no one else on board and no weapons." A mumble too soft and distant for Flinx to understand issued from the compact unit's speaker.
"No, instruments don't show any automatic senders aboard, either. Has the ship in orbit responded again?" Another pause, then, "It looks like there's only the two of them."
She flipped off the unit, stuck it back in her utility belt and regarded Flinx and Sylzenzuzex. "Does anyone know you've come here?"
"You don't expect me to make it easy for you, do you?" Flinx responded, to divert attention from Sylzenzuzex as well as to answer the query.
"Funny boy." The woman took a deliberate step forward, raised the beamer back over her left shoulder. Pip stirred and she suddenly became aware that the minidrag was not a decoration.
"I wouldn't do that," Flinx told her softly. She eyed the snake.
"Toxic?"
"Very."
She didn't smile back. "We can kill it and the both of you, you know."
"Sure," agreed Flinx pleasantly. "But if you swing that beamer at me, then both Pip and I are going to go for your throat. If he doesn't kill you I probably will, no matter how fast this ring of happy faces moves. On the off chance we don't, then I'll be dead and your superior will be damned displeased at not having the chance to question me. Either way, you lose."
Fortunately the woman wasn't the type to act with out thinking. She stepped back, still keeping her beamer trained on him. "Very funny boy," she commented tightly. "Maybe the Madam will let me have you after she's finished asking her questions. Act as smart as you like. You've got a short future." She gestured sharply with the beamer. "Both of you-into the first car."
They walked between the beamers. Flinx tensed in readiness as he entered the large compartment, saw to his disappointment that two armed and equally tense people were awaiting him inside. No chance of jumping for the controls, then. He climbed in resignedly.
Sylzenzuzex followed him, having to squat uncomfortably on the bare floor because the car was equipped only with human seating, which would not accommodate her frame. Several of the armed guards followed. To Flinx's relief, the squat woman was not among them.
A low hum rose to a whine as the groundcar lifted. Staying a meter above ground, it moved toward the nearby buildings, the second car following close be- hind. As they came nearer, Flinx could see that the complex was built at the edge of the forest. In the distance he could just make out several additional structures bugging the mountainside, high up among the trees.
The cars pulled up before a steeply gabled five-story building. They were escorted inside.
"The buildings here are all slants and angles," Flinx commented to Sylzenzuzex as they made the short walk from car to entranceway. "The trees already show that the snowfall here must be tremendous in winter. And this is the local equivalent of the tropics."
"Tropics," she snorted, her mandibles clacking angrily. "I'm freezing already." Her voice dropped. "It probably doesn't make any difference, since we're likely to be killed soon. Or hasn't it dawned on you that we've stumbled onto a very large illegal installation of some kind?"
"The thought occurred to me," he replied easily.
Taking a lift to the top floor, they came out into a corridor along which a few preoccupied men and women moved on various errands. They were not so absorbed that they failed to look startled at the appearance of Flinx and Sylzenzuzex.
The group made one turn to the left, continued almost to the end of a branch corridor, then stopped. Addressing the door pickup, the squat woman requested and received permission to enter. She disappeared inside, leaving the heavily guarded twosome to wait and think, before the door slid aside once again.
"Send 'em in."
Someone gave Flinx a hard shove that sent him stumbling forward. Sylzenzuzex was introduced into the room with equal roughness.
They stood in a luxurious chamber. Pink-tinted panels revealed a rosy vista of lake and mountains, landing field and - Flinx noted with longing-their parked shuttlecraft. It seemed very far away now.
A small waterfall danced at one end of the room, surrounded by carpets that were more fur than fabric. Thick perfume scented the air, clutched cloyingly at his senses. Behind them the door slid silently shut.
There was another person in the room.
She was seated in a lounge chair near the transparent panels, and was clad in a light gown. Her long blond hair was done up in a triple whirl, the three braids coiled one above each ear and the last at the back of her head. At the moment she was drinking something steaming from a taganou mug.
Scarface addressed her with deference. "They're here, Madam Rudenuaman.”
"Thank you, Linda." The woman turned to face them. Flinx sensed Sylzenzuzex's surprise.
"She's barely older than you or I," she whispered.
Flinx said nothing, merely waited impassively and gazed back into olivine eyes. No, olivine wasn't right - gangrenous would be more appropriate. There was an icy murderousness behind those eyes which he sensed more strongly than the drifting perfume.
"Before I have you killed," the young woman began in a pleasant liquid voice, "I require answers to a few questions. Please keep in mind that you have no hope. The only thing you have any control over whatsoever is the manner of your death. It can be quick and efficient, depending on your willingness to answer my questions, or slow and tedious if you prove reluctant. Though not boring, I assure you...."