Flinx's Folly (10 page)

He decided to regard this as a positive development, confusion offering more promise than conviction.

Clarity was unsure what to think or believe. The man sitting before her had largely faded from her thoughts some years ago. Now here he was again—taller and more mature and handsomer than ever, and just as infuriatingly unsure of himself. They’d been through much together, during which she had fallen in love with him, lost much of that feeling through fear, and then fallen for him all over again. The last thing she wanted now was to take another ride on that emotional roller coaster.

She stared at him, meeting his eyes, trying to see what lay behind that pleasant, entreating gaze. If only she could read his emotions the way he could read hers, she thought. As soon as she contemplated it, she was glad that she could not. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. In that she suspected they had something else in common. She wasn’t sure he wanted to know what he was feeling, either.

Since they’d parted she’d made a good life for herself here on a good world. She’d built something and was on her way to building a good deal more. Visitors from the past could not be allowed to upset that. Especially a genetically altered mutant, no matter how well-intentioned he was today or how helpful he had been in the past.

Like it or not, his unexpected appearance had torn a small rip in the fabric of her comfortable existence. She struggled mentally to repair it and was doing a pretty good job of it, too, when Bill walked in.

The range of emotions Flinx detected in the new arrival was extensive, increasing the moment he took in the pair seated at the table. Curiosity gave way to expectation that was immediately replaced by a mixture of concern, frustration, wariness, uncertainty, and a rising but carefully controlled anger. All natural enough reactions, Flinx supposed, if one assumed the newcomer was in any way emotionally involved with Clarity.

She confirmed his preliminary supposition. Though she did her best to control them, her own emotional reactions were a mixed lot.

“Philip, this is Bill Ormann. Bill, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine, Philip Lynx.”

She smiled. Bill Ormann smiled. Flinx smiled. Without exception, he noted, each smile was present only on the outside. If only everyone had his ability, general conversation would proceed in a far more honest and forthright manner. In the absence of such a development, however, ancient human rituals took precedence.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ormann walked over and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Philip. Any old friend of Clarity’s is a friend of mine,” he declared pleasantly. Inside, Flinx sensed, he was seething with curiosity. Before either of them could reply, Ormann noticed the twin serpentines reposing beneath the window. “I was told about your pet’s corridor runaway, so I came looking for you to make sure everything was all right. I’ve only ever seen one Alaspinian flying snake before, and that’s Scrap.” He glanced back at Flinx. “The other one is yours?”

“Scrap’s mother,” Clarity informed him before Flinx could say anything. Her inner reaction to Ormann’s arrival, Flinx noted with restrained delight, was ambivalent. He chose to take it as a promising sign.

The fact that she and Lynx had something more in common did not sit well with Ormann. Outwardly, he was as cordial as ever. “So, Philip—where do you and Clarity know each other from? She’s told me a few things about her past. Did you two do research together on Longtunnel?”

“Something like that,” Flinx replied truthfully. Across the room, Pip had raised her head and was looking unblinkingly in their direction, alert to the slightest suggestion of hostility toward her master.

Ormann nodded condescendingly. “When she did mention the names of coworkers, it was always senior administrators, never younger colleagues. What position did you hold?”

“Philip gathered general information,” Clarity told him, again speaking before Flinx could respond.

Her explanation appeared to please Ormann. “Field-worker. Well,” he continued expansively, “where would research be without field-workers, eh? Every army needs troops. Where would I, a vice president of Ulricam, be if I didn’t have the support of hundreds of line workers? Right, Philip?”

“Absolutely,” Flinx agreed, seeing no shame in concurring with an opinion on a matter in which he had not the slightest interest.

“How’s the Kerijen project coming, Clarity, darling? You and Armansire continuing to make progress?”

“We’re still modifying fragrances, waiting for a new batch of codes to arrive from Mantis. But it’s coming along.”

“Fine, fine.” A bit of a genuine smile replaced the false one. “We still set for dinner tonight? Fragonard’s is doing pinkfish in a sepper reduction, I understand.”

She hesitated, favoring him with a pleading look. “Could we put it off for a day or two, Bill? Philip and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Of course you do, of course!” Behind Ormann’s crinkled expression, blood boiled. “Take some time to reminisce. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I’ll see that it’s cleared with Personnel.”

“Thanks, Bill,” she replied gratefully. “That’s good of you.”

“How long’s it been, anyway?” he asked conversationally, his attention alternating between her and Flinx. Across the room, Pip was preparing to unfurl her wings. Flinx shot her a calming glance. She settled down but remained wary and alert.

“Six years,” Clarity said.

“That’s a long time to be out of touch.” Ormann felt a little better about her canceling their dinner. “No wonder you have a lot to talk about. I’d join you,” he added paternally, “but I’d just be a third wheel. No reference points for the conversation. You two go ahead and catch up, have a good time.” He leaned toward Clarity. “The pinkfish will wait.”

A raft of conflicting emotions raced through Flinx as they kissed. It was a polite kiss only, but what else would one expect with a third person present? The shallowness of it did not necessarily translate into a paucity of feeling. Certainly Ormann was deeply in love with Clarity. Nor did it necessarily demand one be an empath to discern the bond. Although he bore William Ormann no ill will, the only thing that mattered was how Clarity felt about the relationship, not him.

“I’ll see you later,” Ormann told her affectionately. Turning to leave, he smiled amiably down at Flinx. “Where did you say you were from, Philip?”

“Moth,” Flinx replied honestly.

The other man frowned. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it. Is it near Eurmet?”

Flinx shook his head. “It’s a class five outpost world. Still pretty raw. Circled by gravitationally interrupted rings.”

“Oh, now I remember,” Ormann said brightly. “The winged planet. I’ve seen pictures. Raw’s the word, I guess. Origins considered, you seem to have turned out well enough.”

Flinx smiled back. Across the room, Pip lifted from the table. Drawn by the deep humming noise of her wings, everyone turned to look. Slitted eyes were intent on the company vice president.

“I note the relationship,” Ormann commented genially, unaware that he was in imminent danger of being slaughtered. “Perhaps we’ll have the chance to talk again, Philip. At more length. But I have work to do, and you two have some ancient history to share.” He departed with a last warm smile for Clarity. “See you later, darling.”

As he exited he shot a surreptitious glance backward. Her expression as she resumed talking to Lynx was inscrutable. Just a voice from her past, he told himself. Nothing more. As she’d said, an old business acquaintance. Younger than her, too. Also taller, and much too good-looking for Ormann’s peace of mind.

He turned up the hallway, heading for his office. Only a field-worker. Surely there could have been nothing between them beyond the kind of professional friendship that inevitably developed between any two people who worked closely together on a distant, undeveloped, uncivilized world. He’d watched with contentment as Clarity had dismissed or dealt with one hopeful office suitor after another before settling on him. She was too clever for them, or her standards were too high.

Not too clever for Bill Ormann, though. He took a certain amount of pardonable pride in their relationship. Though he’d been with his share of women, he’d never met anyone like Clarity Held. Add her compassion and independence into the mix and you had something unique. Someone he fully expected to make, within the year, the third Mrs. William Ormann. His superiors approved, too. And with each passing week, with each pleasant Nurian month, Clarity seemed that much more willing. They got along well together, enjoyed many of the same things.

So an old acquaintance had unexpectedly put in an appearance. From what little he had been able to see, that was all they had in common. Some small, insignificant bit of mutual history. That, and pet Alaspinian minidrags. Hardly a basis for alarm. He lengthened his stride. He hadn’t lied to facilitate a graceful exit. He
did
have work to do.

Let Clarity spend the afternoon with this Philip Lynx. Let her spend a day or two with him. What was the harm? His affable compliance, indeed encouragement, Ormann knew, could only enhance his stature in her eyes.

Yes, he thought as he entered the lift that would take him to the upper floors where the company executives had their nests, he had handled it very well indeed.

CHAPTER

6

Though they talked all that afternoon and on through dinner, Flinx deliberately kept the conversation casual. Whenever she tried to probe, he diverted the exchange to her history. She was happy enough to chat about herself, though whenever the subject turned to Bill Ormann she was less forthcoming. That suited Flinx fine. He really did not want to talk about Ormann.

The following morning he met her outside her residential complex. At her insistence, he had dressed for light hiking. She was looking forward, she had explained the previous night, to showing him a little of why the inhabitants of New Riviera were envied by their fellow citizens throughout the Commonwealth.

They took public transportation to a central downtown terminal where they boarded a local transport. In half an hour they were speeding silently down a propulsion rail that wound deep into gentle, rolling hills. Other passengers, young couples from the city, spared the tall redhead and his companion nary a glance. In contrast, the two flying snakes inspired frequent comments and wide-eyed glances from children traveling with their parents. One young girl went so far as to shyly ask permission to pet Scrap. Detecting no threat, the minidrag dozed indifferently on Clarity’s shoulder as the fascinated child drew her fingers cautiously down the flying snake’s spine, pausing once or twice to feel the pleated wings folded tightly against the scaly body. Raising one eyelid halfway, Pip scrutinized the activity and, sensing nothing inimical, promptly dropped back to sleep.

In twos and family groups, people left the liftcar until only two couples were left. When the transport next slowed Clarity rose, hefted one of the two hiking packs she had brought along, handed the other to Flinx, and headed for the exit.

“End of the line,” she announced. “From here we walk.”

He followed her outside. The last time he had gone for a hike with a backpack it had been on a world called Pyrassis. His surroundings today were a little more accommodating.

Instead of hostile alien desert he found himself walking through a forest of exotic, colorful blossoms. Instead of sprouting from bushes, the profusion of lavender and cerise, pink and turquoise, white and metallic gold blooms sprouted from the branches of pale-boled trees that twisted their way skyward like spiral bouquets. Whereas on Earth and other worlds he had visited, plants spent much of their time and energy fighting for every scrap of sunlight and ground space, here the trees seemed in competition to see which one could put forth the most spectacular blossoms. Overhead, Pip and Scrap circled and hummed gleefully as they played among the branches.

He had never seen so many flowers in one place. The air was saturated with perfume and his mind grew dizzy trying to assign names to all the colors he saw. The climbing, corkscrewing trunks of one grove of takari they hiked past climbed more than thirty meters into the sky. From the lowermost branch to the topmost sprig, every helical limb and twig was heavy with blooms. It was a flourish of natural beauty beyond anything he had previously encountered. When he remarked on it to Clarity, she only laughed.

“Nur is full of valleys like this one. As many as possible have been left in a wild or semiwild state for the public to enjoy.” She paused to point out a miniature carpet of deep blue stem-flowers that hummed whenever they were vibrated by a passing breeze. They were as perfect and delicate as the takari were tall and robust. “This,” she informed him, “is why nobody on New Riviera gives flowers to mark an occasion. There’s nothing special about them, and anyone who wants some can step outside and pick what they like, even in the middle of a city like Soothal or Nelaxis.”

“You flatter them more than they you,” he commented.

Her expression turned mischievous. “Now, what book did you pull that out of?” She was not displeased, he believed. That was one thing he had observed about women in the course of his journeys. Where their personal appearance was concerned, there wasn’t one who did not prefer to hear a clever artifice as opposed to an unbecoming truth. In this, Clarity was no different.

“It’s true,” he insisted.

“Bill wouldn’t like to hear you say so.”

If she was trying to draw him into a reaction by mentioning her paramour, she failed. At least, his expression did not change. He kept his attention focused on the magical landscape, asking the name of this tree and that bush, wanting to know the taxonomy of the variety of small furry things that darted and hopped out of their way whenever they approached. From time to time the pair of flying snakes would dart down to ensure that their respective masters were doing well before resuming their antics in the treetops.

“Where are we going?” He looked over at her. “Do you have some destination in mind or are we just rambling?”