Mid-Flinx (12 page)

Shells and energy beams ripped into the predator, which responded with a horrible screeching that assaulted their unprepared ears. A couple of bursts tore its two left wings to shreds. Beating furiously at the air and surrounding vegetation with the other pair, it toppled over on its side, the unfortunate Damas still impaled on the hooked bill.

Approaching wordlessly, the Mu’Atahl centered an explosive shell on the powerful skull, which exploded in a shower of blood and bone. The wings twitched a couple of times before folding like the sides of a collapsing tent. Blood, pieces of flesh, and shredded feathers flew everywhere, coating the survivors as well as the surrounding brush.

Damas lay crumpled, eyes open and staring. He’d never seen the creature that had hit him. Blood trickled from his mouth as well as his chest.

While his human companions gathered around him, mumbling to themselves and staring, Chaa backed beneath a shielding branch and kept his attention on the open patch of sky. After a moment he announced, “There are others up there. Perhaps different, perhaps simihlar. Some are larger. Much larger. I suggest we descend to a poihnt where we wihll be less exposed.”

“Poor bastard never had a chance.” Rundle’s gaze turned nervously skyward.

“He’s dead.” Aimee stared at the body, pinioned in its alien embrace.

“Damn right he’s dead. Voicing the obvious won’t change it. Everybody do like Chaa says. Let’s move down.” Coerlis turned away from the impaled corpse.

“This way.” The Mu’Atahl lowered himself to a branch that held even as it bent alarmingly under his weight. Once assured of its stability, he reached up with two of his four hands to assist Coerlis. The others made their way down on their own.

“Better,” Coerlis declared as the patch of sky receded overhead. “We’ll be perfectly safe as soon as the forest closes in around us.”

Chapter Nine

Pip darting effortlessly along in front of him, Flinx picked his footing through the undergrowth of deranged epiphytes and syrupy bromeliads, clinging mosses, and psychotic fungi. One minute he was walking through a botanist’s heaven, the next through an equivalent hell. It was all baffling, mind-numbing, and beautiful.

He was preceded by the big furcot, Saalahan, while the two cubs flanked the group as it advanced. They stayed out of sight on either side, making sure no predator had the chance to prepare an ambush. Flinx noted their distance from one another and worried.

“Will the young ones be all right out by themselves?” He ducked to pass under a branch that Teal cleared without having to stoop.

“The furcots? They’ll be fine. If anything threatens they’ll give warning, or deal with it themselves.”

“But they’re so much smaller than Saalahan.” A sapphire leaf brushed his face and his nostrils were filled with the contrasting scents of honey and turpentine.

“Heard that!” called the always argumentative Moomadeem from off to the left. Flinx saw the dim green shape take a swipe at something. Faint thrashing sounds followed, but the young furcot had already moved on.

Pip dipped down to smell a purple and black flower with four thick, diametrically opposed leaves. She was almost too slow. The four leaves smacked together like a pair of clapping hands, just missing her head. With a contemptuous hiss she buzzed the plant repeatedly, each time just avoiding the grasping greenery. Its capture and destroy mode exhausted, it finally relaxed and allowed her to inhale the deep-seated fragrance.

There weren’t many life forms on Alaspin faster than a minidrag. Fortunately, the same seemed to apply on this world as well. So far, Flinx reminded himself.

“I’m sorry about your mate,” he murmured sympathetically. Though Teal kept her pace deliberately slow, the lanky Flinx had difficulty keeping up. Creepers and moss seemed to hang directly in his path, thorns intentionally clutched at his clothes, and smaller branches and aerial roots appeared magically beneath his feet and between his legs, trying to trip him. Tiny creatures wondrous of shape and bright of hue darted, crawled, slithered, or flew out of his path. Dwell charted the strange skyperson’s progress with a mixture of amusement and contempt.

“Yes, it’s too bad.” Teal glanced back at him. Intermittent light tumbling through the irregular scrim of the forest flashed from the bright green cabochons of her eyes. “Jerah was a good man.”

Flinx wrestled his way past a stubborn creeper. “Were you very much in love?”

“In love?” She blinked. “Not really. There are couples who have love. I know; I’ve seen it.”

“Don’t you wish it for yourself?” Looking down, he saw the barbed abdomen of a dull orange segmented crawler sticking out of his left boot. He moved to crush it underfoot and watched with interest as the segments promptly scattered for cover, leaving only the barbed stinger behind. Gently he scraped it out of the tough fabric with the heel of his other boot.

“Not especially.” She considered. “This love seems nice, but dangerous. I would rather have by my side a strong, intelligent mate who knows how to survive than one who gawks stupidly at me and forgets where he is. A companion who is soon food for a bildergrass or a carnopter is no good at all. What matters love when your mate is meat?”

“I’ve never really looked at it that way.” He was a bit taken aback by her cool, analytic response.

They walked on, pausing occasionally to check Flinx’s positioner to ensure they were still on course. “What about you?” she asked him. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Several times. Always with a woman older than myself. The last time—the last time it was hard to leave. I had to force myself to do it.”

She eyed him curiously. “Then why did you?”

“Because I’m not ready to mate.” He could hardly tell her the truth. Not that she would understand anyway.

“You look ready enough to me.”

He had the grace to blush. Life on this world was very direct, social niceties having been sacrificed on the altar of continued survival.

“The reason I’m not ready to mate isn’t visible.” He tapped the side of his head.

She frowned but didn’t inquire further, though he could tell from her confused emotional state that she wasn’t ready to let the matter drop.

“Mate or not, I think you would make a good survivor.”

“Thanks. That’s how I like to think of myself. But love?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’d like to understand myself better, first.”

“To understand oneself you must first better understand the world.”

He looked at her sharply but there was no guile in her expression, no subtlety in her tone. Her emotional state was not that of one trying to hide some unknown secret. He continued to puzzle over her words even as she turned away from him to check the way ahead.

The branch they were currently traversing quivered under Saalahan’s great weight, but it led in the direction they were headed. To allay his concerns, Teal assured him they would soon be able to switch to a thicker, sturdier pathway. No straight line led to their destination. Traveling a path through the hylaea was more akin to tacking a sailboat into the wind, only in their case an extra dimension was involved.

“Stormtreader.” For his benefit she identified a massive tree off to their right. Leaves grew directly upon the trunk. What few branches there were appeared stunted and vestigial. All that he could see of the remarkable trunk was clad in an exceptional, silvery bark.

“Draws the thunderbolts,” she explained. “A bad place to seek shelter in a storm.”

“I’ll remember.” Had he known of the trees’ role in utilizing lightning to fix nitrogen in the planet’s soil, he would have been even more impressed.

Dwell and Kiss strayed freely from the main branch, cavorting among flowers and vines, instinctively avoiding those that were potentially dangerous while prodding and poking playfully at those that were not.

“You have a lot of confidence in your children.”

“They are old enough to know the ways.” Teal leaped to another branch and waited for Flinx to follow in his usual, tentative fashion. “If they are unfamiliar with something, they will ask about it. And a furcot is always at hand.”

“Is that what furcots do? Watch over humans?”

“And each other as well, just as we look out for them. It is a partnership.”

“Is there love between human and furcot?”

She reflected. “No. It’s deeper than that, almost as if your furcot is a part of you and you are a part of it.” A grunt sounded from up ahead and she turned sharply. “Saalahan wants us to come quickly.” Without waiting to see if Flinx was following, she broke into a sprint.

Trying to pick his way yet still keep up, he followed as best he was able. Teal and her children seemed to know just where to put their feet, exactly when to shorten their stride or gather themselves for a jump. He was getting better, but he knew that even if he practiced for years he could do no better than match Kiss in agility.

Though he considered himself to be in good physical condition, he was still breathing hard when he finally caught up with them.

Lying in the crook of two large, pale blue branches was an adult furcot. It was clearly in an advanced state of degradation. Instead of a bright, healthy green, its fur had taken on a distinctly yellowish tinge. The chest bellowed in and out in long, painful contractions. Slumped on its side, it looked like a beached hippo. Already starting to fester, gaping wounds were visible between both sets of legs.

At their approach it tried to lift its eyes to greet them. Failing, the head sank back, exhausted.

Not knowing how he should react, Flinx studied his companions for clues. All were solemn and quiet, including the children. It was the first time he’d seen Dwell so subdued.

Saalahan nuzzled the fallen creature while Teal bent to stroke the blocky skull, rubbing gently between the ears. A muted grinding noise emerged from deep within the massive chest: a labored, falling sound. The three eyes remained half shut.

“Ciinravan,” she informed Flinx, responding to his unvoiced question. “Jerah’s furcot.”

“I thought you said that when a person died, their furcot died with them.”

“Soon enough,” Saalahan growled softly. The ugly wounds confirmed the big furcot’s words.

“Ciinravan tried to help Jerah but was too late.” Teal continued to stroke the shivering brow. “This degeneration began soon after his death.”

“Can’t we make some kind of a stretcher?” Flinx studied the enormous mass. “With all three furcots pulling and the rest of us helping, maybe we could carry Ciinravan back to your home.” He fumbled with his supply belt. “I have some medicines. I don’t know how well they’ll work, or even if any of them will work at all, but I’m willing to try.”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t do anything. Ciinravan will be dead by this afternoon.”

“No matter what I do?”

She nodded slowly. “No matter what. Jerah is dead, so Ciinravan will die.”

Flinx could see the life ebbing from the once powerful form. “Seems like an awful waste.”

“It is the way of things.” She was thoroughly resigned. “The forest gives life to us all, and to the forest each is destined to return. It is nothing to be sorrowful for. Ciinravan has no regrets.”

“Tell me something. If Ciinravan had died instead of your husband, would Jerah have faded away like this?”

“Of course,” she told him.

Something’s going on here, he thought to himself. Something much deeper than friendship between human and beast. These relationships had more to do with true symbiosis than casual companionship.

But how had it all begun? Teal and her children were of traditional human stock. Their ancestors had come here from some other Commonwealth world. How had they become so tightly bound to this particular native species? Just how intelligent were the furcots, anyway? And what had prompted them to form such a close association with humans? The thousands of years of interaction that had gone into creating the relationship between human and dog, human and horse, didn’t exist here. Everything had happened quickly.

Much too quickly, he thought, but he couldn’t be sure. He was no behavioral biologist.

He studied the dying furcot. “I don’t understand. Why couldn’t Ciinravan attach himself to another person?”

“All persons already have furcots,” Teal told him.

Flinx persisted. “I know that. Can’t a person have two furcots?”

She blinked. “What a strange notion. Why would a person want to be with two furcots? And why would two furcots want to share a person?”

“I still don’t get it. Where do the furcots
come
from?’ Moomadeem was sniffing his leg, and he did his best to ignore the young animal. “Do you raise them? Is there a furcot herd living near your home that you select new young animals from whenever a child is born?”

She laughed at him. “When a person is born, their furcot comes to them. When a person dies, their furcot dies. This is the natural way of things.”

The unnatural way of things, he thought.

Saalahan spoke before Flinx could ask another question. “It will not be long.”

“Do not weep,” Teal told her new friend. “Ciinravan is happy. Soon it will be with Jerah again.”

The big furcot was in obvious pain. Flinx thought of the needler holstered at his hip. “Can’t we make it any easier for him? Put an end to the misery?”

She frowned. “There is no misery in dying. It is part of the natural order. Death begets life. This is nothing to sorrow about.”

“But if the animal is hurting—”

“Ciinravan shows more than he feels,” Teal assured him. “It is not so bad as it appears.”

“I was just thinking that—” Suddenly he paused and put a hand to the side of his head, turning sharply. His eyes scanned the impenetrable green walls. Alarmed, Pip took to the air, leaving her master’s shoulder to search for the perceived danger.

“What is it?” Teal looked uncertain.

Rising on her hind legs, Tuuvatem sniffed the damp air before concluding with a soft snort. “There’s nothing. The skyperson hears a flitter, and jumps.” She dropped back to all sixes.

Teal glanced at him. “Flinx?”

“I thought—I thought I felt the presence of other persons.” He looked down at her. “Would your people send out search parties to look for you?”

She shook her head. “They have more practical things to do with their time.”

“Another family of sugararry gatherers?” Again she shook her head.

Moomadeem nudged him roughly with a shoulder. “Maybe you were sensing me?”

“No. These were human feelings.”

“Not impossible,” the furcot admitted, much to Flinx’s surprise. He was convinced that the young creature was eager to dispute anything he said.

“I can’t be sure of anything on this world,” he muttered, as much to himself as to Teal. “I suppose the first thing is to get you all safely home.”

“No,” she replied. “First we must bury Ciinravan.”

“Bury?” He eyed the rapidly failing animal. “It’s a long ways to the ground.”

“Why would anyone, person or furcot, want to be buried in the Lower Hell?” she asked him. “There are proper places. We can move the body. Saalahan will help. Even you can help.”

“Of course,” he told her, without comprehending. He let his gaze rove the hylaea, wondering where and how they intended to dig a hole large enough to accommodate the furcot’s bulk.

Saalahan jumped easily to the next branch and vanished into the verdure. “Once a place has been found, we will move Ciinravan,” she told Flinx. “Meanwhile we will attend the last moments. And we must also find shelter for the night.”

Flinx glanced skyward. The torpid cloud cover was already beginning to darken.