Mid-Flinx (6 page)

“I’ll take any universal credit chit.” Flinx made conversation while the
Teacher
made ready. “We can run it through a neutral ground-based system.”

“Sure.” Despite the obvious exertion, Coerlis was unable to be truly cheerful.

“Shuttle will depart in five minutes.”

“Three.” Coerlis smiled relentlessly.

“All right: three.” Flinx terminated transmission and turned toward the omnidirectional voice recognition pickup. “
Teacher
, I want drive activation in three minutes.”

“Difficult.” Lights flickered on the layout before Flinx. Pip stirred slightly but remained on her perch, wings furled against her blue, pink, and green body.

“It may also be necessary to engage in evasive action,” Flinx added. “We have been threatened by the KK-drive vessel nearest to us.”

“The situation is understood, sir.” Flinx’s chair quivered beneath him.

Coerlis’s voice grated over the wide-open corn, restive and suspicious. “You’re moving. What’s going on?”

“Adjusting attitude. My shuttle’s low on fuel and you’re a fair ways off. Check your own readouts. I’m moving toward you, not away.”

A pause, then, “So you are. Take it easy.”

“Relax. I’m entirely on automatics. Do I look old enough to you to handle manual piloting?”

“All right, but no tricks.”

“What tricks?” Flinx replied. “The closer I come, the simpler it is for your weapons systems to target me.”

“Just don’t forget that,” Coerlis replied testily. He subsided a little when Flinx reestablished visual contact. “Not that I feel bad about this, but I see no reason for you to leave with just money. Would you like a puppy?”

“That’s all right. I’ve been to Alaspin. I can get another minidrag.”

Coerlis eyed him curiously. “Then why give me such a hard time over this one? Just because it’s been with you for a while? It’s only an alien analog.”

“Sixty seconds,” announced the
Teacher
, too softly for the pickup to transfer the information to Coerlis’s craft.

“Emotional attachments can be hard to break.”

“They can also be damaging if you let them get to you,” Coerlis replied. “Look, no hard feelings. You’re a pretty resourceful kid. Why don’t you come work for me?”

“Because I haven’t been a kid for quite some time, and because I don’t think I’d like working for you. In fact, I doubt anyone does. But you’ll never know that. Pumped credit buys a lot of fawning, and humankind’s never suffered from a shortage of sycophants.”

“Drive activation imminent,” murmured the voice of the
Teacher
.

Someone offscreen shouted urgently and Coerlis turned in their direction. A moment later he was glaring icily back at Flinx. “I told you no tricks. I get what I want, and if I can’t get what I want . . .” He turned away to shout an order.

At that instant the
Teacher
twitched and the view outside all three ports spun wildly. Communication with Coerlis was lost as Flinx’s vessel accelerated sharply, to pass directly above and dangerously near to the other vessel. Though very mild, the initial gravity wave generated by the
Teacher’s
drive perturbed the orbit of Coerlis’s craft enough to make precision weapons targeting impossible.

Flinx allowed himself a slight smile as he envisioned his frustrated nemesis screaming and yelling at his subordinates. Meanwhile the
Teacher
continued to accelerate exponentially.

“Any indication of hostile reaction?”

“One object-seeking weapon launched,” replied the vorec promptly.

“Potential?”

“Far below SCCAM velocity, sir.”

“I know that. If it was a SCCAM projectile we’d already be dead.” The computer did not object to its inclusion in Flinx’s evaluation.

“Improperly aimed, sir. It is not a threat.” A brief pause, then, “The vessel which undertook the reaction has activated its own drive and is attempting to pursue.”

“Are they closing on us?”

“No, sir. Maintaining projected interval and velocity.”

“Good enough.” As long as Coerlis remained out of weapons range there was no harm in both ships accelerating in tandem. Projectiles were no longer a concern. Everything depended now on the sophistication of Coerlis’s single energy weapon. It could prove difficult to evade. KK-drive ships weren’t designed for sharp, quick maneuvering.

A military craft would already be solidifying its targeting procedures. Coerlis’s people should take somewhat longer. Meanwhile the
Teacher
headed outsystem, where the full power of its drive could be safely engaged.

“Heavy particle burst detected, sir,” announced the
Teacher
gravely. “Capable of causing significant damage if we are hit. Shall I respond actively?”

“No. Evade and avoid. See that we’re not impacted. How long before we reach changeover?”

“Crossing the orbit of the sixth and outermost planet, sir. Two minutes thirty seconds.” There was a pause, almost an electronic hesitation, then, “Allow me to point out that it would be useful to select a course prior to insertion, sir.”

“I don’t give a damn.” Watching Pip, Flinx was reminded of his childhood on Moth: free-roaming, without responsibility, dangerous but exciting, and largely devoid of headaches. He missed that freedom, missed the easy laughter and camaraderie of fellow street children. He’d grown up too fast and learned too damn much. It was somebody’s fault, and he knew who they were.

But there was no use blaming them anymore, because they were all dead.

“We are being hailed, sir.”

“Ignore all, transmissions.” He was sick of Jack-Jax Coerlis’s pinched, pasty, psychotic face and hoped never to have to look upon it again.

How much longer would he have to put up with the cavalier madness of individual antagonists? How much longer would he have to restrain himself? He felt a headache coming on, a throbbing at the back of his skull. Even here, in the sanctuary of emptiness, he wasn’t always immune.

“Forty seconds. Course, sir. Please.”

“I told you; it doesn’t matter. Anyplace—anywhere on our current vector. The next habitable world. I don’t care. Just go.”

“Very well, sir. Changeover is imminent.”

A different sort of shudder ran through the ship. He fancied he could hear Coerlis’s howl of outrage as the
Teacher
leaped off his screens. The starfield outside the ports dopplered and his stomach did an amiable flip-flop. In the time it would take Coerlis’s vessel to achieve equal velocity, the
Teacher
would be long gone in the unnatural immensity of space-plus.

And that would be the end of that.

As for what lay ahead, it didn’t matter. Flinx never gave much thought to tomorrows. He was by nature reactive rather than protagonistic. For the present he was content to let the cosmos bounce him where it would.

Chapter Five

Flinx didn’t bother to count the days. He was content simply to be going. It wasn’t necessary to ponder where he’d been or where he was heading. In space-plus, cocooned in the responsive and caring confines of the
Teacher
, he was free from the emotional roar and babble of thousands of sapient beings. Here there were no headaches, no need to wonder at the true motivation of supposed friends or old acquaintances. The
Teacher
’s AI existed to serve, and serve emotionlessly. There was only one problem.

He was not, at heart, a hermit.

He loved the feel of solid ground underfoot, the flash and static of new worlds, the company and conversation of intelligent life. The paradox had always existed within him: solitary of mind but gregarious of nature.

If only he could blind himself to their emotions, shut out their feelings, ignore their petty internalized tantrums and upsets, he would be as comfortable in a crowd as in the familiar chambers of the
Teacher
. But he could not. They raged and tore at him, demanding his notice, pricking his talent and worming their distraught selves into his mind. He almost smiled. Maybe that was the cause of his headaches.

Overcrowding.

He elevated himself with philosophy, diverted himself with music, expanded his perceptiveness with art, and made yet another stab at the physics of his private revelations, until one day the ship announced brightly, “Preparing for changeover, sir. Reinsertion into normal space imminent.”

“Only entropy is imminent,
Teacher
. Didn’t you know that?”

“You’ve been reading Sheckley again, sir. Insightful, but lacking in depth.”

“Truths are no less real for being transitory.”

“I cannot debate with you now, sir. There are adjustments to be made. Unless you wish us to be turned inside out upon changeover.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”

“I remind you that I am programmed to recognize facetiousness, sir.”

Flinx closed down the library, made certain the painting he’d been working on was properly stabilized, dismissed the entertainment block, added a few bars to his ongoing symphonic mass, and prepared to rejoin the real universe. Lazing on her perch, Pip followed him with piercing, slitted eyes.

“Where are we, anyway?” Flinx settled himself into the pilot’s chair, from which he’d never done nor hoped ever to have to do any piloting.

“The world is not named, sir.”

The last vestiges of
a capella
polyphonics faded from his mind. “What do you mean, it’s not named?”

“You asked that we travel to the next habitable world on our original vector, sir. No other specifications were provided and no limitations set.”

“We’ve been a long time in space-plus.” He checked one of numerous readouts. “A very long time. What are you telling me?”

“It’s an odd entry in the files, sir. There’s virtually nothing in the way of description beyond the fact that it is Earthlike and habitable. It’s more of a statistic than a realized place.”

“You’re telling me that it’s habitable but uninhabited.”

“Insofar as I am able to determine from the very limited information available to me, sir. It’s little more than a listing. Unclassified.”

Flinx frowned. “That’s odd. Why not label it a class ten and leave it at that? If enough is known about it to list it as habitable, enough must be known for a formal classification to apply.”

“I do not dispute your logic, sir. I am only reporting what information is in my files.”

“Is it a new entry?”

“No, sir. It appears to be quite old.”

“Curiouser and curiouser. Something someone wants kept secret?”

“Not so much secret as perhaps overlooked, sir. You know that I have access to files which are unavailable generally.”

“If you say so.” Flinx considered the refulgent orb they were decelerating toward. “I would’ve preferred Tehuantepec.” That well-developed world, with its partially above- and partially belowground society, would have been a fine and active place in which to submerge himself.

Maybe this was better. Something completely new. Flinx had always liked surprises because his talent made genuine ones difficult.

“Any sign of communications, at any level of proficiency?”

“A moment, sir. I am scanning. No sir, nothing. Only the expected local and background stellar output.”

Flinx studied those readouts whose function he could comprehend. The world expanding before him massed slightly less than Terra and orbited a little nearer its star. It hugged close a dense but breathable atmosphere. Additional details would become available subsequent to more intimate observation.

“Let’s take a closer look.”

“Very well, sir. How close? We are alone here.”

The ship was being careful, as it was programmed to be. It wouldn’t do to have some lone Commonwealth survey drone note the fact that a KK-drive ship could descend to within touchdown distance of a planetary surface without generating the usual cataclysmic side effects both to ship and surface. Alone among known vessels, only the
Teacher
could manage that trick, and Flinx guarded its secret zealously.

“I know we’re alone, but let’s hew to minimum Commonwealth orbital standards anyway. At least until we’re doubly sure nobody’s watching. Then we’ll see.”

“As you wish, sir.”

They dropped to the specified altitude and commenced a steady circumnavigation of the planet, moving from west to east and occasionally shifting to a circumpolar orbit. It didn’t much matter. Except for an occasional outbreak of blue ocean, the surface was practically uniform.

There was also a vague feeling of having been here before, stronger than déjà vu but far less than certitude. He had to grin. If the
Teacher
was correct,
no one
had ever been here before, except the robot drone that had long ago noted its coordinates.

“Visuals confirm preliminary observations,” he murmured aloud. “It looks as well as tests habitable. Wonder why no one’s come here?”

“I don’t know, sir. There are many discrepancies in the old files. Record-keeping was much less efficient hundreds of years ago.”

Flinx heard a deep hum and felt a weight on his shoulder. Pip had fluttered over to join him. It was unusual for her to be so active so soon after changeover, but he didn’t have time to wonder about her behavior. He was too busy staring out the port as they slowly circled the cloud-swathed planet.

There was at least one sizable ocean. There might have been others but it was difficult to tell, since even the surface of the water was heavily masked in green. What pelagic growth there was, was thick and cloying.

The few eroded mountain ranges were completely smothered in greenery, as were the occasional isolated canyons and depressions. Except for disparate shades of that dominant hue, there were only varying densities of white cloud and the isolated patch of blue, struggling to be seen. The
Teacher
soared high above greens so pale as to be translucent, shading to green dark enough to verge on black. Within the tightly constricted palette there was immense variation.

Instruments searched for an open space in which to set down: the crumbling gray of a high mountain plateau, the baneful yellow of open desert, even the pallid glare of a glacier or ice cap. In vain. Save for the already noted patches of open ocean maintained by a few strong currents, this world was an unrelenting, unremitting green from its equator to its poles.

“I don’t think there’s much question about the presence of indigenous life,” Flinx commented. “Not of the botanical variety, anyway. That’s certainly noteworthy enough to be included in any records. But you say there’s nothing.”

“No sir. Only the coordinates and the simple basics already alluded to.” After a period of silence in which man and machine silently contemplated the world below, the ship ventured, “Would you like me to construct a vector to Tehauntepec, sir?”

Flinx considered. There was no one to talk to here, no convivial strangers with whom to share conversation or debate. After so much time spent in the isolation of space-plus, he was in need of conversation. It was a function of his age as much as his personality. Much easier to observe in isolation when one has turned eighty or ninety and has a store of old conversations to draw upon.

The voice of the
Teacher
interrupted before he could make a decision. “Sir, instruments have detected a metallic anomaly within the surface.”

“Within?” Flinx’s eyebrows rose.

“Yes sir. The surface we are viewing is neither uniform nor solid.”

“Where is this anomaly located?”

“Behind us now, given our velocity.”

Could be an old meteorite lying within the vegetation, Flinx mused, or an outcropping of a concentrated ore deposit. Or . . .?

“Find it again and position us overhead.”

“Yes sir.” The ship adjusted orbit to comply. Not much later, “We are directly above it now and holding, sir.”

Flinx examined the surface via the view offered up by the
Teacher
’s scopes, eyeing the relevant monitors with interest. All that could be seen was the all-pervasive green, albeit at a higher magnification.

“I am unable to further resolve the anomaly,” the ship informed him. “It is relatively small.”

Still a meteorite or ore outcropping, Flinx decided. “There’s nothing about it to suggest that anyone else is here?”

“No, sir. The communications spectrum for this entire system is completely blank.”

He considered. “Then take us down.”

The ship complied, descending slowly to an altitude that would have stunned any observer conversant with the physics of KK-drive technology. Only when they had fallen far enough for Flinx to make out individual treetops did he direct the
Teacher
to pause and hover.

“It’s all like this?” he asked rhetorically.

The ship replied anyway. “All that I have been able to survey so far, sir. Of course, we have only made a dozen or so passes.”

“What are our landing prospects in this vicinity?”

“The local vegetation rises to heights in excess of seven hundred meters, sir. There is some question as to the stability of the actual surface, even if it could be reached.”

“So there’s nothing?”

“I have noted the presence of a very few relatively growth-free mountain peaks which rise above the surrounding greenery. These exposed barrens may owe their existence to altitude, the absence of suitable soils, or a combination of factors. There are none next to the anomaly, but one is relatively close.”

“Define ‘relatively’ in this instance.”

“I believe that would be misleading, sir, given the energetic nature of the surface. Linear and chronological distance are not likely to correspond in any meaningful fashion.”

“Is there room enough to land?”

“The space is inadequate and the topography unsuitable,” the ship replied discouragingly. “There are one or two places where a properly piloted shuttle might safely achieve touchdown.”

“Good enough. Take us back to a normal orbit.”

“Yes sir.” A tremor ran through the ship as it balanced on its unique drive and began to ascend. “Further observation reveals that the exposed area is composed of especially tough granites, very difficult for organics to break down. This could account for the absence of the otherwise omnipresent vegetation.”

“What an amazing place.” Flinx continued to gaze out the port as they returned to orbit. “I wonder what kind of animals, if any, live here? Surely in all this world-spanning forest there has to be a variety of mobile life forms.”

“In the absence of high-resolution observations, it would be premature of me to speculate, sir.”

Time to reprogram the
Teacher
’s voice, Flinx decided as he rose and headed for the shuttle bay.

“We’ll go down and have a look around,” he told his companion. Pip eyed him uncomprehendingly. “A world capable of supporting this kind of life deserves to be reported. Settlements would do well here.”

“Your appraisal is similarly premature, sir. If you would like my opinion—”

“I always want your opinion, ship.” Flinx turned down a corridor.

“The biotic density far exceeds that of any previously recorded rain forest. Even the thranx, who are partial to such conditions, might have difficulty establishing themselves here. The growth may not be manageable, and I remind you that we know nothing of the actual surface, which must be shrouded in perpetual darkness.”

“I didn’t say potential colonizers wouldn’t have problems. They could start by clearing a wide section of forest.”

He halted sharply and had to place one hand against a wall for support. An alarmed Pip raised both wings and immediately began hunting for an unseen enemy.

“Sir?” The voice of the ship was concerned.

“Whew!” Flinx put the hand to his head. “Just had something shoot through me like you wouldn’t believe. Not like one of my usual headaches. I guess I’m going to have to adapt to a new round of pain.” He straightened. “It’d be worse on Samstead. Or Terra.” Cautiously he resumed walking.

On board the shuttle he addressed the vorec which was permanently linked to the
Teacher
’s neutral nexus. “You’re sure there’s a place to set down? I don’t want to burn any vegetation if I don’t have to.”

“There should be adequate room, sir, though there is little margin for error.”

“I’m not worried.” He slipped into harness. “You don’t make errors.”

“No, sir.”

The shuttle detached cleanly from its bay, pivoted in nothingness, and engaged a preprogrammed angle of descent, aiming for an infinitesimal spot of gray/brown that just barely protruded above the sea of green. As he dropped, Flinx marveled through the port at the virescent surface. Colossal emergents with overarching crowns a hundred meters across dominated the chlorotic topography, while smaller yet still gigantic growths fought for a share of life-giving sunlight. Utilization of every shaft of sunshine, every stray photon, was contested. On this world photosynthesis had gone wild, and chlorophyll was the addiction of choice.