Running from the Deity (5 page)

Then something stepped out from among the plant-laced dunes to confront him directly.

The size of a small bear, it had a low-slung jaw that made up fully a third of its length. Four squat, stumpy legs separated at the midjoint into pairs that terminated in a total of eight blocky feet. Hairless, earless, and colored a splotchy blue-black, it sported a smooth pair of fleshy appendages that protruded from the top of its head. Though the teeth in the extraordinary mouth were flat and designed for masticating vegetation, the two short horns that tipped both the upper and lower jaw looked sharp enough to do real damage.

As startled by the sight of the taller but lighter human as Flinx was by the sudden appearance of the bulky herbivore, the creature’s large eyes contracted in their bony sockets. Uttering a cross between a snort and a whistle, it started toward him: slowly at first, but rapidly gathering momentum.

Flinx knew it was startled because he could sense that particular emotion emanating from the oncoming animal. Could sense it without even having to try. It was among the clearest emotional projections he had ever received at any time in all his many travels. He did not have to extend his perception at all, as he often did at such moments of stress. Proper perceiving was even more difficult when the subject was nonsentient. But this charging creature was laying its emotions out in his mind as clearly as if they had been printed to hard copy and handed to him for his leisurely perusal.

Above, Pip sensed her master’s sudden stress, folded her wings, and dove. Her intervention was not necessary. Exerting only a minimal effort, and without even trying to focus his attention, Flinx simply thought at the beast that he meant it no harm. Normally, he would have had to concentrate forcefully and hope that the creature possessed sufficient neurological complexity to be affected by the projection. If not, Flinx was fully prepared to dive aside and pull his handgun while his flying snake engaged and diverted the onrushing animal.

It stopped dead in its tracks, its dark blue pupils squeezing together even more tightly than they had thus far. The two appendages that protruded from its head were pointed straight at Flinx, and quivering. Simultaneously relieved and bemused, the tall young human stared back. He had only concentrated once on the suggestion, and that almost indifferently, that the advancing creature should halt its charge. Yet it had done so with such alacrity that it was almost as if it had received and reacted to a recognizable spoken command. What was going on here?

Flinx allowed himself to feel at ease, relaxed, nonthreatening. The jaw-bear’s cranial appendages relaxed. Letting out a soft snort, it turned and ambled off into the brush, not even looking back to see if the strange, angular being that had surprised it in the midst of dense vegetation was making an effort to follow.

That was odd, Flinx reflected. Usually, his singular ability allowed him to empathize only erratically with nonsentients. He was better at it now than he had been years ago, but it was a talent that was still far from perfected. Yet convincing this startled alien plant-eater that he represented no threat to it had required hardly any effort at all.

He shrugged it off as a fortuitous coincidence. That rationalization lasted until he encountered a small herd of long-eared, long-tailed browsers.

There might be trees elsewhere on this world, but at least on the sandy peninsula where he had landed, the tallest vegetation was comprised of numerous variants of single-bladed pseudo-grasses. Some species were striped, some blotched, while others flaunted extraordinary and sometimes bizarre variations in color. And size. A few individual blades soared to heights high overhead. Providing a strong contrast was a pinkish stubble that in places grew together tightly enough to form a pale carpet under his feet. Everywhere he looked, diminutive and fast-moving creatures scurried through the diverse, angular grassland.

Striding along, trying to gain a sense of the place while having to remind himself not to take giant leaps, he topped another dune, pushed through a closely packed stand of yellow-striped, single-leafed vegetation, and found himself confronting a pack of creatures busily cropping fat blue blades that grew in dense, solitary clumps. Unlike the bear-thing, these browsers were built low to the ground, though they featured the same arrangement of subdividing limbs as the larger animal. There the resemblance ended.

Each individual was about the size of a small pig. Their front ends were narrow, the opposite terminus broad and flattened. Once again, each sported four legs that separated further into eight forelegs. A single small eye stared up at him from a globular housing near the tip of the pointed end, while a much larger one was located directly behind it and higher up. Speculating on the unusual in-line ocular arrangement, Flinx hypothesized that one eye was permanently focused for close-up work while the other searched for movement at a distance. Like the jaw-bear, their bodies were smooth and, except for a few gray and black patches here and there, a startling creamy white. And just like the bear-being, each of them had a pair of cranial appendages protruding from the front of its skull. At present, every one of them was pointing directly at Flinx.

Half closing his eyes to relax himself, he felt that he was projecting a sense of complete well-being, of calm and contentment, that bordered on lethargy.

In seconds they were clustering around him, rubbing up against his legs like so many arrowhead-shaped alien house cats. At the same time, they began vocalizing sharp clicking sounds that reminded him of recordings he had heard of terrestrial crickets. In this case, exceedingly large terrestrial crickets.

The feelings, in the best sense of the term, were mutual. The more he relaxed, the more the arrowhead cats did, and the more he felt himself at ease. So much so that despite some nervousness on Pip’s part, he felt safe in taking a seat in the midst of the pack. They swarmed him immediately, chattering away like a dozen attenuated snare drums come to life, the emotions they were registering anything but hostile.

Attracted by the noise, another couple of representatives of the local fauna appeared, pushing their way forcefully through the high, solo-stalked flora. The newcomers were considerably larger than the arrowhead-shaped creatures, each massing about as much as a heavy dog. Their appearance being notably less benign than that of the browsers clustered around him, Flinx started to scramble to his feet. As soon as he sensed what both of the new arrivals were feeling, however, he allowed himself to relax once again.

The new arrivals had eight main limbs apiece, four to a side, each further dividing according to the apparently dominant local pattern into a pair of separate forelegs. That gave them sixteen legs apiece to go along with the four bright eyes: two facing forward to provide binocular vision, one each aimed to either side to supply tracking in parallel. Coupled with a narrow mouth full of slim but sharp centimeter-long teeth, it was clear that these most recent visitors had evolved to eat something more substantial than grass.

Yet as they approached the wary but still-seated Flinx, not only did they ignore the potential arrowhead-shaped prey crowding around him; they positively purred. While their scaly flanks were not nearly as velvety to the touch as those of the clicking, chattering arrow-cats, they made up in displays of affection what they lacked in suppleness.

Landing on her master’s shoulder, Pip surveyed the alien love-fest, flicked out her tongue several times in a reptiloid gesture whose meaning was beyond Flinx’s purview, coiled her hind half snugly around his neck, and settled down for a nap, oblivious to the activity around him. Meanwhile, the arrowhead cats and the two predators had been joined by a dozen or so much smaller creatures, each no bigger than a wingless pigeon and considerably more wiry. They boasted the same pair of peculiar cranial appendages possessed by every example of the local fauna he had encountered so far. While built close to the ground, these latest locals to push up against him were not devoid of limbs. Each had two, appropriately separated into two more.

Eyeing the mass of alien affection swarming over his lower body and nuzzling his back, Flinx decided that instead of Arrawd, this world might more appropriately have been called Legs, if only by the Commonwealth probe that had surveyed it.

Cuddly as was the creature conclave, before the sun reached its midpoint in the sky he wanted to see as much as possible of the region that lay within easy walking distance of the
Teacher
. Of course, the light gravity considerably aided the number of kilometers he could cover. Careful not to kick or step on any of his captivated local admirers, he rose, having to gently dislodge or brush several of them away from the legs of his jumpsuit. Primitive though were the simple emotions engulfing him on all sides, he found he was able to perceive their collective disappointment without straining.

A single leap, a giant stride, and he was off and running. Jolted from her brief nap, Pip rose complainingly into the air as she was forced from her perch on his shoulder. Leave it to a minidrag to throw a hissy fit that was literal as well as metaphorical, he thought as he joyfully extended his bounding stride.

What he forgot to keep in mind, because he was not used to taking such long steps, was that the sudden ability to span additional space also exposed one to additional dangers. One such, as treacherous as it was innocuous, took the form of an unexpectedly deep hole that had been inadvertently camouflaged by its excavators. As Flinx’s right foot descended, the occupants of the hole took scampering flight. When his boot entered the burrow, the owners were no longer present.

A surprised look on his face, he threw out his hands and arms to break his fall as he went down. Lesser gravity or no, he hit hard. An electric pain shot up his right leg, and he was grimacing as he hit the ground.

Angry at himself, he gently disengaged his right foot from the gap that had momentarily swallowed it and began to feel gingerly of the limb from toe to knee. Nothing appeared to be broken, but when he tried to stand and put pressure on it, the injured area protested vehemently. It took only another minute to trace the problem to a sprained ankle.

He was in no particular danger. A quick call via the communicator that was part of his service belt would cause the
Teacher
to send out the small skimmer it carried in its cargo hold. The danger was not to him, but to Commonwealth protocol regulating Class IVb worlds. Unless the initial planetary survey had been very wrong, or severely limited in scope, or the local dominant species had made unexpectedly giant strides in scientific achievement that he had somehow overlooked during his own admittedly brief survey from orbit, the skimmer represented technology far in advance of anything yet developed on Arrawd. It was incumbent on him to make every effort to ensure such a device was not observed by the locals.

He considered how to proceed. The craft could fly low, just above the tips of the tallest growths, and at slow speeds made very little noise. Furthermore, he had chosen an area of sparse population in which to set down. Even if the skimmer was seen by a couple of locals, it was unlikely any report they might decide to make would be believed. Circling low, Pip regretted the absence of any vegetation with branches, and had to settle for landing on the sandy soil. Head up, wings half furled, she watched Flinx carefully as she monitored his pain.

A second try at standing proved as futile as the first. While there was plenty of fallen and dried plant matter scattered about, none of it proved strong enough to serve as a temporary crutch. Lips tight, he reluctantly reached for his communicator, and was about to request that the skimmer be dispatched when a thought stopped him.

No, not a thought. A feeling. Paired.

Each was among the clearest emotional projections he had ever received, even from others of his own kind. Though not human, they were startling and uncompromising in their clarity. The first was a rapidly and continuously shifting blend of anticipation, determination, and fear. The second was unchanging and relentless in its lightweight fury: anger underlain with resentment. For all his practice in reading the emotions of others, in all his years of trying to gain control of his erratic, sometimes pain-inducing Talent, this was the first time perceived feelings had leaped out at him with such crystalline transparency.

What sort of beings could project their emotions as sharply as if they were shouted words? His fingers hesitated above the communicator. He knew he should not have any contact with the local sentients. By doing so, he would be flouting a long list of elemental Commonwealth laws. On the other hand, he told himself as the emotional clarity of the two individuals approaching the clearing where he was sitting continued to intensify, he had been raised a thief. In his time, he had been compelled to steal many things. He had already stolen time on this world. Taken in that context, the theft of a little information, without anyone continuing any the wiser, to satisfy his own private curiosity and without any intent to disseminate, seemed but a minor infraction.

His hand drew away from the communicator and moved to position itself near the needler attached to his belt. While their emotions were presently nonthreatening, he had no way of knowing how those coming this way would react at the sight of him. Nor did he know if they were armed, and if so, with what. Death brought about by primitive devices was no less final than that begat by advanced weaponry. He needed to be prepared for anything. As he had been all his life.

Calling Pip to him, he bade the flying snake curl up in his lap, leaned back with his palms pressing into the cool, slightly moist soil, and waited to see what was about to step through the surrounding vegetation.

CHAPTER

4

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

Storra was tired, bored, and frustrated at the waste of time. She should be home, finishing the fringe work on the magaarje runner. It was a particularly fine piece of work, incorporating both suru and sjal patterns, and it ought to bring a high price in Metrel’s southern marketplace. If she was ever allowed to finish it, that is. She resented every timeclick that took her away from the work. It was beginning to look like this wild wandering of her beloved mate, she reflected dourly, would end up costing her an entire morning.

Ebbanai’s confidence was starting to ebb even though they were still some distance from where the arrival had taken place. Storra’s uncompromising resort to logic and reason was beginning to have an effect on him, wearing down his conviction like gherowd bone beneath a file. Had he truly seen what he claimed to have seen? Or, as she had suggested, had he taken a fall after all, and hit his head, and dreamed everything but the falling and the head-hitting?

No. He rose a little higher, lifting his upper torso another fold out of the pelvic buttress. He had not been dazed, or dreaming. It had all been real, as real as the sand and dirt presently passing beneath his four sandal-shod foot-pads. What he
did
fear was that the machine he had seen had swallowed up its creatures and left during the night. If that was the case, and no proof of its ever having been on the beach had been left behind, he would never hear the end of it. For the rest of his life, Storra would drag it out in the middle of every argument and use it against him.

The machine-dune had to still be there. It
had
to be. He pushed through a denser clump of tall cherkka—and then it no longer mattered whether the gigantic apparition remained on the beach or not.

Because its occupant was not with it. It was here, right in front of them.

Alongside him, he heard Storra react, her startled inhalation a fusion of whistle and gasp. Every one of her skin flaps lifted and extended to its maximum, giving her the temporary appearance of a threatened horwath raising its defensive spines. Her eyes widened such an extent that they threatened to sprain the encircling muscles. All her anger, annoyance, and uncertainty evaporated in the space of a second.

As for the creature, neither it nor the smaller, winged being coiled about its upper arms made any effort to stand in response to their arrival. Nor did either of the alien beings react sharply. Their calm in the face of the confrontation almost suggested that the arrival of Ebbanai and his mate had been anticipated.

Nearly as shocking to Storra as their appearance, and certainly as much to Ebbanai, were the mouth-noises the alien spoke. These were directed not at them, but toward a small device the creature took from a belt and held up to its enormously wide, flattened mouth. Alien noises went in, but comprehensible Dwarrani came out.

“My name is Flinx. I am an intelligent being like yourselves.” A single hand at the end of a single forearm pointed skyward, and a stunned Storra could not keep from looking for its missing counterpart. “I come from far away, from a world that circles a star not unlike your own.” The alien arm lowered to indicate a leg that terminated in a similarly solitary forelimb. “I was running, and I’ve injured myself. I mean you no harm.”

He did not have to say so. Both Ebbanai and his mate already knew it.

They knew it because they could sense it. How, neither of them could understand. They had made no contact with the alien’s Sensitives. They could not do this, because it
had
no Sensitives. Except for the peculiar short, red tendrils that sprouted somewhat gruesomely from its skull, it was evident that the alien had nothing of that vital nature to conceal. Yet despite the creature being Sensitive-deprived, they could perceive its feelings as clearly as if that myriad of tiny red tendrils possessed the same function and were presently coiled tightly around their own antennae.

Somehow it was communicating its emotions to them without physical contact. Ebbanai would have declared this to be impossible, if not for the indisputable fact that it happened to be taking place. He turned to Storra.

“Are you feeling these—these projections, as I am?”

Openmouthed, she indicated assent. “How can this be happening?” She looked back down at the alien. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Of course not.” Her mate spoke with quiet but unmistakable satisfaction. “It’s impossible, remember?” With both of his right hands, he indicated the incongruous creature seated before them. “Just as is the undeniable existence of this being.”

She found herself grateful to her mate twice over. First, for having had the strength of character to persist in his beliefs and insist she come see the truth of them for herself. And second, for not shaming her with his triumph. Other females might seek mates with money or reputation: once again she found herself content to have chosen one whose most outstanding asset was a goodness of spirit and soul. Moving impulsively close to him, she flicked her Sensitives against his.

The depth of feeling that passed between them was not lost on Flinx. He understood immediately the nature of their relationship without having to inquire.

Despite the additional forelimbs, their movements were somewhat awkward, as if their lean and willowy bodies did not quite know what to do with the extra forelegs and arms. No doubt that was just his own alien perception. In all probability they considered themselves quite graceful. He marveled at how the quartet of forelegs worked in concert, when it seemed certain every second step would see them getting entangled and tripping all over themselves.

“You two are related, and very fond of one another.” He spoke gently into the translator he held.

Contact between them broke as both regarded him with fresh astonishment. “How—how can you know that?”

Seeing no reason to withhold information about himself that would never leave this isolated world, and feeling that revelation of his ability to communicate on the emotional level could only enhance his stature among natives who did likewise, he told them.

“I can perceive what others are feeling.” He gestured with the translator as Pip stirred in his lap. “Just now, you two were expressing the warmest sentiments toward one another.”

While making no effort to hide her astonishment, Storra was also suddenly wary of this creature. She brushed two hands across her head, pressing her antennae gently back against her smooth skull. “If you can comprehend what we are feeling, and without Sensitives, then how can we be sure without any kind of physical contact between us that the emotions we are receiving from you are a genuine expression of your own feelings?”

Flinx started to rise, grimaced, and sat back down. “I’d be happy to make physical contact, but I can’t stand up.” Once again, he indicated his right leg. “I told you; I’ve injured my ankle.”

“And with only two instead of four to call on for support.” Despite the exhibition of unimaginably advanced technology he had observed the night before, Ebbanai was moved to sympathy for the creature. When it came to a proper number of limbs, its ancestry was decidedly shorted.

“Storra, I’m sure there’s no deception here.” His Sensitives flicked toward her but did not reach for contact. “Touch or no touch, I’m confident the emotions we are receiving from this—visitor—are authentic. It’s no threat to us, and it’s hurt.” All four fingerless, flange-tipped hands gestured toward the seated figure of Flinx. “It makes no threats, though I suspect that if it wished to do so, it could. It shows no fear. In fact, the only concern I feel from it is for
us
and for our state of mind—not for itself.”

Ebbanai had voiced exactly what Storra was feeling, though she was reluctant to admit it. As the one who did all the trading and bargaining in the marketplace, it was natural that she should be the more suspicious of the pair. Staring down at the Sensitive-less being, she found her eyes drawn to the device it held that allowed them to communicate, then down to the belt it wore. All manner of interesting devices were visible there. If half of what her mate had told her was true about gargantuan machines dropping from the sky and turning themselves into sand dunes, what other possibly useful wonders might this visitor command? What miraculous devices did it possess? And how could she, and Ebbanai, possibly profit from them, and from the presence of their visitor?

It was a tried and trusted tenet that an injured traveler should be given succor. If they helped this creature, would it not be grateful? It certainly struck her as completely civilized. Though they knew nothing of its ethics or those of its kind, its comments were not those of a hostile barbarian. What did they have to lose by showing a little compassion? If it wanted to harm them, surely it would have done so by now, out of fear of what they might do to it. She still could not get over her amazement at its ability to project and receive emotions in the absence of Sensitives or, for that matter, any kind of physical contact. Thus far it had projected nothing but calmness and concern for their reaction.

She came to a decision.

Flinx knew about it before either of the Dwarra could say anything. He felt the subtle shift in their feelings toward him; from initial fear, to amazement, and now to concern.

“Up, Pip.” As the minidrag, on command, took to the sky, Flinx extended an arm toward the two natives.

After a quick glance at one another, they cautiously approached. Ebbanai slipped all four forearms underneath the alien’s right arm while Storra did the same on the other side. “Together now,” he urged the creature. Bracing himself against the support of the two natives, Flinx clenched his teeth and pushed himself upward.

All three of them nearly went down. Though no taller than the locals, Flinx was considerably heavier. Furthermore, the disparity in weight reflected more than just a difference in bodily proportions. Evolved to cope with heavier gravity, his muscles and bones were significantly denser than those of the Dwarra.

“Freint!”
Storra exclaimed as she struggled to keep all four feet under her and the hundreds of skin flaps that lined her body untensed. “Are your people made of stone?”

“I’m sorry.” Flinx tried to place more of his weight on his good leg as he hopped along between them. “My world is different from yours. Higher gravity there means living things have to develop dense muscles and heavier, thicker bones just to support themselves.”

“What’s gravity?” a curious Ebbanai asked, when no equivalent was forthcoming from the translator device hanging around the alien’s neck.

For the first time, the initial Commonwealth survey’s designation of this world as one supporting no more than Class IVb technology was confirmed in person. Flinx did his best to explain.

“It’s a force that one object exerts on another,” he told the male Dwarra. “It’s what keeps everything fixed to the surface of the world and prevents it from flying off into space.”

Bent under her share of the burden that was their guest, the female made a gargling noise in her throat. “I won’t argue with alien notions of how things work because I’m not familiar with them, but everyone knows that weight is what keeps things fixed to the ground. When you drop something, weight is what makes it fall.”

While the two explanations were not irreconcilable, Flinx decided that now was not the time to begin lecturing his amiable hosts on the finer points of elementary physics. He needed to concern himself with more prosaic matters: such as where they were taking him.

“To our home, of course,” Ebbanai informed him when he voiced the question. “To a place where you can heal.”

Flinx did not counter that better facilities for speeding his recovery were available on board his ship. He thought it unlikely these remarkable folk would willingly board his craft. They might be bold, but if confronted by something as intimidating and alien to them as the
Teacher,
their resolve was likely to shrivel. Better to engage them on ground and terms they found familiar.

As the trio made their way northward through the dunes, with Pip patrolling lazily overhead, it became clear to him that these creatures were not true empaths like himself. Whereas he could perceive their emotions effortlessly, they could not tell what he was feeling unless he worked to project his emotions directly onto them. Moreover, they could only recognize each other’s feelings when physical contact was made through the cerebral transmitter/receivers they called Sensitives.

That aside, with the exception of Pip, with whom he shared a unique mental connection, they were more like him in their emotionally perceptive abilities than any species he had ever encountered. The feelings he received from them were as clear and pure and easy to interpret as words on a screen. He felt an instant rapport with these simple sentients of a kind he had never experienced before, not even with another human being. Well, with the exception of perhaps one or two human beings, he corrected himself. And a certain thranx.

It was as if, after searching for uncomplicated, straightforward empathetic connections all his life, he had finally stumbled on a situation where they were not only not special, but a natural component of everyday person-to-person existence. The realization left him more than a little overwhelmed.

Careful, he admonished himself. Thus far, he had only met two of the natives. Their mental condition might be as unique as it was isolated. He knew nothing of the rest of the population. He needed to reserve judgment concerning the abilities of the species as a whole until he had experienced a substantially greater number of encounters. Appearances, even mental ones, could be deceiving.

He nodded toward the native on his right. Though the representatives of the two sexes were approximately the same height, the limbs of the male were larger in diameter than those of the female, while the lower torso of the latter was wider. He recalled the unique birthing process described by the
Teacher,
but saw no sign that the female was carrying pouched young.