“He rambled on about ancient Terran philosophies and made up stories about creating a superhuman, someone who’d be immune to disease and doubt, full of confidence and vitality and physical strength, able to cope with any difficulties and solve any problem.”
Clarity laughed with relief. “That certainly isn’t Flinx. He’s strong but not abnormally so. I’ve known plenty of stronger men. He’s talked about his illnesses, so he’s hardly disease-resistant. As far as intelligence goes, he’s obviously much smarter than the average nineteen-year-old man, but there are dozens of other factors which could account for that. I’ve spent a lot of time with him, and he never propounded any new subatomic theories or tried to explain the true nature of space-minus to me. All the Society’s work did was give him the ability to read another person’s emotions, and we can’t be sure that’s the result of a Society operation. He may be a natural emotional mutant.”
“All of what you say may be perfectly true, my dear. That was the sad thing about the Meliorares and my uncle. They had grand goals and vaulting dreams, worked so hard to achieve them, and in the end created nothing but misery and despair among their subjects. Flinx is at least not miserable or visibly deformed.
“What the Church and government have fought so hard to suppress is any information about those experimental subjects who were neither destroyed, deformed, nor surgically made human again. Those extreme few, perhaps only two or three, who might just possibly have become something else. Something the Meliorares with their scattershot approach to eugenics did not themselves foresee. Something new.”
“Like empathic telepathy?”
Vandervort forced herself to sit straight and slide close to the spellbound Clarity. “Because I had a personal interest in their work and history, I spent more time researching it during my early studies than any of my colleagues. I never completely lost interest in what is after all a most fascinating subject. As an accepted scientist and scientific administrator, I eventually gained access to certain records that are kept sealed from the public and lower-level researchers.” She glanced at something over Clarity’s shoulder, then dropped her gaze again.
“I never suspected, no one imagined, that any of those special people might still survive, although it’s interesting to note that even after all these years the Meliorare files are still listed as active in the relevant records. Individuals the government salvaged have been fully rehabilitated and certified human. There shouldn’t be any blank spaces, but there are.”
“You think Flinx is a blank space?”
“If his claims are true, then anything is possible.”
“Did your uncle ever speak about things like emotional telepathy?”
“No, never. But I’ll tell you a story that might make you think.” She adjusted her position on the dispensary bed.
“There are oblique references to an unnamed individual who was involved with the capture of the last group of die-hard Society members. This took place on a minor world, oh, some six or so years ago. The government thought they had him along with the others.” She was watching Clarity carefully now.
“The records acknowledge the possibility that this individual spontaneously imploded, taking an entire warehouse complex and a group of peaceforcers and Society members with him.”
Clarity stared at her a long time before breaking the uncomfortable silence with nervous laughter. “That’s a crazy story, all right. Even if it’s true, it has nothing to do with Flinx because he’s right here. You saw him leave for the commissary. Did he look imploded?”
“Obviously not, my dear.”
“So the records and your story must be referring to someone else.”
“Yes, you must be right. It is self-evident that if he was involved, he did not implode.” She added nothing, just sat on the bed and waited while implications quietly percolated inside her most skilled protégée.
“You’re implying something that makes even less sense.”
“I am not implying much of anything.” Vandervort was watching the movement of medical personnel beyond her privacy curtain. “In any event, he is a free individual, and what he is or what he does is none of our business.”
“Right.” Clarity wondered why she felt so relieved.
“Now, go and run after him. But keep your distance. Bear in mind what I’ve told you and don’t get too friendly. It’s for your own good, child. He may be nothing more than a pleasant young man who may or may not also be an empathic telepath, but if his claim is true, he might on any given day become something else.”
Clarity rose from her chair. “I think you’re dead wrong there. I think I know him that well.”
“My dear Clarity, you have as much as told me that he does not claim to know himself.”
“It couldn’t have been him in that warehouse since he’s here and unharmed. I hope your arm feels better.”
“Thank you, dear. It’s healing property. I will talk to you later. Remember that you’re still an employee in good standing with Coldstripe. Look on this little enforced hiatus as an overdue vacation. With pay. I’ve already determined to request that status for all surviving employees. I’m sure our backers will go along with it.”
“Then I might as well enjoy myself for a while.” Clarity turned and headed out of the dispensary.
Yes, child, Vandervort thought. Enjoy yourself and watch your step.
Their fascinating young man did not present the appearance of an imploded personality. He was all of one piece, whole and intact. Which meant that the supposition she had read years ago was in error. Or else someone was trying to cover up an impossibility with an implausibility.
That suggested that something inexplicable had taken place in that obliterated warehouse. If this Flinx was the individual referred to only by number in the records, and he had not imploded and destroyed himself while the warehouse and its other occupants had unarguably gone to their respective destinies, then what had happened on that day and time? That was all much more interesting than it would be if he had imploded. It suggested certain things.
Lying in bed watching her arm regenerate, Alynasmolia Vandervort had plenty of time to think.
Flinx was eating at an empty table surrounded by empty tables. The reason for his isolation was clear to Clarity as soon as she entered the commissary.
Pip lay sprawled full-length in front of him in all her iridescent glory while Scrap squirmed nearby. The two flying snakes had raised off the table on their belly scales, looking like Terran cobras, their wings half-spread. They were begging for food.
While Flinx idly fed them, he sipped from a tall glass of dark liquid. Some kind of protein drink, Clarity decided. Quick and nourishing and that was about all. It struck her that he never discussed food. Perhaps he was one of those people who considered it nothing more than necessary fuel. It would help explain his wiry slimness.
“Amee sends her regards.”
He looked up at her. “I’m glad she’s feeling better. Just like I’m glad the trouble here has been resolved. It means we’ll be able to leave as soon as we’re ready. I have business that needs to be taken care of before I can return to make a proper study of the Sumacrea.”
She sat down next to him, making sure there was some space between. “That’s something we need to talk about, Flinx.”
“How do you mean?” he said, frowning.
“I’m back where I belong. I don’t need to go anywhere else.”
“You want to stay here? After everything that’s happened?” He flipped a small salty object in Scrap’s direction, watching as the young minidrag darted sideways to pluck it from the air.
“This is where my work and my friends are. Those who’ve survived. There’s a great deal that needs to be done. Tracking records, rebuilding . . .”
“None of which is your responsibility. You’re a gengineer, not a construction specialist. I’ve been thinking about everything you said on our way here, about all we talked about, and I thought you might like
to take some time off and go somewhere different. How about New Riviera? I’ve never been there myself, but I’ve heard about it.”
“Everyone’s heard about New Riviera. It’s just not possible, Flinx. I’d like to go someplace like that, I really would. I’ve dreamed about that kind of traveling.”
“Then why not go there? The Teacher can make it easily.” He smiled at her then, and it was open and innocent enough to break her heart. “Didn’t we get along well on the journey here from Alaspin?”
She turned away, pretending to be watching the flying snakes but unable to meet his gaze. “We had a wonderful time, but now it’s time for me to work.”
“I don’t understand. Surely after all you’ve been through your firm will grant you a leave. If it’s a question of money, if you’re embarrassed to let me pay for everything . . .” He reached out for her, and she flinched. She tried not to but could not help it. It was a very small movement, but he noticed immediately.
“That’s not it, is it? Nothing I’ve said has anything to do with what we’re talking about. You pulled away from me just then. Jerked away.”
“I’m just nervous, that’s all. Still jumpy after all those days we spent in the darkness, after the kidnapping and escape and all the shooting. Being shot at doesn’t go away as fast for everybody as it seems to for you.”
He bent to peer into her face. Amber eyes seemed to see right through her. “What’s really the matter, Clarity?”
“I’ve told you.” She rose. It had been a mistake to confront him like this. She had thought she would be able to handle it easily, and she had been badly mistaken. “I have to get back. There are records I have to—”
As she turned to leave, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm. Initiating contact with another human being was something he did only rarely. He heard her sudden intake of breath and felt the fear race through her. Not fear of the blackness, not this time. Fear of a different sort of dark.
“All of a sudden you’re frightened of me. Deity knows I tried to keep you at a distance when I thought we were getting too close, but I thought all that had changed. In spite of what I told you. Now everything’s changed again. What happened? Don’t try to tell me I’m wrong.”
“I can’t.” Her reply was a feeble whisper. “How can I? Could I hide my feelings from you even if I wanted to?”
He let go of her arm. “No. I can feel your fear. But it’s not straightforward, not simple. You’re confused; you don’t know what you’re really feeling.”
“Please,” she pleaded with him, “don’t.” She unexpectedly found herself starting to cry. “Maybe that’s all it is. Maybe I’m just uneasy about being around someone who knows what I’m feeling all the time.”
“But it isn’t all the time. My—ability—waxes and wanes.”
“How can I believe that?” She turned and ran out of the commissary.
A few fellow diners watched her retreat, then turned to glance in Flinx’s direction before returning to their meals. His gaze slowly came back to the table before him. Attuned to his mental distress, Pip watched him expectantly. After a while she resumed eating but kept a wary eye on her master. Though puzzled, Scrap continued to eat as before. Flinx occupied half his mind by hand feeding the little minidrag.
What had happened to change Clarity’s attitude toward him so radically? It was one thing to decide she had work to do, another to feel the fear he had sensed in her mind when he had grabbed at her. On the trip out from Alaspin she had been the one always flirting and teasing. Now the brightness had gone out of her.
Nor did it have anything to do with their sightless journey through the lower caverns of Longtunnel. The aversion she projected was directed at him, not at their shared experience together. No doubt the Sumacrea would be able to interpret it, but he was not that skilled, that sensitive. He could only feel the reality of her fear, not understand the reasons behind it.
That was the moment when he realized he was in love with her. Having never fallen in love before, he was unfamiliar with the process and so had failed to recognize it until now. His love for Mother Mastiff had been of a different kind, as had his restrained affection for women like Atha Moon. This was different, very different.
She had been the one seeking a closer relationship. She was the one with her finger on his emotional trigger, and now she was pulling out. It was not fair. He was disconcerted to discover that years of studying the emotions of others had failed to prepare him for dealing with his own. She was manipulating him when he should be manipulating her.
What truly hurt was that he could see no reason for her sudden change of heart. Perhaps being back among her own kind, friends and colleagues, had made her realize how much she missed them and their companionship. Jase had survived the fanatics’ assault. Did her relationship with him go deeper than they had revealed?
After all, what could she see in him, a young man just emerging from adolescence? Except that he had never really been an adolescent.
Had he been normal, unable to read her emotions, he might have handled her reaction better. It was bad enough to have your love spurned, far worse to know that someone you felt so strongly for feared you. How much nicer to be normal and ignorant. Then he would merely be baffled, not hurt. His Talent functioned when he wanted to be deaf and failed when he desperately needed it. What good was the damned thing?
All right. For some reason she’s no longer interested in you. She’s afraid of you. Why not? It’s only sensible. You warned her yourself, you damn fool. You’re a selfconfessed freak. She’s older than you—though not significantly—and a respected scientist. You saved her life, and for a while she couldn’t do enough to express her gratitude. Now that she’s back among her own kind, her own people, safe and secure, she doesn’t need your protection anymore. It’s easy for her to see you for what you are. Nothing has really changed.
His eyes and throat were burning. That was the way it was. That was the way it would probably always be for him, so he’d damn well better get used to it.
You’re going to have to adapt to what you are, he told himself. You’re going to have to be like Truzenzuzex and Bran Tse-Mallory—calm, logical, analytical in all things. Much easier to absorb and retain new knowledge that way, with no petty emotional distractions. You’re the one who can feel what others are feeling. You’re the last one who should let himself be overpowered by his own. Finish your meal and get out, get away from this place.
He took a long draught of his carotene-flavored protein drink. It slid down cold and undemanding. No, nothing had changed. There was still a whole Commonwealth to explore, to study. He would go and study as he had originally planned, and someday he would look back on this encounter as just another in a long list of learning experiences. Knowledge in and of itself. Knowledge of how another could feel about him. A valuable lesson. Wonderful how simple it was if you just put your mind to it, this ability to rationalize away extreme disappointment.
Go somewhere else. Find another intriguing world and punch it up on the holo projector. A world chosen at random. Not one where you would become lazy and vulnerable like New Riviera or a dangerous one like Alaspin. Something in between. A place stinking of normality. An ordinary, happy, content, developing world like Colophon or Kansastan where no one would know anything about him or his abilities. Where he would not have to confess to being the owner of a starship. Where he could lose himself among the masses of humanxkind and be free to observe while he matured. Blandness was what he needed now most of all. He needed not to be bothered, to be alone among his own kind.
Except that that was not ever really possible.
He was sitting there, content that he had come to terms with himself, when the shadow fell over him. Resolutions and hard decisions vanished as he turned quickly, heart leaping because he thought it was Clarity come back to tell him how sorry she was and say that she had not meant a word of it.
Instead he found himself eyeing a tall man wearing the uniform of
port Security. His cap was cocked to the right, and the right sleeve of his shirt was shredded. Transparent skin-seal glistened through the rips where a doctor had performed some hasty but effective skin grafting.
“You the visitor who calls himself Flinx?”
Pip caught a last crumb and swallowed it whole. The officer’s gaze took in the flying snake’s movements, and Flinx felt his admirably brief flash of fear.
“Since everybody seems to know who I am by now, I don’t see much point in trying to deny it.” Realizing how belligerent he must sound to a polite stranger, he added, “I’m sorry. My friends and I just had a very trying experience. Amazing how fast word travels.”
“Isn’t it? I’m Feng Kikoisa, head of Security here. What’s left of it.” He looked to be in his early fifties, taut as duralloy, the kind of professional who could cope with a world like Longtunnel.
“We’ve got one ship in geosynchronous orbit. Next scheduled arrival isn’t due for a month yet. I’m told that maybe it’s your ship.”
Flinx wiggled a finger in front of Pip and watched as the flying snake toyed with the movement. “I guess I’m not denying anything today. Am I in violation of some regulation?”
“Wouldn’t matter if you were. Nobody’s in any position to object. I’m just glad you’re here.”
Flinx turned his head sideways to squint up at the officer. “It’s nice to be popular. So why do I think there’s more to it than that?” He had a pretty good idea where the older man’s conversation was headed.
“You strike me as an observant young man. I’m sure you’ve noticed how limited our facilities here are. We never expected to have to deal with anything like this. We don’t have enough supplies, the right kind of—”
“I’ll take them,” Flinx said tiredly.
The officer was taken aback by Flinx’s abruptness and perhaps also because he would not be able to deliver all of his carefully rehearsed speech. “There aren’t that many.” He spoke as if he were still reluctant to believe his request had already been approved.