Orphan Star (Pip & Flinx)

  “Don’t worry,” he said, trying to cheer her as the groundcars drew near, “there must be quarters provided for thranx personnel. You can warm up soon.”

  And explain your story to the local authority in private if you wish, he added silently.

  His thoughts were broken as the first big car pulled to a halt before them. As he waited Flinx kept a tight grip on Pip, holding the tense minidrag at the wing joints to prevent any sudden flight. Yet despite the minutes he had already spent calming his pet, Pip still struggled. When he finally settled down, he coiled painfully tight around Flinx’s shoulder.

  People began to emerge from the groundcar. They did not wear aquamarine robes of the Church, nor the crimson of the Commonwealth. They did not look like Commonwealth-registered operatives, either, and they were carrying ready beamers.

  Seven armed men and women spread out in a half-circle which covered the two arrivals. They moved with an efficiency Flinx did not like. As the second car arrived and began to disgorge its passengers, several members of the first group broke off to run up the ramp and disappear into the shuttle.

  “Now listen . . .” Flinx began easily. One of the men in the group waved his beamer threateningly.

  “I don’t know who you are, but for now, shut up.”

  Flinx complied readily, as Sylzenzuzex—frozen now with more than the cold—stood behind him and studied their captors.

  Several minutes passed before the pair who had entered the shuttle re-emerged and shouted down to their companions: “There’s no one else aboard, and no weapons.”

  “Good. Resume your positions.”

  Flinx turned to the squat, middle-aged woman who had spoken. She was standing directly opposite him. She had the face of one who had seen too many things too soon and whose youth had been a time of blasted hopes and unfulfilled dreams. A vivid scar ran back from a corner of one eye in a jagged curve to her ear, then down the side of her neck to disappear beneath her high collar. Its livid whiteness was shocking against her dusky skin. She flaunted the scar like a favorite necklace. He noticed that her simple garb of work pants, boots, and high-necked overblouse had seen plenty of use.

  Taking out a pocket communicator, she spoke into it: “Javits says there’s no one else on board and no weapons.” A mumble too soft and distant for Flinx to understand issued from the compact unit’s speaker.

  “No, instruments don’t show any automatic senders aboard, either. Has the ship in orbit responded again?” Another pause, then, “It looks like there’s only the two of them.”

  She flipped off the unit, stuck it back in her utility belt and regarded Flinx and Sylzenzuzex. “Does anyone know you’ve come here?”

  “You don’t expect me to make it easy for you, do you?” Flinx responded, to divert attention from Sylzenzuzex as well as to answer the query.

  “Funny boy.” The woman took a deliberate step forward, raised the beamer back over her left shoulder. Pip stirred and she suddenly became aware that the minidrag was not a decoration.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Flinx told her softly. She eyed the snake.

  “Toxic?”

  “Very.”

  She didn’t smile back. “We can kill it and the both of you, you know.”

  “Sure,” agreed Flinx pleasantly. “But if you swing that beamer at me, then both Pip and I are going to go for your throat. If he doesn’t kill you I probably will, no matter how fast this ring of happy faces moves. On the off chance we don’t, then I’ll be dead and your superior will be damned displeased at not having the chance to question me. Either way, you lose.”

  Fortunately the woman wasn’t the type to act without thinking. She stepped back, still keeping her beamer trained on him. “Very funny boy,” she commented tightly. “Maybe the Madam will let me have you after she’s finished asking her questions. Act as smart as you like. You’ve got a short future.” She gestured sharply with the beamer. “Both of you—into the first car.”

  They walked between the beamers. Flinx tensed in readiness as he entered the large compartment, saw to his disappointment that two armed and equally tense people were awaiting him inside. No chance of jumping for the controls, then. He climbed in resignedly.

  Sylzenzuzex followed him, having to squat uncomfortably on the bare floor because the car was equipped only with human seating, which would not accommodate her frame. Several of the armed guards followed. To Flinx’s relief, the squat woman was not among them.

  A low hum rose to a whine as the groundcar lifted. Staying a meter above ground, it moved toward the nearby buildings, the second car following close behind. As they came nearer, Flinx could see that the complex was built at the edge of the forest. In the distance he could just make out several additional structures hugging the mountainside, high up among the trees.

  The cars pulled up before a steeply gabled five-story building. They were escorted inside.

  “The buildings here are all slants and angles,” Flinx commented to Sylzenzuzex as they made the short walk from car to entranceway. “The trees already show that the snowfall here must be tremendous in winter. And this is the local equivalent of the tropics.”

  “Tropics,” she snorted, her mandibles clacking angrily. “I’m freezing already.” Her voice dropped. “It probably doesn’t make any difference, since we’re likely to be killed soon. Or hasn’t it dawned on you that we’ve stumbled onto a very large illegal installation of some kind?”

  “The thought occurred to me,” he replied easily.

  Taking a lift to the top floor, they came out into a corridor along which a few preoccupied men and women moved on various errands. They were not so absorbed that they failed to look startled at the appearance of Flinx and Sylzenzuzex.

  The group made one turn to the left, continued almost to the end of a branch corridor, then stopped. Addressing the door pickup, the squat woman requested and received permission to enter. She disappeared inside, leaving the heavily guarded twosome to wait and think, before the door slid aside once again.

  “Send ‘em in.”

  Someone gave Flinx a hard shove that sent him stumbling forward. Sylzenzuzex was introduced into the room with equal roughness.

  They stood in a luxurious chamber. Pink-tinted panels revealed a rosy vista of lake and mountains, landing field and—Flinx noted with longing—their parked shuttlecraft. It seemed very far away now.

  A small waterfall danced at one end of the room, surrounded by carpets that were more fur than fabric. Thick perfume scented the air, clutched cloyingly at his senses. Behind them the door slid silently shut.

  There was another person in the room.

  She was seated in a lounge chair near the transparent panels, and was clad in a light gown. Her long blond hair was done up in a triple whirl, the three braids coiled one above each ear and the last at the back of her head. At the moment she was drinking something steaming from a taganou mug.

  Scarface addressed her with deference. “They’re here, Madam Rudenuaman.”

  “Thank you, Linda.” The woman turned to face them. Flinx sensed Sylzenzuzex’s surprise.

  “She’s barely older than you or I,” she whispered.

  Flinx said nothing, merely waited impassively and gazed back into olivine eyes. No, olivine wasn’t right—gangrenous would be more appropriate. There was an icy murderousness behind those eyes which he sensed more strongly than the drifting perfume.

  “Before I have you killed,” the young woman began in a pleasant liquid voice, “I require answers to a few questions. Please keep in mind that you have no hope. The only thing you have any control over whatsoever is the manner of your death. It can be quick and efficient, depending on your willingness to answer my questions, or slow and tedious if you prove reluctant. Though not boring, I assure you. . . .”

  Chapter Nine

  Flinx continued to study her as she took another sip of her steaming drink. She was almost beautiful, he couldn’t help but notice—though any trace of softness was absent
from her face.

  Reaching to one side, she picked up an intricately carved cane. With this she was able to rise and limp over to examine them more closely. She favored her left leg.

  “I am Teleen aux Rudenuaman. You are . . . ?”

  “My name’s Flinx,” he responded readily, seeing no profit in angering this crippled bomb of a woman.

  “Sylzenzuzex,” his companion added.

  The woman nodded, turned and walked back to resume her seat, instructing them both to sit also. Flinx took a chair, noticing out of the corner of an eye that the scarred woman called Linda was watching his—and Pip’s—every move from her position by the door. Sylzenzuzex folded herself on the fur floor nearby.

  “Next question,” the woman Rudenuaman said. “How did you get past the Church peaceforcer?”

  “We . . .” he started to say, but stopped as he felt a delicate yet firm grip on his arm. Looking past the truhand, he saw Sylzenzuzex eying him imploringly.

  “I’m sorry, Syl, but I’ve got an aversion to torture. We’re not going anywhere and for the moment, at least, I’d like to . . .” The truhand pulled away. He did not miss the look of utter contempt she threw him.

  “Sensible as well as sassy,” Rudenuaman commented approvingly. “I’ve been listening to you ever since you landed.” The brief flicker of a grin vanished and she repeated impatiently, “The fortresses, how did you get past?”

  Flinx indicated Sylzenzuzex. “My friend,” he explained, ignoring the hollow mandibular laugh that flowed from her, “is a padre-elect currently working in Church security. She talked the peaceforcer into letting us pass.”

  Rudenuaman looked thoughtful. “The circumvention was accomplished verbally, then?” Flinx nodded. “We’ll have to see if we can do something about that.”

  “About a peaceforcer fortress?” Sylzenzuzex blurted. “How can you modify—in fact, how did you succeed in passing them? What are you doing here, with this illegal installation? This is an edicted world. No one but the Church or those in the highest echelons of the Commonwealth government have the codes necessary to pass a peaceforcer station; certainly no private concern has that ability.”

  The woman smiled. “This private concern does.”

  “Which concern is that?” Flinx asked. She turned her unfunny grin on him.

  “For a condemned man you ask a lot of questions. However, I don’t have the chance to brag very often. It’s Nuaman Enterprises. Ever hear of it?”

  “I have,” Flinx told her, thinking that this search for his parentage was making him a lot of rotten business contacts. “It was founded by . . .”

  “By my aunt’s relatives,” she finished for him, “and then further developed by my Aunt Rashalleila, may a foulness become her soul.” The smile widened. “But I am in charge now. I felt a change of personnel at the uppermost executive position was in order.”

  “Unfortunately, the first time I tried replacing her I chose for my cohort a man of muscle and no brains. No, that’s not accurate. Muscle and no loyalty. It cost me,” and she frowned in reminiscence, “a bad time. But I managed to escape from the medical hell my aunt had me committed to. My second attempt was better planned—and successful.

  “It is now Rudenuaman Enterprises, you see. Me.”

  “No private concern has the wherewithal to circumvent a Church peaceforcer,” Sylzenzuzex insisted.

  “Despite your security clearance, stiff one, you seem to cherish all kinds of foolish notions. Not only have we, with some help, I admit, circumvented them; but they remain in operation to warn off or destroy any visitors we do not clear.

  “You can see why your sudden appearance caused me considerable initial worry. But I’m not worried anymore—not since you proved so cooperative in following our landing instructions. Of course, you had no reason to expect a greeting from anyone other than a bunch of surprised Churchmen.”

  “You have no right . . .” Sylzenzuzex began.

  “Oh, please,” a disgusted Rudenuaman muttered. “Linda . . .”

  Scarface left her place at the door. Flinx held on tightly to Pip; this was no time or place to force a final confrontation. Not yet.

  The squat woman kicked suddenly and Flinx heard the crack of chiton. Sylzenzuzex let out a high, shrill whistle as one foothand collapsed at the main joint. Reddish-green blood began to leak steadily as she fell on her side, clutching with truhands and her other foothand at the injured member.

  Linda turned and resumed her position at the door as if nothing had happened.

  “You know she has an open circulatory system,” Flinx muttered carefully. “She’ll bleed to death.”

  “She would,” Rudenuaman corrected him, “if Linda had cracked the leg itself instead of just breaking the joint. A thranx joint will coagulate. Her leg will heal, which is more than you can say for what mine did after my aunt’s medical experimenters finished with it.” She tapped her own left leg with the cane. It rang hollowly. “Other parts of me also had to be replaced, but they left the most important thing,” she indicated her head, “intact. That was my aunt’s last mistake.”

  “I’ve only one more question for you.” She leaned forward, and for the first time since the interrogation began seemed genuinely interested. “What on Terra possessed you to come here, to a world Under Edict, in the first place? And only two of you, unarmed.”

  “It’s funny,” Flinx told her, “but . . . I also have a question that needs to be answered.”

  Seeing that he was serious, she sat back in her chair. “You’re a peculiar individual. Almost as peculiar as you are stupid. What question?”

  He was suddenly overwhelmed by a multitude of conflicting possibilities. One fact was clear—whether or not she could tell him what he wished to know, he and Sylzenzuzex would die. As the silence lengthened, even Sylzenzuzex became curious enough to forget the pain in her foothand momentarily.

  “I can’t tell you that,” he finally answered.

  Rudenuaman looked at him askance. “Now that’s strange. You’ve told me everything else. Why hesitate at this?”

  “I could tell you, but you’d never believe me.”

  “I’m pretty credulous at times,” she countered. “Try me, and if I find it intriguing, maybe I won’t kill you after all.” The thought seemed to amuse her. “Yes, tell me and I’ll let you both live. We can always use unskilled labor here. And. I am not surrounded by clever types. I may keep you around for novelty, for when I’m visiting here.”

  “All right,” he decided, electing to accept her offer as the best they could hope for, “I came hoping to find the truth of my birthright.”

  Her amused expression vanished. “You’re right . . . I don’t believe you. Unless you can do better than that . . .”

  She was interrupted by a chime and looked irritably to the door. “Linda . . .” There was a wait while the squat woman slid the door back and silently conversed with someone outside. Simultaneously something almost forgotten suddenly howled in Flinx’s mind.

  That was matched by a scream which everyone could hear.

  “Challis,” an angry Rudenuaman yelled, “can’t you keep that brat quiet? Why you continue to drag her around with you is something I never . . .” She broke off, looking from the merchant who was standing in the half-open doorway goggling at Flinx, to the red-haired youth, and then back at the merchant again.

  “Gu . . . wha . . . you!” Conda Challis finally managed to blurt, like a man clearing his throat of a choking bone.

  “You know this man?” Rudenuaman asked Challis. A terrible fury was building in her, as it slowly became clear how Flinx had found this world. She was only partially correct, but it was the part she could believe. “You know each other! Explain yourself, Challis!”

  The merchant was completely out of control “He knows about the jewels,” he babbled. “I wanted him to help me play with a jewel and he . . .”

  Unwittingly, the merchant had revealed something Flinx half suspected. “So, the Janus
jewels come from here. That’s very interesting, and it explains a great deal.” He looked down at Sylzenzuzex.

  “Most obviously, Syl, it explains why anyone would go to the incredible expense and chance the enormous penalty involved in ignoring a Church edict.”

  A miniature, silvery voice exploded. “You colossal, obese idiot!” it half screamed, half bawled.

  The already battered Challis looked down, shocked to see the ever-compliant Mahnahmi making horrible faces up at him. Flinx watched with interest. The merchant had finally done something dangerous enough to cause her to break her carefully maintained shell of innocence.

  Rudenuaman looked on with equal curiosity, though her real attention and anger were still reserved for Challis. She was eying him almost pityingly.

  “You are becoming a liability, Conda. I don’t know why this man has come here, but I don’t think it involves the jewels. Nor does it matter anymore that you’ve just given away the best-kept secret in the entire Commonwealth, because it will never leave this world—certainly not with either of these two.” She indicated Flinx and Sylzenzuzex.

  “But he’s been following me, haunting me!” Challis protested frantically. “It has to have something to do with the jewels.”

  Rudenuaman turned to Flinx. “You’ve been following Challis? But why?”

  The merchant yammered on, unaware he was providing confirmation of Flinx’s earlier reply. “Oh, some blithering insanity about his ancestry!” He didn’t add, much to Flinx’s dismay, whether he possessed any further information on that particular obsession.

  “Maybe I do believe you,” Rudenuaman said cautiously to Flinx. “If it’s an excuse, it’s certainly a consistent one.”

  Better get her off the subject of himself, Flinx decided. “Where are the jewels mined? Up at that big complex on the mountainside?”

  “You are amusing,” she said noncommittally. “Yes, I may keep you alive for a while. It would be a change to have some mental stimulation.” She turned sternly to face the merchant. “As for you, Conda, you have finally allowed your private perversions to interfere with business once too often. I had hoped . . .” She shrugged. “The fewer who know about the jewels and where they originate, the better. But considering what is at stake here I think I have to risk finding another outside distributor.”