Flinx in Flux (25 page)

Vandervort smiled knowingly. “There’s much more to it, my dear, than that. The Meliorares were reaching beyond their own limits, were tinkering with the very foundations of humanity. They were trying to improve on nature by eliminating serious diseases right in the genes, reducing the effects of aging, increasing physical strength, and raising intelligence levels. All well and good.

“But they also tried new things. Frightening things. They tried to goad the human body into achieving gains it had never been designed or intended to cope with. They were trying to stimulate evolutionary leaps, not merely cosmetic ones.” She stared down at her left arm and its plastic sheath.

“A great many, too many, of their experiments ended in grotesque failure. There was a lot of mercy killing. I remember some of it from when I was young and just getting interested in gengineering and its related disciplines. As I matured, I developed the usual perverse interest in the Society and its work. Every gengineering student does, sooner or later. You dig up everything you can, which is very little.You learn enough to figure out that the Meliorares were as mad as they were brilliant. Skill and intelligence gone amok.”

“You remember a lot,” Clarity said shrewdly. “What finally happened to them? I did my own reading as a student. I’d like to see how it matches up with yours.”

“The Society members? Most of them were killed in fights with arresting peaceforcers. A few chose to surrender and endure mindwipe. One of them,” she added with no change of inflection, “was my mother’s youngest brother. Not a member of the inner circle, but a supporter of their cause.”

Clarity gaped at the older woman. “I didn’t have any idea, Amee . . .”

“How could you?” Vandervort smiled gently. “I don’t walk about with the information emblazoned on my shirt. It wasn’t something the family was proud of. Fine biomechanic, my uncle. Not blazingly intelligent or innovative, but more than just moderately competent in his field. Only the fact that he was a peripheral supporter and not intimately involved in the most outlawed work the Society did enabled him to escape.

“When I was little and we were alone, he used to tell me stories. I thought at the time they were amusing. You spoke of our Flinx feeling the need to unburden himself. I think my uncle had the same need. So he delivered himself to a young girl who had only the vaguest comprehension of what he was talking about. I’m sure he had no idea that I’d some day enter the same field or that I’d remember anything of his tales, but I did.

“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.