Patrimony (3 page)

Finally forcing her way free of the jacket, Pip took to the air. In the denser atmosphere, she had to work even less than usual to get aloft. Her iridescent body was a sudden burst of color against the blue sky. A blur of pleated blue-and-pink wings, she needed but a moment to orient herself before diving directly at the charging carnivore—only to hesitate in midair. The poison she spat was lethal when it struck the eyes of a target, and she was deadly accurate from a surprising distance. Only one thing kept her from dropping the whistling predator in its tracks.

She couldn’t find its eyes.

Either like the fast-fleeing rollers it had none, an increasingly uneasy Flinx surmised, or else they were so deeply concealed beneath the coat of white-rose fur they could not be seen. As the beast drew entirely too near, suction from its mouth began to pluck at the legs of Flinx’s thermotropic pants. Normally steady as sunshine, his fingers were uncharacteristically fickle as they fumbled ever more anxiously for the handgrip of his gun. The deep-toned whistling, he now noted, came not from the gaping cavity of the creature’s distinctive, expansive mouth, but from the exceptionally large tripartite nostril set atop its skull. Mouth, nostril. Drawn by what must be an enormous lung, or set of lungs, air was sucked in through the vacuuming mouth and expelled through the bony structure atop the head. If he did not do something to halt or divert the monster, very shortly he would find himself in a position to study this fascinating example of adaptive alien biology from the inside.

As Pip darted and hovered overhead in a frantic but futile attempt to distract the lumbering carnivore, Flinx finally succeeded in pulling his pistol free of its holster and taking aim. Knowing nothing of the creature’s anatomy and in any case not having any time to evaluate it, he pointed the beamer’s muzzle at the center of the furmatted skull. Hopefully, the brain that powered the animal was located in the general region between mouth and nose.

It was only when he had the pistol leveled and ready to fire that he noticed it was set on Heat, its lowest calibration, instead of Stun or Kill.

CHAPTER 2

Fingers working frantically, Flinx hurried to reset the weapon as he threw himself desperately to one side. At the same time, he could feel his feet beginning to slip out from under him as the full strength of the oncoming carnivore’s predatory suctioning began to pull forcefully at his legs. Out of time and out of options, he raised the pistol.

A powerful odor of singed fur assailed his nostrils. The monster halted abruptly, its multiple legs bunching up beneath it like so many commuters trying to simultaneously pile into a transport featuring only a single open doorway. It stood where it had stopped, only a couple of meters from Flinx, swaying slightly on its plenteous foot-pads. Only when it keeled over onto its left side was he able to see the perfectly round fist-sized hole that had been punched clean through its skull from one side to the other. Exhaling, Flinx lowered the beamer.

He hadn’t fired.

The man who had was coming toward him. Bolted to a secure right-shoulder mount, a rifle that was nearly as long as the diminutive figure was tall whirred smoothly and softly as it slid backward on its brace to drop down into resting position against the gunner’s back. The shooter was clad in a single blue perflex suit designed to minimize weight while maximizing heat retention. The fabric over his right breast sported a couple of badly scuffed bronzed insignia. Though at first glance seemingly better suited to a diving competition than an outdoor stroll in Gestalt’s rough climate, the one-piece outfit was at once more practical and less cumbersome than Flinx’s makeshift cold-weather garb. Certainly if he lived on Gestalt, he reflected, he doubtless would opt for something similarly comfortable.

Have to go shopping if I’m going to be here for a while, he told himself as he enviously eyed the approaching figure’s suppleness of movement and lack of bulky attire. Edging away from the lifeless mass of dead carnivore, he started toward the individual who had fired the single lethal shot. He did so as much to put the still-warm corpse’s stomach-turning smell behind him as to greet his rescuer. Behind him, the muted whine of port maintenance robots indicated the rapid approach of sense-deprived mechanicals. Indifferent to the intensifying stench, they would systematically undertake the necessary cleanup.

Smiling, he extended a hand. Downward, since he was considerably taller than the man who had come to his aid. “Stimulating arrival procedures you have here.”

The hand that gripped his fingers was small, dark, and strong as duralloy. White teeth gleamed in a dark face. It was impossible to tell if the official had any hair, since the integrated hood of the insulating perflex suit covered his head completely. His eyes were large and slightly almond-shaped. Though these were suggestive of Asian ancestry, the remainder of his features reflected the usual Terran homogeny. The only accent in his terranglo was local, the words emerging from his mouth slightly more clipped and formal than usual.

“No extra charge,” he quipped. Turning, he looked on as a mechanical loader picked up the carcass of the dead predator and unceremoniously dumped it into the cargo bay of a self-powered transport. Pivoting in unison, the two mechanicals accelerated westward across the tarmac, heading for the nearest disposal bay.

“That’s a kasollt that was coming for you. See them occasionally up in the foothills. They generally don’t come into town. You’re lucky to see one.” His nostrils flared slightly, testing the air. “You wouldn’t think a predator, trying its best to conceal itself, would stink like that. Or its prey, hoping to hide. But a lot of the local fauna has no sense of smell. That includes the Tlel. Strange bit of evolution, here. They make up for it by having specialized appendages on their heads that let them detect individual electrical fields. Like sharks on Earth.” Turning back to Flinx, he eyed the youthful newcomer appraisingly.

Flinx’s reply was measured. “I think I was lucky to see
you
.”

The official’s grin widened as he acknowledged the backhanded thank-you. “This port doesn’t get many noncommercial arrivals. As soon as the kasollt was spotted chasing the olu herd out onto the field, some of us over in control thought it might be a good idea for one of us to come out and meet you personally.” On his back, the intuitive rifle murmured softly by way of agreement. The man glanced at the shape that was moving around inside Flinx’s jacket. “I see that you’re not entirely alone. Just guessing based on the movement, I’d say your companion’s an interesting creature.”

“So I’ve been told.” Through the fog of his breath, Flinx gestured toward the nearby complex of low-domed buildings. “Can we continue this inside? It’s chilly out here.”

“It’s chilly everywhere here. This is Gestalt. Come on.” Turning, his host led Flinx away from the shuttle. Behind them, the onboard AI observed their departure, retracted the landing ramp, and switched to Secure mode. Then it settled down in comfortable cybernetic hibernation to patiently await its owner’s return.

“I’m Third-Level Port Administrator Payasinadoriyung.” Before his guest could respond, he added, “Call me Paya.” This helpful and downright necessary recommendation was followed by an expectant pause.

“Mastiff,” Flinx told him, utilizing the alias he had already supplied to landing control. “Skua Mastiff.”

Accepting this without comment, the official nodded in the direction of the well-equipped service belt that was concealed beneath the hem of Flinx’s jacket. “You didn’t defend yourself.”

“I didn’t think I’d need a gun here, on the tarmac. Consequently, the burst level on my weapon was set too low. I was trying to adjust it when you saved me the need.”

Paya nodded understandingly. “Make sure it’s properly set now.” He jerked a thumb back over his right shoulder. “You’ve met the kasollt. Gestalt’s home to multiple kinds of carnivore that all have one thing in common. They’re all hungry, all the time. Even downtown, everyone here carries some kind of defense. Charged gloves, flashers, adjustable auralite, projectile weapon—next time I probably won’t be around to moderate any informal encounters between you and the local fauna.”

Flinx mulled the disconcerting advice. “I’ll need an activated weapon even in Tlossene?”

“Anywhere you go walking within the city limits, yes.” Paya’s accompanying nod was emphatic. “The Tlel believe strongly in live and let live, even when the more aggressive examples of the local fauna do not. Essentially existing here as guests, the rest of us are obliged to go along with local values. So while it’s not an everyday occurrence, there’s always the chance of encountering something nasty roaming the streets. City maintenance does a pretty good job of keeping things clean and safe, but a knowing citizen is always on guard.”

They were nearing the first building. Sheathed in the sprayed-on dark photogen that powered the structure, its curving outer wall flowed seamlessly upward like an inverted black wave to become the domed roof. The design was practical as well as reflective of Tlelian architectural influences.

Advancing through the triple entranceway, Flinx experienced a sequential and most welcome rise in ambient temperature. Slipping free of its carrying harness, Paya divested himself of his impressive weapon and secured it in a waiting open locker before directing Flinx to a small, slightly raised platform.

“A small formality.” His tone was apologetic as he indicated that the visitor should stand within the platform’s circumscribed center. “This will just take a moment. You won’t feel anything. Try not to move, please.”

Flinx nodded knowingly. “I’m familiar with the procedure.”

Stepping up, he moved to the middle of the circular dais and turned to face the port official. He was careful to keep his hands at his sides and did his best not to blink as a soft light swept over him. This was accompanied by a deep humming of short duration. Less than a minute after it had commenced, the Arrivals documentation procedure was over. It had recorded his height, weight, approximate age, bone density, retinal pattern, brain-wave configuration, number and location of internal organs, presence and type of any prosthetics, the nature of the devices and instrumentation he was carrying on his person, and a good deal more, in addition to ascertaining the general state of his health. In even less time, it had done likewise for Pip.

Flinx could have found a way to slip into the city without submitting himself to the procedure. It was something he had accomplished successfully before, on other worlds. But his purpose here suggested that he might need to make use of official channels, or to speak with government representatives. Where and when possible, it was always better to operate and move about as an officially registered visitor. By the time anyone might by chance or curiosity happen to find themselves intrigued by certain unusual aspects of his presence and express a desire to put forth the effort to dig further into his background, he should be long gone outsystem.

Stepping down off the platform, he loosened the soft-seal at his neck. After the encounter with the kasollt and the walk to the terminal, the heat inside was almost stifling. Waiting nearby, the diligent Paya was studying the three-dimensional readout his communit was projecting into the air between them. Looking up, he smiled affably “Says here you’re in extraordinarily good health.”

Flinx indicated the device. “Bioanalyzers don’t always show everything. As just one example, I suffer all the time from severe headaches.”

The administrator sighed. “I’m a bureaucrat who deals regularly with the general public. I can sympathize.” Raising an arm, he gestured down the corridor that led away from the Arrivals room. “We’re done here. Have a nice time on Gestalt, and I wish you the best of fortune with your research. If you don’t mind my asking, what are you researching?”

“History,” Flinx told him.

Understandably misunderstanding, Paya nodded. “This world has an interesting history, though a slim one. Humans have been living here for a fairly long time, though the immigrant population has always been limited.”

“By the Tlel?” Flinx inquired as they started down the hallway.

The official shook his head. “By choice. Gestalt is not a particularly hospitable world. This isn’t Kansastan, or Barabas, and it doesn’t offer new migrants the promise of a place like Dawn. Those who choose to settle here permanently are different from your typical colonist. It takes a certain singular mind-set not only to adapt to the planet, its limitations, and its climate, but also to live among the Tlel. Not everyone can handle it. Many of those who try manage for a few years, or five, or even a decade. Then they’ve had enough. The Tlel get to them, or the weather, or having to constantly keep an eye out for dangerous animals that on other colony worlds would be cleared from the vicinity of habitations.”

“How about you?” Flinx teased genially. “Are you
singular
?”

The silent emotions the official emitted suggested calm amusement. There was no indication of suppressed suspicion. He had accepted this new visitor’s definition of himself without hesitation.

“My wife and kids think so. My ancestors would think I’m crazy for choosing to live on a world like this. They all made their homes in warm, usually humid places. They’d find Gestalt too remote, too cold, and too dry. I happen to like it.” He looked up at Flinx. “I also like the Tlel, in spite of the fact that they’re completely oblivious to their own potent body odor. That’s only natural, considering that they can’t smell it. Or anything else. Most of us can manage the downsides or we couldn’t handle living here. I hardly know you, but I have the impression that you’ll get along just fine. Just a feeling.” His tone switched from the familiar to the formal. “You have a place to reside?”

Flinx shook his head. For a moment, he was simultaneously afraid and flattered that the administrator was going to invite him to stay with his family. While that would have advantages, he preferred the freedom that privacy would give him. Still, he felt slightly let down at Paya’s response.

“There are a number of decent places to stay in Tlossene. Almost all are set up to cater to the needs of visiting business travelers. As I said before, Gestalt doesn’t draw the casual visitor. What’s your preference? Luxury, economical, something in between?”