Alan Dean Foster - Flinx 10 - Sliding Scales

VIP免费
2024-12-08 0 0 495.63KB 107 页 5.9玖币
侵权投诉
Flinx 10 – Sliding Scales
Alan Dean Foster
Chapter One
I am in danger of becoming permanently, irrevocably, and unrescuably moody, Flinx found himself
thinking. He knew unrescuably wasn’t a word, but the mangled syntax fit his melancholic state of
mind. Forced to leave a badly injured Clarity Held behind on New Riviera in the care of Bran Tse-
Mallory and Truzenzuzex, pursued now by a newly revealed clutch of fatalistic end-of-the-universe
fanatics who called themselves the Order of Null (whose existence he might be responsible for),
sought by Commonwealth authorities and others for reasons multifarious and diverse, he could be
forgiven for sinking into a mood as black as the space that enveloped the Teacher.
Sensing his mood, Pip did what she could to cheer him. The flying snake whizzed effortlessly among
the garden and fountains of the lounge, occasionally darting out from behind leaves or bushes in an
attempt to startle her master—or at least rouse him from the lethargy that had settled on his soul ever
since their forced flight from Nur. Recognizing the effort she was making on his behalf, he smiled and
stroked her. But he could no more hide his frame of mind from the empathetic minidrag than he could
from himself. Emotionally, she knew him better than anyone, Clarity Held included.
Clarity, Clarity, Clarity, he murmured softly to himself. When will I be able to see you again? After
years of wandering, to have finally found someone he felt truly understood him and he might be able to
spend the rest of his life with only to lose so soon was almost more than he could bear. Instead of
having her to comfort him, he had agreed to spend who knew how long and how much precious time
searching for an ancient weapons platform fabricated by an extinct race that might not even prove
useful or usable in diverting an oncoming peril of incalculable dimensions and intent.
If that wasn’t enough to depress someone, he could not imagine what was. At least his recurring
headaches had not bothered him for a while.
Even some of the live plants in the relaxation chamber seemed to sense his melancholy, brushing his
seated form with branches and flowers. The exotic scents of several blossoms refreshed but did not
inspire him. The striking foliage could touch, even caress, but could not converse. That ability
remained the province of the Teacher’s ship-mind. To its credit, in its limited, formalized, electron-
shunting fashion, it tried to help.
“My medical programming informs me that extended periods of depression can affect the health of a
human as seriously as a bacterial infection.”
“Go infect yourself,” Flinx snapped irritably.
“It also,” the ship continued briskly, “is detrimental to the well-being of any unlucky sentiences who
are compelled to function in the vicinity of the one so depressed.”
Slumped in the lounge chair, Flinx glanced sideways in the direction of the nearest visual pickup. “Are
you saying that my mood is contagious?”
“I am saying that anything that affects you also affects me. Your continuing mental condition is not
conducive to the efficient functioning of this vessel.”
“Not to mention myself, eh?” He sat up a little straighter, brushing leaves and the tips of small
branches away from his legs and sides. Several of them, very subtly, retracted without having to be
touched. “You know, ship, I’ve been thinking about everything Bran and Tru told me, about all that we
discussed, and the longer I ponder on it, the more my inclination is to say the hell with it, the hell with
everything. Except for Clarity, of course.”
“I sense that this energetic verbal response is not an indication of a lightening of mood.”
“Damn right it isn’t. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t do exactly that?”
The ship did not hesitate. “Because if you do nothing, there is a strong likelihood that everything and
everyone in this galaxy will perish, with the concomitant possibility that the ultimate responsibility will
be yours.”
He rolled his eyes. “All right—give me another reason.”
Surprisingly, the ship did not respond. Advanced AI circuitry notwithstanding, there were still
occasional matters that required a certain modicum of cybernetic reflection. This, apparently, was one
of them. Or else, he told himself, it was simply pausing for dramatic effect, something it was quite
capable of doing.
“You are not thinking with your usual clarity—if you will pardon my use of that word in this context. I
have been meditating on this situation for some days now, and I believe I may have, in the course of
researching and studying the matter, come to a possible solution.”
For the first time all day, Flinx showed some real interest. “You don’t say? What have you been
studying? Human psychoanalysis?”
“Nothing so imprecise. Human behavior can be slotted, albeit with variations, into specific categories.
Analysis of yours suggests that you have been laboring under immense mental pressure for some time
now.”
The tone of his reply was sardonic. “That’s hardly a news bulletin, ship. Tell me: what prescribed
remedy have you uncovered?”
The ship could not keep a note of—artificial?—accomplishment from creeping into its dulcet
electronic tones. “Philip Lynx—you need a vacation. That one quick recent visit to Moth was not
nearly what is required. You need a vacation from your concerns, your worries, your fears. From
trying to see and learn and study. From the immense threat that looms over the galaxy. From yourself.”
It was not the response he had expected. Initially cynical, he found himself more than a little intrigued.
“You mean I need to spend time on a beach somewhere, or go for extended hikes in some woods? I’ve
done all that.”
“No. It’s true you have been to such places and done those things, but it was always with some specific
purpose in mind. You need to go somewhere and do some things to no purpose. You need to just ‘be’
for a while. This is a necessity for the health of any human. The library of me says so.”
He considered thoughtfully before finally responding, “I don’t know if I can do that, ship. I never
have.”
“Then,” declared the ship conclusively, “it is time you did so. Every one of my relevant stored medical
texts attests to the therapeutic value of such an undertaking. You need to go somewhere interesting and
expend some energy in doing nothing. It is necessary for your health.”
Could he? he found himself wondering. Could he set everything aside: thoughts of Clarity, of Bran
Tse-Mallory, and Truzenzuzex and the steadily approaching evil that lurked behind the Great
Emptiness, of the Tar-Aiym weapons platform and all those who sought him, and really do nothing for
any appreciable period of time? Could he, dare he, attempt the seemingly impossible? A vacation? Of
everything he had done in his short but full life, that struck him as being among the most alien. Even as
a child he had not been able to engage in such non-activity. He had been too busy stealing, to keep
himself and Mother Mastiff alive.
He had been on the verge of saying to hell with everything. Here was his ship advising him to do
essentially that, only without the attendant rancor. For a little while, at least. But where to seek such
mental and physical succor? He asked as much of the Teacher.
“I have devoted almost a full minute of thought to the matter,” the synthetic voice replied, clearly
gratified by Flinx’s decision. “Given the inauspicious interest in your person by everyone from several
independent inimical organizations to the Commonwealth authority itself, it is clear that you would not
be able to relax and refresh yourself on any developed world within the Commonwealth.”
Now there’s an understatement, Flinx thought.
“Persisting with this line of reasoning,” ship continued, “it is also plain that if you are forced to spend
time on an undeveloped, unexplored world, you will similarly be unable to unwind, as all your mental
acuity will perforce be focused on staying alive. This would seem to leave you with few options.”
“Indeed it would.” Flinx watched as Pip coiled around a dark-sided shrub and slid sinuously down the
oddly patterned bark. It did not appear to bother the bush.
“What is required is a comfortably habitable world that lies not only beyond the reach of
Commonwealth authority but of those other groups that seek to incommode you. A world where you
can move about without, as humans like to put it, having to constantly peer over your shoulder. I do
not have any shoulders to peer over, but I am able to grasp the philosophical conceit.”
“I always said you were full of conceit,” Flinx riposted. His heart wasn’t really in the verbal sparring,
though. He was, as ship had persisted in pointing out, very tired. “You’re going to tell me that you’ve
found such a refuge?” Near the pond, Pip was bobbing and weaving like a serpentine boxer as a thorny
flower struck reflexively in her direction.
“I do not possess sufficient information to so categorize it, but the world I have settled upon seems a
promising candidate. Certainly it appears to fulfill the requisite conditions.”
With a sigh he sat up straight on the edge of the lounge, trying hard not to think of Clarity Held and
whether she was recovered from her injuries. He refused to countenance the possibility that she might
not have survived. Without a doubt he needed to find something to divert himself from incessantly
dwelling on such dark possibilities.
“What’s the name of this handy haven you’ve found?” he asked dubiously.
“The planet is called Jast.”
“Just Jast?” he queried flippantly. “Never heard of it.”
“There is no reason why you should. It is not part of the Commonwealth and in fact does not even lie
within the vast reach of the Orion Arm considered Commonwealth space.”
Remembering that he was supposed to be searching for the vanished Tar-Aiym weapons platform, he
experienced a sudden flicker of interest. “It’s not within the Blight, is it?”
“No. Quite the opposite direction, actually.”
Just as well, he mused. Ship was proposing that he go to this world to relax. “Where, then?”
Much compacted in scope, a three-dimensional star map materialized helpfully in front of him. So far
off the familiar space-plus vectors was the blinking yellow indicator within that it took a moment
before his eyes found it. His brow furrowed.
“You’re right. That is outside Commonwealth space.”
“Jast lies in the region claimed by both the Commonwealth and that of the AAnn Empire,” ship
informed him. Flinx could see that for himself. The flashing indicator was located in a vast unclaimed
area approximately halfway between Rhyinpine and the AAnn capital of Blasusarr. A long ways from
anywhere, he reflected.
Maybe just what he needed.
“It’s certainly off the beaten path,” he admitted, increasingly intrigued. Pleased by her master’s
interest, Pip abandoned her shadowboxing with the long-suffering flower to flit back and settle herself
in his lap. “What besides its isolation makes it suitable for a safe respite?”
“Gravity is somewhat less than t-standard, which should make for ease of locomotion. The atmosphere
is reported to be heavy with organic contaminants, but nothing dangerous. The dominant sentient
species, the Vssey, are cordial enough toward visitors and have achieved a high level of technological
and social development. Their physical configuration renders them generally, though not exclusively,
pacific by nature. Politically, they are an independent system allied with the Empire. While some
Vssey have adapted AAnn ways and subscribe to the AAnn outlook, this acclimatization is far from
universal.”
Flinx made a face. “That doesn’t sound very relaxing to me. The place is likely to be full of AAnn.”
“Records relating to Jast are understandably sparse, but insist that all non-Imperial visitors are
welcome. Although your concern may be somewhat justified, Flinx, the corollary is that while
sojourning on Jast you are certain to be free of scrutiny from any Commonwealth organization or
independent hostile group, official or otherwise.”
It was a valid point. In return for exposing himself to the curiosity of potentially confrontational AAnn,
he would not have to worry about dealing with the attention of those who had recently been pursuing
him with ever greater enthusiasm.
“What’s Jast itself like?” He was halfway convinced that the ship had made a sensible choice.
“According to the most recent galographics of related but non-integrated systems, it is very much what
you would expect of a place that would draw the attention of the AAnn. Dry and desert-like, though
with considerably more widely scattered rainfall than is to be found on ecologically similar
Commonwealth worlds such as Comagrave, for example. One might think of it as a particularly wet
desert. Though fully adapted to hot, dry conditions, the native flora and fauna is abundant and varied.”
“And the Vssey themselves?”
“An unusual biotic type.”
An image promptly appeared in the air in front of Flinx. Lifting her head, Pip regarded it with casual
interest. The synchronized synthetic aroma that accompanied the likeness was new to her. If anything,
he thought as he studied the three-dimensional alien portrayal, the ship was yet again given to
understatement. The Vssey was like nothing he had encountered before in any of his extensive travels.
At least, he corrected himself, like nothing intelligent he had encountered.
On the included, integrated dimensional scale, the animated Vssey stood somewhat under a meter and
a half in height. Roughly cylindrical in shape, its lower body, or stem, was perhaps two-thirds of a
meter in diameter. At its base, this spread out and separated into four short, stubby, opposing, toe-like
flaps of flesh. The body itself was ridged with ligaments and muscles.
At the upper end, the body expanded out into a meter-wide flattened dome that resembled an ancient
umbrella. The overhanging, circular edge was fringed with a sufficiency of prehensile tentacles to
suggest that the Vssey were an especially dexterous species. There was no neck. Near the crown of the
dome a pair of eyes emerged on short, independently swiveling stalks. As the animation proceeded,
Flinx saw that this arrangement allowed the Vssey to see in any direction, as well as in any two
directions at once. Located above the flexing tentacles but well below the eyes, in place of readily
recognizable ears there flashed a narrow comb-like ribbon of erect, dull orange membrane that ran
around the entire circumference of the dome, making up in extent what it lacked in height. Below the
eyes was a slit of a mouth that, when opened, revealed two sets of flat grinding plates for chewing
food.
Though exceedingly odd-looking, it was evident that the Vssey had the necessary tools to see, hear,
and effectively manipulate their immediate environment. What they could not do, Flinx immediately
suspected as he continued to examine the detailed depiction, was get around very well.
“How do they move?” he murmured, fascinated as always by the sight of an entirely new sentient body
style.
“Notice the significant musculature lining the central body core,” the ship instructed him. “Observe.”
The lowermost portion of the body and its quadruple flaps promptly contracted and released, causing
the image of the Vssey to leap a few centimeters forward. The process repeated itself until Flinx,
adequately educated, called a halt to the display. As a method of locomotion suitable to what was
essentially a one-footed creature, the technique was admirable and efficient. It did not, however,
compensate for the fact that the Vssey were compelled to explore their surroundings literally one step
at a time. Flinx found himself smiling. A Vssey in forward motion resembled nothing so much as a
hopping mushroom.
“Is that as fast as they can go?”
“My records do not extend to the inclusion of a compilation of Vsseyan athletic accomplishments,
Flinx. But I would venture to say that even a moderately active human would easily be able to run
circles around any Vssey.”
“Or any AAnn would,” Flinx added somberly. Visions of the nimble, fleet-footed reptiloids tormenting
slow-moving Vssey sprang unbidden into Flinx’s mind. It was not a pleasant picture, and he could
only hope that the reality on Jast and the relationship between the two species were more amenable
than his imaginings.
“Certainly so,” the ship readily agreed. “Podal agility is likely not to be accounted among the foremost
abilities of the Vssey. Like any intelligent species confronted with an inherent physiological
impediment, I am sure they have found ways and means to compensate. For one thing, they are asexual
and reproduce by budding. Not having to search for a mate greatly reduces the need to move about
repeatedly and rapidly, with concurrent consequences for related evolutionary development.”
“No doubt,” agreed Flinx more somberly, losing the smile. “Tentacles—or those tentacles—don’t look
very strong.”
“They apparently are not,” the ship agreed. “However, they must be adequate to the shaping of an
advanced civilization, which the Vssey have done. And there are many of them. Perhaps forty or fifty
weak fingers are the equal, or even the superior, to ten stronger ones. Or to sixteen, in the case of the
thranx.”
“They must be descended from an ancestor that was originally permanently sedentary.” Flinx was
taken with the possibilities of the Vssey body design. “Like Terran anemones.”
“Perhaps. The information I have on the species does not extend to details of their racial pedigree.”
Flinx leaned back in the lounge and continued to study the image of the Vssey as the recording ran
through to its conclusion. When it began to loop, he waved it away.
“Your description of Jast doesn’t sound very inviting. I don’t much care for dry places. As you know,
during our recent visit to Pyrassis I ‘enjoyed’ more than enough forced desert sightseeing to last me a
long, long time. Not to mention a similar experience years ago on Moth, in the company of an old
reprobate named Knigta Yakus.” His tone softened. “But the Vssey— they intrigue me. One might
almost call them charming.”
“That is not a biologically accurate categorization,” said the ship in a voice that was mildly reproving.
“I know. It’s a silly subjective human categorization. One I think happens to fit the sentients under
discussion.” He waved a hand grandly. “Set course for this Jast. I’m taking your advice, ship. I’m
going to make a strenuous attempt to unwind among the mushrooms.”
“Strenuous and unwind should not be used tangentially in the context of a proposed vacation, Flinx, as
the meaning and intent of one seriously contravenes the meaning and intent of the other. And the
Vssey are not taxonomically related to any individual family of the fungi, irrespective of—”
“Ship?”
“Yes, Flinx.”
“Shut up and navigate.”
As always, the Teacher complied. If it felt disrespected by the abruptness of its master’s command, it
kept any such reaction entirely to itself. Besides, Flinx had taken its advice, both as to what to do next
and where to carry out the doing of it.
No more than that could an AI ask for.
Chapter Two
Takuuna VBXLLW didn’t particularly want to kill the two Vssey juveniles. But he did not particularly
mind the prospect of doing so, either. It was not as if his schedule was full. As it was, his duties as a
secondary administrator for the outer Vsseyan provinces of Qwal-Dihn and Tual-Sihb left him too
much time to think. Too much time to dwell on the dead-end nature of both his assignment and his life.
Still young and adventurous, like any ambitious AAnn adult he desperately wished for an opportunity
to present itself that would allow for substantial personal advancement. Only then could he change his
name to Takuuna VBXLL and hope to ascend within the formal hierarchy that was the Empire.
Jast was not the sort of place, nor his assignment the kind of work, where one was likely to encounter
such a ready prospect. This was a drawback he shared in common with millions of his fellow nye. As
he was only concerned for himself, he did not reflect on the fact that behind the AAnn Empire’s
continued steady expansion stood this collective racial impatience that was reflected in every
individual’s desire to get ahead. Executing the two miserable young Vssey would likely neither
advance nor slow his personal progress. It was just part of the job.
Letting out a soft hiss of resignation, he glanced skyward. The choluub were already ascending. Small,
limbless nocturnal grazers on Jast’s surprisingly luxuriant and varied desert flora, they ate and
defecated pretty much where they lay. In addition to eating, they spent the night regenerating
membranous sacs from a special organ on their slightly humped backs. As a by-product of their
consumption of Jast’s nourishing plant life, they produced methane gas. Instead of voiding it anally,
the gas was diverted inside the choluub’s body to the freshly extruded membrane, slowly filling it.
As the sun rose, it heated the gas inside the membranes. Now, hundreds of sleepy choluub, elevated by
these slowly expanding balloons, were rising into the air from the surrounding terrain. In contrast to
the dull brown and dark green bodies of the choluub themselves, the transparent membranes that
provided their lift were strikingly iridescent. All around the open courtyard of the local AAnn
administrative compound, hundreds of glistening, multihued bubbles were rising majestically skyward.
After filling their bellies during the night, the hovering choluub would rest and travel with the wind.
By late afternoon they would begin to vent gas and sink slowly surfaceward, to gently touch down
anew in fresh grazing grounds.
It was a process of aerial wandering that took place every day across much of the planet. Many other
species—some larger, some smaller, some day-sleepers like the choluub, others diurnal, and a few who
were unabashedly carnivorous—utilized similar methods of locomotion to get around without the need
for legs or tentacles, wings or fins. Furthermore, migrating to new feeding grounds while asleep was
highly efficient, a fine way to conserve energy.
Srrsstt! Everything on this world moves slowly, Takuuna growled to himself. In a naturally sluggish
environment, the Vssey had distinguished themselves not only by developing intelligence, but also by
evolving a method of comparatively rapid locomotion. But only comparatively. Any healthy AAnn,
even one aged and sloughing scales, could beat the fastest Vsseyan sprinter, and probably do it while
running backwards. The minds of the stolid Vssey, however, were as sharp as those of any other
sentient—which left them, like everyone else, the administrator knew, at least one cut below the
average AAnn.
A sudden warm downdraft threatened to fill the elegant parquet courtyard with its tinkling fountain and
摘要：

Flinx10–SlidingScalesAlanDeanFosterChapterOneIamindangerofbecomingpermanently,irrevocably,andunrescuablymoody,Flinxfoundhimselfthinking.Heknewunrescuablywasn’taword,butthemangledsyntaxfithismelancholicstateofmind.ForcedtoleaveabadlyinjuredClarityHeldbehindonNewRivierainthecareofBranTse-MalloryandTru...

展开>> 收起<<
Alan Dean Foster - Flinx 10 - Sliding Scales.pdf

共107页,预览6页

还剩页未读， 继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

相关推荐

更多
立即下载
分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：107 页 大小：495.63KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-08

开通VIP享超值会员特权

  • 多端同步记录
  • 高速下载文档
  • 免费文档工具
  • 分享文档赚钱
  • 每日登录抽奖
  • 优质衍生服务

作者详情

相关内容

更多

热门标签

人际关系 动力学连接体 力的合成 配电装置 高考理综 全宋诗作者索引 公务员考试
/ 107
评分 收藏
分享
立即下载 VIP免费下载
客服
关注