Foster, Alan Dean - Flinx 7 - Bloodhype
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******************************************************
Author: Alan Dean Foster
Title: Bloodhype
Original copyright year: 1973
Genre: Science Fiction
******************************************************
By Alan Dean Foster : Published by Ballantine Books:
The Icenggger Trilogy
ICERIGGER
MISSION TO MOULOKIN
THE DELUGE DRIVERS
The Adventures of Flinx of the Commonwealth
FOR LOVE OF MOTHER?NOT
THE TAR?AIYM KRANG
ORPHAN STAR
THE END OF THE MATTER
FLINX IN FLUX
MID?FLINX
BLOODHYPE
THE HOWLING STONES
The Damned
Book One: A CALL TO ARMS
Book Two: THE FALSE MIRROR
Book Three: THE SPOILS OF WAR
THE BLACK HOLE CACHALOT
DARK STAR THE METROGNOME and Other Stories
MIDWORLD NOR CRYSTALTEARS
SENTENCED TO PRISM SPLINTER OF THE MIND'S
EYE
STAR TREK@ LOGS ONE?TEN VOYAGE TO THE CITY
OF THE DEAD
WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . . . ... WHO NEEDS
ENEMIES?
MAD AMOS PARALLELITIES*
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'forthcoming
Books published by The Ballantine Publishing Group are available at
quantity discounts on bulk purchases for premium, educational,
fund?raising, and special sales use. For details, please call
1?500?733?3000.
******************************************************
A Del Rey Book
Published by Ballantine Books
Copyright © 1973 by Alan Dean Foster
All rights reserved under International and Pan?American Copyright
Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, a division
of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random
House of Canada, Limited, Toronto, Canada.
ISBN 0?345?31021?7
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition: March 1973
Eighth Printing: May 1984
Cover art by Darrell K. Sweet
******************************************************
For
Lynette Harrington
who lives around the corner
******************************************************
I eat, therefore I am.
Such was the extent of the Vom's consciousness.
This had not always been so, but at the moment there was no way the Vom
could become aware of it. The mechanical process of remembering required
energy the Vent did not have to spare. All of the tiny amount of radiant
energy from the system's sun that the Vom could convert was needed to
preserve the life?sense.
To do this the Vom had assumed a special configuration. At present it
varied in thickness from a few millimeters to several microns. It had done
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this out of necessity, millennia ago. How many millennia? The Vom did not
know or remember.
It couldn't spare the energy.
The system hadn't always been dead. At one time this planet had harbored a
modestly successful ecosystem: plants and animals from the one?celled to
the very complex; vertebrates, invertebrates, things warm? and coldblooded,
gymnosperms, fungi, lichens, fliers, burrowers, crawlers, runners and
swimmers. It was ruled by an undistinguished if moderately intelligent
race. It had begun to die when the Vom arrived.
As to the method of arrival, the Vom could recall neither when nor how.
Dimly it could remember a state of former greatness, of which its present
self was less than a shadow. In that state it had dominated a thousand
systems.
Arriving in this one, it had toyed with the local dominants. Its persistent
and strenuous attempts at achieving mental assimilation with another
life?form failed, as it had failed a hundred thousand times before. That
didn't keep the Vom from trying.
The race resisted with violence. It was consumed. The planet was rich in
life?force of more primitive kind. Having absorbed that of the most
intelligent beings, the Vom began on those less so. It worked its voracious
way slowly through the ecosystem, down through the simple plants and fungi
and even to the bacteria and viroids. The Vom was frighteningly efficient.
It ate until the globe was scoured clean, clean. Then nothing moved on its
surface or in its seas except wind, water, and the Vom.
Sated, the Vom rested for a long time. Then, using its always successful
ploy of contacting another intelligent race and taking control of the
curious vessels that would come to investigate, it broadcast into the space
around it. Once carried by unwilling servitors to a new planet, it would
begin the cycle of feeding anew.
But this time the Vom had waited too long. The race it contacted came, but
they were strong?stronger than any the Vom had ever encountered. Its mental
control wavered. For the first time in its well?ordered existence, the Vom
panicked. It destroyed all aboard the approaching ships. A fatal error. The
race was made aware of the true nature of the horror that had contacted it.
The next time, it sent robot warships with a single prepared Guardian. One
of their most powerful and capable minds, the Guardian was not understood
even by its own kind. The Vom now tried to attract the ships of another
species, but space?going races were scarce in this section of the galaxy.
Those few who did send ships were warned away or destroyed by the robot
watchers. As its stored energy was drained by these efforts the Vom grew
progressively weaker, shrinking in power and ability. No longer necessary,
many of the robot warships were recalled by their builders. There was a
great war with another race tormenting the center of the galaxy.
Almost, the Vom escaped. A wild photonic storm tore through that section of
space. The few remaining robot controls were incapacitated. Even the
Guardian itself was weakened. The Vom drew some strength from the strange
life?forms that rode the storm, but .... not enough. In utter terror the
Vom discovered that every space?going race within its reduced sphere of
influence had died off or perished in the storm. Its mental collapse was
hastened by hopelessness.
Now the Vom had plenty of time to reflect on its mistakes. It had used the
planet too thoroughly, scoured it too clean of life. The system had been
over employed. Enough should have been left to reproduce and maintain a
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reasonable ecosystem, for just such an emergency. But the Vom had glutted
itself thoroughly. Not a living cell had existed on the planet for a
thousand years. Great as it was, it could not create life.
So, one by one, the higher functions were shut down, lost, as the great
organic factory that was the Vom ran down, until only the barest flicker of
life remained.
One day?the Vom knew it was day because of the presence of solar energy?a
ship came down. It was not a large ship, being midway between courier and
destroyer classification. But it was quite well armed and very functional,
as were all the ships of the AAnn.
By rights the reptiles had no business in this part of space, on the
fringes of the Humanx Commonwealth. The immensity of nothingness, however,
made an excellent hiding place. Occasionally, daring scouts penetrated the
humanx patrol cordon in search of unexplored systems possessed of
exploitable resources?and sometimes on even less savory missions.
They nosed around, nowtimes finding something, nowtimes running afoul of a
Church patrol (and then there would be empty places in many nests), rarely
discovering something. All traveled without Empire sanction. Since by
treaty with the Commonwealth this was prohibited, all such activities were
of course quite illegal. However, since goods not traded for on a legal
footing were exempt from taxation, the rewards for the AAnn businessman who
backed a successful incursion were often enormous. In this respect the
Emperor indirectly condoned such actions.
Rockets flared at the base of the small vessel. Being a scout, it was
expected to have to land on planets not equipped with shuttle facilities.
This was as expensive as it was necessary. Naturally, it could not land on
interstellar drive (the AAnn equivalent of the advanced humanx KK drive
propulsive system). The gigantic artificial mass generated by a KK or
similar drive system could not impinge on the real mass of a planetary
surface without something giving. Matter caught in such a manner invariably
reacted. Violently. So ships used advanced shuttle?vessels to transfer
passengers and goods from the surface to orbiting ships. A scout could, in
effect, become its own shuttle.
The vessel set down close by the southern edge of the Vom. That section of
the creature reveled in the sudden, unexpected surge of radiant energy.
Within the metal capsule that rode the column of energy it sensed far
stronger forces in the form of clean life?force. Almost, it reached out for
them. Then a feeble spark of thought overrode primal instincts.
Not yet! Not yet! Patience! Besides, there was a more urgent need for the
surprise gift of energy.
The Vom began to wake itself up.
Navigator?First Paayton RPHGLM was chewing reflectively on his tail,
staring out the port of the captain's cabin. He spoke without turning.
"Well, Exalted Captain, I have surely never seen anything like it!" The
bright red pupils were unblinking.
Exalted Captain Laccota SIFD scratched his belly where two of his ventral
plates joined and turned to his principal scientific advisor. "Well,
Carmot, this is where you start earning the credits Lord Ilogia? his scales
be thrice-blessed! ?has been paying you. You've sat on your tail for four
time?lengths while we've sweated dodging humanx sting?ships."
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Cannot MMYM was shorter than the other two. In fact, he was the shortest
lizard on the ship. Externally he was rather a foppish specimen, addicted
to brightly colored body harness and (to the captain's mind) the decadent
habit of dyeing his incisors pink. A million years ago he would have been a
quick meal for an attacking tribe. Today, however, intelligence counted for
more than fang and claw. He possessed a sharp mind, excellent recall, and
was as devious as anyone else on board. Personally, Exalted Captain Laccota
disliked him. Professionally, he held him in high esteem.
"I don't like it," said the Observer?First finally.
"You are not paid to like or dislike anything," offered Laccota patiently.
"With the best will in the world, I remind you that you are paid only to
estimate any potential profit in whatever we may turn up. We have
definitely turned up something, here in this egg?forsaken system."
"I reiterate; I don't like it! I don't understand this at all, and I don't
like what I can't understand."
"An attitude shared by many," said Laccota. "Tell us what we have here,
Observer?most?competent?and?overpaid, and I will like it or dislike it for
you."
"Very well, Exalted?flier?of?ships?by?the-tip-of?his?tail." Carmot nibbled
idly on a claw. "When Observer?Fifth Plowlok first brought it to my
attention, as we proceeded with our standard survey orbit, my initial
reaction was the mental composition of a severe reprimand. Being young,
Observer?Fifth Plowlok SFDVIUTVB has the usual tendency of young explorers
to draw fanciful rather than objective readings from strictly prosaic
instrumentation. This time, however, he was full accurate."
Cannot stopped chewing and waved in the direction of the glassalloy port.
"We have out there, gentlesirs, an organic impossibility. An area of total
living blackness that follows the contours of the land, every dip and rise,
at a paper?thinness for several thousand square cluvits. Absurd, of cause.
There is nothing else like it anywhere on the planet. Nor, I venture to
hypothesize, in this system. It is unique. It is utterly remarkable. It is
impossible ...
"Properties, geatlesirs, properties! It is not harmed or visibly affected
by any kind of radiation we can generate. possibly more sophisticated
devices will be able to?I don't know. Nor is the energy so directed
reflected. It simply disappears, as measurements of the underlying basalt
seem to indicate. Somehow, in the space of a mere section or two of itself,
it absorbs all radiation or otherwise removes it from the understandable
physical universe . . .
"Two days ago First?Geologist Onidd CRCRS and I left the ship to perform
what we innocently believed would be the simple task of removing a few
samples of tire thing for analytical purposes."
"Didn't have much luck, did you?" murmured Navigator Paayton still chewing
on his tail and staring out the port.
"Hardly," said Carmot drily. "When I first attempted to touch it, it drew
away from my fingers. I believe my sense of surprise was rather
peremptorily expressed over the communit."
"Your command of the invective was something of a surprise," admitted
Laccota.
"Um. Yes. After several similar attempts at different spots along its
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border failed, I walked off and took a long run at the thing. The lower
gravity made such an idea seem feasible. It retreated completely, with
incredible swiftness, just before my boots made contact with its surface...
"Geologist Onidd observed that it was noticeably thicker around its new
edge. Therefore we established that it was folding back on itself and not
perfuming some mystifying vanishing act. Onidd then removed his beamer and
attempted to cut a piece from the main body. The results were
enlightening..
"While it had retreated precipitately from physical contact, it made no
effort to dodge the lethal beamer. Onidd concentrated his beam on one thin
spot for several time. parts. No effect was observed. The thing did not
cut, bum, smoke, or otherwise take notice of a sharp?focus beamer that can
cut through most metals and heat armor?plate red?hot. I then joined the
efforts of my own beamer to Onidd's. We might as well have been beaming at
the sun...
"Now, as to the problem of its aliveness, about which there has been some
question. If it is alive, it is a totally alien sort of aliveness that
permits itself to be energy beamed at close range yet refuses to allow a
mere touch from a living being."
"Your conclusions," prompted Laccota impatiently.
"Even so, I believe it lives. It may draw sustenance from the sun, although
I find no evidence of a photosynthesis?type reaction, and certainly no sign
of chlorophyll. I do not see how else it can draw food. The basalt revealed
when it drew back from us has been minutely examined. It exhibits no
abnormalities and is in no way different from untouched samples taken
elsewhere. I still will not attempt to say whether it is more animal than
vegetable. It may, indeed, be neither."
"And your recommendations?" Laccota asked.
Carmod stood quietly for a long moment. "Raise ship and traverse parsecs as
fast as this antiquated tub will go.”
The captain's transparent nictitating eye membranes flickered. Even Paayton
was sufficiently stimulated to turn from his extended contemplation of the
outside.
"Indeed," murmured the captain. "And your reasoning?"
Cannot said simply, "I have a feeling."
"Really! You have a feeling. My, my. Shell of females, an interesting entry
to make in the log. Lord Ilogia will be most understanding and sympathetic.
You `have a feeling.' Rejected. First alternate proposal"
Carmot sighed?along, hissing sound, like a steam engine running down. "Tie
into the nearest intersystem relay. Use long band. Break in if you have to.
Contact the nearest planet where we have landing privileges?it will be
humanx controlled, of course...”
Laccota looked to the navigator. "Is there an appropriate place?"
Paayton's computer?trap mind turned businesslike. "Umm. The humanx Outpost
colony world of Repler might be . . . yes, I foresee no problems. A
sparsely populated world, much of it still in the wild state, with a
largely urban population and a considerable tourist trade. The largest
shuttle station is very modern, but not equipped to handle much in the way
of a naval force. No orbiting naval station. We have a fair?sized
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diplomatic mission there, with plenty of privacy and room. 'The weather is
miserable, but most of the station is underground, naturally. It should be
adequate."
"Contact them," continued Carmot. "Tell them we want the biggest freighter
in the sector, along with five or six of the largest shuttles, two of which
must be max?class, and about twenty miles of flexible harmony plating, with
plenty of tow cable. Operators for all, of course. Also, at least one
large, high?intensity beamer?it needn't be military; industrial strength
should do fine. One that can provide a steady output without burning out
every other time?length. Tell them to bring replacement parts, just in
case."
"You plan to transport the thing, then?"
"If we can induce it to assume manageable proportions, yes. Prom
hindsight?clever Paayton's description of the station we have at this
Repler place, we should have facilities which can at least be expanded to
provide a place where this thing can be properly handled and analyzed."
"Won't that be rather risky?" put in Paayton "Attempting to work in secret
right under the sensors of the humans and thranx?”
"Quite likely," replied Carmot. "However, until we know a great deal more
about it, I do not wish this thing trans?shipped to a nesting planet It is
an unknown quantity of awesome possibilities."
"Another feeling?" said Laccata.
"That as well. I am suspicious of anything that can survive on several
thousand cluvits of bare rock, on a planet on which nothing else lives, yet
clearly could support other life. I'm suspicious of anything organic that's
thinner in places than my claw?tips, yet can take the continuous
application of high?intensity beaming. Yes, another feeling,"
"Your imaginings begin to approach those you ascribe to your fifth?grade
assistants, Observer. Still, I see no reason to deny any of your requests.
I'll leave that to higher authority."
"I think that's very just of you, Exalted Captain. And very wise."
The Vom had restored facilities sufficient to assess the beings who had
happened upon it. The minds were simple, yet far from primitive. In its
weakened state the Vom doubted its ability to control even a single one of
the species, let alone the shipful. Now was the time to move, oh, so very
carefully!
P?a?t?i?e?n?c?e. It had waited half a million years now, give of take a few
millennia. It was aware of itself, and that gave it strength.
It could wait a few days more.
Russ Kingsley was in the mood for it.
And when Russ Kingsley was in the mood for it, he usually made out quite
well. First oft he was almost classically handsome. He knew he was. It said
so on his guarantee from the cosmeticians. They'd done an excellent job. It
was one that few folk could afford. Kingsley's father, who was one of the
five richest men on Repler, had given Russ the new face for his eighteenth
birthday.
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He was satisfied with his present 180 cms, although he wished the surgeons
could have added another 10 or so. Still, no need to be greedy. The face
was perfectly proportioned?inclined plane of a jaw, no?nonsense nose
sensuous thin lips, red hair with just the right amount of casual wave. He
cut an exotic figure in sea?green foxfire fur vest over matching turquoise
silks. His appearance was as good as money could buy. As good, he
reflected, as any tridee star.
Honed in Repler's most exclusive gyms the body was muscular without running
to extremes. Though his appetite for gourmet meals kept the physiological
techs at constant war with an incipient pot.
A pity they hadn't been able to do anything with his personality.
At the moment he was lolling in the main debarkation lounge of Replerport,
eyeing the recent off?planet arrivals. A ventilator pulled the smoke from
the Jimson Kelp in his pipe roofward.
Kingsley was a chap who liked variety. He'd already gone through most of
the country beauties in Repler City. Some willingly, when his looks and
money served; some unwillingly, where his father's name served.
The back?country types held little attraction for him. Too much trouble
attendant to bouncing from small town to small town. And the food! Ghastly!
Besides, the backwoodsmen were too remote to be impressed by the Kingsley
name. They were apt to shoot despite thundering threats of retribution.
The passengers off the first ship had been disappointing. Thus far, the
second hadn't provided anything better, with the possible exception of that
blonde stew. Well, better than nothing. He felt in his jacket pocket to
make sure the slip of paper with the number on it was still there.
A flash of color near the end of the first?class line caught his eye. He
straightened, smiling. Well now, this was more like it!
The girl had paused at the gate to talk to the debarkation officer. That's
why he hadn't spotted her till now. An off?planet citizen, obviously. Even
better.
She was dressed in a bright yellow jumpsuit that clung to her like lemon
icing. A simple band of some silvery metal on one wrist was the only
jewelry. Not that a ring would have made a difference to Kingsley, but he
preferred things simple to complex. A dun?colored bag was fabricatched to
her right thigh. Jet?black hair was gathered together by a yellow band. It
fell in a single thick braid to just above her waist where it was held in
place by another band and knotted. Kingsley pursed his lips disapprovingly.
Minoan had gone out months ago.
Eyes deep blue complexion deep tan, little makeup. The eyes were sharply
slanted, cheekbones high and prominent. At lease half chinee or mongolian
ancestry, he thought. What he could see of the body was exquisitely
proportioned, if not voluptuous. It deviated from the perpendicular in all
the appropriate places.
The only thing that made him a little uncomfortable was that she appeared
to stand a good five centimeters taller than he. He left the counter and
moved to intercept her as she headed for the public transport park.
Subtlety was not Kingsley's forte. He grinned his best grin, every bicuspid
and molar perfect (he had guarantees for that, too), and said, "Hello,
stranger!"
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The gaze she offered in return was faintly amused, otherwise noncommittal.
"Hello yourself, native." The voice was a husky soprano, with just a trace
of terran accent.
Better and better! Everyone knew about terran girls, didn't they?
"Russell Kingsley, but you can call me Russ. Can I give you a lift? My
rates are reasonable."
"Kitten Kai?sung. Sure. Are you passing anywhere near the ..." she paused,
"the Green Island Hostelry?"
"Green Island." (Not filthy rich, but well?off?not that it mattered much.)
"I am now. Got any luggage?"
"It's being delivered."
"Well, then. Come along!" He tried to put an arm across her shoulders. She
shrugged it off.
Uppity bitch, he thought. He'd change that quickly enough, as soon as he
got her back to the Tower.
His hoveraft was a Phaeton Mark IV, the latest. He was just a bit put off
when she didn't acknowledge the gleaming hunk of machinery. Not even a
little oooh! or mad Let her play it cool, then. He'd change that, too.
As soon as he was sure all doors were secure, he grinned the powerful
engine and blasted away from the station, scattering grit and sand over
several pedestrians.
The cloud cover was still fairly heavy, the air typically warm and damp.
Now and then a light mist would not so much fall as simply appear in the
air. Wood was utilized to a great extent on Repler, not only because the
planet was blessed with tremendous softwood jungles, but because wood had a
natural advantage over many metals. It wouldn't rust.
"You plan to be with us long?"
"Depends. My time is flexible."
"Business?"
"Very little. Vacation, mostly."
"Wise decision. Pleasure before business, I always say:" He made a hard
left and swung out of the downtown section, heading towards the harbor.
She didn't say anything for several minutes, hot did take a long look out
the back of the plastic bubble cabin. Getting a little worried, luv?
"The Tower's only an hour off," he said easily. "We've got our own island.
Not so extraordinary when you consider that Replay is mostly islands, with
very few open oceans; but Wetplace is unusual."
"Tower? Wetplace? We're supposed to be going to the Green Island Hostelry."
"Only theoretically, luv. Take my word for it, you'll prefer the Tower.
It's got some interesting extras that would startle the management of a
common tourist trap like the Green Island. Magnificent view from the top,
and the privacy can't be beat. Can't even be broken, in fact" He giggled
(that was one thing the cosmeticians hadn't been able to correct). "Oh,
everyone who visits the Tower enjoys it!"
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file:///F|/rah/Alan%20Dean%20Foster/Foster,%20Alan%20Dean%20-%20Flinx%207%20-%20Bloodhype.txt******************************************************Author:AlanDeanFosterTitle:BloodhypeOriginalcopyrightyear:1973Genre:ScienceFiction******************************************************ByAlanDeanFoster...
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时间：2025-03-03
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