The Tar-aiym Krang (Adventures of Pip and Flinx) Page 6

  “Agggh!” He raised a hand the size of a ham. “I . . . strongly . . . suggest . . . that you . . .!” She skittered by the descending hand and sped for the exit. The look she sent Flinx on the way out was brief, but hot enough to melt duralloy. Malaika caught his breath and seemed to calm himself somewhat.

  “How much of what she heard did you hear?”

  Flinx lied. In the situation he considered it more than ethical. “Enough.”

  “So, so!” The merchant considered. “Well, perhaps it will work out for the better. You’ll probably turn out to be the sharpest one aboard, lad, but I’d stay clear of Atha for awhile. I’m afraid your method of making first greetings will never replace shaking hands!” He shook with laughter at his own witticism. He put out an arm as if to embrace Flinx’s shoulders, drew it back hastily at a warning gesture from Pip.

  “She works for you?” It was a rhetorical question. But Flinx was curious to know what position the girl held that could inspire such trust on Malaika’s part that he could treat her as he had without fear of reprisal.

  “Atha? Oh yes.” He looked in the direction taken by the girl. “You wouldn’t think a mwanamke that ferocious would have the patience to make starship copilot at her age, would you? She’s been with me in that capacity for six years now.”

  Flinx resumed his former position on the floor. In reply to Tse-Mallory’s inquiring gaze, Malaika said, “I’ve decided that our young friend will accompany us on the journey. I know what I’m doing, gentlesirs. If the trip is long and tedious he will provide relief for us, and he’s sharp as a whip besides. He also has some peculiar abilities which might prove useful to us, despite their capriciousness. It is a subject to which I have meant to give more attention in the past, but have never found the time.” Flinx glanced up interestedly, but could detect nothing beyond the merchant’s veneer of surface geniality. “In any case, he is too poor and not rich enough to pose a threat to us. And I believe him to be disgustingly honest. Although he has had ample opportunity to steal from my house he has never done so . . . as far as I know.”

  “His honesty was never in question,” said Truzenzuzex. “I’ve no objection to the lad’s presence.”

  “Nor I,” added Tse-Mallory.

  “Then, sociologist, if you would continue with your narrative?”

  “Actually, there is not much that is new to tell. Would that there were. As you might know my companion and I gave up our respective careers and regular pursuits some twelve odd years ago to research jointly the history and civilization of the Tar-Aiym.”

  “Some talk of your work has filtered down to my level, yes. Do continue. Naturally I am interested in anything that has to do with the Tar-Aiym . . . or their works.”

  “So much we—naturally—supposed.”

  “Pardon, sir,” interrupted Flinx. “I know of the Tar-Aiym, of course, but only by rumor and book. Could you maybe tell me more, please?” He looked properly apologetic.

  Since Malaika offered no objection, perhaps himself not considering such information redundant, Tse-Mallory agreed.

  “All right then, lad.” He took another long swig of his drink. “As near as we have been able to determine, some 500,000 Terran-standard years ago this area of the galaxy was, as it is now, occupied by a large number of diverse and highly intelligent races. The Tar-Aiym were by far the strongest of these. Most of their time and effort was apparently absorbed in warring with their less powerful neighbors, as much for the pleasure of it, it seems, as for the wealth it brought them. At one time the Tar-Aiym empire covered this section of space to a depth of four quadrants and a width of at least two. Maybe more.

  “Any reason we could put forth to explain the total disappearance of the Tar-Aiym and most of their subject races would be mostly conjecture. But working painstakingly with bits and pieces of myth and rumor, and a very few solidly documented facts, researchers have put together one explanation that seems to offer more than most.

  “At the height of their power the Tar-Aiym came across a more primitive race far in toward the galactic center. This race was not quite the intellectual equal of the Tar-Aiym, and they’d had star travel for only a short time. But they were tremendously tenacious and multiplied at an extraordinary rate. They resisted, successfully, every effort to be forced into the Tar-Aiym hegemony. In fact, under the impetus provided by Tar-Aiym pressures, they began to make giant strides forward and to spread rapidly to other systems.

  “Apparently the Tar-Aiym leadership did a most uncharacteristic thing. It panicked. They directed their war scientists to develop new and even more radical types of weaponry to combat this supposed new menace from the center. True to form, their great laboratories soon came up with several offerings. The one that was finally implemented was a form of mutated bacterium. It multiplied at a phenomenal rate, living off itself if no other host was available. To any creature with a nervous system more complex than that of the higher invertebrates it was completely and irrevocably lethal.

  “The story from there,” continued Truzenzuzex, “is a simple and straightforward one. The plague worked as the leadership had hoped, to the extent of utterly wiping out the Tar-Aiym enemies. It also set about totally eliminating the Tar-Aiym themselves and most of the intelligent and semi-intelligent life in that huge sector of space we know today as the Blight. You know it, Flinx?”

  “Sure. It’s a big section between here and the center. Hundreds of worlds on which nothing intelligent lives. They’ll be filled again someday.”

  “No doubt. For now, though, they are filled only with the lower animals and the wreckage of past civilizations. Fortunately the surviving space-traversing worlds were informed of the nature of the plague by the last remnants of the dying Tar-Aiym. A strict quarantine must have been put into effect, because for centuries it appears that nothing was permitted in or out of the Blight. Otherwise it is probable that none of us would be sitting here now. It is only in recent times that the systems of the Blight have been rediscovered and somewhat hesitantly explored.”

  “The taboo lingers even if the reason behind it has gone,” said Malaika quietly.

  “Yes. Well, some of the quarantined races on the fringe of the epidemic died out rather slowly. By means of interspace relay or some similar device they managed to pass out some threads of fact describing the Armaggedon. Innocent and guilty alike died as the plague burned itself out. Thank Hive that all traces of the germ have long since departed the cycle of things!”

  “Amen,” murmured Malaika surprisingly. Then, louder, “But please, gentlesirs, to the point. And the point is—credit”

  Tse-Mallory took over again. “Malaika, have you ever heard of the Krang?”

  “Nini? No, I . . . no, wait a minute.” The trader’s thick brows furrowed in thought. “Yes. Yes, I believe I have. It forms part of the mythology of the, uh, the Branner folk, doesn’t it?”

  Tse-Mallory nodded approval. “That’s right. The Branner, as you may or may not recall, occupy three star systems on the periphery of the Blight, facing Moth. According to a folk-legend of theirs passed down from the cataclysm, even though the Tar-Aiym were hard pressed to find a solution to the threat from the center, they had not yet given up all forms of nonmilitary development and experimentation. As we now know for a fact, the Tar-Aiym were inordinately fond of music.”

  “Marches, no doubt,” murmured Truzenzuzex.

  “Perhaps. Anyway, one of the last great works of artistic merit that their culture was supposed to have produced was a great musical instrument called the Krang. It was theoretically completed in the waning days of the Empire, just as the plague was beginning to make itself known on Empire planets as well as those of the enemy.”

  “Ili?” said Malaika. “So?”

  “On the side of the Blight almost one hundred and fifty parsecs from Branner lies the home world of a primitive race of hominids, little visited by the rest of the galaxy. They are far off the main trade routes and have little to offer in the way of
value, either in produce or culture. They are pleasant, pastoral, and nonaggressive. Seemingly they once possessed star travel, but sank back into a preatomic civilization and are only just now beginning to show signs of a scientific renaissance. Interestingly enough, they also have a legend concerning something called the Krang. Only in their version it is not an artistic device, but a weapon of war. One which the Tar-Aiym scientists were developing parallel with the plague, before the latter was put into widespread use. According to the legend it was intended to be primarily a defensive and not an offensive weapon. If so, it would be the first time in the literature that the Tar-Aiym had been reduced to building a device for defensive purposes. This runs contrary to all we know of Tar-Aiym psychology and shows how severely they believed themselves pressed by their new enemy.”

  “Fascinating dichotomy,” said Malaika. “And you have some indication as to where this weapon or lute or whatever might be? If either, it would be very valuable in Commonwealth markets.”

  “True, though we are only interested in its scientific and cultural properties.”

  “Of course, of course! While my accountants are estimating its net worth, you can draw theoretical rationalizations from its guts to your heart’s content . . . provided that you remember how to put its pieces back together again. Now just where is this enigmatic little treasure trove, eh?” He leaned forward eagerly.

  “Well, we know exactly, almost,” said Tse-Mallory.

  “Exactly? Almost? My weak mind again, gentlesirs. Forgive me, but I profess lack of comprehension.”

  Truzenzuzex made a very human-sounding sigh. Air made a soft whoosh! as it was forced out the breathing spicules of his b-thorax.

  “The planet on which the Krang is supposedly located was discovered accidentally nearly a t-year ago by a prospector working independently in the Blight. He was hunting for heavy metals, and he found them. Only they weren’t arranged in the ground the way he’d expected.”

  “This fellow, he must have had sponsors,” said Malaika. “Why didn’t he take this information to them?”

  “The man owed a very great debt to my ship-brother. He knew of his interest in Tar-Aiym relics. Supplying Bran with this information was his way of paying off the debt. It was of a personal nature and going into it here can serve no purpose. It would have been a more than equitable reimbursement.”

  “Would have been?” Malaika’s humor was degenerating visibly into irritation. “Come, come, gentlesirs, all this subtle evasion makes my mind sleepy and shortens my patience.”

  “No evasion intended, merchant. The man was to have met us in our rooms in the market section of the city, bringing with him a star map listing complete coordinates for the planet. As we had previously agreed on you as a likely sponsor, the three of us were then to proceed on to this house. When he did not arrive as scheduled we decided after some deliberation to seek you out anyway, in the hope that with your resources you might discover some hint as to his whereabouts. In any case, it would have been difficult to maintain our independence much longer. Despite our best efforts, we do not look like tourists. Enterprising persons had already begun asking awkward questions.”

  “I will—” began Malaika, but Flinx interrupted.

  “Did your friend by any chance have red hair?”

  Tse-Mallory jerked around violently. For a second Flinx had a glimpse into something terrifying and bloody, which until now the sociologist had kept well buried beneath a placid exterior. It faded as rapidly as it had appeared, but a hint of it persisted in the crisp, military tones of the sociologist’s voice.

  “How did you know that?”

  Flinx pulled the crumpled piece of plastic from his pocket and handed it to an astounded Truzenzuzex. Tse-Mallory recovered himself and glanced at the unfolded sheet. Flinx continued unperturbed.

  “I have a hunch that’s your star map. I was on my way to Small Symm’s establishment when my attention was caught by a commotion in an alleyway. Ordinarily I would have ignored it. That is the way one lives in Drallar, if one wishes to live long. But for reasons unknown and thrice cursed my pet,” he gestured at Pip, “got curious, and took it into his head to investigate. The occupants of the alley took exception to his presence. An unfunny fight was in progress, and in the situation which developed the only argument I had was my knife.”

  “Your friend had been attacked by two men. Professionals by their looks and actions. They weren’t very good ones. I killed one, and Pip finished the other. Your friend was already dead. I’m sorry.” He did not mention his earlier encounter with the three.

  Tse-Mallory was looking from the map to Flinx. “Well, it was said before that it was a fortuitous circumstance that brought you to our notice, Now it appears to have been doubly so.”

  He was interrupted by an intent Malaika, who snatched up the map and moved over to where a flexilamp was poised. Positioning the powerful beam he began to study the lines and symbols on the plastic with great deliberation. Dust motes danced drunken spirals in the subdued light.

  “A most unusual and versatile pet,” commented Truzenzuzex idly. “I’ve heard of them. The mortality rate from their venom is notoriously high, giving them a reputation all out of proportion to their numbers and disposition. Fortunately, as I understand it, they do not seem to attack without due provocation.”

  “That’s right, sir” said Flinx, scratching the object under discussion on the side of its narrow head. “A ship’s physician at the shuttleport once told me he’d met a scientist who’d actually been to Alaspin. The minidrag is native to there, you know. In his spare time, the man had done some limited research on them.

  “He said they seemed standoffish, which struck me as kind of a funny way to describe a poisonous reptile. But harmless unless, as you said, provoked. Pip was already pretty tame when I found him. At least, I’ve never had any trouble with him. The people in my area have learned to tolerate him, mostly because they haven’t any choice.”

  “Understandable attitude,” murmured the philosoph.

  “This doctor’s friend was with an expedition to Alaspin to study the ruins of the ancient civilization there. He hypotha . . . hypothesized that the minidrag’s ancestors might have been raised as pets by whoever had produced that culture. Selective breeding could account for some of their peculiar characteristics. Like, they have no natural enemies on the planet Fortunately their birthrate is very low. And they are omnivorous as well as carnivorous. I found out early what that meant, when Pip started eating bread when he couldn’t find meat. Oh yes, he also said they were suspected of being empathetic telepaths. You know, telepathic on the emotional but not the mental level. That’s why I’m never cheated in the marketplace or at business or gambling. Pip’s sensitive to such things.”

  “A fascinating creature, I say again,” Truzenzuzex continued. “A subject I would like to pursue further. However as I am not an exoherpetologist, I don’t think it would be worthwhile just now. Too many other things on my mind.” The confession did not entirely ring true, as Flinx could read it. Not entirely.

  Malaika was craning his neck over the map, tracing out lines in the plastic with his fingers and nodding occasionally to himself. “Ndiyo, ndiyo . . . yes.” He looked up finally.

  “The planet in question circles a GO, sol-type star. Four-fifths of the way toward GalCenter, straight through the Blight. Quite a trip, gentlesirs. He doesn’t supply much information on the planet itself, no, not by an ndege-depositing, but it might be enough. Terra-type, slightly smaller, marginally thinner atmosphere, higher proportion of certain gases . . . helium, for example. Also eighty-one point two percent water, so we should have little trouble finding the thing.”

  “Unless it happens to be submerged,” said Truzenzuzex.

  “So. I prefer not to consider possibilities upsetting to the liver. Besides, if that were the case I don’t think your prospector friend would have found it. We’ll have the same kind of heavy-metal detection instruments with us anyway, but I’d
wager on its being above the water-line. If I recall, the information we do have on the Tar-Aiym suggests they were anything but aquatic in build.”

  “That’s true,” admitted the philosoph.

  “We’ll travel most of the way through unspaced areas, but then, one section of nothing is very much like any other, kweli? I foresee no problems. Which probably means a mavuno of them. At least we will be comfortable. The Gloryhole will not be crowded with all of us.”

  Flinx smiled but was careful to hide it from the merchant. The origin of the name of Malaika’s private cargo-racer was a well-known joke among those in the know. Most thought it an ancient Terran word meaning a rich mineral strike. . . .

  “Unless, of course, this gun or giant harp or whatever is going to crowd us. How big did you say it was?”

  “I didn’t,” said Tse-Mallory. “We’ve no better idea than you. Only that it’s . . . large.”

  “Hmph! Well, if it’s too big to go up on the shuttle, we’ll just have to send back for a regular transport. I’d rather sit on it once we’ve found it, but there are no relay stations in that area. If it’s been there untouched for a few millenia it will wait a few days.” He rolled up the map. “So then, sirs. If there are no objections, I see no reason why we cannot leave kesho, tomorrow.”

  There were none.

  “Ema! A toast, then. To success and profit, not necessarily in that order! Nazdrovia!” He raised his tankard.

  “Church and Commonwealth,” murmured man and thranx together, softly. They sipped down the remainder of their drinks.

  Malaika burped once, glanced out through the crystal wall where the sun of Moth was sinking rapidly behind the fog-squalls.

  “It is late. Tomorrow then, at the port. The dock stewards will direct you to my pit. The shuttle will take us all in one trip and I need little time to set my affairs in order.”

  Tse-Mallory rose and stretched. “If I may ask, who are ‘us all’?”

  “Those four of us here now, Wolf and Atha to run the ship, and, of course, Sissiph.”