Flinx Transcendent_ A Pip & Flinx Adventure - Alan Dean Foster [111]
With nothing more to do until the skimmer reached its destination, he forced himself to settle back in the pilot's seat. The grand and peaceful surrounds of the city of Sphene disclosed themselves around him, the sun-washed urban serenity in stark contrast to the emotions that were boiling inside him. He was only partly successful in his efforts to calm Pip. Those who wanted him dead would have to cope with her, too, he thought dourly.
As for his ability to do things, the Order of Null was about to find out the full extent of that Talent.
“I'm looking for a friend.”
The hotel clerk regarded the visitor equably. “I'll need a little more information than that.”
“Of course you will. His name is Philip Lynx. It's possible he is registered under a different name. But I can describe him easily. Quite tall, red hair, green eyes; and he is rarely without his pet: a small, brilliantly colored winged creature that often rides on his shoulder.”
The clerk's expression brightened. “Oh, yes. I know the gentleman.” He glanced to his left. “His rooms are vacant of life-forms at the moment.” The clerk hesitated. “Wait. You are his—friend?”
“Absolutely,” declared the stranger with fresh interest.
“Just a moment.” Reaching into a drawer behind the counter, the clerk removed a small clear plastic vial. “He said that a friend of his would come to pick this up.” One hand slid the container holding the black memory splinter across the polished blackwood. The visitor eyed it thoughtfully. “You are that friend, of course.”
The visitor hesitated momentarily, then brightened. “I suppose so.” The memory splinter disappeared into a carry pouch. “Thank you for your help. When I see my friend I'll thank him personally for your assistance.” With that, the visitor turned and headed for the front exit.
Always glad to be of help to a guest, the clerk turned back to his work, convinced he had done the right thing.
Not long thereafter a distinctive pair of beings entered the lobby and approached the same counter. One was a burly human, the other an elderly thranx. Looking up from his monitor projections, the clerk smiled at the newcomers.
“May I help you? Do you require habitation?”
“Just information.” The human was curt without being impolite. “A friend of ours has been staying here. We've been unable to contact him, which is not unusual. What is unusual is that his communit appears to have been shut down completely.”
“Completely?” The clerk was professionally sympathetic. “That is disconcerting.”
Tse-Mallory uttered a bad word. “It's worse than disconcerting, I'm afraid. Where our friend is concerned, and based on the kind of day my multilimbed friend and I have had so far, it could be a matter of life and death.”
“Our friend does not answer his personal communit and we have not been able to contact him via your interchange.” Standing back on his four trulegs, the thranx was just able to peer over the human-height counter. “Can you send someone to check his room, or allow us to go there with a member of your staff to look at it for ourselves?”
Anxious to please, the helpful clerk's right hand hovered over the relevant instrumentation. “What is your friend's name again?”
Tse-Mallory provided the alias Flinx had used when he had registered with Nurian Immigration upon arrival. At the mention of the name the clerk needed to wave only briefly at his instruments.
“The gentleman left here earlier. He did not check out and he hasn't returned.”
The two visitors exchanged a glance, the thranx punctuating his look with a sharp gesticulation the clerk did not recognize.
“Did he happen to mention his intentions, or where he was going?” Truzenzuzex inquired tersely. The clerk shook his head. “Did he happen to leave anything behind?”
At this the clerk smiled. “Yes. A memory splinter. A friend would come to pick it