Flinx Transcendent_ A Pip & Flinx Adventure - Alan Dean Foster [119]
Perceiving no need to hurry, the assassin considered this most peculiar plea for clemency. “The unlikeliness of what you put forward aside, it does not sound to me like something a stripling like yourself could influence.” A hand drew back, gathering force to strike a killing blow.
Flinx did something he had never done before in his life. He boasted.
“I am civilization's last hope.”
Coming from a beaten young man lying on the polished floor of an exurban residence on the fringes of the city of Sphene, this was such a blatantly outrageous declaration that the senior Qwarm was disposed to pause, if only to deliver a final assessment.
“You do not look to me like the last hope of anything except yourself.” The killing hand tightened.
Lying on his back gazing up at the assassin, his chest heaving, out of time and ideas, Flinx tried one last tack. Knowing what he did of the Qwarm he had little hope it would work, but he had to try.
“Whatever the Order is paying the Guild, I'll triple it. I have access to resources far beyond what you can see or imagine.”
“He's telling the truth!” From her body jacket of explosive foam, Clarity pleaded with the killer. “About having money and about saving the galaxy.”
The Qwarm allowed himself a single sigh. “I am sorry. I do not believe the latter. As for the first, you should know that the Guild's reputation is built on a cherished tradition of fulfilling each and every contract to the letter of the respective agreement. Even if I were personally attracted to such an offer, as a member of the Guild I could never agree to it. Were I to do so, my own brothers and sisters would hunt me down and swiftly put paid to any such idiosyncratic escapade.” The killing hand rose higher. “Consider yourselves fortunate I was hired to dispatch you quickly and efficiently, and not to make your passing linger.”
The fist started to descend toward Flinx's face, almost faster than the eye could follow. He barely had time to close his eyes. Encapsulated in explosive, Clarity screamed. Slithering toward the combatants, a grounded Pip desperately spat venom that landed more than a meter short of its target. The Qwarm's precise, methodical killing strike struck home.
And just brushed Flinx's left ear.
A heavy weight depressed his chest. His breathing had stopped, but not as a consequence of the assassin's blow. The man had collapsed on top of him and it was his great weight that was inhibiting Flinx's respiration. To the left of his head, the murderous strike had cracked the stone floor. Clarity was still screaming. Gasping and choking on her own anguish she stopped only when, grunting with the effort, he rolled the heavy body off to one side and slowly sat up.
“Flinx?”
“I'm okay. I'm alive. I guess.” Sucking air, he eyed the massive bulk that was now lying motionless on the floor next to him. The Qwarm was unchanged, provided one discounted the hole that pierced his cranium from forehead to back. The hole was notably smaller in front than in the rear, indicating that something superfast and lethal had penetrated the skull. No sound had accompanied the lethal shot. A sonic stiletto would make a hole like that, Flinx knew. Or an inertia plug. Professional that he was, the Qwarm could probably have identified the source immediately. Except that it had been focused on him, and now he was dead.
A pulsing, cylindrical shape slithered into his lap. A quick check of Pip's right wing showed that the injury, while sufficient to bring her down, was not extensive. With appropriate treatment it should heal quickly. Lifting her, he slipped her carefully onto his right shoulder and waited until she had a good grip before he rose.
A voice parsing elegant symbospeech clicked melodically behind him.
“Still riding the grizel, I see.”
Still a little unsteady, he turned and looked behind him. What he saw and