Flinx Transcendent_ A Pip & Flinx Adventure - Alan Dean Foster [8]
He would pick up his few belongings and begin to retrace his steps out of the city. A chartered automatic transport would take him to the remotest part of a nearby planetary park, a region of preserved and profound desolation little visited by those in whose interest it had been established. It was there he had been quietly dropped off by one of the Teacher's masked shuttlecraft, and it was there that he would call and wait for pickup. He had survived his sojourn on the AAnn capital world and had learned a little more about himself. That and more would see him returning with fresh resolve to a previous decision now reinforced. He was once more certain of what he was going to do with the rest of his life. Rejuvenated and enlightened by the time spent on the AAnn homeworld, he was ready to leave.
Blasusarr's intense sun was setting, turning what could be seen of the horizon above the low buildings a fiery yellow and the undersides of outmatched clouds a deepening rust red. At this time of day few nye were out walking. The notion of a casual evening stroll was an exercise that appealed to very few of them. Even in the absence of pedestrian traffic he was careful to keep to the paved right-hand path and out of the winding sand-filled causeway that dominated the center of the street. It was not unknown for aggressive, hormone-driven AAnn to resort to a favored ploy of their primitive ancestors by burying themselves in the sand, there to wait until the time came to erupt and confront potential adversaries who would not have time to avoid the consequent challenge.
As he turned the last corner before his residence, he spared a glance for the woven sand sculpture that marked the intersection of multiple pathways. Held erect and in place by hand-sketched magnetic fields, the braided streams of multicolored sand and flecks of local gemstone were recycled in continuously shifting patterns; the fountain spewed stone instead of water. Sunset's blush turned the spout's sunward side to shards of stuttering rainbow.
Both the automated manager and live concierge of his building would be sorry to see him go. Not only had he paid for his stay in advance with his carefully counterfeited Imperial credit, he had freely rented the least desirable quarters in the entire structure: high up and on the shady side of the building. His view of the inevitable desert garden and exterior sand-filled relaxation area was from above: practically from overhead. From an AAnn point of view, his rooms were totally undesirable.
He did not expect to see the concierge when he checked out, nor was it necessary for him to do so. As an out-system visitor intent on commercial business, such personal interaction was not only unnecessary but an open invitation to spontaneous challenge. Flinx was confident that the somewhat elderly concierge was as eager as himself to avoid any gratuitous final farewells.
So he was more than a little surprised to see the elder nye, slightly stooped from his species' version of scoliosis, standing just outside the entrance to the building where he presented himself open to challenge by any casual passerby. Despite the AAnn's present choice of location and stance, Flinx saw right away that such a potential confrontation was unlikely.
Not when the concierge had half a dozen or so armed enforcers clustered closely around him.
As far back as he could remember, Flinx had always had excellent reflexes. In Drallar, on Moth, they had helped to keep him always just out of reach of the local police. Later, as he had traveled from one end of the Commonwealth to the other, they had often been the difference between life and death. A second or two slower, a second or three later under threatening circumstances, and he might not be standing where he was now.
In the rapidly fading light of evening a human might easily have overlooked the approaching Flinx—but not an AAnn. The concierge was old, but he was not blind. Before