the noise died away, then pulled hard. A second pull and the rotted metal gave way. Transferring Pip, with greater control now, he repeated the process on his other bindings, the snake doing his bidding through each step.
As he was freeing his left leg, Flinx noticed a movement on his right. So did Pip, and the minidrag took to the air again.
The single survivor shrieked as the dragon shape moved close. “Get away, get away, don’t let it near me!” he gibbered in total terror.
“Pip!”
Flinx commanded. A hushed pause. The minidrag continued to hover nervously before the crouching man, its wings a hummingbird blur, soulless, cold-blooded eyes staring into those of the bleeding human whose clavicle showed pale through dissolved clothing.
Flinx finally ripped clear of the last strap. Getting slowly to his feet, he made his way carefully to the other table. The clothes he’d been wearing were an unsalvageable mess. He began to slip into the second jumpsuit, in whose folds Pip had been so comfortably coiled.
“I’m sorry for your friends, but not too sorry,” he murmured. Zipping up the suit, Flinx turned to the shocked creature on the floor. “Tell me the whole story and don’t leave out any details. The more questions I have to ask, the more impatient Pip will get.”
A stream of information poured from the man’s lips. “Your thranx friend is a small-time criminal.”
“Antique services,” Flinx muttered. “Very funny. Go on.”
“It struck him odd that a kid like you, traveling alone, would be so interested in looking up Conda Challis. On a hunch he beamed Challis’ offices here and told them about you. Someone high up got upset as hell and told him to deliver you to us, to be checked out.”
“Makes sense,” Flinx agreed. “What was supposed to happen to me after I was—er—checked out?”
The man huddled into the corner farthest away from the fluttering minidrag, whispered, “Use your head—what do you think?”
“Challis claimed he was the thorough type,” Flinx observed. “I could have been an innocent passenger—it wouldn’t have mattered.” Repacking his few intact belongings in the hand case, Flinx started for the door that Bisondenbit had exited through only moments before.
“What about me?” the man mumbled. “Are you going to kill me?”
Flinx turned in surprise, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the human wreck who had confidently pawed through his luggage just minutes before. “No. What for? Tell me where I can find Conda Challis. Then I’d advise you to get to a hospital.”
“He’s on the top floor of the executive pylon at the far end of the complex.”
“What complex?” Flinx asked, puzzled.
“That’s right—you still don’t know where you are, do you?” Flinx shook his head. “This is the fourth sublevel of the Challis Hivehom Mining Components plant. The Challis family’s very big in mining machinery.
“Go to the corridor outside the door, turn to your left, and keep on until you reach a row of lifts. They all go to the surface. From there anyone can direct you to the executive pylon—the plant grounds are hexagon-shaped and the pylon’s at the northeast corner.”
“Thanks,” said Flinx. “You’ve been helpful.”
“Not helpful, you poisonous little bastard,” the unemployed cripple muttered painfully as soon as Flinx had departed, “just pragmatic.” He began to crawl slowly toward the open door.
In the corridor, once assured that no one waited in ambush, Flinx snapped his fingers again. “Pip . . . rest now.”
The minidrag hissed agreeably and fluttered down into the open case, burying itself quietly within the folded shreds of torn clothing. Flinx snapped the latch shut. At the first opportunity he would have to replace the ruined lock, or else chance some innocent bystander suffering the same fate as his three former captors.
No one challenged him as he continued on toward the lifts. The numbers alongside the doors were
As he was freeing his left leg, Flinx noticed a movement on his right. So did Pip, and the minidrag took to the air again.
The single survivor shrieked as the dragon shape moved close. “Get away, get away, don’t let it near me!” he gibbered in total terror.
“Pip!”
Flinx commanded. A hushed pause. The minidrag continued to hover nervously before the crouching man, its wings a hummingbird blur, soulless, cold-blooded eyes staring into those of the bleeding human whose clavicle showed pale through dissolved clothing.
Flinx finally ripped clear of the last strap. Getting slowly to his feet, he made his way carefully to the other table. The clothes he’d been wearing were an unsalvageable mess. He began to slip into the second jumpsuit, in whose folds Pip had been so comfortably coiled.
“I’m sorry for your friends, but not too sorry,” he murmured. Zipping up the suit, Flinx turned to the shocked creature on the floor. “Tell me the whole story and don’t leave out any details. The more questions I have to ask, the more impatient Pip will get.”
A stream of information poured from the man’s lips. “Your thranx friend is a small-time criminal.”
“Antique services,” Flinx muttered. “Very funny. Go on.”
“It struck him odd that a kid like you, traveling alone, would be so interested in looking up Conda Challis. On a hunch he beamed Challis’ offices here and told them about you. Someone high up got upset as hell and told him to deliver you to us, to be checked out.”
“Makes sense,” Flinx agreed. “What was supposed to happen to me after I was—er—checked out?”
The man huddled into the corner farthest away from the fluttering minidrag, whispered, “Use your head—what do you think?”
“Challis claimed he was the thorough type,” Flinx observed. “I could have been an innocent passenger—it wouldn’t have mattered.” Repacking his few intact belongings in the hand case, Flinx started for the door that Bisondenbit had exited through only moments before.
“What about me?” the man mumbled. “Are you going to kill me?”
Flinx turned in surprise, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the human wreck who had confidently pawed through his luggage just minutes before. “No. What for? Tell me where I can find Conda Challis. Then I’d advise you to get to a hospital.”
“He’s on the top floor of the executive pylon at the far end of the complex.”
“What complex?” Flinx asked, puzzled.
“That’s right—you still don’t know where you are, do you?” Flinx shook his head. “This is the fourth sublevel of the Challis Hivehom Mining Components plant. The Challis family’s very big in mining machinery.
“Go to the corridor outside the door, turn to your left, and keep on until you reach a row of lifts. They all go to the surface. From there anyone can direct you to the executive pylon—the plant grounds are hexagon-shaped and the pylon’s at the northeast corner.”
“Thanks,” said Flinx. “You’ve been helpful.”
“Not helpful, you poisonous little bastard,” the unemployed cripple muttered painfully as soon as Flinx had departed, “just pragmatic.” He began to crawl slowly toward the open door.
In the corridor, once assured that no one waited in ambush, Flinx snapped his fingers again. “Pip . . . rest now.”
The minidrag hissed agreeably and fluttered down into the open case, burying itself quietly within the folded shreds of torn clothing. Flinx snapped the latch shut. At the first opportunity he would have to replace the ruined lock, or else chance some innocent bystander suffering the same fate as his three former captors.
No one challenged him as he continued on toward the lifts. The numbers alongside the doors were
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