Free Mid-Flinx by Alan Dean Foster Page B

but one is relatively close.”
    “Define ‘relatively’ in this instance.”
    “I believe that would be misleading, sir, given the energetic nature of the surface. Linear and chronological distance are not likely to correspond in any meaningful fashion.”
    “Is there room enough to land?”
    “The space is inadequate and the topography unsuitable,” the ship replied discouragingly. “There are one or two places where a properly piloted shuttle might safely achieve touchdown.”
    “Good enough. Take us back to a normal orbit.”
    “Yes sir.” A tremor ran through the ship as it balanced on its unique drive and began to ascend. “Further observation reveals that the exposed area is composed of especially tough granites, very difficult for organics to break down. This could account for the absence of the otherwise omnipresent vegetation.”
    “What an amazing place.” Flinx continued to gaze out the port as they returned to orbit. “I wonder what kind of animals, if any, live here? Surely in all this world-spanning forest there has to be a variety of mobile life forms.”
    “In the absence of high-resolution observations, it would be premature of me to speculate, sir.”
    Time to reprogram the
Teacher
’s voice, Flinx decided as he rose and headed for the shuttle bay.
    “We’ll go down and have a look around,” he told his companion. Pip eyed him uncomprehendingly. “A world capable of supporting this kind of life deserves to be reported. Settlements would do well here.”
    “Your appraisal is similarly premature, sir. If you would like my opinion—”
    “I always want your opinion, ship.” Flinx turned down a corridor.
    “The biotic density far exceeds that of any previously recorded rain forest. Even the thranx, who are partial to such conditions, might have difficulty establishing themselves here. The growth may not be manageable, and I remind you that we know nothing of the actual surface, which must be shrouded in perpetual darkness.”
    “I didn’t say potential colonizers wouldn’t have problems. They could start by clearing a wide section of forest.”
    He halted sharply and had to place one hand against a wall for support. An alarmed Pip raised both wings and immediately began hunting for an unseen enemy.
    “Sir?” The voice of the ship was concerned.
    “Whew!” Flinx put the hand to his head. “Just had something shoot through me like you wouldn’t believe. Not like one of my usual headaches. I guess I’m going to have to adapt to a new round of pain.” He straightened. “It’d be worse on Samstead. Or Terra.” Cautiously he resumed walking.
    On board the shuttle he addressed the vorec which was permanently linked to the
Teacher
’s neutral nexus. “You’re sure there’s a place to set down? I don’t want to burn any vegetation if I don’t have to.”
    “There should be adequate room, sir, though there is little margin for error.”
    “I’m not worried.” He slipped into harness. “You don’t make errors.”
    “No, sir.”
    The shuttle detached cleanly from its bay, pivoted in nothingness, and engaged a preprogrammed angle of descent, aiming for an infinitesimal spot of gray/brown that just barely protruded above the sea of green. As he dropped, Flinx marveled through the port at the virescent surface. Colossal emergents with overarching crowns a hundred meters across dominated the chlorotic topography, while smaller yet still gigantic growths fought for a share of life-giving sunlight. Utilization of every shaft of sunshine, every stray photon, was contested. On this world photosynthesis had gone wild, and chlorophyll was the addiction of choice.
    As they descended, the roar of the shuttle’s engines was a steady, reassuring thrumming in his ears. He reached back to his childhood, when, as a carefree ward of the tolerant Mother Mastiff, he’d spent days climbing the gnarled evergreens of Drallar’s public parks. Other children might have mothers and fathers, but