Free Flinx's Folly by Alan Dean Foster

that she was free of diseases and parasites but also to make certain she was not pregnant. New Riviera was entirely too accommodating to imported species to allow anything out into the wild without official approval, where it would like as not reproduce and thrive like mad. With Flinx close by to keep her calm, the irritated flying snake tolerated the process. It helped that the well-trained personnel assigned to perform the necessary procedures were calm and unafraid. They were shielded by their ignorance, Flinx knew.
    As soon as the last of the efficient but extensive landing and arrival procedures had been completed, Flinx shouldered his travel satchel and made his way down the succession of access corridors into the main terminal. The first thing that struck him was the unmistakably high degree of general affluence. That, and the general contentment that filled his mind. The majority of emotions that touched him were happy ones. Not all—the port was full of human beings, after all—but most. It was a refreshing change from places like Goldin IV and Earth, where humanity still struggled harder with itself than against anything else.
    First he needed to find a place to stay, someplace comfortable but nondescript, preferably in the busiest part of the city where he would attract the least attention. Then access to the planetary box, to begin his search. The kind of search he planned to undertake would probably veer into the illegal, but that had never slowed or stopped him before.
    Breathing in the pleasantly warm, just sufficiently humid air of Nur, he lengthened his already considerable stride. So far, the stories that were told of New Riviera had proven to be true. If he did not feel at home, at least he was comfortable.
    It had been a while since Flinx the thief had done any thieving. As always, he was looking forward to resuming what had, after all, been the first and only real profession he had ever mastered.
    Barkamp Inn, the hotel where he finally settled, was, like everything else on Nur, clean, comfortable, and accommodating. No one questioned the desire of Alpheus Welles to stay for an indeterminate time until he had concluded his business. No one inquired the reasons for his stay. As usual, any curiosity was directed to the new arrival’s unusual pet. Satisfied that it was under the control of its owner, hotel staff flung no further questions in the redheaded Mr. Welles’s direction.
    For those living and working in a planetary center of commerce and enterprise, the citizens of Sphene exhibited an air of contentment alien to comparable Terran cities like Brisbane and Lala. Not that the conflict was absent. The usual jealousies and hatreds common to humankind were present in abundance. One could get mad at one’s neighbor, competitor, or spouse as easily here as on any other settled world. It was just harder to stay quite as mad, with the sun beaming down beneficently, the beach so close, and pleasant woods and lakes beckoning at every turn as soon as one left the city behind.
    To embark on his search while preserving his anonymity and security, he chose a public access terminal located on the ground floor of a large office building. The structure’s architects had made good use of spun fibers, producing a multistory building in the shape of a favorite local fruit tree. The most exclusive offices, he learned, were housed in the “fruits” that hung from woven composite-and-metal branches. On Nur, whimsy as well as technical competence were the hallmarks of a successful architect. Many of the buildings were designed to reflect more than just a prosaic need to house apartments or offices. His favorite was the one topped by a café that was shaped like a pirouetting local quadruped.
    Entering the building, he veered left toward the public terminal station and chose a booth as far from the entrance as possible. A transparent wall provided a view of a street outside. Sticking his ident card into a slot