Mid-Flinx Read Free

one woman’s distress sparked the inevitable headache.
    It was evident that the young man wasn’t going to let her return to the kitchen until he’d achieved whatever sort of satisfaction he’d come for. Even without the two heavies, it was an unequal confrontation.
    Flinx had passed by or otherwise ignored a thousand such encounters. Calmly he worked on the last of his meal. For all he cared or could do about it, the confrontation taking place behind him could escalate to actual violence. Either way, it was none of his business. Nothing that happened in this city, along this river, or on this rustic world of Samstead, was any of his business. Circumstances beyond his control, indeed, beyond his birth, had estranged him from the rest of humankind. It was a separation that for his safety and peace of mind he was forced to acknowledge. All he wanted was to finish his food, pay, and leave quietly.
    That didn’t mean he wasn’t upset by the situation. Having been looked down on for much of his life, he hated to see anyone bullied. But interfering would draw attention to him, something he was at constant pains to avoid.
    An older man emerged from the kitchen, painfully intent on resolving the confrontation. If anything, Flinx decided, the level of tension and unease he was generating exceeded that of the young woman. The heavy who’d been enjoying the view promptly put a palm on the senior’s chest and shoved him back toward the kitchen doorway. The woman tried to intercede but the man holding her arm refused to relinquish his grip.
    The heavy finished pushing the oldster back into the kitchen and turned, blocking the doorway with his bulk. Flinx wondered at the old man’s interest. Was he merely an associate, or perhaps a relative? An uncle, or even her father? Again, it was none of his business.
    Noting her master’s steadfast emotional keel, a relaxed Pip fluttered back down to the table and resumed picking among the crumbs there. Flinx watched her fondly. Digging through the remnants of his lunch, he slipped half a nut onto his spoon and flipped it into the air. With a lightning thrust of neck and flash of wings, Pip darted up and snatched it before it could hit the table, swallowing the morsel whole.
    “Just a minute.”
    The voice came from behind him, completely under control yet hinting it was always on the verge of violent exclamation. It suggested tension without edginess. Unintentionally, Flinx had attracted the attention of the principal protagonist in the unpleasant domestic drama being played out near the entrance to the kitchen.
    “Are you going to let me go now?” The woman’s voice was insistent and frightened all at once. Her emotional temperature was fully reflective of her false bravado. Flinx had to admire her for it.
    “Yes, Geneen.” It was the tight, soft voice of the man who’d been holding, and hurting, her arm. “Go back to your cooking. For now. We’ll continue this later.”
    “But Jack-Jax . . .” the heavy blocking the doorway protested.
    “I said let her go, Peeler.” Paradoxically, the quieter he became, the more intimidating the speaker managed to sound. “Don’t try to leave, Geneen.”
    Flinx didn’t have to turn to know that the three had started toward his table. He sighed resignedly. At the first sign of trouble he should have risen quietly from his chair, paid his bill, and departed. Now it was too late.
    Only the one called Jack-Jax evinced any real emotion. The two heavies were emotional blanks, waiting to be imprinted by the whims of their master. As they drew near, Peeler projected a modicum of disappointment, no doubt displeased at the interruption of what had been for him an amusing diversion. Flinx disliked him immediately.
    Reflexive as automatons, the two big men took up positions on either side of the table. Peeler stopped behind Flinx while his counterpart eyed the recumbent minidrag curiously. Neither showed any fear. They were paid not to.
    The one