Orphan Star

Chapter 1

Watch where you're going, qwot

The merchant glared down at the slim, olive-skinned youth and made a show of readjusting his barely rumpled clothing.

Your pardon, noble sir, the youngster replied politely. “I did not see you in the press of the crowd.” This was at once truth and lie. Flinx hadn't seen the overbearing entrepreneur, but he had sensed the man’s belligerence seconds before the latter had swerved intentionally to cause the collision.

Although his still poorly understood talents had been immensely enriched several months ago by his encounter with the Krang-that awesome semisentient weapon of the now-vanished masters of the galaxy, the Tar-Aiym-they were as inconsistent as ever. The experience of acting as an organic catalyst for the colossal device had almost killed both him and Pip. But they had survived and he, at least, had been changed in ways as yet uncomprehended.

Lately he had found that at one moment he could detect the thoughts of the King himself off in Drallar's palace, while in the next even the minds of those standing in close proximity stayed shut tight as a miser's purse. This made for numerous uncertainties, and oftentimes Flinx found himself cursing the gift, as its capriciousness kept him in a constant state of mental imbalance. He was like a child clinging desperately to the mane of a rampaging devilope, struggling to hang on at the same time he was fighting to master the bucking mount.

He shifted to go around the lavishly clad bulk, but the man moved to block his path. Children need to learn how to mind their betters, he smirked, obviously unwilling, like Flinx, to let the incident pass.

Flinx could sense the frustration in the man's mind, and sought deeper. He detected fuzzy hints of a large business transaction that had failed just this morning. That would explain the man's frustration, and his apparent desire to find someone to take it out on. As Flinx considered this development, the man was making a great show of rolling up his sleeves to reveal massive arms. His frustration faded beneath the curious stares of the shifting crowd of traders, hawkers, beggars, and craftsmen who were slowing and beginning to form a small eddy of humanity in the round-the-clock hurricane of the Drallarian marketplace.

I said I was sorry, Flinx repeated tensely.

A blocky fist started to rise.

“Sorry indeed. I think I'm going to have to teach you . . . The merchant halted in his stride, the threatening fist abruptly frozen in midair. His face rapidly turned pale and his eyes seemed fixed on Flinx’s far shoulder.

A head had somehow emerged from beneath the loose folds of the youth's cape. Now it regarded the merchant with a steady, unblinking gaze that held the quality of otherworld death, the flavor of frozen methane and frostbite. In itself the skull was tiny and unimpressive, scaled and unabashedly reptilian. Then more of the creature emerged, revealing that the head was attached to a long cylindrical body. A set of pleated membranous wings opened, beat lazily at the air.

Sorry, the merchant found himself mumbling, “it was all a mistake . . . my fault, really.” He smiled sickly, looked from left to right. The eyes of the small gathering stared back dispassionately.

It was interesting how the man seemed to shrink

While searching for information about his unknown parents, Flinx's extraordinary mental powers lead him into the clutches of one of the most depraved men in the galaxy, the only one who knows the truth behind his mysterious origins. Reissue

Chapter 1

Watch where you're going, qwot

The merchant glared down at the slim, olive-skinned youth and made a show of readjusting his barely rumpled clothing.

Your pardon, noble sir, the young