Reunion: A Pip And Flinx Novel by Alan Dean FosterReunion: A Pip And Flinx Novel by Alan Dean Foster

Reunion: A Pip And Flinx Novel

byAlan Dean Foster

Mass Market Paperback | February 26, 2002

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Bestselling author Alan Dean Foster returns to his acclaimed Humanx universe, where a young human orphan called Flinx seeks to unlock the dangerous secrets of his past–and the uncertain prospects of his future with the aid of the formidable minidrag known as Pip. This mind-bending Pip and Flinx adventure is a roller-coaster ride into the unknown, filled with wonder and humor, and a host of deadly adversaries.

Using his enhanced empathic abilities, Flinx finesses his way into a top-secret security installation on Earth. Once there, he bamboozles a sophisticated AI program into releasing classified information about the Meliorare Society, the sect of renegade eugenicists whose experiments with human beings had horrified the civilized universe more than twenty years ago. After all, as one of the few Meliorare experiments to survive, Flinx has a right to know about his past. Especially since his telepathic powers seem to be evolving. The question is, evolving into what? The excruciating headaches afflicting Flinx with increasing frequency make him wonder if he will be alive to find out. . . .
Alan Dean Foster has written in a variety of genres, including hard science fiction, fantasy, horror, detective, western, historical, and contemporary fiction. He is the author of the Star Wars® novel The Approaching Storm. He is also the author of numerous nonfiction articles on film, science, and scuba diving, as well as the noveliza...
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Title:Reunion: A Pip And Flinx NovelFormat:Mass Market PaperbackPublished:February 26, 2002Publisher:Random House Publishing GroupLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0345418689

ISBN - 13:9780345418685

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Customer Reviews of Reunion: A Pip And Flinx Novel

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Read from the Book

When bad people are chasing you, life is dangerous. Whengood people are chasing you, life is awkward. But whenyou are chasing yourself, the most simple facts of existencebecome disturbing, destabilizing, and a source ofunending waking confusion.So it was with Flinx, who in searching for the historyof himself, found that he was once again treading uponthe hallowed, mystic soil of the spherical blue-whitewomb among the stars that had given birth to his wholespecies. Only, the soil he was treading presently wasbeing treated by those around him with something otherthan veneration, and a means of sourcing the informationhe hoped to uncover was still to be found.Tacrica was a beautiful place in which to be discouraged.Sensitive to his frustration, Pip had been actingfidgety for days. An iridescent flutter of pleated pink-and-blue wings and lethal, diamond-backed body, shewould rise from his shoulder to dart aimlessly about hishead and neck before settling restlessly back down intoher customary position of repose. As active as she wascolorful, the mature female minidrag was the only thinghe was presently wearing.His nudity did not excite comment because every oneof the other sun and water worshipers strolling or lyingabout on the seashore was similarly unclothed. In thehuman beach culture of 554 a.a., the superfluity of wearingclothing into the sea or along its edge had long beenrecognized. Protective sprays blocked harmful UV rayswithout damaging the skin, and frivolous, transitorypainted highlights decorated bodies both attractive andpast their prime. It was these often elaborate anatomicaldecorations that were the focus of admiring attention,and not the commonplace nakedness that framed them.Flinx flaunted no such artificial enhancements, unlessone counted the Alaspinian minidrag coiled around hisneck and left shoulder. Such contemporary cultural accoutrementswere as alien to him as the primeval grainsof sand beneath his feet. Culturally as well as historically,he was an utter and complete stranger here. Nor was hecomfortable among the throngs of people. With its stillunsettled steppes and unexplored reaches, Moth, wherehe had grown up, was far more familiar to him. He wasmore at home in the jungles of Alaspin, or among theblind Sumacrea of Longtunnel, or even in the aggressiveworld-girdling rain forest of Midworld. Anyplace buthere. Anywhere but Earth.Yet it was to Earth he had finally come for a secondtime, in search of himself. All roads led to Terra, it wassaid, and it was as true for him as for anyone else. BeyondEarth, the United Church had placed a moral imperativelock, an elaborate Edict, on all informationabout the Meliorares, the society of renegade eugenicistsresponsible for whatever bastard mutation he had become.Travels and adventures elsewhere had left himwith hints as to their doings, with fragmentary bits andpieces of knowledge that tantalized without satisfying. Ifhe was ever going to unravel the ultimate secrets of hisheritage, it was here.Even so, he had been reluctant to come. Not becausehe was fearful of what he might find: He had long sincematured beyond such fears. But because it was dangerous.Not only did he want to learn all the details of hisorigins: so did others. Because of contacts he had beencompelled to make, the United Church was now awareof him as an individual instead of merely as an overlookedstatistic in the scientific record. As high-rankingan official as thranx Counselor Second Druvenmaquezhad taken a personal interest in the red-haired, bright-eyedyoung man Flinx had become. The novice beach-goersmiled to himself. He had left the irascible, elderlythranx on Midworld, slipping away quietly when the sciencecounselor had been occupied elsewhere. When heeventually discovered that the singular young humanhad taken surreptitious flight, the venerable thranx wouldbe irked. He would have to be satisfied with what littlehe had already learned, because neither his people noranyone else would be able to track Flinx's ship, theTeacher, through space-plus.Ever cautious, Flinx had decided for the moment tohew to the hoary principle that the best place to hide wasin plain sight. What better place to do that than on one ofthe Commonwealth's twin world centers of governmentand religion, where he had come looking for informationyears ago? It was where he needed to be anyway, if hewas ever going to find out the truth about himself. In additionto his burgeoning curiosity, there had come uponhim in the past year a new sense of urgency. With theonset of full adulthood looming over him, he could feelhimself changing, in slow and sometimes not-so-subtleways. Each month, it seemed, brought a new revelation.He could not define all the changes, could not quarantineand assess every one of them, but their periodic nebulosityrendered them no less real. Something was happeningto him, inside him. The self he had known sinceinfancy was becoming something else.He was scared. With no one to talk to, no one to confidein save a highly empathetic but nonsapient flying snake,he could look only to himself for answers--answers hehad always wished for but had never been able to acquire.It was for those reasons he had taken the risk of comingback to Earth. If he was going to find what he needed toknow, it lay buried somewhere deep within the immensevolume of sheer accumulated knowledge that was one ofthe homeworld's greatest treasures.But if he was home, as every human who came toEarth was supposed to be, then why did he feel so muchlike an alien? It bothered him now even more than it hadwhen last he had visited here some five years ago.He tried to wean himself from the troubling chain ofthought. Belaboring the accumulated neuroses of twentyyears would solve nothing. He was here on a fact-findingmission; nothing more, nothing less. It was important tofocus his attention and efforts, not only in hopes of securingthe information he sought, but in order to avoidthe attention of the authorities. With the exception of thethranx Druvenmaquez and his underlings, who werespecifically looking for him, what other agencies and individualsmight also be interested in one Philip Lynx hedid not know. It did not matter. Until he left the home-world,a little healthy paranoia would help to preservehim--but not if he allowed his thoughts to float aimlessly,adrift in a distraught sea of incomplete memoriesand internal conflicts.Of course, he might well secure answers to all thequestions that tormented him by the simple expedient ofturning himself in. Druvenmaquez or a specialist in someother relevant bureau would gladly take the plunge intothe secrets of him. But once committed to such research,he would not be allowed to leave whenever it mightplease him. Guinea pigs had no bill of rights. Revealinghimself might also expose him to the scrutiny of those hewished to avoid--the great trading houses, other privateconcerns, the possible remnants of certain heretical andoutlawed societies, and others. Becoming a potentiallyprofitable lab subject carried with it dangers of its own--a long, healthy, and happy future not necessarily beingamong them.Somehow he had to discover himself by himself, withoutalerting to his presence the very authorities whomight help alleviate his seemingly illimitable anxieties.And he had to do it quickly, before the changes he wasexperiencing threatened to overwhelm him.For one thing, the unpredictable, skull-pounding headacheshe had suffered from since childhood--the ones thatcaused blinding flashes of light behind his eyes--weregrowing worse, in intensity if not frequency. When and ifit occurred, would he be able to tell the difference betweena common headache and a cerebral hemorrhage? Wouldhe be able to deal with the physical as well as the mentalconsequences of the changes he was undergoing? Heneeded answers to all the old questions about himself, aswell as to the new ones, and he needed them soon.Of all the billions of humans on all the settled worldsscattered across the vast length and breadth of the Commonwealth,no one could claim that "nobody understandsme" with the depth of veracity of a tall youngredhead named Philip Lynx, who was called Flinx.

Editorial Reviews

“Bestseller Foster has created yet another entertaining adventure story in the far-flung reaches of a far-future outer space. . . . Using the traditional cliff-hangers and narrow escapes of classic SF adventure page-turners, and propelling Flinx from one crisis to another, from moral dilemma to deus-ex-machina, Foster enlists multiple formulas for a surefire . . . reading experience that should appeal to space-opera fans.”–Publishers Weekly“Flinx’s trek through the deadly desert and his encounters with the AAnn make for a good read.”–Locus