Flinx in Flux by Alan Dean Foster

minidrags. More often than not they ended up hitting one another.
    It seemed to strike them simultaneously that they could do no good here, the way an invading army suddenly realizes it has been outflanked by the enemy it intended to crush. A silken rip sounded as one man plunged headfirst through the light mask and out into the hall. Brighter light from the hallway fixtures flooded into the room. He was followed by his companions. There were too many for Flinx to count in the confusion. They must have been infiltrating the room for thirty minutes or more before Pip woke him.
    Some continued to howl as they tried to cope with the effects of minidrag toxin while they retreated. Other shouts were beginning to be heard, confused and angry voices. Doors opened onto other rooms, and tenants peered out to see what had disturbed their sleep. As they caught sight of the chameleon suits and the weapons, they retreated in haste.
    “Pip?” Flinx straightened cautiously. “Pip, get back in here! That’s enough.”
    It was several minutes before the big flying snake returned to the room, having pursued the last of the intruders to the bottom of the first flight of stairs. If Flinx had not called her back, she would have emptied her store of poison and might well have killed every last one of their assailants. Flinx did not want that. He planned flight, not mass murder. And in better light there was always the chance one of the attackers might get off an accurate shot.
    Scrap hovered behind her, straying aloft while his mother landed at the foot of Flinx’s bed. She did not fold her wings and relax, Flinx noted, a suggestion of more trouble to come.
    Only then did he notice how tightly Clarity was clinging to him. “It’s them,” she mumbled, the fear sharp-edged in her voice.
    “Of course it was them. Unless there’s someone else who wants you badly enough to kill.” He looked toward the still open door. “There were a lot of them. More than I would’ve expected.”
    She turned her face toward him. She was only centimeters away. “I told you how badly they want me.” He could feel her trembling against him. No false bravado now. She was scared out of her wits.
    “It’s okay.” He wanted to be clever and fearless and nonchalant but only ended up being himself. “They’re gone.”
    “The snakes,” she murmured. “The minidrags.” She glanced at Pip and her still hovering offspring. Scrap kept pivoting in midair, spoiling for more fight, searching for fresh enemies.
    She stood, and he rose with her. Half a dozen bodies littered the floor. Several lay facedown. Others did not. The latter were not nice to look upon. Flying snake venom and nitric acid had similar effects on human flesh. No wonder people who were familiar with the minidrag’s abilities hurried to cross the street when they saw Flinx coming.
    “Pip woke me,” he told her. “She sensed the threat. There was no need for me to move first. If I had, someone would’ve shot me. I always try to avoid that sort of thing because minidrags don’t have half-reactions. You can’t tell Pip just to wound somebody. There’s no such thing as a limited flying snake strike.”
    They stepped over the body of a very large man who had fallen at the base of both beds. Clarity’s eyes rose from the body to the doorway.
    “I wonder if they’ll come back?”
    “Not immediately. Would you?”
    She shook her head sharply. Scrap darted toward her, and she moved to duck. Flinx hastened to reassure her.
    “Relax. I think you’ve made a friend, though there’s no way of telling if he acted to protect me, his mother, or you. Remember that he can tell what you’re feeling, so he knows you mean me no harm. As long as that’s true, there’s no reason for you to be afraid of him.”
    “You told me,” she said, straightening. “You told me, but I still couldn’t imagine how lethal they are.”
    “Many people know that they’re deadly. What they don’t realize is how