The Lost Colony by DM Arnold (thriller books to read .txt) 📕

staring into the screen and tapping the keyboard. “Nothing. No matter how I specify queries for novonids, I get nothing.” Andra stood behind and looked over his shoulder. “Maybe novonids just aren't considered newsworthy here.”

“Maybe the word isn't considered polite -- at least polite in the media.”

“Like ax'amfin... What euphemism would they use?”

“Try a related term,” Andra suggested.

“Related how?”

“I don't know... Have you tried Benevolent Shelter Society?”

“No, I haven't...” He manipulated the display. “Here we go... Look at this: 'BSS members cited for possession of unregistered feral fieldworker.' So fieldworker is the press euphemism...” Nyk continued to read. “This couple was discovered harboring a feral novonid ... an adolescent female...” Nyk read more. “They had their shelter privileges revoked ... paid fines...” He looked up at Andra. “The feral female...” He shook his head and bit his lip. “...was destroyed.”

“Oh no, Nyk! Proof positive the novonid picture isn't as pretty as Ogan painted.”

“Yes -- I must get this to Kronta.” He sat back and stared at the screen. “But how... I can't download these files -- their screens aren't compatible with our vidisplays.” He took his handheld from his travel case and powered it on. “I know...” He turned the device toward the media terminal and used its camera to photograph the screen. “This will have to do... Look at this.”

On the screen was a pair of older novonids -- male and female. “This appears to be an advertisement recruiting for the BSS: 'They gave their lives to growing pomma for us ... Now, which should be their future?'” He scrolled the screen and an image of a human child sitting on the man's lap appeared, juxtaposed with an image of a hypodermic syringe. “'The choice is yours.' It goes on with a testimonial from a family who adopted a retired fieldhand. 'Our fieldworker is like a member of our family.' It also describes how joining the BSS entitles one to purchase nutrient from the society. Touching... I'll send this to Kronta also.”

“Are there other articles?”

“Certainly... BSS member arrested for attempting to organize farm workers... ” Nyk photoimaged the screen with his handheld. “This one's real interesting... It seems a smaller pomma farm was being auctioned after the death of the landlord. A BSS member bought two novonids -- male and female... He was subsequently charged with using them to produce pornographic videos.”

“See? I told you so!”

“There's more... The novonid pair were confiscated by the Varadan state.”

She put her hands over her ears. “Don't tell me they were terminated.”

“No, they weren't...”

“I'm relieved.”

“There was quite a dispute over what to do with them. The head enforcer wanted to terminate them. The BSS insisted they be given shelter. Another group wanted to sell them to the farmers... In the end the state auctioned them, and the BSS bought them. They're with a BSS family now.” He continued to scroll. “I see a number of articles in that vein. It looks like a BSS mandate is to buy them when they can and then shelter them.”

The doorchime sounded. “I'll get it,” Andra said and headed toward the door. “Laida, come in.”

Nyk stood from the terminal as Laida stepped inside. “Did you get your sun?”

“I certainly did,” Laida replied.

“You look darker,” Andra remarked.

“Yes -- it was a good sunning. I can't describe how good it feels ... relaxing and exhilarating at the same time.” She closed her eyes and lifted her face. “Mmm... It's been a while since I've had such delicious sunshine.”

Andra showed Laida her forearm. “I got sun today, too -- but I didn't find it delicious. It hurts.”

“How's your arm?” Nyk asked. Laida held out her forearm. The puncture wounds had healed, but an oblong, dark bruise remained between them. “You removed the bandage.”

“Yes -- it feels better. I'm healing. The mark will fade over time.”

“You appear in better spirits tonight,” Andra said.

“A day in the sun will do that. I'm sorry if I wasn't gracious yesternight. It must've been sun hunger. I came to see if you'd like your dinner prepared.”

“Please do,” Nyk said.

“What would you like me to make?”

“Whatever you think we'd enjoy,” he replied.

Laida pondered. “I know...” She brought water to boil and dumped in a quantity of pomma kernels. Nyk watched as she tested and drained the pomma, mixed it with other ingredients and dumped it into a baking pan. She slid this into the oven. “That must heat... May I get you anything while we wait? Some pomma beer perhaps? It's very good ... I've been told.”

“That would be fine, Laida.”

“I'll be right back.” She breezed out of the apartment and returned with two tumblers filled with a fizzing tan liquid.

“None for you?” Nyk asked.

“I can't drink this,” she replied. “It will make me very sick.”

“Drink something,” Nyk said. “Fill a glass. Sit and drink with us.”

“I'll drink water.” She sat at the table and sipped from her glass.

“Tell us about yourself,” Andra said.

“There's not much to tell. I was born at a breeder's. There I was trained as a hospitality servant.”

“So Alvo bought you?”

“No -- I belong to my breeder. She only leased me to the guesthouse. As a female, I'm too valuable. There's a saying: A male's worth one, a female ten. The breeders tend to retain title to their females. My mother still lives there. She no longer bears children, but she nurses them. I visit her from time to time.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes. So long as it's before curfew, we can travel the streets. Right now, I'm registered to this guest house. My travel is never questioned, for I must be fetching this or that for a guest. Let me check your dinner.” Laida looked into the oven. “Yes -- it's done.” She brought two plates and set them on the table.

“Have you tasted pomma?” Nyk asked.

“Yes -- from time to time.”

He lifted his spoon-fork utensil. “Have you tasted this?”

“No.”

“It's very good. Try some, Laida.”

“It's not food I can use.”

“It won't harm you to eat some, will it?” he asked.

“No... But, why bother to?”

“You'll do a better job servicing your guests if you know what it tastes like.” Nyk stood and took a plate from a cabinet. He placed a small scoop of the pomma casserole onto it and set it before Laida. “My mother-in-law has a saying. She says someone who doesn't enjoy coffee should never attempt making it.”

“What's coffee?” she asked.

“An Earth beverage similar to pomma brew. Besides, Laida -- you look pathetic sitting there ... doesn't she, Andra?”

“Pathetic,” Andra concurred.

Laida looked down at herself. “Pathetic? How?”

“You're sitting, sharing a table with us -- with nothing before you but a half-empty glass of water.”

Laida scooped a small amount of the casserole. “How do you like it?” Nyk asked. She shrugged and smiled. “Florans tend to treat eating as a bodily function,” he continued. “I've learned on Earth that, when shared with friends, a meal can be a pleasure.”

“I believe Varadans feel the same way,” she replied.

“Laida -- you ARE a Varadan,” Andra remarked.

“No.”

“Yes -- you live on Varada -- you are Varadan.”

“Laida,” Nyk asked, “could you take us to meet your mother?”

She shook her head. “I dare not.”

“You said you could travel there unrestricted.”

“Yes... Mr Alvo would be displeased.”

“Wouldn't he be displeased to know you refused a guest's request? Especially one you could so easily grant?”

She pondered. “I'll place a call with Ms Ramina.”

“Who?”

“She's the breeder who owns me.”

Laida left the table and used the media terminal. “Yes, Ms Ramina has agreed.”

“Then, let's go.”

“I must clear the table,” Laida replied.

“It can wait. Those plates aren't going anywhere.” He picked up the currency scrip Alvo had given him.

Nyk stood with Laida and Andra on a corner. “Where is this facility located?”

“Quadrant 2, sector 14,” Laida replied. “I usually take one of the streetcars. There's no fare for us, but we must stand.”

“Can't we buy a fare for you?”

“No. Standing room is provided for us.”

“I've seen the standing room provided for you. Laida -- we have all this scrip. Does this city have a livery service?”

“Certainly.” Laida pointed. “That's a livery call box.”

Nyk walked to mid-block and saw a kiosk. “Do I press this?”

“Yes -- that will call a livery car.”

He pressed the panel and rocked on his heels while awaiting the livery. A vehicle approached and pulled to a stop. “Address?” the driver asked.

“Quadrant 2, sector 14,” Nyk said.

The driver nodded and the door slid open. Nyk gestured Andra and Laida inside. “Wait -- I don't carry their kind,” the driver said gesturing in Laida's direction. Nyk stepped out and the cab sped off.

“I'm sorry,” Laida said. “We should take the streetcar.”

“Nonsense.” He pressed the panel again.

Another livery car approached. Nyk conferred with the driver and then gestured the women inside. “A fare's a fare, he said,” Nyk reported. The door slid shut and the cab headed into traffic.

8 -- The Breedery

Their route carried them away from the government complex, past office buildings and storefronts and into a residential section. The cab stopped at a corner of two streets filled with row houses having the look of once being affluent but now neglected. He helped Laida and Andra from the car.

“I gave the driver something extra,” Nyk said.

“Ms Ramina's is over there,” Laida said, pointing at a row of houses.

“Which one?” Andra asked.

“All of them. Come with me.”

Nyk followed Laida into one of the houses. “Ms Ramina!” she called.

A grey-haired Varadan woman approached and threw open her arms. Laida fell into them. The woman hugged her, kissed her and caressed the back of her bald head. “My Laida...”

Ramina looked Laida over and took her forearm. She pointed to the bruise. “What happened here?”

“Nothing -- it'll be all right,” Laida replied.

Nyk looked around the vestibule. He saw a certificate recognizing Ramina as a charter member of the BSS.

“Ms Ramina -- these are the people I told you about.”

Nyk extended his hand. “Nykkyo Kyhana. This is Andra.”

“Come inside. Go call your mother, Laida.”

Nyk regarded Ramina. “I see you're a member of the BSS,” he said. “Isn't what you do contradictory to their purpose?”

“Not in the least,” she replied. “In fact I don't know any breeder -- any who care, that is -- who doesn't support the BSS.”

Laida returned with an older novonid woman in tow. She was bare-breasted and suckled an infant. “Mother -- these are Nykkyo and Andra -- they're from Floran.” The woman smiled.

“Is that a boy or girl?” Nyk asked.

“Boy,” Laida replied.

“May I hold him?”

“It's time to switch sides,” Laida prompted, took the infant from her mother and handed him to Nyk. He cradled the boy in the crook of his arm.

“You've held an infant before,” Ramina noted.

“Yes -- I have a little boy at home.” He regarded the child. “His skin is about the same color as mine. Except for the orange eyes and black lips, I'd mistake him for a human child.”

“And the baldness,” Andra added.

“I've seen plenty of bald Earth infants.” Nyk smiled and held his finger for the baby to track. “When does the skin change?”

“After they're weaned,” Ramina answered.

“He's adorable.” Nyk handed the infant to Laida's mother, who resumed nursing him. A toddler wearing a diaper waddled into the room and hugged Laida's leg. The boy's white skin was covered with irregularly-shaped green blotches. “I take it this boy was weaned recently.”

“Within the past few days. His pigment is developing well.”

“Let's go back and visit,” Laida said to her mother. “Our guests wish to chat with Ms Ramina.”

“Please sit.” Ramina gestured toward a worn settee.

“Ramina,” Nyk said, “tell us why you support the BSS.”

“The BSS provides a safety net. It's a comfort to know if anything happened to me -- they'd be cared for. I love them, Nykkyo -- they're my children. I joined the BSS ... I don't know how many years ago. I adopted a retired fieldhand. Eventually I started this business because I thought someone with compassion should be raising them.”

“You own all the houses on this block?”

“Yes -- this business needs a lot of room.”

“How many males and females do you