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

“I must get some sun,” Lise said.

“Is it safe for you to be outdoors?”

“Here, yes. Here it's not safe for YOU to be outdoors. Someone might mistake you for a bounty hunter -- a fool-hardy one, at that.”

She climbed the steps leading outside. Nyk followed her.

He looked around in the daylight and attempted to get his bearings. The doorway to the basement led into a courtyard surrounded on four sides by four and five story buildings. Whether they had been built as tenements or had been converted, he could not determine from the exteriors. The condition of the building left no doubt. They had been long neglected.

The courtyard itself was paved in concrete. It was broken and tufts of native plants pushed their way through the cracks. Over a low fence he could see into another courtyard. A group of novonid children played running and hiding games.

She pointed past the houses. “This sector... from there...” She pointed again. “To there... is ours. We have a sort of an agreement with the constables. So long as we stay inside, they won't bother us. And, if the body of a bounty-hunter should be found outside the perimeter...”

“He was foolish enough to violate the agreement.”

“That's right. Don't worry, Nykkyo. No one will bother us in this courtyard.”

He followed Lise to some concrete bricks stacked to form a planter. Growing there were some knee-high shrubs. He looked at the seed heads, with feathery, colored tassels. “This looks like pomma,” he said.

“It's not,” she replied. “It's related to pomma. You can't eat it, though. This grows wild along the hedgerows. My mother brought seeds for these from the farm. I liked them so she gave them to me.”

“I thought the tassels looked more elaborate -- more showy -- than the ones I saw at the pomma farm.”

Lise pointed to a row of plants with lavender tassels. “These are my favorites. Aren't they pretty?”

“It's a very striking color.”

“I grew them from seed. It's a variety that needs to be mated from two different plants in order to give fertile seeds. I made them by mating blue seeds with pollen from red and yellow tassels.”

“Lise, did you know I am a botanist? Do you know what that is?” She shook her head. “It's someone who studies plants. I have never seen a plant needing three parents.”

“I discovered it by accident,” Lise replied. “Mother said she never saw one this color in the wild.”

“Blue, red and yellow give lavender?”

“I'll show you...” She picked a yellow and a red tassel from two different plants, then rubbed them against a blue pistil on the end of an immature seed. “With luck, that will mature into seeds, and the seeds will grow into plants with lavender tassels.”

“Have you studied this, Lise?”

“Yes. I keep track of the ones I cross, so I can make more. I like pretty things.”

“Lise -- you are doing science. You are figuring out the genetics of this plant.”

She shrugged. “It gives me something to do. We like to be busy in the sun.”

“So I've heard.”

Lise picked up a can and limped to a standpipe. She filled it with water and poured it onto the roots of her plants. “I'll get you more water,” Nyk said, “so you don't have to be on that foot.”

“It's all right,” she replied. “Exercising helps it feel better; otherwise it stiffens up.”

“You need sun -- I need shade. I can't stay in your world's sun very long or it'll burn me.”

“We'll go inside then.”

“But, you need sun.”

“There's always more sun.”

She limped to the doorway to her basement home.

“Let me carry you. Those steps look tricky, and with your foot...”

“Nykkyo -- it isn't the first time I've twisted an ankle... All right, carry me.”

He slipped one arm behind her knees and supported her back with the other. She put her arms around his shoulders. He looked into her orange eyes. She looked into his and smiled. Then, he carried her down the steps and set her onto a stool.

He extended his hand. “I know banishing mistrust between your people and mine is too much to expect. Do you think we can banish it between you and me?” She clasped her hand to his. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

“Lise -- do you believe in Destiny?”

“Destiny?”

“I do. I believe there's a master plan for the universe, and a purpose for everyone and everything. I believe Destiny planned that you twist your ankle, so I would help you. And -- She planned that I help you so I could meet your remarkable family.”

“Remarkable? Nykkyo -- we're no different than any family.”

“That is what's remarkable.”

Nyk paced the basement. Noon, afternoon, sunset and dusk had all passed. Lise lit one of the tin-can lamps.

His stomach growled. “You must be very hungry,” Lise said.

“No, Lise. I am beyond very hungry.”

“I'm sorry, but we have nothing.”

“I'm getting worried, Lise.”

“I've been worried...”

He heard footfalls on the concrete steps leading directly outdoors. “Lise!” Rayla's voice called. “It's Grott and me.”

Rayla stepped into the basement carrying a parcel. She handed it to Nyk. “This is for you. I imagine you're very hungry by now.”

Inside the parcel was a round of flat pomma bread and a bottled beverage. “Thanks,” he replied and tore a chunk from the bread.

“What took you so long?” Lise asked.

“We were detained by authorities,” Grott explained.

“Did you use the scrip I gave you for this?” Nyk asked.

“A little bit of it. Don't worry -- the rest will be put to good use.”

“A plainclothes constable was in line behind us,” Rayla added. “He wondered how we came by a scrip card of that denomination. They claimed to be looking for a band of street thugs, but it's really an excuse to harass law-abiding folk. They know Grott is an elder.”

Nyk finished wolfing down the flat bread and chugging the drink. “Let's go,” he said. “I'm sure my people are frantic for me by now.”

“There was a report of a missing Floran envoy,” Rayla replied. “I saw it on a news display.”

Lise stood, avoiding putting weight on her left foot. Nyk embraced her and kissed her forehead. “Take good care of your folks, Lise. They love you and need you.”

“I know and I will. Goodbye, Nykkyo.”

He turned to Rayla and hugged her. Grott nodded toward the doorway.

Nyk climbed with him into the Varadan night. “You have plenty of time before curfew,” he said. “Best to avoid the alley where Lise came in. It's watched.”

“Watched by whom?” Nyk asked.

“By street thugs. If you turn right instead of left, you're at a brothel. Street thugs will take your scrip. And, the authorities watch the thugs. If they're lucky, they arrest both -- the thugs and the brothel's customers. I tell Lise not to use the alley, but it's shorter than the safe route.”

“With me pursuing her, she probably thought shorter was safer.”

“Probably,” Grott agreed. He gestured. “In here.”

Nyk followed him into another building. He walked along the first floor. Tiles were missing and pieces of mortar kicked underfoot. With Grott he passed open doorways and saw novonid men and women, some young and some old. He saw children, and toddlers with green blotches on white skin.

Grott led him down a set of stairs into another basement, and then into a tunnel. He pointed to a set of steps leading upward. “That will take you to the street. There's a bus stop on the corner.”

Nyk extended his hand. “Good luck with your family, Grott. You'll get Lise registered, won't you?” Nyk gave him the two-fingered Floran salute and mounted the steps. He pushed open a trap door, stood on the street and looked around. The sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach confirmed what he already knew -- he was still in a bad part of town.

The street was deserted and illuminated mainly by the city's light pollution, scattered by its air pollution and giving the sky a dull, yellow glow. He crossed over to the bus stop and realized he had no idea how often the streetcars ran on this line ... at this hour...

He paced back and forth under an inoperative streetlamp. One vehicle passed by, then another in the opposite direction. Footsteps approached from down the block. Nyk paid them no heed and waited, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Something sharp pressed against his throat. “Give me your scrip.”

He dug into his pocket and turned over the last scrip card to a powerfully-built novonid man. “There ... that's ... that's all I have,” he stammered. He felt hands from behind him patting him down.

The beam from a pylon spotlight caught his face. Two of his assailants fled in opposite directions. The one with the knife spun him around, put his arm in a hammer-lock and held the blade again to his throat.

Nyk saw a needle-thin, red beam of a laser sight slice through the polluted city atmosphere. Then, a pop and he felt himself splattered by warm droplets. His assailant crumpled to the sidewalk.

“Halt! Put your hands up,” came a disembodied voice from the top of the pylon. Nyk held up his hands and backed away until stopped by a wall.

The whine of a turbine grew louder. The spotlight from the pylon was joined by one from the approaching vehicle. It stopped and two uniformed men stepped out.

“ID please,” one constable said.

“I ... I don't have any.”

“No ID -- take him in.”

“My name is Nykkyo Kyhana. I'm a member of the diplomatic mission from Floran.”

“You're coming with us.”

Another constable pulled Nyk's hands behind his back and secured them. They pushed him into the van. Its turbine whined up and it bumped and bounced along the broken pavement.

“My name is Nykkyo Kyhana,” he repeated to the officer guarding him. “I'm a member of the diplomatic mission from Floran. That's why I have no ID. I'm meeting with Prefect Ogan. He will vouch for me.”

“You say your name is Nykkyo Kyhana,” a plain clothed detective asked him.

“Yes.”

“You have no identification.”

He held up his right wrist. “On my world, my identification is implanted here. You lack the ability to read it.”

“That name has been on the alerts,” another officer remarked. “There have been reports all day about a missing diplomat with that name.”

“Yes,” Nyk said. “That's me. I'm sure my colleagues are frantic looking for me.”

“You should've picked a less conspicuous identity to steal,” the detective replied. “Why would a diplomat be in this part of the city, after dark?”

“He must've been rounding up greenies to take home with him,” the other officer replied, chuckling. “Go ahead, pal -- take them all.”

“No.” Nyk sighed. “I've told you... I went for a stroll. I was lost. It was after curfew and a novonid family sheltered me for the night.”

“Do you know what happens if the greenies find whites inside their perimeter? WE find the bodies the next day.”

“They must've realized I was no threat to them. I was unarmed, and I'm no match for one of their men ... I'm no match for one of their women.”

“So, they sheltered you overnight.”

“Yes -- then, tonight one of them led me through a secret tunnel. I was waiting for the bus when I was accosted.”

“Do you remember any names?”

“...No, I don't.”

“You're sure?”

“No. I don't recall any names.”

“Too bad ... it would've helped your alibi.”

A uniformed cop opened the door to the interview room and signaled the detective. “Excuse me, Sir...” He conferred with the officer. “We have been unable to match his biometrics to any in our files.”

“None?”

“No prints, no retinal scans, no DNA profile.”

“That's because I'm not from here,” Nyk replied. “I told you -- I'm from the Floran delegation.”

“Try contacting the prefect,” the detective said. “Be apologetic.”

“We're on it.”

“Why didn't you call him as soon as you brought me in?”

“Mr Kyhana -- one does not disturb a prefect on a whim.”

“Mr Kyhana,” said Ogan, “I do not appreciate being summoned at this time of night ... to this part of town. What were you doing? What were you thinking?”

“I couldn't sleep. I decided to take a stroll, instead. I realized I had gone too far and decided to take a streetcar home. I must've gotten on the wrong one.”

Ogan stopped pacing and glowered at him. “You certainly have gone too far