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

“Leave me out of this silly game.”

Nyk forced himself to fight the effects of the alcohol. “Prefect,” he said. “Would you do us a favor?”

“Well ... that depends.”

“A novonid girl -- young woman, actually -- who served us at the guest house has gone missing.”

“That's too bad.”

“I understand law enforcement falls under your domain of responsibility.” Nyk glanced toward Andra and saw her nodding off. He nudged her under the table. She shook her head and looked up. “If your officers should come across her, have them thank her for us -- for taking such good care of us.”

“Yes? Certainly. How is she known?”

“She's known as Laida -- or, Three-eight-six.”

“Three-eight-six... I'll remember that, and keep an eye out.”

“Thank you, Prefect.”

“What are you talking about?” Wells asked.

“I was merely asking Prefect to try to locate a friend of ours -- a Varadan friend.” Nyk glanced at Andra. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She smiled. “Prefect -- is there a lavatory near by?”

“Through the door to the left.”

Nyk watched her walk out the door and thought she look unsteady on her feet. “I'd better make sure she's all right.” He stepped into a unisex restroom and saw the soles of her sandals from under a stall door. “Andra?”

He approached her. “Andra? Are you all right?”

She was kneeling over one of the toilets, her arms crossed across the bowl and forehead resting on her wrists. “I will be, now that I've thrown up all that beer -- plus some pomma pancakes I had for breakfast two days ago.”

“Was this your first experience with alcohol?” he asked.

“And, my last... How can you handle that stuff?” She turned her face into the bowl and retched. “Nyk, I really don't need any help, here ... excuse me...” She vomited into the toilet.

He crouched and caressed her back. “I'll admit I feel a little green around the gills, myself. Suki's dad used to get me drinking sake and it gave me a similar sensation in my stomach.”

“Mine felt like it was on fire.” She sat back on her heels. “I think I'm done. I'm glad I vomited. I was on my way to being very inebriated otherwise.”

He filled a polymer tumbler with water and handed it to her. “Rinse with this... I'll help you up.”

“Pomma beer doesn't taste nearly as bad going down as it does coming back up... How do I look?”

“Except for the bloodshot eyes, the flushed cheeks ... and mussed hair -- you look great.” He grabbed a disposable towel, ran cold water over it and wrung it out. “Here...” She held it over her eyes. “Will you be able to eat dinner?”

“If I go slowly, I think so. I don't think vomiting at a state dinner is appreciated here.”

“I wonder where it IS appreciated.” he replied.

She mopped her face with the towel. “How does this look?”

“Better...” He adjusted her hair for her, then embraced her and kissed her forehead. “I really appreciate your help on this assignment, Andra.”

“Thanks... I'd kiss you but I don't think you'd appreciate it from someone who just threw up.”

“You can owe me one.” He took her hand and escorted her back to the dining room.

The 501's transport shuttle lifted off and headed toward space. “Well?” Nyk asked. “Did Ogan know?”

“Know what?”

“Last night -- about Laida?”

“You know, Nyk -- my head was swimming when you pulled your little stunt.”

“What do you think?”

“I think I shouldn't have drunk so much pomma beer.”

“What about Ogan?”

“I think the number one job requirement for a prefect on this rock is the ability to hold his liquor.”

“Does he know about Laida?”

“I don't know ... I don't think so. These politicos are so good at covering their tracks. From what I recall -- and I don't recall much -- I'd say no, he doesn't know.”

“So, there goes THAT theory.” Nyk gazed out the viewport. “I'm going to pop into the cockpit and watch the approach.”

“Suit yourself,” Andra replied.

“Come join me.”

He unfastened his restraints and worked his way to the cockpit door. “Ah, Nykkyo -- Andra,” the pilot said. “Pull down a pair of jumpseats and make yourself at home. I didn't expect to be picking you up.”

“Why not?”

“The talks were planned to run another four days. You two were to remain here and return on the courier. We were scheduled to break orbit yesterday, but we were delayed.”

“These sort of talks end when they end,” Nyk replied. “You can't predict when.” He pondered. “Break orbit yesterday? According to our arrangement, this vessel was to remain in orbit until the talks concluded.”

“We had orders from the envoy herself.”

“Tomyka Wells ordered the change in plans?”

“That's right.”

“The arrogance of that woman,” Nyk muttered to Andra. “I'll have another talk with Illya about this.”

The shuttle approached the ExoScout and went into station-keeping. “What's the hold-up?” Nyk asked the pilot.

“The bay's occupied. We have to hold until we get clearance.”

“Occupied by what?”

“A Varadan shuttle.”

Nyk watched as the clamshell doors opened and the shuttle slipped into space. Thrusters oriented it and a set of rockets fired to send it into a surface-bound trajectory.

“Those things are rocket-powered?” Nyk asked.

“No,” Andra interjected. “Those aren't rockets. They get thrust by blowing pomma husks out the back.”

“They're quite sophisticated -- considering,” the pilot replied.

“Are they alcohol-fueled like the rest of their vehicles?” Nyk asked.

“No,” the pilot replied. “I had a tour of one. The main engines run off slush hydrogen.”

“If they can manufacture slush hydrogen, then they're halfway to a fusion reactor,” Nyk remarked.

“More impetus to their desire for Floran technology,” Andra remarked.

“The engines breathe air up to mach 5,” the pilot continued. “On the way up they liquefy air and store it, using the cryo hydrogen as a condenser. Above mach 5 they close the inlets and operate them as rockets. They're quite clever, actually.”

Nyk watched the Varadan shuttle re-enter and head toward the surface. The 501's transport shuttle landed and the pilot taxied to a parking stall on the side of the shuttle bay. “Give us a moment for pressurization,” the pilot said. “Okay, we're clear. Careful where you step. Those Varadan vessels use some nasty stuff in their thrusters, and some of it leaked onto the deck.”

Nyk led Andra to the lift and walked with her to their cabin. “I can't wait to be underway,” he said.

Nyk paced his cabin. “We've been stuck in orbit half a day,” he said. “I think I keep hearing shuttles land.”

“We've been here eight Floran days,” Andra replied. “It took four for us to get here and it'll take four to go home. Half a day more won't make much difference.”

“I suppose... Let's go up to the observation lounge.” He led her to the lift and rode it to the circular, domed cabin atop the scout. He stood, looked aftward and pointed. “It looks like another shuttle coming in...” He watched as the craft slid into the clamshell doors. “What could they be loading?”

Zane stepped into the lounge. “Here you are... We're about ready to get underway,” he announced. “Captain wanted me to tell you.”

“Zane -- what are those shuttles delivering?” Nyk asked.

“Samples of Varadan goods,” Zane replied.

“What goods?”

“That I don't know. All I know is they're samples.”

“I know,” Andra replied. “Whole pomma, hulled pomma, pomma flour, pomma bread, pomma beer, pomma cakes, pomma brew, pomma meal...” She counted on her fingers.

“They must have manufactured goods,” Zane observed. “It's not an agricultural society. You can tell so from orbit -- they're mechanized down there.”

“I'd say in terms of advancement, they're mid-way between Earth and Floran. I can't imagine we'd be interested in Varadan technology -- THAT exchange would be in the other direction.”

“Could they be delivering metal ingots?” Andra asked.

“I know nothing about their cargo,” Zane answered, “only that they're samples.” The shuttle departed. “That's the last delivery. We'll be underway shortly. I must man my post.”

Nyk sat on a bench and belted himself in. “Now, it's jump after jump after jump,” he said.

Six wedge-shaped flash shields slid into place to cover the lounge dome. Warp indicator lamps flashed white, then blue and the first jump throbbed through the scout's structure.

Nyk strolled onto the bridge. He saw the captain and astral navigator conferring. “Do some more probing,” the captain instructed. He looked up. “Ah, Nykkyo.”

“Just looking for a progress report,” Nyk said.

“It's slow going,” the captain replied. “If our probing works out, we'll make one more jump this watch.”

“Then what?”

“We'll let the warp coil re-form overnight and begin again in the morning.”

Nyk headed back to his cabin. “News?” Andra asked.

“I have no idea where we are.” He picked up his handheld vidisplay. “What I do know is, we're in deep space and out of range of the comm net.” He showed her the screen. “No signal...”

“Let's have a dinner package devoid of any pomma and turn in,” she replied.

Nyk lay in his bunk, eyes wide open. Andra lay beside, her back to him. He looked at the clock. Nadir-one, he thought, and wondered what sort of graveyard watch was kept on this bucket.

He nudged Andra. “Wake up.”

“What?”

“Something's been bothering me. Our mission was to return home with that Letter of Intent.”

“Which we are doing.”

“There was no mention during any of our talks of returning with Varadan goods -- no mention during any of our briefings. And, there's Tomyka trying to change the mission plans. If she had her way, we'd still be on Varada and this craft would be heading home without us.”

“That's why I'm so happy you stared her down. I spent all the time on that planet I could stand.”

“That's not it. I think something's going on -- something we weren't supposed to witness. And, I think we should take a look at the cargo we're hauling. Call it more intelligence gathering.”

“What time is it?”

“Nadir-one standard -- halfway through second watch. Are you coming with me? It's a chance to see if your grain-for-minerals theory holds any water.”

She yawned. “Now that I'm wide awake I suppose...”

“Then, put some clothes on.” He opened a drawer and withdrew a handheld lamp.

The deck two corridor was empty. Nyk called the lift and looked at the control panel. “Deck five -- cargo hold,” he said. “Let's look there.”

The lift carried them to the deck directly above the warp coil and fusion reactors. “Tread softly,” he said. “Engineering is manned around the clock. Footsteps would be transmitted through this metal decking.” Andra nodded.

He swung his lamp around the hold. “Empty,” Andra said.

“That makes no sense,” he replied. He scanned the hold from stem to stern, and from port to starboard. “Just one big empty ... room. I don't know how many shuttles landed. They were offloading something.”

“What's one deck up?” she asked.

“Shuttle bay -- and settlers' barracks.”

“This ship has a skeleton crew,” she replied. Maybe they left the cargo in the shuttle bay.”

“Maybe...”

He returned to the lift and called the car. The liftcar doors opened.

He pressed the panel for deck four. A scanpad lit up.

“Deck four is locked out,” Andra said.

“I don't dare a wristscan. The captain said decks four through six are off-limits to us. I'm sure we're not authorized and a scan could trigger an alarm.”

“Zane didn't need a wristscan when he brought us through here on that tour.”

“That's right -- this is something new...”

“...and suspicious,” she added. “What do we do? Go back down and use the freight lift?”

“That would make way too much noise.” He cancelled the call and pressed the panel for deck three. “With my scale models, I'm probably as familiar with this tub's layout as a crewman...”

The lift carried them up. He exited and led her down the corridor. “Is there another lift?” she asked.

“No. There are 'tweendecks ladderways, but I'm sure they're locked. This way...”

He led her down the corridor, past doorways labeled Sick Bay, Crew Mess and Galley. They approached a bulkhead with a door marked Passengers' Mess. He pressed the actuator and another scanpad illuminated. “It's locked, too.”

“Why would we want to go in there?” Andra asked.

“If we were on a seeding