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

“I don't believe the novonid model is based so much on slavery as ... well, as on a concept like using draught animals a couple hundred years ago on Earth.”

“I think I'd dislike the notion of draught animals just as much,” she replied.

A tone sounded at the door, then sounded again. “Come,” Nyk called. “It's unlocked.”

The door swung open. An older man entered followed by a young novonid female. Like her male counterparts, she was bald and dressed in short shorts and sandals. She wore a bandeau to cover her breasts. The tattoo on her collar bone read LLB102386.

“Hello,” the man said. “I'm Alvo -- guest house manager.” He gestured to the green girl. “This is Three-eight-six, and she is at your disposal for any of your needs.” He placed some cards on the table. “Here is some currency scrip you can use to purchase incidentals.” He glanced at the girl. “You've encountered our novonids, yes?”

“Yes,” Andra replied.

Alvo nodded. “I've been following the debates regarding the decision to approach the hegemony and petition for normalization. Many in our governing house believed novonids would ... disturb Floran sensibilities.”

“They disturb mine,” Andra said. “I don't like seeing anyone relegated to menial...”

Alvo cut her off with a gesture. “Our novonids lack free wills. You won't find one discontent, aspiring to greater things. It's not in their nature to do so. What IS in their nature is selfless obedience. And -- don't ascribe feelings to them. They don't feel as you and I do. Let me demonstrate...”

He stepped into the apartment's kitchen, rummaged through a drawer and removed a skewer. “Three-eight-six, come here.” The girl approached. “Watch... hold out your arm.” He held the skewer parallel to her arm.

Nyk winced as he watched Alvo drive the skewer several inches under the skin of her forearm until it protruded out the other side. “Not even a flinch.” He pulled it out. “Thank you, dear. Now, she can prepare your dinner -- or, you can dine out or have food brought in.” He pointed to a call button. “If you need anything day or night, any time -- Three-eight-six will be at your command.” Alvo headed out the door.

“What did you make of Alvo's demonstration?”

“I think she felt it,” Andra replied. “I saw fear and pain in her eyes.”

“I think you're right.”

“I wonder how much of what the Varadans tell us about novonids is their own self-delusion.”

“I'll get my case.” Nyk stepped down the corridor to the door and picked up his bag. His eye caught the novonid girl standing in the lavatory, running cold water on her arm. She was biting her lower lip. A thick brown fluid oozed from both wounds.

Nyk entered the lavatory. “You did feel that, didn't you?” She nodded and tears ran down her cheek. “Maybe I have something to help...” He popped open his travel case and removed a bottle from an inside compartment. “Floran healing salve -- I never leave home without it. I'm assuming your biology is similar enough to mine for this to have a chance at working... Hold out your arm. This may sting...”

He dropped the thick, clear liquid onto her wounds. She winced. “Look,” he said. The bleeding stopped and the wounds began to close. “It does work. I think you should wrap your arm -- keep that area compressed until it starts healing. Is there some bandage gauze anywhere here?”

The girl returned with a spool of lightweight cloth. “This will do,” Nyk said and wrapped her forearm. “There -- does that feel better?”

She nodded. “Yes ... thanks...”

“Oh, you CAN speak. I was beginning to think your ilk were mute.” She looked away and stifled a giggle. “You're Three-eight-six?”

“Yes...”

“I'm Nykkyo.”

“Nykkyo,” she replied.

“My friend is Andra.”

“...Andra...”

He tilted his head. “Don't you have another name? Something your friends call you?”

“Yes...”

“What is it?”

She looked at the floor. “Laida.”

“Laida ... I like that much better than Three-eight-six. Don't you?” She nodded. “Then, Laida -- come meet my friend Andra.”

Nyk sat across from Andra at the table while Laida prepared a meal. Andra nodded in her direction. “How old do you think she is?” she asked.

“Eighteen to twenty Earth years -- twenty-two to twenty-five Floran. She's a pretty girl.”

Andra nodded in agreement.

Laida set two plates before them. “Stir-fried pomma with herbs.”

“It smells very good,” Andra said.

“Is there anything else?” Laida asked.

Nyk looked at Andra and shook his head. “I don't think so, Laida.”

“Then excuse me -- I must go feed. I'll be back to clear your table.”

“Laida,” Andra said, “why don't you bring your meal in here?”

“May I?”

“Certainly,” Nyk replied.

Laida returned with a large bowl mounded with a pinkish-brown paste. She sat on the floor, cross-legged, in a corner, holding the bowl between her knees and began eating the paste with a spoon.

“No, Laida,” Andra said. “Sit here at the table with us.” She patted an empty chair.

Laida set her bowl on the table and pulled up a chair.

“What is that you're eating?” Nyk asked.

“It's our food.”

“How does it come?”

“I don't understand.”

“Where does this come from?”

“From a can.”

“May I taste?” He scooped a bit with his fingertip and licked it. “Salty... Laida, do you like this?”

“It doesn't matter if I like it or not -- I must feed.”

“When was your last meal?”

“Three days ago.” She continued to wolf down the paste.

“You don't get hungry between meals?”

“No.” Laida scraped the last of the paste from the bowl, then dropped in the spoon. She reached up, locked her fingers behind her neck and stretched. Nyk noticed her skin bulging below her right ribcage. She pressed her hand there. “A full stomach is an agreeable sensation,” she said. “Do you concur?”

“I certainly do. I enjoy that sensation three times a day -- not once every three days.”

Laida rubbed her biceps. “I must get sun tomorrow -- I haven't had much today.”

“Laida,” Andra asked, “what happens if you don't get sun?”

“We get sick and die,” she replied, “though that takes a long time. I feel sunstarved after two or three days in the shade. It's not an agreeable sensation.”

“Then what?” Nyk asked.

“After a few more days, torpor sets in.”

“Unconsciousness?” Nyk asked.

“No -- torpor. We don't loose consciousness, but it becomes more and more difficult to move.”

“Paralysis,” Nyk offered.

“More like that.”

“Then what?”

“After another ten days or so, unconsciousness and then we die. That's assuming we're only sunstarved. Without water, we die quicker.” She rubbed her arms again. “I feel sun- hunger now. Maybe tomorrow while you're at your meetings, Mr Alvo will let me tend the garden -- pull weeds -- and have my sun.”

“How about just lying out in it?” Andra asked.

“We must keep busy. We prefer to keep busy.”

Nyk stood and retrieved something from his case. “Here -- try eating this.”

“What is it?”

“It's a sweet snack wafer.”

She bit into the wafer. “An agreeable flavor...” She chewed and swallowed it.

“Have another.”

Laida held her hand against her abdomen. “I have an odd sensation in my stomach.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“No ... odd ... but the sun-hunger is fading.”

“You needed sugar,” Nyk said.

“We can't digest sugar.”

“Perhaps you can't digest sucrose. There are many kinds of sugar. Laida -- the chloroplasts in your skin create glucose -- the same sugar in those wafers. Your body doesn't need to digest glucose -- simply absorb it -- which your stomach seems able to do.”

“I am feeling better. Let me clear the table.”

Andra followed Nyk into the living room and sat beside him on a sofa. “We can't be party to this,” she said. “We must inform Kronta of what's going on here.”

“Suppose the HL is fully aware of the novonids? We have given other colonies wide latitude in establishing their own cultures.

“No, Nyk. Think of what might come if novonids were introduced onto a colony that already has a high unemployment rate -- one like Altia or T-Delta.”

Laida approached them. “Do you need anything else?” she asked.

“Yes,” Nyk replied. “Some companionship.”

She paused. “I must pass your request to Mr Alvo. He would be the one to locate companions for you.”

“Your companionship, Laida. Come sit and talk with us.”

She shook her head. “I've already done more than I should...”

“Alvo said you were to satisfy our needs,” Andra said. “We need to talk with you.” Laida sat in a chair. Her yellow-orange eyes shifted between Nyk and Andra.

“Will you spend the rest of your life working here?” Nyk asked.

“No. When I'm of age, I'll return to my breeder. A novonid female is expected to bear at least ten children -- mostly males.”

“You must be close to age,” Nyk observed.

“Yes -- in a year. She tells me she thinks I'd make some beautiful children.”

“No doubt she's right,” Nyk replied. “Are you looking forward to it?”

“I'm dreading it, actually. I've helped her with births.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “It scares me thinking of it.”

“What happens to unwanted female infants?” Andra asked. “Are they killed?”

“No. There are none -- they aren't implanted.”

Nyk looked toward Andra. “In vitro fertilization. Why waste a pregnancy?”

“No, not in vitro,” Laida replied. “They can screen the sperm.”

“Then, what happens?” Andra asked.

“Older women spend several years as wet nurses, feeding other infants. Many are leased as wet nurses.”

“To white families?” Nyk asked.

“Yes, and to maternity hospitals and infant care centers. Our milk is suitable for white children -- better for them, some say.”

Andra glanced at Nyk and raised her eyebrows. “It appears your domestic animal analogy is the correct one,” she whispered in Lingwa. “They also serve as dairy cattle.”

“What do you know of dairy cattle?” he whispered in return.

“I spent time on Earth -- remember? If this society wasn't so strongly vegetarian, I would bet they'd be slaughtered for food, too.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” he retorted.

“Still, I wonder if this particular use was intentional.”

“More likely,” Nyk replied, “a lucky accident.”

“Lucky,” Andra snorted. “Lucky indeed!”

Laida's gaze shifted between them. “I don't understand. Maybe if you speak slowly...”

“Oh, Laida -- I'm terribly sorry,” Andra replied in accented Varadan. “It was rude of us.”

“We were speculating,” Nyk added, “on whether or not a novonid's ability to nurse human infants was ... built into your species by the genetic designers.”

Laida's lips formed an O. “I can't answer that -- I don't know.”

“It must be terribly demeaning, either way,” Andra said.

“No,” Laida replied. “It's work I wouldn't mind doing.”

“Do you mean you aspire to...”

“I didn't say that. Compared to some of the work we do -- being a wet nurse is a comfortable job.”

“What will become of you in old age?”

Laida shook her head. “I don't know.”

“What about your owner?” Andra asked. “Does she sell the older ones? Give them away?”

Laida shook her head. “There are no older ones.”

Nyk looked toward Andra. “It must be she hasn't been in the business long enough for it to be an issue.”

“Yes, that's right,” Laida replied.

“Laida, do you enjoy the life you lead?” Nyk asked.

“Enjoy? What do you mean?”

“Do you find,” Andra replied, “serving guests for Alvo to be agreeable?”

“Agreeable, yes.” She looked into Nyk's eyes. “Please... no more of this. Mr Alvo instructed me not to...”

“We don't want to get you into trouble with your boss,” Nyk replied.

“Then, I'll go. I'll return to prepare your morning meal.”

“We must be up early to meet with Prefect Ogan.”

“You are meeting with Prefect Ogan?” Laida asked.

“Yes. First thing in the morning.”

“I'll be here to prepare your meal.”

Morning light streamed into the wide window overlooking the Varadan capital. Nyk paced in the guest apartment. Andra emerged from the bathroom pulling her fingers through her wet hair. “I had a conversation with Kronta while you were in the shower,” he said. “I informed him of the situation here.”

“What did Kronta say?”

“He said the decision to proceed with normalization rests with Tomyka. She's not due here for two more days.”

“Is that it?”

“No. He gave us the go-ahead to gather more intelligence.”

“He doesn't fully trust Tomyka, either,” Andra mused.

“He trusts her,” Nyk replied, “in his own words, as far as he could hand-maneuver an ExoScout. He did think one thing was odd, though... Neither of us understand why we would resurrect a discarded comm relay rather than obtain a new one from the Communications Corps.”

“This one works well enough, doesn't it?”

“Indeed -- thanks to your friend Zane.” The doorchime sounded. Nyk stepped to the door and admitted Laida. “Good morning,” he said.

“I shall prepare your food.” She headed into the kitchen.

Andra joined Nyk at the table. Laida set before them plates with biscuits smeared with the same sweet syrup Ogan had served for dessert the prior day. Then she brought mugs of a hot beverage.

“These are pomma biscuits?” Nyk asked.

“Yes,” Laida replied.

“Is this drink also made from pomma?”

“Yes -- the kernels are roasted and ground, then steeped in boiling water.”

“It's very good.” He looked up at her. “Laida