THE LOST COLONY

by D M Arnold

  He scanned a row of pomma plants, extending to his left and his right to the horizon. That row was replicated over and over again to the vanishing point. He grasped a seed head and began stripping kernels. An older novonid worker approached him. “Pick the tassels off first,” he said. “Pick the whole plant clean. Then, harvest the kernels. Watch...” The fieldworker cupped his hand around a seed head, closed it into a fist and opened it again. He dumped a handful of kernels into his pouch.

  Nyk followed the fieldhand's lead, plucking tassels and grasping the seed heads and dropping kernels into his pouch. He stepped to the next plant and deposited the harvested kernels. He looked down -- his pouch had grown to the size of a golf bag.

  The fieldworker measured the sun's distance to the horizon by holding two fingers at arm's length. He reached into a pocket, withdrew a whistle and blew it. Nyk dragged his bag of pomma to the collection station and dumped it into the hopper.

  A turbine's whine approached and an open bus stopped. Other fieldworkers climbed aboard. Nyk followed them and stood as the vehicle headed from the field and toward a cluster of low buildings. It stopped near a clearing. An overseer sat at a table. Behind him was a board. Pegs held keys of different shapes and colors.

  The overseer opened a large ledger-book. “Seven-two-three,” he called out. The older man who had helped him harvest stepped forward. “Number one.”

  An assistant overseer took a key from the board and handed it to the man. He headed toward another cluster of buildings.

  “Three-five-three,” the overseer called out. Nyk looked around. “Three-five-three!”

  One of the other workers jabbed Nyk's ribs with his elbow. He looked again at the number on his chest and realized it was he.

  “Three-five-three... You're new here, but you are making the effort. You can have number two.” The assistant took a key from the board and handed it to Nyk. “Over there...”

  He examined the key. It was yellow and shaped like a triangle. Ahead was a cluster of small huts, and on each door was a colored shape. Nyk approached the door with a yellow triangle. He slipped the key into the lock and turned the knob.

  The door swung open onto a spacious waiting-room. A row of chairs were occupied by novonid men. Ahead was a desk and beyond the desk a doorway into an inner room. Behind the desk sat Suki.

  He closed his eyes, shook his head and opened them again. No -- it wasn't Suki, but a novonid version of her. Hers had the shape of Suki's face, with the pronounced epicanthic folds to her eyes.

  The inner door opened and a novonid man stepped out. The woman behind the desk motioned to the next one in line. He stepped into the room and the door closed.

  The door opened again. Novonid Suki gestured toward Nyk and he stepped into the room. He stood looking at a bed. Lying in it, under a sheet was Laida. He lay beside her, looked into her orange eyes and caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. She flung back the covers.

  Nyk gazed upon her naked body -- her smooth, green skin; her compact breasts and her long, slender legs. He kissed her shoulders, nuzzled her neck and smoothed both hands along her ribs and abdomen to her hips. With his thumbs he explored the shapes of her muscles.

  “Hurry,” she said. “The others are waiting.”

  “I'm not ready...”

  “Yes, you are...” She stripped his shorts from him and caressed the insides of his thighs. He felt himself becoming powerfully aroused. “Here,” she said, and handed him a plastic object. “Wear this. I'll show you how...”

  Laida unwrapped the sheath and slipped it onto him. Her green fingers wrapped around him in a firm, warm grasp. He felt pressure building deep in his pelvis -- a surge he was powerless to stop...

  Nyk gasped and opened his eyes. Andra lay beside him in the dark. He straightened the bedclothes and felt dampness against his abdomen. Oh, no... he thought. He stood and headed for the lavatory.

  * * *

  The sun's first rays fell across his eyes and waked Nyk. Andra lay beside him, her back to him. He kissed her shoulder. “Good morning,” he said.

  “Mmmph,” she replied, yawned and hoisted herself onto her elbows. “Nyk -- you were all over me last night. Do you remember?”

  “No... I'm sorry -- I was having a weird dream.”

  “Not to mention a wet one,” she replied. “I figured that's what it was.”

  “Oh, Andra -- I'm so, so sorry ... and, mortified.”

  “It's all right, Nyk. It's not something you can control. Don't be embarassed. I have those kinds of dreams, myself.”

  “You?”

  “Of course. Nearly everyone does. One of the advantages of being a woman is you can have a wet dream and no one notices.”

  “I suppose...”

  “Nyk -- I'm sorry I haven't been much of a bed partner the past few nights. I agreed to this assignment so you and I could be together. Instead, we seem to be at odds. I don't want us to be that way.”

  “Neither do I. Oh, Andra -- It's not you ... it's not your fault.”

  “I think there's something about this place.”

  “I think you're right about that.”

  “Do you remember your dream?”

  “Oh... no -- not much of it.”

  “Was I in it?”

  He pondered. “No -- I don't think you were.”

  “Hmm... I don't know if that's good or bad.”

  “For this dream -- it's a good thing.” He swung his feet to the floor. “Pomma brew for you?”

  “No thanks -- I don't know about you, but I'm sick and tired of pomma.”

  “To tire of pomma is to tire of living,” Nyk replied with a smile.

  “I'll never again complain of Floran food being monotonous. Pomma this and pomma that -- I think I have pomma kernels coming out of my ears.”

  “You're not sorry you came along on this adventure, are you?”

  “Nykkyo -- now that you mention it ... yes I am. I hate the food, I can't master the language...”

  “Are you still fussing over 'enlightening?'”

  “I do NOT fuss...”

  “You're not here as a linguist -- that's MY role. You're here as a diplomatic consultant.”

  “Then, why haven't you consulted me?”

  “I have.”

  “No you haven't. You haven't listened to a word I've said. I can't stand seeing how the novonids are mistreated here, and I'm beginning to loathe Ogan's smug face. There is no reason for us to be talking with these people. We'd be better off marking this corner of the galaxy 'Off Limits' and leaving them to their own devices.”

  He hugged her and kissed her forehead. “Andra, I love you. I don't want us to argue.”

  “If you saw things my way, we'd have nothing to argue.”

  “Andra, your concerns HAVE been noted. If it were in my power to call off negotiations, I would've called them off. Tomyka Wells has full responsibility for the outcome of these talks.”

  “Don't get me started on Tomyka Wells...”

  He kissed her again. “Each of us has a role to play. Now, I'm going to take my shower...”

  Nyk stepped from the shower into the living room and pulled on a pair of trousers. The doorchime sounded. He opened the door and admitted Laida. “Good morning,” he said.

  “I'll fix your breakfasts.”

  “No breakfast today,” Nyk replied. “We won't have time.”

  “What are you doing today?” she asked.

  “Our envoy arrives. We have briefing meetings and begin negotiations tomorrow.”

  “Then, you'll be leaving in a few days.”

  “I'd prefer to think we'll be staying for a few days,” he replied and approached her. “Thank you for taking us to visit Ramina last night.”

  “Thank you for asking me. I don't need much of an excuse. Those people are my family. I love them, and I feel happy there. Even my mother feels happy.”

  “With all the love -- no doubt. Laida -- you are enriching us with your company. Andra and I both
enjoy you very much.”

  She smiled. Nyk opened his arms and embraced her. She looked at him, her eyes brimming and stroked his shirt. “See -- it doesn't rub off.”

  “What?”

  “The green -- it doesn't rub off.” She bit her lower lip.

  “Laida, is something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “No one has ever hugged me -- except for Ms Ramina, of course -- no one has ever hugged me. They must fear it will rub off on them.”

  Nyk took her hand and held his beside hers. “Your palm and mine are almost the same color. Mine's a bit lighter...” He turned her hand over. “The green pigment is on the back of your hand -- not your palm.” He caressed her hand and forearm. “My wife's hands are like that.”

  “Really?”

  “She has yellow-brown skin, but her palms are almost as light as mine.”

  “Is she an artificial being, too?”

  He chuckled. “No -- she's an Asian.”

  “Asian? What's that?”

  “A variety of Earth human.” He pressed his palm against hers. “I think there's much more alike between us than differs...”

  “Nyk!” Andra called. “Our car is here.”

  “I'll clean your rooms,” Laida said, “and, I'll see you tonight. Good luck with your meetings.”

  Nyk looked out the window. “I don't see our car,” he said.

  “My mistake.” She looked at him. “Were you putting the moves on Laida?”

  “Moves? What moves?”

  “Don't feign innocence, Nyk. You know what I mean.”

  “I can't help it, Andra. When I'm fond of someone I express it physically.”

  “You remember what Ogan said about Varadan attitudes regarding the ... mingling of humans and novonids. For both your sakes, I think you should watch your step. And, I sensed you were making her uncomfortable. That's why I thought I had to break it up.”

  “Here's our car coming... I sure hope I didn't. Besides, it's part of gathering intelligence for Kronta. Everything I said to her was sincere. You know I'm not capable of insincerity.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Yes, Nyk -- that much I know.”

  “You're keeping me honest.”

  “I'm keeping you -- and Laida -- out of trouble. How would you feel if she were punished on account of your lack of self-control?”

  “I'd feel badly. You're right, Andra. The social roles here are rigidly defined. I'm beginning to chafe under them.

  “Are you? Really?”

  He glanced out the window. “Come on. Our car is waiting.”

  * * *

  The car deposited Nyk and Andra at the government office building housing Prefect Ogan's office. They were escorted into a conference room. Sitting at the table was a woman in late middle-age. “Tomyka,” Nyk said.

  “Nykkyo Kyhana and Andra Baxa... Again in person.”

  Nyk turned to the prefect's aide. “Please inform Prefect Ogan that we need to confer privately with Ms Wells before we get started.”

  “Certainly -- rap on the door when you're done.”

  Nyk turned toward Tomyka. “How was your journey?”

  She glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Cut to the point, Nykkyo.”

  “Tomyka,” Andra interjected, “we can not enter into normalization with these people.”

  “They have solved the stumbling block -- they have abolished involuntary servitude.”

  “The have replaced it with something far worse. They have created a species of artificial men and women...”

  “Are you referring to the novonids?” Tomyka interrupted.

  “Do you know about them?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Aren't you concerned with the precedent admitting such a society presents to the Floran hegemony?”

  Wells smiled. “Andra ... Nykkyo -- look at it this way... Why do the Varadans need novonids?”

  “To tend their crops.”

  “Exactly. Suppose we were to trade them some alternative staples -- wheat or rice, for example. Reducing their dependence on pomma would reduce their need for involuntary servitude.”

  “And, what happens to the displaced novonids?”

  “They would breed fewer of them -- the population would wither away. The change wouldn't happen overnight.”

  “And what,” Andra asked, “would the Varadans give in exchange for wheat or rice? What coin do they possess?”

  “That's my concern,” Nyk added. “I don't understand what they have to trade.”

  Wells let out a petulant sigh. “We are in the earliest stages of negotiations on normalization. We both have much to offer each other. For us to break off these talks because of ... of our sensibilities about the novonids would be as much a disservice as if they broke them off because of the Floran institution of ax'amfinen.” She glanced sideways at Andra. “We were sent here to do a job. Let's get to it.”

  * * *

  Nyk sat beside Andra as the car headed from the administration building, its turbine making a muffled whine. “Remind me,” Nyk said, “if I'm ever foolish enough again to accept a diplomatic assignment -- not to.”

  “What do you make of all this?” she asked in her native tongue.

  Nyk glanced into the front seat at the driver. “I don't get it,” he replied. “I don't understand why we're even negotiating with these people.”

  “I couldn't agree more.”

  “I mean -- the people seem nice enough...”

  “Nice? Nice people don't create a race and then enslave them.”

  “The novonids are a Varadan internal issue. Conceptually, I think it's a reasonable solution.”

  “Reasonable?”

  “It's one I might've come up with. And, it's not something they entered into lightly. When their last wheat crop failed, they rounded up the unemployed and forced them to harvest wild pomma. It was a matter of survival. From that developed their slave class; but even that lead to social instability. So, they developed the novonids. When the first novonids were put in the field, the slave class revolted...”

  “... Because now THEY were being put out of work...”

  “Exactly. After five hundred years... FIVE HUNDRED YEARS, Andra -- the novonids are part of the cultural landscape here. They don't bother me nearly as much as they seem to bother you.”

  “Then, what does bother you?” she asked.

  “Two things. I can't figure out what Floran gets in the bargain. The trade seems entirely one-way. There is nothing the Varadans can offer that's of value. Their technology is primitive and we have no need for their consumer products. Our mining colonies, such as Altia, produce minerals in abundance.”

  “Including some absent here.”

  “Exactly. Trade between Floran and Varada makes as much sense as trade between Floran and Earth. Varada looks like Earth plus two hundred years.”

  “Maybe it's a dry run for when we can make contact with Earth -- after the Centauri mission,” Andra suggested. “They can offer us pomma.”

  “No, they can't. Their pomma production is calculated to produce only what they can use plus a small tactical contingency.”

  “That leaves one commodity,” she said. “a green one.”

  “That's ridiculous. They wouldn't dare ... we wouldn't dare.”

  “What's the other thing that bothers you?”

  “Tomyka Wells. I can't figure out how she got credentials to be an envoy for these sorts of talks.”

  The car stopped outside the guest house. Nyk gave the driver the two-finger Floran salute and escorted Andra inside. He unlocked the door. The apartment was empty.

  “Looks like Laida cleaned the rooms,” Andra said.

  “Yes -- they're spotless...” He looked out a window at the Varadan sun settling below the western horizon. “I'm surprised she isn't here fixing dinner for us.”

  “Are you becoming accustom to having a cook?” Andra asked.

  “No, but I have become accustomed to having Laida here.”

 
He pressed the call panel. He pressed it again. A rap came at the door. Nyk opened it and saw a young novonid male. “Yes?”

  “Where's Laida?”

  “Who?”

  “Laida -- Three-eight-six. Where is she?” He shrugged. “Have Alvo come up.”

  “Right away.”

  Nyk paced the apartment. Another rap came at the door and Alvo entered. “Is there a problem?”

  “Alvo -- where's Laida?”

  “Who?”

  “Three-eight-six. Where is she?”

  “Missing. She apparently wandered off during the day. I'll be speaking with her keeper about this. I don't pay for this sort of dereliction of duty.”

  “It wouldn't be like her to ... wander off,” Nyk replied.

  “How do you know what would or would not be in her nature?” Alvo replied. “Let me give you some advice, Mr Kyhana... Social fraternization with novonids is frowned upon here -- in some cases to the point of being a criminal offense. Since you are outsiders, take heed. You will do your cause well not to express too much concern for the whereabouts of Three- eight-six ... or any other novonid for that matter.” He turned and left.

  Nyk looked at Andra, slack-jawed. “Oh, Andra -- I hope we didn't get Laida into trouble by being friendly with her.”

  “I hope not, too. But -- I fear we might've.”

  9 -- The Green Zone

  “Six days of this nonsense, Illya.” Nyk spoke to Kronta through his handheld vidisplay. “Tomyka and Ogan have spent the past six days dithering back and forth on two paragraphs of the agreement. Today, I swear she insisted on reverting to phrasing we discarded two days ago. I'm mentally exhausted from it.”

  “This is the nature of diplomacy,” Kronta replied.

  “It's ridiculous -- and so agonizingly slow. I'd understand it if this were a final treaty, but it's only a letter of intent to begin the process of considering normalization. They should've been able to knock it out in half a day.”

  “You're doing a man's job, there Nyk. Keep up the good work.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And, I appreciate the detailed reports on the novonids. There are many in the High Legislature deeply concerned about that institution. Keep me posted.”