THE LOST COLONY Page 13

  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. 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 -- and you certainly did get on the wrong one.”

  “I found myself lost and it was after curfew. A novonid family sheltered me.”

  “The constables have told me that story. Do you remember names?” Ogan paced more. “Mr Kyhana, if you could name names...”

  “I know their names.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I refuse.”

  “Why?”

  “Because their daughter is unregistered. I wouldn't want any harm to come to her.”

  “You were staying with unregistered novonids?”

  “Just the daughter was unregistered. They will register her -- when they can afford it.”

  “And, you expect me to believe this story? The constables have a different theory as to what you were doing.”

  “Which is?”

  “They are prepared to charge you with solicitation. It's what I suspected all along.”

  “Solicitation of what?” Realization dawned in his mind like the Floran sun. “Prostitution? There's no way, Prefect.”

  “Solicitation is a very serious crime here, Mr Kyhana. The only way to eliminate prostitution is to eliminate the customers. Those convicted serve long stretches of prison time. I should've known there was a reason you were inquiring about a novonid sex industry...”

  “No, Prefect -- that was my own curiosity.”

  “...and spy holes in the females' cabins. I hope not ALL Florans show such a prurient interest in sex. Nonetheless...” Ogan began stood and faced away from Nyk. “Mr Kyhana -- the corner where you were picked up is one frequented by Green Zone prostitutes and their procurers. You were seen on a security cam handing currency over to a street thug. The one attempting to use you as a human shield was well-known in these parts as a procurer. We have the video...”

  “Then, you should also have video of me being threatened by that same street thug holding a very sharp instrument. No, Prefect. I am not interested in Varadan prostitutes -- of either color.”

  Ogan shook his head. “I wish I could believe you.”

  “Prefect -- why would any man in his right mind want to engage in random, anonymous, impersonal sex with a novonid when he has an eager and willing partner ... who looks like Andra Baxa?”

  Ogan regarded him through narrowed eyes. “I'll give you benefit of the doubt ... strictly to maintain a cordial, interplanetary relationship, mind you.” He touched the intercom. “He wasn't soliciting. He was being mugged. I'll vouch for him.”

  The Prefect led Nyk to his car and gave the driver the address of the guest house. “In the future, Mr Kyhana -- please refrain from these nocturnal walkabouts.”

  “Believe me, Prefect -- I have learned my lesson.”

  “I should hope so.”

  “I hope my absence didn't inconvenience the negotiations.”

  “We called a recess. It's fortunate you surfaced today, so we can resume them tomorrow. Otherwise, I don't know what we would've told the envoy.”

  “You didn't tell Tomyka I was missing?”

  Ogan looked down his nose at Nyk. “Your assistant insisted we contrive a likely explanation for your absence. It wasn't an action I was comfortable doing, but I agreed ... this time.”

  “There won't be another time, Prefect. I promise.”

  * * *

  “Nyk -- what were you doing?” Andra asked him. “Why did you take all our scrip?”

  “Are YOU going to interrogate me, too?”

  “Don't you think I deserve an explanation? I was so worried when you didn't return overnight. Ogan called and said you were arrested for solicitation. He told me he suspected you had contracted a case of Green Fever.”

  “What is Green Fever?”

  “You know what it is.”

  Nyk nodded. “I think I can figure it out. Ogan accused me of it to my face. No, Andra. I was not patronizing any novonid prostitutes.”

  “Then, where were you all day?” She looked at him. “What did you get all over you? Mud?”

  “No -- novonid blood and brains.”

  Andra's jaw dropped. “You had better tell me the whole story.”

  “Last night I kept thinking of Laida. I couldn't concentrate on my work, so I hired a livery and went over to Ramina's to see if she knew anything.”

  “Does she?”

  He shook his head. “No. When I was done there, all the liveries in that sector had been called off the streets, so I decided to take a streetcar home -- like we did the other night. While I was on the bus I saw a girl who I thought was she. I tried to follow her. She ran from me, tripped and fell. I caught up with her...”

  “And, it wasn't Laida.”

  “Right. She was unregistered. We were on the perimeter of some novonid ghetto the city created for them. They patrol this perimeter with remotely controlled cameras and guns. She had sprained her ankle and couldn't walk. I knew what her fate would be if she fell into the hands of the authorities, so I helped her to her home.”

  “Her home?”

  “The city has turned a sector over to the novonids -- a sector of old, decaying buildings. They make their homes there, without power or running water. They do what comes naturally.”

  “Which is?”

  A tear ran down his face. “They form families. They love and support each other. They find joy in the simplest things. By the time we reached her home, it was past curfew. Her family offered me what hospitality they could. I gave them all our scrip, save one card for car fare here.

  “This morning, her parents went to find food for me. Apparently, novonids purchasing pomma bread with freshly-minted scrip is considered a suspicious activity. They spent the day being interrogated. By the time they got home, it was night again. Grott -- he's the stepfather -- led me through a labyrinth of tunnels back outside the perimeter.

  “I was waiting for the bus when I got mugged by a gang of novonid street thugs. One of their pylon cameras caught it. They shot the guy who was attacking me, and they took me into custody.”

  “From the sound of it, you have had a busy day.”

  “Ogan told me you gave some excuse to Tomyka for my ... indisposal.”

  “Yes -- I told him to tell her you had over-imbibed in pomma beer...”

  “And that I had a hangover. Andra -- couldn't you come up with a better...”

  “It was a far sight better than Ogan's theory to where you were.”

  “I suppose it was... I convinced Ogan I had no carnal interest in novonids. The authorities released me on his voucher.”

  “Nykkyo -- we were so worried. How could you have done something like this?”

  “It's what Seymor says -- I let my emotional involvement in Laida cloud my common sense.”

  “You could've told me where you were going -- left a note or something. We had no idea where to start looking. I was so worried.”

  “I fucked up -- plain and simple.”

  “Nyk -- it could've cost you your life!”

  “I know -- I know...” He looked up at her. “Suki used to get mad at me like this...” Andra shook her head. “It was worth it. My attitude was in a serious need of adjustment, and I got it adjusted. The novonid issue is more complex than the Varadans want us to believe -- far more complex. I wish you could've seen it, Andra.”


  “No doubt there are many ways novonids are being exploited. This is just a foretaste of what's in store if novonids are the commodity Varada intends to export...”

  “That's another thing. The novonids indeed believe THEY're the reason Floran wants to normalize relations with Varada. It's a rumor I've heard from several sources.” He shook his head. “All this from looking for information on Laida. I'm even more worried for her, now.”

  “What did Ramina say?”

  “Ramina doesn't believe she was detained because of us. Laida did nothing improper -- even that visit to her breeding place was in no way actionable.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I don't know what to believe. The reality of this society's treatment of novonids is so different from the picture Ogan painted. The whole thing makes me sick.” He paced around the apartment. “Ramina suspects foul play.”

  “I think we all agree on that,” Andra replied. “Why doesn't she go to the authorities?”

  “The authorities would be no help.”

  “But -- what motive?

  “I don't know. My mind runs the gamut from sexual assault to a hate crime...”

  “Hate crime?”

  “You should hear the way the constables talk about them ... call them greenies. I believe there is a segment of this population capable of hate crimes against novonids...” He paced more. “Or, was it payback for befriending us? No doubt there are novonids who hate whites just as much.”

  “Don't abuse yourself, Nyk. Does Ramina think it's our fault?”

  “No...”

  “These sorts of things happen -- in ANY society. You can't blame yourself.”

  “... or maybe she was just saying that so I'll feel better.”

  “Come on, Nyk -- come to bed. It's late and we need to be at Ogan's office first thing tomorrow.”

  He undressed and climbed into bed beside her. She snuggled against him, reached across and drew herself tighter against him. He kissed her forehead. “So,” she asked, “how DID you convince Ogan you weren't soliciting?”

  “It was easy. I asked him what man in his right mind would want to patronize a novonid whore when he had a willing and eager ax'amfin.”