THE LOST COLONY

by D M Arnold

  “This is unacceptable,” the prosecutor retorted. “How are we to know if the questions are being translated or if the subject is being coached?”

  “Yes, how?” asked the referee.

  “If it would please,” Morsk replied, “we can have the interpreter come forward and perform her task aloud. I had thought the communicator would expedite the examination process.”

  “I still object,” the prosecutor replied. “Since none of us speaks Varadan, how would we know if the translation is unbiased? We have no precedent for a witness to be questioned in a private language. If this ... being ... is to be questioned, let it be in Lingwafloran.”

  The referee nodded. “The objection is sustained. Please dispense with the communicator.”

  Morsk approached Laida and took the earpiece from her.

  Nyk stood. “This is terribly unfair. You have put her to a disadvantage, not knowing our language. How would you...”

  The referee pressed a control and a gong sounded. “Mr Kyhana, you are out of order. Sit and be silent.”

  Nyk sat, folded his arms and glowered at the referee.

  “Laida,” Morsk said. “Can you understand our tongue at all?”

  She looked at him blankly. “Slowly, please,” she replied. Morsk repeated the question. “Some ... little.”

  “Do you know how to read?”

  “... yes...”

  Morsk presented a handheld vidisplay. “Can you read this?”

  Laida looked at it and shook her head. “...no...”

  “Why not?”

  “...not ... Varadan.”

  “You can't read Lingwa. Can you read Varadan?”

  “Yes...”

  Morsk took the display and poked it. “Can you read this?” He handed it to her.

  Laida's eyes brightened. “Yes... this Varadan.”

  “Then, read it.”

  Laida's eyes began to scan the screen.

  “No -- aloud. Speak the words.”

  She licked her lips, took a deep breath and began reading. Nyk sat back and let the words wash over him -- a mellifluous stream of the music of language. He could understand what she read but preferred instead to enjoy the melody of her voice.

  She completed the passage and looked up. “That was beautiful, Laida,” Morsk said, picking up the vidisplay. He turned to the judges. “Does anyone recognize that passage?” He looked around the hearing room. “That was the first four paragraphs of Red Dawn, Red Dusk, chapter four -- rendered in the original Old Lingwa. How many here can read Old Lingwa? How many have heard it spoken? How many have appreciated the beauty...”

  “I object,” said the prosecutor, standing. “The aesthetics of Old Lingwa are not an issue here.”

  “Language is the issue,” Morsk retorted. “Language and thought are joined at the hip. The pivotal question is whether the beings found on that scout are sentient, intelligent and free-willed -- whether they can think...”

  “I object again! A single individual cannot speak for the hundred others. By the defense's own admission many of them lack language skills of ANY sort.”

  “If one, single, intelligent, sentient, free-willed, thinking being was held on board that vessel against his or her will, the crime of kidnapping WAS committed.”

  “Overruled,” said the referee. “Counsel Morsk, please continue.”

  “We can't crawl inside another's skull. The only way we can evaluate the quality of another's thoughts is if the other communicates them to us. This ... witness does not have facility in our language. I felt the need to demonstrate ... it's ... facility in ... it's own.”

  “But -- you said this was Old Lingwa, not Varadan,” the referee noted.

  “The two are nearly indistinguishable.”

  “The initial objection is overruled. You may continue, Counsel Morsk.”

  Morsk looked at Laida and spoke deliberately. “Do you understand what you read?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Describe it to us -- tell us what it was.”

  She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “There is one ... Ponta. Ponta ... choice made...” She shook her head. “No -- Ponta choice make ... must make. Hard choice...”

  “Is Ponta a man or woman?”

  “I think ... woman.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Ponta think ... woman... as woman...”

  “Have you ever seen that passage before?”

  Laida shook her head. “...no...”

  “That's understandable. Red Dawn, Red Dusk wasn't written until after the Varada colony was abandoned. Please continue describing it.”

  Laida bit her lip and closed her eyes. “Ponta ... Ponta...”

  “It's frustrating, isn't it?”

  “What mean?”

  “You know WHAT you want to say ... but you don't know HOW to say it.”

  “...Yes...”

  “You want to describe this passage in which Ponta agonizes over which man she will marry...”

  “Objection!”

  “Overruled.”

  “...but you lack the vocabulary -- the words in Lingwa to do so.”

  “...yes...”

  “It makes you angry -- with yourself.”

  Her eyes began to fill. “...yes...”

  “Don't be. Laida, how long have you known Lingwafloran?”

  “I ... learn here.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  She rolled her eyes and counted on her fingers. “Eighteen days ... I think.”

  “You've learned this much Lingwafloran in eighteen days?”

  A tear ran down her cheek. “I try... I want ... learn more. I want talk ... you ... I ... I sick ... from ... from no sun...”

  “Since you can't describe it in Floran -- please do so in Varadan.”

  Laida drew in a breath, closed her eyes and began paraphrasing the passage. This time, Nyk concentrated on her words, and listened as she described a scene drummed into his and every other Floran's brains during their school years.

  Nyk heard a bell ring and looked toward the panel of judges. A blue light on the center desk was lit. The other four came on in quick succession.

  The referee rang her gong. “The panel has decided. We will recess while the finding is formulated.”

  * * *

  “This is terrible,” Nyk said as he paced. “I didn't even get a chance to give my testimony on the novonids.”

  Morsk had pulled a table near a bench. He sat, his feet on the table, his knees to his chest, his fingers tented and his forehead resting on his fingertips. “Nykkyo, you will have your opportunity in the box.”

  “What's taking them so long?”

  “It's a precedent-setting finding,” Kronta said.

  “What precedent? That the novonids are chattel? It's not fair! They used this language thing to put Laida at a disadvantage. She could barely answer a question!”

  “It's falling just about how I expected it would,” Morsk said from between his fingers. “If we needed your testimony, we'd be in much deeper trouble. Nykkyo -- how long did it take you to become fluent in Varadan?”

  “A few days of speaking it.”

  “But,” Kronta replied, “you already knew Esperanto. Varadan, Old Lingwa and Esperanto are all similar.”

  “How long then,” Morsk asked without looking up, “did it take you to learn Esperanto?”

  “I ... I studied the written language for about three years. I learned to speak it with the Abo on Lexal. It was difficult for me at first...”

  “Three years... I happen to know one of our judges is an expert on Red Dawn, Red Dusk.” Morsk looked up. “Laida's linguistic feat will not be lost on her.”

  Nyk stopped and stared at Morsk. “That earpiece... You goaded them! You goaded them into forcing the language issue and then turned it against them.”

  “If these judges do not rule that Laida, and by extension all novonids are human beings for legal purposes -- then, there is no ho
pe for any of us.”

  16 -- Dome, Sweet Dome

  Nyk held Andra's hand as he climbed the spiral staircase of the Residence in Sudal. He spotted Suki, ran to her and threw his arms around her. “You're home!”

  “I came in on the morning packet, and I am exhausted. I don't know how long it's been since I've had sleep ... and I don't want to know.”

  “I'm well acquainted with the packet-lag phenomonon,” Nyk replied.

  “How did your hearing go?”

  Nyk and Andra held their left fists aloft. “The monitoring bands are gone, aren't they?”

  “What was the resolution?”

  “There were two issues. The first one hinged on whether or not our cargo comprised people or things. If they were things, then our mutiny would not have been justified; however, if they were people, then we were right to take whatever action was necessary to prevent an illegal activity.”

  “And, the second?”

  “Whether or not the crew knew they were committing an illegal activity.”

  “In other words,” Suki replied, “fact and intent.”

  “You're becoming familiar with Floran law,” Nyk said. “Proving the novonids are thinking beings wasn't difficult. Our counsel put Laida in the box and she performed flawlessly. Once he had that victory, he had them trapped on the second issue.”

  “How so?” Suki asked.

  “Zane came to the rescue,” Andra interjected. “His testimony, augmented by truth drug, focused on the secrecy of bringing them aboard, and the fact Captain Hayt ordered ejecting the 501's cargo into space.”

  “In other words,” Suki replied, “the crew knew they were doing something wrong.”

  “Specifically,” Nyk said, “Captain Hayt knew HE was doing something wrong. Then, Morsk invoked the duty-of-care doctrine. Since the first officer and the rest went along with the captain, it meant either they were in on it, or they violated their duty-of-care. Every Floran has a duty-of-care to the law that supercedes any chain-of-command.”

  “They were damned either way.”

  “Kronta told me Morsk was good. I didn't realize how good. It was so simple, but the prosecution was blind-sided by it. The panel ruled four-to-one in our favor on the second issue. As soon as the ruling was delivered, the crew began to sing like canaries...”

  “What's a canary?” Andra asked.

  “...They fingered the group on Gamma-5 responsible, and the group on Gamma-5 have agreed to cooperate in identifying their counterparts on Varada. This cooperation has helped sooth tender feelings on the Varadan side. That, plus returning all the novonids except for Laida and Mos.”

  “Won't the novonids be executed there?” Suki asked.

  “They've been turned over to the BSS. The Varadans promise they'll review each case.”

  “What is a canary?” Andra repeated.

  “It's an Earth bird,” Suki replied.

  “Oh...”

  “Laida has been offered asylum here,” Nyk continued, “based on her fear of reprisal on her homeworld.”

  “And, Mos?”

  “Well... Mos killed one man and severely injured another. He'll have a separate hearing. Andra, Zane and I have all been exonerated.”

  Andra held up her thumb and forefinger. “They came this close to recommending Nyk and Zane receive commendations.”

  “They didn't,” Nyk added, “because we were simply exercising our duty-of-care.”

  “They couldn't reward you for doing something the others are being punished for not doing,” Suki observed.

  “They did find it in themselves to reward Zane -- with a promotion. Not for exercising his duty-of-care, but for bringing the 501 to safety.”

  “What will happen to the Gammans?” Suki asked.

  “Tomyka Wells is missing. Her courier left Varadan space when news of the seizing of the 501 reached there. So far, they've found no trace of her shuttle.”

  “Which means...”

  “Either she's gone underground, or her shuttle is lost in hyperspace. It's a dangerous approach to Varada, and even more dangerous on departure.”

  “On Gamma-5,” Andra added, “they've detained that colony's agricultural minister.”

  “So, Nykkyo -- now, are you headed home?” Suki asked.

  “Tomorrow. Tonight I have some unfinished business.”

  “With Laida?” Suki asked. “You want to do the amften thing with her, don't you.”

  “No ... no -- I just wanted to say good bye to her.”

  “Be honest, Nykkyo -- you want to do more than that.”

  “I am fond of her.”

  “You're a Floran. You don't need my permission.”

  “You're my wife. I'd like your approval.”

  “What I've said before holds -- I admire your taste in women. If you like Laida, I'm sure I would, too.”

  “I'm sure you would.”

  “I'm way too tired to think about lovemaking tonight, so go do the amften thing with Laida. Besides -- fair's fair. I've made a few amften, myself.”

  Nyk looked at her. “Really? Who?”

  “I'm not the sort to kiss and tell. You haven't named all YOUR amften.”

  “You know who they are.”

  “All of them? Are you sure?”

  “Men or women?” he asked. Suki smiled. “Suki, at least tell me if your amften are men or women.”

  “Nykkyo,” Andra said, “I do believe I'm seeing a tinge of jealousy.”

  “You know -- I think you're right,” Suki replied.

  “No ... no... I'm ... just ... curious.”

  Suki stepped to him, put her arms around his waist and kissed his cheek. “Both.”

  “Okay,” Nyk said. “Maybe I don't want to know more. We're all Florans here, after all. This IS a cherished tradition we're talking about.”

  “Nykkyo -- just go have your time with Laida. Kiss her for me, too. I'm going to bed.”

  * * *

  Nyk approached the agridome and walked through the airlock. He spotted Laida standing near a hydroponic bed of wheat sprouts. She was bare-foot, bare-chested and wearing a pair of white shorts.

  She looked up and waved. “Nykkyo!”

  “You're looking good.”

  “This light agrees with me.” She held out her arms.

  “You're very dark and green.”

  “You must tell me, Nykkyo. Are the other croptenders artificial beings?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Because they have brown skin, while other Florans are white.”

  “It's because of the artificial sunlight,” he replied. “All Florans would look that way if exposed to it. Croptenders are the only ones who spend much time under the lamps.”

  “That's right. You don't need sun to live.”

  “Too much sun is bad for us. That's why croptenders wear the big hats. Even still, they get enough sunlight to give them suntan.”

  She smiled. “Suntan... I get sungreen... This light is stronger even than on Varada.”

  “It's not too strong for you, is it?”

  “Oh no -- it feels very good. I like it. I've stored so much sunlight, I probably glow inside.”

  “You can store sunlight?” Nyk asked.

  “Certainly. Do you remember us talking of how a full stomach feels?”

  “Agreeable, yes...”

  “Being full of sunlight is an even more agreeable sensation. I feel I could go many days in the shade -- if I had to. I've never been this full of light. I love the feeling.”

  He scanned her body from head to foot. “Laida -- where do you store it?”

  She ran her hands along her ribcage. “Inside.”

  “But, how? Certainly not as fat deposits.”

  “No,” she replied. “We don't store fat -- we store sunlight.”

  “Where do you feel it?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “When you have a full stomach -- you feel it in your stomach. Where do you feel full of sunlight?”
/>
  “All over -- it feels all over good. Besides...” She pressed her hand below her right ribcage. “Your stomach might be full...” She pointed to her head. “...but your feelings are up here. There's no reason why you shouldn't feel a full stomach in your elbow or your toe, is there?”

  “I suppose one reason is so you won't keep putting more into it. An overly-full stomach can be quite a disagreeable sensation.”

  “I suppose...”

  “Can you be overly full of sunlight?”

  “No,” she replied. “Once I'm full, I'm full -- I can't store any more. The light still feels good on my skin. I love it. This is the best light I've ever had, and I feel so good in it.”

  “It must be very odd, being you,” he said. “To feel such a way about sunlight ... to savor it like a meal.”

  “I was thinking the same about you,” she replied. “How odd it must be to feel burned by the sun.”

  He watched her pluck material from the planting bed. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I'm culling the wheat sprouts. When I first did this, one of the other workers scolded me. I tried to explain that by culling, you give the remaining plants room to grow and they become stronger and more productive. So, they're letting me care for this bed my way -- to see if it works. It gives me something to do. I like to be busy in the sun.” She smiled. “I've been drinking the hydroponic nutrient broth.” She giggled. “That surprised them, too. Now, if I can only find some protein.”

  “Let's wander over here.” He directed her toward a canteen with tables and vending machines. He scanned his wrist and purchased a package. “This is soybean cheese. See how this feels in your stomach.”

  Laida opened the package and began eating. “Interesting -- agreeable.” She took another bite and pressed her hand on her abdomen. “Mmm... Do you have news?”

  “Your interpreter explained the panel's ruling on your status. Now, in the eyes of Floran law, you are human. No one in this hegemony may own, buy, sell, trade or lease you or any of your kind.”

  “Yes -- here, you and I are equals.”

  He shook his head. “No, Laida. I am not nor ever will be your equal. You are smarter, stronger and braver than I am. You and I are peers, and I am proud of it.”