The Altian Plague - DM Arnold (reading tree .txt) 📗

pointed. “Dyppa, what are those?”

“Mineral containers. They're loaded with metal pigs -- iron, copper, aluminum. They're thrown into orbit by the mass drivers.”

“Mass drivers?”

“Giant maglev guns that can hurl a container into orbit.”

“You fill these containers with refined minerals and then fling them into space?”

“That's how it works.”

“And the freighters come by and load them?”

Dyppa nodded and pointed. “There's a freighter loading now.”

“I've never seen an interstellar freighter. That thing's huge!” He watched as pressure suited crewmen riding open cockpit tractors hooked onto boxcar sized containers and herded them into the hold. “The Freight Service is part of the ExoService, isn't it?”

“I believe so,” Dyppa replied. “During my stint as a pro skirt in Altropolis I'd say about a third of my customers were from freighter crews. They spend nearly all their time in space. When they make it to the surface on leave, they're ready for a good time.”

“Why's that? Certainly the freighters use warp jump technology.”

“I don't think they can safely subjump something that big, so they need to cruise sub-light to and from the heliopause.”

“What's one of those trips take -- ten days?”

“Longer for something that size.”

“Amazing.” He looked down to the surface of the planet. He could see mostly brown land, with a sea filling a basin between rugged snow-capped mountain ranges. Along the western coast he saw a range of active volcanoes, spewing glowing ash into the sky. He pointed again. “Is that Altropolis?”

“That's it.”

He regarded the domed city. “I thought Floran agridomes were big. They're tiny compared to that.”

“Five hundred million of us live there.”

“That's about the same as Floran City.”

“Nykkyo -- in Floran City... What do you do when you run out of room?”

“We push the edge of the city further out.”

“We can't do that in Altropolis. We can't enlarge the dome.”

“Why not make smaller, satellite domes?”

“It's too costly.”

“Why have the dome in the first place?”

“Our world's atmosphere is inhospitable.”

“Toxic?”

“Not exactly. It isn't poisonous, but you can't thrive in it either -- the oxygen content is too low. We can't enlarge the city. As the population grows, it becomes more crowded. We have sectors in which whole families live in homes the size of the guest room of that house in Wisconsin.”

He continued to scan the planet. “No sign of vegetation at all. Altia must be a younger world even than Floran. What's that facility to the north of Altropolis -- the one with the silos?”

“It's the Altropolis air treatment plant,” she replied. “Oxygen is concentrated and carbon dioxide removed from the atmosphere inside the dome.

“I think I see a fusion power plant on the coast. What are those huge silos? Any one of them must be the size of a Floran agridome.”

“That's the terraforming facility.”

“Is it still in operation?”

“It's been off-line for two generations ... there aren't funds to make repairs. The hope was to improve the atmosphere so one day we won't need the domes. It'll never happen in my lifetime.”

“It won't happen at all if they're left to deteriorate...” Nyk pointed toward other, smaller domes further inland. “Are those smaller cities and towns?”

“Those are the smelting plants. Factory towns are built around them.”

“Where are the mining communities?”

“They're deep underground. The miners spend their whole lives in the depths, living in subterranean communities.”

“A man could go crazy in that environment,” he said. “I know I would. I hate being cooped up. I have to see the sky once in a while.”

“Altian miners don't. Mining communities are so tightly closed, the miners have developed their own physical characteristics. They have white hair, light skin and pale blue eyes.”

“You mean like an ax'amfin.”

“But, they're not tall like the ax'amfinen. The men are short, but powerfully built. The women are ... underdeveloped.”

“You mean here on Altia a sub-race of troglodyte Florans has evolved?”

“That's right,” she replied.

“I shouldn't be surprised. I saw such a race had evolved on Lexal.”

“What race is that?”

“The Abo.”

“I've never heard of them,” Dyppa replied.

“Few have... I imagine the miners are one rung below the ore-workers on the social ladder.”

“Oh, no. Ore-workers are on the bottom because there are always more applicants for ore work than vacancies. The miners are highly regarded and are well cared for. They're content in their underground cities. I'd guess they make up about thirty percent of the Altian population. You rarely see miner men, except perhaps for delegates to the New Altian Senate. You do see the women from time to time. They're favored in Altropolis as prostitutes.”

“Why?”

“Because they look underage. A miner woman won't develop female features until her first pregnancy...”

“Do you mean features like ... breasts?” Nyk interrupted.

“Exactly,” Dyppa replied. “You can always recognize a miner mom. Childless ones appear pre-pubescent into old age. There was one who worked out of the same hostel as I. She was at least ten standard years older -- not only was she past the age of consent, but the age of majority, too. And, she was legal, unlike me. She looked younger than I did. She also made more.”

“Are there many prostitutes in Altropolis?”

“It's a major industry there. It's the only one that draws in offworlders.”

“Sex is so free in Floran's society I'm surprised there's a demand at all.”

“You have to realize, Nyk -- an Altian whore's customers fall into two categories. Either they're so old or undesirable no one wants them, or they're perverts looking for something too far from the mainstream.”

“Do you mean ... something like a child?”

“For example.”

He looked at her and his upper lip curled. “Oh, Dyppa -- I feel so sorry for you.”

“It's all right, Nyk. It was only a job and it didn't kill me.”

A chime indicated the shuttle had docked with the packet. “It's time to head to the surface,” he said. He took Dyppa's hand and walked with her through the tunnel and onto the shuttle.

The shuttle landed outside the city's dome, rolled to a stop and docked with a boarding tunnel. “Are you okay?” Nyk asked her.

She nodded. “It wasn't as bad as I anticipated.”

“Maybe you're becoming accustomed to it.”

“Maybe.” He followed her through the docking tunnel. “This way,” Dyppa said and led Nyk into the Altropolis shuttleport. “The tubecar is over here.”

Nyk looked at his handheld vidisplay. “We're due at Security Force headquarters.” He ordered a car, specified the destination and climbed in. Dyppa sat beside him. “Car, go.”

The car slid into a tube leading above and across the city. He looked down. The street level appeared to be a single, seething mass of humanity. Elevated, mechanized walkways linked buildings. These, too, were packed. “So many people,” he exclaimed. He looked up through the tube to the roof of the dome. One Altian sun -- the distant, white giant -- blazed overhead while the smaller, yellow one around which the planet revolved was halfway to the zenith in the east. “This dome looks smaller from the inside.”

“How would you say Altropolis compares, size-wise with Floran City?” Dyppa asked.

“Smaller.”

“One tenth the land area,” she replied.

“And, a comparable population. The population density here is...”

“Ten times that of Floran City.”

“I thought Floran City was crowded.” Nyk shook his head. “I'm beginning to appreciate the difficulties this colony faces.”

“Most of our oppressors have never taken the trouble to visit and see our world with their own eyes.”

“Dyppa -- can we agree that I, personally, am not oppressing, nor ever have oppressed you, personally?”

She looked at his face for a long moment. “...agreed.”

“I understand what you're saying. The HL approach is out of sight, out of mind. It's enough to turn me into an activist.”

Dyppa smiled and kissed his cheek.

The tubecar arrived at the platform for security headquarters. Nyk looked down and saw open skimmers loaded with officers carrying long arms. He gave Dyppa a hand. “I'm scared,” she said.

“I've been through this. You'll be all right. Remember -- relax and let the drug take you. They'll need a lighter dose and you'll recover faster.”

He led her to a reception area. He scanned his wrist on the scanpad by the door. The display lit up with number 535. Dyppa pointed to an overhead display reading 498. “Thirty seven ahead of us,” she said. “It's a light day.”

“You have to take a number to see a policeman here?”

“You have to take a number to do anything here,” she replied. “Waiting on line is the Altian national pastime.

He watched the overhead display as the numbers ticked up. In the lobby the crowd was growing thicker, its hub-bub getting louder. The overhead display advanced to 535. He gestured her toward an officer sitting behind a transparent screen. “Dyppa Hawryt here for interrogation,” he said.

“Is that you?”

“It's she,” he said gesturing.

“Wristscans please.”

Nyk scanned his wrist and Dyppa followed. The officer scowled as he regarded the display. “Someone will be with you shortly. You can wait over there.”

Nyk headed toward another waiting area and looked around. The place was making his flesh crawl. An officer in a helmet and carrying a stun wand approached. “Dyppa Hawryt?” She nodded. “This way.”

Nyk started to follow but the officer blocked his way with his wand. “You can see her after the procedure.” He pointed with the wand. “The waiting area is over there.”

He sat in a hard chair, locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back. The chair seat and back were made of aluminum. In short order his buttocks ached. He tried twisting and turning -- there was no way he could be comfortable. Instead, he stood and paced laps around the waiting area.

An officer approached him. “Are you Dyppa Hawryt's escort?” He nodded. “I'm Captain Sirk. We're done with her interrogation.”

“Did you learn anything?”

The officer shook his head. “It was worth the try.” He handed Nyk a polycard. “Here's my locator code -- in case you need to be in touch.”

“Does she know Manrei Lom?”

The captain nodded. “Knew is the correct word. She's been out of contact with him for several years. Again -- no help.” He gestured. “Follow me and you can be with her as she comes out of the drug.”

Nyk followed him down a corridor lined with interrogation rooms. The officer scanned his wrist and the door to one slid open. Dyppa was lying on her side on a pallet. Electrodes were attached to her scalp and chest. She was alternately crying and vomiting.

An attendant sat beside her, caressing her shoulder. “She's a dreamer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some people experience dreams as they emerge from the drug trance. She's having bad ones.”

Nyk knelt down and took her hand. “Dyppa -- it's Nyk.”

“Keep her on her side,” the attendant said. “If she starts vomiting again, point her face downward so she won't choke. She's still only semi- conscious.”

“How much drug did they use?” he asked.

“They always use the maximum safe dose.”

Dyppa's mouth opened. Nyk directed her face downward and she retched. Her eyes opened and darted around the room. She screamed.

“Dreams,” the attendant said. “Bad ones. This phase will pass. She won't remember them.”

She began crying again. Nyk took her hand. “Dyppa ... Dyppa ... Dyppa, it's Nyk.”

Her eyes began to focus. “Nyk...” She clenched his hand in a white- knuckled grip. “Nyk ... oh, it was so terrible.” She blubbered. “Tentacles were boring into my head and taking my thoughts ... my memories. When my thoughts are gone I'll be dead.” She wailed.

Nyk cradled her head in his lap and caressed her hair. “It's over, Dyppa. It's only a dream.”

“Dream?”

“Only a dream. Say it -- only a dream.”

“Only a dream?”

“No tentacles -- just a dream.”

Her eyes danced around the room. “Spinning,” she said.

“I know. Close your eyes.”

“Hold me or I'll fall.”

“You'll be fine.” He looked toward the attendant. “How about a sedative?”

“Let's see if we can give her one.” She checked a brainwave monitor. “Almost -- she's almost there.”

Her eyes popped open. “Close your eyes.”

“No -- when I close them I see tentacles.” She grabbed Nyk. “They're coming after me again!” Dyppa sat up on the pallet and held onto the fabric of his tunic.

“Here you go, dear,” the attendant said and approached with an injector.

Dyppa shrieked. “NO! NO! No more drugs!” She jumped off the pallet and staggered backward.

“This is something to help you sleep,” the attendant said.

Dyppa screamed again. “If I sleep -- they'll get me!”

“Hold her,” the attendant said. Nyk put his arms around Dyppa's waist. She looked into his face and he read hurt and betrayal in her eyes. He lifted her feet off the floor and she began swinging her legs and flailing her arms.

“No more drugs!” she screeched.

“Keep her off the floor,” the attendant said. “Hold her and I'll get this into her.”

Dyppa began kicking, driving her elbows into Nyk's ribs and pounding his forearms with her fists. The attendant pulled off the needle guard and grabbed her knee. “Lift the hem of her gown.”

Nyk pulled on the fabric and