Lise - DM Arnold (inspirational books to read TXT) 📗

head and stepped into her shorts. She slipped her feet into her sandals and walked past Rayla toward the steps.

“Where are you going?” Rayla asked.

“Out. I must meet with Thom.”

“The white man? Lise ... you just finished with Tagg, and now you have a liaison with this white man?”

“Not a liaison, mother. What do you think I am?”

“What about rounds? You haven't been on rounds but once. It's a responsibility.”

“That's right,” Grott added from his seat in the shadows.

“I can't believe you two want me to go on rounds.”

“It's a duty for women in the Zone,” Rayla replied. “It's a double duty for those of us who are infertile.”

“Thom is doing important work, and I'm part of it. You said so, yourself, Mother -- I'm no longer a child. I can come and go as I please.” Lise started up the steps to the courtyard.

“Be careful of curfew,” Rayla called after her.

Lise decided to take the shorter, and more dangerous route to her rendezvous spot. It wasn't very dark, yet, she figured. She exited a gate and passed the brothel, then through another gate in the wall enclosing the Zone. The street was deserted.

She crossed and walked a block to the corner where Thom had dropped her off. He wasn't there. Lise scanned the area, looking for signs of street thugs and establishing her situational awareness. She paced back and forth and glanced up at one of the constables' surveillance pylons. Its camera was trained on the Zone.

An older and dented green car pulled to a stop. The driver whistled. Lise crouched to look in the window. The driver held up a pair of yellow fivers. Lise shook her head.

“How much, then?” the driver asked. “You're a looker.”

“Sir,” she said politely, “I think you've made a mistake. I'm waiting here for a friend.” She pointed toward the corner. “There's an establishment over there that may be what you're looking for.”

The car's turbine whined and it sped from the corner. Lise fanned from her face the burnt alcohol fumes of its exhaust and resumed pacing. The sun was now almost completely below the horizon.

A red Drumm speedster pulled to a stop, its twin turbines making a dissonant whine. The passenger door popped open and Lise stepped inside.

“I'm sorry I'm late,” Thom said.

“You're not. We said sundown, and it's sundown.” Lise fastened her restraint.

Thom pushed the stick forward and the car moved away from the curb. They made it about half a block when he pulled to the curb and pressed his hand to his forehead.

“What's the matter?” Lise asked.

Thom gestured behind them with his thumb. She turned around and through the rear window saw a constable's car behind them. A second car screeched to a halt in front, blocking them.

A deputy pulled open the passenger door and another grabbed Lise's upper arm and hauled her from the car. He pulled both her arms back and held them in a lock. Lise squirmed. “Calm down you little green whore,” he sneered.

A third deputy felt down the front of Lise's shorts. He pulled his hand out, rubbing his thumb against his finger. “She's full of jizz all right.”

“She's a fast worker,” the first deputy replied. “It's hardly sundown and she's on her second or third trick.”

Thom slid back the car's cowl and another officer leaned against his door. “What's this all about?” Thom asked.

“Procurement ... solicitation. That corner is widely known as a pickup point for prostitutes. Your green ... friend was observed directing a customer to the brothel across the street in the Zone. The customer was an undercover agent.”

“We watched her come from the brothel across the street.”

“I did not,” Lise protested. “He propositioned me. I turned him down and merely pointed out a fact that's even more widely known than this corner!”

“Hold your tongue, green girl.”

Thom held his hands up in a gesture requesting calm.

“May I see your identification, sir?” the constable said.

“Certainly,” Thom replied. He reached into his pocket and with his thumb and forefinger withdrew a polymer wallet. From it he removed a holocard and handed it to the constable.

The officer examined it in the light from the rear cruiser's headlamps. “Chief....” he said.

The head constable took the card and examined it. He made a shrill whistle and a hand gesture toward his troops, meaning stop. “Lord Bromen... I didn't notice the emblem on your car. My apologies, Lord.”

Thom snapped his fingers and the officer returned the card. “Release the girl,” he demanded. “She's a friend of mine.”

“But, we just got done arresting her,” the deputy replied.

“Then,” Thom said in a voice of quiet authority, “you had better un-arrest her.” He turned to the head constable. “I can have your badges for this. I want your numbers. All of them.”

“We can make the procurement rap stick,” the deputy protested.

“Let her go,” the head cop ordered.

Lise sat in the passenger seat, pulled the door closed and rubbed her upper arm. “Are you all right?” Thom asked.

She trembled. “I will be once I calm down.”

The chief constable handed Thom a sheet torn from a notepad. Thom scanned it and then glanced at the deputies. “Is your number on here, too?” he asked the head cop.

The cop handed him a card. “Again, my apologies, Lord Bromen ... sir.” The deputies piled into their cars and pulled away.

Thom held his hand, palm-up near Lise. “Lise...”

She grabbed his hand, locked her fingers with his and squeezed. She bit her lip and clamped shut her eyes to stop the tears. It didn't work. “How could they? How could they think I was a...”

“It's all right, Lise. It's over.” He leaned toward her.

She threw her arms around him and sobbed. “He had no right to touch me like that!”

“What did he do?”

“He put his hand down my shorts and felt ... inside me!” She sobbed. “Just before I came here, Tagg and I...” She wailed.

“So that's the comment about second trick... Which one did it?”

“The older, short, fat one.”

“I'll have his badge, for sure. You're right, Lise. There was no excuse for that.”

“They would've taken me away...”

Thom caressed the back of her bald head. “It's over, Lise. Lise... If you ever have trouble with the constables, just call me. I'll take care of it.”

“I've had more trouble with them since I've been registered than when I was underground.”

“I don't know why they're not out solving real crimes ... crimes with victims,” Thom replied. Personally, I don't think prostitution should be a crime.” He looked at her. “I'm sorry, Lise, for bringing up an inappropriate topic.”

“It's all right. I agree with you.” She wiped tears from her face.

“Good.” Thom pushed the stick forward and headed down the pavement. “These streets certainly get deserted this time of day.”

“Yes,” she replied. “Even the taxis won't come here after sundown.”

“I don't drive here myself after dusk. It is the short way to my place, though. And, it's not all that dark, yet.”

XI

Thom piloted the Drumm roadster over the broken streets of Quadrant Four, heading away from the Green Zone. This part of town was commodity industrial -- the car drove past brickyards, scrap metal reclaimers and foundries. Many of these business had begun using novonid workers in large numbers and many of these came from the Zone.

“Lise,” Thom said, “I've been thinking about what you said this morning. I see your point. You're wrong -- I am in love with you ... for you. I will be even if that love is unrequited. As for my inappropriate behavior... Well, it is, unfortunately, one of my faults. It seems whenever I'm fond of someone I become overly familiar. I was out of line, and for making you uncomfortable I am deeply sorry.”

“I accept your apology, Thom. You have been a good friend.”

“Don't hesitate to reprimand me if I do it again.”

Thom stopped the car at an intersection. “This is the boundary between Quadrants One and Four,” he said. “Up there is my house. There are steps leading down to the street here, and a bus stop. If you ever need to get here by yourself, this is how to do it.” He made a right turn. “This street takes us to the main boulevard, up and around to the main entrance. It is quicker, however, than driving through downtown. I wouldn't do it close to curfew, however.”

Lise studied the panel of dials and controls in the center of the dashboard.

“Would you like to try driving?” Thom asked. “Take the stick. You're left-handed, aren't you?”

“Yes...”

“I thought so. Most novonids are.” He put his hand on hers. “Push forward to accelerate; pull back to stop and right or left to turn.”

Lise smiled. “This is fun.”

“Maybe you should get driving credentials.”

“May I?”

“Of course you may. All you need to do is pass the exams. More and more novonids are getting driving permits -- they're essential for some of the jobs your kind are asked to perform these days.”

“I thought it was prohibited.”

“It was until a few standards ago. Then the powers that be came to a startling conclusion that maybe novonids with driving permits would prove useful... So, they changed the road signs to be symbolic -- for the benefit of illiterate novonids...”

“And, illiterate whites, too...”

“I suppose.”

“...Just like the bus routes.”

The car approached a curve. Thom pressed against Lise's hand. “You need to anticipate and follow through.”

“I think I could do this,” she said.

“I have no doubt you could. We're approaching the access road. It's a bit tricky so I'll take it from here.” Lise relinquished the stick and Thom piloted the car up the hill.

Thom parked the car outside his house and escorted Lise inside. He led her to an office containing a large desk and a wall-mounted mediascreen.

Lise looked around Thom's office. A wall of shelves held binders and a disheveled pile of documents, some looking quite old. From the ceiling, on wires hung a miniature of a native Varadan flying creature crafted from polymer resin. Thom sat behind his desk and gestured toward a chair.

Lise sat. “Okay, Thom. What do you want to know about novonids?”

“Nothing.”

“I don't understand. You said you wanted to talk to me...”

“Lise -- I know all there is to know about novonids, I'm afraid. More than all. I have studied your kind. I know your anatomy and your physiology. I know your history. I have a library of material on how you came to be -- notes from the original experiments ... feasibility studies. This is source material, Lise -- original lab notes ... data cartridges, hard copy. I have the largest and most comprehensive collection of material on novonids anywhere on this planet. Much of it comprises rare, original, one-of-a-kind documents. And, I have read them all. You can't tell me anything about novonids that I don't already know. For example...” He gestured toward the model of the winged beast hanging from his ceiling. “Did you ever see one of those in the wild?”

“Yes -- just the other day. I think it's what we saw. It was circling over the pomma savanna beyond the edge of the city.”

“It's called a photoptertheron.”

“A what?” she asked.

“Photoptertheron ... phot-op-TER-ther-on,” he repeated emphasizing each syllable. Lise mouthed the word. “This is a very good likeness. Tell me, Lise -- do you see anything remarkable about it's appearance?”

She regarded the likeness. “A flying beast is remarkable enough,” she replied. “What does it have to do with novonids?”

“You'll see shortly... Do you know what the word means?” She shook her head. “It's derived from classic Greek...”

“Classic Greek?”

“Yes -- a long-dead language from our ultimate planet of origin... Break the word apart ... photo-pter-theron ... light-wing-beast.”

“The wings do look very light-weight,” she replied.

Thom smiled. “Not the right sense of 'light', Lise... Do you notice anything interesting about its color?”

“A rather non-descript brown, I'd say.” Thom stood on his desk, grasped the model and turned it so she could see the upper surface of the wings. They were a deep, forest green. “Green wings?” Her eyes met his.

“The same color green as your