Chapter 5: Planetfall Varada

The scout’s shuttlecraft swept toward the Varadan capital city. Nyk looked out viewports and pointed toward the green-brown continent that spread before them. “A remarkably Earth-like colony,” he remarked to Andra.

She nodded. “The most Earth-like of them all,” she replied. “What’s that brown smudge over the capital city?”

Nyk peered. “Air pollution. New York City looks the same from this altitude. This society uses internal-combustion engines to power their transportation.”

“We’ve been instructed to land on the roof of one of the administration buildings,” the pilot said. “They have a landing area intended for rotary-wing aircraft there.”

Their craft went into station-keeping over a helipad atop a low building situated in a green, groomed park. Nyk watched as the roof approached and felt a bounce as they touched down. The hatch opened. He stepped out and headed toward the edge of the roof and looked toward the ground.

Below him were formal gardens planted with brightly colored shrubs arranged in geometric patterns. He glimpsed motion among the greens and reds and made out a bare-chested, dark-skinned figure tending the beds.

“Nykkyo Kyhana,” he heard someone call. Approaching from a stairwell was a middle-aged man in tan shirt and trousers. His shirt was cut to expose his left clavicle, on which were tattooed three scrolls. Insignia embroidered on his right sleeve identified him as an official of some sort.

“Nykkyo Kyhana, I am Prefect Ogan. Welcome ... welcome to Varada. It is my duty and my privilege to extend hospitality as we await the arrival of the envoy.” Through concentration, Nyk could piece together the meanings of his words, sifting through the nuances differentiating Old Lingwa from Esperanto.

He attempted to apply the nuances in formulating a reply. “Good day, Prefect. Please accept our thanks. I would like to introduce my companion and assistant Andra Baxa.” He gestured in her direction.

Ogan nodded a greeting and Andra made a deep curtsy. “I had heard she was accompanying you. Ms Baxa, you are a very beautiful woman. Please, this way. Our luncheon table is set.”

Nyk grasped his case and followed Ogan into the stairwell and down several flights to a conference room. Set on the table were three plates, each mounded with off-white, finger- length strands. Topping the mounds were scoops of a green puree.

Nyk sat and picked up a flat implement — a rectangular, shallow spoon with three stubby prongs on the end. His eyes met Andra’s and she smiled. He scooped some strands.

“Mmm, very good,” Andra said.

“No need to translate that,” Ogan replied. He stabbed some strands and held them up. “Pomma — the staple of Varada. The whole grain provides all essential nutrients. We eat it with every meal.”

“Don’t you tire of it?” Nyk asked.

“Never. To tire of pomma is to tire of living — a Varadan aphorism.” Nyk took another mouthful. The flavor and texture reminded him of an Earth pasta.

“Pomma IS Varada,” Ogan continued. “Pomma gives us everything, from food to fiber to fuel.”

“Really,” Nyk replied. “Fuel, Prefect?”

“Alcohol, distilled from pomma mash. Do Florans still grow food and fiber under domes?”

“We certainly do.”

“Varada needs not. Pomma is a native plant, well adapted to the climate here.”

“You’re fortunate to have a native biosphere compatible with humans.”

“Fortunate, indeed. Our colony wouldn’t have survived otherwise.” He skewered and again held up some pomma grains. “It is a very labor-intensive crop to grow.” He touched his finger to the pointed end of a grain. “Each of these is a single kernel. From this end grows a tassel. It is essential that the tassel be removed before it matures. Left on, the kernels mature to become inedible. The only way to de-tassel pomma is by hand.”

“It must be difficult work,” Nyk remarked between bites.

“Yes,” Andra added, her Varadan thickly colored by a Floran accent. “It must explain your need for slave labor.”

“Please,” Ogan protested. “The cultivation of pomma was but one reason we developed a ... a stratified society.” He moved his hand back and forth at his eye level. “Whenever you encounter strata, by necessity some reside at the top...” He slid his hand along the table top. “ ... and some at the bottom. The bottom stratum is as important as the top, for it supports those above it.”

Nyk picked up Andra’s thread. “Nonetheless, you found it necessary to impose involuntary servitude.”

“Given the choice of the top or bottom, one naturally chooses the top. If everyone inhabited the top, the structure becomes top heavy and collapses.” He made a collapsing gesture. He looked up and into Nyk’s eyes. “I take it the notion of our stratified society does not appeal to Floran sensibilities.”

“Stratification? No, we have no problem with stratification. Some of our existing colonies have societies stratified to one degree or another. We do have difficulties with involuntary membership in a given level. And, lack of opportunity for advancement — that’s a problem, too. These were the principal stumbling blocks in normalizing relations.”