They were referred to as "lost" colonies because ships seldom went there, and mostly they had no ships of their own. Some of them may not have been visited more than once a generation. They were so poor economically, and so far from civilization and trade routes, that the Federation had been no more interested in them than they were in the Federation.
So they'd have little to contribute to the Imperial treasury or trade, and hopefully the Empire would decide to ignore them. Or some of them, anyway. The cost/benefit ratio of taking them over and controlling them would be high, and the Empire was bound to have troubles closer to home.
Of course, we couldn't be sure that that's how the Empire would look at it.
On Lizard Island, about the first thing we did each evening was listen to a newscast on the floater radio- the only time we turned it on. It was always in Standard. After a couple of weeks, a local announcer was used-we could tell by his accent. Apparently, the occupation administration was phasing in Evdashians they felt they could trust. By the end of a month, judging by the news, things had settled into a new routine on Evdash. The mass trials were over, the public executions had taken place, and thousands of political prisoners had been shipped off-world to forced-labor camps on mining planets and the like.
We didn't hear Klentis and Aven kel Deroop mentioned among the names of people executed or arrested. They'd been prominent in the old days, in the resistance back on Morn Gebleu, and we agreed that they'd be mentioned if captured.
So for things had gone about the way we'd expect, with the Glondis Party in charge. Their idea was to make everyone too scared to resist. But you could pretty much depend on it that a majority now hated them, and in time the Empire would explode-as soon as anyone got a good strong revolt rolling somewhere.
Of course, that might take a long time to happen.
We all agreed that our function would be either to help brew the revoit inside the Empire, or build a base outside-in one way or another to help bring it down. The only alternative acceptable to any of us was that the Empire might somehow evolve into a decent place to live. History said it wouldn't, especially under something like the Glondis Party. We'd see what happened, and meanwhile we'd prepare for the revolution.
After six weeks I began to fret about my parents. Not many of the things I could think of that might be keeping them were very cheering, given how things were now on Evdash. So I brought it up one evening while we digested our raw fish. Actually, the way I put it was: "Piet, how long do you think it'll be before dad and room show up?"
His eyes turned to me without telling me anything. "How long do you think?" he answered. I should have known he'd say that.
"Things take as long as they take," I said. "But knowing mom and dad, they won't take any longer than they have to. I guess what I was really asking was, how long should we wait before we leave without them?"
"Leave for where?" Deneen asked. "This isn't my favorite place, but I can stay here a year if I need to. Or anyway as long as the floater's fuel cells have power enough to take us where we decide to go."
"Right," I answered. "But if dad and mom don't show, we'll have to make some kind of move on our own, sooner or later."
I glanced around at the others. Piet was interested in what I'd do with the subject. Tarel looked solemn, his eyes shadowed in the dusk. Jenoor looked serious and neutral. Neither of the two had ever shown any tendency to get involved in decisions. They were young, though no younger than Deneen, and in a sense "outsiders" because they were latecomers in our family.
"Have you got any thoughts about this, Tarel?" I asked.
I hadn't really expected a positive answer, but he surprised me. "Unless your parents get here," he said, "the only way we'll get a space cutler is to steal one-a naval cutter of some kind. The occupation forces probably confiscated all the private cutters they could find out about."
"There might still be some private cutters around," Jenoor put in, "belonging to Evdashians who are part of the Imperial spy network. And private cutters ought to be easier to steal than, say, a patrol scout on the ground for servicing."
I couldn't feel optimistic about the prospects. It was one thing to talk about going out and establishing rebel bases, but doing it, or even getting out there, would be something else. I looked at Piet, who'd been sitting there listening and saying nothing. "What do you think?" I asked him. I could swear he laughed behind those quiet eyes.
"You're doing fine," he said. "Keep talking. I wouldn't be surprised if you came up with something."
I didn't, though-that night or any other. I didn't know what Piet might have in mind of course, but none of the rest of us came up with anything.
I was fishing with Jenoor a few weeks later when the end of the dry season arrived. We found out the hard way. Fortunately, we were fairly close to the island, on the west side, usually the upwind side when there was any wind. We seldom went more than a couple of hundred yards from it, for safety's sake, and the water two hundred yards from the island was only four feet deep or so, green in the tropical sunlight. It was shallow enough that we used spears occasionally, when a fish came near enough to that strange object floating on the surface.
We could have gotten out and waded, but we wouldn't of course, because one of the fish species around there- the javelin fish, which was sometimes five or more feet long-was known to attack swimmers. The idea was for us to eat fish, not vice versa.
It was early afternoon, a better time for spotting fish than when the sun was lower. Usually we would see fish from time to time-more often than not, the fish we caught were ones we saw feeding. We'd cast a little way in front of them and let them come up on the lure.
This day we were seeing none at all; it was as if they'd all moved somewhere else.
We'd noticed occasional thunderheads for several days, building far to the west in the afternoons, but none had come near. We'd have welcomed a good rain, just for the change.
Jenoor and I were both facing east to reduce the glare effect on our eyes, and hadn't noticed how near the storm had gotten until we heard the thunder, Jenoor had just hooked our first fish after two hours of nothing. We both turned; the thunderhead wasn't much more than a mile away, with a thick dark wall of rain coming down from it to the sea.
We weren't smart enough to be worried, and returned our attention to the fish. As she played it, perhaps forcing it more than usual because of the rainstorm coming, swells started to raise and lower the skiff. I'd already reeled in my own lure, to keep my line out of her way as she worked her fish. Now I picked up a paddle. The storm was approaching faster than I'd expected, and I felt my first misgiving.
"Horse him in," I told her tersely. "If the line breaks, it breaks. I think we'd beiter get to shore before that thing hits."
She nodded, raising her rod tip and cranking harder. That lasted about ten seconds before the wind hit. It was colder than I would have thought, and almost too hard to be air. With the water as shallow as it was, the sea responded quickly; within seconds the swells became waves that threatened to swamp us.
"Break the line and let's get out of here," I yelled, Jenoor yanked, and the line and rod went slack. Gripping the paddle, I began to dig for the island with it. That's when the first big wave hit, and we turned over.
The water seemed deeper than usual. The wind was piling it up, and it was up to my shoulders. I knew Jenoor didn't swim very well, and my first thought was to find and get hold of her, but I couldn't see her. She's on the other side of the boat, I thought, or under it. Somehow I'd come up on its upwind side. The next thing I knew, she surfaced a few feet in front of me, swimming clumsily, as the boat righted itself. It was full of water.