Venus of Dreams (13 page)

Catherine shook her blond head. "He wasn't supposed to see it until after the ceremony."

"Let him whet his appetite," Dorcas said as she rolled her brown eyes. "Not that he hasn't seen the goods before, but a new wrapping can make all the difference."

"Fei-lin came by before," Tonie said. "He'll be a witness, but—"

"I have to talk to you," Chen said quickly. "Now, alone."

The women stood up; Tonie's smile faded as she gazed at Chen. Catherine, looking worried as she caught Chen's eye, quickly led Dorcas away.

The door closed behind Chen and Tonie. "You don't look very happy about our pledge," Tonie said, sounding affronted. "Dorcas and Lise are going to give us a party afterward. I was going to ask just the people on your crew and mine, but I think they want to ask more, so I said that was fine as long as we didn't have to provide the beer and wine for all of them. What do you think?" She did not wait for an answer. "Dorcas and Lise said they'd take care of the extra beer and wine. I guess they'll expect us to do the same for them later, when they make pledges."

Chen sat down across from her, folding his arms. "I have to tell you something."

She pouted a little. "Oh, my. Don't tell me you've changed your mind already." She shook out the garments Catherine had given her and dropped them on her bed. "Dorcas would never forgive me. She'd probably have the party anyway—she'll use any excuse for a party."

"I haven't changed my mind," he said dully.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." Tonie stretched out on her bed seductively, leaning on one elbow and arching her back a bit. The gesture, tickled Chen's memory; Tonie looked exactly like an image he had seen on an erotic tape, almost as if she had studied the image's postures. "Did that damned Counselor tell you that we can't have twenty years?"

"I have to tell you." He stared at the wall behind her, unable to gaze into her eyes. "They're sending me back to Earth. Corazon told me today."

"Sending you back?" Tonie sat up; her hands fluttered. "But you haven't asked to go."

"They need more room here."

"When?"

"I don't know exactly when. Probably before my next shift on the Bat's due to start. As soon as a ship's leaving Anwara."

"Oh, Chen. It isn't fair."

He bowed his head. "Corazon said it's only for a while." He tried to sound as if he believed that. "She'll write a good report so I'll have a good chance to come back."

"How long?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask? How could you listen to that, and not ask? They can't do it."

Chen raised his head. Tonie's face crumpled, as if she was about to cry; then her eyes suddenly widened. "Do they expect me to go back with you?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. We don't have a bond yet. It wouldn't matter even if we did. I wouldn't ask you to come back with me, Tonie. Listen, this doesn't have to change our plans. We could become bondmates anyway."

She drew up her legs. In her slightly baggy shirt, with her thin legs and pretty, pouting face, she looked like a wounded child. "How? How do I know when I'll see you again?"

"Corazon said I could be near the top of the list." He struggled for words. "She doesn't think we should be bondmates now, but we can still make a pledge. I'd keep my promise for years if I had to. Don't you see? If I had a bondmate here, they might let me come back sooner. We could even start a child—you could ask Corazon about it. If I had a bondmate and a child here—" Another idea occurred to him. "You could file a protest, say that your bondmate's being taken from you and that—"

Her mouth twitched. "How do you know they wouldn't send me back if we did that? And Corazon doesn't even want you to make a pledge now. She'd never approve of us having a child, never. It doesn't make any sense."

"They're sending others back. There'll be more room here." A lump was forming in his throat. He couldn't tell her how much he needed her promise now; he might be able to endure Earth if he knew his bondmate and child were still on the Islands. I love you, he thought, and you're sounding as though you don't really love me.

He wasn't being fair. Tonie was suffering for his deeds; he had to be more considerate of her feelings. He could not ask too much of her.

"We can modify the contract," he mumbled. "You could do what you want, even form a second bond with another man if you like while I'm away. A Counselor could write the clauses for us. I wouldn't ask—"

"No, no, it wouldn't work." She paused. "I don't want anyone else anyway." That statement sounded like an afterthought. "Look, it doesn't make sense to form a bond of any kind now. When you come back—we can make a pledge then. Can't we?"

"Oh, Tonie," he groaned.

She stood up, holding out her arms. "Chen, you know how much I care about you. Believe me, if I thought—if you could tell me how long I'd have to wait—I could wait for a year, or two years, or maybe even longer. But I don't know when you'll come back, or even if you will."

"Corazon said—"

"I don't care what she said. Without a public statement, her word is useless. You know that."

His hope was fading. "There would be a better chance for me if I had a bondmate here."

"Chen! I'm only nineteen. We could both change—we might not feel the same way later on."

He ground his teeth. "You were willing to pledge twenty years before."

"When I thought you would be here, at my side. You fool." She was now speaking in Chinese. "What do you expect from me? Should I pledge myself to you and risk being sent back too? Do I have to share your fate and lose what I already have? Do I have to be chained to a child?"

"I thought you wanted one."

"Later, not now—not with an absent father."

He knew she was right, that his poorly thought-out plan was ridiculous. He would not be here to help raise the child when Tonie was working on one of the Bats; they would not be able to divide the burden. The Island nursery, tended mostly by groups of parents under the direction of Counselors, as well as by workers trained for the task, could not be expected to take on the entire responsibility for a child. Corazon, whatever her sympathies, would never allow Tonie to bear his child in his absence. Tonie saw how things had to be, and he understood that at last, but she might have tried to ease his pain now. Whatever she was losing, she would still have her part in the Project.

He opened his hand, palm up, as he prepared to speak more gently to the woman he loved.

Tonie's eyes suddenly narrowed. "It's that cursed Habbit. I know it. That's why they're sending you away. They're punishing you, warning the rest of us not to spend any time with them." She had grasped the truth quickly. Ari, he thought bitterly, would be pleased; Tonie and her friends would spread rumors and warnings for him. "Oh, I knew it. I told you not to talk to that Habber dog and his kind. What can he do for you now?"

Chen stood up. She wasn't thinking of him at all.

"Why didn't you listen to me?" She was almost screaming now, her face so contorted that it was uglier than he had believed possible. "I'd be mad to become your bondmate now, I'd just be punished along with you. It's true, isn't it? That's why they're sending you away. It's bad enough that I lived with you all these months. What if they begin to think I'm like you? You've shamed me, Chen. I warned you, I told you—this is all your own fault. I told you not to—" She shrieked and stumbled back, raising a hand in front of her face.

He had lifted his arm, making a fist, ready to strike her.

"Go on, just try it! Do you think I can't defend myself?"

He was shaking. Spinning away from her, he struck the wall, bloodying his knuckles.

"Oh, Chen. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He ran from the room, thinking with horror of how his hands had nearly betrayed him.

Chen hurried along the corridors of the workers' residence, paying no heed to shouted greetings or the grumblings of those he jostled as he passed. He continued on his way until a door at the end of the hall slid open.

He was outside, in one of the courtyards at the side of the building. This courtyard was a triangle of flat stones bounded on two sides by two wings of the star-shaped building. A few couples had already gathered there; two young people, huddled together in one of the large wicker chairs, looked up at Chen with startled dark eyes as he lurched past them.

The dome's light had faded into the silvery glow of an Island evening. A small hill sloped above the courtyard; Chen climbed until he reached the top of the slope, then sank to the grassy ground. From this hill, one of only a few on the otherwise flat Island, he could see much of the building below. A few families still sat near the front entrance; most had already returned to their rooms.

The Island seemed least like the Earth he remembered at dusk. During an Island day, the chatter or people and the noise of their activities filled the air; at night, a heavy silence blanketed the land under the dome. But in the evening, Chen heard only the intermittent chirp of a cricket. Few birds sang here and no creatures roamed through the wooded grove on the other side of the hill. On Earth, even in its great cities, birds still nested under eaves; dogs and cats roamed and snarled at one another over scraps. The Island seemed as insubstantial as a dream, a place where one could believe that all reality was encompassed by a human mind. At such moments, Chen understood why people needed to root themselves on the Cytherian surface below. Without that goal, the pleasant Islands could become a trap, a closed circle, a place where everything was in balance and nothing would change.

He sighed as he stared at the home he would soon leave behind. The pain of that thought was a blow; he realized, with guilt and unhappiness, that this pained him even more than the loss of Tonie. She had guessed the truth; she was like him; she would put the dream first, and cut herself adrift from anything that might rob her of it. He was no longer surprised that she had spoken to him so bitterly.

He put his feet under him and rose, then descended the other side of the hill until he came to a pale stone path. The path wound through the grove of trees, leading him past five girls with flowers in their hair and by a table where a few Linkers were enjoying an evening meal. The shadows swallowed him; he strode on until he came to the edge of the small wood and heard the soft drone of human voices.

Chen had come to the place where the Island's memorial pillars stood. The twenty pillars lined either side of the path; faces cast in metal gazed down at him sightlessly as he bowed his head a little. Names in several languages also adorned the pillars, and bouquets of flowers had been placed on the ground below.

Four old men stood near one pillar that was not yet completely filled with names and faces. They swayed a bit as they finished saying their prayers. Chen wondered if they were praying for one long gone or for themselves; their gray hair and wrinkled faces were signs of their own approaching death.

Chen stopped at the pillar and bowed from the waist, wanting to show respect. "My son," one man said, gesturing at one of the faces. "Gone these many years. Lately, I've been remembering him again."

"I'm sorry," Chen said.

"Do not mourn. He was a bad young man in some ways, quick to fight and too free with women, but I loved him, and at least he had a purpose here."

"You should rejoice, young man," another man said, smiling bitterly. "Here, you see four old ones who will soon be gone to make room for your children."

"Not my children," Chen replied. He hurried away, refusing to explain his response.

After a few more broad strides, he had come to the northern edge of the Island, where the path ended at the bottom of a flight of stairs. He climbed the stairs to a curved platform and leaned against the railing.

Island Two was over two kilometers wide, and the platform curved around the Island's diameter. He gazed through the dome at the blackness outside, feeling it fill his soul. Venus was below, hidden from him, beyond his reach.

He and Tonie had decided to make their pledge here, in sight of the world their children might have settled. A bitter taste filled his mouth.

Venus would not be his world after all. He understood how empty Corazon's promise probably was. Another worker would eventually take his place; others would finish building this world. All he had to offer the Project, besides the skills many others had, was his youth and strength, which would ebb away every year he was gone.

Footsteps sounded on the platform. He glanced to his left. Tonie was walking toward him; she had thrown on a blue knee-length robe over her shirt. He was about to wave her away; she held up a hand.

She said, "I shouldn't have spoken to you as I did."

"You said what was true."

"I wish I could take it back." She put one hand on his; he did not pull away. "I want to ask you something, Chen. Tell me the truth. If they were sending me back to Earth, and keeping you here, would you make a pledge to me? Would you follow me back to Earth?"

He was silent for a time. "I don't know," he said at last.

"That's not what you mean. You do know, I think. The only difference is that you wouldn't have been so cruel if you had to tell me you were staying."

"Tonie, I—"

"I love you, Chen, but I want to stay here. I would have kept loving you if we could be together. Maybe that's the point. It would be easy for us to love each other if nothing was in our way. That might mean we don't love each other enough."

"It sounds like something Corazon might say," he replied.

"She'd be right too. We both want the Project more than we want each other. Maybe this way, we can find people we'd love more than we love the Project."

"That isn't possible."

"Someone we love as much, then."

"I don't think," he said, "that I could love anyone who didn't share this dream."

"Then you would have stopped loving me if I went back with you, if I were willing to give this up."

"You twist words, Tonie. You try to make something good come out of this."

"Maybe it will." She leaned against him and rested her cheek on his chest.