Venus of Dreams (45 page)

The boy shook his head.

"Then you shouldn't worry about it. I knew what I wanted when I was your age, and you should be glad you don't have the problems I had. You'll be able to be a specialist and do something wonderful for the Project, maybe more than I've done. I'll be so proud of you then."

"But what if I don't want that? Would you be mad at me then?"

"Benzi, you shouldn't say such things. You don't know what you want. You won't feel this way when you have real work of your own to do. You probably think that schoolwork doesn't contribute anything to the Project, but it's preparing you for it. You'll see how silly your worries are when you're older." She had gone on to speak of her sacrifices and Chen's and of the opportunities the Project offered. She had never answered her son's question.

Benzi had not revealed such notions to her again. It was he who began to cancel plans they had made for time together and who cut their visits short. He had not even come to Iris himself to tell her that he was leaving school to become an apprentice; he had sent Ismail to give her the news.

Now, it was Iris who pleaded with her son while he endured her with obvious impatience. She had pressed him to continue his studies, and he had refused to respond. Even while knowing that her words would have little effect, she could not stop herself from uttering them, could not give up hoping that he would come to see things her way. If she stopped pressing home her points, she might have to admit that she had lost him after all, yet her angry words only increased the distance between them.

Iris closed her bag and stood up. She had given Chen and Benzi all that she could; they had always known that the Project had an equal claim on her heart. Perhaps it would be better for her to live on Island Eight, away from this room and the memories it evoked. She would not have to encounter the son who had withdrawn from her; she would no longer have to gaze into the eyes of a man who was still waiting for her to erase all the past years with a few loving and heartfelt words.

The pilots' residence, with its two long, triangular wings, reminded Iris of a bird. Two Habbers passed her as she came to the entrance; she stared past them, refusing to acknowledge their tentative greetings. She had tolerated such people once, had even been grateful for their work on the Project, but that had been before Benzi had started to seek their company. Her son might be inside the pilots' building now; he had returned from the Platform a couple of days ago.

Two pilots greeted her as she entered the building; a Linker waiting in the hall gave her a cold stare. The first Linker she had met on Island Two had looked at her in the same way. She had noticed, soon after arriving, how people from the Institute were treated by Project veterans; the older specialists patronized them or complained excessively about their work. She had thought only that this was the way any group might have treated new arrivals; she had sometimes been a little lofty with new students at the Institute. But even Institute graduates who had been here for years were often treated that way.

She and those like her might have schooling, but some others could not forget their origins. The small circle of people whose families had been part of the Project for a century or more saw them as intruders, while those who came from prominent Earth families saw them as outsiders. She had believed that the Project would make them forget such distinctions.

"Iris!"

She turned and saw Rosarius Delan's friendly face; the pilot had been her lover briefly, and she hadn't seen him for several months. She walked toward him, telling herself that she owed him a little of her time now, refusing to admit that she dreaded a possible encounter with her own son.

Hong Te-yu walked over to Benzi's table and slid into a chair next to his. "Just saw your mother outside," she said.

Benzi stiffened, then swallowed more fruit juice. The room where the pilots gathered to talk or share food and drink was nearly empty; he glanced apprehensively toward the door.

"She told me she'd be right in. I think she just wants to talk to me."

"Let's hope so."

Te-yu rested her chin on her small hands. "Really, Benzi, don't you think you could be a little kinder to her? You're old enough to stop acting like a child."

"You're a fine one to be telling me that, with what we've been planning." Benzi closed his mouth quickly. Even in a nearly empty room, it wasn't wise to allude to their plans. His neck was stiff with tension; he moved his shoulders, trying to relax. A lock of dark hair fell across his brow; he brushed it back with one hand.

Te-yu was right, he knew; he could be kinder to Iris. He had learned, early in his life here, that Iris became unhappy when he told her too much about his worries or pestered her with too many questions, but he no longer held that against her, and there had been Counselors and teachers to guide him. His mother had not neglected him, and had set aside periods of time to spend with him; she had rarely raised her voice to him when he was small, and he could not accuse her of any cruelty toward him. It had seemed at times that she was merely behaving properly as a parent out of a sense of duty rather than because of any truly deep feeling for him, but he could understand that as well. She had been no older than he was now when he was born, and had been forced to leave him; he could not blame her for that. It was true that her work meant more to her than he did, but a few of his friends had parents as obsessed.

What he blamed her for now, and could never explain to her, was her constant talk of his obligation to the Project. His duty to the Project was bound up with his duty to her in Iris's mind; there was no way to separate the two. If he did not give his life to Venus, she would never forgive him; that was clear, though she had never said so quite so explicitly. He could never tell her of his own doubts about the Project's goals, for his mother could never admit to any such doubts after all her effort to get here. He could not explain to her that he had come to feel that this whole enterprise, whatever knowledge it yielded, was a way for Earth to perpetuate its rotting culture. When he thought of Venus's future domed settlements, he saw prisons where the inmates would welcome their imprisonment and call it freedom.

He could not say any of this to his mother, and because of that, he had to endure her talk without being able to respond to her arguments. Instead of accepting him as he was, she seemed to grow ever more desperate to change him. He had come to see her as a representative of all that he wanted to escape.

His father, though he was as devoted to the Project as was Iris, did not provoke the same feelings in Benzi. He would not have admitted his doubts to Chen, but Chen seemed willing to take his son as he was. Chen attached no conditions to his love; he could continue to love Iris after years of separation, and could love Benzi as well. However consoling this quality of Chen's was to Benzi, there were times when it had exasperated or puzzled him; in this respect, Benzi realized, he himself was more like Iris. He wished that he could reach out to his mother; as things were, it was easier to avoid her.

Benzi had been on Island Two for eleven years. He had made friends and gone to a school and chosen his work, but he had never really felt at home here. He had been afraid to leave Lincoln, but he had gotten over that loss; he was even grateful for being freed from the life he would have led there. He had made a life for himself. But a dome enclosed him and cut him off from the heavens; he was only truly happy when on a shuttle to Anwara, able to look at the beckoning stars on the ship's screen.

Habbers lived in space. Eventually, they might free themselves of the tenuous bonds that still linked them with Earth's people and embark on voyages that would take them to other stars. He quickly pushed that thought aside.

Iris was standing in the doorway. Remembering Te-yu's advice, Benzi stood up and bowed in an exaggerated show of courtesy as Iris approached his table. He had grown during the past year; he was now a little taller than she. He waited until she had seated herself before sitting down again.

"Looks like you're going on a trip," Te-yu said as Iris set her bag on the floor.

"I am, to Island Eight. I need a pilot."

"And I suppose you just can't wait for another airship. There is one leaving at first light tomorrow, you know."

"I have to go now. I'm expected. Besides, there's been a rather violent eruption around Beta Regio. I want to drop lower, take some atmospheric samples from as near the lower cloud layer as we can get."

Benzi lifted a brow; Iris could have sent a drone to do that. He suspected that her team didn't restrain her more only because they might need such daring when Venus was finally settled. Too many, because of the drones and screens, were content to deal with their tasks through cybernetic intermediaries; the first settlers would have to be more enterprising. He glanced at Te-yu's round, pretty face; the pilot would not miss a chance to show off her skill.

"Your friend Marc won't be happy about that," Te-yu said.

"Oh, he suggested that I could do it if I like. Of course, he won't take responsibility for it. I'm not thrilled about going to Island Eight, so he threw me a bone."

"I guess I can take you, then. Sometimes I think you believe I'm supposed to be your private pilot, Iris."

"I'll go with you," Benzi said abruptly, wanting to make some gesture to his mother to ease the hard feeling between them. Maybe if she saw him piloting, she'd be happier about his choice of work.

Iris frowned. "I'd rather you didn't come along."

His gesture had failed; she seemed annoyed with him instead of grateful. "Why not?" he asked.

"You know perfectly well. Chen wouldn't want us both in a ship taking a risk."

"If it's such a risk, you shouldn't be asking Te-yu to go. You shouldn't be going yourself. You don't have to use an airship to get samples. Anyway, I didn't think you still worried about what Chen feels." He gulped down the rest of his juice, suddenly angry. All his offer had done was to start a new argument.

"Please, don't insult me," Te-yu murmured. "You're not risking much when you're on an airship with me. Benzi can come. I could use a copilot, and he's put in his time on floaters and shuttles. He won't be an apprentice pilot much longer."

Benzi smiled triumphantly. Iris glared at him. "Very well."

Te-yu stood up, adjusting the collar of her blue coverall. "I'll go check out a ship, and I'll probably have to get some cargo loaded for Island Eight just to preserve appearances. We don't want everyone to know that we're just running a private fleet for you."

"Thanks, Te-yu. I'll give you some extra credit." Iris waved a hand as the pilot hurried away. "We'll meet you in the bay in an hour or so."

Benzi was alone with his mother. Her brown hair had grown a little longer, curling just above her collar in the back. "You look nice in green," he said as he gestured at her shirt and pants. "You usually do."

"Thank you."

"Can I get you something from the dispenser?"

She shook her head. "I didn't realize you were so close to the end of your apprenticeship."

"Well, you didn't seem to be interested."

"I don't know why you have to be a pilot."

Benzi grimaced. "Iris, don't start again."

"You were doing well in school. You were a very good student. You could have been a scientist, learned from some fine people here."

"Please," he said softly.

"Do you know what some people said when you gave it up? They said it proves that most children of workers will never really stick to learning even with the opportunities offered to them here." Her green eyes glittered. "Even when they're doing well, they just don't stay with it."

"So now you're blaming Chen."

"I don't blame Chen. He feels the same way I do. You shouldn't have left."

"I take some lessons during my free time."

"Then why did you have to leave school at all?"

Benzi leaned back. Iris always began an argument after he thought a particular matter had been settled, when it was too late for her objections to have any effect. Nothing he did was ever a dead issue with her.

"What good is being a pilot going to do you later?" she continued. "There may be a settlement on the surface within three decades, if all goes well, and you won't be one of the settlers. You'll be someone ferrying things from here to there, that's all."

She was harping on that again, and he knew why, even though she had never admitted it openly. Her own disappointments wouldn't matter if she saw her son settle the new world; that dream was her obsession, and Chen's as well. In all their time here, neither had ever asked him what he wanted, and he could hardly tell them now, or reveal that piloting might provide him with an escape.

"I'll still be with the Project." He felt dishonest even as he said that, and wondered if she suspected his dream. "Maybe I don't want to be a settler. Just because that's what you and Chen want doesn't mean I have to go along."

"What did we do it for, then?"

"I hope you did it for yourselves." He pushed his glass away. "Look at you. Oh, they need their specialists there with the first settlers, but they don't want to grub in the ground themselves, so they took people like you and lured you to the Institute and filled your heads with dreams. So you'll go there and sweat with the workers and build a world, but it won't be yours, it'll be theirs. It's their children who'll reap the rewards, not yours. They'll come floating down in their Islands someday to claim it all." He kept his voice low. "And look how they treat the Habbers. When they're needed, fine. When they're not, pretend they're not here." He had said too much; he shouldn't have mentioned the Habbers to her.

"The Linkers and the specialists closest to them don't see it quite that way," Iris said. "Many of them would stay here just to learn even if we could never settle this world. Oh, I know how they feel. Once, simply learning was enough for me, before I—"

Benzi could feel some pity for her. She had given up a lot for her chance to come here, and had found that she would never be more than a handmaiden to those with more brilliant minds and more power.