Venus of Dreams (58 page)

These musings were getting him nowhere. He knew what Earth would expect him to do now. He would have to expel as many Habbers from the Project as possible, remove any future source of temptation to those who might envy the ones who had fled to the Habs. He would have to do that before Earth requested it; that might shore up his position. He would expel as many as he could within the limits of Earth's agreement with the Habs, while keeping those Habbers who remained completely on the sidelines of the Project.

Pavel quailed at the thought. They needed the Habbers even more now, needed their help to build domes on the Cytherian surface. Without the Habbers' help, dome construction would strain their resources to the limit, and their engineers and robots were no match for those of the Habs. Earth would grow impatient with the progress of dome construction, and eventually Pavel would be blamed for that too. He might only be postponing his own fall from power. All the trends seemed to point in one direction, whatever he did—difficulties and delays for the Project, perhaps even failure, and his own disgrace as a result.

He rubbed his eyes with one large hand. Which did he care about more, his own position or the welfare of the Project? Had he become so corrupted that the two were now wedded in his mind? The younger Pavel would have put the Project before all, might have confronted Earth with the facts—namely, that they needed the Habbers even more now.

No, he thought. The Project Council, whose members had to balance the needs of the Project against the Mukhtars' desires, would not listen to him anyway. The Nomarchies might have ignored a flight from Earth, or those mining the asteroids deserting their posts for a Hab, but to see pilots abandon the Project that was Earth's greatest glory was especially humiliating. There were those among the Mukhtars who had wanted to rid the Islands of Habbers before now. The Habbers, most of them, would be expelled anyway, and Pavel would only lose his own position if he fought that.

It was too easy to give up, to make the noble gesture and wash one's hands of the outcome; better to stay on, do what had to be done, and wait for events to bring good fortune his way again. He had lasted this long as an Administrator; he would hang on long enough to see successful settlements, whatever it cost him or anyone else. That would be his triumph, and nothing else would matter.

There was yet another action, in addition to expelling most of the Habbers, that Pavel would have to take soon in order to shore up his own position. He closed his eyes and opened his Link, then sent out a call.

After a few minutes, Pavel's screen emitted a chime. He leaned over and pressed a button on his console, checking to be sure that he was on a closed channel. The face of Yukio Nakasone appeared on the screen.

"Greetings, Commander Yukio," Pavel said, trying not to betray his distaste for the man.

"Greetings, Pavel. Why the screen? Our Links would be adequate, and we could share our ideas more easily."

"I think it would be best if we closed our Links for this talk, and used only the screen. We're on a closed channel, and I don't want interruptions."

"Very well."

"You've undoubtedly heard about our recent embarrassment by now."

Yukio's mouth twitched. "I told you no good would come of giving Habbits the run of the Islands, where they can fill the heads of weak ones with their lies. You've been careless, Pavel."

"I agree. But perhaps some good can come out of this incident. The Habbers will be dealt with, never fear, but that isn't what I wanted to discuss with you."

Yukio gazed at him expectantly.

"This unfortunate incident has convinced me that the Project hasn't made enough use of the Guardians you command." A sour taste filled Pavel's mouth as he spoke. "Had we done so, we might have avoided this traitorous activity. I have a proposal to make to you, Yukio. It is now time that we stationed Guardians permanently on the Platform. If a Guardian pilot accompanies each and every shuttle that leaves the Platform, we can at least avoid a repetition of today's incident. Perhaps Guardian pilots could themselves handle many such flights, and we could restrict more of our pilots to airships only. Such an act on our part will do much to reassure the Mukhtars."

Yukio smiled. "Not a bad idea. There's only one problem. My force here is small. I haven't enough people to do what you want."

"True enough," Pavel responded. "You will have to ask the Nomarchies for a larger force. I think, under the circumstances, they'll provide you with one. You will, of course, have to be given slightly more authority than you have now."

Yukio's smile widened; his eyes glittered.

"As you know," Pavel continued, "there are those here who, unfortunately, do not give your Guardians the respect they deserve. Perhaps we can overcome that. I would want Guardians who are disciplined, who will stick to their task and not interfere with the Project."

Yukio's smile faded. "All Guardians are disciplined."

"Of course. But as is true in all walks of life, some are more disciplined than others. I stress this point only because I think it's best if those Guardians who would be stationed on the Platform stay on the Islands when they're off duty. We'll rotate two groups in alternating shifts, and we can provide quarters for them here in the Administrators' residences." Where, Pavel added silently to himself, I can keep an eye on them.

"Your Islanders may not be happy with that," Yukio said. "They could come back here to Anwara instead."

"Indeed. But if they stay among us, they'll become familiar faces, acquaintances instead of a faceless, impersonal force. Their presence may also restrain any who might still have foolish notions. I suggest that we put your colleague Fawzia Habeeb in command of those forces. She fancies our Islands, and wouldn't mind the duty." Pavel was not delighted with the prospect of Fawzia's presence, but she shared some of his hopes for the Project, and that would make her easier to control than one like Yukio, who thought more of his own power than he did about the Project's goals.

Yukio was now frowning. "So I would be here, with Anwara's small force, while Fawzia has command of your larger one. I'm afraid I don't care for that."

"You misunderstand, Commander. Fawzia could command, and a subordinate could be left in charge on Anwara. You, of course, should return to Earth, where you can supervise the transfer of more Guardians here. With more Guardians here, and with many to be stationed on the Islands, the Project Council on Earth might have need of a liaison, and your advice and knowledge of our situation could be valuable to them. You would have a chance to meet some influential people, and Fawzia would still have to answer to you even at a distance. I suggest that you give her a glowing recommendation, and I'll certainly do the same for you. Needless to say, I'd prefer your company here, but you'll be far more valuable elsewhere, and I know your thoughts have often turned to Earth."

"Indeed they have." Yukio wrinkled his brow. "I don't know how the other Administrators on your Council are going to receive this proposal."

"I'll take care of that, never fear. They'll see that we have no choice, that it's this or a reprimand, or Earth taking more drastic steps on its own. In the meantime, I think it might be wise for you to speak to the Project Council members there immediately, and offer my suggestions. You are free to inform them that you've already discussed this with me, and to tell them that we've already agreed on the wisdom of this course of action."

Yukio nodded. "Earth should be pleased that we want to act so quickly."

"There might be objections to the expense of bringing more Guardians to the Project, but once most of the Habbers are expelled, it will cost us less to provide for the Guardians than it did to take care of the Habbers."

"You'll expel them at last," Yukio said. "It's about time. They should never have been allowed there in the first place. Too bad you can't get rid of them all, but I suppose the agreement will prevent that, and we must at least keep to its letter."

"It's settled, then," Pavel said. "Go to the Council. I'll speak to the other Administrators here as soon as possible. I should be going to Anwara within a day or two to address the Council myself and show them that I'm doing all I can, and we'll make our final arrangements then. God be with you, Yukio."

"Farewell." The screen went blank.

Pavel slouched on his cushion. Guardians on the Islands. The thought made him ill. He cursed the wretched pilots who had brought this about; his goals for the Project seemed further away than ever.

Chen sat in a grove just beyond the entrance to the airship bay, lost in grief. He had sat here often to wait for Benzi to return from the Platform. In the days before Benzi had broken his bond, Chen had often been here to welcome him, to lead him to a table where they might share a meal and talk.

His son was gone, Chen's bond with him irretrievably broken; he would never see Benzi again. Somehow, the news of Benzi's flight had not surprised him, but the wound had been so deep that he had not even been able to feel rage. He had fled from the crowd of celebrants surrounding the workers' star-shaped residence. Those people would grow to despise Benzi and his companions; his son's name would become a curse. Benzi's fellow pilots, who were likely to suffer more restrictions now, would hate him most of all, either because he and his friends had deceived and betrayed them or because they had lacked the will or courage to join him and were not likely to get a second chance to do so.

He would have no son on Venus, no child to give meaning to his labor for that new world. In spite of that, he could not hate Benzi for his deed. Better for him, Chen thought, that he had succeeded; he could not have borne seeing Benzi punished. Better that Benzi had achieved his goal, whatever pain it brought to his father. Perhaps Benzi was thinking of him now; he wondered if the boy would regret his actions. Regret would do his son no good, would only poison his new life; Benzi could not turn back.

A tall man was standing near Chen. He was clothed in a long white robe without markings and was wearing the white headdress popular among some Linkers. Chen had not heard him approach. The man swept part of the head covering away from his face; Chen stared at the long, thin face for a few moments before recognizing him.

"Ibrahim," he whispered. He was about to rise. The Habber shook his head and hid his face again as he turned away. "I didn't know you were still here after all these years."

"I had left for a time. I returned not long ago." Ibrahim's voice was muffled by the cloth covering the lower part of his face. "Don't look at me. I come only for a little while. We are unobserved at the moment, but be careful."

"You shouldn't have come." Chen kept his eyes on the bay entrance. "It's dangerous for you now."

"Perhaps not too dangerous. No one will expect a Habber to be outside the protection of our residence here. I wanted to speak to you, Chen. I suspected that, since your son was a pilot, I might find you here. I could not risk leaving a message other ears might hear—at any rate, our screens have been shut down for the time being. I managed to sneak out when the mob cursing us had left to find other amusements. I sorrow for you, who once offered me what friendship you could, who made the carving I still have. None of us knew of what your son and those with him were planning, and yet I feel as though I've harmed you."

"You've done nothing," Chen said.

"You are kind. I expected you to curse me and my people for stealing your son."

"You stole nothing. He chose to do what he did. If you had known, would you have tried to stop him?"

"No," Ibrahim murmured. "And we cannot send him back. How can we demonstrate to all that we would punish someone for choosing our way? We do not have that capacity. All of us are the children of those who once fled Earth." He was silent for a moment. "It will be hard for him at first, to prepare for a Link, to see himself as one of us, to accept what flows into his mind without fear and without losing his own thoughts."

"He's lost to me already," Chen said, "yet I can't curse him."

"I've worked here for so long," the Habber said. "Your people think we stay to have some power over you, that we have some hidden end. They don't seem to realize that what happens on the new world might renew us in the way that it will renew Earth, that the people who build Venus may have something to offer both our cultures. I wanted to watch what will take root there, but that chance is gone. We have both lost much today."

Chen glanced at Ibrahim's stooped shoulders. "What have you lost, Ibrahim?"

"Something will have to be done. Most of us will be sent back to the Habs, I think. The few who remain, who are still needed here, will labor under even more suspicion, and their lives will be more lonely than before. By the time Venus is settled, there may be no Habbers on the Islands or aiding the settlers."

"But the Project still has an agreement with you," Chen said. "It can't be broken, even now. They'll need you to—"

"They'll keep the agreement. They'll keep it out of fear and because of Earth's greed for what we can give, but the agreement will weaken. They'll let us be the ones to let it lapse. A few on Earth are aware of our true weakness—that we fear losing contact with you, that we can't yet make that leap beyond the history that we all still share even now, that we fear such a break and fear casting ourselves adrift."

Some of Ibrahim's words puzzled Chen, and yet he somehow grasped the man's meaning. "Some have never understood," Ibrahim continued, "how much meaning we can find in giving you what help we can. It was part of our purpose long ago—not just stepping outside Earth's limits, but reaching out to those left behind. Yet they see only the rift, and not the extended hand. And those who do understand us use us and resent us for our help." He bowed his head. "We may be cast adrift. Someday, we may leave this system to wander among the stars. The power that made Venus move may carry us away, and we may finally escape our history."

Chen thought of that, seeing how such a dream might draw someone. It was not unlike his own hopes for Venus, for a place where people could begin anew.