Venus of Dreams (53 page)

He was speaking to her as a friend might. It was surprisingly easy to lean against him and listen to his soothing words.

"This is a matter between you and your son," Amir said. "It has nothing to do with our work together. I still have trust in you, and I know you'll repay that trust. You might have waited until your son made his petition for a break public, and faced me with the embarrassment of having appointed you without knowing of that. The Administrators would overlook your son's action, most probably, but I would have appeared foolish for not knowing about it sooner. The fact that you were willing to tell me this now leads me to hope that we may grow closer."

"You don't think—"

"—that it might look odd on your record?" He shook his head. "He'll be blamed as much as you, perhaps more. You've demonstrated your worth. You must forget the past, and look forward. You may find others who can accept what you have to give."

His eyes held her; the intensity of his gaze drew her. She forgot the people sitting on the grass nearby and thought only of Amir. Perhaps, in spite of what had happened with Chen, it was possible for her to love a man more deeply; maybe, regardless of her son's rejection of their tie, there was something in her to love.

Amir reached for her hand. "I'm too ardent, I know," he said. "We've hardly met. But my heart went out to a stranger I thought might die on the surface of Venus, and then, when I met you, I saw the courage that kept you alive. No rescue attempt could have helped you without that courage. You've awakened something inside me, Iris. Now, I think of the years you spent here when I was only dimly aware of your presence, and I've grown impatient to make up for them."

She stepped back. "I was afraid to have you come to my room before," she whispered. "I would ask you to come there now."

"And I want to be with you. But you carry a burden of sorrow over your son. I want to make love to you now, but you might only be trying to forget that unhappiness in my arms. I want us to enjoy love happily, without such shadows. I don't want to open my heart to you, and then discover later that you wanted only a comforting friend—but I'll be a friend, too, if that's what you wish of me."

"It's not all I wish."

"Your bondmate is a foolish man for saving you and then leaving you again. I would not have left you so easily." His soft but forceful voice disturbed her a little; then he touched her arm lightly, and her apprehension faded. "We'll be meeting again soon. There's no reason we can't wait until you know me better and are sure you want me as a lover. Anticipation can only add to our pleasure, if that is what you choose." He bowed his head. "Good night, Iris."

"Good night, Amir."

She watched him walk away until he was hidden from her sight, and knew that thoughts of him would disturb her sleep.

Twenty-Four

Chen's first meeting with the other members of the Workers' Committee had bewildered him. He had known each of the others, however slightly, for years; he had worked with a couple of them on the Bat. He had always guarded his words around them, had limited his conversation to talk about needed equipment or a too-demanding schedule. He had listened to the Committee speak to assemblies of workers, where they would tell of their plans for the future or ask for assent to a particular proposal.

The Committee met once a week whenever all of them were present on Island Two. Once every two months, they traveled to one of the other Islands to meet with the members of the nine other Workers' Committees, or welcomed those people here. They could have conducted their business over the screens, but the others seemed to feel that the screens inhibited discussion, though it was perhaps also wise not to have a record of all proceedings. Meeting together also meant some additional time off to assemble, to acquire some free food and wine for sustenance; going to another Island involved a day for traveling and preparing statements and at least two days of meetings that often became excuses for parties.

Chen had been silent during his first meeting and had wondered exactly what they were supposed to accomplish. Charles Eves, who worked on dock maintenance at the southern Bat, had mentioned some complaints about two of the workers there, and the Administrative Committee had already issued a reprimand. Patrizia Dunn rambled on about Parasol maintenance, where those in charge were considering longer shifts, much to the dismay of the workers. Such talk had seemed useless. The Administrators would decide matters in the end; the Workers' Committee would present its views and report back with the Administrators' response. So Chen had thought, in the beginning.

Now, after almost five months on the Committee, the others had grown easier in his presence. Charles, always blunt, had grown franker; the others paid attention when he spoke. Chen had seen what their true business was at last.

Chen let his face go slack as Charles muttered about a worker named Mario Leggett. Mario, it seemed, had the unfortunate habit of speaking his mind, and Charles was among his targets. It was rumored that Mario was friendly with a Linker, and that he might be trying to win a place on the Committee for himself.

"You work with him, Laure," Charles continued. "Any chance of a reprimand?"

Laure Girard looked up from her bowl of fruit. "I don't know. He's a good worker. Frankly, I'd hate to lose him."

"See if you can find something."

Laure twisted a lock of her blond hair. "There's supposed to be an opening in one of the nurseries. My friend Dina wants to spend more time with her daughter."

"We can recommend her, I guess," Charles replied, "depending on what happens with Mario. Look, you don't need much—just enough so he gets a reprimand."

Chen leaned forward. "Does it matter? Why look for trouble with a man who's doing his job?"

Charles smiled tolerantly. "I don't care about his job—it's mine I'm worried about. If he gets on this committee, one of us'll have to go, and it'll probably be me. They'll say I've been on the longest, that it's time for a change, that I need a rest from all this. Of course, they could bump one of you." The others around the table nodded. "Stick a reprimand on him, and he won't get picked, and he'll be warned."

"I was picked," Chen said. "They didn't bump any of you."

Charles rested his broad face on one fist. "You're a hero. You're a special case." He looked impatient. Chen wondered if he was now going to hear the other man's usual tirade. I gave everything to this Project, Charles would say; I got us more credit and better contracts, I've appealed reprimands, I've seen more of our children get some schooling and gotten their parents more time to be with them. It was all true enough.

"I'll talk to Mario," Chen said.

Charles's lip curled. "And show what we're thinking? He'd be sure to make his move then."

Chen shook his head. "Maybe he doesn't want what you think he does." He glanced at Laure. "You know him. Don't you know what he's after?"

The blond woman folded her arms. "I work with him. I don't know him all that well."

"What's your problem, Chen?" Muhammad Feroze blurted out. "Never noticed you being friendly with Mario. What's he to you? He got some hold on you or something?"

"I just don't like to see a mark on someone's record, that's all."

"It'll be a warning," Charles said. "It won't hurt him all that much, and it'll give anybody else with ideas the word."

Chen looked down. The others had grown to trust him during the past weeks. If he made too vigorous a protest over this matter, he would make himself useless for other battles. "I'm only thinking," he said at last, trying to choose his words carefully, "that this Mario might protest a reprimand if he thinks he doesn't deserve it. He might have friends who'll speak for him if he's such a good worker. You'd be giving him a forum to say what he thinks. If the Administrators see all this surface, they might settle it by replacing all of us if they think that'll calm things down."

"He has a point," Tadeo Toda muttered.

Charles sighed. "Maybe so. Well, I'll let it go for now. Maybe I'll talk to his Linker friend myself, see what I can ferret out."

Chen relaxed a little. He'd won that one, at least temporarily.

These meetings always tired him. He had been disappointed, but not surprised, when the others had first revealed their real concerns. Each had a network of friends and acquaintances, and each tried to turn as much good fortune their way as possible. Chen had felt the pressure from those he knew; even Fei-lin was angling for a recommendation to be head of his team of workers. Chen had told himself that none of it mattered, that the Administrators would do what they liked in spite of the Committee, and that the workers might as well take a few things for themselves. He had occasionally convinced himself that his fellow Committee members usually angled only for things that might benefit most of the workers and limited their greed to a little extra credit or a better job for a friend.

Lately, he had seen other maneuvers; Charles's worries about Mario Leggett were only the latest in a series. It followed, in a way; if some gained, others would have to lose, and there was only so much to go around. Chen rubbed his chin. That was the way all Earthfolk thought at bottom, bound by the limits of their world; he had hoped things would be different on Venus.

He had stood up for Mario, whom he barely knew, and had saved Charles from a possibly damaging confrontation; perhaps he had only helped Charles by doing that. Chen also knew that if he did not soon elicit a few favors for his own friends, he might lose their trust. When he had been powerless, his friendship alone had been enough for them.

He lifted his head, trying to look as though he were paying attention; the others were beginning to plan for their next meeting, a process that would go on for a little while and enable them all to finish the remaining food and wine. Muhammad was already recording those portions of the meeting they were willing to make public; he spoke slowly so that the others could add any of their own remarks. Because none of them could read, the beginning of the next meeting, as usual, would consist of listening to a recitation of these notes, and take up even more time.

Chen sighed. He would have to bring up Fei-lin's request at the next meeting; he should have been thinking of that instead of dithering about Mario Leggett. He was afraid to ask, afraid of what it would finally do to him. He would then become part of the network of favors and obligations; he would inevitably become involved in exacting retribution for real or imagined slights. He would have to defend any gains he might make for those closest to him by whatever means necessary, or they would begin to lose whatever he acquired for them. Chen thought of Eric and the price he had already paid to get back to the Islands.

"Anything else?" Muhammad asked. "Guess we're set, then."

Charles stood up. "This meeting's closed." The others rose and wandered out of the room. Chen's neck was stiff. He tried not to recoil when Charles casually threw an arm over his shoulders as they walked through the doorway.

"You were kind of quiet today," Charles said as he released Chen.

"That's nothing new."

"Quieter than usual, except for that one piece of business." Charles nodded at a few passing workers, who quickly nodded back as they passed in the hall. "Something bothering you?"

"No."

"Well, you let me know if there is." They came to the end of the hall and emerged into the softer, greener light illuminating the tree-lined path outside. "Must be that son of yours. Don't know how a boy can treat his own parents that way. Trouble is, they spend a few months or years in a school and then wind up thinking they're better than you. I'm all for giving them more than we had, but you'd think they'd show some gratitude."

Charles, perhaps intentionally, was touching one of Chen's deepest wounds. He glanced at the larger man. Charles's bulkiness, his expansive gestures, air of heartiness, and the strong smell of wine and onions on his breath suddenly repelled Chen.

"Benzi's always gone his own way," Chen replied. "He has the right to do what he likes. He wasn't able to spend his earliest years with me or his mother, so our bond was always a little weak." He hated mentioning these matters to Charles, but felt that he had to speak up for his son.

"I suppose. But petitioning for a bond severance with you and his mother, not seeing you, acting like you're not even here—that's a hard thing."

"He wanted it and so did Iris. I wasn't going to fight it."

Charles stopped next to a bench. "What I mean is that it doesn't look good."

"Some would disagree, Charles. They'd say we're well rid of a son who acts like that. They'd say we're better off without a formal tie to one who's so friendly with Habbers."

Charles slapped him on the back. "Good point. But I guess you'd know about that kind of trouble—lucky for you that you learned that lesson. Except I hear he hasn't been seeing his Habber friends, either."

Chen had not known that, but then he rarely knew what Benzi was doing now. "Well," Charles went on, "I'll see you next time." The big man walked on down the path and waved at two more workers as they passed him. One of the workers was a small, round-faced blond woman named Eleanor Surrey; her smile widened as she hurried past Chen. He smiled back. Eleanor had never liked him, he knew; but he was important now and deserving of her friendliness.

He sat down on the bench and rubbed his temples; often, he did not feel the strain of Committee meetings until they were over. At least Charles had not mentioned the carving he had asked Chen to do. He would have to finish it soon; if he refused to take any pay for it, he might be able to trade it for a favor of some kind.

He thought of Benzi. He had told himself that such breaks were not unknown and often healed themselves in time. What have I done to you, son?

The answer came to Chen almost at once; it was so clear that he was surprised he had not seen it before. This is what I think of your dream, Benzi was saying. This is what I think of being dragged here by two people I hardly knew, who thought only of what they wanted, who brought me into the world only as a means to their own ends. Your dream isn't my dream, and I have only one way of showing you that.