Authors: Pamela Sargent
"Don't be a fool," she rasped. "You need me to get you back."
He staggered to his seat. "I didn't think they'd do it," she said. "I didn't think in the end—but I guess you don't care about that."
He gazed at her. The pilot looked ill. Her face glistened with sweat; there were two red blotches on her cheeks. She had chosen to live; he wondered why. Perhaps he had touched some cord in her, and she had acted to save him. More likely, it was only a reflexive action, a combination of her training and an unconscious will to live. She would be punished soon enough.
He heard a growl, a low animal's cry. It rose until it became a steady keening sound, a wail. At last he realized that it came from his own throat. He turned away from the screen.
Several Administrators seemed to be calling to Pavel at once. His temples throbbed. Someone on Earth wanted to speak to him. Teofila Marquez had been seized in the airship bay and Counselors were now questioning her; she had described a Guardian officer who had aided the conspirators, someone who, it seemed, was close to Fawzia.
Pavel closed his Link, welcoming the silence, then saw that he was not alone in his room. A Habber woman was standing near his door; he did not recall admitting her.
"Pavel," she said; her face swam in front of his eyes. At last he recognized her.
"What do you want, Erena?" he asked.
"We have been in contact with Earth. Should you come to any agreement now, our people will continue to aid you. I thought you would want to know that. It's true that a few of your people made captives of a few of ours, but others gave their lives to save them. Their example gives us hope for the rest of you, you see. We owe a debt to Iris Angharads and Amir Azad and the Project they worked for, and we will pay that debt."
"You might have thought more about them when they were alive."
"Did you?"
Pavel did not reply.
"I believe Earth is trying to find a way to resolve this whole matter," Erena said. "I hope that you and they will come to some arrangement soon."
He waved her away. The door opened and he caught a glimpse of the people waiting outside; the door closed again. He was alone.
Pavel thought of Amir. He had closed his own Link when he had realized that the younger man was going to die. Perhaps Amir would not have survived in any case, not if Pavel had found a way for Fawzia's Guardians to take the dome; in the confusion of an assault, Amir might have been lost.
Pavel stood up, went to a drawer, and opened it. The device he had smuggled here from Earth so many years ago was there, ready to be assembled and used. If it turned out that Fawzia had in fact encouraged the conspirators, he could have his revenge on her with impunity; he would never have to pay for that secret crime. On the other hand, Liang Chen was still alive; his bondmate had accomplished that much. Chen might guess what Pavel had done, and might even spread his suspicions. Earth would not have to punish Pavel; the Islanders might take that upon themselves.
It was odd to realize that Iris Angharads was dead. She still had, it seemed, some power to affect his actions. He could almost hear her voice now, the insistent tone in her speech that he had heard when they were alone. Give yourself up, Pavel. Give Earth someone to punish, give the Mukhtars a way out.
He had lost already. He would have to resign from the Committee and let Earth decide what to do with him; there might be a chance for others to reach some agreement if he did. He could accept responsibility, and perhaps the Mukhtars would be mollified. Perhaps he could conquer the evil that he had come to embrace.
Iris had once trusted him; she had believed that the Project needed him. She would have hoped that he would do what he could to save it now, and he could do that only by allowing others to take his place.
He gazed at the contents of his drawer, at last seeing a possible use for his weapon. Destroying the secrecy surrounding it would make this particular weapon useless. It might make an interesting display when he spoke again to his fellow Administrators, and it would no longer matter what they thought of him for smuggling it here; he could point out that he had never used it. He could alert the Islanders to the fact that some on Earth had stooped to such means and perverted the function of Counselors. The Islanders would be more vigilant in the future, and there would be less chance of Earth importing such an evil to Venus in order to maintain its power.
He would also be able to remind Earth that its reliance on cyberminds, and on Linkers who were trained to piece bits of data together, made it unlikely that such a secret could be kept for long. It would be a useful reminder to those who still thought in old ways, who did not yet see that the tools they had created would inevitably shape them. It was unfortunate that he himself had not learned this lesson earlier.
Iris Angharads, he was sure, would have been pleased with his decision. He would not be haunted by her memory.
Thirty-Four
February 568
From: Myra Hassan, speaking for the Council of Mukhtars
To: All citizens of the Nomarchies of Earth
In the name of God, the Merciful and Compassionate, Whose Hand guides us all, Who saved us once from destruction at the beginnings of our history and Who watches over us now.
Heed our words! Misguided souls who were part of our most glorious enterprise, the terraforming of Venus, sought to subvert this most noble Project and endeavor for their own purposes. In thrall to ambition, they turned against Earth and attempted to take control of the Project for themselves. Forsaking all loyalty to their own people, these malefactors lied to the Cytherian Islanders and even dreamed of forcing their will upon the Mukhtars. Though it grieves us to admit it, we must also confess that one on the Council of Mukhtars, the former Mukhtar called Abdullah Heikal, took actions that only inflamed the situation.
God has judged the few who sought to destroy our noble Project when their own will was thwarted. They now lie buried under the rubble of the dome they destroyed in their madness. Let their names be erased from our memories. One of their number, a pilot who managed to escape from the destruction, has judged herself, and taken her own life; may she be forgotten.
Others must be judged by us. Know that Abdullah Heikal and those who misguidedly followed him have been removed from the Council of Mukhtars and its associated Committees; may they do penance for their deed in obscurity. Know that Fawzia Habeeb, the Guardian commander who forgot that she was our servant, has, along with her treacherous aides, been stripped of all position and honor. Know that Pavel Gvishiani and the members of his Island Council who were closest to him have been deprived of their Links and are no longer Administrators.
Know also that we can show mercy. Though Pavel Gvishiani acted against us to further his own ends and dreams of power, he and his colleagues once served the Project well before ambition led them astray. They will be allowed to continue laboring for Venus under the supervision of others, though they must never be allowed to rise again. In this way, we seek to heal the wounds that they inflicted on our noble Project, and will allow them to labor with those they sought to deceive.
Those who dwell on the Cytherian satellite Anwara are free from blame and will not be punished.
Those dwelling on the Islands were lured into seeking to betray the Project, yet the blame for their actions must rest with their leaders. Therefore, they shall not be punished. Let the Islanders ponder their past actions, and be grateful to those who show them such mercy. May they redouble their efforts as they work to settle the new world, and may they remember that punishment for any future traitorous activity will be swift and sure.
Those Guardians now residing among the Islanders are guilty only of following the orders of their commander, as they were trained to do, and they shall remain unpunished. Those who wish to remain among the Islanders may, if they have skills useful to the Project and are accepted by the Island Committees, resign from the Guardians to serve the Project. The others will be brought back to Earth and will continue in their Guardian service here.
Those living in the artificial worlds called Habitats will be allowed to aid the Project in their own small way, according to the terms of our new agreement with them. Though we do not need their aid to realize our dream, we shall allow them to do what they can to aid the construction of domes on the Venusian surface, since they wish to show their gratitude to us for our forbearance when we might have attacked their worlds. Misguided individuals sought to make allies of the Habitat-dwellers in their treachery, and though we might have acted forcefully against the Habitats, we stayed our hand and drew no blood. We shall allow the Habitat-dwellers to do penance for their misguided actions by giving what small help they can to our Project.
Some will say that we should have punished all the Islanders. But we cannot find it in our hearts to condemn them all for being led astray by their leaders, whom they were taught to trust. Two of the Islanders, the specialist Iris Angharads and the Linker Amir Azad, gave their lives in an attempt to resolve this crisis peacefully, and saved the lives of others; we grant mercy in their memory.
Some will say that we should have acted against the Habitats. In spite of our commitment to peace, we were prepared to take such action. The fact that the Habitat-dwellers retreated from a possible conflict only proves that such action is unnecessary, and that we have nothing to fear from the Habitats, who are powerless against us. Let them render what small service they can to our Project and our dream under the supervision of the Islanders.
Many years ago, a small group of Islanders so far forgot their loyalties and responsibilities that they fled to the Habitats. Some will say that, if we allow more Habitat-dwellers to come to the Islands, such an incident might be repeated. We say that a few people in authority here and on the Islands overreacted to that incident, which was the work of only a few malcontents, and thus brought about a situation in which misguided action was inevitable. Now that actual settlements will soon be within our grasp, no Islander is likely to give up the glory of being a settler in order to flee to a Habitat and live among those who were powerless even to help those of their own people whose lives were threatened during this recent unpleasantness.
The Islanders have learned that the Mukhtars cannot be defied or tricked by evildoers. The Project will proceed. Most of us alive now, God willing, will live to see the day when Earthpeople settle a new world. Our great destiny seems inevitable, and that new civilization will enrich our own. A new jewel will shine in the crown of the Nomarchies.
Let God be praised! The guilty have been punished and the innocent, though misguided, spared. We ask that all of you, according to your various faiths, offer prayers of gratitude and thanksgiving that a potentially divisive conflict has been averted through our wisdom and the will of God. The Council of Mukhtars has acted, and is now stronger than ever.
The complete oral and written text of our contract and agreement with the Islands and the Habitats, which will be transmitted on all public channels, follows. . . .
Iris was gone, and he could not bring her back.
Chen imagined that he was in Lincoln again. He remembered the girl with green eyes and the gaze of a Linker. He recalled the feel of the belly that had carried his son. Sometimes he dreamed of lying on her bed, watching her as she turned away from the screen, her face glowing as she told him of some new piece of knowledge she had seized and made her own, and he would long for her voice. At other times, he would remember the feel of her hands and mouth as she loved him, and his body would ache.
He had dreamed of a new life for himself and had made her part of the dream. Sometimes, he forgot that it had been her dream as well, and imagined that Death had led him to her, that he had paid for his dream with Iris's life. Venus had claimed her after all.
Chen remained in his room. He had asked for simple work he could do there with a band. A physician had brought him pills; Chen had swallowed them, welcoming the mindless calm they brought him for brief moments. A Counselor came, speaking to him of Iris's courage and Chen's own bravery; Chen drove the man from his room. He stopped taking the pills; they dulled his memories, which were all he had left of Iris. He received a message from Angharad, and heard her curse him as she wept for her daughter.
Five days after Iris's death, a few of her friends came for him, reminding him gently of the requiem mass they had arranged, and led him to a courtyard at the side of the workers' residence. Hundreds of people had assembled in the courtyard and on the nearby hill. A priest with the pin of a physicist next to the cross on his collar prayed for Iris's soul as the mourners bowed their heads. Chen refused to bow his and kept his eyes on the priest, hating his useless words.
After the prayers, people filed past Chen and murmured words of consolation. Friends from the Institute, workers, and specialists passed by him; he touched their hands, unable to speak. If he spoke, he knew he would cry out his rage and be unable to stem the flow of words. His eyes stung; he could barely recognize the faces that passed.
He went back to his room without speaking to anyone. He fell into a deep sleep, and awoke, not knowing what time it was or how long he had been sleeping.
Someone was outside his door, waiting to come inside. The hum of the sensors had awakened him; the door's light blinked. The small screen beside the door revealed the face of Tonie Wong.
Chen said, "Go away."
"Please let me in."
"Go away."
"I know why you don't want to see me, but please let me in. If you keep to yourself much longer, pretty soon they'll start sending Counselors. Would you rather see me or one of them?"
"Come in, then."
The door opened at his command. Tonie entered. She was carrying a tray; she knelt as she set it on the floor next to him. "When did you last eat?" she asked.