He glanced at the clock on the wall; he had been in this room for six hours now. The room's foodmat had given him some bread and dried fruit, and he had relieved himself in a nearby lavatory, but had not yet had a chance to remove the stubble from his face.
The door to the room opened; a female Guardian entered with a pocket screen. Malik nudged Nikolai awake as the Guardian read off three unfamiliar names and finally their own. “You'll be going to Oberg,” the Guardian said. “That's not a bad place to get started.”
“Why is that?” one of the women asked.
“Oberg was the first place to get settlers,” the Guardian replied. “It's got more people than most of the other domed settlements, and it's kind of a center—the other nine settlements almost see it as a kind of capital.”
“Lucky us,” Nikolai whispered. Malik was relieved that he and Nikolai would not be separated.
The Guardian frowned at the screen. “You—Malik Haddad.” She looked from Nikolai to Malik. “Do you have family or friends here?” Malik shook his head. “Well, somebody's requested you by name. That doesn't usually happen. Normally, people just get sent to where their particular skills are needed.”
The women's eyes narrowed; even Nikolai seemed a bit suspicious. “I can't imagine why anyone would ask specifically for me,” Malik said. “I have no connections here.”
“Let's hope you can all adapt nicely.” The Guardian smiled a little. “It gets to some people, being under a dome all the time—they get to feeling trapped. I've heard of a few people going to pilots and begging to be taken away.”
Nikolai stood up. “That won't happen to me,” he said. “I'll just remember that I finally got away from Earth.”
The remark wasn't one to make to a Guardian, but she seemed indifferent to it. “Your airship leaves in half an hour,” she said at last. “I'll take you to the bay.”
* * * *
Malik, overcome by fatigue, dozed during the airship's descent to Oberg. He awoke when Nikolai poked his arm. “We're here.” The other man sounded a bit apprehensive.
Their fellow passengers were already leaving the cabin. The two men shouldered their packs and followed the others down the ramp into the large bay. Mechanics and workers ignored the new arrivals. When they reached the wide door that led into the dome, Nikolai beckoned to a gray-clad man. “Where are we supposed to go?” he called out.
“Inside and sit down near the door. Somebody'll meet you and tell you what to do.”
The group left the bay. A disk of light floated far above them; a wide halo of paler light surrounded the disk before fading into blackness.
“God be praised,” one of the women muttered as she gazed at the grassy land beyond the door. “We could almost be on Earth.”
Malik wasn't sure he agreed. Oberg, with its cluster of buildings under the disk and small houses that dotted the landscape, might look like a town on Earth, but it did not feel like one. The warm air was thick with the odors of plant life and so still that he found himself longing for a breeze. He felt as though he were enclosed in a terrarium. He glanced toward the low wall that circled the settlement and could see only darkness through the transparent dome above the wall.
A tall blond woman approached them. “You three,” she said to the women, “come with me. We'll find a place to pitch your tents, and then I'll show you where you'll be working.” She led them toward the small plain of tents ahead.
Nikolai took off his pack and sat down. “I hope we won't be living here too long.”
Malik seated himself next to him. A cart carrying cargo and two men rolled by along a roadway; a few workers leaving the bay ignored the seated men. He was beginning to wonder how welcome they would be. A man in a red and black sash standing near the tents caught sight of them, then hurried over.
“Welcome to Oberg,” the man said as he approached; his round, dark face bore a broad smile. “When you've rested from your journey, I hope we'll have a chance to meet again. I'm a member of Ishtar, and we'll do our best to make you feel at home.” Nikolai was about to rise; the man motioned to him to stay seated. “We'll be having another meeting in two days, just after last light, and I know you'll be interested in what our Guide, Kichi Timsen, has to say. Anyone can tell you how to get to her house, and I hope I'll see you there. By the way, my name's Ilom Baraka.”
“What's Ishtar?” Nikolai asked, not bothering to introduce himself.
“A fellowship of those who reach out to the Spirit of this world, and who strive to be true Cytherians,” Ilom replied. “We welcome all who wish to be our brothers and sisters.”
Nikolai rolled his eyes. A pale young man was coming toward them now; Ilom's smile faded. “Any questions you have will be answered at the meeting,” Ilom said quickly. “Farewell.” He hurried away.
“Which one of you is Nikolai Burian?” the pale young man asked.
“I am,” Nikolai replied.
“That fellow must have been telling you about Ishtar. Don't pay any attention.”
“I didn't plan to,” Nikolai responded.
“I'm Jed Severson.” The man shook back his blond hair. “Your record says you worked in a greenhouse and that you're also trained in airship repairs and maintenance.”
Nikolai nodded. This was a revelation to Malik; the young Russian had never mentioned his past.
“That's good,” Jed Severson said. “The more skills you have, the better. You'll be working with my team in the bay, and you can earn extra credit if they need someone in the community greenhouses. After you've been here a while, you can find a household to give you a room, but for now, you'll be over here.” He waved at the tents behind him. “That building back there is the pilots’ dormitory—you can use their foodmats and lavatory.”
Jed thrust his hands into his pockets. “I hope you're not troublemakers.” He turned toward Nikolai. “I didn't see anything on your record that says you are, but I'll give you some advice. We don't have Guardians here on the surface, and we've never needed police. We don't much care to consult Counselors. The Oberg Council can handle disputes, but most people would rather settle them by themselves instead of asking for a public hearing, because the Council can be pretty quick with fines and reprimands.”
“Fines and reprimands?” Nikolai shrugged. “Doesn't sound like too bad a punishment.”
“Get enough reprimands, and people start treating you differently. That may not sound like much, but it can get to you in a community this size, with only about ten thousand people so far. We have to trust each other. When you lose that trust, it's hard to get it back. A reputation means something here.”
“I lived in a small village,” Nikolai said. “I know what that can be like.”
“Make friends,” Jed said, “and keep out of trouble. I wouldn't have to tell you this if you'd been picked by the Project Council or were one of those dreamy Institute graduates, but you came here from a camp.”
“I thought,” Nikolai muttered, “that we were all the same here.”
“Oh, we are.” Jed's mouth twisted. “But some think the Nomarchies are a little too free with dumping your sort here. You weren't born here, and you weren't chosen. You're here because Earth doesn't mind getting rid of you, we can use you, and you don't have anyplace else to go.”
Nikolai got to his feet. “Where do I go now?”
“You can pitch your tent any time. You're free to wander around and get the feel of the place. Come to the bay tomorrow at eight, about an hour after first light—I'll meet you there.”
A young woman was crossing the roadway; Jed turned to greet her. “Risa! What brings you here?”
“I'm supposed to meet an immigrant.” She halted in front of Nikolai. “Malik Haddad?”
Malik stood up and touched his forehead. “I'm Malik Haddad.”
“I'm Risa Liangharad.”
Malik raised a brow, surprised. Benzi had briefly mentioned a sister, but it seemed an unlikely coincidence that this woman, of all people, should have
come here for him. She was short, with wavy shoulder-length dark hair and a sturdy, compact body clothed in a brown shirt and pants. She resembled her Habber brother, but her brown eyes were larger than Benzi's and her cheekbones attractively broad; she was, in fact, quite pretty.
“You're not what I expected,” she said in a flat voice, Her gaze was direct but cold, as if she was sure of her own position and accustomed to the respect of others.
“What did you expect?” he asked lightly, assessing her, looking for a glance or gesture that might betray some interest in him.
She continued to stare, and he could not discern even a faint gleam of interest. “Someone a little more scholarly looking, I suppose. We need a teacher in the west dome's school. That's why we requested you. You'll be living with my household.”
She was assessing him, Malik realized, and she didn't look terribly pleased. He thought of how he must appear, with his unkempt hair, worn clothes, and stubbled face.
“Fortunate for you,” Jed murmured, “getting a room to live in right away, and with a future Council member, too,”
Risa's eyes shifted toward the blond man. “I'm not on the Council yet.”
“You will be. Everyone says so.”
“We'll see.” She waved a hand at Malik. “You look as though you could use a bath and a meal. I hope you're not too tired to walk.”
“I slept on the airship.”
“I've got to get back to work,” Jed said to Nikolai. “I'll see you tomorrow.”
As Jed wandered toward the bay, Nikolai hoisted his pack. “He told me I have the rest of the day to myself,” he said. “Do you mind if I come along with my friend here? I'd like to spend the time finding out more about Oberg.”
“Are you going to be working with Jed?” she asked.
The Russian nodded. “But I was a greenhouse gardener before—that was the work I did in my village, along with homeostat repairs. I spent some of my credit learning airship repair because I wanted to get work in a port, but that was before I decided to go to a camp instead. I'm Nikolai Andreievich Burian.” He smiled; Risa smiled back. Nikolai was wasting no time in telling the woman about himself.
“I don't suppose you know much about greenhouses.” Risa glanced at Malik; he shook his head. “Too bad. Most of us have household greenhouses. It gives the Project a chance to try out new kinds of plants, and us an opportunity to earn some extra credit by selling or trading part of what we raise.”
Malik looked down; apparently she had found something else to hold against him.
“Your friend Jed didn't seem all that happy with us,” Nikolai said. “He doesn't seem to like people from the camps.”
“It's a common feeling, but don't let it worry you. After you've been here a while, you can sit around and complain about the next arrivals. Come along with us if you like.”
Nikolai smoothed back his brown hair. They followed Risa along the side of the main road; a couple of blue-clad female pilots sitting outside their dormitory waved at Risa as they passed. “One man seemed happy to see us,” Nikolai said. “He told us he was in something called Ishtar and asked us to a meeting.”
“Don't bother with them,” she responded. “They're always trying to get their hooks into new settlers. Ishtar's a cult. They think all Cytherians should believe what they do, and they have irrational beliefs about some sort of spirit on this world that they worship.”
“I believe in what I can see, nothing more.”
Risa smiled a little more, obviously approving of Nikolai's answer. They were now near three large, glassy buildings set back from the main road. “Those are the main dome's community greenhouses,” Risa said. “That's where our basic allotment comes from, and we supplement it with what we grow in our household greenhouses. You've got to wear a face mask when you work in there. The plants do better with a higher percentage of carbon dioxide, and it gives us a chance to test the strains that may thrive outside someday.” She stopped to point at two long, low buildings in back of the greenhouses. “We've got laboratories there, and the building to the right refines and recycles. That's where we'll all end up, so useful elements can be extracted from our bodies. Of course, you'll get your space on one of the memorial pillars.”
They walked on. “What's this Council Jed mentioned?” Nikolai asked.
“The Oberg Council. It has five members, who are elected by the settlers in these domes. The Council listens to complaints, settles any disputes people can't work out privately, or appeals to the Island Administrators if necessary. Occasionally, it meets with the Councils of the other settlements.”
“And everyone here picks the members? They aren't chosen by the Administrators?”
“No,” Risa said. “This is our home. If we have a problem specialists should handle, we go to them, but we make our own decisions about a lot of things. When you've been here for two years, you'll get to vote as well.”
“We heard everyone has a say here,” Nikolai said. “I'm glad to know it's true.”
She glanced at him. “I'm always surprised at how many of you come here knowing so little about us.”
“What do we have to know, except that we'll be freer here and able to build something for ourselves?”
“Come with me.” The three crossed the road and moved toward the low wall at the base of the dome. “Look out there.”
Malik peered through the dome. Lightning flashed for a second, revealing black, barren mountains so high he could see no valleys below. Droplets of acid rain glistened on the impermeable dome surface; in the distance, on another rocky shelf, he glimpsed the faint glow of another settlement. He had assumed that one reason for using a transparent material for these domes was to keep the settlers from feeling too closed in, but this sight made him uneasy and aware of how precarious humanity's hold on this world was.
“We have our limits, Nikolai,” Risa continued. “The Mukhtars may often be far from our thoughts, but we aren't exactly free to do as we please. Out there, the atmospheric pressure would crush you, the heat would boil your blood, and the rain would eat away at your bones. Every time there's a quake, the dome's able to withstand it, but we have to send out our diggers and crawlers to make sure rocks are cleared away, and then see that none of our installations have been damaged.”
She turned around and leaned against the wall. “Oberg has three domes with settlers and a fourth being made ready for more, but everything we build has to be maintained. Every Cytherian, including the children, learns at least one skill that can aid the community as a whole. Every action has to be measured against certain limits. You may, like many immigrants, be wondering why we don't clear more land for houses here so that you don't have to live in a tent, but those trees and plants help to maintain our oxygen level inside. We have a small lake in the center of the west dome, but it isn't there just for our pleasure—it and the streams you'll see keep the air from becoming too arid.” She paused. “Much of the work we do involves simply trying to hang on to what we have.”
“You almost make it sound like Earth,” Nikolai said.
She shook her head. “Not quite. You'll have a chance to learn more than you would have there because that may make you a wiser and more valuable citizen. You'll be rewarded for good work, not just with credit, but with the respect others will give you if you earn it. You can make your life what you want it to be, instead of letting the Mukhtars and their representatives decide that for you. You can know that your children have a dream and a purpose. That's our real freedom—to know that our children will have more.”
“I guess that's enough for me,” Nikolai responded. “I don't mind work, as long as there's some reason for it. I couldn't see living and dying and making no difference to anybody, and that's what it was like where I was.”
Risa was clearly devoted to her world. She seemed, Malik thought, totally without guile, unlike most of the people he had known. “You must be an inspiration to your own children,” he said.
Her eyes grew colder.
“I have no children.”
“Surely some young man has made a pledge to you by now.”
“No.”
“In your case,” Malik said, “with your attributes, certainly a temporary state of affairs.”
She gazed at him indifferently. “My home's in the west dome,” she said in a toneless voice. “I share it with my father, his companion Bettina Christies, and her son, Paul. The woman Paul loves is pregnant now, so she'll be joining us when she becomes his bondmate.” She moved away from the wall and led them toward the main road again.
“When did you come here?” Nikolai asked.
“I was born on Island Two. I came here with my father when I was eight, with the first settlers. My mother died some time earlier.” She fell silent, apparently determined to say nothing about her mother's deeds or the brother who had become a Habber.
They neared a slope that led from the road toward an opening under the wall. Risa nodded and smiled at a group of women as they walked by, then went ahead into the tunnel.
* * * *
Risa's house was smaller than Malik had expected. He glanced around at the common room and the narrow hallways on either side of it, wondering where she would find space for him.
“That's Bettina's wing.” Risa pointed to her left. “She has a small examining room where she can see people with complaints—she's a physician. We added a small lavatory for her recently. That's a bit of a luxury, but sometimes her patients need to use it. Our bathroom's over there, second door to the right.” She turned toward the other hallway. “Which one of you wants to wash first?”
Nikolai chuckled. “Do we reek that much?”
“I've smelled worse.”
“Go ahead, Malik,” Nikolai said expansively. “I could use a meal, if you don't mind.”
Malik walked to the hallway, noting the space as he moved toward the bathroom; these rooms had to be small. In the bathroom, there was barely enough space to set down his pack. The water in the tiny stall was tepid, and probably recycled. When he had finished bathing, he slapped depilatory cream to his face, wiped off his beard, and changed into clean clothes.
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