He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His features were so perfect that they were unnerving; she had been relieved to notice the slight hook of his slender nose, a minor defect that made him seem more human. She had glimpsed a sad, pensive look in his eyes that drew her sympathy, as well as a darker, more passionate glance that hinted at strong emotions.
She had persuaded herself that living as she did might make her better able to advise those who came to her with their problems, which she could then view with a detached objectivity unmarred by sentiment and too great an attachment to another human being. She had imagined finding a bondmate who would be a friend and companion and ask for little more.
Malik's presence had upset those plans. She wanted him to care about her even when she acted in ways that would discourage him. She sensed his need; even worse, she suspected that he knew what she felt.
She could guess at how he saw her. She was pretty enough in her own way, but he was probably used to beauties. She had some learning, but Malik was no doubt accustomed to wit and brilliance. She was a woman who had never lived anywhere except on Island Two and then in Oberg; he was familiar with several of Earth's cities. She knew none of the classical, formal Arabic Malik favored; his talk of the poetry and literature he loved made her feel even more ignorant. She could never be anything to him except a provincial settler and a passing amusement.
What kind of advice could she give herself? To take him as a lover if he were willing or else to put him out of her mind. She could find another household that might give Malik a room.
“Risa!” a voice called out as she turned toward the path leading to her door. Nikolai Burian came toward her from the tunnel; she remembered then that Malik had mentioned inviting the young man to dinner.
She smiled as he came to her side. “It's good to see you again. How are things going?”
“Better. Jed's starting to treat me like everyone else. I'm learning how to repair diggers in my spare time—can't hurt to learn another skill.”
“Has anyone offered you a place to live?”
“Not yet.” Nikolai tilted his head. “I wouldn't ask for much—just a place to unroll a mat, and maybe a chance to get to know a woman as pretty as you.”
She flushed a little. It was too bad that she was not more attracted to Nikolai. He wouldn't scorn her lack of learning; he might be grateful she wasn't overly educated. His interest in her was evident. Part of her attraction for him might lie in the fact that she was a person of some importance here, but she could not object to that. He was the kind of man who would make a good companion, even a bondmate. Encouraging him might help her put thoughts of Malik from her mind. But such dishonesty was repellent—a pretense of caring for one man so that she would not have to confront her growing feelings for another.
“You'll find a home before too long,” she said.
He took a step along the path, then halted. “I wanted to ask you—how's Malik getting along?”
“He seems fine. I don't see that much of him except in the evenings, and he's usually preparing lessons or reading then. He brought quite a nice microdot library with him, with books we don't have here. Most of what we have was recorded from Island libraries and whatever Earth can send when the channels aren't taken up with essential communications. Some of his students seem quite taken with him already—especially the girls.”
Nikolai chuckled. “I'd expect that. Is there any other work he can do?”
“I suggested that he offer his services as a tutor,” she replied.
“Screen lessons can teach.”
“True, but some people happily pay teachers to go over the lessons with them or just to discuss what they've learned—debate, ask questions, suggest other readings, and so forth. It's a little more interesting sometimes to have a real teacher to talk to instead of a screen image with programmed responses, and a few who didn't have a chance at more advanced learning can enjoy a lecture or a seminar.”
Nikolai shrugged. “People have fun in different ways, I guess.”
“Why were you curious about Malik?” she asked.
“I worry about him a little. That probably sounds strange.” He walked toward a tree and leaned against it. “It's a good thing he came here when he did. He might not have lasted that long in the camp. A lot of people avoided him. One man tried to start a fight with him once, and I don't think it was just because Malik was sleeping with his sister.”
So there had been a woman in the camp. That did not surprise her.
“It's funny,” the young man continued, “but I felt kind of sorry for him, knowing he was a Linker once. That camp was hard for him, even if he tried not to show it. The rest of us could look forward to having something more, but he's never going to have what he had.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“He doesn't belong here, really. He'll be thinking of what he lost.”
“He has more than most new settlers get right away,” she said, “interesting work and a place to live.”
Nikolai moved away from the tree. “I wanted to ask you something else, Risa. You don't know much about me, so you don't have to give me an answer—you can just think it over, maybe. I wouldn't mind staying here and helping in your greenhouse. I can get up earlier to go to the bay, and I'll sleep in the hallway or the kitchen if there's no other space.”
Risa did not know what to say. With Nikolai's assistance, the greenhouse might earn more credit for the household; if she was elected to the Oberg Council, which seemed likely, she might need extra help here.
“It's something to consider,” she responded at last. “I'll have to look at your record, of course. For that matter, you may want to examine ours.”
“I've seen a little of what your people are like. Listening to a public record probably won't tell me anything new. You won't find much to hold against me. I didn't leave any kids on Earth. There was a girl I wanted for a bondmate, but she wouldn't follow me to the camp. I missed her for a while, but that's past.”
“I'll think about this,” she said. “It isn't just up to me—the others will have something to say about it. If they're agreeable, you could probably use Tina's examining room at night. I'll let you know as soon as possible.”
“Thanks.” He took her arm. “I think I'd like it here.”
They walked toward the door. Perhaps if Nikolai were living here, she could ignore Malik.
* * * *
Risa felt restless. She sat down on her bed and stared at the small screen in one corner of her room. She would call Sigurd Kristens-Vitos tomorrow; the Administrator did not need to be bothered with Andrew Dinel's petty affairs at this hour. It was too late to visit Leilani; she could speak to her after talking to Sigurd.
Nikolai had done his best to be friendly during dinner. He had congratulated Grazie and Paul on their pledge, asked Chen about his carvings, and entertained Bettina with a few bawdy jokes. Her household probably wouldn't mind having him live here for a while. Chen would still be awake; she could see what he thought of the idea.
She crossed the room and opened her door. Malik, with a towel draped over his bare shoulders, was about to enter his own room; he turned his head.
“I was just going to talk to my father,” she said as she gestured at the door to Chen's room.
“Nothing important, I hope. I think he's with Tina—I saw him enter her room just a little while ago.”
“Oh.” She looked down, feeling awkward. “Well, it can wait until breakfast, then. Kolya asked me before if there might be room for him here, and I said I'd speak to everyone about it.”
“That's your decision,” he said.
“Yours, too, now that you're living with us.”
“I'm more of a guest,” Malik responded. “Anyway, I don't have any objection. Kolya looked out for me before, and he'd be of use to you, I think. How long would he stay?”
“That depends. We'd offer him an informal, private agreement stating our obligations to each other—how mu
ch credit he'd contribute to the household, things like that. Eventually, he can decide if he wants to stay on as part of the household or build his own house somewhere else. There's still plenty of room here and in the southeast dome, but if he waits until the south dome is ready to be occupied, he'd have his choice of sites.”
Malik pressed his door open. “Would you like to come in?” he asked. “We haven't had much time to talk since I arrived.”
She wanted to refuse. This is my house, she told herself; I ought to listen to what he has to say if he's going to be living here.
He stepped aside, allowing her to enter; the door slid shut behind him. She sat down quickly on the floor, leaving him the cushion in the corner. He smoothed down his pants before seating himself. His torso was broader than it had seemed under his shirts; his chest was covered with swirls of hair that fanned out over his upper body before narrowing into a thin dark line.
“Actually, I thought you might be able to advise me,” he said, “since you say you're sometimes helpful to others. I can't help feeling I'm already a disappointment.”
“Have Theron and the other teachers found fault with you?”
He shook his head. “It isn't that—as far as I know, they think I'm doing reasonably well up to now. I think you're sorry I'm here.”
She lifted her head. “What makes you think that?”
“We're sharing a house, yet even in these close quarters, you try to avoid me. Maybe you can tell me what I'm doing wrong so that I can remedy my faults.”
“I've been busy,” Risa replied. “As it is, I'm going to have to spend my day off settling another problem. I don't really have any complaints about you—we're just getting used to you, that's all. In fact, I think you've behaved quite well, under the circumstances.”
“What circumstances are those?”
“You know.” She should not be bringing this up. “You don't think we always have so many neighbors stopping by before and after dinner, do you?” Almost every young woman in the vicinity, or so it seemed, had found an excuse to visit lately. Even her friend Noella, with a pledge to Theron pending, had not been above flirting a little with Malik while hinting heavily that Theron would overlook any trysts before the ceremony. “About the only thing they haven't done is to throw themselves at your feet. You're very strong-willed to resist such temptations.”
“You warned me the first night I was here. I have to live with these people.” He sighed. “I'm not strong, Risa. Maybe I'm just tired of all that. Every time, I'd think maybe this one would be different, and I'd feel I was in love for a while, and then another woman would come along.” He sounded bitter. “It gets to be a habit. There was always someone else—they'd make it so easy that I couldn't refuse. It's like being at a banquet where there's always some new delicacy to tempt you even when you've eaten enough, and then it's more like an addiction. The longer it goes on, the less satisfying it is, and in the end, I went to Tashkent alone.”
She recalled what Nikolai had told her. “I doubt you were alone for long.”
“There was someone. I didn't love her, but I needed her. She wasn't a beautiful woman, and what learning she had was limited to some screen lessons, but she had an inner strength I admired. I see something of that in you. I didn't see it in most of the women I knew. Maybe it was there and they simply had no need to develop it.”
Risa pressed her back against the wall. He was sitting too close to her; she wanted to retreat from the tiny room.
“I still can't believe I'm here,” he continued. “I keep thinking that I'll suddenly get a call telling me I've been forgiven, that I can be a Linker again and return to Earth—not that such unlikely good fortune could really befall me. Even if it did, I'd remember how precarious my position would always be.”
“You have to forget your former life,” she said. “People who get too nostalgic about Earth make others wonder how committed they are to this life. It's not as if you can't earn respect here.”
“Have you more advice to give me?”
“You might see if some parents want additional tutoring for their children—you could earn extra credit that way. You may even find adults who'd like some tutoring or a few seminars and lectures—when people get a little more prosperous, they often like to take on a few airs.”
“Anything else?”
“Try to learn a worker's skill. Your teaching counts as work for the Project as a whole, but we can always use mechanics and greenhouse gardeners. Or you could learn how to operate the robots, diggers, and crawlers. The more you can do, the more valuable you'll be.”
“And what other advice can you offer?”
Was she supposed to tell him how to lead his life? Risa sighed impatiently, then noticed the earnest, almost desperate look in his brown eyes. She had known men who had the usual weaknesses of a quick temper, obstinacy, impatience, insensitivity, or pride, but she had never encountered one who seemed so unable to help himself.
“Why did you go to a camp, anyway?” she asked. “You could have stayed on Earth. Even in disgrace, someone with your training and connections shouldn't have had that hard a life.”
“My family would have been embarrassed further if I'd remained, but that wasn't the only reason. I couldn't see any purpose in staying and hoping others would help me eventually. I had to do something for myself, however incapable of that I prove to be.”
He wanted to be stronger than he was; there was something to admire in that. “Don't dwell on your doubts,” she said. “You won't feel the same way when you've been here a while, after you begin to see yourself as a Cytherian. You'll have your work and your new friends, and when you find a bondmate and have your own children, you'll understand why you're here, and know you're working for those who'll follow you.”
She was about to rise when he took her hand. “Stay with me, Risa.”
“I can't,” she whispered.
“Why not?” He pressed her hand against his cheek, then released her. “But perhaps I'm not the sort of man you want. Someone like Kolya would undoubtedly be a better choice.”
“For someone else, maybe. I don't think he could be more to me than a friend.”
“Then why?”
“Maybe I'm simply too proud to be just another in what must be a long list by now.”
“You wouldn't be saying that,” he said, “if you didn't feel something for me. My past would hardly matter otherwise.” He reached for her hand again. “I wanted you when I first saw you. That's natural enough—you're attractive and I was lonely, but oddly enough, I feel more for you now. I can't promise that anything will come of it, but it might if you give it a chance.” His mouth twisted a little. “What trite words I can utter. I'm usually a bit more eloquent, but I want to be honest with you. Stay with me. At the very least, we could share—”
“You'd hurt me sooner or later.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She lowered her eyes; his hand gripped hers more tightly. “I have a sense for things like that,” she said. “It's useful when I give advice—I have to know what might be too much for someone. I wouldn't help people by giving them advice they can't follow.”
“And what if you're wrong about me? You're willing to risk living here, where any number of mistakes could bring trouble, and yet you won't reach out to a man who wants you when there's no reason to hold back.”
People had come to her with all sorts of problems, but never with troubles of the heart. Perhaps they sensed that she had no expertise in that area, that she was either incapable of love or afraid of it, that she was unwilling to take any risk that might bring her love.
I wouldn't be chancing that much, she thought; I'm free, and at worst I'd have a pleasant interlude to remember later. Malik would be kind as long as he was living in her house, and when he left, as he surely would one day, his absence would make it easier to forget him. She could even tell herself that she was helping him by keeping him from being tempted by more troublesome entanglements.
/> He stood up and drew her to him. As he embraced her, she forgot all of her rationalizations and thought only of him.
Nine
Sigurd Kristens-Vitos had made time to speak directly with Risa Liangharad, as he usually did, even though the matter she had raised hardly merited much discussion. Too many of his fellow Islanders, especially the other Administrators, did not take the trouble to maintain contacts with individual dome-dwellers. It was important to have the settlers feel that the Islanders were Cytherians, too, and not just people indifferently watching over the domes from above.
There were, he mused, still some Islanders who considered the domed communities a premature development. The work of terraforming might have gone on without them; settling the world below could have waited until the surface had cooled and a few of the Parasol's shades could be removed. A few Islanders might not even mind if the settlements were abandoned; the specialists here would still have their scientific work to occupy them, while knowing that their own descendants would be the ones to inherit Venus.
Sigurd, however, felt an obligation to the settlers. Whatever Earth's reasons were for wanting surface settlements, the people in them had committed their lives to this world.
Sigurd nodded at the image of Risa on his wall screen. “You handled the problem well enough,” he said. “I'll have one of my aides deal with the matter of Andrew Dinel's whiskey, and we'll make it clear that anyone else producing such products will be expected to show some restraint in how they're distributed. Forbidding them altogether would only create more problems later—even the early Mukhtars, despite their devotion to the holy Koran, learned that.”
“I'm sorry I had to bother you with this,” Risa replied. “Sometimes I think Andy's getting a bit above himself. He'll probably be flattered that one of your aides will be paying such attention to him.”
Sigurd tapped his fingers on the small table in front of his screen. Andrew Dinel deserved a reprimand for not being more responsible instead of additional credit from his enterprise. He smiled at that thought. He was an Administrator and had to use such people or work around them rather than forcing them to adhere to the Project's ideals.
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