Venus of Shadows

by Pamela Sargent

  A few other Islanders had bed-partners among Habbers; the Habbers treated such entanglements with the same lack of concern as Tesia apparently viewed theirs. Perhaps the Habbers also joked about such encounters in secret or else saw them as a way to reach out to the people they were helping. He could not know; there was so little that he knew about Tesia even now. Their talk was of the Project; their lovemaking was a search for purely physical pleasures. He knew nothing about her past before she had come to Island Two three years ago, not even how old she was. Her slender body was hardly more developed than a young girl's, but her eyes never revealed a young person's uncertainty. Her mind was locked away from his, and her Link was closed to him, although he sometimes wondered if it remained open to other Habbers even during their most intimate moments.

  She knew as little about his thoughts, he supposed. She was unaware of how much it pained him now to speak slightingly of her; he longed for her too often lately. He wanted to tell her how he really felt, but loyalty to his own people held back the words he wanted to speak.

  He stroked Tesia's hair; his hands were soon moving over her body. She helped him out of his clothes, caressing him as she did so, then drew him down next to her. She had never refused him, had always responded to him, had never shown any sign of hurt or disappointment on the few occasions when he had gently refused her overtures because of sudden doubts and fears. He explored her with his fingers and tongue until she was ready for him and listened to her soft sighs and gasps as he entered. She shuddered and sighed; her cheeks flushed as she moaned. For a moment, the barriers between them were gone.

  The moment passed; he withdrew and lay silently at her side. “Sigurd,” she whispered. Her hand touched his face; he could almost imagine that she too was holding back words that she wanted to speak.

  She kissed him, then sat up slowly; he ran his hand along the ridges other ribs as she stretched. She turned her head; the distant look in her hazel eyes had returned.

  “You seem troubled,” she said. Her expression did not change, but her voice was a little warmer.

  “I had a conversation with Rafi ibn-Ali before coming here. He thinks he may be leaving us soon—in fact, he hinted that the Guardians might be removed from the Islands altogether.” He paused. “Your people would probably find that a welcome development.”

  “Earth will hardly take our feelings into account. But removing the Guardians would show that your people are now considered trustworthy, as well as saving Earth the expense of keeping them here. Frankly, I think it would improve morale on the Islands, and that can only be to the Project's benefit. There's no point in my people raising the issue—that might only convince the Project Council that the Guardians should stay on. Actually, I'm not so sure that some of my people would welcome their absence.”

  “And why not?” he asked.

  “They provide a kind of balance. Having them here quells some of the Mukhtars’ suspicions and makes them feel that they're still in control of the Project. They know that many of my people are reluctant to come here as long as Guardians are present, but there are enough of us here to give you what aid you need. Without them, matters could become more uncertain. Maybe the Mukhtars only want to see if you and your fellow Administrators can keep control of this Project without them, or if you'll move closer to us and give them an excuse to expel us once and for all.”

  “I've had similar thoughts,” he said.

  “The Guardians also provide a focus for any resentments your people may feel. If they were to leave, that would remove one source of discontent and perhaps convince your surface settlers that Earth has no intention of interfering too much in their lives. But they'd also be freer to direct their resentment toward us.”

  Sigurd frowned. “You've always claimed that Habbers only want to help, with no aim other than observing us and learning what you can. It doesn't matter how the dome-dwellers feel about you as long as you can work together, and I'm sure—”

  “Earth may want to see if their resentment of us will flower,” she said. “That could work to the Mukhtars’ advantage.” Tesia lifted her head. “You'll inform your colleagues of my thoughts, of course. They'd enjoy thinking that we're worried over what might happen.”

  “You don't sound like a Habber now, Tesia.”

  “Maybe I'm becoming more like one of you. Those of us who come here are often those who feel more distant from other Habitat-dwellers, and perhaps that makes us more vulnerable to certain mental afflictions. I was young when I came here, young even by your standards. My Link is often closed now, and I wonder if I could be fully a part of my world again even if I went back.” Tesia bowed her head; she seemed very young then, hardly more than a child. “You can tell your friends that, too—it ought to provide them with some amusement.”

  Was Tesia being honest with him? Was she trying to say that her feelings for him were as troubled as his for her? “Your people say they're helping us,” he said at last. “But you're also contending with Earth for the future, whether you admit it or not. You want to drive a wedge between Cytherians and Earth, and you'd enjoy seeing Habbers in control of what comes to pass. That would be a victory for you, seeing the Mukhtars lose their hold on their greatest accomplishment, and turning it into your achievement.” His words were harsher than he had intended. She had spoken more openly of her feelings than she ever had before, but he could think only of how little he still knew her.

  “I thought you knew me better than that,” she said.

  “I don't know you at all. Maybe you think you can manipulate me, but my only loyalty is to this Project. I may complain about the hold Earth has on us, but only because it's an unnecessary distraction. I may seem sympathetic to your people, but only because you can help us. I won't see Earth's domination replaced by yours, whatever your designs.”

  Her hand rested on his arm for a moment. “Your argument isn't with my people, Sigurd—it's with me. I don't want to manipulate you. I don't want anything from you except—”

  “Except what?”

  Her face paled; he had never seen her look so distressed. “I should open my Link and steady myself,” she whispered. “I care too much about you. I thought you saw that, that it didn't need to be said. But even love is a struggle for power with your people, isn't it? We can't be just two people sharing part of ourselves. I know you run some risk in being with me at all, whatever you've done to minimize the danger. Maybe I should show my concern by sending you away and telling you there can be no more between us.”

  “That isn't what I want,” he admitted. He lay down and pulled her to his side, wanting only to hold her for a while. His feelings would not prevent him from telling others what she had said to him. He might want to love her openly and freely, and he felt some joy in knowing that she cared for him more deeply, but he would not forget his duty. If Tesia interfered with his obligations, he would have to give her up or find a way to use her.

  He supposed that she harbored similar notions. She might want only love from him now, but she would not give up what she was for that love; she would choose her people over him. They were never likely to see a time when they could share any more than what they already had.

  He kissed her gently, as though in apology for his thoughts.

  Ten

  The explosion happened two hours before Risa was to go off duty. It ripped through one of the installations adjoining the west dome, shattering panels, circuitry, part of a computer, and several of the conduits that held oxygen extracted from the atmosphere of carbon dioxide.

  The heavy walls of the installation contained the explosion, and the dome was unaffected, but the damaged interior of the bunker would have to be repaired.

  Alasid immediately took charge of his team. Three other installations would continue to extract oxygen for the west dome; unless something went wrong in one of them, there was no need to issue a general alert. Finding the cause of the accident, and whether a worker's earlier carelessness had brought it about, would
have to wait.

  Risa and two other workers quickly guided robots into the bunker and began to clear away debris while the damage to the system was assessed. Two small carts on treads entered the bunker's lock; Risa's job now was to sort out relatively undamaged parts from those damaged beyond repair. The carts would carry the material to the digger and crawler bay; there, other workers would salvage what they could.

  She worked, unaware of how much time was passing, then felt a hand on her shoulder. “Risa,” a voice said. For a moment, she felt disoriented, her mind still with the robot, her body stiff with tension in her chair.

  She took off her band and looked up at Alasid's broad face. “Go home and get some rest,” he said. “An engineering team's here, along with the next shift. They'll work through the night on that installation.”

  “I can finish—”

  He shook his head. “You've been at this long enough—I don't want you making mistakes. It's the engineers’ job now.”

  She blinked and rubbed at her eyes. A few engineers were already in the room; Noella Sanger was among them. Risa's head throbbed. “I'll need you back here by twelve,” Alasid was saying to the rest of his team. “No point in coming here just after first light. By then, we should be ready to make that bunker operational again.” Risa noticed then that the engineers were staring at her pointedly.

  “Congratulations, Risa,” Willem Van Eyck called out from across the room.

  “For what?” she asked as she stood up.

  Noella came to her side. “The last votes were registered just before I left my house. You're now officially a member of the Oberg Council.”

  Risa managed a smile, too tired to feel gratified. Her thoughts were still on the accident, less serious than it might have been but still a reminder of how precarious their lives here were. “I didn't think—”

  “I suppose it just slipped your mind after you cast your own vote,” Noella said more softly. “You don't have to be modest with me.” The tall blond woman walked with Risa toward the door. “Go home and celebrate a little with Malik—it'll be something new for him, having a Council member sharing his bed. I've got to get to work.”

  Risa hastened from the room before anyone else could congratulate her. She was beginning to regret that she had confided in Noella, although her friend would have found out about Malik sooner or later from another member of Risa's household. Noella seemed convinced that her attachment to Malik would eventually become more formal, while Grazie Lauro, whose child would be born in less than six months, kept asking when Risa and Malik intended to have their contraceptive implants removed. Even Chen was assuming that Malik would become a more permanent member of his household before long. Risa had not told any of them that Malik seemed content to leave matters as they were.

  The dome was nearly dark as Risa emerged from the External Operations Center. She walked until she came to a small bridge leading over a stream near the lake, crossed it, and strode past Andrew Dinel's house and the dwellings near his until she reached the path that led to her home. She glanced past the trees lining the path; most of the windows of the houses she passed were unlit, their inhabitants now asleep. At least she would not have to endure more congratulations.

  Her mouth twisted. She had expected the victory, in spite of her comment to Noella; it was not only her fatigue that robbed her of the joy she should have felt. Malik was the source of her discontent. She had learned that she could feel love after all, but instead of filling a void in her life, that love had revealed other needs in her without satisfying them. She was afraid that she wanted more from Malik than he could give; her love was making her doubt herself. She had deceived herself by thinking that she could control her feelings for the man.

  Malik was now earning extra credit with tutoring, but he showed no interest in learning any practical skills. He was like a few other people in Oberg, who seemed content to work at tasks they chose while trying to avoid any they found uncongenial, and Malik was doing well enough with his small students now that he had learned more patience. His looks and his courteous manner had helped him to make friends; people easily found excuses for his lack of more enterprise. Malik was a learned man and a former Linker who had held a high place; better to value him for what he was and to be grateful that one of such unusual accomplishments lived among them. It was as if seeing Malik labor at more humble tasks might tarnish him somehow.

  Risa understood such attitudes because Malik could evoke similar feelings in her. She was always mindful of what he had lost and dreaded doing anything that might bring an unhappy look into his eyes. Pressing him to attempt more work usually evoked such unhappy glances; gentle questions about his feelings for her brought only poetic words about love that did not address their possible future together. She had learned not to discuss the problems that others brought to her after he had criticized her for being too hard in her judgments; he was willing to let her shoulder those burdens alone.

  She could become aroused whenever she recalled the touch of his hands or his practiced, demanding kisses; she could still marvel at his slender, muscled body and perfect face. He had not sought out other women; gossip would have reached her by now if he had. She should be content; wasn't love the willingness to accept someone for what he was?

  How could she ever imagine that he might pledge himself to her? He was the kind of man to take as a lover, not as a bondmate. She had put off having children for too long, but to have his child would be folly; he would fill the child's head with fancies and impractical dreams or dwell on his own disappointments. She no longer knew why she wanted a child. Was it to continue her line, to have a young one to nurture and teach, to reach out through her descendants to Venus's future? Or did she only seek to bind Malik to her more closely?

  Nikolai was coming out of the greenhouse as she neared her door. “You're working late,” she said.

  “No later than you. I got back late from the airship bay. We heard another rumor about the Guardians from one of the pilots—she says Earth might be removing them from the Islands and stationing some of them on Anwara with the Guardians there.”

  “Maybe they've finally realized they're not needed on the Islands.” Sigurd Kristens-Vitos had not mentioned the Guardians, but that was not a matter he was likely to discuss with her.

  “By the way, congratulations,” Nikolai said. “Your father said he was going to wait up and share a drink with you, but I wanted to tell you myself.”

  She thought, not for the first time, of how sensible it would be to have someone like Nikolai as a bondmate; it was too bad her feelings refused to follow her reason. Perhaps Malik, with his skill in bed and his poetic professions of love, had made it impossible for her ever to be content with another man.

  “I've been thinking,” he continued. “Now that you're going to be busy with the Council, you'll need even more help around here, and somebody you can count on. I spoke about this to Chen and Paul before, and they didn't mind the idea. Maybe I could become a real member of this household.”

  “I can't think of any argument against it,” she replied, “but you've only been with us a month and a half. Are you sure that's what you want? You'd have a chance to build your own quarters after you've been here a while.”

  “We'd be better off as partners, and I can do well enough working here. It makes more sense than starting my own household—I mean, if it's all right with you.”

  “Well, I'm grateful that we won't be losing you.”

  “I can add a couple of rooms to Tina's wing—there'd be almost as much space for me there as I'd have in my own house, and it wouldn't cost so much credit to build.”

  She smiled. “A couple of rooms?”

  “Grazie and Paul'll need some extra space for their child.” Nikolai gazed at his feet as he thrust his hands into his pockets. “And there's Emilia. We get along, and she kind of hinted that she'd rather live here if we ever decide to make a pledge—with her brothers and her cousins, there wouldn't be much room
in her house for us.”

  Emilia Knef was an apprentice of Chen's. Risa had noticed that the young woman and Nikolai often spent evenings talking under the trees outside, but she had not realized the pair had grown so close. She would have seen that, she supposed, if Malik were not distracting her so often. “Emilia's hardly more than a girl.”

  “She's old enough to know what she wants, and she's a good worker. I thought you ought to know—I'm kind of serious about her, so I wanted to be sure she'd be welcome later on.”

  “Of course she is. Chen would be pleased—he says she's one of the quickest apprentices he's had.” That would simplify matters; she would no longer have to reproach herself for being unable to feel more for Nikolai. The young Russian was eminently practical; having seen that Risa's affections had already been claimed by Malik, he had turned his attention elsewhere. She felt a twinge of regret.

  “Malik ought to think about making a pledge to you,” Nikolai muttered.

  “Maybe he doesn't feel he knows me well enough for such a commitment.”

  “Why wait? I don't know what more he could want. He reads too much of that history in his library—he talks about things that happened a hundred years ago as if they happened yesterday. Maybe he thinks he'll be alive forever and have time to decide everything later. I could talk some sense into him.”

  “Don't,” she said firmly. “I won't have him feel that he has to—”

  “You won't be around forever, either. You ought to think of yourself.”

  She did not want to discuss Malik any more. She pressed her hand against the door. As it opened, she saw her father at his table, staring at a carving. She had thought that Malik might have waited up with him to congratulate her; she should have known better.