Chen lifted his head, then stood up quickly. His face was troubled; he did not look as though he was about to offer any congratulations. “You didn't have to wait up for me,” she said as she walked toward him. “What's wrong? Don't tell me that you decided to cast your vote for someone else.”
He did not smile. “Dawud al-Askar called just a little while ago,” Chen said quietly. “I'm only giving you his message because I promised him I would. He thought you'd want to know. Pavel Gvishiani's dying. Dawud doesn't think he'll last longer than a day or two more.”
Risa tensed, suddenly alert, her tiredness gone. “Did he say—” She swallowed. “Is Pavel still conscious? Is a physician looking after him?”
“I didn't ask.” Her father scowled; she had never seen such a dark look on his face. “Your mother died because of him. He had to play for time instead of preventing that—do you think I can ever forget? She could have been here now, alive, with me. I'll be glad to see him dead.”
“That's past,” Risa replied.
“It'll never be past for me. He thought he could use her—that's why she died.”
“Pavel did what he felt he had to do, and Iris did the same. She knew the risk she was taking—don't demean her memory by calling her a tool of Pavel's.” Her voice had risen; she choked back more words.
Chen took a step toward her. “I can understand why others would forget,” he said, “but not my own daughter. I should have tried to stop you from seeing him at all, but I thought you'd come to see things my way. Well, he'll be dead soon enough.”
“Whatever he did,” she burst out, “we're here because of it. Whatever mistakes he made, he was thinking of this world. He's paid for what he did.”
“He didn't pay enough.”
“And he's been my friend,” she shouted, “almost like another father.”
Chen raised his arm; for a moment, she thought he might strike her. “You shame your mother's memory by saying that!”
“I have to go to him. I should be there to say farewell to him.”
Chen lowered his arm as he looked away. Malik had entered the common room; Risa glanced at him briefly. “Stay with my father,” she whispered to Nikolai before she hurried from the house.
* * * *
By the time she reached Pavel's house in the main dome, her strength was nearly gone. The old man was dying; she had expected it but not so soon. She had visited him only a few days earlier; he had listened attentively and patiently while she discussed her feelings about Malik and her doubts about herself—matters she could not discuss with Chen, who would only find them another failing.
Jeannine Loris, another Council member, greeted Risa at the door. Other visitors had gathered with Pavel's household in the common room. Risa beckoned to Dawud; he walked toward her. “How is he now?” she asked.
“A physician's with him,” Dawud's eyes were resigned rather than sorrowful. “He was awake before, but he might be sleeping now.”
“May I see him?”
“The others have. He'd want to see you. Go ahead.”
She went to Pavel's room. The old man lay in his bed, eyes closed; Gupta Benares was leaning over him. A small scanner sat on the table next to the bed; she saw no other medical equipment.
Gupta's dark eyes met hers. “It's his heart,” he said; the physician's brown face was composed. “He had an attack a few hours ago. I estimate that he may have a day or two more without intervention.”
She clasped her hands together. “Why aren't you doing anything, then? He should be in the infirmary. Can't you—”
“Intervening now will only prolong his passing, and the strain of moving him might kill him. He's refused treatment. I told him he should have had a heart replacement before, but he didn't want it and our facilities are limited in any case.”
“There must be something you can do.”
“He's made his choice.”
She moved closer to the bed. Pavel opened his eyes. “Risa.” His voice was faint. She knelt and bent her head toward him. “I trust you aren't going to cry. I heard the news about you. I'm a little sorry that I won't see you on the Council myself.”
“But you can. Tell Gupta to take you to the infirmary.”
“And have limited medical resources prolong an old man's life? That doesn't sound like a new Council member speaking or the daughter of Iris Angharads.” He was silent for a moment. “What Venus could get out of me now wouldn't be worth the effort.”
“He can help you,” she insisted.
“Stop it, Risa. This isn't like you, and it's a strain on me to scold you.” Pavel cleared his throat. “You look tired—you ought to be sleeping. Have you had a talk yet with that young teacher in your house?”
Risa shook her head.
“I thought you valued my advice. You know what I said—tell the man what you want from him and give him the choice of deciding if he can grant it. Don't be so indecisive. You want a child and you ought to have one soon.”
She clutched at his hand; his fingers were icy. “How conventional you sound.”
“It isn't that. With some, it wouldn't matter, but I know what you're like. You'd be happier with a bondmate and a child, and that'd make you more useful to Oberg.” His voice was weaker. “I'm happy you came,” he continued, “but say your farewell now. I lived most of my life alone, and I don't need companions to face death. You've done your duty. Don't linger outside with the others—say your farewell, go home, and turn your thoughts to life.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth.
“Do you hear me?” Some of Pavel's old strength had returned to his voice. “Go home.”
“You won't be forgotten, Administrator Pavel.”
“No—I'll be remembered for the wrong reasons, no doubt.”
“Farewell.” She touched his forehead. His dark eyes closed.
* * * *
Risa went to the airship bay. Three workers on the darktime shift were loading cargo into a cart. She rode with them as far as the tunnel, then walked the rest of the way on foot.
The common room was empty. She went to her room, too tired to get a meal in the kitchen. Malik was lying on her bed; a covered tray sat on the floor.
He opened his eyes and sat up. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No.”
“There's food for you on the tray.” He helped her off with her clothes, then handed her bread, goats’ cheese, and a cup of fruit juice. She chewed the food listlessly.
“Did you see Pavel?” Malik said at last.
“Yes. He's awfully weak. It's probably a wonder he's still alive.” She swallowed the juice and put the cup back on the tray. “He refused to have any treatment. At least he didn't see me cry—he would have despised that.” She fell silent until the lump in her throat eased. “I could always count on Pavel. All those people who turn to me for advice never think I might need advice, too. I think Pavel might have taken an interest in me because he was a little sorry about what happened to my mother, but I could never explain that to Chen.”
“Your father calmed down after you left. His anger's past. I told him I'd wait here for you. This should have been a happier day for you, Risa.” His hand rested lightly on her shoulder.
Pavel had told her to think of life. All she could see was death making its inevitable demands. “I'm not just mourning for Pavel,” she said. “I'm thinking of my father, too. I don't imagine most of us will live quite as long as people on Earth. I might lose Chen sooner than I think, and I haven't even given him a grandchild. He probably thinks I never will. He gave so much to this Project and I—” She stared at the spot on the inside other left arm where her contraceptive implant had been embedded when she reached puberty. She had thought then that there would be a bondmate and children for her by now.
Malik's grip tightened. “Is that what you want? A child?”
“Yes.” She had to say it now but was afraid to turn her head and see his reaction. “I love you, Malik. It's your child I want.”
> His hand fell away.
“Please don't say anything until I've finished,” she said. If she did not speak now, she might never find the courage to broach the subject again. “I want your child, but I won't ask anything more of you. We can draw up an agreement so that you have your rights as a father, but you needn't make a pledge.”
“Some in Oberg may find that odd,” he said tonelessly.
“Tina's a Plainswoman and so was my mother. Their people didn't care for bonds, and those who disapprove are free to gossip if they like. You can live here as you have, without ties, and if you leave to live somewhere else, I'll see that the child has time with you.” She wondered if Malik could sense the urgency in her request, if he could see that this was her way of pushing death from her for a while.
“That's what you want?”
“Tina can do the genetic scan and remove our implants. I don't expect she'll find any problems. I'd rather not wait.” I can't wait, she thought; too many years might pass before she loved another man, if she ever found one to love at all. “If you'd prefer not to have ties to the child, we can arrange for that, too. I can always say that I was the one who didn't want a bond so no blame will be attached to you.”
“Why are you telling me this?” His hand lifted her chin, forcing her to gaze into his face; she was surprised to see the pain in his dark eyes. “Is it because you don't want me for a bondmate or because you believe I couldn't be a good one? You think I'll fail you. That's what it is, isn't it? You love me enough to have my child, but you're too sensible to tie yourself to someone so useless. Our first night together, you told me I should find a bondmate, but I suppose you had someone else in mind.”
“I just don't want you to feel obligated or pressured.”
“I understand,” he said softly. “I couldn't possibly change. It never occurs to you that I might need you or want you for a bondmate. I'll make a pledge to you, Risa. I don't know what kind of father I'll be—I never felt the need to become a parent—but I'm willing to try.”
This was what she wanted. Why couldn't she feel happier about it? Even now, she wondered if Malik was speaking out of love or from pride and a desire to prove that she was wrong about him.
“Will you be my bondmate, Risa?” he asked. “Even if it's only for a little while, I'll try to make you happy. You may even find that you want to renew our pledge later. I'll try to be more than I've been—I can—”
She touched his lips, silencing him; she did not want to hear too many promises he might not be able to keep. “I'll make a promise to you. When I'm pregnant, when we know there'll be a child—we can make our pledge then.”
“If you wish it that way.” His hands moved over her as she lay down next to him.
Eleven
Chen stood near the main road, at the edge of the crowd that had gathered outside the mosque in Oberg's main dome. He had not expected to see so many people here; of Oberg's nearly eleven thousand inhabitants, he guessed that nearly three thousand had made their way to this spot, and there might have been more if others had been able to leave their work for this occasion.
He did not see anyone weeping. Pavel Gvishiani had been an old man, and his death was expected. Most of those here were not mourning Pavel; instead, they were marking the passing of an era in their world's history. A few, like him, had probably come to the mosque with a hidden, dimly felt desire to make sure that Pavel was dead.
The mosque was no more than a minaret and four walls surrounding an open courtyard. The entrance to the mosque opened; Pavel's body, wrapped in a white shroud and laid out on a fiat bier, was being carried out. Sigurd Kristens-Vitos, dressed in his formal white robe and headdress, walked next to the bier, leading the procession in the direction of the recycler that would receive Pavel's remains.
The people in front of Chen pressed forward. “God is great,” Sigurd called out. Others took up the chant. “God is great!” It was one of the few Arabic phrases that Chen understood. He had never heard that Pavel was particularly devout or regular in his observances, but it was rumored that he had made his peace with his God at the end. Chen almost wished that he could believe in such a God, one that might make Pavel suffer for his sins.
“God is great!” several people near Chen cried. Several in the crowd, those wearing the black and red sash of Ishtar, were silent. Chen caught a glimpse of Malik, who was standing near Paul and Nikolai. Like Pavel, but for much less reason, Malik had been disgraced and had lost his Link; he wondered what the scholar was thinking about the honor being paid to Pavel now.
It wasn't right, Chen thought. Didn't these people remember that the dead man had risked the future of the Islands to defy Earth? Didn't they know that Pavel had wanted more power for himself as well as success for the Project? Had they forgotten that Iris had paid for Pavel's miscalculations with her life? To see Pavel honored and mourned in the way Iris had been after her death seemed an obscenity.
Sigurd Kristens-Vitos should not have come to Oberg to pay his respects; it was as though the Administrator approved of Pavel's past actions. Did Sigurd think he could finish what Pavel had attempted, that he could free Venus entirely from Earth? That freedom would have to come slowly, in its own time. Much as Chen wanted such freedom himself, it would have to wait for his descendants. He had seen the price some had to pay when others reached for freedom too soon.
Women were following the men away from the mosque; his daughter was among them. He had hoped Risa would be satisfied with standing among those outside; instead, she had left the house early to be sure of a prominent place with the female mourners. She had always done as she liked, regardless of what he felt; she was like her mother in that.
He had always looked for part of Iris in Risa and had been disappointed when he could not find it. Perhaps that had driven her to confide in Pavel and to see him as another father.
Chen walked among the trees until he came to his bondmate's monument. His fingers fluttered as he remembered how he had molded Iris's face. He had wanted to capture the girl he had met in Lincoln, the one who had dreamed, but those who came here did not see that girl; they saw a self-sacrificing woman whose legend made her seem not quite human. Chen knew how human she had been and how flawed; she had never aspired to be a martyr, yet she was one now, and even he often viewed her in that way.
It was easier to believe that she had been thinking of the Project, even that she had been used by Pavel. Chen did not want to think that she had gone to the threatened dome only to save him.
He was in the airship again. His captor, the pilot called Teofila, had freed him from his bonds. Iris and Amir were still inside the dome, trying to convince the plotters to disarm the charges they had set around the dome's perimeter. The strain of the long wait showed on the pilot's face; her eyes were glassy as she stared at the panels in front of her. She clearly knew that he would not try to attack her now, not while his bondmate was inside. He could only wait and hope that Iris would make the conspirators see reason.
He strained to listen to the voices over the ship's comm. Pavel Gvishiani was saying that Earth was prepared to come to an agreement if the people in the dome dismantled their charges. Did that mean that the Administrator was giving in to their demands? Somehow Chen did not believe it.
The comm was now picking up voices from inside the dome's shelter; the conspirators seemed ready to grant Pavel the concession he wanted. They don't want to die, Chen thought. Perhaps they were too worn down by the endless hours of negotiation to care if Administrator Pavel kept his promise. Maybe they preferred risking punishment rather than accepting certain death if they carried out their threat.
He knew then that Pavel would not give them what they wanted; the man was only playing for time. Once the charges were disassembled, and the box inside the shelter that controlled the charges was taken apart, there would be nothing to prevent an attack on the dome. The Guardians probably had a way to override the controls in this bay from outside and to bring an airship in here.
The conspirators would not have time to reassemble their charges; in their present state, they would hardly be able to mount much of a defense against a trained force.
Chen, along with Iris and Amir, might die during such an assault, but that would not matter to Pavel. The hostage specialists and Habbers were already free, thanks to Iris and Amir. The Administrator could sacrifice three small lives to crush the plotters and show Earth that he was still in control here.
Teofila leaned toward the comm. “They're suiting up to leave the shelter,” she said. “They're going to remove the charges and take them apart. We've won, I guess.” Chen wished that the pilot would be quiet so that he could hear what was going on inside. “It didn't take much, did it—just a threat. I knew they'd give in when they saw we meant what we said.” Her face was sallow. He wondered if the woman had really been that ready to die.
More voices murmured over the comm; he realized then that Iris and Amir were still inside the shelter with two of the plotters. A woman was speaking; he recognized the voice of Eleanor Surrey. She had not yet surrendered her control box; the charges could still be armed. Chen was suddenly afraid.
“You two came here to wear us down,” Eleanor was saying. “Pavel Gvishiani will find a way to hang on now, and you two will be showered in glory for helping him.” She paused. “No.”
Chen heard a thud, then a crash as something hit the floor. “Can you do anything?” Amir shouted.
“She's already armed them,” the other conspirator replied. “They'll go off in five minutes.”
“Listen, all of you!” That was Iris's voice; Chen caught his breath. “You've got to get to those charges fast. They're armed now. You've got to take them apart out there.” The people outside the shelter would hear her voice through their suit comms. He wondered if they would listen, or would panic and try to get to the bay. “Teofila. You've got to get your ship out of the bay now. We can't reach you in time. Get away as fast as you can. If we disarm the charges, another ship can come for us. I'm closing this channel now. Farewell, Chen.” She had been thinking of him all along, not just the Project's future; her voice told him that.
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