Venus of Shadows

by Pamela Sargent

  “Even the Administrators haven't tried to stop it,” Kolya answered.

  “Of course not,” Malik said, “They'll wait until it's over before they act—that way, they won't have to deal with those three themselves or worry about how to control this mob.”

  Risa was standing up again. “Silence,” she called out. “This hearing will now begin. The other Councilors have asked me to present the facts in this case.” Risa accepted a pocket screen from Jeannine Loris and studied it for a moment.

  Chimene sat up a little straighter. All of these people would be listening to her mother, and the other settlements would watch on screens. Chimene had attended a couple of hearings before to learn how they were conducted, and she had noticed then that Risa did most of the talking for the Council. But those hearings had been held in the room where the Council usually met and had involved only minor disputes. This was different.

  Chimene wondered what it would be like to have all these people listening to her words. It would be frightening but also thrilling, perhaps a little like those times Malik asked her to recite some of the Arabic poetry he had taught her to a few of his friends. She always enjoyed the attention, and the smiles and words of praise when she finished.

  “Here are the facts,” Risa continued. “Nora Toland's body was found in the common room of her house by members of the household just before first light. The physician Gupta Benares was called to examine the body, and he determined that Nora's death was caused by a severe blow to the head. A neighbor, the engineer Yakov Serba, saw three men leave Nora's house some hours before, after dark.”

  Chimene watched the three men as her mother told how they had been identified and what had been found in their tent. The tall dark one seemed angry, while the Chinese man sat with his head bowed. The blond one was studying Risa intently. What were they thinking? They had to be afraid. She was often a little frightened of Risa herself when her mother knew she had misbehaved, and she had never done anything this bad.

  Chimene tried to pay attention to what her mother was saying. “That concludes our preliminary summary,” Risa said. “If you look at the screen behind me, you will now see the two interviews the Council had with Ciceron Davan, Alexei Osipov, and Chang Ho. The first took place four hours after the men had been identified by Yakov Serba and the members of Nora Toland's household. We conducted the second yesterday.” Risa crossed the platform and sat down with the other Councilors.

  Chimene had already seen the first interview, although she'd had to sneak over to Lena Kerein's house to call it up. Malik had pulled her away from the screen in their common room when she tried to look at it there. “Your mother's smart,” Lena told Chimene after they had watched it. “She fooled them into admitting it.” Chimene, after thinking of the times Risa had tricked her into saying she had done something she shouldn't, had felt a bit sorry for the men before reminding herself that they had killed a woman. One of them had anyway; the others had apparently only tried to help their friend hide it. Did that mean they wouldn't be punished as much?

  She looked around at all the people sitting in the clearing. The ones farthest from the platform were peering at pocket screens; others were whispering to the people near them. A few had climbed up into the trees at the edge of the open area for a better view. Most of them had probably seen the interviews before, since they were in the public record. She turned back to the large screen as the second interview began. The Chinese man was telling the same story he had in the first; when he finished, the blond man said only that the story was true and that he had nothing to add except that he was sorry. The dark-haired man refused to say anything at all, even though he had been the one to kill the woman.

  The screen went blank. “I'll call the first witness,” Risa said. “Gupta Benares.” Chimene sighed as the physician climbed up to the platform and accepted a microphone from Istu Marnes. This was the part of the hearing when witnesses would testify in detail about what they knew, and it was likely to go on for a while. She began to wish that she had brought her own pocket screen so that she could have played a game in the meantime.

  Gupta Benares droned on as the screen showed images of the scan he had conducted. Patrick was fidgeting; Chimene poked him in the arm. “The tall man didn't say anything,” she whispered.

  “It doesn't matter,” Patrick whispered back. “We already know what happened. I don't know why we have to listen to all this stuff.”

  “It's their hearing.” Patrick often didn't seem to know the simplest things. “They have to—”

  “Hush,” her father muttered. She noticed then that the blond Russian man was staring directly at Malik; the cold look in his eyes made her shiver.

  The physician left the platform; Yakov Serba was called. Chimene tried to concentrate. The last time she and her friends had gone to a hearing, Yoshi had questioned them in school about the Council's decision and whether or not any of them would have decided differently. Yoshi might ask about this hearing, and Chimene, who was usually quick to respond, did not want to look as though she had not paid attention.

  Three women and two men followed Yakov to the platform, but their voices were faint and subdued, difficult to hear even with microphones attached to their collars. They were members of the dead woman's household. Chimene nearly choked at the idea of finding a body in her own common room. She glanced at Malik. Maybe he and Risa would let her sleep with them tonight, even though she hadn't for a long time.

  Her mother was walking across the platform. “You've all heard the testimony,” Risa said. She turned toward the three men. “Do you have anything to say in your own defense?”

  The tall man got up awkwardly, then wobbled a little on his feet as his companions stood. “You've made up your minds,” he said. “I've got nothing to say to you.”

  “You can't blame me,” the Chinese man shouted. “I didn't kill her.”

  “You could have gone for help,” Risa replied; she lifted an arm, then let it fall. “Something might have been done for her if you had, but all you thought about was hiding what you did.” Chimene was startled by her mother's enraged tone; a Council member was supposed to be calm during hearings.

  “Ciceron was a friend,” the blond man said. “I told myself I couldn't betray a friend. Maybe that was a mistake, but we didn't know what to do, and he didn't mean to kill her. She got him angry, pretending she was our friend, and saying she was going to complain we'd been stealing. If she hadn't said that—”

  “You're not helping yourself,” Risa said. “Nora Toland admitted you to her home, offered to forgive you if you gave back what you took, and was trying to befriend you.”

  “I'm sorry for what happened,” Alexei Osipov said quietly. “I was trying to protect my friend. He'd never do anything like this again—none of us would.”

  Risa stepped toward the front of the platform. “The records of the accused have been studied,” she said. “We found no medical or psychological disorder that might have contributed to their deed, a brutal act one of them committed so that he would not be revealed publicly as a thief, and which his companions sought to conceal. If they had called a physician immediately, they might have been judged as others are who injure another person in rage. If they had confessed to the deed willingly, we might have believed repentance was possible.”

  “We've heard all we have to,” a man behind Chimene shouted. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Silence!” Risa called out. “Some facts about people aren't always part of their records, and they have the right to have others speak in their defense. Perhaps someone here, or in one of our sister settlements, can tell us of their more worthy deeds or of circumstances that would show them to be deserving of more mercy. If anyone wishes to speak, step forward now or give your message over the screen.”

  Chimene craned her neck. The crowd was murmuring, but she did not see anyone stand up. Maybe their friends were afraid to speak. Perhaps they had no friends.

  “Those three
are trouble,” a bald man near the platform called out. “I had to work with that one in the greenhouses.” He pointed at Alexei. “He'd start a fight over nothing at all!”

  “Sit down,” Risa commanded. “Previous complaints don't concern us now, and any judgments about them have already been made. We're asking for those who will speak in their defense.”

  Malik suddenly rose. Risa tensed as he walked to the platform and climbed the steps. “What's he doing?” Patrick whispered. Risa seemed stunned; she moved back a little as Alain gave Malik a microphone. Chimene wanted to shrink away; what would her friends think of her father now?

  Malik was holding his screen in his hands. “I promised to read this statement from one who can't be here to speak. Her name is Yekaterina Osipova, and she's the sister of Alexei Osipov. She came here from one of Earth's camps, and she's lived in al-Khwarizmi for the past three years. She volunteered to work on the Bats, a task which, as a new arrival, she could easily have avoided. You won't find any black marks on her record.”

  Malik looked down at his screen. “I'll read her words now. She would have offered them herself, but her grief has made that impossible.” He cleared his throat. “My brother Alexei has made mistakes, but please see him for what he is. He knew that Earth could offer him little, and so he chose to go to a camp. I went with him—I was happy for him then because I believed there would be something better for him here. I didn't like some of the companions he found in that camp, and maybe they led him astray, but life there is hard, and waiting can seem endless. There's little reward for goodness in a camp, especially among Guardians who look for weakness and prey upon the people there. Alexei had to survive and stay strong enough to reach Venus, and sometimes that meant doing things he wouldn't have done at other times. Whatever our disagreements, he always tried to protect me, and one Guardian nearly expelled him from the camp for that. I pleaded with the Guardian for my brother, and I say that without shame. I wanted Alexei to have his chance.”

  Kolya whispered something in Russian; it sounded like a curse. Chimene thought of how her father and Kolya never spoke of their time in the camp, and how grim they both looked the few times she had tried to ask them about it.

  “Alexei can make a life here,” Malik continued, “if he's allowed to make amends for his mistake, and maybe his friends can, too. Give him a chance to overcome what the camp and the Guardians and the waiting did to him. He'll suffer the shame of his deed all his life, even if he's too proud to say that. Give him a chance to make up for what he did. Let him become what I know he can be.”

  “Fine words,” a man near Chimene murmured. “Wonder what the Guide and Nora's household think of them. If the Council's too gentle with them now, nobody's safe. We have to scare anyone else who'd try the same thing.”

  “I wonder how they'll do it,” a woman replied. “We have no weapons—it could be messy.”

  “Is that the end of the statement?” Risa asked. Chimene had heard that scornful tone in her mother's voice before, usually just before her parents retired to their room to argue. She hated it when their door closed and she knew they were fighting; it made her want to run into the room and beg them to stop.

  “This concludes Yekaterina's statement.” Malik lowered his screen. “But I have a statement of my own to make. For those of you watching who don't know who I am, my name is Malik Haddad. I teach the children in Oberg's west dome. I knew Alexei Osipov in the camp outside Tashkent when I was waiting for passage. We wouldn't call ourselves friends by any means, but he's a young man who spent years in a place that might have broken some of you. I was fortunate. I waited for only a couple of months, and even that was enough to make me despair at times.”

  “You were a Linker once,” someone shouted from the crowd. “Anything would have seemed hard to you.”

  “I came here after three years in a camp,” a woman called out. “I was grateful for the chance to start again. I didn't go around stealing or trying to hide a murder.”

  “Your virtue is praiseworthy,” Malik said, “but not everyone can be so strong. This is a place where you claim people can start afresh. These men have committed a terrible crime, but don't commit one against them that will poison what you have. You might consider Earth's history—it's a subject I know something about. Acts of violence and revenge only lead to other such acts. I'm not asking that these men be set free, only that any judgment allow them the chance to repent and change.”

  “Nora Toland didn't get a chance!” a voice shouted.

  “You've made your plea,” Risa said, “but you've offered few facts in their defense.”

  “I'm not just pleading for them,” Malik said more softly. “I'm pleading for you and this settlement not to—”

  “We have very few choices,” Risa interrupted. “If we expel them, Earth might take them back, but they'd also exact a price. Do you want to see Guardians in these domes?”

  “No!” several people answered.

  “We could turn them over to the Administrators, which would be admitting that we're incapable of making our own decisions. Shall we disband the Councils we ourselves elect and turn over all authority to others?”

  “No!”

  “Shall we allow them to stay among us and affront all who loved Nora Toland with their presence? Will our children be forced to look at every new arrival with suspicion and fear?”

  “No!”

  “I told you,” Patrick whispered to Chimene. “They're going to die.”

  “Let me speak!” Chimene looked up at the sound of that familiar voice; Kolya was getting to his feet. “My friend Malik means well, but he insults every one of us who came here from the camps. Those men aren't like us, and I won't have it said that any of us might have done what they did in rage and fear. They deserve—” More shouting from the crowd drowned out the rest of his words.

  Risa lifted her arms. “Be silent!” She waited, then moved toward Malik. “Have you finished?”

  “This isn't a hearing,” Malik said. “It's a spectacle for a mob.” He pulled off his microphone, threw it at Risa, and descended the steps to the sound of jeers.

  Chimene felt torn. Malik was always kind; his students said that he would often give them a second chance before issuing reprimands about their work. She could go to him whenever Risa was being unfair. He had probably only agreed to read that woman's statement out of kindness, because he felt sorry for her. Chimene could understand that, but her friends were sure to wonder why he had defended these three men.

  Anyway, the men wouldn't die, whatever Patrick said. Her mother couldn't do anything like that; she'd make another judgment, and the Council would go along with it People always talked about how clever Risa was, how she could settle disputes when no one else could figure out what to do.

  Malik sat down, shaking. Chimene was afraid to touch him. Risa would settle this, and then she and Malik would make up with each other, as they always did, at least for a while. Maybe someday, their making up would last and they wouldn't fight at all anymore.

  “Does anyone else wish to speak?” Risa was staring at the part of the crowd to her left. Chimene looked in that direction; her mother was gazing almost directly at Kichi Timsen, Ishtar's Guide, and the people sitting with her.

  A dark-skinned man was climbing the steps to the platform. He wore a gray coverall; as he came to Risa, she started a little, then picked up the microphone Malik had dropped. “This isn't a matter that concerns your people,” she said.

  The man pinned the microphone to his collar. “Even so, I request an opportunity to speak. What happens among you, especially a matter this grave, concerns us.” He turned toward the crowd; Chimene now saw the pin of silver circles on his shirt. Habbers never attended hearings; she had never heard of one making any kind of statement or recording any complaint that might lead to a hearing.

  “My name is Lluthu,” the Habber said. “I have worked with the people of Oberg for nearly five years. I have discussed this incident with my own pe
ople. I do not wish to make a statement, only to offer a suggestion.”

  Chimene leaned forward. She had seen Habbers only at a distance and had kept away from the small residence in the west dome where a few of them lived. Risa always said that there was no point in associating with Habbers unless one had to work with them. In this case, Chimene was content to obey her mother; she had heard about how Risa's brother had betrayed the Project by joining them. Chimene did not want anyone to think that she was like her uncle.

  “You must decide the fate of these men,” Lluthu continued. “I am free to tell you that, if you wish, you may give them to us and we will convey them to our nearest Habitat. You would no longer have them in your midst, and we would have a chance to make observations that may prove interesting.”

  The accused men gaped at the Habber; the Chinese man was shaking his head. They seemed more frightened of this Habber than of any sentence the Council might give.

  “And how will they be punished there?” Risa asked.

  “Punishment? I'm not speaking of punishment, exactly, but of exile, a time for reflection, a way for them to know what they've done, face it, know what they are and then to transcend what they are. They would come to learn exactly what they are, and if they are unable to deal with that part of their nature, that may be punishment enough.”

  “Some punishment!” a man cried out. “Giving them a Habber's long life and letting them get away. What kind of sentence would that be?”

  “Nora was a sister in Ishtar!” A woman near the Guide was speaking now. “The Habbers affront the Spirit by imagining that they can dwell apart from planets and the living spirits with whom planet-dwellers will converge. Will you give these men to such people? Will you deny Nora any justice at all?”

  “That's your suggestion?” Risa said. The Habber nodded. “Surely you see the impossibility of such a judgment. Some might say that living among Habbers is a punishment in itself, but you would probably also exact a price for accepting these men. Maybe you think your people should participate in the deliberations of our Councils. We'll make our decision without your advice.”