Venus of Shadows

by Pamela Sargent

  “Poor Risa,” Tina murmured to Grazie. “This crowd won't accept any sentence but one. I hope the Council can pronounce it—if they don't, people will try to take those men anyway, and then where will we be?”

  “This hearing showed what they are,” Kolya muttered. “They don't deserve much mercy.”

  “The Council,” Risa announced, “will begin its deliberations now.”

  The Council members retreated to the back of the platform. Chimene felt her father's hand on her shoulder; his fingers were gripping her so tightly that it hurt. “Malik,” she whispered.

  “Be quiet, Chimene.” His voice frightened her. “Your mother has a very important decision to make—pay attention.”

  The Councilors spoke for only a few moments before they stood up. Chimene was surprised; they usually took longer to make their decisions at the hearings she had seen.

  Risa stepped to the front of the platform. “The others have asked me to pronounce the sentence, with which we are all in agreement. Allow me to say a few words first. We live here without police and without all those functionaries of Earth—the Counselors who think only of controlling under the guise of helping, the Guardians allowed to keep order in whatever way they see fit. Consider how precious that freedom is and how fragile. What we have rests on trust, but it must also rest on our willingness to mete out the most severe penalties to those who abuse that trust. If we show that willingness now, our trust is not likely to be abused in the future.”

  The Habber who had spoken was standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up at Risa with a curious smile. Chimene almost thought he was amused, but he couldn't be; this hearing was too serious for that.

  “These men believed they could abuse our trust,” Risa continued. “They saw that we do not use officially sanctioned violence, that we have no police, that we attempt to settle our problems through private negotiations or hearings in which all sides are heard, and that we try to be fair to all concerned. They saw we had a freedom here, and they took that as license to do whatever they wished. They saw us as weak people they could prey upon, who had no power against them. If we allow such people among us, we'll destroy what we have. If we act now, we'll preserve it.”

  The crowd was silent.

  “All of these men are guilty of Nora Toland's death and of concealing evidence of their deed. I pronounce their judgment now.”

  Chimene held her breath; Patrick stopped fidgeting. Risa turned to face the accused; Chimene noticed that her mother's hands were trembling a little.

  “Ciceron Davan, Alexei Osipov, and Chang Ho, you will be taken to the airship bay.” Risa's voice sounded uncertain. “There, you will be left by the airship cradles while the roof above you is opened. You will have no memorial on our pillars. Venus will have your lives in place of the one you took.”

  “No!” Chang Ho shouted. “You don't have the right—we don't deserve—”

  Part of the crowd was already moving forward. Risa hurried down the steps and stopped in front of Chimene, then held out her hand. “Come with me.”

  Malik stood up as Risa pulled Chimene to her feet. “Where are you taking her?” he asked.

  “The judgment must be carried out. I want my daughter with me.”

  Malik grabbed at Chimene; Risa began to drag her away. “No!” Malik shouted. Chimene looked back; her father was caught in a knot of people, unable to reach her. The three condemned men were already being led down the steps; the Chinese man was sobbing.

  * * * *

  Risa held Chimene's hand tightly as they followed the stream of people toward the bay. Kolya and Emilia were at Risa's side; Chimene caught a glimpse of Patrick and Paul.

  The men were going to die. Chimene recalled what she had learned about the bay. The thick wall that separated the cradles from the rest of the bay would have to be lowered before the roof above the cradles was opened. The air pressure would increase to match the atmospheric pressure outside, so the men would already be dead from that by the time the roof was being opened. She tried to imagine what that would feel like and felt an invisible weight against her own chest; the thought terrified her.

  “I wonder if the Administrators will allow this,” someone near her said.

  “They can't stop it now—it's gone too far.”

  Chimene thought of the Administrator named Sigurd, the one who sometimes spoke to Risa. Maybe he would try to stop it somehow. Suddenly, she was sure he would; maybe Risa was waiting for that. Chimene thought of the times when her friend Lena tried to dare her into doing something foolish, and how relieved she always was when another friend intervened and told Lena how silly she was. Maybe Risa only wanted to scare the men so that they would never do anything like this again, in the way that she sometimes threatened Chimene with dire punishments that were not carried out.

  The bay door was opening wider; the Council members walked through the entrance, trailed by part of the crowd. They passed the gantries and machines that lined the bay on both sides. Chang Ho stumbled as he walked, sagging against one of the men who held him.

  Chimene soon saw the cradles. The crowd came to a halt. Alain moved toward the three men, who were being held tightly by others. The tall man and the Russian seemed pale and oddly calm; the Chinese man was still weeping.

  “Do you have any last words?” Alain asked.

  “Only this,” the tall man said. “I didn't plan what I did. Call it what you like, but it wasn't murder. This is murder—what you're doing to us.”

  Was it? Chimene asked herself. She was suddenly confused. Were her mother and the Council being just as bad as the men? But Risa was on the Council; that meant this wasn't the same, didn't it? Some people could decide such things, and others could not.

  The two other men said nothing. “Do you want any rites,” Alain asked, “or time to say prayers?”

  “Prayers won't help us,” the blond Russian said.

  “You'll be given an injection,” Alain said. “It will make things easier for you.” Another man approached with a silver wand and pressed it against the tall man's arm.

  Risa's hand was icy. Chimene closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight. When she opened them once more, the men were lying next to the nearest cradle. The Russian's green eyes were staring directly at her; she looked away.

  The wall was being lowered from the ceiling now. It was all happening too fast; there wouldn't be time to stop it. Risa pulled Chimene toward the wall to their right, where a technician was standing near a console.

  “Have you overridden the safety controls?” Risa asked. The technician nodded.

  Chimene pulled her arm loose. If I'm bad, she thought, they'll bring me here, too, they'll put me in there. She wanted to run to her father and hear him tell her that everything would be all right, that he would always protect her.

  She spun around, clawed at a pair of trousered legs, and fell. Her stomach lurched; she was afraid she might be sick. She lay on the floor, looking up at Paul as he held her head.

  Voices were speaking; her ears throbbed, making it hard to hear their words.

  “—dead by now.”

  “We'll open the roof anyway.” That was Risa's voice. “Show me which panel to push.”

  “—deserved it—”

  “—got off easy, if you ask me.”

  “—maybe we shouldn't have—”

  “—the Council may pay for this.”

  “—nobody tried to stop them—”

  The wall was rising. Kolya picked Chimene up; she buried her face against his chest, refusing to look. “I'll take her home,” Kolya said.

  “Very well.” Risa's voice sounded muffled. “I have to go to the recycler, see this through.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  * * * *

  Kolya carried her all the way home. When Patrick complained about not getting to follow the crowd back to the recycler, Grazie told him to hush. The rest of the household did not say anything, not even wh
en they were in the tunnel and other people called out greetings. The greetings seemed strangely cheerful; one man commented that the settlers would sleep more easily that night, knowing they were safe.

  Tina insisted on scanning her when they were home, to make certain the fall and loss of consciousness hadn't injured her. “Your mother had a difficult decision to make,” Tina said as she lifted Chimene off her table, “she and the rest of the Council. Maybe she shouldn't have taken you there, but—” She carried Chimene into the common room. “The Council did what they thought was right. You'll understand someday. It might seem harsh, but they had to think of the settlement and how to protect it from people like that.”

  The rest of the household was sitting around the table; Patrick lay on a cushion, asleep. Chimene noticed that Malik was not with the others. “Can you sleep,” Tina asked, “or do you want to wait up for Risa?”

  Chimene shook her head violently. Tina moved toward Chimene's room; the door opened.

  Malik was sitting on her bed. Tina lowered her to his side, “I'll stay with her,” he said.

  “She fainted in the bay. The excitement must have been a little too much for her—maybe she should stay home from school tomorrow.”

  “My bondmate might object to that. After all, it's likely to be the primary topic of discussion, and Risa will want her daughter to participate. We mustn't have anyone think that Chimene lacks her mother's fortitude.”

  “I understand your feelings,” Tina said, “but Risa will need you even more now. It's done, and there's no point in dwelling on it.”

  “How practical of you.”

  “And it couldn't have helped her to have her bondmate reading a statement from a woman who could have offered it herself, or speaking up for those men.”

  “She'll get over that.” Malik's voice was nearly a whisper. “People will undoubtedly praise her for not listening to a weak-willed bondmate.”

  Tina was silent for a bit, then said, “I'd better put Patrick to bed.”

  As she left the room, Malik got up, helped Chimene off with her clothes, then dressed her in her white shift. Her arms and legs felt as though they didn't belong to her; she leaned against Malik as he tucked her into bed.

  He sat down and began to stroke her hair. “I didn't think they'd die,” she said. “I thought they'd only scare them.”

  Her father did not reply. She curled up next to him, resting her head against his thigh. Everything would be all right now; Malik was with her.

  She dozed, dimly aware of her father's presence. She was sitting with the crowd again, waiting for her mother to speak.

  “They didn't suffer,” Risa said. Chimene, waking, realized that her mother was in the room. She kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep. “They were probably unconscious before they could even feel an increase in pressure.” Risa's voice was low. “I doubt they felt anything at all.”

  “And of course that makes it all right,” Malik replied.

  “Are you going to sit here all night?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You won't be very alert for your students tomorrow.”

  “It doesn't matter,” he said softly. “They'll be too busy talking about this spectacle to pay much attention to their lessons. Maybe I'll send them home, give them a free day so they have a chance to analyze it in detail with their households. It's a fine lesson for them. Gather a mob, hold a hearing that's no more than a charade, and you can commit a crime and call it justice.”

  “What else could we have done?” Chimene heard the soft sound of footsteps as her mother paced the room. “I didn't want to make this decision. You don't know how hard it was for me. We had no choice. Others would have settled this themselves if we hadn't, and that would have led to worse things.”

  Malik was silent.

  “You saw all those people,” Risa said, “and how they felt. How long do you think those men would have stayed alive if we'd spared them? We could have had more violence on our hands and no way to control it, and another excuse for the Project Council to think we can't govern ourselves.” She paused for breath. “They died for our settlements—that's how I view it. They died so that others won't repeat their deeds and so that we can keep what we have now.”

  “You think you're strong,” Malik muttered. “You think your decision was so hard, but it was easy. The hard thing would have been to try to convince that mob to live up to the ideals you claim to have.”

  “You would say that, wouldn't you? You're more used to fine words and fine feelings than doing anything practical. You leave everything that's hard to me, and then feel disappointed because I can't be as sensitive as you.”

  “What you did wasn't hard, Risa. All that talk about how you're just another Cytherian serving Oberg—you don't want to lose the praise of the crowd, that's all. Maybe you were thinking of the next election or the power you might lose if you surrendered those men to someone else. You can't admit that now you're ruled by the mob, that you couldn't bear to lose what you have.”

  Chimene wanted to plead with them to stop. Their soft, bitter voices were more frightening than the shouts she had sometimes heard from behind their door.

  “You think I'm weak,” Malik said. “Speaking to that mob was the hardest thing I ever did, but I knew I couldn't live with myself if I didn't. I thought you, at least, might listen.”

  “What sentimentality,” she said. “A plea from a sister and fine words from my bondmate. We had to be objective.”

  “And I can't forgive what you did to Chimene. You had no business taking her to that bay just to show others that you weren't afraid to have your own daughter see—”

  “I won't hide what I do from her.” Risa's voice sounded closer. “But you—you didn't make your little speech because you wanted mercy. You just wanted me to look cruel in front of Chimene, that's all. You couldn't try to give me any support. You've always wanted her to hate me and love you.”

  “That isn't true.”

  Chimene had dreaded this. There were too many times when she had overheard one of their disputes and heard her own name mentioned. Was it her fault that they weren't getting along? Was Risa right when she said that Malik spoiled her? Was Malik right when he claimed that Risa simply didn't understand her?

  Please, Chimene said to herself silently, please don't fight over me.

  “You want to look so noble in her eyes,” Risa said. “You'd like her to think you're better than the rest of us, with all your learning and your sensitive feelings. You'd like to turn her against me.”

  “I was thinking of you,” Malik said softly, “of what this decision would do to you.”

  “If it weren't for people like me, there wouldn't be much of a world for people like you.”

  “Why, a Mukhtar might have uttered those words—or a Guardian Commander, or any one of a number of people in the past who could find reasons for allowing the deaths of thousands.”

  “Stop it!” Chimene cried, unable to listen anymore. “Stop it!” She sat up. Risa stepped back from the bed, her eyes wide; Malik threw his arm around Chimene's shoulder.

  She began to cry. Risa was always telling her that if she cried too much, she'd use up all her tears and wouldn't have them when she needed them, but she couldn't stop crying.

  At last her cries faded to a whimper. Risa stretched out her arm; Chimene shrank back.

  “Are you coming to bed?” Risa's voice was lower now. Malik was silent. “You'll see—nothing like this will ever happen again. You see that, don't you? You can't really think—” She bit her lip. “Are you coming to bed?”

  “I'll stay here. Chimene might need me.”

  “I need you, too.”

  “No, you don't. You never did. I needed you once, and it was your misfortune that you thought you loved me—otherwise, you might have seen that you didn't need me. When you do see that, you'll get along well enough.”

  Risa spun around and ran from the room. “Malik?” Chimene said. “Malik?”

  “
Go to sleep.”

  “Was it wrong, what Risa did? Does it make her like those men who—” She swallowed.

  “No, Chimene. Those men knew they'd done something wrong. Your mother believed that she was doing the right thing. She didn't intend to do a bad thing, but sometimes good intentions aren't enough. She isn't able to see that she might have been wrong, and maybe she never will.” He drew the coverlet over her. “Go to sleep.”

  Sixteen

  The technicians, pilots, and workers inside Oberg's bay fell silent as Sigurd passed them; they did not look especially pleased to see him there. He had said only that he would be visiting each of the settlements to consult with their Councils, but the settlers had to know the matter was serious since he was here in person.

  He paused near the wide door to adjust his headdress; this meeting seemed to call for his formal headgear and white robe. He glanced back at the airship that had carried him here; the ship's cargo was rolling down ramps alongside the cradle. Three men had died in this bay; he clenched his teeth.

  He stepped into Oberg's main dome. Risa Liangharad was waiting near the road that circled the dome; next to her, a lanky brown-haired man who looked familiar was speaking to a pilot. Sigurd consulted his Link briefly and came up with a name: Andrew Dinel.

  The pilot bowed as Sigurd approached the group, then moved toward the bay. “Greetings, Administrator Sigurd,” Andrew Dinel said, smiling. “What a delightful surprise, being able to greet you in person.”

  Sigurd doubted that the man's presence was a coincidence. “Salaam.”

  “I hope my whiskey still meets with your approval.”

  “Some of my guests have praised it. I don't drink myself.”

  “If it's at all possible,” Andrew said, “my household would be pleased to offer you supper this evening.”

  “I'm afraid it isn't. I must leave for Tsou Yen before dark.”

  “Well.” Andrew touched his forehead. “Have a safe journey then.” He bowed, then walked toward the bay.