Venus of Dreams

by Pamela Sargent

  He crept through the darkened room to the door. He could hear Iris’s even breathing; she was still asleep. The door opened and he entered the narrow hallway of the passengers’ quarters. A man and a woman in gray workers’ garb were leaving one of the other rooms; Benzi followed them to the end of the corridor and into a large room where tables and chairs stood against one wall. Two men were exercising in the center of the room; Benzi imitated their movements until one of them shooed him away.

  Iris found him there and led him to one of the tables. Benzi pushed at a chair, discovered that it was fixed to the floor, then climbed into it, resting his hands and chin on the tabletop while Iris fetched some fruit and bread from the dispenser.

  “You’ve been very good,” Iris said as she sat down. “You really haven’t been any trouble at all.” She seemed happier now; she had taken off the shirt she had traveled in and now wore a sleeveless green blouse. “Well, I guess this will be home for a while, for a few days, anyway.”

  By the time they had finished their meal, three other people had joined them and introduced themselves; Benzi noticed that they, like his mother, were wearing small pins on their collars. Soon, the adults were absorbed in talk about the Institute and the Project. Iris giggled with the other woman over a story Benzi didn’t understand; her cheeks grew pink and her smile widened as one of the two men leaned toward her.

  Benzi stirred restlessly, then climbed down from his chair. Iris glanced at him. “Where are you going?”

  “Back to the room.”

  “Don’t go wandering off. We have to stay here, on the passengers’ deck.”

  “Cute little fellow,” the other woman said.

  Benzi wandered back along the corridor, slapping the locks of each door until the one to his room opened. Iris had pushed her bed back into the wall. Benzi stepped back, then went on down the hall, only to find his progress barred by another door.

  “No passengers beyond this point,” the door said. Benzi pressed his hand against the pale surface, then stretched up to touch the lock as the door spoke phrases in other languages.

  The door opened. A tall blond woman stared down at him. “Well, young man,” she said, “what are you doing at this lift?”

  Benzi shrugged. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I’m a pilot. Just came down to say hello to the passengers. Now, what can I do for you?” The pilot had kind, hazel eyes; if her hair had been longer, she would have looked a lot like Constance.

  “There’s no place to see,” Benzi said. “Isn’t there a screen?”

  The pilot leaned against the door frame. “Have you been in the dining and recreation room?” He nodded. “Well, there’s another room right next to it with a screen and couches. You just go through the doorway across from the tables. You can see all you want to there. I’ll show you.”

  “Are there other pilots?” he asked.

  “Of course, but we’re up near the nose.”

  “Can I go there?”

  The woman tapped one finger against her temple, then suddenly ushered him inside. The door closed as the lift began to whisk them silently up through the ship. “I guess it’s all right,” the woman said. “Might as well give you the tour. I can say hello to the passengers later. What’s your name, son?”

  “Benzi Liangharad.”

  “Mine’s Rosa. Glad to know you, Benzi. You headed for Anwara, or the Islands?”

  “The Islands.”

  “Good for you. Of course, you’ll get to see a bit of Anwara anyway — that’s where we dock.”

  The door opened, revealing a large room where two people were sitting in front of a row of panels and small screens. But it was the large screen above the panels, a screen covering nearly half the wall, that made Benzi gasp. There, stars shone steadily without flickering, pinpricks in an ebony expanse.

  “We have a visitor,” Rosa announced. One of the men turned around and grinned when he saw Benzi; he was dark-skinned with woolly hair clipped close to his skull. Rosa began to walk toward him, then gestured at the boy. “Come on, Benzi.”

  Benzi hesitated.

  “Rosa’s the chief pilot,” the grinning man said. “Better do what she says.”

  Benzi followed the woman over to the panels, where she helped him into one of the seats. “Did you greet the moles yet?” the other man asked as Rosa sat down. She shook her head. “I’ll go see them, then.” He took off the band he had been wearing on his head, rubbed his bald pate, and stood up. “After that, I’ll get some rest.”

  “Better wake Allie up when you get back,” Rosa said. “I’ll need some rest myself pretty soon.” She turned around slightly. “And tell them Benzi Liangharad’s up here in case his people are looking for him.”

  “My mother,” Benzi said. “Her name’s Iris.” The man nodded as he disappeared into the lift.

  Rosa leaned back. “Well, Benzi. So your mother’s taking you to Venus. You’re lucky to get a chance to go. The Islands can only take so many people.”

  “My mother went to a school,” Benzi responded. “She went to the Cyther —” He couldn’t get the word out properly.

  “The Cytherian Institute,” Rosa added helpfully. “Is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You should be proud of your mother. The Institute’s a fine school.”

  “My father’s on the Islands now.”

  “Did he go to the Institute too?”

  Benzi thought a moment, then shook his head. “Did you?” he asked.

  Rosa laughed. “Oh, no. I’m a pilot. They don’t train pilots there.”

  “Where’s your home?”

  “Oh, I usually stay on the Wheel when I’m not traveling, but I think of this ship as my home, in a way. You see, pilots have to travel from one place to another. I’ve taken theFaisal all over the place.”

  Benzi bounced a little in his seat. “Where?”

  “Oh, I’ve docked at L-5. We’ve orbited the moon. I got a chance to go down there and see what the astronomers were doing.”

  “Did you ever see a Hab?”

  “Certainly not,” the dark-skinned man replied, curling his lip. Benzi looked down, recalling that people did not like to talk about the Habitats, then glanced at Rosa again.

  “They have pilots on the Islands, don’t they?” Benzi asked.

  “Well, of course they do,” Rosa replied. “You need to use airships to get from one Island to another, and shuttles to get from there to the Bats or to Anwara. The pilots are trained there, and they learn how to run both types of craft.” She paused. “Is that what you want, son, to be a pilot?”

  “I don’t know.” It might be fun to be a pilot, more fun than being a settler. “Maybe.”

  Rosa smiled. “Then I’d better show you a few things. TheFaisal ’s a torchship. Know what that means?”

  Benzi shook his head.

  “Well, we’re powered by what’s called laser-induced pulse fusion. The lasers hit these tiny pellets of deuterium, you see, and mass is expelled from the engine. That’s what propels us forward. We accelerate continuously, and that’s why we have the sensation of gravity. We keep accelerating until we’re halfway to Anwara, and then we begin to decelerate so that, by the time we’re ready to dock, we’re moving very slowly. Understand?”

  “I think so,” Benzi said, not sure that he did.

  “The ship pilots itself during most of our journey, but a couple of us are always here to keep an eye on things. When we wear our bands, we’re linked to the ship directly.” The pilot held up her own circlet. “Docking’s probably the trickiest maneuver we have, but if anything goes wrong during the journey and the ship can’t repair itself, the engineers take care of it. You’ll probably see some of them during the next few days — they’re on the level above yours, and they usually mingle with the few passengers we carry. Too bad you didn’t get a chance to travel on a cruiser, a real passenger ship. We’re pretty simple here.”

  Benzi looked up at the starry screen. “I li
kethis ship,” he said.

  “You’ve made a conquest, Rosa,” the other pilot said. “Maybe we should take him on as a trainee.”

  “Well, maybe we should.” Rosa ruffled Benzi’s hair as he smiled up at her friendly face.

  During the rest of the week-and-a-half-long journey, Benzi spent most of his waking hours with the pilot. Rosa showed him how the ship calculated its trajectory, told him about its protective shielding, and about what the symbols on each of the small screens meant.

  Sometimes, he shared a meal with the pilots in front of their screen. Boka, the dark-skinned man, was soon referring to Benzi as his copilot, and the others seemed happy to let him sit with them in the control center. They, unlike Iris, did not treat him as if his small presence were somehow worrisome and troubling.

  Benzi preferred the company of the pilots to that of the other passengers. There was no other child on the ship except for one older boy who ignored him, and the passengers seemed bored by the trip. They sat at their tables gossiping or playing games, or had drinks in front of their screen while ignoring its panoramic view of the heavens. Iris seemed as bored as the rest, and content to let Benzi wander off in the company of a pilot.

  Whenever Benzi lay on his bed trying to sleep, he wondered if his mother might have a change of heart when they reached Anwara. Iris had left him once before; maybe she would let him stay on the ship with Rosa. Somehow, he had the feeling that she would not really miss him, in spite of her talk about the Project and all the fun he would have with his father on the Islands. Rosa called him her apprentice; Boka had said that his own daughter might soon be traveling with the pilots.

  Benzi never wanted his journey to end. He would be free on theFaisal, able to travel with his new friends through the timelessness of space instead of adjusting to a new environment and its demands.

  By the time the torchship was nearing Anwara, Benzi had almost convinced himself that Rosa would ask him to stay aboard, and that Iris would agree.

  Rosa had allowed Benzi to sit with the pilots during the docking on Anwara, and he had promised to be good and not to distract them. Anwara, it seemed, was even larger than the Wheel; three circular tubes turned slowly around its hub, and several new modules had been added to its rim. Benzi watched as the ship slowly glided between the struts of an empty hub dock.

  They were under, or above, the hub; it was difficult for Benzi to tell which. By the time the ship was tethered, Rosa had glided out of her seat. Benzi released his harness and floated weightlessly out of his chair; Rosa caught him with one hand and swam toward the door, then set her boots against the floor. The adhesive strips on her soles made a soft, tearing sound as she walked. Benzi giggled as he floated into the lift.

  “Like it, don’t you?” Rosa said. He nodded. The torchship’s engines had shut down when they were near the space station, and he had welcomed the feeling of weightlessness. “Time to go find your mother.”

  Benzi was dismayed for only a moment. Of course they had to find Iris. Would Rosa ask her, or would he have to do that himself? He had tried to prepare Iris by telling her of all the fun he was having with the pilots and how they had said he was their little apprentice, but she hadn’t appeared to be paying much attention to his words. She’d have to let him stay with Rosa. When she saw how happy that would make him, surely she would agree. Iris had left him before, had said that it had been best for him. She’d have to see that staying with Rosa would be best for him now. Iris could always travel up to Anwara to see him whenever his ship docked there, couldn’t she?

  They found Iris and the other passengers in one of the ship’s bays, where they were waiting to board a small craft that would carry them to Anwara’s inner circle. Iris drifted toward them and handed Benzi his bag.

  “I really enjoyed seeing your son on this trip,” Rosa said. “He’s quite a boy.” Benzi waited; Rosa would have to speak now. The pilot turned slowly toward him. “It was nice having you aboard. Good-bye, Benzi.”

  “But —” Benzi jerked his shoulders and began to spin; Iris caught him. “Can’t I stay?”

  “Come, now. You have to go with your mother, you know that.”

  “But —” A lump rose in his throat. He stared at the smiling Rosa, feeling betrayed. “I thought I could stay with you.”

  “The trip’s over, child. I have things to attend to.” Rosa moved away. Iris gripped him; Benzi swallowed.

  “Come on,” his mother said. He blinked; a tear hung in front of him, glistening in the light.

  Iris had no chance to speak to Benzi until they were aboard the shuttle that would take them to the Island Platform. She had barely heard the words of welcome an aide to the Project Council had uttered to the new arrivals; she had hardly glanced at the curving white corridors of Anwara as she and the others were led to the shuttle dock.

  She was frightened. She had looked forward to these moments ever since she had arrived at the Institute, and now she was afraid. She had expected that this time would be the most joyous occasion of her life. Perhaps she had worked too hard for it; she might find that the reality did not match her dream.

  She adjusted the straps holding her to her seat, then helped Benzi with his. The boy’s lips quivered; she could see that he was holding back tears.

  “You were very good during the trip,” she said at last. He did not reply. “I should have paid more attention to you. You see, I’m just as nervous as you are. I’ve worked so hard for this, and I guess I was thinking more of myself than of you.”

  He nodded. She watched the small screen in front of them as the shuttle glided out of the dock; Venus was hidden in the shadow of the Parasol. “I know how you feel,” she went on. “I know how hard it was for you to leave Lincoln, and you were very brave about it. It was hard for me to leave, too, but please believe me when I say that you’ll be happy here. You would have had to leave Lincoln anyway when you got older, and you’ll have a lot of opportunities here you wouldn’t have had there. Maybe someday, you’ll do something that’ll make the whole household proud of you, and then —”

  “Why couldn’t I stay on the ship?” he asked.

  She glanced at him, stunned. “The ship?”

  “With Rosa and the pilots. They liked me. They said I was the copilot. I thought —”

  “But you couldn’t have stayed with them. They were only —” She fell silent; she had been about to scold him for having such a foolish idea. What right did she have to scold him? She had left him for the Institute; she had taken him away from his home. Even now, she could not regret what she had done. Perhaps he was expecting her to leave again; the pilot had shown him more kindness than she had.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” she said. “You’ll see. You’ll be happy on the Islands, and your father and I will help you in any way we can. I want you to feel that you can talk to us about anything that’s troubling you. We won’t leave you again, Benzi, I promise. You’ll have a real home.”

  Even as she spoke, she felt somehow dishonest and wondered if the boy sensed that. She should have been enjoying her triumph instead of being disturbed by his worries; he should have been sharing her excitement instead of muttering some nonsense about staying aboard the freighter. Wenda would have called it a bad omen. Iris shook her head; she had left Lincoln behind long ago. She would put the past aside.

  The shuttle fell into orbit around Venus. The future lay ahead of her; her line, embodied in her son, would begin here and share in Earth’s greatest triumph.

  Her spirits had lifted by the time they reached the Platform. Benzi seemed awed by the sight of the floating Island on his screen; he waved his hands happily as the Platform rose toward them from the darkness. She had been foolish to worry so much earlier, and Benzi had probably sensed her concern. It was no wonder he had seemed unhappy.

  Iris was now impatient for the trip to be over. Her fellow passengers seemed to share her mood; they sat tensely in their seats as the cart carried them toward the airship bay. She said fare
well to them there; she was the only one of the group going to Island Two.

  “God go with you, son,” one of the men said to Benzi. The boy pressed closer to Iris as she lifted their bags. “You’re a lucky boy to be here.”

  “Lucky?” Benzi asked.

  “You bet you are.”

  Benzi looked away from the man’s intense gaze.

  The airship they boarded was worn and shabby, smaller than the one that had carried them away from Lincoln. Other people bound for Island Two were already in their seats, most of them clothed in the gray garb of workers; a few were dozing. It was just another trip to them, probably one they had taken many times.

  Two women glanced at Iris as she slid her bags under the seat; they wore the pins of engineers. “You’re new,” one said to her in Anglaic.

  “Yes, I am,” Iris replied.

  “I can always tell, even if I haven’t been informed of the fact earlier. Sometimes, they look like you, all full of thoughts about the wonderful deeds they have planned. Sometimes they look like they’ve made the biggest mistake of their lives, and sometimes they look completely panic-stricken. Welcome to the Project, young woman.”

  “Thanks.” Iris settled Benzi in his seat and then sat down, feeling a bit deflated by the engineer’s greeting.

  “Sometimes,” the woman continued, “the ones who have the most enthusiasm at the start are the ones who get most discouraged.”

  “That won’t be true of me,” Iris said. “I went from a farm town to the Cytherian Institute. I went through too much to get here. I won’t be discouraged.”

  The engineer lifted a brow. “I must say, young lady, that you don’t sound as though much could stop you.”

  All the doubts Iris had been keeping at bay returned. What if, in spite of everything, all her sacrifices had been for nothing? What if she made no real contribution to make up for all the hurt she had inflicted on others to get here? Others could have done her work on the Islands. She had a sudden desire to flee from the airship and beg for passage back to Earth, to what was known and safe.