Venus of Dreams

by Pamela Sargent

  “You know I won’t speak.” She shook off his hand. “What have we come to?” She recalled her meeting with Pavel. “What have I done?” she whispered. “I should never have gone to Pavel. Amir, we’ll lose.”

  “That may be. I’ve thought so almost from the start. Then you came to Pavel, and I had second thoughts. I knew after that I wouldn’t change Pavel’s mind, and I wanted to protect you however I could. I believed I might be able to exert some restraining influence on him. I was wrong, of course, and now we cannot turn back. There’s still a chance that some of the Mukhtars will restrain others, that Earth will limit itself simply to rattling its swords at the Habs.”

  Iris felt dizzy. The unreal atmosphere of the past several hours had infected Amir, too, and, as a Linker, one who had always dominated others, he probably felt that he couldn’t be touched. The world, to him, was only data to be manipulated and understood.

  “Iris,” he said. She felt his breath on her face. “Pavel and the Habbers with him will speak soon.” The Linker was speaking in Arabic now. “Come with me, to my room. We shall hear him speak together. We can still seize a bit of joy for ourselves at such a time, and the danger that may await us later will add some —”

  “I don’t want to hear him,” she cried. She spun around and ran; she was panting by the time she emerged from the trees. She hurried along the path and passed some people sitting in a garden; someone had set up a screen there, and she could hear the calm, measured voice of Pavel Gvishiani. She moved more quickly until the voice faded.

  After a while, she noticed that the Island had grown quieter. She imagined that everyone had suddenly vanished, that she was alone.

  She rounded a bend and saw two women sitting on a bench. One of the women looked up; she was holding a pocket screen. She gestured to Iris wordlessly.

  Iris walked toward the women and peered over their shoulders at the screen. A Habber ship was moving against the backdrop of space; in the right corner of the screen, eight tiny bright specks flickered. The Habber ships were leaving now, she saw, and Earth’s ships would soon be near Anwara.

  “They’re leaving us,” one of the women said. Iris saw that the woman was barely more than a girl. “I wonder what’ll become of us now.”

  “You mustn’t think that way,” the other woman said. “The Project’s still safe, we still have Habbers here to help us. Pavel knows what he’s doing. He got help here when we needed it, and he’ll see that we’re safe. You heard him. It was clever of him to persuade the Habber ships to leave while getting those Habbers here to stay on.”

  Iris’s mouth twitched. She could imagine how Pavel had twisted his words to convey that impression; he would even make the Habbers’ decision seem like his own, part of his plan. She stared at the screen and watched the Habber ship grow smaller until all she could see of it was its dimly glowing globe.

  For a week after the departure of the Habber ships, there was no word from Earth or Anwara. Four of the arriving ships from Earth were in orbit around the planet; the others had docked at the satellite.

  The Islanders had begun to resume their usual tasks. Chen was grateful for the work, which kept him from worrying, at least for a little while, about what Earth might do; it also kept him from thinking about Iris. During the past days, she had sunk into a morose silence, and he had been unable to cheer her even for a little while.

  Before the departure of the Habber ships, Iris had convinced herself that Pavel Gvishiani’s gamble would work; now, she seemed to have lost faith in his actions. Chen, on the other hand, could feel grateful that Earth had, at least so far, not reacted more harshly. A battle had been averted, and Chen had no way to affect the future course of events; therefore, he would do what work he could in the meantime and refuse to think about the matter.

  He had been sent to the residence of the Habbers to replace a few worn circuits in their door. He stood in the open doorway as his hands moved automatically along the wall bordering the entrance. He took off panels, tested components, replaced defective ones with new parts; the routine work, which he had done so many times before, was soothing. Occasionally, a Habber walked through the bare and empty room and greeted Chen; otherwise, the place inside was silent, with no sound of chatter in the halls.

  Two Guardians sat outside on the grass near the path leading to the door; one of them threw back her head and laughed. The two seemed carefree enough. Chen supposed that they could afford to be calm; they had done no more than follow their commander’s orders, as they had been trained to do. More important, the fact that they had thrown in their lot with the Islanders had eased more of the hard feeling against them.

  The door’s scanner seemed about to fail. Chen pried out the damaged component and installed another, then replaced a panel. He dropped the worn-out component in his bag; if he could not repair it, he might find use for bits of it elsewhere. Earth’s stinginess had made all of the workers more economical.

  Chen was about to pick up his bag and close the door when the wall screen inside the stone building lit up. The angular, stern face of a dark-haired man stared into the room; Chen imagined him reaching for the door with one giant hand. Two Habbers had just entered the room; they turned toward the screen.

  “There’s something on the screen,” Chen shouted to the Guardians; the two got to their feet and hurried toward the entrance.

  “People of the Cytherian Islands!” the man on the screen called out. “I speak for the Council of Mukhtars and all of the Nomarchies of Earth. You know me as Abdullah Heikal.”

  Chen tensed as one of the Guardians gasped. Abdullah Heikal was a Mukhtar, and it was rumored that he controlled the Council of Mukhtars. Clearly, Earth had come to a decision, and a Mukhtar was addressing them directly, instead of having someone on Anwara speak for Earth. That was ominous.

  “You Islanders have acted without consulting us, or our representatives on the satellite Anwara. Not only have you shamed us but you have also shamed yourselves. You have turned to Habbers instead of seeking our guidance to overcome your difficulties. Do you think that we are so lacking in resources? Do you think that we are so lacking in power that we would let this pass?”

  A few more Habbers had entered the room; they were gazing impassively at Abdullah Heikal’s lean, implacable face.

  “People of the Islands! You have conducted yourselves as if you were independent of us. Your Administrators have led you astray.” Abdullah showed his teeth. “But we know that most of you cannot be held responsible for this. Here is our message to you, and note it well, for it will be the last one I send. If you give us the Administrators who betrayed our trust, all of them, every man and woman on each Island’s Administrative Committee, we shall allow the rest of you to remain with the Project. If the Guardians among you will give up their commander, they too will be forgiven their actions. We know that many Habitat-dwellers still live among you. They will be allowed to leave peacefully, though the shuttles carrying them must dock at Anwara first so that we can be certain no Islanders are trying to escape with them. From Anwara, the Habitat-dwellers will be allowed to return to their homes.”

  Chen moved away from the door. A Habber woman glanced at him; he could not read her expression.

  “We shall provide new Administrators,” Abdullah continued. “They’ll study the situation and decide what future course is best. The Project will go on, under our control. Now, some of you may be thinking of resisting us even at this moment. I warn you that such resistance is futile. Our ships are orbiting Venus, and Anwara is under our control. All movement of shuttles to and from the Islands will be blocked. You’ll be cut off from the Bats, from Anwara, and from any sources of new supplies. If a shuttle moves, it will be shot down. If the Habbers are so foolish as to defy our blockade, their ships will also be attacked. We are prepared to wait as long as necessary. You will have to give in eventually.”

  Chen clenched his teeth. The Islanders could feed themselves; at worst, rations might grow short. But wit
hout new equipment, some of their machines would begin to fail, and their life-support systems could be affected. The Bats, cut off from the Islands, would be likely to give in first; the Islands could last for a time, maybe for years, but their resistance would condemn all the Islanders in the end. They would never be settlers. All they would have was the faint hope that Earth might tire of the expense of a seige, or that the Habbers might find a way to break the blockade.

  “You have heard my words,” Abdullah said. “We expect your reply within the next twenty-four-hour period. I warn you, do not resist us. May God guide you to a sensible decision.”

  The image vanished.

  |Go to Table of Contents |

  Thirty

  October 567

  From: Administrator Pavel Gvishiani

  To: All residing on the Cytherian Islands

  Fellow Islanders! Less than two hours ago, you heard the words of Mukhtar Abdullah Heikal. I have now consulted with my fellow Administrators here and with the Administrative Committees of all the other Islands. I shall speak for all, since it was I who brought Earth’s wrath upon us.

  My heart is heavy. I believed that the Mukhtars would see the necessity for our action, and would accommodate themselves to it. I had good reason to put my faith in such a possibility. I have given my life to this Project, and now I have failed it, and failed you also.

  We Administrators cannot take sole responsibility for the decision that now must be made. You must decide that, each of you, every adult, every specialist and worker, every Linker, and every child over the age of twelve. Enter or speak your vote into your screen, and we shall abide by your decision. If it is your will, the other Administrators and I will depart from the Islands and face Earth’s punishment. The rest of you will, if the Mukhtar spoke truly, escape our fate.

  I must speak frankly before you record your votes. Earth has said that if we are given up and the Habbers leave, the rest of you may remain with the Project. You all know how carefully Earth’s governing body measures its words. You all know that the Mukhtars have kept to the letter of every public agreement they have ever made. I must say now that I find it curious that Mukhtar Abdullah Heikal has not promised settlements in the near future, but has only said that you will be allowed to stay here. Perhaps this means that Earth cannot, by itself, guarantee such settlements soon, and cannot promise them to you. Perhaps, on the other hand, the Mukhtar intends to give you as much help as you need, though, if that is so, it is odd that he did not say so, since such a promise would be an incentive to all of you to give in to him.

  The Mukhtar has said only that new Administrators will be sent here, and that they will decide what course is best. This may mean that none of you will be settlers, and will only be allowed to labor for the future generations that will be. It may be that these new Administrators will be free to call in more Guardians to enforce their will here. Though I myself have brought Guardians to our Islands, it has been possible for me, along with a wise and compassionate Guardian commander who has come to share our dream, to limit the scope of their activities. Some of you have come to call individual Guardians friends, and have seen them for what they truly are — young men and women far from home who are lonely and can respond to an extended hand. Scorned and often despised on Earth, misunderstood by the people they must protect, unlikely to rise much further, is it any wonder that our dream can evoke a response in them?

  If we give up the Guardian commander, a new officer will be free to order these Guardians elsewhere, for, if you recall the Mukhtar’s words, he has promised only that they will escape punishment. Perhaps some Guardians will not be displeased at leaving us, but others will be saying farewell to new friends and loved ones. The Mukhtars might send no more Guardians here, or they might send those whose loyalty is unquestioned and who will act swiftly should any Islander give them cause. How well we all know, or have heard, that a small number of Guardians have come to regard their positions as an opportunity for exercising their more brutal instincts.

  In spite of these reservations, I cannot advise you to ignore the warning of Mukhtar Abdullah Heikal. You must decide our fate and your own, and if you give us up, you will be safe from the worst consequences of our actions. You may not be settlers yourselves, but perhaps, someday, your children will be.

  I must inform you of something else before you vote. The Habbers among us have promised to abide by your decision. Should you vote for surrender, they will leave the Islands. If you vote not to give up, they will stay here with us, and will continue with constructing the domes to the best of their ability, for there is enough equipment still here to build more domes. This means that, even during a siege, much of our work could go on. Earth threatens our shuttles, but not our airships, for they cannot leave the Venusian atmosphere and break the blockade. We will still be free to move among the Islands and down to the surface.

  The longer the siege goes on, the more it will cost Earth, and the more likely it will be that some of the Mukhtars will see that another way must be found to resolve the dispute. The more progress we can make on the surface, the more likely it is that some of the Mukhtars will see that we were right, and that Earth has much to lose if it does not come to an agreement with us that preserves both Earth’s authority and our chance to realize our dream. And if the Habbers remain with us, the Habitats, in order to insure the safety of these people, may have to act against Earth.

  Consider this as well. Earth can take no action that endangers the Project’s future existence. The Mukhtars can set up a blockade, but they cannot attack the Bats or the Islands directly without risking the end of the Project. The Mukhtars, who have had centuries to convince all the Nomarchies that this Project will enrich Earth and be its greatest glory, would never survive such a loss. The Habitats would recoil from such brutality and might aid Earth no more, and, without the Habs and with the costs of battles to endure, Earth would never see settlements on Venus and would inherit only ruins and dashed dreams. Earth cannot defeat us outright; it can only persuade us to surrender.

  I tell you all this, fellow Islanders, and yet am forced to admit that surrender now might be the wisest and safest course for all of you. You would not be punished; the Mukhtar has promised you that. Though your lives here might be altered in many ways, and the course of the Project, without the Habbers’ help, might be set back for a time, at least it would go on. Your other alternative is a siege of indeterminate duration with an uncertain outcome.

  I have lived on these Islands all my life. My grandparents came here as workers. Like many of you, they had no learning; like all of you, they dreamed of a new world where the accomplishments of the Cytherians-to-be would add new luster to humankind’s history and lead us another step along the road to our historic destiny — bringing life to worlds where no life has existed, and restoring life to worlds deprived of it. I have given my life to this Project. Yet I would also give up my life for it. If you so choose, I will accept Earth’s judgment gladly and be at peace knowing that you are safe and that the terraforming of Venus will continue.

  Fellow Islanders, you are as dear to me as my children would have been. You must decide my fate and that of my associates. Take an hour to consider my words, and then vote “aye” if you wish to surrender, “nay” if you are willing to endure the siege. So that there will be no doubt in your mind about whatever decision you take, at least sixty percent of you, rather than only a simple majority, must vote yes or no.

  May God guide you. May God’s will be done.

  October 567

  From: Fawzia Habeeb

  To: All Guardians under her command

  Private Communication

  As you know, my fate, and yours, are now in the hands of the Islanders.

  Let me make one fact very clear. Until and unless a Mukhtar or a higher Guardian officer issues orders to you directly, I remain your commander. If the Islanders decide to surrender, then that will be that. I’ll give myself up and accept my responsibility.<
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  If, however, the Islanders refuse to bow to Earth, you will all be faced with what some of you may regard as a dilemma. We were all sworn to follow the Mukhtars; if we remain here under such circumstances, we’ll be violating our oath. So some of you will believe.

  I’ll point out a few facts. I have reason to believe that the Council of Mukhtars is divided on this matter, and that, by linking our fate to that of the Islanders, we are acting in the interests of the Mukhtars, whether some of them realize this or not. The longer a blockade goes on, the more it will cost Earth, and the more likely it is that the Council will back down. And do not believe that there is nothing we can do in the meantime except wait. Opportunities to force the issue are certain to come our way. If I were not sure of this, I would not have taken the risks I have.

  I tell you this, Guardians. You may have a chance in time to be part of this new world if you show your courage now. Should the Islanders refuse to surrender, I shall not stop any of you from leaving this place and giving yourselves up to Earth. But consider this: You may not be punished, but you will never rise. Those who will command you will remember the past, and will not give you more than the lowliest of tasks. If, however, you stay, and stand with me, you may eventually gain more than you realize. Earth will be forced to make concessions, and the Islanders will find ways to reward you. Let me be clear; you have nothing to lose now by remaining here, but you may lose if you leave.

  Think hard on these matters, and then ask yourselves which course is the right one. Ask yourselves if you were better off on Earth or Anwara, where people scorned and despised you, or here, among people who can regard you with respect and even sometimes with affection. Ask yourselves if I, a Linker and Commander, would risk my position in a futile stand.

  My thoughts and prayers are with us all.

  Chen stood in his doorway. The hall outside his room was filled with people shouting to one another in a multitude of languages. Some were arguing with fearful souls who were still undecided about how to vote.