Venus of Dreams

by Pamela Sargent

  |Go to Table of Contents |

  Thirty-One

  The sirens began to wail. Those sitting outside the workers’ residence jumped to their feet and hastened inside. Chen picked up his pace as he hurried toward the door.

  The door closed behind him. “Just a puncture,” one man was saying to another, though the pitch of the siren and its intermittent bursts of sound had already told them that. Chen could see the strain on the faces nearest to him. People were seating themselves at tables near the walls; few spoke. No one was looking at the wall screen, where a diagram outlined the place where a tiny meteorite had punctured the dome of Island Two. Once, the workers would have gone about their business unperturbed while joking with any new arrivals who seemed fearful as they all waited for the puncture to be sealed. This time, however, the puncture had reminded them of how vulnerable they were.

  Four months had passed since Earth’s ultimatum. During the first month, their spirits had been high, and the barriers that had often divided the Islanders from one another had disappeared. Workers joked with Linkers; Guardians shared meals with young Islanders. It seemed that nothing could touch them. The Habbers had continued with their work on Venus’s surface, and there had been rumors that the Habitats would find a way to force concessions from the Nomarchies.

  Now, wherever Chen went, he saw despairing eyes and furtive glances. They had enough food, and yet he knew that some were already laying away secret stores in their rooms, as if expecting the food and water to give out. Others had become obsessed with running checks on the Island’s life-support systems, planning for the time when an irreplaceable component failed. People snapped at one another, or lapsed into sullen silences. Gradually, they were losing hope. They had deluded themselves into thinking that their defiance would cause Earth to back down quickly; now, as every day passed, they saw that Earth was prepared to wait them out. The longer they waited, the more they would lose; they might wait for nothing and be punished by Earth more severely in the end.

  Chen had heard rumors of plots, of pilots trying to find some way of attacking the orbiting Earth ships or of specialists preparing to move against the Administrators. So far, it was only talk, and Pavel Gvishiani or Fawzia Habeeb usually brought such talk to an end with a rousing address filled with strong words and assurances that the Mukhtars’ will would weaken. Eventually, such speeches would have to be followed by actions, or the Islanders would cease to listen to them.

  Earth did not have to act. In spite of Pavel’s assurances, Earth had apparently assessed the situation accurately. The Nomarchies would not have to defeat the Islanders; the Islanders would defeat themselves. The Islands had become their prison.

  Chen left the common room and walked down the hall that led to his own room. A few children sat near one wall, playing with some marbles; otherwise, the hall was empty. People no longer propped their doors open or gathered in the corridors of the residence. Even greeting a friend was hazardous now; one never knew if one would receive a smile, a scowl, or a curse. Some people resented any show of cheerfulness or determination, while others grew even more despondent when they saw that friends shared their fears.

  He opened his door. Iris, as usual, was lying on the bed reading. When she wasn’t reading or attending yet another useless meeting of her team, she was either staring into space or droning on about old times in Lincoln. There were times when her passivity had made Chen want to strike her; because he loved her and feared his own bottled-up anger, he avoided her as much as possible, returning to the room only to sleep.

  He tiptoed past, not wanting to disturb her; she looked up as he sat down on the floor. Her eyes were blank; she had been drinking, he was sure. Iris’s secret stores included as many bottles as she had been able to lay her hands on; she made him think of Angharad and the times he had seen Iris’s mother alone in her courtyard with an empty bottle. He wanted to scold her, but restrained himself.

  She rested her chin on her hands as she watched him. “You haven’t carved anything lately,” she said.

  He gazed down at his hands. “Haven’t felt like it. I don’t like what I see in people’s faces now.”

  “You could carve other things.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You could carve me. You’ve got the time now. Or are you still afraid you’ll steal my soul?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I am.” It was easier to admit to that than to tell her he had no desire to carve her doleful face. “Iris?”

  “What is it?”

  “Let’s not eat in this room tonight, or the common hall. Let’s go for a walk and eat in one of the gardens and maybe —”

  “I don’t feel like it.”

  “You never feel like doing anything.”

  “I do what I have to do. Anything else is a waste of energy.”

  “Well, you might feel better if you —” Chen stopped. He didn’t want to endure more useless bickering. Once, he would have been happy to have been able to spend so much time with her; he was already looking for an excuse to leave the room again. He clenched his teeth, wondering if his love for Iris was finally starting to die. He could not allow that, could not endure that defeat.

  “I’m sorry, Chen,” she said. “I could stand it if I thought we had a chance. I don’t know what I’m more afraid of — that we’ll just go on like this, waiting, or that someone will suddenly try something mad.”

  “You can’t do anything about that. You could do something about yourself. I can’t see you like this.”

  She sat up. Strands of hair hung around her face; her green eyes seemed lifeless. “What you don’t know is that I helped to bring this about. I didn’t just go to Pavel that time to inform him about the workers — I told him what I thought he might have to do. It happens that what I said agreed with what he was planning, but I went along. I keep thinking now of how I could have prevented it.”

  “You couldn’t have stood against Pavel.”

  “It was I who went to the Habbers for him. I kept thinking I could make up for things, that I could help save this Project. Everything I’ve done —” She sank back on the bed.

  Chen went back into the hall. He longed to get away from the building; he hoped that the puncture would be repaired soon.

  “Chen!”

  Tonie Wong was leaning against the opposite wall. He nearly gasped when he saw the bruise marring her cheek; her mouth was smeared with blood. He hurried toward her.

  “I have to speak to you,” she said.

  “You need a physician.” He touched her shoulder; she winced. “Come inside my room.”

  “Not there.” She tugged at his arm and drew him along the corridor and then through a narrower passageway until they came to her door. She pulled him inside.

  Her bed was rumpled; the floor was littered with empty food containers. The screen was streaked with dirt; clothes were strewn around the room. “What happened?” Chen asked. “Who did this to you?”

  Tonie sat down on the bed. He sat next to her, angry at seeing marks on her beautiful face. “Chen, you have to help me.”

  “Tonie, who did this?”

  “Fei-lin.”

  Chen was shocked. He was about to rise and summon help through the screen when her hand closed around his wrist. “Listen to me, Chen. There’s a plot. Fei-lin’s involved in a plot. This isn’t just talk, either. They’re going to do it, maybe today, maybe tomorrow. Fei-lin hid it from me, but I knew he was involved in something. He finally told me, and then he made me swear to keep silent, so I did. I was a fool, I thought he’d change his mind, and then I told him today that I’d go to someone and tell what I knew. That was when he beat me.”

  “He did this, and no one heard? No one tried to stop it?”

  “You know what it’s been like around here. We aren’t the only ones who’ve been fighting.”

  “And he left you here like this?”

  “He knocked me out, I think. He probably thought I couldn’t tell anyone then. Maybe he thought I
was dead.”

  “Tonie.” Chen felt her head; she grimaced as he touched a bump. “What kind of plot is this?”

  “They’re going to take an airship to the Platform. They’ve got hold of some of the small nuclear charges we use for surface construction. They’re going to take them to the Platform, and then threaten to destroy it unless Earth backs down and calls off its blockade.”

  Chen let his hand drop. “But why?”

  “Don’t you see? Without the Platform, shuttles can’t get to us. The Islands would die before the Platform could be rebuilt or the damage repaired. It might set the Project back for good. Earth would lose, but so would we. We’d be cut off.”

  “It’s mad.”

  “I tried to tell him that. I told him the Guardians there would stop him. He said that by the time they knew what was going on, the charges would be set and they’d be powerless to stop him and the others. He kept saying that it was better than waiting, and that Earth would have to give in.”

  “He’s willing to gamble all our lives on that?”

  Tonie covered her bruise with one hand. “Mukhtar Pavel has gambled them already. Fei-lin claims this plot isn’t a gamble, that Earth can’t afford to see the Project damaged so badly. He says that it’ll show how determined we are, that we’d destroy all the Islands before giving in. He thinks once he and those with him make this move, then other Islanders will rally behind them and the Mukhtars will back down.”

  Chen swallowed hard. In a way, it made sense. The example of Islanders choosing to die and destroy all that they had worked for rather than giving in might rouse other discontented souls on the home world. The Project would end, and the rule of the Mukhtars with it.

  “What’s happened to Fei-lin?” he whispered. “How could he do these things?”

  “He hasn’t been the same. He was so happy before the Earth ships came, when we were planning for our child. He couldn’t bear it when he saw —” She clutched at him. “Chen, you have to help me.”

  “They have to be stopped.”

  “Listen to me!” Her eyes glistened. “Don’t you understand? If they’re stopped, the Administrators here will have to punish them somehow. I can’t do that to my bondmate. I can’t betray him that way. He won’t listen to me, but maybe he will to you. I was going to you before when he beat me — I only wanted you to talk to him, I wouldn’t have —” Her voice was growing hoarse. “He’s always respected you, he might listen to you. You might talk him out of it, and then you could go to the Administrators together. He wouldn’t be punished then.”

  “We could all be lost now. How can you care what happens to Fei-lin after this?” He gestured at her bruised face.

  “I think of what he was before. It wasn’t his true self who did this to me. He was your friend. Haven’t we meant something to you? Didn’t we stand with you, on the Bat, when Iris was in danger? Can’t you do this for me, at least try? Fei-lin may already be sorry, and may listen to you. If he doesn’t, and you fail, then I’ll see that the Fei-lin I loved is no more, and I won’t try to protect him.”

  He steadied himself. “You said you don’t know when they’re heading for the Platform. There may not be much time. I’ll have to go to the bay, in case they’re already there. If they are, I’ll try to talk to Fei-lin alone — if not, I’ll find him and talk to him. Let’s hope the alarm and dome puncture delayed them.” He took a breath. “You’ll have to do something for me too. Are you sure you don’t need a physician now?”

  “I’m sure.” She dabbed at her mouth. “I blocked the worst blows.”

  “If you don’t hear from me in three hours, you have to go to the Administrators and tell them the whole story. Ask to see Amir Azad — he’d listen to you. Wait here until you hear from me, and then do it. Promise me.”

  “But —”

  “You have to think of yourself, Tonie. You knew about this plot, and had suspicions, and you didn’t speak out. You’ll have to tell what you know and show what Fei-lin did to you if you don’t want to be punished yourself. Promise.”

  She nodded. “I promise. You’ll convince him, won’t you? You’ll find a way, I know you will.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” he said as calmly as he could. “I’ve talked Fei-lin out of foolishness before.” He tried to smile. “By the time you go to the Administrators, you’ll probably find that we’re both already there, that it’s over. But promise me you’ll go.”

  “I will.” A tear trickled down her face.

  Chen touched her cheek, then hurried from the room.

  Chen had to wait for only a few minutes until the alarm sounded again, telling the Islanders that it was safe to leave their buildings. As he raced toward the bay, Chen realized that he should have told Iris where he was going, and why. She, however, would have wanted to go to the Administrators immediately; he would have had no chance to save his friend from punishment.

  He owed this to Fei-lin, who had stood by Chen when it counted. He owed it more to Tonie, whom he had once loved himself. He did not know what he would say to Fei-lin, but he would think of something. He would give the other man a chance to redeem himself, and prove that Tonie was right about her bondmate, and if Fei-lin ever hurt her again, Chen would see that he paid for it.

  He was panting by the time he reached the bay. The wide door opened; some pilots and workers were going over a few of the cradled airships with their scanners. At the end of the row of cradles, he saw that a few people were already boarding the airship nearest to the lock; Fei-lin was with the group.

  Chen was too late; they were already preparing to leave. If Tonie went to the Administrators, the few crews remaining on the Platform could be warned before the airship reached that destination; the bays there could be barred. He wondered if he could count on Tonie.

  There was a small screen next to the entrance. Chen went over to the screen, checked to make certain no one was near enough to hear him, then whispered Iris’s code.

  Her face appeared on the screen almost instantly. “Iris, listen,” he said quickly. “There isn’t much time. Don’t ask me how I know this, just assume I do. An airship is going to leave Island Two and head for the Platform. It mustn’t be allowed to land, or the Platform may be destroyed.”

  Iris’s eyes widened. “But why —”

  “Don’t ask. It’s a plot to pressure Earth into backing down or seeing the Project destroyed. You’ve got to go to Amir and tell him that no airship can be allowed to land at the Platform now.”

  “But who —”

  “I can’t tell you that now. Just do it. Go to Amir.” Another thought occurred to Chen. “But tell him that he mustn’t try to stop the airship from leaving here first. They’ve got explosive charges. If anyone tries to keep them from leaving, they could threaten this Island. This is important. They can’t know they’ve been found out until they’re away from the Island and can’t do any harm. Will you do it?”

  She nodded; life had returned to her eyes. “I’ll go now. Chen, are you all right?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Before she could protest, or ask any more questions, he had thumbed the screen, blanking it.

  He turned toward the bay. If he had any sense, he would leave now, but he had made a promise to Tonie. There was still a slight chance he might be able to help Fei-lin. Chen lifted his head and began to walk past the cradles toward the airship.

  Six people had boarded the ship; he did not know how many others might be inside. Ten others were standing below the ramp; they were all workers. Somehow, they had managed to acquire nuclear charges and get them loaded onto the ship without attracting any notice, if what Tonie had told him was true; they probably had weapons as well, since they would need them to subdue the Platform crews. Eleanor Surrey was with the group; Chen was sure that she and the others could not have planned this alone. Someone had helped them, perhaps even someone among the Administrators; they could never have carried out their plan otherwise. He shivered. Whatever he thought of Amir, Iris c
ould trust him, but Chen was already wondering how many might be involved in the plot. Even Amir might not be able to stop it.

  He tried to compose his thoughts. Somehow, he did not think the Administrators, even Pavel, were capable of planning such an action. They would never destroy their handiwork unless there was clearly no alternative, and perhaps not even then. Pavel might not balk at sacrificing individuals, but he and the others could not destroy their entire life’s work.

  Eleanor glared at Chen as he approached; he bowed his head slightly, and kept his face still. “What do you want?” the blond woman asked.

  “Have to talk to Fei-lin here.” Chen waved casually at his friend. His hand shook a little; Chen lowered his arm and thrust his hand into his pocket.

  “Well, make it quick.” Eleanor jerked her head up at the airship cabin in the cradle. “We’ve got a shipment to take over to the Platform, and we’ve got repairs to make there.”

  Chen struggled for words; it did not seem that he would be able to talk to Fei-lin alone. He stared at his old friend. “You can’t go, Fei-lin.” He spoke in Anglaic, afraid that Eleanor would get suspicious if he used the Chinese she did not know. “Tonie’s ill. She needs you back in her room.”

  “What?” Fei-lin seized Chen’s arm. “Is she all right? Tell me!” His eyes were filled with guilt and remorse; perhaps Tonie was right about her bondmate.

  “She’s all right,” Chen said, “but she’ll need a physician. You should go to her — she’ll need you with her. She wants you to come. Someone else can take your place here.” If he could only get Fei-lin away from here, at least his friend would be safe. Chen could tell Fei-lin that Tonie had told him of the plot when they were outside the bay; if Fei-lin saw that the plot was doomed, he might be willing to go to the Administrators with Chen. Chen would lie for Fei-lin if he had to, claim that the other man had come to him to expose the plot.

  “Is it serious?” Eleanor asked.

  “I don’t know. I was told —”

  “Well, if it is, Fei-lin can’t do her any good, and if it isn’t, he won’t be needed.”