by Sarah Zettel
“It’s a good idea,” he said. “It’s worth a shot. But I’ve got to tell you”—he tugged on the end of his pony tail—“I’m not sure how much I can help you right now. I’m not sure about a whole lot of things.”
Veronica nodded, all the bluster and kidding gone from her face. “Just help me not get thrown out of here. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Michael searched her eyes for a moment. She meant it. She wanted to stay, and he wanted…
What do I want?
He wanted to talk to Helen. He wanted her to see what she was doing, to herself, to Venera, to everybody and everything. But he didn’t know if she would hear him anymore or if she ever had. He saw the flush in her face as she addressed the crowd, as she finally made Venera truly her own. How could he reach past that? How could he make her hear?
God, God, God, what am I going to do? Jolynn, Chord, Chase—I can’t risk them. If I can’t make her hear, what do I do?
The image of Jolynn’s golden-brown eyes flashed in front of his mind’s eye, and he knew. There was one thing that might still reach Helen, and if it didn’t work, well, the Queen Isabella would be right there.
The engineers had grown a debating chamber for the Law Meet, but there had not been time to grow a very big one. The pink-and-cream shell was barely big enough to hold all the ambassadors who hovered in the air, finding still pockets between the currents of the distracted wind.
Eighteen ambassadors had been assigned to New Home. Each of the twelve specialties was represented, along with six seniors to act as administrators. D’seun knew only a handful of them, but that did not matter. He held Z’eth’s vote. The rest would follow along with them as soon as the formal debate was over with.
D’seun hovered near a speaker box improvised from some of Br’sei’s lacelike cortices and a frame of stiffened ligaments shielded by nothing more than sail skin. Through the light gaps in the shell’s side, he could see the joyous activity of the newly arrived engineers. Surveying expeditions were being set to ride the major latitudes. All the living highlands needed to be located and tested. The winds had to be gauged and mapped, along with as many of the cross-currents as possible. The wind seed that had sprouted needed to be analyzed in terms of growth and evolution so it could be determined what could be best layered on top of it.
So much work, so many minds and souls needed. So many complications, but soon those would be lessened. While all his colleagues listened, the speaker box pulled the record of Z’eth’s last conversation with the New Person, Ambassador Helen, and repeated it smoothly. Hearing it again, it sounded no better.
“There are those with whom we disagree about our rights to this world, and consequently yours.” The box used its own soft, unimpressive voice to repeat Ambassador Helen’s words, as it had no reference for how she really sounded. “They might attempt to cut off our supply routes from the other worlds. We may be forced to ask for a great deal of assistance in maintaining ourselves here.”
The final words died away and D’seun expanded himself, body and wings. No matter what promises he was certain of, he was an ambassador with a case to present.
But before he could begin, Ambassador T’taik rattled her wings. She was from the Calm Northerns, like T’sha, and had the red-and-white crest and burnished bronze skin to prove it.
“Ambassadors, I ask you to keep in mind two things,” T’taik said. “The first is that this engineer, Vee, has made no promises or exchanges for representational power among her people. She is just an engineer, trained in the use of tools, not of words. This Ambassador Helen is basing all she knows of us on potentially inaccurate information. This may have led to a poor choice of words. Second”—she raised her hands—“T’sha was in a similar position. Despite her title and power to promise, she is only very new at our work and if may be she misrepresented herself. Ambiguity can be seen for example—”
D’seun ruffled his crest and broke across her words. “You are too hard on our colleague, Ambassador. Her words made the situation abundantly clear. The New People are obviously composed of several different families. The ones who are our neighbors and offer us community are one group, and they are, probably, sane. But these others, this distant family, are not sane. They are greedy and seek to stop the spread not only of life, but of their own offshoots.”
T’taik swelled at his words. “Ambassador D’seun, you have been so ready to condemn someone as greedy or insane during this undertaking, I wonder at it.”
D’seun shifted his weight on the perches. “I have. I have been overzealous in my desire to claim this world as New Home. I admit this. If the Meet wishes to poll the members about my fitness to give opinion on this issue, I will not argue the question.”
It was a good strategy, and one that D’seun could be confident of winning. The ambassadors debated it briefly and the question was soon called. The consensus was that D’seun recognized his overzealousness and would not be denied a voice and vote in future.
“It must be acknowledged, however,” said Ambassador D’tran, “that an engineer, someone responsible for building and creating, must know what uses the resources of the world she lives on are being put to. If the New People have a legitimate claim here, why did she not say so? T’sha did make that point clear in her previous conversations.” T’sha’s last conversation with Engineer Vee had also been played for the Law Meet.
“We do not know for certain that Ambassador T’sha’s words were completely clear,” replied T’taik. “The New People are not cortices. We cannot read their imprinting to be certain the information has been properly received.”
They are listening to her, D’seun felt his bones tighten with worry. How could they be listening to this?
“It may be that you are both right.”
D’seun turned gratefully to Ambassador Z’eth. A stray breeze blew past, carrying the touch of Z’eth’s words on it as she spoke.
“It may be that this New Person, Engineer Vee, did not properly understand what she was being asked and so improperly transmitted and translated that information for her ambassador. It may also be that she is in fear of a family of her people that are insane. Which of us could clearly speak of such a thing to strangers, whose motivations we do not know?”
Z’eth beat her wings twice, lifting herself up over the center of the Meet. “So my first belief is that we need much more time to speak with Ambassador Helen, Engineer Vee, and any other New People who present themselves.”
No, no, there is no more time!
“However,” Z’eth went on, “if the distant family of the New People is found to be insane, we need to ask what should be done about them.”
“Clearly, they need to be prevented from interfering with the New People and New Home,” said T’taik. “Their means of transport should be fairly easy to identify and disable.”
T’sha must have sent T’taik to speak in her place. That was the only answer. What promise lay there? He had not had time to research this all as thoroughly as he should have. If they listened to this now….
“I say that’s not enough, Ambassador T’taik.” Ambassador P’eath, who, like D’seun, was a refugee from the Southern Roughs, inflated her body fully. “When has any insane being been allowed to exist as more than raw materials to build a sane future from?”
T’taik dipped her muzzle. “That is the way it has been, yes. But we have it from Engineer Vee that the New People do not have the same views of how to deal with insanity.”
“They would allow insanity to live? To grow in its own way and risk smothering sanity?” P’eath extended her wings. Relief lifted D’seun’s body. “With respect, T’taik, it sounds as if our neighbors may be slightly insane themselves.”
“Is difference insanity?” inquired T’taik mildly, letting her crest rise as if in surprise. “If it is, we are in great trouble, because the Equatorials and the Northerns will be at each other’s throats in the civil courts again.”
A general whistle of assent
, and some clacking muzzles in chagrin and amusement. Disquiet filled the pockets between D’seun’s bones. He looked to Z’eth, who made no move to silence the words. What was she waiting for? Why was she permitting this to continue? She had promised! He had agreed to give her everything he had. He should put an end to this right now, call for a vote and end this display….
The chamber portal opened. All the ambassadors fanned their wings, turning themselves to see what this interruption was.
It was Engineer D’han, shrunk so small he was almost cringing as he floated through the threshold.
“Ambassador, forgive me, but…Ambassadors,” he stammered, beating his wings and bobbing his head, looking for a friendly face. “We have a translation of one of the last trans port-to-base transmissions from the New People….”
Several crests ruffled quizzically. “The New People exchange patterned radiation, as I have told you,” D’seun reminded them. “Most of it heads off into the vacuum, but some of it passes between their base and their transports on the surface. We have been monitoring and translating it since they first began, although it is still slow going because it is so tangled with their command languages. The practice greatly improved our speed of communication when we were finally able to speak to them.”
“Thank you, Ambassador.” Z’eth dipped her muzzle to him and then she dropped herself to D’han’s level. “What do they say in this translation you have made?”
D’han seemed to have pulled himself together. His size normalized and his sentences smoothed out. “They say the distant family is insane.”
The chamber erupted; Questions and exclamations buffeted D’seun, but even so he swelled in triumph. Now the debate was over. Now they could move.
Z’eth rose up high, spreading her wings and swelling her torso to its fullest extent. “Ambassadors! Ambassadors, please!”
Did you know? D’seun gazed up at Z’eth in awe and admiration. Did you time this entrance? She might have. It was well within her skills to delay a message just a little so it might be used to bind the Law Meet together whether they were promised to her or not.
Stillness settled slowly. Z’eth fell back beside D’han, who looked a little dazed now. “How is the distant family insane, Engineer? Tell us exactly.”
D’han’s gaze darted around the room, amazed to find all the ambassadors pinning him down with their attention. “The distant family says they are sending a force to New Home. They will cut the New People off from the resources of their world and force them to comply with the wishes of the distant family.”
“Well then.” Z’eth whistled and lifted her muzzle to the entire Meet. “It appears the New People have ended our debate for us. We cannot permit the insane to overrun the sane.”
As the whistles of agreement filled the chamber, D’seun’s soul swelled.
At last, he thought. At last. This world will be ours and the New People will be ours or they will be raw materials to serve us and our life.
At last.
Chapter Nineteen
CROWDS THRONGED IN THE corridors outside flight control. Children clung to their mother’s tunics or their father’s arms. Teenagers slumped against the walls, torn between looking tough and being uncertain. Whole families stood around and sorted through bags, trying to make sure everything precious had gotten packed.
Five thousand people—half the base—had decided to stay and sit out whatever the U.N. was going to put them through. A whole five thousand, and Helen was grateful for each person.
But according to the note in her desk that morning, Michael Lum was not one of them.
The crowds parted around her, saying hello or just looking guilty as they did. Helen still had to crane her neck, searching for a truly familiar face amid the crowd that suddenly all looked alike to her.
At last she spotted him. He stood patiently with his wife and their two children. He had one arm around Jolynn and one hand on his older son’s shoulder. Jolynn rested both of her hands on the shoulders of the younger boy and looked straight ahead with a kind of grim determination, as if she could make the line move by sheer willpower.
Helen’s name rippled through the crowd as she marched up to Michael and his family.
“Good morning, Michael,” she said. “Good morning, Jolynn. May I speak with your husband?”
“Certainly, Dr. Failia.” Jolynn shuffled backward a fraction of an inch. She and Michael exchanged a look Helen couldn’t read, and she felt an irrational stab of annoyance run through her.
Michael said nothing, just crossed to the other side of the corridor a half-step behind Helen. She had to pivot to face him. When she did, she saw his face was full of the gentle humor that had characterized him for so many years.
“I take it you got my resignation,” he said.
“I did.” She nodded once. “I do not accept it.”
“Helen.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “You’re going to have to.”
A hundred emotions flooded through Helen—sorrow, betrayal, loneliness, desperation. She had no words, no words at all. He was a child of Venera. He was everything they had worked for.
“This is your home, Michael” was all she could think to say.
“And that is my family, Helen.” He stabbed a finger at Jolynn, who had her arms around Chord and Chase. “Whom I love. Now, you’ve got this great idea about saving the world from the madness of Earth and that’s fine, but you’re doing it by creating more madness.”
“I am trying to put an end to—”
“To what?” Michael threw up his hands. “Our stability? Our safety? How many lives is this glorious ending worth? We’ve got two dead already, Helen. I will not stand around and watch the body count rise.”
Helen felt her chest constrict until the pain ran down her arms. She could not lift a hand against his words, which struck her like blows. She could barely think Michael, Michael who had gone away and returned to become one of the people she trusted the most in all the worlds. How could he say this to her? How could he abandon Venera?
“Do you have any idea what’s about to happen?” she asked him coldly. “They are not just coming to end any independent research, any good science we might ever do; they are coming to decide what all of us are going to do with the rest of our lives.” She stepped up close to him, trying to fill his world with her words. He had to understand. He had to. “And what about the aliens? Do you really think the U.N. is going to let them build a new home here? The yewners are coming to rob us and them of the future, of our future.”
“Our future?” Michael’s voice cracked sharply on the second syllable. “Our future based on what? Murder? Deception? Wounded pride? Don’t you see what you’re doing?” He swept out his hand. “You are demanding that the people of Venera give up their lives, their freedom, their futures, their families so you can keep your pretty toy. At the very least, you are going to prison. You might manage to get killed if the U.N. troops decide to come in shooting, and if you don’t stop this disaster right now, you are taking five thousand people with you.”
“What’s happened to you Michael?” Helen searched his face, looking for something she could understand. “The only way we’re going to lose is if they divide us. By leaving, you are going to let them walk in here and take whatever they want to, without understanding what’s really at stake, without caring—”
“You just don’t see it anymore, do you Helen?” His hand swept out, encompassing the corridor, the crowds, the whole of Venera. “You don’t care what anyone does or who they really are.” People were starting to murmur, starting to stare. Michael didn’t seem to notice. He stabbed a finger at her. “All you care about is your vision and your pride, and your pride is Venera!”
Helen’s fists clenched. This was not happening. Michael could not be leaving her. Not when she needed him.
“If you’ve got a problem with me, you take it up with me. But right now—”
“If I have a problem.” Michael barked out a short, sh
arp laugh. “That’s almost funny.”
Helen’s whole body trembled. “Why are you doing this?”
He met her gaze without hesitation. “Because I will not leave my family to help you start a war.” He shook his head. “You need fanatics to help you now, Helen. I’m sorry to say you’ve got them.”
Fear sent another spasm of pain through Helen’s chest. “I don’t need fanatics, Michael. I need you.”
“No, you don’t.” He shook his head sadly. “You want me because I’m a v-baby and I fit your picture of what Venera ought to be. You’ve lost your ability to see what it is.”
“No,” said Helen softly, firmly. “This is not about me. This is about Venera’s survival.” She gripped his arm, as if she could transmit understanding from her flesh to his. “This is about the U.N. This is about the People flying through the Venusian clouds, looking for New Home.”
This is about you abandoning your position and your responsibilities.
Helen met his gaze and held it. “If you won’t fight for your home, for your people, maybe you should go.” She released him and stepped back.
Even through her anger, she saw how the years of life and service weighed him down, pressing him into the deck and demanding he remain there. “I was going to stay, Helen, I really was, but I can’t.” He stretched both hands out to her, pleading. He was still so young, really. Younger than she’d been when she first flew through the clouds of Venus. He’d given his heart to so many things. He wanted to do right, but with so much to love, how could he see clearly what was most important?
“I can’t stand what’s going on here,” Michael was saying. “Grace was the last straw.”
“Grace…” Helen felt the blood drain from her face. “She’ll be punished on Earth.”
The look he gave her was pure, stunned disbelief. His hands came up as if he meant to strangle the air between them. But his fists closed on emptiness. “Earth,” he breathed. “Mother Earth can’t be trusted. Mother Earth is the villain. But Mother Earth gets to decide how to punish the woman who killed two of our own.” He looked back at Jolynn and his children and shook all the years of his service off. “Good-bye, Helen.”