Child of Venus (11 page)

Solveig was standing on the footbridge leaning against the railing, tossing pebbles into the stream below. She looked up as Mahala and Ragnar hurried toward her.

“You took long enough,” Solveig called out. She rested her back against the railing. Solveig would soon be eleven, but already she was taller than Risa. She had let her pale hair grow long, and it hung down her back in two braids. “What did you see at the Center that kept you there so long?”

“That cliff,” Ragnar said, “the one where the diggers are mining. I'd like to carve something on that. I was looking at the patterns the diggers made and thinking about what I could do with them.” He flung his arms out. “A big face—I could carve a big face staring right into the dome!”

Solveig smiled. “You couldn't go out there to do it.”

“So I'd use a digger.” Ragnar frowned at his sister as she shook her head. “What good is that cliff going to be when all the ore's gone? Might as well do something with it.”

“Maybe there won't be anything left of it,” Solveig said. “Maybe it'll just become a hillside covered with trees.”

“As if we're going to be around long enough to see any trees growing out there.”

Solveig plucked at a braid. “I wish I could be around that long,” she murmured. “Everything here could have been done without us. They could have just put more cyberminds inside the domes and had them manage everything.”

“They wouldn't have needed domes at all,” Mahala said, “just the Islands and Anwara. The cyberminds and the Islanders could have done everything from there.”

“I don't care what happens here later,” Ragnar said. “I'd just like to see some other places besides Oberg.”

Mahala had heard the boy say that often. “So do I,” she said fervently. Ragnar glanced at her; she had never admitted that to him before.

“Where would you go?” Solveig asked.

“I haven't really thought about it that much,” Mahala replied. “The Islands, of course, and Anwara.” Given that the Islands sailed in Venus's upper atmosphere and Anwara was the nearest space station, this did not sound very adventurous on her part. “I'd want to see Earth, too.”

“Earth's a big place,” Ragnar said. “You'd never be able to see it all.”

“Well, I could see some of the places my people came from. And
then—” Mahala paused.

“You'd come back here,” Ragnar said, “because there isn't anywhere else to go.”

“There are the Habs,” Mahala said, “and maybe—” She
turned toward the others. “But I'd come back.”

“You've been to Turing,” Ragnar muttered. “That's farther away than I've been.”

They followed the creek toward the lake, walking between two rows of elms with boughs that formed a canopy overhead. Her teacher Karin had told Mahala that the trees here were not like those of Earth, however much they resembled them, that the elms and oaks and willows had been bioengi-neered to mutate into trees that produced more oxygen than did their Earthly counterparts. Mahala loved these elms and knew that they would be preserved by the people of Oberg; they were needed to maintain the dome environments, but more settlers were now encroaching on the open spaces near them.

Clusters of houses covered the land near the water; the lake's silvery surface was almost as smooth as a mirror. “Did Karin tell you which new teachers you're getting yet?” Solveig asked.

“Marina Delon,” Ragnar replied, making a face; his new teacher was reputed to be strict.

“Kiyoshi Tanaka,” Mahala said. According to rumor, Marina got the children who weren't doing as well as expected, and Kiyoshi was assigned those who showed intellectual promise. Mahala was not sure she believed that. The teachers believed in keeping each class together for about three years before breaking it up, so her classmates would have ended up with different teachers even if they had all been doing equally well. They had to learn how to get along with others, and that would not happen if they remained with the same group throughout their schooling.

“You'll be in my class, then,” Solveig said.

“For a while, anyway.” Solveig would probably soon move up to one of the smaller classes of older students, then divide her time among different teachers, depending on her interests and how well she did.

Everything was changing. With the new people in her grandparents' household, Risa and Sef did not have quite as much time for her. Now there would be a new teacher and classmates to adjust to, and Risa would soon be expecting her to take on more household tasks.

Maybe she would not feel quite so uneasy if she had at least some idea of what her future work might be. True, she was only eight, with years ahead of her before she had to make any hard decisions, but she could already guess which of her schoolmates would leave school early to apprentice themselves and what kinds of further studies others might pursue. Unlike some of the more privileged children of Earth, who would be expected to assume positions of power and influence in adulthood, they did not have the luxury of postponing the biological changes of adolescence in order to concentrate on their studies.

Among their fellow students, only she, Solveig, and Ragnar seemed to have no particular direction. Ragnar neglected his lessons for his artistic hobby, while Solveig spent much of her time studying astronomy, a useless interest to pursue on their cloud-enveloped world. Mahala was unable to focus on any one subject. A lesson in the history of Venus would lead to curiosity about the engineering that had built the Parasol and the Islands, and that in turn guided her to readings and history mind-tours about the events on Earth that had originally led to the Project. Karin did not seem too worried about this tendency, but had mentioned it to Risa and Sef during conferences. “Your teacher made it sound,” Risa had said later, “as if you want to swallow the universe.”

She ought to have some sort of goal by now, even if it was still vague. She could aspire to an Island school, perhaps even fulfill her dream of seeing Earth by winning a place at its Cytherian Institute. If she did very well, she might be among the few chosen for Linker training, although she would have to show true brilliance for that. Yet whatever happened, she would eventually come back to Venus and live out her life on an Island or in a surface settlement. She might even end up back in Oberg, living in the west dome.

They came to a slope that led down to the lake. Three men were out fishing on one dock, while other fisherfolk had taken a boat out on the water.

“Maybe we can get a ride across,” Ragnar said. Sometimes a couple of the fishers, if they were in a good mood, would row the children to the other side.

“I'd better not,” Mahala said. “Risa was furious when she found out about the last time. She thinks I'll fall in and drown.”

“Our mother's the same way,” Solveig said. “Somebody ought to teach us how to swim. Then they wouldn't have to worry.”

“They won't, though.” Ragnar kicked a loose pebble along the path. “They'd just say it's a waste of time. You're supposed to use a boat for fishing, not to fool around, and if you're fooling around, you shouldn't be in a boat. So why learn to swim when you'll never use it except when you're doing something you shouldn't be doing?”

Risa would have agreed with the boy, although she would not have come up with such a convoluted argument. Mahala had a bond with Ragnar and his sister. He wanted to do his art, Solveig hoped for a glimpse of the stars, and she longed to see places that were impossible to reach. None of them would ever fulfill such dreams on Venus.

Risa's housemates seemed awkward in Benzi's presence at first, as they had the last time he had visited. Kristof and Barika showed off their son, Kyril, let him sit in Benzi's lap when the Habber showed no objection to that, then vanished with the child to their rooms in Paul's wing of the house, as if to ration his exposure to the Habber. Hoa was even quieter than usual, while her bondmate Jamil was completely tongue-tied. Only Grazie, content to fill Benzi in on the latest Oberg gossip, was at ease, chattering away as Benzi listened politely.

By supper, their shyness had passed, and Benzi, sitting next to Risa, seemed less distant. He laughed at Kolya's jokes, told Noella how pleased he was to see her again, and ate everything the others urged on him. Sef was relating the news of Earth he had heard in the airship bay during his shift there. Mukhtar Kaseko Wugabe, it appeared, was retiring and relinquishing control of Earth's Council of Mukhtars. After dropping from sight for several days, he had turned up in his homeland of Azania to announce that he was giving up his position to pursue a quiet life in a small town bordering the veldt. No one believed that his retirement was voluntary, and there was no word on who might be in control of the Council of Mukhtars now.

“This isn't good news,” Risa said. “Any changes among the Mukhtars make things more uncertain for us.”

“But Earth has no reason to act against your interests,” Benzi said, “and our relations with them are still peaceful, even if strained. The Project's going well, and conditions in the Nomarchies seem calm. At the camp outside Tashkent, even the inmates and Guardians seemed remarkably free of rancor.” The Habber had recently returned from Earth with new settlers from that camp, where those hoping to be allowed to come to Venus waited for passage. “A Guardian officer mentioned a few rumors he'd heard to me. Apparently some in power were worried that Mukhtar Kaseko might still be looking for a way to strike at the Habitats. The other Mukhtars didn't particularly care to give up the calm they have now for glory, so it seems that they decided to ease Kaseko out.”

“Benzi met the Mukhtar after the Revolt,” Grazie said to Risa's newer housemates. “He was part of the Habber delegation that went to Anwara to meet with Mukhtar Kaseko.” The Cytherians had finally risen against those in Ishtar who were conspiring to seize control of Venus's settlements and ally themselves with Earth; a speech of Chimene's in which she had revealed that plot had roused the Cytherians to action. The Habbers had traveled to Anwara then to learn what Earth's intentions were. Happily, they had found out that Kaseko Wugabe, instead of coming to Venus's satellite to reassert Earth's control over the Project, had intended to deceive the conspirators once they revealed their plans to him.

Mahala had learned most of this from records recounting the events of the Cytherian Revolt. Chimene's speech had saved Mukhtar Kaseko from having to use his forces to crush the plotters; the Cytherians themselves had been roused to fight against them. Her mother Chimene's role in the rebellion made up a little for some of her more questionable deeds.

“Kaseko Wugabe was feared on Earth,” Hoa said. “I used to wonder why
a former Guardian Commander had chosen such a peaceful settlement of that crisis. It always
seemed—” She gestured at Benzi with one slender arm. “When I came here, I began to
think that you Habitat-dwellers had more to do with the agreement between Earth and Venus than
seemed obvious. I wondered if Mukhtar Kaseko had agreed to go back to Earth only to plot ways to
regain control.” She gazed at Benzi silently for a moment. “I think we're all
safer with him in retirement.”

“I hope you're right,” Paul said, “but if you'd lived here longer, you might understand why we get worried. Changes on the Council of Mukhtars often resulted in more problems for us and more uncertainty for the Island Administrators who have to deal with them.”

Risa turned toward her brother. “I don't suppose,” she murmured, “that you heard any gossip about who might replace Mukhtar Kaseko while you were on Earth.”

“No.” Benzi sipped his tea, looking unconcerned. Mahala suspected that her great-uncle would look the same way even if disaster loomed. She supposed that he cared about her grandmother and her household, or he would not have bothered to come here, but she had never been able to tell how deep his feelings ran.

When they finished their meal, Mahala helped Risa and Kristof clear the dishes, then returned to the common room. Benzi was already saying good night to the others. He was making excuses about being tired from his trip, having barely had time to rest up after returning to Venus from Earth. Mahala was doubtful. Habbers, with their youthful and rejuvenated bodies, did not seem the type to get weary after long journeys. Perhaps Benzi only wanted to be alone in order to commune with other Habbers through his Link.

He caught Mahala's eye and smiled; his eyes seemed warmer. Maybe she should speak to him now, before she changed her mind.

“Benzi? I have to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Could I ask you in your room?”

“Of course.”

Risa had put him in the room across from Mahala's; she followed him to the end of the corridor. Benzi pressed the door open and ushered her inside. There were still two empty rooms in Risa's end of the house, but this one had always been small, and the bed took up most of the space. She perched on the bed as Benzi sat down and leaned back against the wall. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

“About my grandfather—my grandfather Malik.” She paused. “I know you can call other Habbers with your Link. Can you talk to him?”

“Yes, I can. It would take a little while—one doesn't interrupt someone's thoughts abruptly through the channels. If I wanted to speak to Malik, I would send him a message first, then wait for him to receive it and respond.”

“Could you do that right now?”

“Certainly, if I needed to communicate with him.”

“Then would you? Give him a message from me, I mean. I just want to know if he ever thinks about us, if he might come back sometime.”

“I can't,” the Habber replied.

“But why—”

“I can't because I already know that he won't respond to my message.”