Child of Venus (17 page)

“Chisels and blades and clay. Some carvings I made. I gave away a lot of them, but my father said he wasn't going to drag the rest to Hypatia.” He took the bag back. “My duffel's lighter—take that.”

She carried the duffel toward the main road. A passenger cart was rolling along the wide flat road toward the north dome; they climbed aboard and sat down in adjoining seats in the back. Solveig was soon talking about the move to Hypatia. Their parents would leave for that settlement tomorrow, after a last round of farewells. Thorunn's brother Ingmar and his family were staying in Oberg, but Einar, after learning that there was a shortage of maintenance workers in

Hypatia, had decided to move. Thorunn had already been assigned to Hypatia's new chemistry laboratory.

“We'll have to live in a tent for a while,” Solveig said, “until we get the house up.” The wisps of blond hair over her forehead fluttered in the light breeze created by the open cart's motion. “They've only got four teachers in the whole settlement so far, but there should be twice that many in a year or so, and anyway, there aren't that many kids in Hypatia yet. Besides, with the screen lessons, we'll keep up with the work.”

“Aren't you going to miss Oberg?” Mahala asked.

“I suppose.” Solveig grinned. “But I'll like Hypatia, I know I will. I just wish you were living there, too.”

The cart stopped to let off two passengers near houses where a small flock of sheep were grazing in a fenced-in enclosure. The sheep were a new altered breed that was becoming more popular in the settlements. They were about half the size of their merino ancestors, so needed less grazing land, but their fine silky wool grew so rapidly that they had to be shorn every forty days. The light but durable fabric of Mahala's blue shirt had been woven from the wool; Dyami had traded some of his credit to a refinery worker who sewed garments from the cloth and sold them during her time off.

“It's beautiful,” Frania murmured from the seat behind them.

Mahala turned her head. Frania was holding a wooden carving of a cat.

“This one's better,” Ragnar said as he reached into his bag. Frania smiled as he thrust another carved cat at her. “You can keep them if you want.”

Frania's smiled widened. “Thank you, Ragnar.”

Mahala turned back to Solveig, wondering why she felt so annoyed.

Solveig would sleep in the room Mahala and Frania shared, while Ragnar would use Amina's former room. Mahala assured him that Dyami often slept in the large common room anyway and that Amina would not mind giving up her room for a few days. They would soon have more space; Dyami had already started putting up walls for a third room in the corner next to Amina's.

Dyami and Amina would not be home until last light. Mahala led her friends down to the lake after they had eaten. “Some of the kids in Oberg had a protest a few days ago,” Solveig said as they climbed over the rocks. “They went over to the Habber residence in the main dome with a sign that said ‘We didn't sign up for this Project.' Your grandmother was furious—she was coming out of the Administrative Center when she saw them.”

“Really?” Mahala was surprised. “Risa didn't tell me anything about that.”

“It only happened a couple of days ago, just before we left. They all got notations in their records, and Risa said she'd call for a hearing if any of them did it again.”

“For a protest?” Mahala shook her head. “Here, they would have just had a warning. The only ones who got black marks were these kids who protested in front of our school, and that's because they'd all been warned before.”

“Turing's different. Everybody knows your Council is— well, easier on people. But if these protests start spreading to other settlements, all the settlement Councils will have to act.”

“I wonder why they bother,” Mahala said. “Protests won't do any good.”

“How do you know?” Ragnar called out. He and Frania were just above on the slope, sitting together on a large flat rock; Frania had hardly left his side since his arrival. “How do you know it won't do any good?”

“You can't even tell what they really want,” Mahala replied.

“Sure you can. They want to be able to leave the domes and live on the surface someday. They want to decide for themselves whether to stay here or not. The Habbers might be able to help with all of that. What's so hard to understand?”

“Protests won't make it happen.”

“At least they're saying something about what they want instead of just putting up with everything the way it is.”

“You sound like you want to do the same thing, Ragnar.”

“Maybe I would.”

“You're an idiot.”

Ragnar shrugged. Frania murmured something to him. The boy seemed more interested in talking to her anyway.

“Come on,” Mahala said to Solveig. “Let's walk over to the docks.”

Frania's futon was empty when Mahala awoke. She went into the common room to find Dyami and Ragnar doing sketches on their screens while Frania watched. By the time Solveig was up, and Dyami and Amina had left for the refinery, Ragnar was sketching the brown-haired girl.

“You'd better eat,” Mahala told them. “We're supposed to go over to the community greenhouses to help out.”

“We ate our breakfast before,” Ragnar said. “We'll be ready.”

“Some of our schoolmates will be there,” Mahala went on. “You'll get a chance to meet them.” Ragnar did not respond. “It'll be more fun tomorrow when we clear the woods. It's just breaking up the bigger branches and dragging the dead-wood to the road so it can get loaded into a cart, and we won't have to do that all the time—they'll let us wander around and take breaks.”

Ragnar gazed at his screen. At last Mahala led Solveig to the kitchen.

On their way to the community greenhouses later, Mahala heard Ragnar promise Frania that he would make a carving of her before he left At the greenhouse, they put on their face masks and rebreathers to protect them against the carbon dioxide enriched air in which the gardens thrived before they were put to work weeding some of the tiers of hydroponic vegetables. Ragnar, with Frania at his side, was soon fooling around with the other children, making honking sounds at them through his mask. By the time they were packing broccoli and miniature heads of lettuce and other produce, Ragnar was going out of his way to help Frania load her small crates.

At home, after supper, Frania seemed content to sit with the boy and Dyami while Mahala played screen games with Solveig. Somehow, this visit was not going as she had expected. She had supposed that Ragnar would spend a lot of his free time learning what he could from Dyami; that was obviously one of the reasons for his visit. She had thought her main problem might be having a chance to talk to Solveig alone without Frania tagging along.

The next day, when they were clearing deadwood, it was Frania who guided the boy along the paths through the forested land. The day after that, Ragnar and Frania disappeared for nearly the whole day, returning just before last light. The next morning, they had vanished again.

“Ragnar likes Frani,” Solveig said to Mahala as they followed the creek away from Dyami's house.

“I guess so.” Mahala did not want to talk about Ragnar and Frania. Solveig would be here for only three more days, and Mahala had promised to show her around the south dome. There would be more tasks for them tomorrow; the settlements did not want the children to get used to too much idleness during their break.

“What's bothering you?” Solveig asked.

“Nothing.”

“Well, you haven't been acting like yourself.”

“I'm sorry, Solveig.”

“Is it Frani? Haven't you two been getting along?”

“Actually, we have. The only thing that's been bothering me is that it's almost impossible to do anything by myself— I mean, she's always there, tagging along.” She followed Solveig across a small footbridge. “With Ragnar around, I guess I don't have to worry about that.”

“He may like Frani, but he wanted to see you again.”

“What?” Mahala slowed her steps. “Did he actually say that?”

Solveig smiled. “Of course not. He'd never admit it, but I can tell.”

Ahead, in the hollow, stood the long rectangular building that was Turing's Administrative Center. Above it, on the gentle slope of a hill, was the round glassy dome of the Habber residence. Houses lined the white stone paths that wound up the hills and through copses of trees; Dyami's monument and the memorial pillar next to it were visible near the tunnel that led to the south dome.

A woman with long reddish hair and clothed in a long green tunic and pants was leaving the Habber residence. Mahala, recognizing her, waved; the woman lifted a hand.

“What's her name?” Solveig asked.

“Tesia.” Mahala had not known the Habber woman was back in Turing. She had come to Dyami's house with Balin four months ago, to say that she was going to one of the Islands for a while, but might leave Venus for good after that. Maybe Tesia had changed her mind.

A small group of children clustered around the monument. Most of them seemed older, but Mahala spotted Rag-nar's blond head among them, and then the small, slight form of Frania. She gritted her teeth, suddenly annoyed with them both.

“Looks like Ragnar's found some more friends,” Solveig said.

Before Mahala could respond, two of the boys were moving away from the monument, unrolling a banner between them. The other children sat down.

“A protest,” Mahala whispered. Tesia froze along the sloping path; more Habbers had come outside their residence, Balin among them. Tesia was motionless, her arm still raised; Balin hurried toward her. A cart carrying two men and crates of supplies rolled out of the tunnel, slowing as it neared the monument.

Mahala moved toward the protesters, then broke into a run. She could read what the banner said now.

YOUR LIVES ARE LONG, OURS ARE SHORT

YOU CAN WAIT

WE CANNOT

The cart rolled to a halt as the men jumped out. “Damned kids!” one of them shouted; he was a big, brown-skinned man, moving swiftly in spite of his bulk. Mahala slowed down as Solveig caught up to her. A passenger cart was leaving the tunnel with seven people aboard; the protesters would have even more of an audience.

The big man ripped the banner from the hands of the boys holding it. “What do you think you're doing?” he called out as his companion grabbed at another boy.

“Stop!” A Habber Mahala did not know, a muscular, golden-skinned man, was hastening toward the demonstration. “Let them go—they're only children.”

The children were already scattering. “You'll get marked for this,” the smaller man shouted after them. “Don't think you won't. You there, Josef—I'll pay a call on your parents later and tell them what you did. Hama, don't think you'll get off easy.”

“It's all right,” the Habber said. “We won't make a complaint.”

“Maybe it's time you did,” the big man replied. “I'm going to make one. Disturbing the peace—that's good for a start Desecrating the space around our monuments with that sign.”

Balin had his arms around Tesia; the other Habbers had come down the hill to her. Ragnar and Frank were walking away, trailing the other children.

Mahala went after the pair, Solveig just behind her. “Why did you do it?” Mahala asked, grabbing at Ragnar; he shook off her hand. “Why? Did you have to do it right next to Dyami's monument? How do you think he's going to feel about that?”

Ragnar kept walking, then abruptly halted; she nearly bumped into him. “It had to be done, Mahala.” His blue-gray eyes were cold.

“You're not even sorry.” She turned to Frania. “And you— how did you get dragged into this?”

Tears spilled from Frania's eyes. “I asked her to come with me,” Ragnar replied.

Mahala glared at him. “I guessed that. She wouldn't have dared do it by herself.”

“Frani pointed out some of the kids who'd done this stuff before. We went to them and said we agreed with what they were doing. They told us we'd have to prove it, and so I came up with the idea of protesting here and said we'd come along. Trouble is, we should have waited until the end of this shift—more people would have been coming home then. More people would have seen us.”

“Idiot,” Solveig muttered. “You're going to get it.”

“After all my uncle's done for you,” Mahala said, “you go and do this. I hope he throws you out of his house and never speaks to you again.”

Ragnar spun around and walked away. Frania was crying now, covering her face with trembling hands. “I didn't want to do it,” she sobbed.

Mahala wanted to strike her. “Then why did you?”

“Ragnar must have pushed her into this.” Solveig draped an arm over the small brown-haired girl. “Come on, Frani— let's forget about it for now.”

Mahala said, “There's going to be a lot of trouble over this.”

“I know,” Solveig said.

Dyami had heard about the incident from Balin on his way home. He was silent, his face pale, as Frania admitted to her aunt that she had introduced Ragnar to the troublemakers. She was accepting her share of responsibility, not trying to blame most of her actions on Ragnar.

“And you, Ragnar?” Amina asked.

“I'm sorry,” the boy said, not sounding as though he meant it.

“I can understand pranks, but this—”

“I'm not sorry about that.” Ragnar lifted his head. “I shouldn't have done it here, maybe, because I'm just a guest in Turing. It'd be different in my own settlement.”

“I see,” Dyami murmured.

“I guess you don't want to give me lessons anymore,” Ragnar said.

Dyami shook his head. “No, Ragnar—I won't punish you that way. But if there's a hearing here and the others get a reprimand, you'll have to share their punishment. Maybe that doesn't seem like much to you now, but a bad record will affect how you're treated later. Some people won't trust you as much. You might not get as many chances for certain types of training or study. That would be a pity for someone with your talents.”