Child of Venus (50 page)

The Habbers had tested prototypes of the matter-antimatter drive and the vacuum drive in earlier interstellar probes. Now they had an overpowering reason to go into space and the opportunity to share that great adventure with the rest of their species. But the psychological barrier of knowing that the break with those they left would be final would, Mahala was sure, be much more difficult for all of the potential spacefarers to breach.

The Habbers had seen that a community of spacefarers, a Habitat of many voyagers, was one way of overcoming some of the worst psychological displacement. Any returning space travelers would still have to deal with a solar system that might seem completely alien to them, perhaps as alien as anything they discovered, but they would be facing that with thousands of companions like themselves. Habbers who had worried about their estrangement from the rest of humankind would be living among Earthfolk and Cytheri-ans, in an environment that would foster strong bonds and deeper connections. They would, all of them, preserve their branch of humankind, even if the descendants of those they left behind became something else.

In the two years since Frania's death, three more faces had been added to Sagan's memorial pillar. Mahala stopped for a moment to gaze at the faces, remembering how her grandmother had occasionally asked her to go to the monuments in Oberg with flowers to lay at the foot of each memorial pillar.

Chike and Orban were silent as they stood with her. The narrow, pointed face of Stephan AnnasLeonards, her schoolmate on Anwara and on Island Two, was represented on the pillar; he had been killed by an unsecured gantry in the airship bay during a recent quake. Next to Stephan's visage was a holograph of Guillermo Sechen, who had come here toward the end of his life to say his farewells to his grandson Tomas and who had died here; Guillermo had been a century and two decades old, his heart giving out, and he had refused to waste the Project's medical resources on growing him a new one. The third face among the memorialized dead was that of Katy Philippa, whom Mahala had barely known. Katy had been in her forties, a trained geologist with a degree from the Cytherian Institute; her bond with her bond-mate had lapsed, her only child was an adult, and she had come to Sagan less than a year ago, looking forward to a new life. She had died on the northern Bat, in an explosion that had taken ten other lives, while visiting her son and his new bondmate on the satellite, but it had seemed appropriate to memorialize her here. At the top, above the others, was the bronze face of Frania Astarte Milus, sculpted by her bond-mate.

Ragnar had never spoken to Mahala of Frani since her death. When Mahala, growing concerned that his silence might be a sign of deep depression, had mentioned Frania's. name, hoping to nudge him into talking about his loss, he had warded her off with an upraised hand and a quick shake of his head. Since then, he had put in his shifts at External Operations and passed most of his free time making small carvings and sculptures for some of the Habbers, who seemed to be encouraging him in that pursuit. Mahala had been surprised to find out from one Habber that Ragnar refused any payment for the objects he made, asking only to listen to tales of life in the Habitats and of the progress they and their colleagues from Earth were making on their plans for the interstellar expedition.

Frania's death had come just as the surface of Venus had yielded a new form of life; the two events would always be associated in Mahala's mind. More of the patches of moss on the rocks outside the domes of Sagan were sprouting grassy blades and tendrils that looked like filaments, and the same was happening outside other settlements. Only two months ago, a scan of part of the ocean to the south of Ishtar Terra had revealed the presence of a microscopic life form that resembled a virus.

People now spoke, mostly in jest but with a kind of wonder as well, about the garden of Venus. But the unexpected appearance of these particular life forms had also raised a more disturbing possibility, what if Venus, once life was possible, developed life forms that were incompatible, perhaps even deadly, to the species that had transformed the planet? What Mahala had imagined years ago, that people might eventually have to remake themselves in order to live unprotected on the surface of Venus, seemed a more plausible, if still very distant, possibility.

Chike moved closer to Mahala and took her hand, then bowed his head as though paying his respects. Orban made a sound in his throat; Mahala glanced at the Habber, noting the unease in his handsome olive-skinned face. The Habbers in Sagan usually avoided the memorial pillar, and often she had seen Habbers look away whenever they passed it. They had come to none of the ceremonies to honor the dead, when a sculpture or holo image was placed on the pillar and those who had known them told stories of the deceased. She wondered what Habbers did to mourn their dead. Perhaps their experience with death was so infrequent or so feared that they did not know how to mourn.

A lone figure came through the open entrance of the bay: Malik. A small dark-haired woman whom Mahala had never seen before was with him. Malik had been on Island Two for nearly a year now, apparently summoned there by his kinsman, Administrator Masud al-Tikriti. He had sent only three messages to her in that time, all of them brief and telling her little more than that he was thinking of her and that he and Administrator Masud, with the help of a few other Linkers, were organizing some of the Venus Project's historical records. She had not believed for a moment that work on those records was the only matter that had brought him back to the Islands.

Now suddenly he was here, after informing her only two days ago that he and another Habber would be arriving in Sagan.

“I don't know anything about the Habber woman who came here with my grandfather Malik,” she murmured to Orban as they walked toward the bay entrance. “He didn't even mention her name. Perhaps you can tell me something about her.”

“Her name is Te-yu,” Orban replied. The name sounded vaguely familiar.
“She was known as Hong Te-yu when she was a pilot for the Project, on your Islands. She was
among those who fled to the Habitats with your kinsman Benzi.”

Mahala nodded, recalling that Benzi had mentioned the name a few times in passing. “When did she come back here?”

“Only a few days ago. She had been on Anwara for ten days before then.” Orban had the slightly blank look in his eyes that told her that he was listening to his Link. “She will be traveling with Malik to...” Orban gave her and Chike his impersonal smile. “But he will be speaking to you of that very soon.”

Mahala was suddenly annoyed with Orban. Even after two years of living in fairly close contact with Habbers and coming to consider Orban and several of the others as friends, they could still at times seem unnecessarily opaque.

“If you already know why Malik's here,” Chike said, “and what he's going to say, seems to me that you could have told us yourself and saved him the trouble of this trip.”

“That might have been appropriate under other circumstances,” Orban said, “but Malik wished to come here himself, and there are other reasons for him to consult with you in person.” His smile broadened and his mouth twitched slightly, as if he had said something amusing.

Malik looked much as he always had, with a touch of silver in his black hair at the temples and a handsome, unlined face; even the expression in his eyes seemed more open and youthful. He carried a small satchel and wore a long white robe that resembled the formal robe of an Administrator.

“Greetings, Malik,” Mahala said, taking his free hand between her palms.

“Salaam.” Her grandfather bowed slightly as she introduced Chike to him. Te-yu introduced herself in a light, musical voice; she was an attractive woman with large brown eyes and short black hair who looked youthful, even though she had to be well over a century old.

“If you like,” Mahala said, “I'll show you where you'll be staying. We've got more residences up now, and there are a few empty rooms in the newest one. If you're tired, you can rest there.”

“We're not tired,” Malik said.

“We can ride there in a cart,” Chike said, gesturing at one vehicle near the bay entrance, where two men were loading crates.

“We'd rather walk,” Malik said. “We'd like to meet with you and the other Councilors here as soon as possible, in a few hours if you can arrange it.”

“I think we can,” Mahala said. “Eugenio has a shift after last light over at external operations, but we can find somebody to substitute for him.”

“Do it, then,” Malik said. There was a nervousness about him that she had not seen before, a sound of impatience in his voice. “This is very important, and the matter came up rather suddenly. It was felt that my presence was needed here, as well as Te-yu's, since we've been involved in plans for this meeting almost from the start. And I must admit that I also wanted to see you again and see the kind of life you have made for yourself here.”

“I'm content,” Mahala said, and it was true. Being a physician gave her a purpose; living among Habbers and freely associating with them had been both an intellectual and an emotional education, opening her mind and tempering her impatience.

They had reached the memorial pillar and the Administrative Center; Mahala gestured at the building. “That's where we usually hold our Council meetings,” she continued.

“Then we'll speak to you there,” Malik said.

“You may speak to anyone who is interested,” Mahala said. “Anybody who wants to view the meeting over the screen or come in person is welcome to do so. We've never held any of our meetings in private. That seems only fair, given that Orban is also a Councilor and any other Habber is able to Link with him during meetings.” That had been one of the first decisions made by the Sagan Council, to request that the Habbers here elect one among themselves as a Councilor.

“Very well,” Malik said. “We'll speak to you at an open meeting. The subject is a most important upcoming conference, and either your Council, or all of the people here, will have to decide who will represent you there.”

“A conference?” Chike asked.

“A conference to lay down the basis for what kinds of agreements we may need between Earth, Venus, and the Associated Habitats and to begin the process of choosing those who wish to become spacefarers. Those present at the conference will include Habbers, Cytherians, Administrators, and, it is said, Mukhtar Tabib al-Tahir himself. I'll explain everything in more detail later—many of the arrangements are still being worked out.”

“And where is this conference to be?” Mahala asked.

“On Earth,” Malik replied.

Mahala halted. Chike and Orban slowed and came to a stop as Malik and Te-yu turned toward them. “On Earth?” Chike repeated.

“In a town on the North American Plains, as a matter of fact,” Malik said. “The Mukhtars feel that it would be best to hold such a conference in a more remote and out-of-the-way location, one that has only a small population and attracts few visitors. Although most of the Nomarchies seem content, or at least resigned to the new era, they would prefer a site where participants can be more easily protected and that isn't likely to draw demonstrations of the discontented.” He paused. “The meeting is going to be held where Benzi has been staying, in Lincoln.”

 

23

Mahala woke up. For a moment, she did not know where she was, then remembered.

She lay on a small, narrow bed in a bare room. She sat up slowly and looked toward the round window on her right. Outside the window was the unfamiliar sight of a patch of blue sky. She was on Earth, aboard a floater, a vehicle almost indistinguishable from a Cytherian airship, bound for Lincoln.

Traveling to the Islands and then by shuttle to Anwara had caused her little distress. The torchship provided to her and the other Cytherians for the trip from Anwara to Earth, the
Melville
, had small but comfortable cabins for the passengers, along with both a recreation room and a dining area; she had shared her cabin with her old friend Ah Lin Bergen, one of the delegates from the Maxwell Mountains settlements who had been chosen to attend the conference. Even the Wheel, the largest of the space stations in Earth orbit, where the
Melville
had docked and the Earthbound passengers had been transferred to a shuttlecraft, had not been unduly disorienting; despite its immense size, the inside corridors of the Wheel seemed much like those of Anwara.

It had been after leaving the shuttle at the San Antonio port in North America that she had suddenly felt the beginnings of panic, a tightness in her throat, a racing heartbeat, a constriction in her lungs that made her feel that she might suffocate. The air in the wide walkway leading into the port felt too cold; throngs of people filled the corridors of the port. Low but audible disembodied voices called out gate numbers, times of arrival and departure of shuttle and sub-orbital flights, and the names of destinations in Anglaic, Arabic, and occasionally in other languages she did not know. She kept near the others in her group, picking up the aromas of flowers, coffee, onions, and other scents she could not identify as they moved through the port. Just one of the port's long corridors, she realized, probably held as many people as did Turing; the number of people hurrying to the various gates might exceed the entire population of Venus. She had steadied herself by keeping her eyes on the floor, staying near Malik and the others traveling with her.

The sub-orbital flight to Winnipeg had taken less than an hour, and by the time she had boarded the sub-orb, she felt calmer. The small implant in her upper right arm dispensed only a minimal dose of a mild tranquihzer; she had convinced herself that she would need no more than that. It was not until she was in the Winnipeg port, walking toward the gate that would lead her outside to the airship cradles, that the fear had nearly immobilized her. Nothing in any of the mind-tours of Earth that she had sampled could possibly have prepared her for this experience. There would be no protective dome outside, only wind and air and open sky.