Venus of Dreams (11 page)

Chen had been surprised when he learned that some people from other Nomarchies had chosen to work in space, had even waited months or years for the chance. Gradually, he came to understand them. Earth was a bounded world, while space was limitless. Even on an old space station, one might dream of escape—to a newer station, or to an asteroid mining operation, or even, if one was daring and had no gratitude to the Nomarchies, to one of the Habitats. The platform workers rarely spoke about the Habs; such talk could make trouble. The Mukhtars might deal with Habbers, but they did so only in the interest of Earth and not because they approved of Hab ways. Yet stories of the Habs, where everyone could have a Link and no Mukhtars ruled, had reached even the space stations around Earth.

Chen had been afraid of coming to Venus. The danger had not frightened him; the orbiting platform had offered enough threats of its own. Death was not even the most dreaded consequence of work in Earth orbit. An injury could send a worker back to Earth; a serious disability might sentence a person to life on the basic allotment, without the credit for the extra medical treatment that could repair a broken body. Venus, he knew, would not be any more dangerous. The Nomarchies had invested heavily in the Project and had to protect the scientists and specialists; the workers benefited from that.

Chen had feared joining the Project because he had been afraid of the hope it might awaken in him. He had been grateful for what he had; wanting more could only bring pain. He had been happy with what the Nomarchies had given him; he had forced himself to be.

Now, he welcomed his hopes. The true reward of working on the Project was not the extra credit, or even the frequent rest periods that gave him time to do his carvings; it was knowing that he would be part of a new world. It said so in his agreement with the Project, which had been read to him before he consented to it; the first settlers would be chosen from those who had labored for the Project, who had already proven their devotion to its ideals. Earth always abided by its agreements, even those with the Habs. Earth had to keep to its promises; all knew what had happened in the past when people had not kept them.

He might live to see domed settlements on the surface; he might even be one of the settlers. Later, in the centuries to come, even the Islands would drop slowly toward the fertile soil below, and humanity's arks would settle on the surface of a world rescued from sterility. Those who had labored on the Project would become the ancestors of people freed from Earth's history. All of these thoughts were formless and vague in Chen's mind, but the image of free people standing on a green, new world was sharp and clear.

Chen frowned. He would have to overcome his fear of the dark planet below before he could become a settler. He steadied himself, certain that he would find his courage when he needed it.

Fei-lin poked him in the ribs. "Look happier. Tonie's probably waiting for you right now. Better become bondmates soon, before she flies away."

"Tonie can fly my way any time," Olaf said as he leaned across the aisle; his companion Catherine jabbed him with an elbow. On the screen, the lighted dome of Island Two swam toward them.

The airship had landed in its cradle, which drew it through the lock and then into the bay, where it sat among a row of cradled dirigibles. The workers scrambled down the ramp at the cradle's side, making their way toward the entrance to the Island; Chen and Fei-lin were the last to enter. The door slid shut behind them as workers hurried off along white-tiled paths.

The two men were standing in a garden. Among the blossoming flowers and small green shrubs, slender trees stood with outstretched limbs capturing the light of the dome. A woman was leaning against one of the trees; she was tiny and slim and wore the gray shirt and pants of a worker.

Chen hurried toward her. She smiled with her delicate mouth, showing small, white teeth, and took his hand. Fei-lin was right; Chen would have to ask Tonie for a promise soon, but he had never found the words to ask her to share her life with him. He spoke of his love with his hands, cupping her breasts with his long fingers or caressing the silky skin of her thighs.

"Tonie," he said. "I wasn't sure you'd be back yet."

"I've been back for almost a week. We'll have two weeks together, maybe more. I asked if I could be assigned to your work crew next time, but you know the Committee." She shrugged. She had meant the Workers' Committee, which in its zeal to keep from offending any Administrators, often seemed more of an obstacle than an aid to the workers it was supposed to represent.

If he and Tonie became bondmates, the Administrators would do their best to keep them together. Formal bonds were encouraged here; the children of bondmates were the representatives of the future the Project was trying to build.

A tall, thin man was walking toward them, his face a replica of the wooden one inside Chen's pocket. Fei-lin's dark eyes narrowed; Tonie moved closer to Chen. Her fingers were cold as they brushed against his palm.

"Greetings, Ibrahim," Chen said.

"Hello, Chen," the man replied. He, like the other three, was also wearing a gray shirt and pants, but the cluster of silver circles on his collar showed that he was not a worker. Ibrahim was a Habber; though no jewel glittered on his forehead, he had his own Link. Habbers wore no outward signs of their status, a habit that made others uneasy; Habbers might not care about such distinctions, but Earthfolk did. Without a jewel on one's forehead, a stranger might not even know that one was a Linker; it seemed an affront for a Habber not to have one. The Administrators on the Project had insisted on the pins of silver circles to mark Habbers as such.

"Uh, I think you already know Wu Fei-lin." Chen gestured at his friend. "And Tonie Wong." Fei-lin was biting his lip and looked ill at ease; the small woman plucked nervously at her short black hair.

"Indeed." Ibrahim nodded to them; Tonie took a step back and stared at her feet.

"I finished it." Chen took the carving out of his pocket; Ibrahim grasped it and held it up.

"Nice seeing you," Fei-lin said abruptly; it seemed that his usual clever speech had deserted him. "Have to go." He adjusted his duffel and hurried off, casting one fearful glance back at Chen before disappearing around a bend in the path.

"It's quite lovely," Ibrahim murmured as he gazed at the carving. "I'll treasure it." He tucked the carving into one of his large shirt pockets. "I must give you more for such a piece."

"You paid me already," Chen replied.

"Really, it wasn't enough."

"A meal, then," Chen said. "You can buy us both something to eat."

"I'm afraid I can't join you," Tonie said; her clear, musical voice sounded strained. Her eyes met Chen's. "I promised Dorcas I'd meet her in the gym." Her oddly intent gaze told him she was lying. "I'll drop your bag off on the way, if you like." She grabbed at his duffel, shouldered it awkwardly, then kissed him quickly before she strode away.

Ibrahim rubbed his chin. "I may be doing you no favor by dining with you in public."

"It doesn't matter," Chen replied. "You're paying me for some work, that's all."

"Things have changed since you left for the Bat. Your people have been avoiding us even more than usual."

The two men walked along the path, leaving the garden and passing a low, glassy structure that housed a hydroponic food plant. The Islands produced much of their food, importing as little as possible from Earth.

Ibrahim seemed lost in musing, as Habbers often did. Chen thought of what the man had said. It wasn't wise to be seen too often with Habbers; their help might be needed occasionally, but one did not have to associate with them socially. Chen knew all of that, but he had never been able to share the feelings of others about the Habbers. Ibrahim, like his fellows, was invariably courteous and kind in an abstracted way; the stronger human emotions did not seem to trouble him. Others might resent such serenity, but Chen welcomed it. Ibrahim did not even mind his lack of graceful and fluent speech, and often anticipated what he might say, thus relieving Chen of the necessity to say it.

The two men came to a small pool, around which tables and chairs had been placed. Five Linkers sat at one table; one of the women stared coldly at Ibrahim before turning back to her companions.

Chen touched the Habber's arm, leading him away from the pool and along the path to another group of tables near a trellis of vines; Habbers never understood that it was not suitable for someone like Chen to sit in a spot frequented by Linkers. As they sat down, a servo rolled toward them; the squat robot stopped at their side, awaiting their order. Chen looked around, relieved that no one else was present.

"What would you like?" Ibrahim asked. "Some new imports arrived recently. We could have some pate, if you wish."

"Anything's fine." Chen rarely spent his credit on imports, usually contenting himself with the workers' simple but adequate rations, and had no idea of what to choose.

"Let's try the lobster, then. Our substitutes really don't taste the same. Really, the Project ought to set up a tank and breed its own. It wouldn't be difficult." His brown eyes widened a bit as he gave the order silently through his Link.

Sometimes Chen wondered why the Habbers were interested in the Project. He knew that they found it odd that people should terraform a world when one could be built inside an asteroid, or from scratch, with less trouble, but Earth's reasons for the Project were involved and Chen had never troubled himself with them. He had his own dream, and the Habbers would help him and others realize that dream; he felt he owed them some consideration for that.

The Habbers had lent Earth their resources. They had brought in the hydrogen from Saturn, a fact Chen had not known before coming to the Islands. Habber robots had built the three vast installations on the Cytherian surface. Chen had seen images of those dark, looming pyramids, each so large that a million people might have been housed inside one. At some future time, the engines inside the pyramids would release their power, and Venus, which now turned from east to west only once every one hundred and twenty days, would begin to rotate more rapidly; Chen already looked forward to that great event, and the surface settlements that would follow.

The people of the Habitats had made that possible, and they seemed to want nothing in return for their efforts except whatever new knowledge their techniques might yield. But it was hard to guess what motivated such people, who at times seemed almost like another species. Chen drew his brows together at that thought, recalling stories he had heard about the Habbers' biological techniques. Some claimed that they had gone beyond the normal types of genetic engineering, which on Earth were limited to correcting flaws, and had even altered their own hormonal systems. Catherine, Chen's fellow worker, had claimed that Habbers could no longer breed with other people in the usual way, although Chen was sure that wasn't true.

Ibrahim made a steeple with his hands; his eyes gazed placidly past Chen. It was not necessary to distract the Habber with talk; he always had the company of his Link.

"I'll have time to do a little more carving now," Chen said, breaking the silence. "I can use the credit."

"You'd do it whether or not you were paid," Ibrahim said. "It's a pity you can't devote all of your time to it, maybe get some artistic training."

Chen shrugged. "They don't need carvers here. Can't use art on the Islands." It felt strange to call his hobby art, as Ibrahim did.

"Because beauty isn't useful doesn't mean that it's not needed," Ibrahim replied. "At any rate, I'm sure many more of your people would appreciate your work."

"I thought some of your friends might."

"That might not be wise." Ibrahim leaned forward as the servo returned with plates holding chunks of lobster, a bowl of fruit, and a small bottle of wine. "You've been kind to me, Chen, but I don't think you should seek out my company again, or that of other Habbers, unless we have to work together." He speared a piece of lobster with his fork. "I wouldn't want to endanger you."

Chen frowned. He could tolerate disapproval, even a reprimand; what other danger could there be?

The corridors of the building in which Chen lived were filled with the hum of voices. The workers kept their doors propped open during much of the day. People were squatting or sitting on their heels in groups near the walls; a few children passed Chen on skates, weaving their way expertly past the men and women sharing beer or gossiping in the open doorways. The door frames bore pictures of their rooms' occupants; some were holo portraits, while a few were carvings Chen had made for friends.

He greeted five men who were kneeling near one door as they gambled with small sticks and dice, then stopped in front of his own door, where his own carved face nestled next to Tonie's. His was a broad face with full lips and a slightly receding chin above a muscular neck; Tonie had never liked the carving, insisting that Chen was handsomer.

He palmed the door open and entered; the door slid shut behind him. Tonie was wearing her band as she idled away a few moments in a game scenario; she took off the circlet and turned toward him.

"I hope you won't see that Habbit any more," she said.

"I won't. Anyway, he doesn't think we should."

"Well, at least one of you's showing some sense."

He sat down on his bed, resenting her tone. Their room was small, though the two beds could be pushed into the wall to make more space. Drawers inside the walls held their few clothes and other possessions. On their one shelf, a small carving of Tonie was the only ornament; the figure was naked, one arm crossed modestly over the chest. He and Tonie had waited months to move from the quarters they had each shared with other workers to this room. He wondered how long they would have to wait before having children; the Islands could support only so many.

"It just isn't smart," Tonie continued as she took off her shirt. "Habbits give people funny ideas—that's what Catherine says. I don't know why they stay on, anyway. We could get along without them now."