Venus of Shadows (29 page)

"The settlers will no longer require so much aid from your people, and it was never our wish that we grow too dependent on your help. Our agreement with you allows us the right to decide the course of the Project without consultation with you, while you are free to withdraw from here when you wish."

"We promised we would stay," she said, "as long as we were needed and our help was welcomed by your people."

"Then you are prepared, I trust, to begin withdrawing more of your people from the surface settlements. You may leave behind those who are still training some of the settlers in various operations, but within five years your numbers there should be reduced by half. It may ease some of the more distrustful settlers to see this demonstration of the fact that you have no designs on this world."

Her eyes widened. "You know that we don't. We came here —"

"— to help and observe," he finished, "and you have. We remain grateful and now grant many of your people the chance to return to their own home soon. Those of you working on the Islands are free to stay, although I know some of those who have been with us for a decade or two are planning to return to your Habitat. For the time being, you needn't replace them with others. With the pace of the Project slowing, at least temporarily, we won't need as many of your people here either."

Her right hand fluttered for a moment, and then her body was still. "I'm puzzled." She turned toward the screen. "I thought that you were to begin moving more industrial operations to the surface so that the settlers would no longer be so dependent on what's shipped to them from the outside. It's been part of your plan all along — setting up factories in new domes and training those needed to operate them. We've just about finished surveying the Freyja Mountains, and once we clear a site, we could —"

"I think it's best that we not proceed with that phase of the Project for now."

"Has Earth told you this?" she asked. "Have the Mukhtars decided not to proceed?"

"The Mukhtars haven't decided anything yet," he replied. "In the absence of any clear directive from Earth or from the Project Council that represents the Mukhtars on Anwara, we think it best to wait."

Tesia was silent. The moment he dreaded was approaching; he could not delay it any longer.

"Let me be honest with you," Sigurd went on, "as your people claim to be with us. Earth, at the moment, appears uncertain about the Project's future course, although I don't doubt that we shall continue with this glorious venture, God willing. You are not going to use this interim to try to further your own influence."

"I fail to see how helping your settlers to be more self-sufficient would further our influence. Once they have more industrial capacity, they'd have less need of us. Earth would also benefit in the end — they would no longer have the expense of supplying the settlers with things they can make for themselves." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "One might almost think that you fear making them too independent, that Earth is too uncertain of their loyalty to allow that for now."

"The settlers have some distrust of the Mukhtars. That will change. But many of them are also skeptical of your ultimate motives, and this doesn't seem to be the time to make them more dependent on you, as they would be during this phase of the Project."

"That dependence would be temporary," she said.

"But it would also present your people with another chance to drive a wedge between the settlers and Earth — that's how some will see it. Matters are too uncertain now for us to risk that. It would be best for your people and mine to keep more of a distance. This should present no problem for you — after all, you say you have no designs."

"I see." Her voice was very calm, her face composed.

"The geologists here have benefited from your contributions. I was told that your recent study and computer modeling of erosion patterns on Ishtar Terra proved most fruitful. But you've been with us for a few years now, and you must miss your home. You'd probably like to go back."

"I intended to stay, to see my study used to determine sites for domes in the Freyja range." Her voice was strained. "I would also miss my friends here."

"Acquaintances, Tesia, not friends." His chest was beginning to ache; he took a breath. "Surely you don't believe that your people and mine are anything more than two groups whose purposes happen to coincide at the moment. We may mimic its form for a while, but true friendship can never exist between, us."

She smoothed, back her reddish hair as she gazed steadily at him, "We can still observe," she said. "We can maintain at least some contact with your people, a connection we value so much. It remains our hope that friendship will eventually be possible." He wondered if these were her thoughts or only what her people now expected her to say. He had spoken as an Administrator; she would have to speak to him as a Habber.

He stood up. "God go with you," he murmured, signaling the end of the meeting. "Do let me know if and when you plan to leave us. There's much to occupy me now, and I doubt I'll have a chance to speak with you again, but you can always leave a message on my screen."

She rose and moved slowly toward the door. The other Administrators would be viewing her through his eyes. He wondered if any of them noticed the slight slump of her shoulders or the hesitancy of her steps in the images they saw. For an instant, he was afraid she might turn to gaze at him and break his resolve.

The door opened, then shut behind her. He closed his Link before any of his colleagues could comment on the meeting. He felt a sudden rage at the circumstances that would always separate him from Tesia, then pushed the feeling aside.

Thirteen

Malik found his daughter loitering outside the pilots' dormitory. A woman in the blue garb of a pilot was talking to Chimene; as Malik approached, the little girl looked down.

"Chimene," he muttered, trying to sound stern. "I thought you and your schoolmates were supposed to be visiting the airship bay today."

"I'm afraid I'm to blame," the pilot said. "I was showing the children one of the airships when we had to clear out suddenly — a ship had to land unexpectedly. We brought the children back inside, and their teacher said he'd take them home, but this one insisted on asking me more questions. I promised the teacher I'd walk her to the west tunnel later. Is she your daughter?"

"Yes, she is."

"Charming child." The pilot hooked her fingers around her red and black sash. "She told the teacher her parents wouldn't mind if she stayed behind for a bit, and I think he had his hands full with some of the crankier kids, so he made her promise that she'd give her schoolmates a report tomorrow on whatever else she learned from me. I hope you don't mind."

Chimene peered up at Malik guiltily, then lowered her long thick lashes. The child knew perfectly well that she should have stayed with the others, but he didn't want to scold her in front of the woman. "It's all right," he said. "I appreciate your taking the trouble to look after her."

"No trouble at all. I told her all about the ships, and I'm sure she’ll give a fine report. She's certainly inquisitive."

"Yes, she is." Malik took Chimene's hand. "Are you ready to go home now?" She nodded. "Thanks again."

The pilot entered the dormitory as Malik led the girl toward the greenhouse complex. "She told me all about the helium cells," Chimene said, "and how the valves work. That's why the other ship had to land all of a sudden — one of its valves was stuck, and Oberg was closer than where it was going."

"You know that you should have gone home with the others, Chimene. Risa's told you not to go wandering off without letting the household know where you are. Did you even think to go to a screen and send a message before you went off with that pilot?"

"No."

"I'm glad you're being honest about that. You were stretching the truth somewhat when you told Yoshi we wouldn't mind if he left you here. I thought you were old enough now to be trusted without a bracelet and tracer, but maybe I was wrong."

She squeezed his hand. "You can't make me wear one now! Everybody'd call me a baby." He slowed down so that she could keep up with him. "You won't tell Risa, will you?"

"I may have to tell her if she gets home before we do," Malik replied.

"Please!"

"Very well. I won't tell her if you promise me you'll let us know where you are."

"I promise."

He smiled a little; he could never stay angry at Chimene for very long. "I hope that pilot was just telling you about her work and not Ishtar." The group was capable of trying to interest even young children in the cult.

"No. She just talked about the airships. Why don't you and Risa like Ishtar?"

"It isn't that we don't like it. We simply have different beliefs. We feel that people should be able to practice any faith they choose without one group trying to tell them that their way is the only right one, that's all."

"But when you told me some of your prayers, you said —"

"I told you what my people believe about God and His Prophet and that they see this as the truth. But they also learned that this isn't something to be forced on others and that different beliefs should be respected. It took them a great many conflicts to find that out, and even now, some can forget. Look at our household — we have different beliefs, and we get along."

"Sometimes you don't," she replied.

"Malik?"

He turned his head to see who had called out to him. A woman was standing near the main road outside the nearest greenhouse. "Malik?" she said again. Her blond hair was shorter and her Russian cheekbones sharper, but her dark upturned eyes were the same. "Don't you remember me?"

"Katya!" He released his daughter's hand as Yekaterina hurried toward him, grabbed his shoulders, then kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"You haven't changed," she said. He hugged her; the body under her gray coverall seemed thinner.

A hand tugged at the hem of his brown shirt; he looked down as he let go of Yekaterina. "Chimene," he said, "this is Yekaterina Osipova. We met on Earth before I came here."

"Salaam," Chimene said solemnly.

"My daughter, Chimene Liang-Haddad."

"I could have guessed that," Yekaterina said. "She's as beautiful as I would expect your child to be."

Chimene beamed. She was, Malik knew, used to such compliments; Risa considered her a little too accustomed to them. His daughter brushed back her curly black hair, then smoothed down her dark green tunic, as if preening herself. "I'm five," Chimene announced. "I had a party for my birthday last week."

"Congratulations," Yekaterina said.

The rosy blush on Chimene's golden-skinned face deepened; her lashes fluttered over her large brown eyes. Malik grinned and ruffled her hair. "I teach at the school in our dome," he said. "Chimene's with another group and another teacher, but I tutor her when I can. Her teacher says she's doing very well."

Chimene drew herself up. "Sometimes I help my friends with their lessons."

"Then you must be very smart," Yekaterina responded.

Malik reached for the woman's hand. "When did you arrive?"

"I've been here since 598, in al-Khwarizmi."

"Three years? And you never sent me a message?"

Yekaterina lowered her head. "I thought of sending one. Then I learned of your bondmate and your new home, and I —" She shrugged. "I didn't know how much you wanted to be reminded of the camp."

"Nikolai Burian still refreshes my memory from time to time," he said. "He's a member of our household, he and the bondmate he found here." Her fingers slipped from his. "But what brings you to Oberg?"

"We were coming in from the Platform. The ship had to land here for repairs — Oberg's bay was closest. I was working on the southern Bat, but this was my last shift, and now I can tend more to my home."

"And how long will the airship stay here?" he asked.

"They said a few more hours."

"Come to my house, then," he said. "We'll have a chance to visit, and you can have supper with us."

"I wish I could." Yekaterina's smile faded. "Alexei's here in Oberg. I learned that he arrived about a month ago."

"I didn't know."

"He would have no reason to seek you out," she said. "He waited so long to get here — it was worse after you left. Some gave up hope and went away from the camp, and fewer came there. I have to see how my brother is now. A man near the tents told me he was working in this greenhouse, and he should be coming out soon."

"Well, I'm sorry you can't join us."

The blond woman sighed. "Maybe I don't want to see him as much as I thought. It seemed such luck for our ship to have to land here, but now I don't know. You remember what he was like — trouble often found him. I had to bribe a Guardian one time so that Alexei wouldn't be expelled." She did not say what the bribe had been. "But he's my brother, and being here may change him."

"I'm sure it will," Malik said as sincerely as he could. "Such a long wait would try anyone's patience."

"I hope he didn't have to wait too long."

Chimene began to pull at his sleeve, clearly impatient with a discussion that did not directly involve her. "But those are my worries," Yekaterina continued, "not yours. Your bondmate is on the Council here — I learned that, too. You must be proud of her."

"Indeed. I'm lucky to have her as a bondmate — people often tell me so." His tone was a bit too sharp.

"We have to go home," Chimene said.

"Yes, I know." Malik took the child's hand. "Katya, send me a message after you get back to al-Khwarizmi. Maybe I'll even arrange to call you so that we can really talk."

"I'll send a message. I'm happy I was able to see you and your daughter."

"Farewell," Chimene said, and glanced from Yekaterina to Malik. He led her away from the greenhouse. He had not even had a chance to ask Yekaterina about her household, or if she had found a possible bondmate for herself, but he was not anxious to encounter her brother.

The tunnel lay ahead; Malik followed a cart into the passage. His spirits lifted as he looked down at his daughter. Chimene, the child he had feared to have, was now one of his consolations. He loved her beauty, her quickness, her delight in the stories he told her, even her often willful nature.