He made a fist. “They need driven people on the Project, and all you obsessive people will get along fine with each other. You’ll work your hearts out for the new world and won’t let anything stand in your way. You won’t have any other loyalties or feelings that’ll interfere with that, and maybe that’s the only way an enterprise like that is possible. You’ll all be bound together by it. What am I supposed to do? I gave what I could, but it wasn’t enough, and now they’ve made me feel that anything else I do will be insignificant in comparison.”
“It isn’t true.” She took his hand. “You have a chance to do something important still.”
“Don’t give me that shit. You weren’t asked to leave. You’re driven enough for them. You’re not the brightest student here, but you make up for it by working hard, and helping the new students adjust, and making sure most of your friends are people who can help you in some way.”
She tightened her grip on him. “Edwin, that isn’t fair.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I thought we meant a little more to each other than that by now.”
“How much do we mean, Iris? Would you go to Chimkent with me? They’ve got some good people in your field. They might let you in if you applied.”
“You know what I want. You wouldn’t want me to go.”
“You needed a bed partner, and I was handy. I guess you Plains girls always find another one fast enough.”
His words stung; he would never have said that kind of thing to her before. “Edwin, you’re my friend. I care about you. I wish I could help you.”
“Would you speak up for me at a hearing if you thought it might mess up your own chances, if you thought they might not like it if you criticized their decision?”
She was silent for a moment; that possibility had not crossed her mind. “Of course.”
“You waited too long before answering. I know what you’re thinking now. You’re trying to think of a way to get away from me politely so that you can get ready for your seminar, and you’re hoping I don’t make a scene and cause a delay. Or maybe you want to take me back to your room for a quick, consoling pump before you go about your business. Then, when I’ve left the Institute, you’ll sigh once in a while and think, isn’t it too bad Edwin’s gone — that is, if you think about me at all.”
“Edwin, please. I know how you feel. I’d feel even worse if they asked me to leave.”
He scowled. “But they won’t ask you to leave. You’re merciless, Iris. You’ll get through all right, and you won’t look back.”
“You have to appeal.”
“I don’t want to do anything. There’s nothing I can do. Maybe they’re right, and I’ll be happier. I hope you like it when you get to Venus, as I’m sure you will. You ought to take another look at those portraits of Karim al-Anwar they’ve got in the classrooms. Those are a madman’s eyes, you know. That’s the face of a man who didn’t care what he had to do to have what he wanted. You’re beginning to look more like him all the time.”
“If you feel that way,” she burst out, “then they’re right to make you leave.”
The platform a few paces away had stopped; an old man was hobbling out of the lift. Iris turned her head toward the man for a moment, recognizing him; when she looked back, Edwin was already striding away. She was about to go after him, then hesitated. The old man was alone; she might have a chance to say a few words to him, and there was nothing she could do for Edwin now.
She walked toward the man who had once been an Island Administrator. “Greetings, Linker Ngomo,” she said.
The wrinkles in the old man’s dark, wizened face deepened as he peered at her. “Ah, the young woman who asked such interesting questions yesterday.” She started, pleased that he remembered. “Did you enjoy my little talk?”
“Indeed I did.”
“You seemed to be having a tiff with your young man.”
“It’s nothing.” She tried not to think of how much she would miss Edwin; it would pass, and they would have parted anyway in time.
The Linker leaned against his cane as he stared out at the fog. Iris suddenly had the feeling that he was remembering the much darker Cytherian atmosphere, was still longing for the world he would never see again. He had paid for his dream, had lost a daughter in an airship accident when her ship had crashed on Venus. There was a rumor that his bondmate had left him for Earth.
“There was a question I didn’t ask you,” she continued. “We’re alone, and you can say what you like. Was the Project worth it to you?”
“I am still part of the Project, child.”
“I know you’re on the Project Council, but that wasn’t what I meant. If you weren’t, if you’d come back to no reward at all, would it still have been worth it?”
He gazed into her eyes intently, as if studying her. “I can’t think of anything I would rather have done. I wish that I could live long enough to see settlements, but I very much fear that God will have it otherwise. Are you looking for some sort of reassurance, child? You must have seen others who have returned here, and heard what they feel. You might be one of the first settlers. You should not be at this place if you have doubts.”
“I have no doubts,” she said firmly.
He gripped his cane as he watched her. “Then I will tell you this. I have only one regret — that I did not die there, that I grew too weak to stay on, that Venus herself did not claim my life at last.” His mouth widened as he smiled. “Yes, young woman. I see that you understand me.”
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Nineteen
As the platform glided down the side of the Cytherian Institute’s pyramid, rain began to fall. Caracas became long, gray fingers reaching from the valley toward the overcast sky; mist rose from the green land below. Long needles of water spattered soundlessly against the platform’s shield. By the time the passengers had reached the bottom of the pyramid, the sun was again burning through the rapidly vanishing clouds.
People streamed from other platforms, retreating from the cleansed and freshened air as they raced for the nearest tubeway. They crowded into the train, stowing bags on railings and under seats. Iris sat near one window, wedged in between Chantal Lacan and Edris Shaktiar as the train began to move.
Voices shouted, whispered, and babbled in different languages; one young man played his flute while his companions clapped. A few people were holding their heads; some of those who were standing in the aisle made room for one young woman as she stretched out on the floor, her head on a duffel. Some of the students had celebrated the completion of their studies excessively, and were now paying the price.
The babble became more muted as the train reached the outskirts of Caracas and then disappeared into another tubeway. Iris noted a few downcast faces among the passengers; they might be students who would have to settle for assignments on Earth or in near space instead of being sent to Venus immediately, or they might merely be dreading the trip home to their families. She caught a glimpse of Chang Hsin-sheng, who stood near the front of the car. He had been hoping for a post on Anwara, and had been assigned to the Project Council center on Earth instead. She knew how much that had disappointed him.
Iris had been more fortunate; she would be sent to the Islands. Her work, which had remained merely adequate, would not have earned her that post, but the Counselor who had given her the news mentioned other factors, such as Iris’s willingness to leave an infant son, her adaptable character, the fact that her bondmate was already on the Islands, and even her health. It had all amounted to being a great piece of luck, a combination of circumstances over which she had little control. She wished that she could feel that she had earned her good fortune.
“You don’t have to look unhappy,” Edris said as he patted her hand. “You’re one of the lucky ones.”
“Lucky,” she replied. “How right you are.”
A young man helped the resting woman to her feet as the train pulled up below the port. Iris grabbed
her bag and followed the others into a hallway, then up the escalator into a wide, lighted space. Students hurried off in different directions. Chantal shouldered her bag and then threw one arm over Iris’s shoulders. “Just think. Next time I see you, we’ll be on the Islands. Wish I were there now. I don’t know how I’ll get through the next three months.”
“Your patron’ll find something for you to do,” Iris said.
“I guess so.” The slender young woman shrugged. Chantal had no family, or at least not one she cared to remember. She had lived in the streets of Marseilles, earning or stealing money for food and lessons until a Linker had found her there; she had become the Linker’s lover, been given more lessons, and then been chosen for the Institute. The story, so like an old fable, had been embroidered by other students as they told it until Chantal had become one of the school’s legends. Chantal had a somewhat different attitude toward her good fortune. Her once-enamored patron had tired of her; being chosen was a way for him to be rid of her without guilt.
Chantal had arrived at the Institute with less preparation than any of her fellow students; she had surmounted that, and had thrived. Iris had been flattered when the worldly young woman became her friend; she had hoped that some of Chantal’s manner would rub off on her. Now, she was almost relieved at being parted from her, from the quick, lively friend who was everything Iris was not.
Chantal released her. “Good-bye, both of you.” She hurried away toward another corridor. Chang Hsin-sheng waved at Iris and Edris as he passed; he was dressed in a loose jacket and baggy pants instead of the shorts he usually wore. Students embraced one another, then separated. Iris and Edris moved toward one wall and let the stream flow past them as they waved farewells to other friends. Iris wondered how many she would ever see again. In the end, the Institute, by wrenching them from their homes and then preparing them for a life away from their world, had trained them all for farewells.
She gazed at Edris silently. He had clipped his pin, the tiny gold microscope marking him as a microbiologist, to the band of white cloth he had wrapped around his head. “You’ll miss your suborb,” she said at last.
“There’s time,” he replied. She reached up, touching his dark beard; he took her hand. “It’s only for a year or so,” he finished.
“Unless you’re given a chance to do even more study. Then it might be longer.”
Edris shook his head. “They’ve just about guaranteed me a place on the Islands by then, and there will be many I can learn from there.” Edris was going home, and then on to Tashkent for a year of additional study. Iris had not bothered to request more training; even if her work had been more than adequate, there was Chen to consider, and her son. She frowned at that thought.
Edris put down his bag, placing it between his legs so that one of the tough-looking children lurking nearby would not try to grab it. “Maybe it’s better this way. You have your child to concern you now, and a bondmate to join. You made him a promise.”
“I was too young to make that promise, and he might have forgotten his own.” She was sure that wasn’t true even as she spoke; Chen’s infrequent messages, however brief, never failed to express how much he missed her.
“You were not too young. If so, then you were too young to commit yourself to the Project also.”
She lowered her eyes. That was, of course, the real reason she would keep her pledge to Chen. If one pledge were broken, those on the Project might have doubts about whether she could keep her commitment to their vision. Chen had to be aware of that as well. Having a bondmate on the Islands had weighed in her favor; Chen’s own status there might be a bit higher with a specialist from the Institute as his bondmate. Their bond was still too useful to them both to break.
“I have my own promise to keep now,” Edris said, sighing. “I expect my village is already planning a feast for me. My father will summon all of his friends and my mother will cook my favorite foods. The mullah will come to our house and speak of what a marvel I am and forget all the dire warnings he gave me about what happens to a man who forsakes his village. He’ll be watching to be sure I heed the call to prayer and to see what evil habits I’ve picked up. And then we’ll all plan my wedding to Nahid.”
Iris rested her head against his chest and put her arms around his waist. They had spoken of all of this when they met and then had never talked of it again.
“I hope you’ll be happy,” she murmured, meaning it. He was the only student, except for Esteban, who had learned of her formal bond to Chen; she had never even mentioned that to Chantal. She had told Edris about the bond the first night they had made love, not wanting to deceive him. Now, she wondered if knowing of that bond had kept Edris at her side for the past year. He had been free to love her, while knowing that she could not take him from the woman he had promised his parents he would marry.
“Nahid is kind and gentle. She’ll become my wife and wait for me to finish my studies and then follow me to the Islands because it’s what I want. They’ll put her to work tending hydroponic vats or maintaining machinery because that’s all she’s trained to do — she never cared for learning. She’ll bear whatever children we’re allowed to have, and she may miss the village, but she won’t complain. Sometimes, I wonder if, by keeping my promise, I’m not being crueler to her, but if I turned from her now, her life there would be harder. Some would wonder why I refused to take her as a wife. Her family would be shamed, and there would be bad blood between her father and mine.”
“She may change,” Iris said. “The Islands aren’t like your village. When she sees there are other ways to live, she may be happy you took her away from that life.”
“I hope so. I knew she would become my wife, but I never thought of what that would mean for her until I came here. I want a true woman with me, not a child I have to lead.”
“She may not let you lead. She might change more than you expect. Perhaps she wants to leave the village and hides it, knowing that she can do that only through you. I made a bond with Chen when I believed he would take me away from Lincoln. I cared for him, but if he hadn’t shared my dream, I would never have made the pledge. Nahid may want her own life on the Islands.”
Edris cupped her face in his hands. “And then I could come to you. Is that what you think?” His smile was sad. “Let’s keep our memories, and not ask for more. I know you too well, Iris. You’re not a woman who can love only one man. You give everything of yourself to one, but only for a time. Maybe that’s better than sharing only a part of yourself for years.”
She thought of Chen. He would not reproach her for having had Edris as a lover; Chen himself would not have spent their years apart without companionship. But with Edris, she had a mental life that Chen, however interested he was in her studies and thoughts, could never really share. It was when she and Edris talked of the Project and their studies and sat together in front of a screen, not when they were making love, that she had felt most disloyal to Chen.
“I must go,” Edris said. He seemed about to kiss her, then stopped to pick up his bag instead. “Farewell.”
“On the Islands —” she began to say.
“You and Chen must greet us there.”
She watched as he walked away through the crowd.
She boarded a floater heading for Yucatán; from there, she would get on another floater making a stop at San Antonio and then go on to Des Moines, and the Plains. She had explained to her mother in her last message that she had waited too long to make her plans, and that there was no space on any suborbital flight to a Plains city. She had refused to dwell on her real reasons for preferring this longer trip.
The floater’s two hundred seats were nearly full; a few other students were among the floater’s passengers. Iris made her way along the aisle and nodded at the students she knew by sight, then saw a familiar face near the back of the cabin. She hurried toward an empty seat and sat down, then turned toward the young woman next to her.
“Alexandra,” Iris s
aid.
“Iris! I thought it was you.”
Iris stowed her bag under the seat. “God, I’m tired. Takes too long to get around that port.”
“You’re telling me.”
“No rooms for us this time, I guess.”
“That’s fine with me. The Institute was paying last time, don’t forget. Anyway, I might want to stop over in Yucatán.” Alexandra’s voice seemed brittle. “You remember Richard Matties, don’t you?” Alexandra gestured at the young man next to her; Richard had grown a moustache. Iris recalled the down that had been on his upper lip before, when they were all traveling to Caracas for the first time.
Alexandra had changed as well. She no longer wore her braids; her pale hair had been clipped close to her skull, and she had darkened her lashes and eyelids with a black, sooty substance. Iris had rarely seen the two during her last year at the Institute; the Plains students, who had banded together at first, feeling lost and unprepared, had eventually gone their separate ways.
Alexandra, who had shared her hopes so long ago, had rarely spoken to Iris after their first months at the Institute, and Iris had not sought her company. She wondered if Alexandra had felt the same way she had, embarrassed at the presence of one who had known her before the Institute had changed her. The Institute had done its work, implanting devotion to the Project along with a cool, studious manner; there was little of the Plains left in any of them.
Alexandra measured Iris with a glance, then smiled more warmly. There was no cause for awkwardness now; hadn’t they both succeeded? Iris smiled back as the blond young woman spoke of her plans; after her visit with her family, she would go on to Tokyo for a year of work in embryology, but had a good chance of getting to the Islands after that. Richard, a metallurgical engineer, would be going to one of Earth’s space stations for a while. They sighed with envy when Iris said she would be going directly to the Islands.
Venus of Dreams Page 29
