The two pilots had donned their bands; their eyes were focused on the panels and small screens in front of them. The airship, except for a few boxes that had been secured in the aisles, was empty. Iris sat in the front of the cabin with the pilots and watched the large screen overhead as the airship floated north.
The ship’s outside lights shone out over a dark formlessness upon which Iris could project her dreams. In times to come, when the Parasol was dismantled and the sun’s light again shone on Venus, a world shaped by men and women would be revealed. The lifeless, sterile ocean far below, an acidic ocean that might have boiled away in the still-intense heat but for the high atmospheric pressure, would teem with life.
Buoys carrying probes floated on the shallow ocean; other probes rested on the flatlands of Aphrodite and the mountains of Ishtar Terra, on the slopes of Theia and Rhea, and along the ocean’s shore. Other probes rode on the Venusian winds or orbited the planet. From the data they gathered, Iris and the other climatologists could, with the aid of the cyberminds, create their models and from them make their forecasts and predictions.
From an airship, Iris could not possibly duplicate the work of the probes, but, in the past, her trips had been useful. She had recommended new sites for probes, alerted to them by her odd instinct, and thus her team’s picture of this world had grown a little more complete. At the Institute, other students had joked that a climatologist would study a computer model before planning a picnic, but would never go outside to look at the sky or study the behavior of birds and animals preparing for a storm. Iris had taken the joke to heart.
She rested her head against the back of her seat. Why couldn’t her son share her vision? So often, his dark eyes had a haunted, unhappy look; in his small room at the pilots’ quarters, his viewscreen image showed no Earth landscape, but a starry sky. Why didn’t he see that nothing else he might do could possibly equal the accomplishment of settling this world? The first Cytherians would set the pattern for those who came later; their dreams would dominate, and they would be legends to those who followed. It would no longer matter what failures or disappointments they had suffered in their earlier lives.
The airship dropped slowly as the dirigible’s empty cells took in some of the tenuous atmosphere. Iris would need only a small sample of atmosphere from the haze above the cloud level; when one cell was filled, Te-yu would take the ship up to Island Eight. If the wind below caught them, they would be in danger, but Te-yu was skilled; she would not let them drop too far.
“Let me hear some sound,” Iris said.
Te-yu pressed a button. Iris could barely hear the distant whine of the wind; there was something new in the sound, a high pitch she had not heard before.
Iris shook her head. Marc had called her superstitious, and maybe he was right. Her observations, unlike those of a probe or a drone, could be shaped by imaginings and vague intuitions. She would have enough real work to do soon. Within the next few months, the pyramids on Venus’s equator would send out their pulse of power. She and the other climatologists had already calculated how the increased speed of rotation that would result might affect the air patterns and the weather below, but even if their models turned out to be accurate, more study would be needed to determine good sites for the domed settlements.
Her fingers fluttered against her armrests. She had almost forgotten that she was likely to be on Island Eight by then, reduced to being nothing more than a link between her colleagues and the geologists. She would simply have to find a way to make her new post an opportunity; close contact with the geologists might help her in her own work. She would have to find some way to continue being useful. Otherwise, when Benzi’s apprenticeship was over, and later, when her bond with Chen lapsed, the Project might have no reason to keep her here at all.
Marc, she saw, had her in a bind. If she continued to be valuable to him, he would go on claiming credit for her work. If she slacked off, he might not bring her back to Island Two, since he would have an excuse to recommend her dismissal then.
She could have borne that. She might even be able to stand a return to Earth, where there had to be many Institute graduates waiting for her place here, if Benzi had shared her goal.
Another thought was troubling her as well. The engines inside the pyramids below might fail; the pulse might not speed up Venus’s rotation as planned. That fear was rarely discussed, but she knew that it troubled other minds. Earth might cut back on the Project then, might even disband the Institute and scatter its students to other schools. Any thought of settling soon might have to be postponed or reconsidered if the giant installations failed at their task.
Earth would have a convenient scapegoat if such a failure occurred — the Habbers, whose people had built the structures and engines. The Habbers might be forced to leave the Islands; some might even believe that they had deliberately sabotaged that stage of the Project. If the Habbers left, the Project would be set back for decades, or even longer; they needed the Habbers’ help, whether Earth wanted to admit it or not. Even she, who disliked the attraction the Habbers seemed to hold for her son, knew that.
Iris listened to Venus. The ship’s sensors kept the sound low, but the whine had grown louder. Yet it seemed that the wind was beginning to die, as it would in the centuries to come.
“This is about as low as I care to go,” Te-yu said.
“Fine.”
Benzi was hunched over a section of panels; he straightened suddenly. “One pump’s still on,” he said in a flat voice. He did not have to speak; Te-yu, Iris saw, was already aware of that. The young female pilot pressed a button under one small screen alive with flickering symbols.
“It’s still pumping atmosphere into one cell,” Benzi said. “I think the pump’s jammed.”
“Better run all the pumps,” Te-yu replied. “We’ve got to stop dropping.”
Two screens filled with red symbols; the cry of the airship’s alarm drowned out the sound of the wind. Te-yu cursed. “Another pump’s jammed. Better not run the others. We’re still dropping toward the cloud layer.” The pilot’s high, musical voice was oddly calm; she leaned over her communicator and opened the switch. “Island Two, Island Two, do you hear? This is Hong Te-yu. My ship’s dropping, two of our pumps are jammed. Two people are aboard with me, my copilot, Benzi Liangharad, and one passenger, Iris Angharads. Advise.”
“We hear you,” a man’s voice said over the comm.
“Advise.”
“Have you opened the other pumps to push atmosphere out?”
“You must think I’m an idiot,” Te-yu muttered. “We tried that already. Now we’ve got two jammed pumps.” She glanced at another screen. “A circuit just failed — the ship isn’t overriding. Who the fuck was supposed to keep this ship in repair?”
“What are you doing down so low?”
Te-yu whispered a few words in Chinese. “Listen,” she continued in a louder voice, “once those cells are full of atmosphere, maybe we can keep from dropping any farther. In the meantime, get a fix on us and try to get us out of here.”
“We’ll do our best.”
“Just do it.” Te-yu slapped the comm switch. “This, my friends, is what happens when Earth gets stingy with new components. This balloon’s going to take us for a ride.” She hit another button, shutting off the alarm.
Iris stared up at the screen above them; the darkness seemed thicker and more inpenetrable. She lowered her eyes to a small screen, reading the numbers. They were now little more than sixty kilometers above the planet’s surface; the winds were only about ten kilometers below them. She did not want to think about what those winds could do to this ship.
“This is my fault,” she said helplessly.
“Come on, Iris,” Te-yu said. “I don’t need you nagging at yourself. Seems this crate was due for some problems anyway. Better suit up, just in case.”
Iris got up and put on the suit she had carried aboard; the suit wouldn’t provide much protection, but at least getti
ng into it gave her something to do. By the time she had sat down again, Benzi had put on his own suit and was controlling the airship as Te-yu donned her own. His helmet hid his face; Iris was relieved that she couldn’t see him. She should have insisted that he stay behind. She tried to steady herself; Te-yu might need her son’s help.
“Listen,” Te-yu said. “We’re running out of alternatives here. There’s no choice now — I’ve got to turn on all the pumps and hope they start pumping out instead of in.” Her voice sounded hollow over the suit comm.
The ship lurched abruptly; Iris clutched at the harness holding her in her seat. The airship’s alarm sounded again. The wind caught them, sweeping the vessel west through the swirling clouds; the ship’s outside lights danced dizzyingly.
“Pumping out now,” she heard Benzi say, but the pumps had begun working too late. The alarm seemed louder; the ship lurched once more.
Iris could no longer hear the winds; perhaps the sensors had now been damaged. The ship veered as it rode the wind, then shuddered; Iris strained at her harness. Her ears throbbed as she sucked in air.
“Helium leak,” her son said. “Shit.”
Iris closed her eyes. That was it, then; if the dirigible lost its helium, they would never escape. She wondered what Marc was thinking. The Islands had to be aware of the seriousness of their plight by now, but she could not imagine how they could be rescued. Marc had warned her; she should have listened. He would be sorry, but able to absolve himself of blame, and maybe he would get along better with her replacement.
Her mouth was dry; she could hear only the sound of her own breathing. She was going to die; Venus would claim her in its own way. It was time to prepare her soul, recall some of the prayers she had almost forgotten. She thought of Chen. Her own suffering would be over before long, while Chen’s was just beginning. He might have endured her loss, but to lose Benzi as well might be more than he could bear. He would grow to hate the Project, and his dream might die at last.
The ship shook. “Another leak,” Te-yu said calmly. The pilot was losing control of the ship. Iris forced herself to sit up. They were still dropping, and being dragged to the west. Iris stared through her helmet at one small screen, where a map of the wind patterns flickered, then let out her breath. They might still have a chance.
The wind’s speed had decreased; they were now caught in a wind moving at less than three hundred kilometers an hour — not much of an improvement, she thought acidly. They were still falling; there was no way, with the leaks, of gaming a higher altitude.
“Te-yu,” Iris said, “how long will the helium cells hold up?”
“Not much longer. I’ll bet the wind’s doing some work on those leaks.”
“Then we’d better start thinking about where to land.” This suggestion was met with silence. “Airships have landed before,” Iris continued.
“Reinforced ships,” Te-yu replied, “stronger ships under better conditions, and they didn’t try dropping through these winds. They came down where they aren’t as strong.” Te-yu, Iris realized, was still hoping somehow that she could bring the airship up; her pride as a pilot was warring with her common sense.
“Te-yu,” Iris said, “if you can pull this off, there won’t be a pilot on the Islands who can outbrag you. You won’t have to buy your own drinks for a long time.”
“And if we land,” Benzi said, “how do we get out?”
“Let’s worry about landing first.” Iris tried to sound confident. “The crosswinds lower down flow to the north. That’s our only chance. If we land in an ocean area, the acids will eat through this ship, even if we don’t sink. We don’t want to be near the volcanic regions, either — they’ve been a little too active lately. If we can get anywhere near the polar installation in the north, one of the Bat shuttles might be able to get to us, or we could get to it.”
“Nice idea,” Te-yu said blandly, “as long as I can control this ship. That, of course, is the drawback.”
The ship bucked as it continued to fall. Iris glanced at a gauge and noticed that the wind’s speed was decreasing. If they could land, if the leaks could somehow be repaired — she tried not to think ahead any further than that. Her neck was stiff; she shifted her shoulders inside her slightly bulky suit.
The ship trembled, throwing her against her harness. “Another leak,” Benzi said, “and it looks like a pretty big rip.”
Iris looked at the map. They were southeast of the Maxwell Mountain region; there was no chance of reaching the polar installation now, but a landing on the mountains might he possible. They were descending fast, with less than thirty kilometers to fall.
The ship veered, slamming her against the left side of her seat. “Can’t hang on,” she heard Te-yu say.
“Jettison the dirigible,” Iris said. She heard a sharp gasp as the pilot sucked in her breath. “You heard me. Jettison the helium cells. We’ll have to ride down on the cabin’s chutes.”
She waited, expecting Te-yu to object. Without the helium, they would lose even the small chance of getting off the surface by themselves. The chutes, like the pumps, might not work.
“Iris is right,” Benzi said.
Iris waited. A jolt shook the ship; without looking at the pilot’s panels, Iris knew that Te-yu had cut loose the cabin.
A northerly crosswind caught the falling cabin. At last, after a long, tense silence, the chutes opened, jolting Iris. Her gloved fingers dug into her armrests as the ship floated slowly toward the surface.
Here, the thick atmosphere was stagnant and still. The ship’s outside lights were swallowed by a black fog, and droplets dotted the large screen; here, the acidic rain was a mist. Iris could already see the tiny lines the acid was etching into the screen’s lenses.
The ship hit the ground suddenly, throwing them all forward against their harnesses, then bounced forward on its treads until it came to a stop. The cabin was leaning to the left, its floor at an angle. Iris heard a soft clicking sound as Te-yu released the chutes; on the screen, she saw one ghostly chute flutter past the lights.
One small screen showed them a schematic of the region in which they had landed; they had reached the southernmost part of the Maxwell Mountains, and the ship was perched precariously on a slope. Iris stared at the large screen, trying to imagine the high peaks around them. The atmosphere above them, even after the Project’s efforts, had a pressure fifty times as great as Earth’s, and she wondered how long the cabin, even with its heavy shielding, could withstand it; she could almost feel it pressing in around them. Perhaps the intense heat would get them first. She was beginning to wish that she didn’t know quite so much about the dangers of this planet.
“Not bad for a landing, if I do say so myself,” Te-yu said at last. “Benzi, I think your mother missed her calling. She might not have been a bad pilot herself.”
Benzi grunted.
“You’re a pretty good one too. Guess we can safely say that you’re through with your apprenticeship.”
“Guess so.” Benzi paused. “We’re not going to get out of this.”
“We’re still alive, aren’t we?” Iris heard the lack of conviction in her own voice. “There’s still a chance they’ll find a way to get us out.”
Benzi’s sigh crackled on her suit comm. “Oh, if we’d had a few Linkers aboard, or Mukhtar Pavel, then maybe they’d go to some trouble. I don’t know what they’re going to do for us.”
Iris had nothing to say to that. She could already sense the decisions being made on the Islands. If they did nothing, they would lose only one malfunctioning airship, two pilots, and a climatologist who had been less than one of her specialty’s shining glories. If a rescue were attempted, more might be lost. It made sense; the Project had to cut its losses. Of course, they would have to make some show of a rescue, lest they seem heartless, but they would dither about it until it was too late to take any truly effective action.
“They’ll know where we are,” Te-yu said. “They’ll know we’ve l
anded by now.”
“We have to let them know we’re alive,” Iris responded. “We’ve got to send them a message.”
“I’ve got some bad news for you,” Te-yu said. “The ship’s comm is out.”
Iris almost laughed. “You certainly know how to cheer us up.”
“Got some good news too. The cabin’s holding up, and we seem to have plenty of air. Guess the rebreathing system hasn’t gone the way of those two pumps.”
It was over, then. The Islanders wouldn’t know if they were alive; they would have an excuse not to attempt a rescue. She thought of the crates in the aisle behind them. One of them might contain medical supplies, might hold some drug that could end their waiting quickly. Iris shuddered. She couldn’t die with the sin of suicide staining her. It was odd, she mused. The old faith that she had neglected and doubted still had a faint hold on her mind; she could almost see Mary waiting for her, an old friend ready to forgive.
Te-yu took off her helmet; after a moment, Benzi and Iris removed theirs as well. The ship’s air seemed stale and warm; Iris wondered how long the ship’s systems would last. Te-yu stood up slowly, holding the back of her seat as she took a step along the sloping floor. “I don’t know about you,” the pilot said, “but I’m going to check out our cargo.” She moved carefully toward the aisle; Iris looked away, sure that Te-yu was also thinking of drugs.
“Chen will know by now,” Benzi said softly. She remembered that he was working a shift at the northern Bat. “The news should have reached him already.”
He’ll think we’re already dead, Iris thought. She tried to recall her last meeting with Chen. They had shared a meal, they had gossiped about friends; they had pretended that their bond still had some meaning.
“I wasn’t a good bondmate to him,” Iris said, “and I could have been a better mother to you.”
“Well, I wasn’t the kind of son you both would have preferred, either. I would have hurt you even more eventually. I would have —” Benzi suddenly looked away.
“You mustn’t say such things, son. Before you were born, my own mother told me how much pain a child could bring to a parent, and perhaps you’ve done that, but you’ve brought joy as well. I’ve forgotten how often I myself had to battle with Angharad for what I wanted.”
Venus of Dreams Page 37
