Teofila was silent for a moment. It might work, Chen thought. It might very well have worked if they had planted their charges on the Platform. He shook off the thought, which seemed to corrupt everything the Project had been meant to be.
“I warn you,” Teofila went on. “Do not move any machines down here with your bands or Links. If you do, the consequences will be severe. Tell Earth that it had better not trick us with its agreement, for there are five among us, including myself, who can read and understand such contracts and ferret out any loopholes. You must leave the channel to Earth open, so that we can listen to negotiations. You have two twenty-four-hour periods to settle this. If you do not, the dome goes, and so does everyone inside.” Teofila slapped a panel. “Well, that’s it,” she said. “They’d better listen.”
Chen tugged at his bonds, feeling helpless. “Are you really prepared to die?” he asked.
The pilot turned her seat toward him. Her face might have been pretty in repose; now, her fine features were contorted, and her dark eyes were slits. “Do you doubt it?”
“You could get away. You ought to check the ship, see if the systems are still working. You might have damaged them coming down.”
She seemed unmoved by the suggestion. “If we succeed,” she said coldly, “then we can leave in that other airship, or have one sent here. If we don’t, no one’s leaving anyway.” She leaned back in her chair, showing her profile to him. Her face was hard; she had already embraced the darkness.
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Thirty-Two
Tonie Wong lay on Amir’s bed. A physician had been summoned to treat her; a drug had been given to Tonie to make her sleep. She had come to Amir just after the Linker had alerted Pavel and the Platform crews; Iris had listened as the small woman gasped out what she knew of the plot.
Iris could forgive Tonie for trying to protect her bondmate. It would be harder to forgive her for having put Chen in danger. She would never forgive her if Chen died.
Iris swallowed. The pilot Teofila Marquez had said nothing about Chen during her fearsome speech. The names of those who had been aboard the plotters’ airship were in the bay’s records; Chen had entered the bay before their departure and had vanished. She had to assume Chen was still alive, that the plotters would not have killed a possible hostage, that Fei-lin might have found a way to protect his old friend.
The people inside the domes on the surface had been warned that the airship might attempt a landing there, but too late for any of them to have attempted to escape before then. The plotters’ ruse, if it had been a ruse, was successful; the Administrators had been too busy worrying about who might have aided the plotters to think of the domes or the threat the apparently troubled airship might pose to them. There had been time only to tell the people inside the domes not to offer a futile resistance that would put them in more danger.
“We have to go,” Amir said. “Pavel wants us with him now.” He opened a drawer, took out a white robe, and pulled it on over his shirt and pants, as if he were going to a formal meeting.
Iris got up and followed him out of the room. They hurried along the corridor until they were in front of Pavel’s door. Several people had gathered in the hallway; the Guardians in front of Pavel’s door allowed Iris and Amir to pass.
They entered the room. Pavel, also clothed in a white robe, was seated on one cushion. Two Administrators sat in one corner; three Habbers were near them, and Iris recognized Erena, the Habber whom she had begged for help. Fawzia Habeeb sat next to Pavel, one hand on the ceremonial wand at her waist; her eyes narrowed as she looked up at Iris.
“What’s this woman doing here?” the Guardian commander said without preliminaries.
“Let her stay,” Pavel replied. “She’s played her part in recent events.” Iris looked away guiltily as Pavel motioned toward the cushions in front of him. “Please sit down.”
I’ve failed, Pavel thought. There would be no forgiveness this time. He steadied himself; he would have to look as though he were still in control of events.
The plotters could not have acted alone. Without aid, they could never have laid their hands on the charges and weapons they needed without raising questions. Of all the people on the Islands, Guardians were most likely to provoke a possibly violent confrontation in order to settle matters. He suspected a Guardian’s hand in all of this, perhaps even Fawzia’s, though she would have been careful to distance herself from the plot through a trusted intermediary; even the plotters might not have known who was manipulating them.
If the dome and the people inside it were destroyed, the Habbers, who hated bloodshed, might withdraw their aid from the Project, while Earth, seeing the damage done to the enterprise, would have no reason not to attack the Islands directly in retribution. Earth could, of course, give in, but that would depend on how many enemies the Mukhtar Abdullah Heikal and his circle had, how many in the Council of Mukhtars would be prepared to let Abdullah be a scapegoat. Pavel did not want to count on that.
If he could find some way, however, to save the dome and make the plotters give up without forcing Earth into a humiliating agreement, both Earth and the Habbers would be grateful to him. He could then point out to Earth that other Islanders might be moved to make similar threats in the future, but that Earth and the Islands could settle their differences before that happened. Earth would retain its pride, and the Project could proceed. The plotters could be punished, if the Mukhtars demanded it, when the time was right. And, most important to Pavel himself, he would make it clear to Earth that it was he who could control the Islanders and deflect such threats. It was a slim chance, but his only one.
All of these thoughts ran through his mind in an instant. Pavel cleared his throat. “You’ve all heard the words of the pilot named Teofila Marquez,” he said. “She and her cohorts are now in control of the dome called al-Anwar. I’ve consulted with Administrators here and on the other Islands through my Link, and they’ve agreed to allow me to do what I think best now.” Once, he had had to extract such power from the other Administrators; it had taken years to assert his dominance. Now, he thought bitterly, they were all too willing to let him take responsibility for anything that happened. If he failed, Abdullah Heikal would not be the only scapegoat.
“I’ve replied to Teofila Marquez,” Pavel went on. “I told her we would consider her demands. There are fifteen Habber geologists, botanists, and engineers inside the dome, along with one pilot and five Islander scientists who are now prisoners. They, quite sensibly, did not try to resist. A worker named Liang Chen is a prisoner aboard the airship with Teofila Marquez. He has not been harmed. Liang Chen confirmed this himself.”
“He’s alive,” Iris said; her eyes glistened with tears.
Pavel looked at the woman. The recent months had aged her a little. He thought of what she had told him during their last talk; maybe he should have listened to her.
“It was Liang Chen who warned us of the danger to the Platform,” Amir said. “Had he not alerted us, the Platform instead of a dome would have been threatened, and consequently all of our lives. He would, I am told, not have been a prisoner now if he had not been trying to save a friend from throwing away his life in this scheme.”
“All this talk!” Fawzia burst out. “It’s time to act. My words are for the Habbers.” She glared at the three Habbers who were present. “Fifteen of your people are threatened with death. Don’t you have the power to force Earth into an agreement if that would save them?”
The Habber named Erena plucked at the collar of her plain gray shirt. Her pale eyes were staring at Fawzia as if the commander were a member of another species. “I’ll answer your question,” the Habber said, “as any one of my people would answer it. Yes, we have the power to force Earth into an agreement. We have more power than they suspect. But we will not use it.”
Fawzia sneered. “You’ll let fifteen of your people die? You won’t defend them at all?”
“If we defend them
, many people will die in any battle with Earth. We can demonstrate that Earth could not win against us, but I suspect that your people would not accept such a demonstration. We could protect ourselves, but Earth would throw its forces against us, even knowing it was futile, and insist on testing us. Many would die. We won’t soil ourselves with the blood of others.”
“You’ll let fifteen Habbers die,” Fawzia said, “without fighting for their lives?”
“It’s true,” the Habber woman responded. “We’ll let fifteen die if hundreds, maybe thousands, can be saved. Our friends inside the dome would not want us to act otherwise, they would not buy their lives with the deaths of others. Earth, on the other hand, would send thousands to their deaths to preserve the interests of a few. I’m content to let others judge which is the more civilized course of action.”
“I think you have no defenses,” Fawzia said. “I think you don’t want Earth to see how weak you really are.”
Erena smiled. “We shared your heritage before we changed ourselves. We know only too well that our desire for peace alone would not have protected us.”
“And if those Habbers die,” Fawzia went on, “what will you do then?”
The Habber shrugged. “Those of us here will share your fate. We won’t flee from those we’ve tried to help, or appeal to the Earth ships to let us pass unharmed. I don’t imagine our people would then want to have much contact with Earth or whatever’s left of this Project.” She glanced at Pavel. “You may tell your Mukhtars that, if you think it will make any difference, but this is your dispute, not ours.” She paused for a moment. “Those people inside the dome could speak to Earth directly, yet they want you to speak for them. Why haven’t they asked to speak for themselves?”
Pavel’s lip curled. There were times when the Habbers had impressed him with their brilliance, and other times when they seemed to have no more sense than a child. “That should be obvious,” he said evenly. “They want us to be part of their deed. They want Earth to see that this won’t be just an isolated incident, that, to win against Earth, we have to stand with them now. It strengthens their position.”
Only a Habber could have asked such a question. The woman simply did not seem to grasp the situation. Habbers pretended there were no problems, or ran away from them. That was probably their total defense against Earth — that they could simply retreat into their Habitats and run away. They were like sheep who were protected from wolves only because the wolves needed their tools and also knew that the sheep, if necessary, could escape them.
Pavel had to find a way to buy time, and there was little time left. The plotters either had to be brought to believe that they had won without really winning anything, or they had to be made to back down when they saw that they might have to die to carry out their threat. At least some of them had to be bluffing, had to be unprepared to take that final, deadly step. He wished that he had time to study their profiles, to look for weak spots and possible avenues of persuasion. If he could resolve this matter somehow, and save both the dome and Earth’s pride, then the Mukhtars would find it difficult to take steps against him.
“Here is our dilemma,” Pavel said aloud. “The dome is threatened. The plotters intend to set their small nuclear charges around its perimeter. The radiation produced would be minor if an explosion occurs, but it could set off a severe quake in that region. The Habber seismologists have assured me that the other domes can withstand a powerful quake, and I am assuming they’re right, but we’ve asked the few people in those domes to leave. We have to deal with Earth over this, yet I don’t know how we can. The Mukhtars may risk losing the dome. We may not be able to save the rest of the Project or ourselves unless we distance ourselves from that act instead of passing on demands and negotiating for those below. But if we don’t negotiate, we lose anyway.”
Fawzia leaned forward. “Then contact Earth,” she said. “Let those plotters think you’re working for an agreement. Tell them that you’re even willing to send some of your Administrators down there to the dome to negotiate with them as well.” The Guardian struck her thigh with a fist. “You won’t be sending Administrators, of course, but Guardians. Let me and some of my people get inside, and we’ll find a way to disable them. It’s time to act, Pavel. It’s the only way.”
Pavel sighed. Such a plan, dangerous as it was, might work. Fawzia, of course, would take the credit for it if it did. If she had actually had a hand in the plot, she would also have a chance to erase anything connecting her to it; he doubted many of the plotters would survive, and some of their captives might die as well.
“I’m afraid,” he said, “that we have no other choice.”
“No!” a woman cried out, Pavel glanced at Iris, who had spoken.
Iris knew what she might be able to do. Her hands grew colder as she considered her idea, turned it this way and that, almost hoping to find some flaw in it that would keep her from speaking it aloud. She thought of Chen. Do I love you enough to do this? How can I do less than what you would do for me, what you’ve already done?
“You mustn’t send the commander,” she said. “It’s too dangerous. Perhaps I can speak to them.” Her voice trembled a bit. “I know some of them, you see. Administrator Amir punched up the list for me. Wu Fei-lin was a friend. I’ve spoken to Eleanor Surrey. I’ve helped a couple of others there with problems in the past. They might listen to me.”
“Why should they listen to you?” Fawzia asked. “There’s only one message they want to hear, and you can’t deliver it. They’ll only close the channel.”
“They’ll listen to me if I go there, to the surface.”
“Iris,” Pavel said softly, “are you willing to take such a risk?”
“My bondmate is down there,” she answered. “I must try to save him. I might be able to convince the others to let him go. There are Habbers there, and if they die, their people will turn from us. I have no love for Habbers, as you know, but my son is one of their people, so I have, however much I dislike it, a bond of sorts with them. And there are five young people among the plotters who are hardly more than children. They don’t deserve to be in danger because of their parents’ madness.” That cursed Eleanor had dragged her own son into the plot; she might try to appeal to Eleanor’s feelings for the boy, but wondered how many feelings such a woman would have. She grimaced; she herself had failed her own son. “Perhaps I can convince them to let some of the captives return, and once they do that, they might reconsider other things as well.”
“They might become more implacable,” Fawzia said. “Why should they listen to you?”
“I know them. I know that some will be having second thoughts now, and I can find a way to use that.”
“They might only believe,” Fawzia said, “that you’re trying to save that bondmate of yours and would even lie for him. They won’t listen to you. You have no power here, no standing.”
“But they wouldn’t believe that of me,” Amir said. Iris looked at him, too surprised to speak. “I’m an Administrator. I can speak for all of us, I can tell them that we’re negotiating with Earth already. I have some minor practice in this sort of discussion in, of course, less drastic circumstances. They’re not likely to believe I’d go there if I thought there was danger. Let me be blunt — I’ve never had a reputation as a brave man. I would be willing to travel there with Iris.”
“You think you can settle this with talk?” Fawzia shouted.
Iris forced herself to look directly at the Guardian. “Better my way than yours,” she said as calmly as she could. “You’d put everyone inside the dome at risk. I wouldn’t put them in any more danger than they’re already in. We’d have a chance to settle this peacefully.” She turned toward Pavel. “Please let me try.”
“I won’t stop you,” Pavel said. “Ill speak to Earth. I’m hoping they’ll agree to negotiate over an open channel just to keep the plotters calm when the Mukhtars realize we’re trying to deal with this matter in another way as well. You’d
better prepare to leave as soon as possible. We have less than forty-two hours left.”
The pale yellow light that passed for an Island dawn shone down on the people who had gathered in front of the ziggurat. Those standing on the steps parted as Amir and Iris descended; Iris nodded absently at those who greeted her. It seemed that over half of the Island’s residents were present, and several people had climbed up into the trees lining the path.
At the edge of the crowd, a man with a Linker’s jewel stood next to a small cart. He stepped aside as Iris and Amir approached. “The pilot Hussein Said has volunteered to take you to the surface,” the Linker said. “He’ll be waiting for you in the bay. God go with you.”
As Iris climbed into the cart, the murmuring of the assembled Islanders died. She looked back. Pavel had come out onto the steps to speak to the Islanders; as he lifted his white-robed arms, he seemed like a king about to address his subjects.
“Fellow Islanders!” Pavel called out in an amplified voice. She saw him touch the tiny microphone at his neck. Amir pressed a panel and the cart rolled forward; the crowd was soon hidden behind the trees. “Fellow Islanders,” Pavel repeated; his voice was already distant.
She and Amir had taken tablets so that they would not have to sleep; there had been no time to put implants containing the drug into their arms. The cart passed a small garden, and Iris was struck by the vivid, colorful beauty of the flowers; the pill was already imparting a false euphoria. She supposed that the plotters had taken similar substances to fuel their determination, and that worried her. Eleanor and the others might have only a shaky grip on rationality; Iris, who had not slept at all during the past hours, would have to keep her wits.
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