Authors: Pamela Sargent
"One might call them the true Habitat-dwellers. Earth thinks all Habbers are much like the ones they see, but they're not. We're only a bridge they choose to maintain."
"You sound as if you have regrets."
"It's done," Benzi said. "Regrets are pointless now."
"I had to ask. I had to see if there was a chance. Maybe you're just trying to make it easier for me by making me think I'd regret such a choice."
That was partly true; Benzi would do the Earthman no favor by encouraging his dream. "You'd be better off accepting your lot and making your peace with whatever you find on Venus." He kept his voice as firm as possible. "You don't really want to escape to a Hab — you want to recapture what you've lost — your easy life, your quiet pursuits. If you were offered your old life now, you'd take it without a qualm, I suspect. You're probably used to having others ease your way, but no Habber's going to do that for you. Accept what you have now, or you'll never make a life for yourself."
"Did you?"
Benzi smiled ruefully. "I was young then and not overly reflective, and now I'm here, helping others reach the world I abandoned. A new world needs such people — those who take a risk to get there and who will value what they find. Maybe you should try to become more like them."
Malik was silent. Benzi turned away from him and walked back to the tower; there was nothing more to say.
* * *
Keir Renin, the officer in charge of the camp, was a broad-faced man, who seemed to regard his assignment as some sort of punishment. He skulked in the tower for much of the day, complaining about supplies, glancing at records, and questioning his subordinates about matters in the camp, which he rarely entered. He seemed as much a prisoner as the people he guarded.
The officer had unexpectedly invited Benzi to share a meal with him, and Benzi had accepted, unsure of how to refuse without offending the man. The invitation included Te-yu, who had come along so that Benzi would not have to endure Keir's company alone.
The small table in Keir's room was laden with fresh vegetables and melons appropriated from supplies sent to the camp, whose people could survive on minimal allotments. Many of the Guardians were not above trading the food to inmates for favors. The would-be emigrants were in no position to complain, and records would show that the provisions had reached the camp safely.
Benzi was expecting Keir to ask him about his conversation with Malik Haddad; he had prepared an innocuous story about their talk. Instead, the officer was droning on about his home near Odessa and his hopes for his next assignment. Te-yu's face was calm, her eyes blank, her lips curved in a half-smile; Benzi saw that she was profoundly bored.
Keir got up, rummaged among some belongings on a shelf, and pulled out a bottle. He waved it at Te-yu's cup as he sat down again. "We aren't supposed to drink here," Keir said, "but I've got a little trade going with a village nearby, and I don't see the harm in a bit of refreshment." He motioned at the cup once more.
"No, thank you," Te-yu said.
"Habbers don't drink?"
"Some do and some don't," Benzi replied. "We generally prefer to keep our minds clear." Keir Renin would be expecting such haughty remarks from a Habber, and Benzi could not resist making them. "I'll try some, though."
Keir poured some of the liquor into Benzi's cup. "I had some schooling, you know," the officer said, "but I wasn't chosen for advanced education." His Anglaic was fluent enough, but he lingered a bit over longer words, drawing out each syllable. "My Counselor sort of suggested that I try the Guardians, and after I thought about it, it seemed like a good idea. They sent me to Baghdad for officers' training. I've been a Guardian for twenty years, and this is the first time I've had my own command." He gulped down some liquor, then folded his arms across his broad chest. "I keep hoping they'll send me for Linker training, make a Commander out of me."
"Well, maybe they will," Benzi said politely, although that seemed a goal beyond Keir's reach.
"I doubt it. You can't show what you're made of here. They give two kinds this post — young ones who look promising and older ones they can't find anything else for. The young ones get a little experience, and the older ones just mark time. A lot of people don't like Guardians, you know. They think of the few times we've had to be harsh and forget about what we do most of the time, when we just keep order and repair the old weapons systems in orbit. Maybe they ought to think about what it used to be like a long time ago, when you had one army here and another there and everyone could get dragged into the fight. They're a lot better off now."
"Indeed," Benzi replied. "The Mukhtars could hardly maintain their control without your services."
Keir's broad, ruddy face brightened, as though Benzi had complimented him. "True enough," he said, "and some of the Commanders think it might be time for the Mukhtars to pay more attention to their views. Sometimes the Mukhtars wait just a little too long before doing what has to be done. The people here — they think things'll be different on Venus. They'll see what it's like when we —" He leaned back and took another drink.
Benzi was silent. Any political struggle among Mukhtars and Guardians would distract Earth's attention from the Project, and that might be to the Cytherians' benefit — unless, of course, the Guardians won. That was a troubling thought.
"Did you have a nice chat with that man from the camp?" the officer asked suddenly.
"I'm afraid it wasn't very informative. As you might guess, he wasn't anxious to say much to me. In fact, he seemed to resent the imposition. I was foolish to think he wouldn't."
"You two aren't so bad," Keir said expansively. "But you're not like a lot of Habbers, are you? Maybe you're a little homesick, and that's why you're here. Anybody can make a mistake, but sometimes there's a chance to make up for it. You two might like to see your old homes and the people you left behind."
He knew about them, then. Benzi kept his composure. Angharad had told him she would mention their conversation to her Counselor; that information might have been passed on and found its way to Keir. His fears faded; the agreement would still protect him.
"Maybe you're not so ready to leave," Keir went on. "I could help you out, or you could deliver your passengers first and then come back. You could keep your Links and tie up with the cyberminds here — you'd do all right for yourselves."
Keir, in the aftermath of such a defection, would certainly do all right for himself; a promotion might be won. Benzi's own fate would be more uncertain. After a flurry of praise for the Habber who had returned, there would probably be interrogations, which would become less gentle when the questioners found out that Benzi could not tell them the sorts of things they would wish to know.
"There's nothing in the agreement that says you can't stay if you choose," the officer said. "In your case, even the Habbers would understand if you did. I'll tell you something, Benzi. You'd be smart to come back to us while you can. Things are changing here, and Guardians will have more to say about what happens later on."
"You'll still need Habber help on Venus," Te-yu said softly.
"Maybe the people there won't always welcome you," Keir replied. "A lot of them don't particularly like you as it is. I'd rather see that Project rot than stand by and let Habbers treat it as if it's theirs, but we've put too much into it to abandon it now. It'll continue, but on our terms. If progress slows a little, the settlers will live with that — they'll learn their world still belongs to Earth."
Benzi was repelled by the man's pride and resentments. Keir reminded him of everything he had wanted to escape.
"We're only too aware that the Project is Earth's accomplishment," Benzi said carefully. "It's not a venture that the Associated Habitats would have chosen, believing as we do that our future doesn't lie on the surface of planets, but we can learn a little by contributing in our own small way to its efforts." If, he thought, Earth did not strangle the development of a new culture that might revitalize the two older ones, and if the Habbers did not decide to retreat from the Project.
Venus should have been a world free from the evils of the old. Unlike Earth, its people did not have to build a civilization on the ruins of ancient wars; unlike the Habbers, its settlers would not have to feel guilt about the Earth left behind. Venus could mend the breach between Earth and the Habitats. Benzi had not appreciated that possibility when he had been younger. He had seen only Earth's dead hand clutching the new world, and had dreamed of escaping to the stars. He had convinced himself in time that he might instead find a purpose among the worlds he knew. Now, in Keir Renin's presence, with the memory of Malik's words still fresh, he felt a new quickening of his old dream.
"You'd contribute more by giving up your ties to the Habs," Keir said. "I don't think you'd be here if you didn't miss what you once had. Maybe you left the Islands because you didn't think you'd get a chance to rise, but we could do something about that. We might find a place for you even there."
"I have missed my childhood homes, both here and on the Islands," Benzi said. Keir had become unpredictable; there was no point in provoking him. "Being here has brought back many memories."
"I'll be getting a list of passengers in a day or so." The Guardian toyed with his empty cup. "I guess it would delay things if you didn't make this run, but you'll be coming back, and maybe then —" He lifted his brows.
"I'll definitely give it some thought," Benzi said. The man could fix on that false hope and perhaps leave him alone until he and Te-yu were safely away. He stood up. "Thank you for the dinner. We'll look forward to getting the list."
* * *
"You almost made me think you were considering that ridiculous suggestion," Te-yu said when they were outside. "What a clumsy, obvious man he is."
"Maybe you're underestimating him," Benzi replied. "From his point of view, it's reasonable for him to think I might want to come back. If I don't, he's still given me a warning to pass along to our people. The Guardians must think of Habbers as cowards who will easily retreat if they feel threatened, and they do have evidence for believing that, along with reasons to resent the Mukhtars for making an agreement with us."
"Oh, I understand him. We can still think the way Earthfolk do, can't we? How unlike true Habbers we are."
"Do you know what that man from the camp said today?" Benzi asked. "He wanted to know if there was a way he could get to a Hab, if I could help him. And I had to tell him there wasn't. He said he didn't belong on Venus, and I gave him a lot of stern words about accepting his fate and making the best of it."
"You couldn't have done anything for him," she said, "without violating the agreement."
"Maybe the agreement isn't worth what may happen to that man, and the others with him, if Earth tightens its grip on Venus again. Are they going to labor there just so that Earth can impose its will and take away their dream?"
"It isn't up to us," she said quietly. "It's up to the Cytherians."
"I shouldn't have come here, Te-yu. When I get to Anwara, I'm going back to our Hab. Someone else can ferry all these lost souls."
"I came here only because you did," she murmured, "and yet I'm sorry to hear you say that. It makes me think the ones like Keir Renin will win out in the end."
The warm wind was picking up. It would be fierce before long and howl as the colder winds had howled outside his boyhood home on the North American Plains. He gazed through the darkness at the camp and the small, dim lights that shone against the night.
Five
The announcement came at dawn, before the morning call to prayer. Malik was barely awake when the amplified voice sounded through the camp.
"Line up in front of the south tower," a man's voice droned in Anglaic. "Pack up everything you wish to bring with you in case you do not return to the camp. Say your name clearly as you enter the room. If you are on the list, go directly to the floater cradle. If you are not on the list, return to the camp with your belongings."
Malik sat up quickly, pulled on his clothes, then began to pack his things. The announcement was being repeated; by the time he opened his blanket-curtain, the other men were already leaving the yurt.
Nikolai caught Malik's arm as he emerged. "Better take a piss first," he said. "We'll be standing on that line for a while."
Malik followed the other men toward the lavatory. "Why do they want us to bring our packs? Surely everyone can't be on the list."
Nikolai sighed. "Because if you're picked, they don't want you coming back here to collect your things. Some who aren't picked could get a little nasty with the ones who are, and they want to make sure there's no trouble."
"I shouldn't think there'd be any point in having me wait on the line," Malik said. "I haven't been here very long, so it isn't likely I'd be selected."
"It doesn't matter — everyone's got to line up. I waited on a line like that a week after I got here."
The men's section of the lavatory was crowded. The sky was lighter when Malik came back outside; a large shadow moved toward him over the ground. He looked up. A floater was overhead, moving slowly above the camp; he could see the airship's cabin clearly. As he came to open ground, he saw that the Guardians were already taking up positions by the posts.
The line was long; at least three hundred of the two thousand inmates were already waiting. A few were couples who held hands or clung to each other; most had their heads down, refusing to look at those nearest them. In the distance, a small figure left the tower and began to walk in the direction of the floater cradle.
"Someone got lucky," Nikolai muttered.
Malik lowered his eyes and stared at his feet. Nikolai had been here longer than anyone; that had to mean his chance of being chosen was greater than Malik's. Perhaps some of the young Russian's friends would be picked as well. Malik was beginning to dread returning to the yurt. Nikolai had mocked him but more gently than the others had; he had spoken up for Malik when his friends began to press for more details of the conversation with the Habber pilot. He wondered what his days would be like if Nikolai were no longer there to ease life a little for him.