Authors: Pamela Sargent
"We need all kinds of knowledge," he replied. "If he was a Linker, he'd know more than any of the teachers we've had here — we wouldn't find anyone else with his training so easily."
"A historian," she said mockingly. "What use is that?"
"We'll have our own history. We'll need people to remember it. The children here should have a chance to learn everything they can, even if they don't use much of it." He paused. "There's something else. It'll be simpler for him to live in this dome if he's going to teach at our school, and we have the space now that Noella's moved out. She and Theron would take him in if they had the room, but — I spoke to Tina and Paul. They've agreed to let him stay here, in Noella's old room."
"Here?" She shook her head. "What use can he be to us? We need someone to help with the household work."
"When he's been here a while, he can find somewhere else to live. I'll have to add a room anyway, now that Grazie's pregnant, and this Malik might be able to help with some of that work."
"I doubt that very much," Risa said. "If he was a Linker, he probably didn't dirty his hands too often." Chen had not even asked about the immigrant's more useful skills; he was simply enthralled with the notion of having a scholar in his household, a man with the learning Chen so prized.
"Malik Haddad will be here tomorrow," her father said. "I hope you'll agree with my decision and bring him here."
"He was a Linker. He might find our home a bit beneath him."
"He'll find it more comfortable than living in a tent near the bay and having to walk all that distance to our school."
She would have to agree; she had no real reason to refuse. It occurred to her that she would now have an excuse to turn Evar away when he arrived, one that even he would have to accept. "Very well," she said.
"I kept a record of Benzi's talk with me. He was sorry he couldn't talk to you, but you can view it if you like. He spoke to your grandmother when he was on Earth. You might like to hear about their talk."
"No." Her grandmother was only a distant image, and Benzi was even less than that; she preferred to keep it that way. Her own life was here, among her people, where the past did not matter.
Seven
Nikolai was saying farewell to Bogdan, Malik stood to one side as the two men embraced, then wished each other well in Russian. Nikolai stepped back; Malik clasped Bogdan's hands.
"Good luck," Malik said.
Bogdan smiled weakly. "They say you make your own luck here," the young man replied. "Mtshana. I wonder what that settlement is like." He embraced Nikolai again, then walked toward the group waiting with a Guardian by the door.
Malik and Nikolai sat down again. After arriving at the Platform, they and the others from the camp had been led to a small room adjoining one of the airship bays. Every hour or so, a Guardian had appeared to read off a list of names and then the settlement that was their destination; groups had already left for Hasseen, Kepler, Curie, and ibn-Qurrah.
The ten settlements on the surface had been named for scientists of the past, but Malik doubted that his fellow immigrants were aware of their contributions. They would not know or care about al-Khwarizmi's contributions to astronomy and algebra during the first flowering of Islamic civilization. That Tsou Yen's elemental theories, developed nearly three thousand years ago, had laid the foundations of Chinese scientific thought would be a matter of indifference to the people around him. Malik had not bothered to tell Bogdan that his new home bore the name of a man whose biological work was partly responsible for the algae used in seeding the Venusian atmosphere. The names would evoke no historical musings on the part of these settlers; they were only places where a new life would be made apart from the past.
Now, except for three women who had pointedly ignored Nikolai's efforts at conversation, the two men were alone. Nikolai leaned back and folded his arms. "Guess it doesn't much matter where we end up," he murmured. "One place must be a lot like another." He closed his eyes.
They had been revived when the Habber ship docked at Anwara. Malik, like most of the others, woke with stiff muscles and a headache knifing through his skull. Anwara was three circular tubes that turned slowly around the hub where the ship had docked. When the passengers were able to move, they were conveyed by smaller vessels to Anwara's inner circle. There, a man had raced through a short speech of welcome before a few Guardians herded them to the shuttle that would carry them to the Platform. On the shuttle's screens, Malik had looked toward the planet thirty thousand kilometers away, but had seen only darkness under the bright curving crescent of the Parasol.
He glanced at the clock on the wall; he had been in this room for six hours now. The room's foodmat had given him some bread and dried fruit, and he had relieved himself in a nearby lavatory, but had not yet had a chance to remove the stubble from his face.
The door to the room opened; a female Guardian entered with a pocket screen. Malik nudged Nikolai awake as the Guardian read off three unfamiliar names and finally their own. "You'll be going to Oberg," the Guardian said. "That's not a bad place to get started."
"Why is that?" one of the women asked.
"Oberg was the first place to get settlers," the Guardian replied. "It's got more people than most of the other domed settlements, and it's kind of a center — the other nine settlements almost see it as a kind of capital."
"Lucky us," Nikolai whispered. Malik was relieved that he and Nikolai would not be separated.
The Guardian frowned at the screen. "You — Malik Haddad." She looked from Nikolai to Malik. "Do you have family or friends here?" Malik shook his head. "Well, somebody's requested you by name. That doesn't usually happen. Normally, people just get sent to where their particular skills are needed."
The women's eyes narrowed; even Nikolai seemed a bit suspicious. "I can't imagine why anyone would ask specifically for me," Malik said. "I have no connections here."
"Let's hope you can all adapt nicely." The Guardian smiled a little. "It gets to some people, being under a dome all the time — they get to feeling trapped. I've heard of a few people going to pilots and begging to be taken away."
Nikolai stood up. "That won't happen to me," he said. "I'll just remember that I finally got away from Earth."
The remark wasn't one to make to a Guardian, but she seemed indifferent to it. "Your airship leaves in half an hour," she said at last. "I'll take you to the bay."
* * *
Malik, overcome by fatigue, dozed during the airship's descent to Oberg. He awoke when Nikolai poked his arm. "We're here." The other man sounded a bit apprehensive.
Their fellow passengers were already leaving the cabin. The two men shouldered their packs and followed the others down the ramp into the large bay. Mechanics and workers ignored the new arrivals. When they reached the wide door that led into the dome, Nikolai beckoned to a gray-clad man. "Where are we supposed to go?" he called out.
"Inside and sit down near the door. Somebody'll meet you and tell you what to do."
The group left the bay. A disk of light floated far above them; a wide halo of paler light surrounded the disk before fading into blackness.
"God be praised," one of the women muttered as she gazed at the grassy land beyond the door. "We could almost be on Earth."
Malik wasn't sure he agreed. Oberg, with its cluster of buildings under the disk and small houses that dotted the landscape, might look like a town on Earth, but it did not feel like one. The warm air was thick with the odors of plant life and so still that he found himself longing for a breeze. He felt as though he were enclosed in a terrarium. He glanced toward the low wall that circled the settlement and could see only darkness through the transparent dome above the wall.
A tall blond woman approached them. "You three," she said to the women, "come with me. We'll find a place to pitch your tents, and then I'll show you where you'll be working." She led them toward the small plain of tents ahead.
Nikolai took off his pack and sat down. "I hope we won't be living here too long."
Malik seated himself next to him. A cart carrying cargo and two men rolled by along a roadway; a few workers leaving the bay ignored the seated men. He was beginning to wonder how welcome they would be. A man in a red and black sash standing near the tents caught sight of them, then hurried over.
"Welcome to Oberg," the man said as he approached; his round, dark face bore a broad smile. "When you've rested from your journey, I hope we'll have a chance to meet again. I'm a member of Ishtar, and we'll do our best to make you feel at home." Nikolai was about to rise; the man motioned to him to stay seated. "We'll be having another meeting in two days, just after last light, and I know you'll be interested in what our Guide, Kichi Timsen, has to say. Anyone can tell you how to get to her house, and I hope I'll see you there. By the way, my name's Ilom Baraka."
"What's Ishtar?" Nikolai asked, not bothering to introduce himself.
"A fellowship of those who reach out to the Spirit of this world, and who strive to be true Cytherians," Ilom replied. "We welcome all who wish to be our brothers and sisters."
Nikolai rolled his eyes. A pale young man was coming toward them now; Ilom's smile faded. "Any questions you have will be answered at the meeting," Ilom said quickly. "Farewell." He hurried away.
"Which one of you is Nikolai Burian?" the pale young man asked.
"I am," Nikolai replied.
"That fellow must have been telling you about Ishtar. Don't pay any attention."
"I didn't plan to," Nikolai responded.
"I'm Jed Severson." The man shook back his blond hair. "Your record says you worked in a greenhouse and that you're also trained in airship repairs and maintenance."
Nikolai nodded. This was a revelation to Malik; the young Russian had never mentioned his past.
"That's good," Jed Severson said. "The more skills you have, the better. You'll be working with my team in the bay, and you can earn extra credit if they need someone in the community greenhouses. After you've been here a while, you can find a household to give you a room, but for now, you'll be over here." He waved at the tents behind him. "That building back there is the pilots' dormitory — you can use their foodmats and lavatory."
Jed thrust his hands into his pockets. "I hope you're not troublemakers." He turned toward Nikolai. "I didn't see anything on your record that says you are, but I'll give you some advice. We don't have Guardians here on the surface, and we've never needed police. We don't much care to consult Counselors. The Oberg Council can handle disputes, but most people would rather settle them by themselves instead of asking for a public hearing, because the Council can be pretty quick with fines and reprimands."
"Fines and reprimands?" Nikolai shrugged. "Doesn't sound like too bad a punishment."
"Get enough reprimands, and people start treating you differently. That may not sound like much, but it can get to you in a community this size, with only about ten thousand people so far. We have to trust each other. When you lose that trust, it's hard to get it back. A reputation means something here."
"I lived in a small village," Nikolai said. "I know what that can be like."
"Make friends," Jed said, "and keep out of trouble. I wouldn't have to tell you this if you'd been picked by the Project Council or were one of those dreamy Institute graduates, but you came here from a camp."
"I thought," Nikolai muttered, "that we were all the same here."
"Oh, we are." Jed's mouth twisted. "But some think the Nomarchies are a little too free with dumping your sort here. You weren't born here, and you weren't chosen. You're here because Earth doesn't mind getting rid of you, we can use you, and you don't have anyplace else to go."
Nikolai got to his feet. "Where do I go now?"
"You can pitch your tent any time. You're free to wander around and get the feel of the place. Come to the bay tomorrow at eight, about an hour after first light — I'll meet you there."
A young woman was crossing the roadway; Jed turned to greet her. "Risa! What brings you here?"
"I'm supposed to meet an immigrant." She halted in front of Nikolai. "Malik Haddad?"
Malik stood up and touched his forehead. "I'm Malik Haddad."
"I'm Risa Liangharad."
Malik raised a brow, surprised. Benzi had briefly mentioned a sister, but it seemed an unlikely coincidence that this woman, of all people, should have come here for him. She was short, with wavy shoulder-length dark hair and a sturdy, compact body clothed in a brown shirt and pants. She resembled her Habber brother, but her brown eyes were larger than Benzi's and her cheekbones attractively broad; she was, in fact, quite pretty.
"You're not what I expected," she said in a flat voice, Her gaze was direct but cold, as if she was sure of her own position and accustomed to the respect of others.
"What did you expect?" he asked lightly, assessing her, looking for a glance or gesture that might betray some interest in him.
She continued to stare, and he could not discern even a faint gleam of interest. "Someone a little more scholarly looking, I suppose. We need a teacher in the west dome's school. That's why we requested you. You'll be living with my household."
She was assessing him, Malik realized, and she didn't look terribly pleased. He thought of how he must appear, with his unkempt hair, worn clothes, and stubbled face.
"Fortunate for you," Jed murmured, "getting a room to live in right away, and with a future Council member, too,"
Risa's eyes shifted toward the blond man. "I'm not on the Council yet."
"You will be. Everyone says so."
"We'll see." She waved a hand at Malik. "You look as though you could use a bath and a meal. I hope you're not too tired to walk."
"I slept on the airship."
"I've got to get back to work," Jed said to Nikolai. "I'll see you tomorrow."
As Jed wandered toward the bay, Nikolai hoisted his pack. "He told me I have the rest of the day to myself," he said. "Do you mind if I come along with my friend here? I'd like to spend the time finding out more about Oberg."