Authors: Pamela Sargent
"You think your chances will be better than ours," a bearded man said.
"I have less of a chance. They need willing workers there more than they need my kind."
"I'm still puzzled," the black-eyed young woman said. "It seems —"
The young man gestured angrily. "Don't speak to him."
"I'll speak if I wish, Alexei." The woman turned back to Malik. "I am Yekaterina Osipova, and this man who thinks he can speak for me is my younger brother, Alexei Osipov." The blond man scowled but was silent. "I would hear more of your story, should you wish to tell it."
"Our pasts don't matter now," another woman muttered.
"Unless we find out more about this man," Yekaterina replied, "we won't be able to trust him. Do you think we can build a new world on suspicion?"
Her words were sincere, but Malik supposed that the Guardians had planted a few spies among the hopeful settlers in the camp that was this group's destination. That was one of the reasons for allowing such camps.
"My name is Malik Haddad," he said. "I was a professor at the University of Amman, but I also had an uncle who was close to the Council of Mukhtars. He had hopes of rising to a place on the Council and of one day giving me a position on his staff."
Alexei's green eyes narrowed. "Then you had even more than I thought."
"My uncle's ambitions weren't mine," Malik responded. "I was happy teaching history and doing my writing. It's true that my uncle's position smoothed my path, but it was my own work that won me my place. Some had questions about what I said and wrote. That didn't matter until my uncle lost favor with those who now have more power among the Mukhtars. My uncle, you see, was close to those who forced Abdullah Heikal from the Council twenty-six years ago."
His companions stared at him blankly. Most of them, he realized, were probably illiterates who had only the sketchiest knowledge of past events.
"In 568," Malik continued, "you may recall that Earth had to punish an Administrator on Venus's Islands who had allied himself with Habbers in order to seize power over the Project for himself."
"My parents told me the story," one man said. "I hadn't yet been born. They said nobody here really knew much about what happened until it was over."
"I'm not sure I understand it all now," a woman added. "I know Earth sent Guardian ships to blockade the Islands until that Linker gave himself up, and that some Islanders died in a surface explosion when they —"
"Perhaps I may tell you about it," Malik said. "I have some knowledge of those events, and those who hope to be settlers should be familiar with them."
The group gazed at him passively, apparently willing to listen if only to pass the time. He had seen a similar look on the faces of a few of his students. "I should begin by reminding you of an earlier incident in 555, since it's connected to what followed. A small group of pilots, dissatisfied with their lot on the Islands, managed to board a shuttlecraft and fled to the nearest Habitat. Naturally, the Project could not ignore such an act of betrayal — those pilots, dreaming of an easier life among Habbers, had betrayed Earth's greatest effort. The Habbers refused to return them, arguing that they had always accepted any who wished to join them, so most of the Habbers remaining on the Islands were forced to leave, and a Guardian force was stationed there to reassert Earth's rightful authority."
"I think I heard about them," a man muttered. "But what does that have to do with the blockade?"
"Pavel Gvishiani, the most powerful of the Island Administrators, had ambitions of his own. He believed that, with the Habbers as allies, he could wrest control of the Project for himself and become its sole ruler. Naturally, his ambitions suffered a setback when most of the Habbers working with the Project left and Guardians arrived." Better, Malik thought, to give the official version of events. "But Linker Pavel plotted with the Guardian Commander there, won her support, and brought more Habbers back to the Islands. It was a blatantly rebellious act. He'd totally ignored the Project Council's authority by taking such action on his own."
"So Earth blockaded the Islands," a woman said.
Malik nodded. "The people there were cut off from the outside and warned to surrender. With Earth's ships in orbit, any shuttle leaving or arriving at the Island port called the Platform could be disabled or destroyed. The Islanders had the use of only their airships after that, which, as you all know, are useless for travel through space. Earth might have attacked, but the Mukhtars, in their wisdom, knew that damaging or destroying the Islands would set the Project back for decades, maybe longer. They were also compassionate enough not to want a battle that would take many lives."
"And the Mukhtars are so kind," one young man said with a sneer.
"The Islanders knew they couldn't resist a blockade indefinitely," Malik went on, "and the Habbers were making no move against Earth's ships, even though some of their own people were still on the Islands."
"That's because Habbers are cowards," someone whispered.
Malik ignored the remark. "Then a small group of Islanders decided to take matters into their own hands. They made plans to board an airship, seize part of the Platform, plant explosive devices, and threaten the entire port with destruction if Earth didn't back down. You can understand how serious a threat that would have been. Earth would have lost everything the Mukhtars were trying to regain."
The plan, considered objectively, had not been so foolish, however insane it appeared. The Islands drifted slowly around the planet in the thin upper atmosphere of Venus, nearly one hundred and forty kilometers above the surface. The location offered certain advantages. The Islands were held by Venus's gravity and were at a safe distance from the fierce winds that still raged below; the atmosphere also provided some protection against meteor strikes. But the protective domes enclosing the ten Islands made it impossible for shuttlecraft to land there. Helium-filled dirigibles were the only vehicles that could land in the Island bays; the Platform, an eleventh Island without a dome, was the port for the shuttles carrying supplies from Anwara and the dirigibles that conveyed cargo and passengers to the other Islands.
Had the port been seized, all of the Islands would have been hostage; Earth would have had either to retreat or to see the Platform destroyed. The Islands, with their thousands of trained specialists and workers, would have been completely isolated from the outside until a new port could be built, and that wouldn't have happened in time to save those Islanders. The Project would have been set back indefinitely. The Mukhtars, after investing so much in Venus, might never have made up for that loss.
"But those people never got to the Platform," Yekaterina said.
"No, they didn't. A worker named — named —" Malik had to think for a moment before coming up with the name. "It was Liang Chen, I believe," he said at last. "This man found out about the plan, and the personnel on the Platform were warned not to allow a landing there. Unfortunately, Liang Chen himself was taken prisoner by the plotters, who immediately headed for the surface when they learned they wouldn't be able to land their airship, with its cargo of explosive devices, on the Platform. They managed to get to one of the three domes the Project had built in the Maxwell Mountains. The dome wasn't yet habitable, but several specialists were working there, housed in a shelter inside. The plotters took them prisoner and said they would blow up the dome and everyone inside if Earth didn't call off its ships. They wanted what amounted to a declaration of independence from Earth. By this time, Linker Pavel must have seen that he had lost control over his Islanders and that others might also risk such suicidal gestures."
"Did anyone ever use all this in a mind-tour?" a man asked. "Seems to me you could."
"One was being planned," Malik replied. "It's why I became more familiar with the story recently."
"You worked on mind-tours?"
"Not exactly. Few professors bother with such things."
The questioner looked a little disappointed. "At any rate," Malik continued, "two Islanders, a woman named Iris Angharads and a man named Amir Azad, went to Pavel and offered to travel to the surface, hoping that they could persuade the plotters to give up peacefully. Pavel let them go, and the plotters agreed to see them. They did succeed in winning freedom for the specialists being held, but only by taking their place as hostages. Their gesture had a tragic result. When the people holding the dome realized that the Mukhtars would never grant their demands, they set off the explosives. Iris Angharads and Amir Azad died with the plotters."
"How sad," Yekaterina murmured; most of the others looked solemn. Malik had not bothered to mention that some Habbers had been among the hostages in that dome, people who had been working there with the Project specialists. Their deaths might have caused the Habbers, who made a show of avoiding violence, to retreat from the Project for good. Earth had needed an apparent victory over the brief Islander rebellion, after which it could surreptitiously turn to Habbers for aid once again.
There was the true dilemma that had faced the Mukhtars then — not the possible loss of a dome and a few lives but the loss of Habber help. The Project could not have continued without straining Earth's resources to the limit. Discontent would have spread among those on the home world who already resented the Project, thus threatening the power of the Mukhtars and the peace they had maintained. If the Mukhtars gave in to the plotters, they would lose; if they did not, they might lose anyway.
But the Habber hostages had been saved, through the efforts of the unfortunate Iris and Amir; that small act, Malik supposed, had helped to preserve the Project. It had apparently moved the Habbers — who had seen two Islanders sacrifice themselves to save a few of their people — to promise Earth that they would continue to work with the Project if Earth showed mercy to most of the Islanders.
"What about that worker?" a woman asked.
"A pilot who was one of the plotters was holding him aboard the airship in the dome bay," Malik replied. "When she realized that her friends had set their charges, and that the dome was going to be destroyed after all, she decided to save herself instead of joining her companions in death. The airship, with Liang Chen aboard, managed to reach an Island."
"I guess he was a hero, too."
"I don't imagine it gave him much joy," Malik responded. "Iris, the woman who died, was his bondmate."
A woman sighed. Malik wondered if Wadzia Zayed was still working on her mind-tour. No wonder she had wanted to include this part of the Project story; it had so many of the suspenseful and touching elements that would appeal to her prospective audience.
"I think you're all aware of what happened after that," Malik said. "Pavel Gvishiani's Link was taken from him, and he lost his position, but he was allowed to go on laboring for the Project as a humble worker; so Earth showed some mercy." He closed his eyes for a moment; the fate of that man, he knew now, had not been so merciful after all. "His allies among the Habbers were content to let him suffer that fate. Earth allowed the Habbers to come back to work on the Project. We'd learned they were powerless against our might, so there was no need to reject their aid then." Earth had won at least the appearance of a victory.
Alexei's lip curled. "That's not what I've heard," the blond man said. "Some say that, without the Habbers, there wouldn't be more domes on the surface for settlement."
Malik gazed back at Alexei, who had come close to the truth. "We could have gone on without them, but it was thought wiser to let the Habbers make up for the delay that they helped cause. Better to use them in whatever way we could and save more of our resources for Earth itself. The Project is still ours, and the Habbers only tools for us to use."
"Is that why Earth calls on the Habbers and their ships to take us to Venus?" a blue-eyed woman asked.
"Of course," Malik replied. "And it gives Earth a chance to observe the Habbers more closely, learn more about what they might be hiding. We on Earth don't get too many chances to observe them at close range." That was also easier to say than the truth — that Earth needed those ships to transport some of the settlers and that the Habbers could always be blamed if a prospective emigrant was refused passage.
"You're one with many words," Alexei said. "What does all this have to do with you?"
"Some on the Council of Mukhtars thought that Abdullah Heikal had inflamed the situation by sending Guardian ships to blockade the Cytherian Islands instead of trying to reach a resolution more quietly. He and those closest to him were removed from the Council of Mukhtars, and my uncle was among those who forced him to give up his position." Malik had been only four years old at the time, but he could still recall how Muhammad had raged at Abdullah's carelessness. Abdullah's show of force, and the necessity to back down later, had only revealed Earth's weakness to the Habbers.
"I still don't see —" Yekaterina waved a hand. "Why would you be punished for what happened then?"
"Because some close to Abdullah feel he was treated unfairly. His people have more influence now. Abdullah Heikal may never be a Mukhtar again, but he has eyes and ears on the Council, and those who will act for him there. They singled me out, knowing that my disgrace would weaken my uncle even more and shame my family as well. They took what I had written and said, ideas I meant only as speculations, and accused me of harboring dangerous notions. I could no longer teach or write. A Counselor came to speak to me. I saw that it might be better to remove myself entirely from the scene of my disgrace."
"Counselors," a woman said. "They can seem so kind when they're giving their advice, but it's the Nomarchies' interests they think of, not ours."
Malik did not deny the statement. The regional Counselors who advised those in their Nomarchies were there to promote stability and defuse tensions within a community. They consulted with people on every aspect of life, and their advice had nearly the force of law. They granted permission to families who wanted more children, steered people to various jobs, and noticed when a few discontented souls might be better off in a different Nomarchy. In return. Earth's citizens could feel that the Administrative Councils, and the Mukhtars those Councils served, were intimately concerned with their welfare.