Authors: Pamela Sargent
"They must still be needed."
"I don't know what for. They're probably spying on us."
"Anyway, Earth has an agreement. They can't break it."
"The Mukhtars shouldn't have made one. Now, we're stuck." She opened a drawer, then shed her pants. Chen reached over and cupped her small buttocks in his hands. She dropped her clothes inside the drawer, then turned toward him, drawing his hands to her narrow hips.
He had to ask her. "I love you," he said in a low voice, pulling her gently toward him. The words lodged in his throat. She might prefer to leave things as they were; she might not want to make a promise.
"I love you," he said again, brushing his lips against her abdomen as he ran his hands over her smooth skin.
"I love you, Chen," she whispered. "I love you enough to form a bond with you, I think."
He looked up quickly, surprised. "I was—I was going to ask you."
She was smiling; her dark eyes glowed. "Well, why didn't you, then?" Her hand touched his cheek. "I had to say something—I'm really getting tired of waiting. Will you be my bondmate, Chen?"
"You're sure?"
"Oh, Chen. Yes, I want to be your bondmate. I already feel as though I am. How long, then?"
"How long?"
"For how long do you want the bond? Ten years? Fifteen? Twenty might be best if we have children, and I know we both want them. What do you say?" She sat down next to him, circling his waist with her arms.
"As long as you want." For a lifetime, he thought. I want you for as long as we live, I want to be with you when we're old, I want to be at your side when our children become true Cytherians. The words were inside him; why couldn't he say them?
"Always," he said at last.
She loosened his shirt. Her hands were arousing him; he could feel himself growing stiff. "I'd make a lifetime promise," she murmured, "but a Counselor might advise against it. They might say we're too young for that, or that we'd change our minds later—a lifetime bond's the hardest and most expensive to break, and it doesn't look good on your record to make promises you can't keep." She was probably right, but her practicality dismayed him just a little. "Would twenty years do?"
"Yes." He pushed her down gently against the bed and rubbed his thumbs lightly along her nipples. "Soon, before we have to go back to work."
"Oh, I wish I had a silk shirt to wear when we pledge, or a gown, but then we'd have to wait, wouldn't we? I know you'll want Fei-lin to be your witness, and Dorcas can be mine. Do you want to make the pledge in one of the gardens?" She sounded as though she had already given the matter a lot of thought, and seemed as taken with the idea of a ceremony as with the pledge itself.
"It doesn't matter. Whatever you want."
"Of course." She drew his face close to hers. "And after twenty years, we'll form a new bond, I know we will. Oh, Chen."
He rested his head on her shoulder, unable to speak of his happiness. His hands, speaking for him, lingered lovingly on the open cleft between her legs until there was no need for words.
His Counselor summoned him two days later. Chen strode quickly through the curved and empty corridor of the Counselor's more peaceful building, suspecting that she wanted to discuss his pledge with him. He was sure he had nothing to fear from the encounter; at worst, the Counselor might ask them to shorten the duration of the bond and renew the pledge in a few years.
He knew that something was wrong as soon as he entered the Counselor's room. Corazon Delgado was frowning, and a Linker Chen had not seen before was with her.
"Please sit down," she said, gesturing at one of the chairs; Corazon's room was somewhat larger than a worker's quarters. "Liang Chen, this is Ari Isaacson. He just returned from Earth about a month and a half ago, and he's the new head of the Counselor's Committee here."
The stocky Linker nodded at Chen. Ari Isaacson sat with folded legs, as if he were not used to sitting in chairs. Chen seated himself across from the Linker.
"Ari worked with the Project for almost three decades as a physician," Corazon went on, "but it appears that the Nomarchies would now like to make use of his talents in counseling." Her tone was sharp.
Chen looked into the man's gray eyes, wondering what Ari Isaacson could want with him. He was not even sure of how to address the man. When meeting a Linker for the first time, it was polite to use a title, while Counselors, like almost everyone else, insisted on first names. "Greetings, Linker Ari," Chen said, compromising. Even Corazon seemed intimidated by the Linker's presence; she sat stiffly upright in her chair, but her fingers fluttered nervously.
"I was going to speak to you next week," Ari said in a smooth voice, "but events have made it necessary for me to tell you this immediately, and my time is going to be taken up with many more of these little meetings. You see, we're going to prune the work force here a bit. We have people waiting to have children, and that's quite important now, since the time for planning our surface settlements is not far off. We must think of the future. Then, of course, there are the graduates of the Cytherian Institute to consider—of course, many of them will be assigned to Anwara, at least at first, but we need places for them here. Now, there's always attrition—those who can't adjust and want to leave, those who don't do their work well, those lost in unfortunate accidents or who are called to God at the end of their long lives, but we are now compelled to dismiss more people from the Islands."
Chen was very still. He was irritated at the Linker for explaining such obvious matters to him, and also frightened at the man's calm tone.
Ari rested his hands on his knees. "You see, Chen, you're one of the people we've decided to send back."
Chen was silent.
"It may be only for a while," Corazon said hastily. "Work will be found for you on Earth. I know how you must feel, but you'll be first on the list along with anyone else who's worked here when it's time to bring in more workers. You'll have a chance to be part of the Project later."
"If, of course, your work on Earth is satisfactory," Ari added, "as I'm sure it will be."
Chen stared at his Counselor mutely; her black eyes revealed her unhappiness, as if she were feeling his pain as her own. Perhaps she did. Corazon, he knew, had grown up on an Island; her parents and grandparents had worked here.
"I wanted to tell you personally," Ari continued. "I realize that this must come as a surprise. Anyway, we felt that some of you might like the chance to go home, to see old friends and familiar places. The change will do you good."
"I can't go," Chen said at last. "I have an agreement. There's nothing wrong with my work."
"You'd better listen to your agreement again, my boy." Ari's voice was a bit sharper. "There's a clause in it that allows us to send anyone back with cause. You know perfectly well that we don't break agreements, and we have reasons for choosing you to return." Ari's eyes narrowed as he stood up and rubbed his hand over his graying brown hair. "I'll leave you with your Counselor now—you may want to talk. Unless you have any questions for me—" He raised his brows.
"I can't go," Chen repeated. "I'm needed here. It isn't right. You're not doing me a favor—you're punishing me." He swallowed, trying to control himself.
"Be sensible. Others can take up the slack. Really, Chen, I thought I was being considerate in coming to tell you this myself instead of leaving it to Corazon here. Believe me, you'll see that it's for the best." Ari frowned for a moment, as if he regretted bringing this news to Chen, but his frown seemed rehearsed. "You'll be given a good job back home."
Home, Chen thought. This is my home. "And when do I get to come back?" he asked forcefully.
"That I cannot answer." Ari was glowering. "I rather think that's up to you and how you get on, don't you think?" The door opened; the Linker left without waiting for a response.
The door slid shut. Corazon leaned back; her stubby fingers drummed against her armrest. "Bastard," she muttered. "I'll have to go through this with two more people."
"Who?" Chen asked listlessly.
"I really shouldn't tell you. They should hear it from Ari and me. No one you know well, anyway."
Tonie wouldn't be one of them, then. Chen twisted his hands together. "I can't go. Tonie Wong and I were going to become bondmates."
"I heard. That's why you were called in now. I can't tell you what to do about that, but I'd advise against it at this point." Chen grimaced; advice from a Counselor was as good as a command. "You can't be expected to keep such promises when you're separated—one of you would probably want to break the bond sooner or later, and that would be extra trouble and expense you don't need, and a mark against you on your personal record. Of course, Tonie could ask to return with you. That's entirely up to her. I think she might be allowed to go, under the circumstances."
Chen looked down; he couldn't ask Tonie to do that. He recalled Ibrahim's warning. "I'm being punished," he said. "That's what it is, isn't it? I've been too friendly to the Habbers. He could have said it instead of making it seem—"
"Oh, Chen. I wish I could do something for you." Corazon bit her lip. "I'll tell you what Ari thinks. He thinks we forget our duty here, that we already think of ourselves as Cytherians instead of as Earthpeople. He thinks we forget that we're part of the Nomarchies and that Earth still makes the decisions. He even asked me if I might like a trip to Earth. Home, he called it. Home! I've never been there, and he knows it. Earth means nothing to me." She could say that in front of Chen, who knew that he was hardly in a position to repeat it.
Chen swallowed. He couldn't accept this; he would have to fight it. He could appeal to Ari, or to the Administrators themselves through the Workers' Committee; he had the right. But no one would want to argue his case, under the circumstances, and Chen knew that he could never be eloquent enough to argue for himself. He might even ruin any chance of returning by filing a protest. Ari would twist Chen's words, make it seem that he wasn't being punished at all and had no reason for complaining; then, after Chen's appeal was turned down, the rumors would start, and everyone would know why he had been sent away. Rumors were often useful to the Administrators in such cases. Chen would be punished, but no one would ever admit openly that he had been.
"I'll make out a report," Corazon said. "I'll note that you've been a good worker. I'll do everything I can to make sure you return someday. I guess I haven't been a good Counselor to you, Chen, or I would have warned you more forcefully, would have insisted—"
He waited for her to finish the sentence, then realized that even Corazon would not openly admit the truth about his expulsion.
"You mustn't despair," she continued. "Even Ari knows that the good of the Project has to come first, that it makes more sense to bring back experienced workers when we need replacements instead of training new ones. Just do well at whatever job you're given and don't give them anything to hold against you, and you'll come back. You have a lifetime ahead of you—decades."
He was mute, thinking of decades of exile, of waiting. He couldn't bear it.
"Isn't there anything you want to ask me, to tell me? Say what you like, Chen. You know that I have to keep it in confidence."
Chen rose, suddenly suspicious of the Counselor, unable to tell if she was speaking from the heart or only trying to console him as part of her job. "It's all right, Corazon. I just have to get used to the idea."
In the hour before the dome's light began to fade into silver, it was the habit of many of the workers to gather on the grassy expanse in front of the steel-blue building where they lived. Parents knelt beside cloths laden with small bowls of food, feeding their young children with chopsticks, spoons, or fingers; others sat mending clothes as they gossiped. Young couples strolled along the white stone path under the watchful eyes of parents or other adults. A few children sat alone, gazing at the writing on their flat pocket screens; one young girl pointed at the words on her screen as she said them aloud for her proud, beaming mother.
It was easy to tell which workers had only recently arrived on Island Two, for they sat near the entrance to the windowless building, prepared to be the first to find refuge inside. Once during the years Chen had spent on Island Two, the sirens had wailed and the Islanders had run for the nearest buildings, sealing the entrances off and waiting for the repair crew on duty to mend the new puncture a meteorite had made in the dome. Recent arrivals on the Islands often believed that air would rush through such an opening in a great gust, or that the dome might suddenly collapse around them, while in fact a small puncture meant only a slow leak; taking refuge inside a structure was simply an added precaution.
Chen recalled his own fears when he had heard the sirens sound; he had been on Island Two for less than a year, and had even considered returning to Earth. He glanced at the workers near the entrance as he entered the building; these people were hiding their nervousness, but he saw a few cast furtive glances at the diffuse light overhead. Most of them would have liked to trade places with Chen now; in another year or two, they would lose such fears. The Project would claim them, and they would begin to dream.
A few women greeted Chen as he moved through the corridor toward his own room; they smiled as they called out their congratulations on his approaching pledge with Tonie. Olaf slapped Chen on the back as he hastened by. Chen bore all of this passively, wondering how many would still speak to him so readily when they learned that he was going to be sent away. They would all guess the truth about that, no matter what they were told, and draw the proper lesson from his fate.
Tonie was sitting with Dorcas and Catherine in an open doorway. Dorcas giggled as Catherine held up a gauzy, transparent blouse and sheer pair of panties; Catherine's pale cheeks grew pink as she looked up and saw Chen.
"Look what Catherine's giving me," Tonie said.