Venus of Dreams (48 page)

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Authors: Pamela Sargent

BOOK: Venus of Dreams
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The entrance yawned open. Chen pulled himself inside; the door closed as air cycled into the lock. As the inner door opened, Chen entered a small room where five other workers sat in front of consoles; one of the women glanced up at him as he removed his helmet.

"It'll do for now," Chen said to her, "but we've got to get a new panel of components in there soon." The woman shook her head; he wasn't telling her anything she did not know. He had replaced the failed component with a slightly damaged but still usable panel, one he had repaired himself. "The Administrators ought to be tougher with Earth. They want to push everything to its limit, but it'd cost them even more if—"

The woman had a funny look on her freckled face; her blue eyes stared blankly at him. "Hey, Simone," he said, "what's the matter?"

"You better talk to them." Simone's head jerked toward the entrance behind her.

Wu Fei-lin and Tonie Wong were standing just inside the door. Chen made his way toward them, still holding his helmet. Tonie suddenly covered her mouth; Fei-lin was staring at him with small, sad eyes.

"They sent us to tell you," Fei-lin said as he took Chen's helmet. "Maybe a Counselor thought you should hear it from a friend. An airship—an airship's falling toward the surface. The Islands are tracking it, but I don't know what they can do." Tonie gripped Chen's hand. "Iris is on the ship," Fei-lin continued. "So is Benzi."

Chen staggered a bit; Fei-lin caught him. He drew in his breath in short, sharp gasps as his friends helped him out of his suit. "Their helium cell's damaged," Tonie said. "They won't be able to—"

Chen covered his face as Tonie and Fei-lin held him. "They're still alive," he muttered. "They're still alive" He would know if Iris were dead; he would feel it.

"Oh, Chen," Tonie said softly. "I'm so sorry."

He found himself remembering the moment, nearly ten years ago, when Fei-lin and Tonie had made their pledge at last. Chen had been Fei-lin's witness; he had asked Iris to attend the ceremony with him, though he had expected her to make some acid remark about people who had faith in such bonds. Surprisingly, Iris had seemed moved by the ceremony, and afterward had joined the celebration. They had all drunk too much; Tonie had babbled about how everything had turned out for the best and how lucky they all were to have found out who they really loved. Iris had come to Chen's room later; it had been one of their better times and, for that brief moment, Chen had believed that they might draw together once more.

But Iris had not come back to him, and now he would lose his son as well. He suddenly hated the pilots who had lured Benzi to their work and to his end.

A Counselor would mourn with him, but the Counselor would also point out how many lives the Project had claimed. The Counselor would say that Iris and Benzi would not be forgotten, but Chen knew that their memories would grow dimmer even in the minds of their friends. The Counselor would tell him that his bondmate and son would want Chen to go on with his work.

"They'll have to be rescued," Chen said as he withdrew from his friends' arms and straightened. "They must be finding some way to get to them."

"I don't know," Fei-lin replied. "The Islands haven't said—"

"Let's go." Chen palmed open the door and entered the lift; after a moment, Tonie and Fei-lin followed. His head swam as the lift whisked him up past the docks; his ears throbbed. When the lift came to a stop, Chen stumbled out and raced through the curving corridor, then halted in front of one door, pressed his palm against it, and entered.

As he had expected, the small room where the Bat workers dined was crowded with people waiting to offer their sympathies. They would try to console him and soothe his grief; a few might sit with him around his bunk later and wait for him to pour out his heart to them. Someone else would take over his shift and arrangements would be made to have him sent back to the Islands. Eventually, he would be expected to go on, to put his grief behind him, to accept what was unacceptable.

He looked around the room as Fei-lin came up to his side. Most of the people there were wearing the gray garments of workers, but in one corner, he saw that a few blue-clad pilots had joined the group. Benzi was a pilot; they were probably mourning the loss of one of their number. On the wall screen behind the pilots, a woman was speaking; Chen tried to concentrate on her words.

The ship was down in the Maxwell Mountain region. They were calling to the ship, but had had no response from Hong Te-yu, the pilot, or anyone else. The ship had jettisoned its helium, and was trapped. They did not know how much damage the ship's cabin had sustained, or even whether anyone aboard was still alive. The feasibility of a rescue attempt was being studied. The woman on the screen recited these facts in a toneless voice; the screen winked out. Several people in the room let out a sigh.

Hands stretched out to him; Chen waved them away, and then saw that Rose Milon was sitting at one table. The head of the Bat's engineering team had come to offer her condolences. Chen elbowed his way toward the gray-haired woman.

"What are they going to do?" he burst out.

"They're trying to decide. Please, sit down if you like."

Chen remained on his feet. "My bondmate and my son are down there. The longer they take to decide, the more danger they're in."

Rose gazed at him solemnly. "We don't even know if they've survived. You can't expect—"

Chen leaned on the table and thrust his face close to hers. "I can expect more than this."

"This isn't our decision," Rose replied. "It's up to the Island Administrators to consider all factors and—"

"Damn it, Rose. Why do we have to wait for them?"

A few people nearby murmured to one another. An idea was forming in Chen's mind; he had no time to examine it or to consider whether or not it would work. "We have automatic ships," he heard himself say. "Every one of them's been to the surface thousands of times. We could set a new course for one, send it down near where the ship is. The scoop that usually carries the oxygen tanks could bring the ship up again."

"And just how do you think the downed ship's going to get to the scoop? What if its treads were damaged in the landing? What if the ship's sensors are out? They might not even know a ship's landed, or be able to get a fix on where it is. And their comm's dead." Rose glared at him. "You have to face it, Chen. The passengers might be dead too. We can't take useless risks."

"It wouldn't work anyway," a man said. Chen stood up; one of the pilots had come over to Rose's table. "Those ships are set on one course, down to the pole and back. Sure, we can punch in a new flight path, but you'd have a better chance if you also had a pilot aboard, someone who could operate the ship manually and bring it down as close as possible." The tall, thin pilot paused for a moment. "This isn't just crating oxygen tanks up, you know. You'd need someone aboard in case a problem came up."

"We can't risk a pilot," Rose said firmly.

"Then I'll have to go with the ship," Chen responded. It had come to this; he would have to face his fear of descending through those thick, dark clouds to that deadly surface at last. He pushed his fear aside as he thought of Iris and Benzi; his fear for them was greater than his fear for himself. "The pilot who's down there with my bondmate and son let me use her simulator a couple of times. I know a little about piloting."

The tall pilot near him shook his head; his thin lips curled. "Don't be a fool, man. There's a difference between simulations and running a ship. You wouldn't be safe alone."

"I'll take the chance."

"No you won't." The pilot lifted one dark brow. "I'll take the chance, though. You can come along for the ride, if you want. Might be wise to have someone like you aboard just in case we need some minor repairs on the way. We aren't going to have time to give the ship a thorough check."

Chen gaped at the man. "But this isn't your concern."

"There's two pilots down there. That's my concern."

Rose slammed a fist against the tabletop. "You're both mad. We can't allow this. The Administrators have to decide if it's worth the risk. What do you think they're going to say if we lose one of our own ships? They have enough trouble getting us what we need here. How are they going to explain it to Earth?"

"We're wasting time," the pilot answered. His hand gripped Chen's shoulder. "I say we suit up and get out of here while there's still a chance of reaching them in time."

"I can't allow that," Rose cried. The others in the room had backed away from the table, as if reluctant to interfere. "The least you can do is call the Islands and tell them your plan, let them decide if it's worth trying."

"There's no time for that," Chen replied. If the Island Administrators heard of this scheme, they were likely to order them not to try it. The others here, whatever their feelings, would then do their best to restrain them, and he could not fight them all. "I'll take the blame."

Rose's face was livid. "I'll have to save you from yourself, then," she said. "I'll alert everyone on the Bat. You won't get near a ship." She jumped to her feet and turned in the direction of the screen. Fei-lin leaped forward and grabbed her arm. Rose swung at him as Tonie locked her arms around Rose's waist. "Do something!" the engineer screamed at the other workers. No one moved; Chen saw that most of the people were on his side.

"Come on," the pilot said. Chen followed him as the two men pushed through the crowd to the door and entered the corridor. "This plan of yours had better work," the tall man muttered as they hurried down the hall. "If it doesn't, a lot of people in there are going to be in trouble. I bet old Rose is already noting names for reprimands."

"If it doesn't work, we'll have troubles of our own," Chen said.

The pilot slapped a door; they entered a lift. "Someone in there's going to start thinking about what a reprimand could mean," the pilot said, "and then they'll send out a call. Better hope we can get to a ship before that happens."

The lift hummed as they dropped toward the docks.

 

"Iris," Benzi said, "there's something you should probably know."

Iris turned her head toward her son. "What is it?"

"Te-yu and I—we and some others—we've been—"

"Why speak of that?" Te-yu interrupted.

"Why shouldn't we be honest now?" Benzi said. "We're not going to get out of here, Te-yu. It doesn't matter what we say."

"If it doesn't matter, then we might as well keep silent. Sharing any burdens our consciences carry isn't going to make it easier to die." Te-yu rested one hand against her harness. "We still have a chance. We can't give up hope."

Iris was silent. What could her son want to tell her? That he might have wanted to seek training as a torchship pilot, that he might have eventually tried to leave the Islands for that sort of life? She had often suspected that he harbored such a desire, though she had tried to deny it and had never mentioned her suspicions to Chen.

Benzi leaned over the dead comm. "Too bad Chen isn't here," he said. "Maybe he'd know how to get that thing working."

The ship suddenly shifted under them, rocking Iris against the right side of her seat. "Harnesses!" Te-yu cried. Iris pushed the button on her armrest; the straps of the harness snaked around her. The ship bounced, then rolled sharply to one side; Iris hung upside down from her harness for a long moment before the ship rolled again, then righted itself.

They were now leaning sharply to the right. "Are you all right?" Iris heard the pilot say.

"Still here," Benzi replied.

"I'm all right," Iris said. She gazed at the small screens in front of her; at least most of the sensors still seemed to be working. One screen showed the position of their cabin; they were sitting on the edge of a rise, with a steep slope just below them. Part of their right tread was no longer touching ground; if the craft shifted again, they would be hurled down the slope. Iris shuddered and turned away from the screen's diagram.

"Guess we've got more troubles," Te-yu said in a strained voice.

"They've had time to do something by now," Benzi said angrily.

Iris sniffed. A pungent eggy odor reached her nostrils. "The air," she murmured. "It smells rotten, it smells like—"

"Get on your helmets," Te-yu ordered. "Something's wrong with the air, and it looks like the ship's alarm's out too. And be careful how you move."

Iris grimaced as she released her harness slowly and crept to the side where their helmets had been thrown.

 

A voice over the comm was still speaking. "We advise you to return to the Bat as soon as possible. The Island Administrators—"

The pilot next to Chen slapped the switch under the comm, silencing the voice. He had waited until the scooper ship was in orbit before beginning to program its path; it had been important to get out of the dock first, before they could be restrained. Chen adjusted a weak component, then slipped it back into the panel in front of him. He had hurried back to the lower dock level to fetch his tools, but there had been no time to check out the ship thoroughly.

Now that he could not turn back, he was wondering if he had acted too hastily. Maybe the Administrators would have agreed to his plan. It didn't matter. Iris's ship had been on the surface for almost four hours now. Had it been undamaged, it would have been safe for a few hours longer at least, but he suspected that its systems were badly crippled.

The workers in the bay had not tried to stop Chen and the pilot from taking the ship, and that had surprised him. He tried to imagine Rose issuing reprimands to everyone on the Bat, and almost laughed.

The pilot gazed solemnly at his panels and small screens; above them, the larger screen was black. "Ought to introduce myself," the pilot said as he rubbed at the band around his head. "Michael Anastas."

"Liang Chen."

"I know who you are. I know your son. I'm a friend of Hong Te-yu's also."

Chen gestured at the ship's controls.

"It's all right," Michael said. "It's piloting itself. Course is set—just have to nurse it along when we're close to landing. Winds up here don't barrel along the way they do at the equator and thereabouts, so entering the atmosphere shouldn't—"

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