Venus of Shadows (53 page)

The Habbers might decide to abandon Venus now. They would not force their presence on the settlers, since this would only poison what they hoped to create. He had deluded himself by imagining that he could bring closer ties between Venus and the Habbers. He had deceived himself by hoping that there would be enough time for Earth to understand that the Habitats were not a threat.

This current epidemic might pass, but another might take its place; Ishtar was already incubating the disease. The cult's vision of a perfect society was no more than a longing to embrace the prerational state of mind that had existed long ago. Sigurd did not have to study any sociological projections to guess at how far that contagion might spread now. He had been as careless as anyone else by assuming that the mutated descendants of humankind's biological and ideological past could not thrive here.

*  *  *

A physician named Arne Kenner met Risa outside her house, a female patrol member at his side. He scanned her quickly, then studied his small screen for a long time.

"You're not harboring the virus," he said at last. He stood up and thrust the med-scan console into his bag before pulling out an injector. "Either you weren't exposed or you have a natural immunity." The injector hissed against her upper arm.

She wanted to beg for the rest of her household but forced herself to swallow her words. Alasid had decided that she was one of the essential members of his team; she was being immunized only so she could go to work. Arne Kenner would have other people to see; if all of them wasted his time with useless pleading, that would only delay his progress. Her scan had been negative; maybe that meant that her household was safe.

Both the physician and the woman bore large red stains on their foreheads; the woman pressed a stamp against Risa's skull. "Keep your hair brushed back," she said to Risa. "You want the mark to be seen." The patrol would be able to see at a distance that she was not violating the quarantine.

The two hurried off before she could say anything more.

*  *  *

Risa kept her band on for much of the day, without a break. Her team, during the days following the quake, had spent most of its time repairing minor damage to the bunkers that provided the dome with air. Now a cooling unit was beginning to fail, and there were still rocks and boulders, loosened by the quake, to clear away from the small mines beyond the bunkers.

Alasid tapped her on the shoulder at the end of her shift. She removed her band; two people had already arrived for the darktime shift. "They say that the damned thing can incubate for weeks before symptoms develop," one of the men was saying to the other. "Makes you wonder how many will come down —" His eyes met Risa's. "I'm sorry about your daughter."

She lifted a hand to her throat. "My daughter?"

"Chimene." The man pulled at his red and black sash. "A friend of mine who knows her housemates fairly well got a message earlier. I thought you knew or I wouldn't —"

"Tell me," she whispered.

"Chimene's ill. So is the Guide. They're pretty badly off. I'm sorry —"

She hurried out of the room. As she left the building, she saw a passenger cart, empty now, continuing on its route around the west dome's perimeter. The cart rolled toward the External Operations Center; Risa stepped into the main road. The cart slowed to a halt; she climbed aboard.

Chimene might die. She suddenly regretted all the harsh words that had passed between them; her daughter might die before they could be reconciled. But even that possibility didn't frighten her as much as the likelihood that Chimene had exposed Risa's household to the disease. Chimene had been in Risa's house just before the quake; Chen had told her that. She had bandaged his bead before going off to aid other victims; she might have been infected even then.

No, she told herself, I'm well, and maybe the others are like me.

The cart rolled toward the Habber residence that bordered the road. The Habbers had offered to nurse some of the afflicted, but the Council had decided against that. Some people resented the Habbers already; allowing them to leave their residence to help others would only present the patrol with another problem.

Whatever she felt about Habbers, she was certain this epidemic was not their doing. Once this was past, even Ishtar would see that this was hardly a way to win goodwill among the settlers or to make them more trusting of Habbers. Earth's history was filled with stories of plagues that appeared unexpectedly, with entirely natural and understandable causes; she had learned that much from Malik.

The cart passed the tunnel leading into the southwest dome; she peered through the trees at residences until she spotted her own house. "Stop," she said.

She was out of the cart in an instant; she raced toward the house. A man was on patrol near the tunnel that led to the main dome; he lifted his wand. She shook back her hair so that he could see the mark on her forehead, then turned to cross the land in front of the house.

The door opened. Nikolai was leaving the kitchen with a bowl of soup; he tensed as he saw her. "Chimene's ill," she said. "I heard it at the Center."

"I know. Paul called from the infirmary — he and Tina heard it from a physician there — one of her housemates." Nikolai lowered his eyes for a moment. "I don't know how to say this. Chen's got it — so has Eleta. Emilia and Grazie are with them now. I sent Dyami and Irina to their rooms."

"Give me that." She took the soup from him. "I'm vaccinated — I'll take care of them. I don't want the rest of you taking any more risks."

"But —"

She hurried toward her daughter's room.

*  *  *

Iris was near. What could have brought her to his side? Chen moved his lips as he tried to call out to her, then felt a cool liquid trickle into his mouth. He swallowed, but the water did little to ease his parched throat.

"Chen," she murmured. He could not answer; he gasped for air. Something was wrong with the light; Iris's hair was longer and darker, and her eyes were brown, not the familiar green he remembered. She pressed a cold cloth to his head.

He had to tell her about the carving he had made as a model for her monument. She had chided him so often for carving others and not her; he had replied that he had no need for a carving, with the original at his side. Once he had admitted that he did not want to imprison her soul in a piece of wood.

Was she here to tell him that she had forgiven their son? Did she know about the message Benzi had sent him so long ago, saying that he would not forget them?

His mind drifted. He was once again on Island Two; he stood in front of a wall screen, with other workers pressed in around him. On the screen, a vast black pyramid trembled in the center of a lightning storm as lava flowed from its base. The workers had gathered to view images of this phase of the Project; Venus, shaken by this powerful antigravitational pulse, was beginning to turn more rapidly. They had waited a long time to view this event.

The images of awakening volcanoes and crumbling massifs filled him with awe, carrying him out of himself. He could forget the bondmate who no longer loved him, who had been swept away from him by her dreams and ambitions; only the new world mattered, the world their labor would bring into being. That world was heaving below him now, torn by the pangs of birth.

But Iris was with him. He recalled that she had come to him later, weeping over the son who had betrayed them by fleeing to the Habbers. The loss of Benzi had brought them together again, at first only because they needed each other's comfort, and later because they had managed to recapture their former love.

He had to tell Iris about the daughter she had never known and the grandchildren who now lived on Venus. He let out a sigh, but lacked the strength to speak.

"Father," Iris said. Why would she call him that?

The room vanished. The heat and black air of Venus pressed in around him, an atmosphere he could not breathe, one that would crush him. Iris was still at his side. She beckoned; she wanted him to come with her now.

"Iris," he whispered as the darkness closed in around him.

*  *  *

At first, Chimene felt only a deep lassitude, a weariness so intense that she could not even open her eyes to see who lifted her head, fed her water and soup, and bathed her face with cold cloths.

Her face was burning; her body ached and her lungs were filled with fluid. She struggled to breathe. Someone leaned over her; she closed her eyes.

"I've had my doubts." Kichi was speaking to her now. "I thought I might never find my faith, but it came to me when I needed it most."

I'm dying, she thought, I'm dying because I don't have enough faith. Forgive me — don't let me die alone.

Don't you know that you cannot be alone, that I am always with you, that even space-time presents no barrier to the Spirit?

She drifted, but a Presence was still with her, One that felt her suffering as Its own. The Spirit of Ishtar was inside her, lending Chimene her strength. She was Venus, burning with the heat of this world, longing for her transformation.

How could she have doubted? The Spirit was with her, sweeping away the clouds, easing the weight that pressed against her chest. The Spirit would not let her die; already, dimly, she could glimpse the light that would shine upon this world.

"Can you hear me?"

Chimene opened her eyes. A spasm seized her; she coughed, spitting up fluid. Matthew held her head, wiped her mouth, then eased her back on the bed.

She slept. When she awoke, Matthew and Eva were sitting on the bed watching her. "You're going to be all right," Matthew said. "You fought it for three days, but you'll get better now." Her sheets felt soiled, but she was too weak to move. Matthew came to her, picked her up, and settled her on a mat.

"We have to change your bedding," he murmured. “Don't worry about us. A physician came here to vaccinate us just an hour ago — we're clean."

She lay there passively, listening to the rustle of the sheets. The Spirit had reached out to her; she should have known that death could not touch her as long as she held to her faith. Kichi had been right; faith had come when she needed it most.

"I saw the light," she tried to say; her voice cracked. "I heard the Spirit." The words were inadequate; they could not convey the perfection of that moment, the loss of all barriers, the instant when the Spirit had filled her and purified her. Even the rite had never given her such a moment of joy.

Matthew lifted her to the bed and gave her a sip of water. Chimene fell back against the pillow. "Eva's gone to get you some soup," he said.

"Kichi," she said. "The Guide was right. I —"

Matthew sat down and clasped her hands. "I kept telling myself you couldn't die," he said. "I was watching over you. I nursed you and I prayed for you. I think you're strong enough to bear what I have to say now."

"What is it?" she rasped.

"Kichi's with the Spirit now. The patrol came for her body a day ago. You know what this means. The Guide made a record of her choice, to be revealed to everyone after her passing, and all our brothers and sisters will know of it soon. You're our Guide, Chimene."

No, she thought, it's too soon; I'm not ready. Would the Spirit abandon her again? She clutched at Matthew; he rested his blond head against her chest.

"You mustn't fear," he whispered. "I know you're young, but Kichi was led to you by the Spirit — she saw what was in you. I'll be with you, and so will the others, Kichi is gone, but the Spirit has left us our Guide."

Surely the Spirit would touch her now. She listened but heard only the sound of Matthew's breathing. The transcendent moment was past; the struggle she had not expected for years would now begin.

*  *  *

Gupta Benares walked toward Risa with his bag, then halted on the path outside her house. "You're too late," she said.

"Risa —"

"You're too late for my father and my daughter, and you're too late for Emilia. They came for the bodies before first light."

"But no one else is showing symptoms?"

She did not reply. He touched her arm; she struck him away. He stepped back and hurried inside.

She continued to sit under the trees until he came back outside. "Let me give you something to help you rest," the physician said.

"I don't want your fucking remedies. Go on — there are still others you can save."

Gupta hurried away. The door opened again; Sef and Nikolai walked toward her. "Risa," Sef said, "I just got a message about Chimene. She's recovering — she'll be all right."

Risa said, "She brought death to this house."

"You mustn't blame her for that — she couldn't have known."

"She brought death here. She shouldn't have been coming to see us in the first place, but the rest of you just had to be soft-hearted about it."

"Come inside — you need to rest." Sef's eyes were red; his broad shoulders sagged with grief and weariness. "We all need rest." He held out his hand; she shrank back. He gazed at her for a few moments, then went back inside.

"Irina's asleep," Nikolai said. "With the antibody treatment, her symptoms won't get any worse, and Gupta says she’ll be almost recovered by tonight." He paused. "At least you still have Dyami and Sef."

She looked up, then got to her feet. The lines in his broad face had deepened, and shadows darkened the hollows under his blue eyes. She gripped his hands. "Kolya —"

"Irina will be all right. I might have lost them both. I —" His throat moved as he swallowed. "Let's walk. I haven't been outside in days. I don't want to be in the house right now."

They walked toward the path. Gupta was already leaving the house next door; another physician was entering Thierry Lacan-Smith's house. The door to Lucas Ghnassia's home opened; two members of the patrol carried a body outside and laid it on a litter. Risa heard a wail before the door closed. She kept her eyes on the path, afraid to look at the other houses.

They continued on their way in silence until they reached the lake. The surface was smooth, almost glassy, undisturbed by any wind.