Ben grimaced. That “demo” had been a stupid idea. When he’d caught a whiff of what was being planned, he—or Paul, rather—had protested to everyone he could and had been ignored.
But apparently he was not being ignored anymore. “I think uniting us is up to you, Paul. The only way the wave is going to rise is if Venera takes the place of Bradbury and makes the break. With an example to follow, the squabblers will be able to shut up and drive, if you see what I mean.” Her mouth twisted into an ironic smile, but her eyes still gleamed. “It’s not that men make history; history makes men. If you can show us the way, we can still free the worlds.”
The message faded out Ben, moving more on reflex than any conscious thought, wiped the file and the record of receipt. Then he released a search agent into the system to see if there were any ghosts or records he’d forgotten and wipe them too.
The only way this is going to work is if Venera takes the place of Bradbury and makes the break. Ben sat back and ran one hand across his scalp. If you can show us the way it can still happen.
If you can show us the way.
Alone? Venera alone? Without help, without friends; at least, without friends who had declared themselves. Once they broke, they could maybe count on Bradbury and probably Giant Leap.
But then came the problem, the old, old problem. Mother Earth still controlled the shipping between planets. The tacit threat had always been that if any colony tried to become self-governing, Earth would simply stop transports to and from the colony, isolating the world. No food, no spare parts, no replacement personnel, nothing. Even Bradbury with its mixed industry had felt the pinch after a while. How much worse would it be for Venera? Venera manufactured nothing but research reports. They could not survive alone.
But Venera wouldn’t be alone. Ben straightened up, one muscle at a time. Venera had neighbors. Neighbors who could fly from world to world as easily as a yewner bureaucrat could fly from republic to republic. More easily.
What if the Venerans set up one of their portals between Venus and Mars? Between Luna and Venus? The colonists could move between the worlds without any interference from Mother Earth. Earth’s transport and communications monopolies would be shattered. The one sure control they held over the colonies would be gone.
If Venera could make a deal with the aliens. If it were Venera that spoke, not the U.N.
If it were Venera that spoke.
Venera, meaning Helen. Ben stared out at the clouds. Helen would never abandon the U.N. To do so would mean abandoning Yan Su, who had stood by her for so long.
No. He corrected his thoughts. Helen would never betray the U.N. unless the U.N. betrayed her, betrayed Venera, first.
If that happened, all bets were off. Helen would do anything she had to so that Venera would survive and be free to do its work with its people free to live their lives. She’d even make a deal with aliens.
An idea formed in his mind, one slow thought trickling into his consciousness at a time.
There was a way. He held it in his hands. He stood a very good chance of pushing Helen over the edge. All he had to do was lie to the U.N. about what she knew and when she knew it.
Ben leaned back in the chair as far as it would let him and scrubbed his face with both hands.
All he had to do was be the one who really betrayed Helen.
He’d been on Luna when he met Helen. He’d successfully left the name Paul Mabrey behind and found work as a geologist for Dorson Mines, Inc. As such, he supervised more databases than humans, analyzing rock and soil samples and looking for useful deposits. It was a job. It bought food and shelter and paid the taxes so he could breathe and drink, but it meant nothing.
He’d been in one of the public caverns. He’d just bought coffee and fry cakes for breakfast. He’d been sitting on a hard little chair, staring at the walls and thinking how much he missed the Bradbury gardens. The Lunars had covered their gray rock with vines. Morning glories and wild grapes made a living wallpaper and warred with the rambler roses and raspberries in providing color and scent. Pretty, but not the gardens. Empty, second-rate. Cheap. Like his job. Like him.
“Dr. Godwin?”
He looked up. A woman stood by his table, plainly dressed in a blue blouse and matching trousers. Her graying hair was bundled into a knot and pinned in place with wooden pins. Her eyes sparkled and her entire attitude said she knew why she was alive.
“Yes?” said Ben, wracking his brain to see if he should know her.
“I’m Helen Failia. I’ve been looking for you. I need a geologist who knows comparative planetology and volcanology.” She dropped into a spare chair without asking. “For Venera Base on Venus.”