“Helen,” Su broke in on her thoughts. “I don’t think the money’s going to be there.”
Helen smiled. “I think we’ve had this conversation before.”
“We have, several times.” Su leaned her shoulder against the bench’s back. The wind blew her bronze scarf over her shoulder. “But this time its different.”
“How?”
Su turned her gaze to the chimes swinging in the breeze. Their random music filled the park but did nothing to lift the chill settling over Helen’s heart. “Call it a narrowing of horizons, Helen. Call it a selfishness born of the fact that we can now live three hundred years all on our own and we worry less about leaving something behind that will truly last.”
“Can I call it a bunch of cheapskate bureaucrats?” asked Helen lightly.
“You can, if it makes you feel better.” Su’s smile quickly faded. “But you know as well as I do that since Bradbury—”
“No.” Helen pushed herself upright. “No, you do not get to blame this on Bradbury. Bradbury was twenty years ago. Bradbury has nothing to do with the way things are now.”
“I wish that were true. For your sake, I truly do. But it’s not only generals who are always relighting the last war. Bureaucrats do it too.”
No, No. You are not saying this. I refuse to accept this. “And do those bureaucrats really want ten thousand refugees on their doorstep?”
Su spread her hands helplessly. “The C.A.C. doesn’t see you as refugees, Helen. They see you as misfits. You all have citizenship in your parents’ republics. They have to take you, and then you’re their problem, not the U.N.’s.”
All around them wind rang the bells, sending their music out into a world that didn’t care about the work of her life or the futures of her people. “You can’t expect me to be content with this. I can’t just let Venera die.”
“I expect them to and you stone-cold dead with your fingers wrapped around a support girder,” said Su, perfectly seriously. “They’ll have to cut you out of there.”
Helen’s mouth twitched as if she didn’t quite have the energy to smile. “The money’s there someplace,” she said, because it was so much easier than even contemplating the alternative. “We just have to find it. You’re not going to just hang me out to dry, are you?”
“Never, Helen.”
Helen had been right about something, anyway. The money had been out there. All it had taken was the Discovery to prime the pump. For a moment, everything looked like it was going to be all right. But now, now…everything might be about to change again if the U.N. decided the new rumors were true, if they decided she wasn’t handling this right, if Michael said the wrong thing.
Helen stepped up to her window and stared out across the farms. Drones, humans, and ducks made their way between the lush plant life, each with their own mission of the moment. Each with something immediate to do. She was the only one standing still on the whole farming level.
She felt alone. Deeply and profoundly alone, as if she’d lost the feeling for the world around her, the world she’d built from the first dollar and the first strut. She stood in the middle of it, and yet it was somewhere else. Somewhere she wasn’t sure she knew how to get to.
Don’t be an idiot. She shook herself and returned to her desk. You have too much work to do to get depressive. First, you have to decide what you’re going to do about Michael.
She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to call him in right now and demand to know what he thought he was doing, find out how he could betray Venera, betray her, like this. How could he not know what this could lead to? How could he not realize what the U.N. would do with whatever he told them?
The sudden memory of Grace’s eyes stopped her. That little smile, that knowledge of possessing a winning move.
Grace had known what this news would do to her. Grace had wanted this. She had wanted to turn Helen against Michael, to send her running off after a traitor, off after some one who was just doing his job but wounding her ego….
Grace had been sure it would work, and it almost had.
Helen realized her hands were shaking. Oh God, am I that forgone?
She got up, went into her little private lavatory, pulled a cup of water from the sink, and drank it in three swallows. Then she met her own gaze in the mirror for a long moment.
Am I that far gone?
Almost, Helen. Almost, but not quite.
It was a good face, a strong face, a well-meaning face that had worked so hard and had almost lost its way. God, had come so close….
Helen removed her scarf and pulled all the pins out of her hair. The mane tumbled down over her shoulders, a waterfall of white and gray. With long, competent fingers she twisted it into a fresh knot and one by one, slid the pins back to their places. She laid the scarf back and pinned that firmly down, too.