The shuttle was cramped, crowded, and hot. The smell of sweat was unsavory. It was standing room only. Boarding the shuttle, Dixie had felt like she and the crowd were being herded through cattle chutes. Now, the inside of the shuttle itself seemed like a boxcar. She pushed her thoughts away from what would come next in the process for a cow, the slaughterhouse. There had not been an opportunity to give the stranger’s briefcase to a host or hostess. She would have to find a way to open it later and hopefully find information inside that would help her send it to the proper owner.

In the meantime, rather than remembering her past, growing up on Pa’s farm, with things such as cattle chutes leading to box cars, she focused on the future and her new job as a schoolteacher on Venus. There wasn’t much else to think about. Though there was a large windshield in the front of the shuttle, only those passengers near the very front of the shuttle could see the swirling vistas of the Venusian sky through it. There were no conversations. In such a standing room only situation, shoulder to shoulder, people were doing what they could to avoid staring right into the face in front of their face or being exposed to halitosis. Before awkwardly looking away, DIxie had seen at a glance what the man in front of her had had for breakfast because there were still bits of it in his beard. It was much better to think about the future than the past or the present.

Dixie had accepted a position with the Royal Italian Aerolyth Mining Company as a school teacher at a company run school for the children of the families of miners in the settlement of Rosa Montana. The Italians had managed to find the only site on Venus known so far where there were deposits of aerolyth, the miracle mineral that made anti-gravity possible. Back on Earth, this was greatly increasing Italy’s financial stature and muscle.

Dixie didn’t speak any Italian, but she had been assured that she would be teaching in English and that her students would be an international mix. Rosa Montana employed several engineers with families from France and the Prussian states, as well as various other places, including Venusian nations. English was, even here on another world, to be the international tongue.

Dixie wondered what Venusian children would be like. When Venus had been first landed upon, the Earthers had been both surprised and pleased to find several human nations there. Some were friendly, some were hostile. But wasn’t that just like humans anywhere? Some friendly, some hostile.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” someone announced from the front of the shuttle. It would be impossible for all but the first two or three rows of passengers to see them. “We are about to land at the International City Skyport. Please take all your belongings, loved ones, and traveling companions with you as you depart. Thank you for flying on the Aphrodite’s Arrow and welcome to Venus.”

The crowd shifted around Dixie as people got ready to get out of there, but there was a lot less tension in the air now. Loud landing engines roared. Those groups traveling together who needed to speak to coordinate their debarking had to raise their voices to be heard. After a few minutes, with a slightly uncomfortable slam that jarred the passengers like an elevator reaching the bottom floor of a building a little too fast and hard, the shuttle had touched down.

As she had been one of the last passengers to board, Dixie was blessedly near the exit and didn’t have to wait long to get out of the stifling confines of the shuttle. The air smelled like the moments before a summer thunderstorm in Iowa. She wondered if that was the default normal smell of the air here all the time. She would soon find out.

She stepped away from the shuttle, following the general flow of the crowd. Instead of lining up in cattle chutes, however, the people fanned out across the shuttle landing zone. Almost everyone looked up at their first view of the Venusian sky.

Venus was called the World Beneath the Clouds for a reason. Nowhere was there any kind of clear sky, blue or otherwise. The entire sky was cloud-covered. The clouds were not gray and did not make the sky dark, however. The clouds were a myriad of colors and hues. At that moment, they seemed dominated with pinks and yellows and soft oranges. As with the smell of the air, Dixie had no idea if that was the status quo, what she would have to get used to day-to-day for the next several years, or if that was just one kind of look that the clouds could have out of many. Though the Sun could not be seen, its brilliance diffused through the clouds, making the day seem as bright as a good day for a summer picnic in Iowa. The air seemed humid, but not terribly, unmanageably so.

She took her gaze off the sky and looked around her immediate environment. Three ladies were holding up a sign that read: DIXIE SARGENT. The lady holding the sign stood in the middle.

The middle lady wore a simple, but not frumpy dress. It certainly wasn’t a housework dress, but it wasn’t the fanciest thing that a lady could leave the house in, either. She looked in her 20’s and had black hair tied into such an enormous bun that should they come loose, the tresses would spill all the way down to her buttocks. 

The woman on Dixie’s right looked to be in her 50s, her gray locks tucked under a proper bonnet. The older woman was dressed in nothing less than complete elegance, including gloves that went clear up over her elbows. Her dress billowed voluminously around her lower half. The style was marvelous, though several decades outdated. She carried a pair of lenses at the end of a slender wand that she was even now bringing up to her eyes to see DIxie’s approach better. 

On the sign holder’s right, or Dixie’s left, was willowy and not dressed like a proper lady at all. Her high cheekbones were painted with strange symbols. She wore a dangly earring in only one ear, an earring that sported a tiny feather. While this third woman also wore a dress, it was not a dress like those of her companions. It was almost like a slip, like an undergarment, in design. It seemed to be made of some kind of animal hide, not quite leather. Of the three ladies, this last one didn’t give Dixie her full attention. She seemed, like Dixie, a little overwhelmed and distracted by the sights of International City. Her eyes looked around in a mix of childlike wonderment and stark shock. Dixie was sure she must be a Marbii, a native Venusian.

“Salve! Hello! Greetings!” The sign holder jumped up and down in a bit in excitement as Dixie approached.

“I am Signora Zuccaro,” said the elder lady very formally. “This is Signorina Accetta and this is Ahlondra of the Marbii. Her mother is a Matriarch.” The last was added with an emphasis as if to be especially impressive.

Dixie set down her bags so that she could respond politely and formally, especially since she wanted to make a very good first impression. “How do you do?”

She smiled, thinking of how her older brothers on the farm back in Iowa would have teased her trying to be all formal in front of such a prim and proper fine Italian lady. The smile probably came through to her three new escorts warmly as they each smiled back at her. Even the nervous-looking Marbii woman seemed to relax a bit.

“Come along now, dear,” said Signora Zuccaro, clearly the leader, “you must be famished and tired. We have secured accommodations for you to refresh yourself tonight and tomorrow we shall take the rail to Rosa Montana. Welcome to Venus.”

Signorina Accetta and Ahlondra helped Dixie with her luggage and the quartet of ladies began leaving the shuttle landing area behind.

“Miss Dixie,” Ahlondra spoke for the first time since Dixie had arrived. “Where did you get this case?” The Marbii woman indicated the stranger’s briefcase.

“It was abandoned on the ship in space just before the shuttle left. I was hoping to find the owner.”

“Do you know what these symbols mean?”

Signora Zuccaro and Signorina Accetta ahead of them stopped. They had been discussing the best streets to take to reach their hotel.

“Is there a problem?” asked Signora Zuccaro bringing her lenses up to her face.

Ahlondra indicated the combination dials to unlock the briefcase. “These are symbols of my people.”

Dixie looked more closely at the briefcase’s combination lock. Sure enough, those were not numbers there, not any she recognized.