Read Online Proteus in the Underworld by Charles Sheffield - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles Sheffield
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slumped forward in the chair, elbows on bare knees, chin in hands, staring at the viewer.
"We? We don't do anything. I told you already, this isn't my problem. It's yours. You have to find a way to persuade Denzel Morrone to let you make a trip out to the Fugate and Carcon Colonies."
"That's easy for you to say, but Morrone is already mad as a coot at me because I came out here to see you. A message just came through on your message center, chewing me out, while you were sitting here."
Bey was frowning at her, as though this was the most important news of the day. "For you ? But I told you not to tell anyone that you were coming to Wolf Island."
"I didn't tell Morrone or anyone else. I chartered the flier myself. Seems Morrone found out anyway. But are you sure that going to the colonies is the right next step?"
"It's what I would do in your situation. Unless you have a bright idea?"
"I do. We should call Robert Capman on Saturn." And, when Bey did not respond, she went on, "I've read everything that you've ever written about him. According to you he was the absolute master of form-change theory, the greatest intellect of the century—and he became even more capable when he assumed a Logian form and moved to Saturn."
"All quite true. And all, I suspect, irrelevant. The Logian forms, deliberately, do not involve themselves in human affairs."
"Not the average human problem, maybe. But for a form-change problem, Capman's own special field—and if the request were to come from Bey Wolf, rather than Sondra Dearborn . . ."
"Ah. I see." Bey swung his chair around, to peer knowingly at Sondra through half-closed eyelids. "Why didn't you admit this earlier?"
"Admit what?"
"That you tried to call Capman, yourself , before you ever came to see me."
"It didn't seem relevant." Sondra would not meet his eyes.
"Why not? He is still alive, you know that. Messages beamed to Saturn reach him. Your message must have reached him. If he were interested in your problem he certainly had the means to reply."
"That's not the point, is it?" She sat up straight and glared at him with new energy. "You are the one who worships the fusty old writers. You are the literature and quotation junkie. So try and finish this one. 'I can summon spirits from the vasty deep.' "
"Maybe you have been doing some homework—at least on me." Bey leaned back and thought for a moment. "It's Shakespeare. Glendower says it. And Hotspur answers: 'Why so can I, and so can any man. But will they come when you do call for them.' I see. Anyone can call Robert Capman on Saturn—"
"But only Behrooz Wolf will get a reply. I sent a message and I didn't hear one word back. But you would. You were his fair-haired boy. If you called him, he'd talk to you."
"He might. He probably would. But I think I know what he'd tell me." "What?"
"Exactly what I am telling you. Go and solve it for yourself. I'm busy enough with my own work."
"You don't have any work. You've said it a dozen times, you retired three years ago."
"To pursue my own interests. Not yours, or anyone else's."
"You were ready enough to run off to Mars, when Trudy Melford wandered in and blinked her big blue eyes at you. But you won't help one of your own relatives."
"That argument again?" Bey sighed. "Let's dispose of it, once and for all. Then I need rest—you may not care, but I have been up all night. Working. Come on."
He led the way along another hallway, to a part of the house that Sondra had not seen before. It was an odd combination of bedroom and study. The displays in the ceiling and the controls beside the bed would allow someone to work or sleep with equal comfort. Bey went to a wall unit, where a complex chart was displayed.
"You have assured me several times that you and I are related, as though this entitles you to special consideration."
"We are related."
"Indeed we are. But how closely? I took the trouble to determine that. Here is my genealogical chart, displayed together with
"We? We don't do anything. I told you already, this isn't my problem. It's yours. You have to find a way to persuade Denzel Morrone to let you make a trip out to the Fugate and Carcon Colonies."
"That's easy for you to say, but Morrone is already mad as a coot at me because I came out here to see you. A message just came through on your message center, chewing me out, while you were sitting here."
Bey was frowning at her, as though this was the most important news of the day. "For you ? But I told you not to tell anyone that you were coming to Wolf Island."
"I didn't tell Morrone or anyone else. I chartered the flier myself. Seems Morrone found out anyway. But are you sure that going to the colonies is the right next step?"
"It's what I would do in your situation. Unless you have a bright idea?"
"I do. We should call Robert Capman on Saturn." And, when Bey did not respond, she went on, "I've read everything that you've ever written about him. According to you he was the absolute master of form-change theory, the greatest intellect of the century—and he became even more capable when he assumed a Logian form and moved to Saturn."
"All quite true. And all, I suspect, irrelevant. The Logian forms, deliberately, do not involve themselves in human affairs."
"Not the average human problem, maybe. But for a form-change problem, Capman's own special field—and if the request were to come from Bey Wolf, rather than Sondra Dearborn . . ."
"Ah. I see." Bey swung his chair around, to peer knowingly at Sondra through half-closed eyelids. "Why didn't you admit this earlier?"
"Admit what?"
"That you tried to call Capman, yourself , before you ever came to see me."
"It didn't seem relevant." Sondra would not meet his eyes.
"Why not? He is still alive, you know that. Messages beamed to Saturn reach him. Your message must have reached him. If he were interested in your problem he certainly had the means to reply."
"That's not the point, is it?" She sat up straight and glared at him with new energy. "You are the one who worships the fusty old writers. You are the literature and quotation junkie. So try and finish this one. 'I can summon spirits from the vasty deep.' "
"Maybe you have been doing some homework—at least on me." Bey leaned back and thought for a moment. "It's Shakespeare. Glendower says it. And Hotspur answers: 'Why so can I, and so can any man. But will they come when you do call for them.' I see. Anyone can call Robert Capman on Saturn—"
"But only Behrooz Wolf will get a reply. I sent a message and I didn't hear one word back. But you would. You were his fair-haired boy. If you called him, he'd talk to you."
"He might. He probably would. But I think I know what he'd tell me." "What?"
"Exactly what I am telling you. Go and solve it for yourself. I'm busy enough with my own work."
"You don't have any work. You've said it a dozen times, you retired three years ago."
"To pursue my own interests. Not yours, or anyone else's."
"You were ready enough to run off to Mars, when Trudy Melford wandered in and blinked her big blue eyes at you. But you won't help one of your own relatives."
"That argument again?" Bey sighed. "Let's dispose of it, once and for all. Then I need rest—you may not care, but I have been up all night. Working. Come on."
He led the way along another hallway, to a part of the house that Sondra had not seen before. It was an odd combination of bedroom and study. The displays in the ceiling and the controls beside the bed would allow someone to work or sleep with equal comfort. Bey went to a wall unit, where a complex chart was displayed.
"You have assured me several times that you and I are related, as though this entitles you to special consideration."
"We are related."
"Indeed we are. But how closely? I took the trouble to determine that. Here is my genealogical chart, displayed together with
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