Proteus in the Underworld Read online

  "I'd like to see it. But now, before you get too uppity, let's talk about the Fermiel camp. First, he has everyone who believes that the Mars Declaration must be honored. You think they are kooks, Georgia, but there are lots of them. They won't go away. Second, Trudy Melford has been sympathetic to Old Mars and the Underworld. And before you start looking smug, Rafael, let me tell you that the practical motive for that sympathy went away a few minutes ago. If you want Trudy's support from this point on, you will have to earn it.

  "Third, I suspect that you will have my support; but I can't confirm that until I have a conversation with someone who isn't here at the moment. Now here's your bad news, Rafael: even if you have my support, I suspect that you are going to lose part of your funding. You won't have enough in the future to do anything that you like. I'm thinking especially about the terraforming. It may have to slow down."

  "But the Mars Declaration—"

  "Is a piece of paper, like any other. It needs to be interpreted in today's terms, not those of a century or two centuries ago."

  Rafael Fermiel's red beard jutted pugnaciously at Bey. "You'll never persuade the Old Mars policy council of that."

  "Quite right, I won't. You will. And Georgia Kruskal will help you."

  "Wait a minute." Georgia rose up from her haunches. "If you think I'm going to work with a bunch of wombats like the Old Mars flapheads—"

  "I do. I expect you and Rafael to sit down and work out a way of doing things together. This is one planet, with one future. You can't both win. You have to cooperate."

  "And if we don't?"

  "Then I'll make a prediction. No, I'll make a promise." Bey stared from one to the other in frustration. "If you two don't find a way to work together, I'll pull my own support from both sides, including my technical input on the surface forms. Trudy will take all BEC support away. I'll do my best to make sure that every cent of outside funding that goes to Old Mars dries up at once. And I'll set the Office of Form Control going on an investigation of Mars illegal forms."

  Fermiel frowned at Georgia Kruskal. "He's threatening us—both of us."

  "He can't do that!"

  They turned in unison to glare at Bey.

  "I can, you know." Bey stared right back at them. "I just did. God, if you only knew how I hate laying down the law like this to anybody. I'm retired, for God's sake—and I couldn't stand this sort of stuff when I wasn't. The expense of spirit in a waste of shame. There I go again. Sorry, but I've had it. Trudy, you're the Empress. Take over. Bang their heads together, make them compromise. You asked me what I wanted from you, and I'm telling you. Make these two see reason. Me, I'm heading for Earth."

  "You can't do that!" This time it seemed that everyone in the room spoke in unison. The only exception was Errol Melford, who was still staring in fascination at Georgia Kruskal's animated snout and wobbling layers of body fat.

  "I can." Bey stood up and started for the door. "It's my home, I have unfinished business there, and I'm going. Sondra, if you want to see this thing through to the finish you should come with me."

  "What are you going to do?" Sondra hurried after him.

  "We're done with the easy stuff." Bey turned at the threshold. It was a strange tableau. Everyone was frozen and silent at the table, watching his departure. He nodded to them. The nod said, Don't waste your time gaping at me, you have work to do. Get to it!

  He spun around with Sondra at his side.

  "Now we have to tackle the hard part."

  CHAPTER 22

  "What you are telling me," said Sondra, "is that the humanity tests are no damned good."

  "Not quite that." The fast-moving skimmer was approaching Wolf Island, and Bey was squinting ahead in the late afternoon sun for a first sight of home. "It's fine in almost every case; but occasionally, maybe one time in a billion, it misses. The trouble is, when it does fail it's in the worst possible way."

  "Humans are judged non-human?"

  "Right. I mean, it's no big deal if an occasional feral form is passed as human, like the ones in the colonies. That's a pretty trivial problem."

  Bey ignored Sondra's outraged gasp of protest. A lopsided pyramid of rock had come into view, jutting above the swelling ocean surface, and he was staring at it with satisfaction.

  "It's the other way round that's intolerable," he continued. "Babies, genuine humans with unusual talents and mental powers, dumped into the organ banks. They have odd psych profiles, and when they're different enough to exceed program tolerances the test judges them non-human."

  "But if that's true how come no one has ever noticed?" The idea of babies slaughtered and dissected for the organ banks sent chills up Sondra's spine. "I mean, you're saying these are unusually smart people."

  "They are. But they're babies. They never have a chance to prove themselves. And if they were the smartest people in the world, how would we recognize their absence? It's hard to notice what isn't there." Bey's manner had become unusually grim. As the skimmer docked the two hounds stood at the jetty, wagging their tails madly. But Bey fondled their heads absently and led the way straight toward the house.

  "Lop the top-end tail off the distribution of human intelligence and creativity," he went on, "and it would make no measurable difference to the population. Only one person in a billion is out beyond the six-sigma level. That's what we're talking about here. But eventually those one-in-a-billion make a huge difference. Ninety-five percent of all human progress comes from less than one thousandth of one percent of the population."

  To Sondra, he was suddenly nervous as she had never seen him before. On the journey back from Melford Castle he had become increasingly serious and preoccupied. He had refused to tell her what came next, answering her questions only with a terse, "Wait and see."

  Could it be his vow to have Denzel Morrone fired as head of the Office of Form Control? Sondra had been dreading her own next meeting with Morrone—she had disobeyed his direct orders—but it was hard to believe that Bey had any such worries. Trudy Melford had promised Bey anything he asked, and she had such political clout that the dismissal of a medium-level official from a government department ought to be child's play to her.

  But if it wasn't that, then what was it?

  Bey was heading downstairs and straight for his communications center. He nodded to Jumping Jack Flash, who peered up at him with perplexed brown eyes as Bey at once sat down and entered a call sequence unfamiliar to Sondra.

  "I'm afraid we have to wait a while," he said. "Maybe three hours or more. Why don't you help yourself to some food, or have—"

  Bey paused. The terminal was already flashing a response. While Sondra was still wondering who—or what—could be three hours' signal time away and yet provide an instant reply, the image display area came alive. She found herself staring at a familiar figure. There was no mistaking the massive head with its ropy strands of hair and luminous eyes.

  Bey seemed even more surprised than she was. "How the devil can you—"

  Capman's head bobbed forward, in the Logian smile. "No magic today, Behrooz Wolf. Not even unfamiliar science. I have been expecting and waiting for your call."

  "But where are you?"

  "Very close by—look up to your north, and you could in principle see my ship. I am parked in Earth geostationary orbit."

  "You couldn't possibly know that I wanted to speak to you!"

  "I made no such statement. Perhaps it was I who wished to speak with you." The Logian's face was quite unreadable, at least to Sondra. "However, your last remark suggests that you in fact do wish to talk with me. I am curious to learn the subject."

  "I don't believe that. I believe you already know very well why I placed my call."

  "If that is the case, then there can be no possible reason for delaying discussion." The great head bowed forward to Bey and Sondra. "I await your remarks with interest."

  Bey bowed in return and stayed with head bent for a long time. At last he sighed and straightened.


  "This will be more questions than comments. But first let me tell you what I know. You are familiar with the Mars terraforming operation, to make the planet more like Earth?"

  "The whole solar system is aware of it."

  "Right. But I said familiar with it. Most people know about the project the way I did before I went to the Mars Underworld. Superficially. In other words, they don't really think about it at all."

  "Assume that I am, as you put it, familiar with the project."

  "Then let's get right to the central question: Who is paying for the terraforming effort? Someone pays for everything, no matter what the project is."

  "The terraforming project is funded by the Old Mars policy group, seeking to fulfill the intent of the Mars Declaration."

  "That's what everyone believes. But that's not really an answer, is it? The cost of a full-scale terraforming project is prodigious—everything from purchase of Cloudland comet fragments, to the flying of the volatiles to Mars impact, to the creation and use of bespoke organisms for the absorption of atmospheric carbon dioxide and release of bound oxygen. The Old Mars contingent is wealthy by Mars standards, but nowhere near rich enough to pay for everything that's going on.

  "As soon as I had been out on the surface of Mars and seen the scale of the operation for myself, I had my doubts. I wondered if maybe BEC had a hand in it somewhere. The company could afford such a thing if it decided it was important enough to BEC operations.

  "But I couldn't make sense of that, either. First of all, Trudy Melford went to Mars only recently, three years ago, and for reasons nothing to do with terraforming."

  "Reasons which I presume that you now understand." The Logian stared curiously at Sondra, standing by Bey's side. "May I ask, did you make that deduction, Miss Dearborn?"

  "Not really." Sondra stared back, and wondered to what extent that hulking form in its methane-rich atmosphere was still the human Robert Capman. "I got part of it right—a little bit."

  "You got most of it," Bey corrected. "And Sondra would have deduced the rest if she had been able to look at Errol Melford's picture, as I did, in Trudy's private quarters at Melford Castle. But don't let me get sidetracked. Trudy went to Mars long after the terraforming effort was started. Also, she has a real interest in the surface forms, and BEC's commercial gain would be maximized if the terraforming stopped, because if Mars becomes like Earth anyone can live on the surface without needing form-change. The modification developed by Georgia Kruskal is able to colonize the surface as it is today, but only with extensive and continuing use of form-change equipment.

  "So I had a mystery. But I still didn't rule out BEC funding for the Old Mars efforts, because Trudy seemed so oddly sympathetic to them. We found out why when we learned about Errol Melford. And that was when Trudy, with no more reason to be about it, flatly denied that she was funding the Old Mars terraforming project.

  "Dead end. But somebody was pouring resources into changing Mars to be like Earth. Who was it? Who had the resources? An even better question, who had the motive?

  "You can count the candidate groups on one hand. First, Earth could do it. They have the money, and they would quite like Mars to become another Earth. New land, new living space, a new sphere of influence. But I'm in the heart of Earth's information networks, and there's no way that anything this size could be happening without my learning of it. So I had to cross Earth off the list.

  "The Cloudlanders have the economic clout, too, and they also have access to free comet fragments. But they look down their noses at anything going on in the inner system, Mars or Earth or any place else. The same is true of the Kernel Ring and the Kuiper Belt. To all of them, everything inside the orbit of Pluto is old, dull, and decadent. Nothing would be less interesting than the conversion of one inner planet to be like another one.

  "I seemed to have run out of answers. No one had both means and motive. But then I thought again. There is one group in the solar system whose powers sometimes seem just about limitless, and whose motives I have never been able to fathom. I wondered, what about the Logian forms, hidden beneath the shroud of Saturn's atmosphere? Weren't they a candidate, too?"

  Capman was shaking his head. "You know Logian stated policy: we do not interfere in the affairs of humans."

  "I do know your stated policy. And I know that you have always been very careful to phrase it just that way when we have spoken together. 'Logian stated policy'—but not necessarily Logian actual policy. As for your opportunities to influence human actions, I can suggest three or four ways you might funnel resources into any solar system activity that you choose—and still have the final recipient unaware of the source.

  "So it seemed to me that the means were there. The thing missing was motive. Logians can't survive on either Mars or Earth. Why would they choose to help Old Mars in its efforts to terraform the planet?

  "I couldn't answer that question. But it suggested another idea: If the Logians were favoring the Mars terraforming efforts, that action opposed Georgia Kruskal's desire to keep the surface just the way that it is. She can live there without a suit, in today's conditions—provided that she has continuing access to form-change equipment. And that led me to one more thought: the people of every inhabited world in the system make use of form-change, but usually they do not depend on it. Everywhere, on every major body from Europa to Cloudland, the natural environment of each world is being changed so that humans can live there in their original form, without dependence on form-change. People in Cloudland choose to adopt a different shape, but that's for convenience, not necessity. I have been to Cloudland, just as I am, and managed very well. But I couldn't survive on the surface of Mars for five minutes. Unless it is terraformed, any human living there will depend on the use of form-change every day, just to remain alive."

  Bey paused, as though he had arrived at some profound and significant conclusion. Sondra, listening closely, could not begin to guess what it might be. And yet watching the body language of Bey Wolf and Robert Capman, it was clear to her that a crucial moment had been reached. The style of their interaction had changed. Bey was leaning forward expectantly, while Capman was nodding slowly in a gesture not at all like the bobbing motion of the Logian smile.

  And when he finally spoke, it sounded like a total change of subject. "Behrooz Wolf." The deep voice was slow and sad. "You have known me for many, many years. How would you describe my work, and its relationship to the science of purposive form-change?"

  If the question surprised Bey, he did not show it. He replied at once. "You have contributed more than anyone in the whole field since the original work of Ergan Melford, two hundred and fifty years ago. Until you adopted the Logian form and moved to Saturn, your whole life's work revolved around the theory and practice of purposive form-change."

  "Very well. And your work?"

  "I won't try to estimate the value of what I've done. Someone else should make that assessment. But I can honestly say that for more than half a century I have worked constantly on form-change problems; and nothing else in my life has been as important to me as that effort."

  "We seem to be in total agreement. We have each devoted most of our lives to the same single end: the advancement of purposive form-change techniques. We have each—despite your modesty—made deep and far-reaching contributions to the subject, more than any other living persons." Capman's massive head lifted, and he stared straight at Bey. "So you, Behrooz Wolf, will find it as disturbing as I did, when I realized that purposive form-change, in widespread, necessary, and universal use, poses a great and terrible threat to the future of humanity. Does that answer your question?"

  The gasp came from Sondra, not from Bey. He sat totally silent and still as Capman continued: "I should add that my interest in form-change work and its effects did not cease when I assumed the Logian form. We Logians are not human in appearance, and we sometimes appear to have superhuman powers; but in our concerns we remain all human. And we operate with a very long time-fram
e."

  "You say it's a threat." Bey spoke in a low voice and his face had become paler than usual. "I don't see why. Form-change has done more good for more people than any other discovery in history. I'm not talking about trivial nonsense like cosmetic change, I mean the important things like birth defect correction and medical treatment and healthy old age."

  "All hugely important, and all hugely valuable. But not the whole story." Capman swung to face Sondra. "Miss Dearborn, you visited the Fugate Colony. Do you think you could mate with a Fugate?"

  "Never." Sondra recalled the lumbering seventy-foot-tall figures. "I mean, I didn't actually see their sex organs, but if they're anything like in proportion . . . Anyway, they were repulsive. I wouldn't want to mate with one of them, even if I could."

  "Which is perhaps of far greater practical importance." Capman turned back to Bey. "You have heard the modern dictum, echoed throughout the solar system: Easier to change people than planets. With today's form-change methods that is certainly true. As Georgia Kruskal is demonstrating, forms can be created that thrive in extreme natural environments. But the idea of matching people to settings neglects a profound problem. The celestial bodies of the solar system display an amazing diversity, in atmosphere, gravity, composition, temperature, and size. If humans seek to adapt to each situation, the inhabitants of each world will diverge from every other.

  "The long-term effect of such a divergence has been known since the time of Darwin and Wallace. It is termed speciation. Today, humans constitute a single species. At some time in the far future there could be many; different in size and form and function, fragmented in purpose, unable and unwilling to inter-breed. And all thanks to the use of purposive form-change. If such a future is to be avoided, currently accepted thinking must change. It must become: Better to change planets than people. Terraform Mars and Europa, as is happening today. Terraform Venus, terraform Titan, terraform Oberon, terraform Triton, terraform the worldlets of the Kuiper Belt and Cloudland. Modify environments. And by doing so, allow humanity to continue as a single species."