Sight of Proteus (16 page)

"You deserve that, even if I'm wrong. From the beginning, eh? That's a long story. I'll have to tell it to you the way that I imagine it. Whether or not it's true is another matter."

He sat down, leaned back, and put his hands behind his head.

"I have to begin it sixteen million years ago, and not on Earth. On the planet Loge. Loge was a giant, about ninety Earth masses, and it was going to explode. Now for something speculative, something you may find hard to believe. Loge was inhabited. It had living on it a race of intelligent beings. Maybe they were too intelligent. We know that their planet blew up, and we don't know why. Maybe they were to blame for that. I doubt if we'll ever know. The race had nuclear energy, but not spaceflight."

"Come on now." Maria Sun was looking at Ling sceptically. "You can't possibly know that. I'll buy your Logians, maybe, but you just said we'll never know much about them."

"I know that much, all the same. How do I know it?" Ling was almost pleased by the questioning. "Well, I know that they had nuclear energy because they made transuranic elements. Any natural source of transuranics would have decayed by natural processes since the formation of the planet. The only possible way we could find a source of transuranics on Loge—and only on Loge—would be if they were created there, by nuclear synthesis. We don't know how to do that efficiently ourselves, so there's a good reason to think that the Logians had a more advanced nuclear technology than we do."

"All right." Maria nodded her dark head. She had changed her appearance since Bey had last seen her, and was now wearing the form of an exquisite Oriental. The terrible streams of swearing that came out of that petal mouth when she was hard at work made a strange effect that she was probably quite unaware of. "So, they had nuclear energy. But how could you possibly know they didn't have spaceflight?"

"Elementary, my dear Maria." Ling was too engrossed in his explanation to note Bey's quiet reaction to that evidence of prior acquaintance. "They couldn't escape from Loge, not any of them, even when they found that it was going to disintegrate. They must have had some years of warning, some time to plan—but no one got away, not one of them."

Ling rose from his seat. "Wait one moment, I must check the status." He went to the tank, nodded as he inspected the tell-tales, and returned. "It is still all stable, and the change is accelerating. The next hour or two are crucial."

"We'll stay here," said Bey. "So they could not get off Loge," he prompted.

"That is correct." Ling resumed his relaxed posture, eyes far away. "They had time to plan, so I imagine it was not a nuclear war. Perhaps they had found a way of making large-scale interior adjustments to the planet, and lost control. That would be relatively slow.

"What could they do? They looked around them in the Solar System. They knew they were going to die, but was there any way that their race might survive? To a Logian, the natural place for that survival would be Jupiter, or best of all Saturn. They probably never even considered Earth—a tiny planet, by their standards, too hot, oxygen atmosphere, a metal ball crouched close to the Sun. No, it would have been Jupiter or Saturn, that was their hope. That's where they turned those big, luminous eyes—adapted for seeing well in a murky, methane-heavy atmosphere."

Bey suddenly thought of the great, glowing eyes of the Mariana monsters, as they stood guarding the deeps off Guam. The Grabbers could never have imagined such a fate, as they touched down in triumph on the grey surface of Tycho.

"The crew of the Jason," he said.

"You are running ahead of me, Mr. Wolf," said Ling, smiling. "Let me keep the story going, true or false—as I said, all this is pure conjecture. Their scientists calculated the force of the explosion for Loge, and they gave a grim report. No life form, even single celled ones, could survive it. Parts of Loge would be thrown in all directions. Some would leave the Solar System forever. Some would land in the Sun. And some would undoubtedly hit Jupiter, Saturn, and the other planets—including Earth. Was it possible that anything could survive that explosion and long transit?"

Park Green spoke for the first time. "If single-celled creatures couldn't survive, it would have to be something very primitive. How about a virus? That's just a chunk of DNA, without any wrapping."

Ling was looking at Green with an expression of surprise. "That's it exactly. A virus has no 'life-support system' of its own. To grow and multiply, it must have a host cell. The Logians took a chance and packed their genetic material as a viral form."

"And it worked?" asked Maria Sun.

"Not as they expected it to," said Ling. "Or maybe it did. We've never had a ship down to the surface of Jupiter or Saturn and we don't know what's there. Maybe there are Logians down there, with viral growth of their genetic materials in host bodies.

"Some of their viral material was on fragments of Loge that were blown way out of the Solar System and became part of the long-period comets. That didn't matter. A virus lasts indefinitely. Sixteen million years later, some of the fragments that fell back into the Solar System under the Sun's gravitational pull were mined by men—not for their Loge DNA, not at all. For their transuranic elements."

"And the Loge DNA began to grow in them?" said Green, his face puzzled. "Wait a minute, that wouldn't work. If that were possible, every Grabber would be . . ."

Ling nodded approvingly. "Very good, Mr. Green. You are quite right. Humans are very poor hosts for Logian development. The Loge virus could get into the human body easily enough, and it could even take up residence in the central nervous system. But it couldn't thrive in those unfamiliar surroundings. Wrong atmosphere, wrong chemical balance, wrong shape."

Ling paused and looked at the other three. His manner had changed. He had become the great scientist, lecturing on his own field to an interested audience.

"You know, I knew there was a Logian civilization before I ever came to Earth for this investigation. The transuranics proved it, beyond doubt. Otherwise I would never have been led so quickly to this train of thought.

"I think you can now complete the story yourselves. The crew of the Jason picked up Logian DNA in viral form from the fragment that they were crunching for its Asfanium and Polkium. It got into their bodies, and nothing at all happened. They went and had their great celebration in Tycho City, and still nothing happened. But finally they came to Earth—and they got into the form-change machines. At last, the virus could begin to act. It stimulated their central nervous systems, and the purposive form-change process began. It was creating a form that was optimal for Logians, not for Earthmen. When that change had proceeded to the point where the changed form could not survive in the atmosphere of Earth, the creatures died. Asphyxiated, in normal air."

Park was looking at the tank containing John Larsen. He had at last realized the full implications of Ling's words.

"You mean that is happening to John, too?"

"It would have happened, and it would have killed him," replied Ling. "He injected himself with Logian DNA, along with the Asfanium he took from the bodies. The work we've been doing this past day has been to modify the life-support system of the tank, so that it follows the needs of the organism inside it. If you go and look at the tell-tales now, you'll find that the nutrients and the atmosphere would be lethal to a human being."

Park Green hurried over to the tank. He looked at the monitors and came quickly back.

"Body mass, two hundred kilos. Oxygen down below eight percent, and ammonia way up. Mr. Ling, will John live?"

Ling stood up and went over to the tank. He looked carefully at each of the read-outs. "I believe he will," he said at last. "The rates of change are down, and everything is very stable. I don't know if we will be able to return him to his former shape. If we can do it, I think it will not be for some time."

Ling came back to the other three. He looked at Bey Wolf, and caught the reflection of his own excitement.

"Look on the positive side," he said. "We've dreamed for centuries about our first meeting with an alien race." He nodded towards the great tank. "The first representative will be in there, ready to meet with us, a day or two from now."

BOOK III

"Let the Great World spin forever, down the ringing grooves of change."

Chapter 15

The external lights had dimmed to their late-night glow. Wolf was sitting by the great tank, half-asleep, musing over the social indicators. His weariness showed in the stiff shoulders, the bowed head and slack posture. In front of him, the screen display of the global map revealed concentric circles of change, spreading out from the Link entry points. He could visualize the frantic activity in the General Coordinators' offices, as they sought to stabilize Earth's economic system. Even the long-term indicators—fertility, births, deaths and change-rates—would soon be affected unless the new controls produced better results.

"Sorry to be so 'ong, Bey." The sibilant words from the wall speakers broke suddenly into his drifting thoughts. "The BEC peop'e wanted to test more of my visua' responses. Apparent'y I can see everything from near u'tra-vio'et out through the therma' infra-red. Rough'y three-tenths of a micron out to fifteen microns. No wonder I've noticed the wor'd is 'ooking strange these days."

Wolf shook his head, took a deep breath, and sat up straighter in his chair. He turned to look into the tank through its transparent side panels. Inside, John Larsen raised a massive, triple-jointed arm and gestured in greeting. His torso was massive, wrinkled and umbonated, with a smooth, oval area immediately above the central boss that housed the secondary motor nerve center. The broad skull was dominated by the great, jewelled eyes and the wide fringed mouth beneath it. Larsen moved his head forward, in the movement that Bey had come to recognize as the Logian smile.

"We had a 'ong session," he said, "but at 'east the doctors seem to think I've kept my sanity through a' this—yesterday they didn't sound too sure of that."

As he spoke, forming the words slowly and carefully, the smooth oval area on his chest modulated in color, from a uniform pale pink, to brown, to soft green, following his words like a sound-sensitive visual display.

Wolf smiled wearily. "That's an improvement, then—you never showed much sign of sanity before the change. Ultra-violet through thermal infra-red, eh? More than five octaves on the electromagnetic spectrum, and we see less than one. Can you cover all that range on the chest display?"

"Sure I can. Watch this. Therma' first, then I wi' gradua'y shorten the wave'ength a' the way down. Here we go."

Larsen hooded the nictitating membrane over his prominent eyes, and pointed to the smooth area on his chest. Wolf watched in silence. For a while the oval remained grey, then it finally glowed a deep red. Almost imperceptibly, it moved gradually to yellow, then to green and on to a pale violet-blue before it faded.

Wolf shook his head. "I'll have to just take your word for it, John. I didn't get anything except the usual visual spectrum. You know, you're the ultimate chameleon. When you get through all the tests here, you and I ought to go on a tour. There's been nothing like this in the history of form-change—and we've seen some pretty strange stuff between the two of us."

"I wi' do it, Bey, if you can find a good way of moving me around. You'd have to dup'icate this who'e area." He indicated the inside of the great tank with a wave of a massive forearm. "How much did it cost to set this up so I cou'd 'ive in it? It's comfortab'e, but I'm g'ad it didn't have to come out of my sa'ary."

"I don't know what it cost," said Wolf. "Ling set up the credit, and made all the physical arrangements, before he disappeared again. I guess it all comes out of some USF budget. He certainly had enough credit to impress the proprietors of Pleasure Dome, and we know that's not easy. I still have no word on him, no idea how he got away from here, where he went—anything."

Larsen nodded his broad, wrinkled head, with its wreath of ropy hair. "You won't hear from him again unti' he wants you to, if you ask me. I found out a 'ot about him, in those few weeks that he was working with me, making sure I cou'd survive a' right in this form. I'm sure you were right in what you said, 'ing is Capman, no doubt of it. He seems to have found ways to move on and off Earth, and round the So'ar System, that we can't even track."

"I know." Wolf rubbed at his chest, his habitual gesture of frustration. "Losing him once was something that I learned to live with. Losing him the second time is unforgivable—especially when I knew he was Capman, knew it in my bones, long before he took off again. He once said he and I would recognize each other anywhere, regardless of disguise, and I believe him. As soon as you're ready for a reverse change, we'll go and have another look for him. I'm more convinced than ever now that we didn't really understand most of what was going on at Central Hospital."

"I don't know what he did there, Bey, but there's no doubt that he saved my skin."

"How long before you can go back to your old form, John? BEC should be getting close to plotting out all the steps. I'm keen to find out the details, but I know they want to find out how to go both ways before they start the reversal."

Larsen laughed, and it came as a harsh, glassy noise over the speakers. "Don't rush me, Bey. First of a', now that I fee' sure I can reverse when I want to, I am in 'ess of a hurry; According to BEC, it wi' need a fu' four weeks in a form-change tank, and you know what a bore that wi' be. Anyway, I am not sure that I even want to change back."

Wolf looked at him in surprise.

"I mean it, Bey," Larsen went on. "You know, when I 'ook back on it I know I was not too smart in the human form of John 'arsen. I can remember what a strugg'e I used to have to try and fo'ow your thought processes—and often I cou'd not do it. Now it is easy for me. I used to forget things, now everything I hear or see is waiting to be reca'ed."

He leaned back in the sturdy supporting chair, resting his three hundred kilograms of body mass.