Carbo.
"Just a minute," he said, surprising himself with the steel in his voice. "I want to ask you something."
"What?" Carbo asked as he went to his chair in front of the control panel's main viewscreen.
"Yesterday, in Bishop Foy's office, you seemed to agree with him about . . ."
Carbo flung his head back and said to the ceiling, "Madonna mia, not you too! Peterson raked me over the coals for half an hour this morning."
"But you said . . ."
"I gave Foy an excuse to send a team down to the surface to implant more animals," Carbo said, heatedly. "He believes evolution is a false doctrine, and that's fine by me, as long as it helps us to do our work."
Jeff felt himself frown. "But you seemed to agree with him . . ."
"That if the apes are not fully intelligent now, they never will be. Yes, I allowed him to think I agree. So now he allows us to implant more animals, to study them more thoroughly, to get enough information about life down there so that we can make an intelligent decision about whether or not we should try to alter the planet enough to allow colonization to begin."
"Then you don't agree with Bishop Foy?"
"No. And I don't agree with Peterson, either. I think it's too early to make up our minds, one way or the other. We need to know much more, first. And we'll never learn more if we stand here all day talking !"
Jeff grinned with relief and headed for the door to the contact room. It was so much easier being Crown than being Jeffrey Holman.
The days stretched into weeks, and the weeks began to mount up toward a month. Jeff spent almost every waking moment in the contact lab, on the couch, in Crown's mind, his body. From sunrise to nightfall every day, he was Crown. He was in the wolfcat's brain when Crown woke each morning; he was there when the great beast hunkered down his huge body for sleep.
Jeff's routine became almost as instinctive as an animal's. He got up long before the rest of the Village was awake. He ate, exercised, and then went to the lab. Amanda was there waiting for him, always. Most of the time Dr. Carbo did not show up until much later, after Jeff was already on the couch, in contact with Crown.
Jeff treasured those few moments each morning with Amanda. He lived for them. He never dared to tell her that he loved her. He never dared to hope that she loved him. But just being close to her, near enough to hear her voice, to smell her perfume, kept him going from day to day.
Often at the end of a grueling day-long session Jeff would eat dinner at the autocafeteria in his own dome.
At first Laura managed to be there every evening, but Jeff found himself too tired, and too involved with thoughts of Amanda, to pay much attention to her.
"I'm trying out for a contact mission," Laura told him one evening, her green eyes shining with excitement.
"You?" Jeff asked.
"Yes, me. What's wrong with that?"
He pushed the last remaining morsel of stewed rabbit around the rim of his plate. Far in the back of his mind he thought of how small rabbits are, how paltry they would seem to Crown.
"Well?" Laura demanded. "What's wrong with me making contact with one of the animals down there?"
"Nothing," he said.
"You don't seem very happy about it."
"I'm pretty tired, Laura. It's hard work, you know."
"Meaning that you think I can't do it?"
For the first time that evening, he really looked at her. She had a redhead's temper, all right.
"No, not at all. I'm sure you can do it. It's just . . . well, it's not easy, that's all."
Laura pushed her chair away from the table and grabbed the tray containing her half-finished meal. "I thought you'd be excited about it! I thought you'd be happy for me! But what everyone's saying is true, isn't it? You don't want anyone else to make contact with those animals. You want to be the only one!"
Before he could reply, she turned and stamped away from him, leaving him totally alone in the cafeteria.
Jeff ate alone from then on. And as his life in the Village
"Just a minute," he said, surprising himself with the steel in his voice. "I want to ask you something."
"What?" Carbo asked as he went to his chair in front of the control panel's main viewscreen.
"Yesterday, in Bishop Foy's office, you seemed to agree with him about . . ."
Carbo flung his head back and said to the ceiling, "Madonna mia, not you too! Peterson raked me over the coals for half an hour this morning."
"But you said . . ."
"I gave Foy an excuse to send a team down to the surface to implant more animals," Carbo said, heatedly. "He believes evolution is a false doctrine, and that's fine by me, as long as it helps us to do our work."
Jeff felt himself frown. "But you seemed to agree with him . . ."
"That if the apes are not fully intelligent now, they never will be. Yes, I allowed him to think I agree. So now he allows us to implant more animals, to study them more thoroughly, to get enough information about life down there so that we can make an intelligent decision about whether or not we should try to alter the planet enough to allow colonization to begin."
"Then you don't agree with Bishop Foy?"
"No. And I don't agree with Peterson, either. I think it's too early to make up our minds, one way or the other. We need to know much more, first. And we'll never learn more if we stand here all day talking !"
Jeff grinned with relief and headed for the door to the contact room. It was so much easier being Crown than being Jeffrey Holman.
The days stretched into weeks, and the weeks began to mount up toward a month. Jeff spent almost every waking moment in the contact lab, on the couch, in Crown's mind, his body. From sunrise to nightfall every day, he was Crown. He was in the wolfcat's brain when Crown woke each morning; he was there when the great beast hunkered down his huge body for sleep.
Jeff's routine became almost as instinctive as an animal's. He got up long before the rest of the Village was awake. He ate, exercised, and then went to the lab. Amanda was there waiting for him, always. Most of the time Dr. Carbo did not show up until much later, after Jeff was already on the couch, in contact with Crown.
Jeff treasured those few moments each morning with Amanda. He lived for them. He never dared to tell her that he loved her. He never dared to hope that she loved him. But just being close to her, near enough to hear her voice, to smell her perfume, kept him going from day to day.
Often at the end of a grueling day-long session Jeff would eat dinner at the autocafeteria in his own dome.
At first Laura managed to be there every evening, but Jeff found himself too tired, and too involved with thoughts of Amanda, to pay much attention to her.
"I'm trying out for a contact mission," Laura told him one evening, her green eyes shining with excitement.
"You?" Jeff asked.
"Yes, me. What's wrong with that?"
He pushed the last remaining morsel of stewed rabbit around the rim of his plate. Far in the back of his mind he thought of how small rabbits are, how paltry they would seem to Crown.
"Well?" Laura demanded. "What's wrong with me making contact with one of the animals down there?"
"Nothing," he said.
"You don't seem very happy about it."
"I'm pretty tired, Laura. It's hard work, you know."
"Meaning that you think I can't do it?"
For the first time that evening, he really looked at her. She had a redhead's temper, all right.
"No, not at all. I'm sure you can do it. It's just . . . well, it's not easy, that's all."
Laura pushed her chair away from the table and grabbed the tray containing her half-finished meal. "I thought you'd be excited about it! I thought you'd be happy for me! But what everyone's saying is true, isn't it? You don't want anyone else to make contact with those animals. You want to be the only one!"
Before he could reply, she turned and stamped away from him, leaving him totally alone in the cafeteria.
Jeff ate alone from then on. And as his life in the Village
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