Dad."
"Roger!"
"Sorry, sir."
"All right, Roger," said the old man. "Make ready to break orbit as soon as possible. And send Ching to the reception room. Have Olivera there, too. In fact, stall Ching a bit, and have Manny get there a few minutes earlier. Tell him I'll be right down."
"Yes, sir ."
"But, Peter," said Manuel Olivera, his dark eyes raised to the ceiling in supplication, "I am not a theoretical physicist. I am not a mathematician. I am a tinkerer, a librarian, a maker of stinks, a—"
"Manny! Manny! Please!" said the captain. "I know the whole song and dance by now. Nevertheless, you are the Outward Bound 's chief scientist."
"Yes, yes," said the small dark-skinned man excitedly, "but you know as well as I do that all that means is that I'm a glorified librarian. We—"
"All right, all right. All I want you to do is be here, and pay attention. This Dr. Ching has something of value, I'm sure of it. And we may not have him very long. We've got to be quick, and—" "Dr. Ching pen Yee to see you, captain," said an orderly.
"Send him in."
Dr. Ching was a small, though well-built man of about sixty. His straight black hair was parted neatly in the middle. Only his shifting eyes betrayed his nervousness.
"Thank you for accepting my passage, Captain Reed," he said.
"Not at all, Dr. Ching. Frankly, we hope you may be of value to us. As you know, the lifeblood of a tradeship is knowledge. We sell it, and we buy it. To be blunt, we have bought you from Maxwell. You get passage with us, for as long as you want, and in return, we expect you to share your knowledge."
"But, captain," said Ching nervously, "I am a mathematical physicist. You are engaged in the business of selling practical technological knowledge. We mathematical physicists are not noted for producing marketable knowledge."
Reed frowned. This Ching was cool, and he was scared. A tough combination to crack.
"Please let Mr. Olivera and myself be the judge of that. By the way, I believe I've forgotten to introduce you. This is Manuel Olivera, our chief scientist."
"How do you do, Mr. Olivera," said Ching smoothly. "Captain Reed, really you are wasting your time. I am purely a theorist."
Reed wondered if he should spring his knowledge of Admiral ben Ezra's pursuit. He decided it could wait. "Suppose you just tell us what you're working on?" he said.
Ching fidgeted. "Mathematical theory," he said.
"Come now, Dr. Ching," snapped Olivera, "we are not complete scientific ignoramuses, you know. What sort of theory?"
"A development of a small corollary to the Special Theory of Relativity."
"Oh?" said Olivera. "Involving what?"
Ching's eyes flickered from focus to focus like a bird's. "Involving . . . some work with transfinite substitutions," he said vaguely.
Olivera continued his pursuit. "Transfinite substitutions? Where? For what?"
Ching laughed falsely. "Really, Mr. Olivera," he said. "It's all a complicated mathematical exercise. It amuses me to substitute infinite and transfinite numbers for some of the variables. As I said, nothing practical."
"Just why are you doing this?" snapped Olivera.
"Really," said Ching blandly, "that's an unanswerable question. Indeed. Why do men climb mountains? Because they are there. Really, gentlemen, I'm quite tired. May I be excused?"
Olivera was about to continue his sortie, but the captain waved him off.
"Of course," he said. "We will soon be leaving for Nuova Italia. In about two hours. We will have time to talk again, before we all go into Deep Sleep. By all means, rest up."
"Thank you, captain," said Ching. An orderly was called, and he led Ching off.
"Well, Manny?" asked the captain.
"Well, what? Am I a mind reader? Gibberish. Vagueness. Perhaps outright lies. I ask you, Peter, would Jacob ben Ezra travel fifty light-years after someone engaged in 'a complicated mathematical exercise?' Would Earth give a damn?"
"Of course not," said the captain.
"Then why in space didn't you tell him that