Free Proteus Unbound by Charles Sheffield

was lucky. But maybe there's more than luck involved. Maybe Wolf knows more than he admits, and maybe there's a good reason why he didn't get wiped out with the rest. And some reason why he agreed to come here, after first refusing. If so, I need to know all that. Pillow talk is better than truth drugs. If you could get close to him, persuade him to confide in you—"
    "I can't do it!" Sylvia had not listened to anything past Baker's first sentence. "It's totally out of the question. I'm willing to do most things, but that's too much to ask anybody . And anyway," she added, reaching for a second reason, "I'm sure it's mutual. He'd never want to look twice at me."
    "Maybe." Baker stopped stroking Turpin's back and fixed cool blue eyes on Sylvia. "But maybe not."
    "You've seen what Snugger women are like. Short and brown, all fat and hips and breasts. He must think we're hideous. My God, I'm a foot taller than he is, if I'm an inch. And miles too skinny for Earth taste. And anyway—"
    "Anyway," Turpin said suddenly. "Anyway, anyway, in for a penny-way." He took off with an excited flapping of black wings, flew up and around in a lurching spiral, and landed leering on Cinnabar Baker's shoulder.
    "You underestimate the effects of prolonged personal interaction," Baker was saying. She smiled. "In other words, talking leads to touching. And beauty is easy. A few hours in a form-change tank—not that I'm suggesting this, you understand—and you could be Wolf's ideal of beauty."
    "Never. I'm sorry, but I won't even consider it. That's final." Sylvia stood up. She had to leave as soon as possible, before Cinnabar Baker could try again to talk her into something.
    And so much for her own career as a control specialist—her now-blighted career. It had been ruined in the past five minutes.
    The last thought was the bitterest of all. When the original summons had come from Cinnabar Baker, Sylvia had been flattered and excited. The quality of her work must have singled her out for special attention. She would be assigned to the visitor from the Inner System because she had unusual competence in form-change and systems work.
    Now it was clear that her professional skills had nothing to do with it. Her role was that of convenient female, a lure set out to catch Bey Wolf. And now that she had refused? Cinnabar Baker might say she did not hold it against her, but she would. Sylvia's career was in tatters.
    "Please excuse me now." She looked at Baker, found no words, and headed blindly for the door.
    Cinnabar Baker watched her leave. As expected, Sylvia Fernald had refused—vehemently. But the idea had been planted. Now Sylvia would be unable to meet and work with Behrooz Wolf, without also evaluating him at some level as a prospective partner. And that was all Baker had hoped to achieve.
    "Hormones are everything, Turpin," she said to the bird on her shoulder. "Brains are nice, and looks are nice, and logic's even nicer; but hormones run the show. For everyone, even for me and you. But we never know it. I hope I wasn't too hard on Sylvia. Let's see if she'll change her mind when she knows him better."
    The night's work was far from over. Humming softly to herself, Cinnabar Baker bent over the desktop communications unit and reviewed the official statement she had prepared warning the Inner System about their interference in Outer System affairs. It would do. There were a couple of key words that could have been stronger—"demand" instead of "request," and "intolerable" was better than "impermissible"—but they were easily fixed.
    She approved the statement for release. Then she entered coded mode and requested a dedicated circuit for new, real-time communication. There was a moment's delay pending approval of heliocentric coordinates outside the usual network. That was cleared, using Baker's own authorization. The scrambling codes were assigned. Finally, on the outermost structures of the harvester, the half-kilometer antenna turned its