The old man frowned. "How would you learn all this?"
"Field study. I want at least twenty intelligent men and a permanent camp somewhere in Lundy Forest."
Bidgrass folded his arms and shook his head. "Can't spare the men. And it's too dangerous—stompers would attack you day and night. I've had over two hundred egg hunters killed this year, and they're trained men in teams."
"Let me go out with a team then, use my own two eyes."
"Men wouldn't have you. I told you, they're superstitious about outworlders."
"Then it's failure! Your money and my doctorate go down the drain."
"You're young, you'll get your doctorate another place," the old man said. "You've tried hard, and I'll tell Belconti that." His voice was placating, but Cole thought he saw a wary glint in the hard gray eyes.
Cole shrugged. "I suppose I'll settle in and wait for Gorbals. But I've had pleasanter vacations."
He turned his back and scanned the shelves ostentatiously for a book. Bidgrass left the room quietly.
It was a boring evening. Pia was not in the garden. Cole looked at the barrier and the incredible cliff of Lundy Forest. He would like to get into that forest, just once. Hundred and fifty days before Gorbals ... why had they ever sent for him? They seemed to be conspiring to cheat him of his doctorate. They had, too.... Finally he slept.