An impassive nurse pulled back the screen, revealing an emaciated old man. His eyes gazed desperately up at the doctors, and horrible muffled sounds emerged from his lips.
"An interesting case, this," said Mandel, lifting the file. "For some bizarre reason the virus is causing every cavity in this man's body to grow closed. Within a few days his lungs will be unable to pull air, nor will there be room for the proper functioning of his heart…"
"So why not end it?" Tachyon took the man's hand, noting the assenting squeeze that answered his words.
"What are you suggesting?" Mandel lowered his voice to an urgent hiss.
Tachyon enunciated each word clearly. "Nothing can be done. Would it not be kinder to spare him this lingering death?"
"I don't know what passes for medicine on your world-or maybe I do, judging from this Hell-born virus you createdbut on this world we do not murder our patients."
Tach felt the hinges of his jaw tighten in anger. "You'll put a dog or cat down mercifully, but you deny your people the only drug known to truly alleviate pain, and you force people into agonizing death. Oh… be damned to you!"
He threw back his white coat, revealing a gorgeous outfit of dull gold brocade, and seated himself on the edge of the bed. The man reached desperately up, and Tachyon gripped his hands. It was an easy matter to enter his mind.
Die, let me die, came the thought tinged with the flavor of pain and fear, and yet there was a calm certainty in the man's request.
I cannot. They will not permit it, but I can give you dreams. He moved swiftly, blocking the pain and the reasoning centers of the man's mind. In his own mind he visualized it as a literal wall built of glowing silver-white blocks of power. He gave a boost to the man's pleasure centers, allowing him to drift away in dreams of his own concocting. What he had built was temporary, it would last only a few days, but that would be long enough-before then this joker would have died.
He rose, and looked down at the man's peaceful face. "What did you do?" demanded Mandel.
He raked the other doctor with an imperious glance. "Just a bit more Hell-born Takisian magic."
With a lordly nod to the residents, he left the ward. Out in the hall, beds lined the walls, and an orderly was picking his way carefully down the passage. Shirley Dashette beckoned to him from the nurses' station. They had spent several pleasant evenings together exploring the differences and similarities between Takisian and human lovemaking, but tonight he could manage no more than a smile, and the lack of a physical response alarmed him. Maybe it was time to take a rest. "Yes?"
"Dr. Bonners would like to consult with you. The patient's in shock, and occasionally lapses into hysterics, but there's nothing physically wrong with her, and he thought-"
"That she might be one of mine." Oh God, don't let her be another joker, he groaned inwardly. I don't think I can face another monstrosity. "Where is she?"
"Room 223."
He could feel exhaustion shivering along his muscles and licking at the nerves. And close on the heels of the exhaustion came despair and self-pity. With a muttered curse he drove his fist into the top of the desk, and Shirley drew back.
"Tach? Are you all right?" Her hand was cool against his cheek.
"Yes. Of course." He forced his shoulders back and a spring into his step, and headed off down the hall. Bonners was huddled with another doctor when Tachyon pushed open the door. Bonners frowned, but seemed more than willing to allow him to take charge when the woman in the bed let out a piercing scream and arched against the restraints. Tach leaped to her side, laid a gentle hand on her forehead, and joined with her mind.
OH GOD! The election, would Riley come through? God knows he'd paid enough for it. He'd buy a victory, but he was damned if he'd buy a landslide… Mama, I'm frightened… The bite of a winter morning, and the hiss of a skate blade cutting across the ice… A hand, gripping hers… wrong hand. Where was Henry? To leave her now… how many more hours… he should be here… Another contraction coming. NO. She couldn't hear it. Mama… Henry… PAIN!
He reeled back, and came up panting against the dresser.
"Good Lord, Doctor Tachyon, are you all right?" Bonners's hand was on his arm.
"No… yes… by the Ideal." He pulled himself carefully upright. His body still ached in sympathetic memory of the woman's first anguished labor. But where in the hell had that second personality come from, that cold, hard-edged man?
Shaking off Bonners's hand, he returned to the woman and seated himself on the edge of the bed. More cautious this time, he ran swiftly through some calming and strengthening exercises, and struck out with his full psi powers. Her fragile mental defenses fell before the onslaught, and before she could sweep him up in her mental maelstrom he gripped her mind.
Like a blossom, delicate velvet trembling in a breeze with just a hint…
He forced himself out of the almost-sensual enjoyment of the mental sharing, and back to the task at hand. Now fully in command, he quickly sifted through her head. What he found added a new wrinkle to the saga of the wild card.
In the early days of the virus they had seen mostly death. Close to twenty thousand of them in the Manhattan area. Ten thousand due to the effects of the virus, another ten due to the rioting, looting, and the National Guard. Then there were the jokers: hideous monsters created from a union of the virus and their own mental constructs. And finally there were the aces. He had seen about thirty of them. Fascinating people with exotic powers-the living proof that the experiment was a success. They had created, despite the terrible toll, superbeings. And now here was a new one with a power unique among the other aces.
He withdrew, leaving only a single tendril of control like reins in the hands of an accomplished horseman. "Yes, you were quite correct, Doctor, she's one of mine."
Bonners waggled his hands in a gesture of absolute and total confusion. "But how… I mean, don't you usually… do tests?" he finished lamely.
Tach relaxed, and grinned at his colleague's confusion. "I just did. And it's the most remarkable thing; this woman has somehow managed to absorb all of her husband's knowledge and memories." His smile died as a new thought intruded. "I suppose we really ought to send someone to their home to see if poor old Henry is a mindless hulk shambling around the bedroom. For all we know she may have sucked him dry. Mentally speaking, of course."
Bonners looked decidedly queasy, and went. The other doctor left with him.
Tachyon dismissed them, and the fate of Henry van Renssaeler, from his thoughts, and concentrated on the woman on the bed. Her mind and psyche were fissured like rotten ice, and some very quick repair work would have to be done lest the personality shatter under the stress and she descend into madness. Later he would try for a more permanent construct, but it would be patchwork at best. His father would be perfect for this, the repair of broken minds being his gift. But since he was far away on Takis, she would have to depend on Tach's lesser abilities.
"There, my dear," he murmured as he began to work at the knotted sheets that kept her tied to the bed. "Let's make you a bit more comfortable, and then I'll begin teaching you some mental disciplines to keep you from going totally crazy." He reentered the full mindlink. Her mind fluttered beneath his, confused, unable to understand the magnitude of the change that had come over her.
I'm mad… it couldn't have happened… gone mad.
No, the virus…
He's really there… can't bear it.
Then don't. See, here and here, reroute and place him deep below.
NO! Take him out, away!
Not possible; control the only answer.