There's no other way. It's safe now, with Gimli taken care of. Think of it.
Gregg was. And he knew exactly what he needed to do. "Maybe," he said in answer to Ellen's question. "Or maybe not as serious as I'd thought. There's other ways to deal with the problem. It's time to start using them."
" I'm sorry you and Dr. Tachyon quarreled, Gregg. He's such a nice man, but so stubborn."
"Don't worry about it, darling," he said. "Tachyon is just a temporary problem."
4:00 P.M.
It was like being on Mercury: The air-conditioning of the Marriott beat on his back as he stepped through the doors. The Atlanta heat started the sweat rolling down his face. The sidewalk was crowded with Jackson supporters waving brightred JESSE! signs. Just beyond them was the limo. Jackson clasped Tachyon's hand and lifted them up over their heads. Tachyon squirmed, dancing on his toes. The reverend was so much taller.
A ragged cheer went up, and they headed for the limo, smiling and shaking hands as the spectators crowded in around them. Jackson pressed the flesh with practiced ease. Tachyon looked at him enviously.
Ackroyd was waiting at the door of the car. "What now?"
"Jesse wants us to talk to the jokers outside the Omni," Tachyon explained. "He and I together. His positions on wild card issues are just as strong as Hartmann's, if they will only listen ..." He gave a long, deep sigh. "Jay, if you have other leads to follow up, there's really no need for you to come along."
Jay shrugged. "Might as well," he said, "can't dance." At least the limo was air-conditioned, Tachyon thought gratefully as they drove off.
Jackson's bodyguard, the ace called Straight Arrow, stared implacably across at him. Tach began to realize how hopeless, how stupid this was. They were not going to listen. Jesse would have a better chance without him. Tension made his voice jump as he blurted, "This is not going to work."
"Faith, Doctor," said Jackson.
He was wedged firmly between Jay Ackroyd and the reverend. He looked desperately from Jay to Jesse. "They hate me now."
The limo pulled up, and Jackson studied the ranks of silent jokers. "Only some. It's not as if you switched your support to Barnett. I'm not that unacceptable, am I?"
"Not to me." Tach gave the tall human's arm a squeeze. "And you will convince them. I know it."
"Well, help me a little."
"I will do my uttermost best."
Straight Arrow swung open the door of the black limousine, and Jackson and Tachyon stepped back out into the heat. The police had driven a wedge into the jokers. At the end of that long aisle was a flatbed truck equipped with a sound system. The heat was unbelievable, bouncing in waves off the pavement. As he watched, Tach saw Arachne's eight legs fold beneath her and she went down with a sigh. There was a flurry of movement as her nat daughter dropped down at her mother's side, and began fanning the unconscious woman with a folded newspaper.
"How can they hate them so?" Tachyon asked. The lilac eyes were wide with misery. "They are pitiful, and so brave. So very brave."
The crowd had noticed them. Uncertainty ran like a shiver through them, then large numbers began pushing forward against the lines of police as Jackson walked into their midst. Setting his jaw, Tachyon threw back his head, and followed. His eyes met Gills'. The joker's thick neck worked, the membranes over the gills fluttering. He hacked, and a gob' of thick white mucus hit Tachyon in the face. The alien recoiled, then lunged forward, hand outstretched, pleading for understanding. But Gills had already turned his back on Tachyon.
He mopped away the spittle, and they moved deeper into the crowd. Up ahead Tach could hear the ring of Jesse's voice, but the words eluded him. He was too busy scanning the crowd, evaluating the faces of his friends and people. Disinterest, outright hatred, sympathy. A shadow fell across him. Turtle. But Tommy flew on.
A huge, pallid figure snapped the linked arms of two policemen. A brick wall wasn't going to stop six-hundred pounds of Doughboy. He rolled to a stop before the tiny alien. "Doctor."
"Yes, dear." He couldn't bring himself to call the joker "Doughboy."
"They thaid Mith Thara's a twaitor, and now they thay you are too. I don't underthand. "
"It's very confusing, child."
"Don't you love the thenator anymore?"
Tach covered his eyes with a hand. "I love all of you better. "
"Funny way of showing it," howled