up at the IV mechanically clicking fluids into his body. They had inserted the needle into the big vein on the back of his left hand. Good, they noticed I was right-handed. .. no stupid, no right hand to put it in. He gagged.
"Feeling nauseous?" Benson held a basin under his chin. "That's natural, the aftereffects of the anesthesia."
"I ... know. How ... long ... what time?"
"Oh, time. A little after three on Sunday."
"So ... long."
"Yes, physically you're very run down, and the massive shock and blood loss," he shrugged.
"I'm hurting."
"I'll send in a nurse with another shot."
"I'm very allergic to codeine. Use morphine or-"
"Doctors make the worst patients. Always trying to take over their own treatment." But Benson smiled as he made a notation on the record. "Go back to sleep."
Tach felt his lower lip trembling. "My hand."
"From what I've seen of the news clips you're lucky to have gotten off so lightly."
"Doctor." Benson paused at the door, looked back. "Don't tell them."
Benson scratched his chin. "About the virus, you mean?"
"Yes."
"I won't."
Eyes closed, Tachyon evaluated his condition. The painful throat from the endotrachial tube, the overall sense of disorientation from the anesthesia, a painfully distended bladder, and, overriding all, the thundering pain from his mangled arm. The phantom fingers of his right hand twitched convulsively.
If he were at home, he could have a hand regrown in a matter of weeks. But would the wild card virus now twined lovingly in his DNA permit a normal growth? Or would it place some horror at the end of his arm?
It seemed the final and ultimate irony that he, who had killed his own kin attempting to prevent the release of the virus and spent forty years laboring among its victims as a means of atonement, should be forced to suffer so much.
"Just manifest and get it over with!" he cried aloud. Tears ran hotly into the hair at his temples, and matted in his sideburns.
The virus maintained its smug silence.
4:00 P.M.
When Jack stepped into Tachyon's hospital room, he saw the red-haired alien writhing on the bed, clutching his stump.
"Jesus," Jack muttered, and walked fast to the bed. "What just happened?"
"I keep reaching for things with my right hand." Limply. "Call the nurse. Put your stump in a sling, help you remember."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Still cradling his stump.
Jack reached for a cigarette and lit up. "You want me to call the nurse, get you a shot?"
"No." Tachyon's mouth was a thin line.
Jack blew smoke at him. "People think I'm a macho asshole. They haven't dealt with Takisian princes, that's all." He glanced around the room. "Has Blaise been here today?"
"I've been sort of looking for him. I want to make sure he's okay."
"I have not seen him." Worry crossed Tachyon's features. "Someone saw hirn with Jay Ackroyd. That detective guy who zapped that freak away before I could pound him."
"And saved my life, from all reports," Tachyon pointed out. His left hand touched his stump. "If Blaise is unsupervised he could get into trouble."
"Precisely my thought."
Tachyon's manner turned imperious again. "Find my grandchild, Jack."
"I'll try."
Tachyon sat up; pointed with his good hand at the closet. "Get my clothes, will you?"
Jack looked at the alien in surprise. "Tach, don't worry. I'll find him."
"I must go to the convention."
Jack laughed nervously. "It's all over. You don't have to go anywhere."
Tachyon froze, his violet eves wide. "What do you mean?" Jack gave a sigh. "No one's told you, huh?"
"What happened?"
Jack hesitated. He didn't want to get into this. He took a long drag of smoke, tried to get it over with fast. "Gregg and Jesse cut a deal. Jackson withdrew and threw his support to Gregg. Gregg's got the nomination, Jackson will be veep."
"No." Tachyon's eyes dilated in horror. "No, no, no." Impatience rattled through Jack's mind. "Will you stop worrying about Gregg's stability, for heaven's sake? He put this whole deal together. He's on top of things, okay? Even with all these aces gunning after him."
"No! No! No!" A jolt of horror ran through Jack as Tachyon raised his right arm high, them brought his stump smashing down on the railing of his bed. The stump smashed down again and again.
Jack dropped his cigarette and grabbed Tach's arms. He wrestled the thrashing alien back to the mattress, held him till he calmed down. "What the hell's the matter with you?" Tachyon just glared at him.
The thought struck Jack with the force of a hurricane. Suddenly he felt as if he were. blown off his