Ace In The Hole

"HEY!"

Shouts. A wall of people advancing upon him. Phones shrilling. A television pouring its electronic inanities into the crowded suite.

"Get out of my way! GET OUT OF MY WAY! WHERE IS HE? I MUST SEE HIM!" His voice ringing shrilly in his own ears.

"You can't just waltz in here-" bawled Straight Arrow. People had gripped him by arms and legs, lifting him completely off the ground. Tach screamed with fury, and writhed in their grasps. Mind-controlling people frantically, he felt the holds on him loosen, then jerk tight again as new people stepped forward to replace those he had dropped slumbering to the floor.

The connecting door to the bedroom flew open, banging violently into the far wall. Jesse Jackson, reading glasses clutched in his hand, glared at his supporters, and roared, "LET HIM GO!"

The two oldest Jackson sons pushed back the irate staffers. The very pretty and very self-possessed Jackie Jackson helped Tachyon smooth his coat. Slowly order was restored. Jesse Jackson beckoned to Tachyon, and he joined him in the bedroom. The door closed, blocking off the worst of the noise, and the curious gawking faces.

"Here." Tachyon opened his eyes. Jackson had thrust a hotel glass filled with scotch under his nose. "You believe in making an entrance, don't you, Doctor? You couldn't have just called and asked to see me?"

Tach pressed a hand to his eyes. "I didn't think." Squaring his shoulders he pushed up and off the wall that had been supporting him. "Call a press conference, Reverend. You have just become the new, best hope for the wild cards."

Jackson seemed bereft of words. He slapped his hand against his thigh then took several quick turns about the cramped room.

"Why?" His tone and expression were equally grim. "Upon reflection I have become convinced of the strength of your arguments."

"Bull. You roar in here like a madman. You're shaking like a leaf… " Desperately Tachyon clasped his hands, trying to still the betraying tremors. "What's happened?"

The Takisian flung out a hand in a sharp jagged gesture. "Do you want what I am offering you, or not?"

"Yes. But I want to know why."

"No."

"Yes. Look, Doctor, you're going to have to tell the press something. You may as well practice on me."

The bed in the suite was an elaborate canopied affair. Tachyon wrapped his hands about the neweled post, and rested his forehead against the wood. In a flat monotone he recited, "Gregg Hartmann's instabilities are well-documented. Though everyone hoped that the tragedy of 1976 was forever behind the senator I have determined that this morning's events have badly shaken the candidate, and I cannot in good conscience support the gentleman in his bid to secure the presidential nomination of the Democratic Party." He dropped his hands, and turned to face Jackson. "There, will that do?"

Jackson smoothed his mustache with a forefinger, "Yes, I think it just might." His eyes were grave as he looked down at the tiny alien. "Do you fully understand the consequences of what you are doing?"

"oh, yes." The words came out, carried on a breath. "And that doesn't deter you?"

"I cannot let it." Tach headed for the door. Paused with his hand on the knob, and looked back, "I am trusting you with my people, Reverend. You had best not prove my faith unfounded."