Aces Abroad

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"

Sharp teeth bit deep into his wrist. Tachyon silenced the boy with a crushing imperative. Supported the sleeping child with one arm'. He and Bonnell regarded one another over the limp figure.

"Bravo, Doctor. You outfoxed me. But what a media event my trial will be."

"I'm afraid not."

"Eh?"

"I require a body. One infected with the wild card. Then the Surete will have their mysterious mentat ace and will look no further."

"You can't be serious! You can't mean to kill me in cold blood." He read the answer in Tachyon's implacable lilac gaze. Bonnell tottered back, came up short against a wall, moistened his lips. "I treated you fairly, kindly. You took no hurt from me."

"But others have not fared so well. You shouldn't have sent Blaise to me. He was quick to tell me of your other triumphs. An innocent banker, controlled by Blaise, sent into his bank carrying his own death. That bomb blast killed seventeen. Clearly a triumph."

Bonnell's face shifted, took on the aspect of Thomas Tudbury, the Great and Powerful Turtle. "Please, I beg you. At least grant me the opportunity for a trial."

"No," The features shifted again-Mark Meadows, Captain Trips blinked confusedly at the gun. "I think the outcome is fairly predictable." Danelle, but as she had been all those long years ago. "I merely hasten your execution."

A final transformation. Shoulder-length sable hair cascading over the shoulders, long sooty lashes brushing at her cheeks, lifting to reveal eyes of a profound midnight blue. Blythe.

"Tachy, please."

"I'm sorry, but you're dead." And Tach shot him.

"Ah, Doctor Tachyon." Franchot de Valmy rose from his desk, hand outstretched. "France owes you a great debt of gratitude. How can we ever repay you?"

"By issuing me a passport and visa."

"I'm afraid I don't understand. You of course-"

"Not for me. For Blaise Jeannot Andrieux."

De Valmy fiddled with a pen. "Why not merely apply?"

"Because Francois Andrieux is currently in custody. Checks will be run, and I can't allow that."

"Aren't you being a bit forthright with me?"

"Not at all. I know what an expert you are on falsified documents." The Frenchman froze, then shifted slowly to the back of his chair. " I know you're not an ace, Monsieur de Valmy. I wonder, how would the French public react to news of such a cheat? It would cost you the election."

De Valmy forced past stiff lips, "I am a very capable public servant. I can make a difference for France."

"Yes, but none of that is half so alluring as a wild card."

"What you're asking is impossible. What if it's traced to me? What if-" Tachyon reached for the phone. "What are you doing?"

"Calling the press. I too can arrange press conferences at a moment's notice. One of the privileges of fame."

"You'll get your documents."

"Thank you."

"I'll find out why you're doing this."

Tachyon paused at the door, glanced back. "Then we'll each have a secret on the other, won't we?"

The big plane was darkened for the late-night hop to London. The first-class section was deserted save for Tach, Jack, and Blaise, sleeping soundly in his grandfather's arms.

There was something about the little tableau that warned everyone to stay well away.

"How long are you gonna keep him under?" The single reading light pulled fire from the twin red heads.

"Until we reach London."

"Will he ever forgive you?"

"He won't know"

"About Bonnell maybe, but the rest he'll remember. You betrayed him."

"Yes." It was scarcely audible over the rumble of the engines. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I forgive you." Their eyes met.

The human reached down, softly pushed back a lock of silky hair from the child's forehead. "Then I guess maybe there's hope for you too."