"Is Tachyon in? There's an emergency-"

The nurse sighed and looked at Brennan with weary eyes old beyond her years. He wondered briefly how many people had said these very words to her, how many desperate life-and-death situations she'd had to deal with.

"Dr. Tachyon is busy now. Dr. Havero is on call."

"I need Tachyon's expertise=" Brennan began, then stopped.

From somewhere came the faint whiff of salt and fish and briny water. From somewhere came the unmistakable tang of the sea.

Brennan whirled around. A cluster of vending machines was set off in the corner of the receiving area, offering soft drinks, soda, and candy. Standing before one of them was a huge figure in priestly robes, humming softly to himself as he made his selection.

"Father Squid!" Brennan cried.

The priest turned his head toward the reception desk, the nictitating membranes covering his eyes blinking rapidly in surprise. "Daniel?"

Father Squid was a stout joker, huge in his priestly cassock. A few inches taller than Brennan, he weighed about a hundred pounds more. He looked solid, not blubbery, with broad shoulders, a thick chest, and a comfortably padded stomach. His hands were large, with long, sinuous-looking fingers and lines of vestigial suckers on their palms. He had a fall of tentacles instead of a nose, and he always smelled faintly, not unpleasantly, of the sea.

He was Brennan's friend and confidant. They'd known each other since Nam, where the priest had been a sergeant in the joker Brigade and Brennan a recondo captain. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"Jennifer's been shot," Brennan said tersely, "and she's fading. I need Tachyon."

Father Squid moved quickly for a man his size. He rolled up to the desk with a smooth, fluid gait and said to the nurse, "Call Tachyon, now"