"Research is my first love. You're right. My life's goal is to eradicate the wild card. To find a way to purge it from the human gene pool."
She said it flatly, but Cody's eyebrows went up. "You feel strongly."
"You're damn right I do. The wild card is the most heinous disease inflicted on the human race. Not as bad as AIDS in its physical effects, perhaps - for most wild card victims who die, death occurs quickly, and there is a ten percent chance of survival. Even a small chance of benefit. But because it can spread by both spores and inheritance, it's extremely difficult to eradicate. My great fear is that it may already be too late. And the way we were infected deliberately, that enrages me. I'll always despise the Takisians for that."
Clara broke off and unclenched her fists, disturbed by her own intensity. She fiddled with some papers on her desk.
Cody was watching her with that penetrating, speculative look again. Clara's outburst hung in the air between them like a bad smell.
"My mother died of the wild card when I was five," she explained. "It's given me strong feelings in the matter."
Cody's expression softened. "That stinks."
"So." It was Clara's turn to shrug. "I've dedicated my life to finding a way to loosen the wild card's grip on the human race."
Cody's gaze went again to the files and resource materials. "So you're here to expand your studies, then?"
Guilt made Clara's stomach muscles clench. "You might say. Obviously" - with a sweep of her hand encompassing the stacks of files - "I'm interested in Dr. Tachyon's work. But I'm also here to get a dose of reality. Make contact with the people the virus is affecting. Try to understand the disease on the human level."
The words tasted foul in her mouth. Nothing could be further from the truth; staying detached from the wild card's victims, keeping her perspective as clinical as possible, was critical. But the probing look on Cody's face had been replaced by one of compassion.
"I have some advice, if you'll hear it."
"Please."
Cody slouched in the chair and laced her fingers about her midsection. Her lab coat fell open. Beneath it she wore a cotton blouse, jeans, and short boots the same black as her eye patch. "With your background, I believe you have the potential to be a tremendous asset to this clinic. But you've already observed how nervous the staff is about you right now."
Clara thought of that joker physician, Finn. The centaur. A short laugh escaped her. "Bristling, more like."
"Granted. Some are angry. They wanted a joker administrator. It's nothing personal. Frankly, you must be aware of the sort of prejudice jokers are up against, and how defensive it can make them. So. My advice to you is, be the first to reach out. Let the staff know that you rely on them. Get involved. It's the only way you'll earn their trust. And it'll make your job a whole lot easier."
Clara looked the older woman over for a long moment. It would have been easy to feel condescended to, but something in Cody's easy manner penetrated Clara's reserve.
She nodded, thoughtfully. "I'll certainly consider your advice, Dr. Havero. Cody."
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
Once alone, she glanced at her watch. It was past midnight on the Continent. She'd probably wake him. With a wince, she picked up the phone and punched in an international number.
A series of clicks, as the call was relayed through several exchanges, then a man's voice said, "Hier ist Rudo."
The line hissed and crackled like water dropped on a hot skillet. Clara stuck a finger in her ear.
"Uncle Pan. I hope I didn't wake you."
"PC! Not at all. I am unfortunately all too busy these days; sleep is low on my list of priorities. I understand that you're official now. How has your first week been? How is your research proceeding?"
"Well." Clara cleared her throat. "That's why I'm calling. I have a bit of a problem. Apparently some anti-wild carders have been picketing the Jokertown Clinic, and it's interfering with my research. A demonstration is planned for next week. I wonder if there's anything you could do to stop it?"
"Hmm. That's too soon for me to be able to do much."
"I was afraid of that."
"As you know, it could be viewed as rather counterproductive to interfere with the demonstrations."
So. The demonstrations were being orchestrated by someone in the organization.
"I think I understand your difficulty," she said slowly. "My problem is, the Clinic's trustees are divided over my appointment - I was appointed over the head of a popular joker physician, and a couple of the Board members are looking for any excuse to get rid of me. So I can't afford to look like I'm not doing my job. And the more hassles I have to deal with here, the less time I'll have for my own research back at the UN lab."
"I see. So perhaps, strategically, it would be wise to take the heat off the Clinic for a while."
"Exactly. If you could at least pull some strings so that we can get the local police out to keep things under control - "
"I'll make some calls."
"Thanks."
An awkward pause ensued. "Have you spoken to your father yet?"
"No." It came out a bit too sharply.
"I'm not trying to pressure you."
The hell you're not, Clara thought, and then felt ashamed.
"I know how much you adore your father, and how confused his attitude must make you feel."
Clara wiped away a truant tear. "I'm a grown woman, Pan, and a scientist. My father's choices have done nothing to confuse my own. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep that in mind."
It felt better, not calling him uncle.
She thought she could hear him breathing on the other end of the line, amid the pops and hisses.
"I'm glad to hear it," he said finally. Another pause. "Talk to him, Clara. You're the only one who can reach him now, and we need him."
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
The woman's hand resting on his was moist and puffy - compared to the grip of most jokers it was a positive pleasure. What wasn't a pleasure was the state of her unborn baby, and the war which was being waged between her body, the baby, and the wild card. The mother's card wasn't that bad. Her eyes were set wide into her head, and three strange, antenna-like protrubances grew from each temple. She was also not a citizen of Jokertown. She was a happily married woman from Syracuse, but the hospitals and doctors in her home town had refused to afford her pre-natal care, or deliver the baby. She and her husband had come seeking help at Jokertown's Jokertown Clinic.
And we're falling down on the job, thought Finn. With each passing day it became less and less likely this baby would ever reach term. Her puffy hand tightened, giving his a quick squeeze.
"Doctor?" The unspoken question hung in the air.
Finn's bedside manner was not quite as brutal as his predecessor, Tachyon's, had been, but he didn't believe in lying to patients.
"The blood workup doesn't look good, Maggie. I've been talking to some specialists ..." The flow of words stuttered briefly as a new, novel, and annoying thought intruded. He resumed. "And while they've got some ideas, we're a long way from answers."
"Jimmy and I, we really want this baby. We can't adopt because ... because." The pain and humiliation showed in her face.
"Yeah, I know. We'll do something."
Out in the corridor he stood for several seconds; wrestled with his pride. It wasn't all that close a battle, his ego weighed against a baby's life ... no contest, but he dreaded the coming interview, and what if she refused?
Up two floors to that implacably closed door. Finn knocked, entered on her invitation. She wore reading glasses, and they looked good on her. Instead of making her look bookish they somehow softened the lines of that long face, and made her look cute. There was the usual brief struggle with her features, which she mostly won.