"It takes a great mind to comprehend a touchstone on contact. But everything you need to know is..."
The medical officer put a hand to his cheek. "He's hot. Sir, is he entering up as a Bear?"
"No, I simply opened the channels. He shouldn't have the biological resour... wait... Design help us! I forgot. Oh me! Oh me! Your father was a Bear, I believe".
"I think so".
Sir licked his lips with a pustule-coated tongue. "You may have had the talent passed down to you".
The medical officer looked at Thunderbird. "We'd better isolate".
Thunderbird nodded, hurried off out of the grotto. Valentine heard a plant crash to the floor.
"Oh, and he needs calm now more than anything. Oh me, oh me,
I've been a fool. Careless! I expect he'll go mad. They said I was useless and they've been proven right again".
"Tell Thunderbird", Valentine said, feeling like he was floating away on a river. "Danger. Sir, you revealed yourself. Don't forget".
"We'll take care of it", the medical officer said. "What's that about?"
"He's confused", Sir said. "He must have thought... I had to take my true shape to guide him to the right part of the touchstone, make sure it didn't rush in all at once. I meant the danger was to him, not to me. Oh, this has been bunkum and confusion from the first".
"I'm going to sedate him", the medical officer said. She yanked a big white case from within a stand of ferns and opened it. The needle squirted something on Valentine as she positioned it above his arm. "I doubt it'll last...", Sir said.
"Long enough for him to get on the gurney".
Valentine, disoriented, half-awake, and anxious, didn't even feel the needle going in...
"Don't let him get up. Don't let him up", someone was shouting. A weight pressed on his chest. Valentine saw lightbulbs passing above, one after the other, each leaving a snail trail glowing on his retinas. His heart began to hammer.
Something was in his mouth, he bit down, it snapped, a tooth gave way.
And then a convulsion. Even though he felt that he was lying on his back, someone still managed to clobber him across the small of his back with what felt like a baseball bat. His arms and legs forgot how they worked. He smelled eucalyptus.
"Zap him again!" a voice shouted.
The gurney's wheels chattered as they passed over the uneven surface below. Valentine felt calm and collected, even as his body jumped under another jolt. The world faded away, but whispered to him that it would be back, new and improved.
* * *
Madness, fighting in vain against tentacles, bludgeons, ropes, the world had turned crimson and black, shadows surrounded him, baying like a wolf pack. But above and behind it was singing, the most perfect singing he'd ever heard, an angelic choir majestic. He sang along as he fought until he sagged in exhaustion.
* * *
He awoke to find himself in a dark room, his arms bound around his own waist as though he were mummified. No, straitjacket, it was a straitjacket, made out of thick leather. His legs were swathed in some kind of padding and buckled down flat. He sensed he was lying faceup, somewhere underground, but beyond that, he could tell nothing, except that he felt dirty all over, particularly itching and filthy between his legs.
"Hello?" he croaked.
Thirsty. So thirsty.
A presence at his side. He felt a plastic nozzle enter his mouth.
"Get ready to swallow, okay?" a voice said. Gide's, it was Gide.
He nodded, vaguely aware of tubes and wires connected to him. He suspected one of the wires could give him a jolt.
Water, just a tablespoon or two, went in his mouth, and he swallowed. So salty it tasted sweet. They repeated it. Twice.