Ivan woke up. He could tell he was still in sick bay, even before his waking mind put the memories of the last twenty-four hours back into order. He shuddered. He’d panicked out there on Baby Rock, and he admitted to mild embarrassment about that. He’d probably find himself the proud owner of a new nickname, way worse than “sprout”. Screechy? Babbles? Eek?

Or maybe Stubby.

As his memory reintegrated, he remembered the metal arm. It hadn’t felt different, from inside. Just his arm. But made of metal. They’d talked about it, then decided to amputate. Sure, these days you could get a new limb or organ or pretty much anything regrown.

Still, for the rest of the trip home, he’d be handicapped.

Judy, babe, am I going to have a story to tell you! Ivan hoped the kids wouldn’t have to see him with the missing arm. It would freak them out.

Well, the doc was right, though. It was a small price to pay…

Ivan reached to throw off the covers with his right hand before he remembered that he no longer had a right hand. He sat up abruptly and snapped open his eyes…

Dr. Kemp burst through the door, his hair in disarray, and Ivan realized he was screaming. Again. He raised his arm—the right arm, the one that had just been amputated—and wiggled his fingers.

Dr. Kemp’s eyes goggled. He stepped back slowly and felt for the intercom button without taking his eyes off the arm.

* * *

“How is this possible?” Captain Jennings glared at Dr. Kemp. Charlie couldn’t really blame him. The whole thing sounded like a sick joke.

“I don’t know, sir. But Ivan has a complete right arm, metal up to the biceps now.” Dr. Kemp shook his head, slowly. “I can’t explain this. I can’t explain it at all.”

“There are a number of issues we have to deal with,” said Chief MacNeil.

No shit, Sherlock. What clued you in? The thought was unworthy, and Kemp carefully gave no indication of it on his face.

“One,” the chief continued, “where is the metal for the new arm coming from? And, two, where is the material from the old arm going?”

“Transmutation?” asked Aiello.

“I’d just as soon not go there, yet,” the chief answered. “Granted, we’re out of our depth here, technologically, but in the absence of direct evidence, transmutation of elements seems a bit extreme.”

Dr. Kemp nodded. Then his eyebrows furrowed as a thought occurred to him. He moved to the cot that held a sedated Ivan Pritchard, went down on his knees, and looked underneath.

“Uh huh. Look here.” Dr. Kemp grabbed a surgical glove and used it to push a small quantity of white powder into a pile. “I bet this is almost all raw calcium. Well, calcium carbonate, anyway. All that’s left of the bones of Ivan’s arm.”