"How could I trick you? This is a direct download from my brain."

The Mouth sneered. Again. Falling back on the tried-and-true strengths of his facial repertoire. "Things can be loaded into your brain as well as out of it," he said. "Link-seeds are two-way technology."

"It could have been done without your knowledge," the Muscle added. "The Vigil has protected your brain with safety locks, but no security is perfect. Someone could have pumped that whole scenario into your mind; you wouldn’t know the difference between planted images and real life."

Blah, blah, blah. As if we hadn’t discussed this a thousand times at the College Vigilant. Yes, it could be done… with the right equipment and at least a day of finessing past the security blocks. And yes, the idea of someone jacking into my brain gave me the white willies if I thought about it too long. But Christ Almighty, you could brainwash anyone, given enough time. And if ever someone did try to monkey with our link-seeds, the world-soul would notice the next time we made contact. Digital signatures and all that.

"Look," I said, "I’ve only had my link-seed for a few weeks… and the Vigil’s been watching it very close for medical reasons. No one could have tampered with me."

"Except the Vigil itself," Mouth said. "When it had you in its hands for two weeks during mushor. They could have done anything to you."

"They didn’t."

"Of course, that’s what you’d believe." The Mouth gave me a nasty smile. As if petty innuendo was enough to stir up mistrust.

I sighed. "Mushor ended two weeks before the mess at the pump station. How could the Vigil plant false memories of something that hadn’t happened yet?"

"It could be done," the Mouth answered airily. Fair unconvincing too. Which told me these chumps had already decided on their course of action, and weren’t going to heed any argument against.

"Look," I said, "what’s this all about really? What do you think you’re going to do?"

"We’re going to shunt into your brain," the Mouth answered. Gloating. "We’re going to verify whether these Sperm-tail images were put in artificially. If someone has scribbled on your cerebellum, there should be obvious differences between the implanted memories and naturally acquired ones. Obvious to us if not to you. My partner and I will go in to check."

"You want to access me?" I growled.

"That’s it."

"Like hell you will."

The Mouth favored me with another nasty smile. "This is not an optional exercise, Ms. Smallwood. The Admiralty has authorized us to conduct this investigation however we deem necessary. If you won’t confess to this being a hoax…"

"Or if you can’t," the Muscle put in. "Then we’ll crack you open for a look-see." I stared at them. The only light in the room was the glow of the hologram, casting a yellowish gleam on their faces. The Mouth wore the leer of a man who’d enjoy violating me; the Muscle had a noncommittal look, neither eager nor uncomfortable. He’d do what he’d decided to do — he wouldn’t enjoy it, but he wouldn’t agonize about it either.

My throat had turned to gravel. "How about if I demand to see your superiors?"

"We have no superiors on Demoth," Mouth retorted. "Not even the local commander knows we’re here. Or knows you’re here. So if I were you, Ms. Smallwood, I’d lie back on the bed now. It may take hours for us to penetrate your link’s security locks, and you won’t injure yourself so much if you’re resting on a soft surface."

"We’ll be as careful as we can," the Muscle added, "but it’s not going to be easy."

The Mouth nodded. "Think of an epileptic seizure. One that lasts all day long."

I swallowed hard. "Look," I told the Mouth, taking a step toward him, "use your head for a second. How can this be a trick to fool the Admiralty? Who’d want to fool the Admiralty? Why go to the extreme of killing eight proctors just to…"

"To plant false evidence on us?" the Mouth suggested. "Killing eight proctors was the perfect way to catch the fleet’s attention. Mass murder is big; it’s flashy. It guaranteed the commander here would do some investigating, and send the results to the High Council." Mouth showed no sign of concern as I stepped forward again through the hologram. "Doesn’t that sound like a deliberate plot to bring us in?"

"But who’s plotting?" I insisted. "What would anyone gain from deceiving the Admiralty?"

"We don’t know," the Muscle answered. "That’s what bothers us."

"You don’t know how it concerns the navy," I said, taking another step, "but you’re sure it does? Every little mystery has to be about you?"

"Yes," the Mouth and the Muscle said together.

Which was when I broke Mouth’s knee.

It was a jerk-simple side-kick, hard and low — my instep hit the sweet spot of his patella and drove it backward till his whole leg bent the wrong way. Mouth hadn’t suspected a thing. Maybe these two spent so much time researching my link-seed, they’d overlooked the punch’n’crunch training the Vigil gave every proctor.

Always a mistake to concentrate on the mental and ignore the physical.

Mouth screamed… part pain, part the sight of seeing his knee angled back like a grasshopper’s. Damned sissy mainstreamer probably never took a good hit before. The Mouth didn’t even put up his guard when I stepped in to hand-strike range, so I gave him a good palm-heel in the solar plexus to shut him up.

He wheezed and fell. Still breathing, of course, but fierce unhappy about it.

When I turned to the Muscle, he’d backed up against the door and drawn a stun-pistol. "Stand where you are, please," he said.

"Why should I?"

"Because I’ll shoot if you don’t. We can pry into your brain, even if you’re stunned cold; it’s just harder when we can’t see your conscious response. More chance of us making a regrettable mistake. But if that’s the way you want to play it…"

"Shoot her!" Mouth gasped. At least I think that’s what he said — he didn’t have much air in his lungs for making words.

"I won’t shoot unless I have to," the Muscle said, still calm, keeping his gaze focused on me. "No sense in jeopardizing the mission, just because one of us got careless." He gestured toward the bed with the barrel of his pistol. "Are you going to lie down, Ms. Smallwood? Or do we do this the hard way?"

I stared at him, sizing up the situation. Unlike Mouth, the Muscle had been prepared for my attack; maybe he’d expected it as soon as I began inching forward. He wouldn’t hesitate to fire if I took the teeniest step toward him… and I knew from recent experience how fast stun-guns worked. The ultrasonic blast would drop me long before I got within kicking distance.

Throw something at him? No; there was nothing I could grab fast enough. Maybe if I yanked up the Mouth, I could use his body as a shield, let it absorb the sonics.

Useless. As soon as I bent over to grab the Mouth, the Muscle would slab me.

But I had no intention of letting these men into my brain. One lightning rush, zigzagging to make myself harder to hit?

"Don’t try it," the Muscle said, like he’d seen my thoughts on my face. "This pistol’s cone of effect covers your whole half of the room. I don’t have to aim to get you."

I didn’t know enough about stunners to tell if he was lying. Only one way to find out.

"Okay," I said in what I hoped was a defeated-sounding voice. "I’ll lie down on…"

Without warning, I dived forward — old trick, moving in the middle of the sentence, hoping your opponent needs a second to switch mental gears. Even as I struck the floor, I heard the whir of a stun-pistol, felt a wash of dizziness stagger my brain. Not quite out, I thought muddily, not unconscious. I rolled in the direction I thought was the door and blundered out with my leg, trying to sweep the Muscle’s feet out from under him. Nothing. If my leg moved at all, I couldn’t tell; it sure as blazes didn’t hit anything solid. I gave it another try, but my spasm of frantic motion only floundered me onto my back, staring up at Muscle through clumsy eyes.