sychic probes
weren't meant to be.

"Tell me about yourself," Narval leaned back,
inspected his fingers, and then concentrated on
a monitor in the wall behind the chair in which
Brad sat.

"My name is Brad Curtin," Brad began, "and I'm
here with five others to seek sanctuary."

"Tell me about the crimes of which you were
convicted, the Guardian Station prison to which you
were committed, how you organized your escape,
and how it was carried through. You know, of course,
that you're undergoing psychic probe. The probe
compensates for your awareness of its being used
on you; the validity of the findings is not degraded.
I see the monitor from where I sit, so, let's hear
your story."

Brad spoke for fifteen minutes without
interruption. He related the events on his
transport off Luna, the investigation that led
to his trial, his testimony before the Board,
and his arrival at the Guardian Station. Without
hesitation, he swung into the cover scenario that
had been burned deep into his psyche by Ram's
technicians: how he had selected his accomplices,
organized the escape, joined the convoy into the
spunnel, and finally, his arrival on Planet Pluto.

Brad let the embedded scripts flow freely. He
trusted Ram's preparations; his life and the lives
of his companions depended on them. Far more
important, the Sentinels mission demanded it.
Anomalies, he knew, would be sensed immediately,
should he even try to color his recounting of the
personal knowledge and programmed experiences
now deeply embedded in his mind.

Brad stopped talking; the general questions had
been answered. Narval studied the wall monitor
behind Brad, and returned his stare to Brad.

"Let's clear up a few points," he said. "I
understand the ship that you, shall we say,
expropriated for your escape was no more
than a local utility vessel in the Belt. Yet, from
what you say -- and from your ship's log -- your
destination was the rim. Wouldn't you have had a
fuel problem?"

"We thought at first that we would. Our plan,
originally, was to get to a refueling station,
replenish our energy packs, and take it from there.
When we checked our bearings, we discovered that
our coordinates put us within range of a spunnel node
so we headed for that. When we got there, several
convoys were lined up for entry to the Special
Zone. Our ship had UIPS markings and the gateway
was crowded. We managed to get in the lineup and
made it."

Narval glanced at t