atitude. When that fades a bit, I'll be able
to read him."

"Gratitude," Cortin said, her expression grim. "He is innocent, then.
I owe you a personal debt, Ranger; I have never harmed, much less
executed, anyone who didn't deserve it. Thanks to your assistance,
this will be no exception."

"My pleasure," Medart told her. "I think he's settled down enough now
for me to get through without hurting him." He closed his eyes,
concentrating on the prisoner. The light touch needed for simple
communication wouldn't be enough, though he paused briefly at that
level to reassure the other. *Mind-reading is painless, Shelton, even
though I'm going to have to go deep enough for direct memory access. I
won't trigger the memories, so you won't have to relive them; I'll just
copy them to myself, so I can report accurately to Colonel Cortin.*

*I understand.* The man was nervous--naturally enough, Medart
thought--but there was a basic stability to him the Ranger liked. *Do
what you have to--and God bless you for helping.*

*Thank you.* With that Medart went deeper, scanning memories until he
found the relevant set. They were as nasty as he'd expected, and he
didn't like the idea of experiencing them, but to accomplish his
objective, he didn't have any choice. He "reached" for them.

Cortin watched with interest but no understanding as the Ranger closed
his eyes and sat silent for several seconds. Then he shuddered,
tensing, and she watched sweat stains appear and grow on his uniform.
By the time he opened his eyes again, almost half an hour later, he was
soaked and looked exhausted. She wanted to ask about her prisoner, but
instead said, "Are you all right?"

"I will be after a bath and nap," Medart replied. "Reading minds,
except for the simplest communication link, isn't like reading a book;
on any deeper level, you share the other person's thoughts--and
feelings. This is my third time at that level, and by far the worst."
He stood, moving around to ease the kinks. "He's committed no crimes,
Excellency, but he's damnsure been the victim of some. He's a small
farmer; he and his family were sitting down to supper one evening when
several men broke in. They restrained him while they killed his
family, making sure he knew they were making it look like he'd done it.
Then they changed to Enforcement Service uniforms and took him to an
Inquisitor. The Inquisitor already had his report written; all he did
was cut