The Mouth gave Muscle another hissy glare, then slapped his hand through the hologram peacock. His skin fuzzed with green-and-purple streaks. "Ms. Smallwood," the Mouth said, "this is a matter of great concern to the Admiralty. When Outward Fleet personnel saw the news broadcasts of what happened to you…"
"This was never broadcast," I interrupted.
The Mouth looked at the Muscle. The Muscle shrugged.
"When the Outward Fleet obtained this hologram from the police," the Mouth said loftily, not looking me in the eye, "there was immediate concern. The base commander on Demoth contacted the High Council of Admirals, and the council dispatched us to investigate this matter strenuously."
"Strenuously?" I repeated. If I were an admiral, I wouldn’t trust these two with that kind of adverb.
"It’s a matter of security," the Muscle said with a straight face. "The security of the entire human species."
"Because someone pulled a trick you can’t imitate?"
"Ms. Smallwood," the Mouth said, pushing to regain his place as the center of attention, "if this hologram is accurate, someone is employing inhumanly advanced science on a Technocracy world. Your world, Ms. Smallwood. Doesn’t that worry you?"
"Why should it? The Sperm-field saved my life."
"She’s got a point," the Muscle murmured.
"Do you mind?" Mouth tried to give his partner a withering glare. He hadn’t spent enough time practicing the "wither" part — probably too busy working on his sneer. Mouth’s prissy little stare bounced off the Muscle like a wad of soggy tissue.
"Look," I said in my most reasonable voice, "we all know the League of Peoples includes races that are millions of years beyond human technology. Millions of years smarter, millions of years more evolved. I thought it was conventional wisdom that someone was always keeping an eye on humanity. ‘Invisibly walking among us’… even the Admiralty uses that phrase."
"League members may walk among us," the Mouth sniffed, "but they never do anything. If there are invisible aliens wandering through the Technocracy, Ms. Smallwood, they don’t stop children from drowning. They don’t call local police to tell who’s behind a string of serial murders, and they don’t show up in court to explain who’s innocent or guilty. So why should they work a miracle to help you?"
Good question, that. I’d asked it now and then myself in the past few days. "I don’t know," I said.
"We can’t accept that answer," Mouth told me. "The High Council gets extremely agitated at the thought of unknown aliens taking action on Technocracy planets. Especially when it involves political figures like you."
I snorted. "I’m not a political figure."
"You’re part of Demoth’s political system, Ms. Smallwood. And the Technocracy’s charter from the League of Peoples prohibits the League from trying to influence our internal governments."
Hogwash. I’d studied the charter during my Vigil training. The League could and would put the boot to human governments at every level if they thought our race was turning non-sentient. On the other hand, why waste breath giving these dickweeds a lecture on law? "What am I here for?" I asked as calmly as I could. "The way you’ve created this hologram, you must have hacked the full VR recording from the police databanks. That means you know everything I saw and heard. What else do you expect to get out of me?"
The Mouth smiled nastily. Close to a sneer but more smugness. "How about a confession this was all a hoax?"
"It wasn’t," I snapped. "If you want to see the acid burns on Chappalar’s body, let’s you and me take a trip to the cemetery."
"Ms. Smallwood," the Muscle said in a voice that had the decency to sound abashed, "there’s no question Proctor Chappalar died from third-degree burns. But we have to worry about…" He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the Peacock. "We need to know if that’s real or if someone is trying to trick us."
"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."