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has anything bad to say about you, which is surprising, and no one who has served under you has anything bad to say about you either, which is impossible. “Now, I’m not a trusting sort of guy, though under ordinary circumstances I might turn my back on you now and then, for a second or two. But-I don’t trust you. Bester has been in your head, and that makes you a threat. And I think I can say with confidence that EarthForce sees it that way, too. You can stay in fifty years and you’ll still be a lieutenant. They’ll stick you behind a desk and quietly hope you go away.”
    Thompson’s face went almost the color of his hair, brick red. “You think I don’t know that, s-Mr. Garibaldi? You think I wanted this to happen to me?”
    “I want to know why you didn’t recognize Bester. You went to the academy, when you were a kid.”
    “Mr. Garibaldi, I went in when I manifested, when I was twelve. In those days there wasn’t much of a choice. It was only three years later that the crisis changed things. I never met Mr. Bester during that time.”
    “You never saw a picture of him? You couldn’t sense that he was a telepath?”
    “Sure, I saw pictures of him-I even thought he was a little familiar looking when I met him. But he had a beard, and he wasn’t in uniform, and-I just wasn’t expecting to meet a war criminal on leave on Maui. It’s a big universe, Mr. Garibaldi, and if you move around in it, you see people you think are other people, you know that. And he didn’t act like a monster. He was funny. He seemed like a nice guy.”
    “Until he cored out your mind.”
    Thompson nodded miserably.
    “But he didn’t do a perfect job. I started remembering, and the second I did, I authorized recovery scans. Those hurt, Mr. Garibaldi, especially when someone of Bester’s power puts guards in against scans.”
    “Yeah, I’m sure it did hurt. But see, here’s the part I can’t figure out, the part maybe you can help me with. Bester is evil. No argument from me there. He’s probably one of the five most evil sons of bitches in the last two centuries. He’s cold, and manipulative, and he has no more soul than the Great Whoozits gave a piranha. But what he isn’t, is sloppy. If he thought you were a threat he would have killed you, or burned your brain into a fragging pile of slag. He wouldn’t have done the half-ass job he did on you unless he had a reason to.”
    “Maybe he didn’t have time. Or maybe he’s getting old. There were rumors he was nearly killed during the telepath crisis, that he lost the use of most of his power.”
    “Yeah? A rumor and two credits will get you a cup of coffee. I don’t believe it-I know some of the things he’s done since then. And I don’t believe he screwed up on you. Now, I know you’re awfully concerned about what I do think, aren’t you?”
    “Sure.”
    “I think that you are, one…”
    he held up his index finger
    “…a Trojan horse. Everyone thinks you’re fine and then one day, blam, you kill Sheridan or somebody.”
    “Mr. Garibaldi…”
    “Or, two…”
    he ticked off another finger
    “…you’re a false lead. After all, you had information that pointed toward his destination, right?”
    “Yes, sir. Apparently I did fight him…”
    “Uh-huh. Like I said, if he had the slightest worry that you could ever point a finger in his general direction, you’d be taking a dirt nap about now. See, I don’t trust you, but I do trust Bester. He thinks things through. So why are you alive and functioning?”
    “Are you accusing me of something, Mr. Garibaldi?”
    “I dunno. Do you feel accused?”
    “If you’ll pardon me, Mr. Garibaldi, I don’t think you have any damned idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know what I’ve gone through, and…”
    “Don’t I? Bester got in my head, screwed with my mind. Made me betray my best friend almost ruined my life. After all these years I still don’t trust me, Lieutenant.”
    Thompson’s mouth