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reception desk after which the orderly addressed the prisoner. The man wore the same style uniform; he too was a prisoner.
    “Your name’s de Coeur?” he asked. The subject remained silent, his head bowed. The orderly turned back to the guard. “I see what you mean. Leave him with me. Come back in an hour.”
    “Are you sure? We’ve been instructed to keep him chained and under guard, while outside his cell block. You should check the detention notes.”
    “No, he’ll be safe with me. Go on, I’m sure you can find something more interesting to do.”
    The guard departed with a relieved smile on his face. The orderly led the man into a small room containing basic medical equipment. There were no video cameras or microphones visible on the walls or ceiling.
    “Now, de Coeur, sit here while I check your vitals. Call me Mac, everyone does.” He proceeded to take and record readings of temperature, blood pressure, weight; these were simple, basic measurements. Steg, shuffling and distracted, moved as directed by Mac.
    “Well, your vital readings are all in acceptable ranges. How do you feel?” When Steg did not answer, the orderly repeated his question, louder and more firmly. “I asked, how do you feel?”
    Steg looked up at the orderly’s face, into his eyes. The orderly swallowed, momentarily wondering if releasing the guard had been a good idea.
    “Some—some more of my memories are returning.” Steg’s speech was hesitant, as though he was exploring and discovering words. “It’s been a slow process. There are gaps.”
    “Very good. Tell me, where are you from?”
    “Homeworld, in the Centaur Belt. That’s Rimwards.”
    “It’s an independent world?”
    “Yes. It’s a free world, a good place to be.”
    “Pity.” The man’s empathy was genuine.
    “Why?”
    “You realize you’ll never see your home again?”
    Steg stilled all movement as he intensified his visual contact with the orderly. He reached out and gripped the man’s arm. “Why?”
    The orderly frowned. “You don’t know? You’re to be executed. According to your file, an ImpSec tribunal sentenced you to death.”
    Steg stayed silent for a moment. He retained his grip, only releasing the pressure when he saw the reflection of pain on the other man’s face. “I collapsed in the courtroom. I was unconscious when the hearing ended. I think they shipped me straight here, afterwards. No one said—I didn’t know—”
    The orderly sat Steg down, aware of the consternation his comments had caused.
    “ImpSec.” It was a curse. “They make their own rules.”
    “When—when will they carry out this—when will they execute me?”
    “They don’t publicize their schedule. I checked your records earlier; there’s no date set for your execution, only the sentence.”
    “Thank you, Mac, for telling me.”
    “I didn’t think—well, I suppose I thought you knew and that’s why you seemed so despondent.”
    “Despondent? Oh, I see. No, I’ve been preoccupied, focused on re-building my memories.” He laughed. It was a bitter, humorless sound. “I suppose I’ll complete the task at the same time the authorities carry out ImpSec’s sentence.”
    The orderly completed his examination of Steg and decided he did not need to refer him to the doctor. “He’s hopeless, anyway. He’s addicted to one of the more poisonous Joy by-products—his nervous system’s shot. That is why they posted him here, as a prison doctor. He’d never be allowed to practice medicine, outside.”
    Steg was deep in thought on the return to his cell. His memories were returning, although his bleak prediction they would be complete at the point the prison carried out his execution seemed more than probable. He had progressed; he was able to recall details of Homeworld from his childhood, teen, and later years. He was beginning to tap into recent memories, although some still eluded his efforts. Even though he realized his efforts might not succeed, he