"That's my next question. It seems to me the Space Guard should have been after you immediately. How is it they let you get away?" "I think I owe you the credit for that." "Me?" "That's the way I figure it. The Guard needs a minimum number of ships to do its work in the Inner Region space lanes. Those lanes are so crowded that they need every ship they can muster to maintain order. On that I speak from long and bitter personal experience. Since the secession, many more Guard vessels are needed along the Belt and their overlap into the Jovian Void; at best they're thinly spread. "Because of the threat to Slingshot that they perceive in you, the UIPS has been draining both groups lately to augment patrols along routes through the Outer Region that converge on the Special Zone. The additional ships are from the Belt patrols. With all that they already have to cover, expending vital resources to chase a few escaped convicts just wasn't worth it." Narval wheezed a chuckle. "So, you think you are beholden to me for this indirect assistance. Really feel that way?" As he asked the question he looked intently at the monitor. Brad, in turn, watched Narval's eyes. "I can't see it any other way, Mr. President." Narval grinned. "Your answers to my questions present an interesting scenario," Narval said after studying the monitor. "The probe, by the way, does not indicate significant deviations from the facts -- as you understand them, of course." Narval waved the guards away. Saluting, they left the room, closing the door softly behind them. Narval motioned Brad to a chair of much gentler design alongside his desk. As Brad exchanged seats Narval swiveled his chair to face him. He leaned forward and grasped Brad's wrist in a puffy grip. "The interrogation is over," he said. "This little session with the probe, along with voice analyses of you and your associates has, up to now, failed to disclose a threat to me or about what you all now know of my plans and military capabilities. You seem to be what you claim. Nevertheless, you remain under scrutiny." Brad shrugged and remained silent; his features reflected that he expected no less. Narval's smile was vapid, metallic. "I commend you for the manner in which you represented Drummer and, I add, myself. You did well with the log depot Commander and that upstart on the transport. I am especially pleased with the way you conducted yourself in that little squabble on the transport." "Thank you, Mr. President." "Now, to more important matters, Brad." Narval leaned back in his deeply cushioned chair and tented his stubby fingers.