"How can I trust you? How do I know you won't put me through mnemonic erasure the moment I submit to being anesthetized?"
The technician had no answer. "I'll tell you," Mannion said. "You're all doctors, aren't you? All four?"
They nodded.
"All right, then. I'll rely on your oaths as medical men not to put me through erasure until you've probed that mutiny fully. Well?"
"Okay, Mannion. We'll take a look. But if it's not as you say—"
"I'll take my chances," Mannion said. He felt cold and uncertain inside. He didn't know what they'd find. He didn't even know whether they'd keep their word and probe him before the erasure.
He put the gun down on a lab table. "Here," he said. "Here's my gun. Now let's see how good your oath is."
The only trouble with that was he might never see how good it was.
"Just relax," the technician said. "The probe is entering your mind, now. Just relax...."