he
floor now, naked except for his own blood, his hands no longer bound
because he no longer had hands to bind.

Yet he was trying to rise, had actually made it to his knees with his
wrists pressed against his chest and his head bowed to hide empty eye
sockets, in a sickening parody of one paying homage to the Lords.

Marguerre knew he was done. The pain, the maiming, were too much
. . . and his tormentor wasn't going to allow him to die by accident.
He had to activate the conditioning or buy his death with the information
the Traiti wanted. For a Marine, that was no real choice--but there was
one thing he wanted to make absolutely clear before he went out.
"Joste . . ."

"Speak, human."

"You said . . . I've got no honor." Marguerre raised his head, faced
the sound of Joste's voice. "Maybe not . . . your kind, I don't know.
I'd . . . hoped you'd miscalculate . . . kill me clean . . . 'fore it
came to this. Now I just want you . . . t'be certain . . . I do know
what I'm doing." He straightened as much as he was able, drew in
breath, and forced himself to speak the single short phrase he'd
chosen. Hearing himself say it, deliberately, would wipe out Major
Horst Marguerre.

Nonsense syllables, Joste thought. "'Twas brillig, and the slithy
toves"?

For a space of seconds, there was no sound--then Marguerre collapsed
with the heart-rending wail of a hurt, terrified youngling, to lie
sobbing brokenly at Joste's feet.

Stunned, the interrogator could only stare, then he dropped to one knee
beside the bloody form. "Human . . . what wrong is?"

The face that turned toward him had nothing of the proud Marine in it,
only pain and fear. The man had said he knew what he was doing--what
had he done? Whatever it was, there was clearly no point in
questioning him further. With a sigh, Joste picked up his prisoner and
stood.

Unbelievably, that seemed to comfort the man. He nestled closer to
Joste's chest, and the sobs slowed to whimpers, then ceased. His
breathing showed he had gone to sleep.

Joste and the guards exchanged amazed glances. "What did you do to
him, Group-Leader?" the younger one asked.

"I did nothing, Sedni. What has happened to him was his own choice, he
said. He had hoped to die before this became necessary." Joste looked
down at his burden, troubled by the man's sudden change. "He resisted
me with all his will, yet now he clings to me for comfort, as a newborn
clings to its mother.