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And, though he was bound, the man held himself proudly. No, the revulsion wasn't caused by anything so straightforward. It was what the man had done Joste's thoughts shied away from consideration of such obscenity, and he had to force them back.
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."
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.
Both saluted, and Sedni left while Chorvak went to Joste's desk to make the call. The interrogator left as well, carrying the sleeping human. Within minutes he had covered the short distance to the hospital and was putting the mangled man on an emergency surgical table. Marguerre seemed to partially awaken when Joste put him down, whimpering softly until the duty surgeon gave him a sedative.
When I was him questioning, he something said that did not English seem, a code of some sort, I think. Then he cried out, and like a youngling wept. Can you me tell, what to him happened?" She seemed to rouse at Marguerre's name. "Something not English? But he doesn't know any other language " Then her eyes widened, and she looked sick. "Blood . . . is it his?" Joste's silence answered her.
"'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?"
A sudden flashing movement of Joste's claws ripped the tough material of the human's shirt to ribbons, exposing the soft undershirt. A single claw took care of that, still without breaking thin human skin. "Why did you here come?" Joste asked softly. "Now say, and yourself much pain save. You no honor have to lose." Now what the hell did he mean by that, Marguerre wondered.
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