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. He seems not to know me any longer, perhaps not to know himself."