"Torture, you mean."
"We've been through this already," Kroll said. "Since you're going to talk anyway, I don't understand why you can't save yourself a great deal of pain by talking now, before I hand you to the Inquisitor."
"Because I don't mean to talk at all," Leslie said. He ran a hand through his shock of blonde hair and glared fiercely at Kroll.
"Very well," the Interrogator said. He stepped to the robot and slipped in Neil Leslie's tape.
"I don't understand you at all," Kroll admitted, looking down at the pain-racked body before him. "Why don't you talk? I don't want to keep you in here, you know."
Bloodshot eyes looked back at him, eyes clouded with pain and hatred. "I'm not saying anything," Leslie murmured. "Oil up your robot and let's try again."
For the hundredth time the Inquisitor's talons descended, raked a red line across the man's body. He shuddered, but did not speak. Kroll shook his head impatiently. No prisoner had ever held out against the Inquisitor this long before. He found himself perspiring.
The Inquisitor said, "The name of your leader is David Cosbro. Is this true?"
No answer.