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."

"As one who has lost all memory?" the older guard asked.

"I think … not lost," Joste said slowly. "He told me he knew what he was doing, and I believe him."

"What, then?"

"I cannot be sure yet … but he fought me as well as he was able, though he must have known he had no way to win, and I denied him the escape of death. Had he lacked honor as I thought, he would have spoken in an effort to live—but he did not." Joste hesitated. He had underestimated the man; perhaps Marguerre had spoken the truth earlier. Perhaps he had truly felt no dishonor in leading females into combat—a thing that was difficult to believe, but so was his sudden change from a defiant Marine to a sobbing … what? "Not lost," Joste repeated thoughtfully. "Far worse, if what I begin to suspect is true. It would appear that he destroyed his mind rather than betray his people."

"Not even a human would go that far!" Sedni exclaimed, his voice shaken.

"I would prefer a more acceptable idea myself," Joste said. Death came to everyone, soon or late; in the long run, it was unavoidable, and at times a self-inflicted death was the only way to preserve honor—far preferable to the alternative of living dishonored. The idea of someone destroying his own mind, though—even for the same purpose—was one that made the Traiti interrogator recoil. Still, at this point it was only a possibility, not a certainty. Joste glanced at the human again, then began giving orders. "Chorvak, call the hospital and tell them I'm bringing in an emergency patient. And find out if either of the females survived and is able to talk. Sedni, go to Communications and have them stand by for a possible priority call to N'chark clanhome on Norvis. I may need to talk to Ka'ruchaya Jarna."

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.

"What's wrong with him?" the surgeon asked. "Aside from the obvious, I mean."

"I am not certain," Joste told him. "I am not even sure I really want to know, but I must check. Give him support treatment until I can, please."

Chorvak was waiting when Joste left the surgery. "The tiny dark-skinned female is dead, Group-Leader," he reported, "but the bigger pale one's injuries were less serious than the physicians originally thought; she is alive and regaining consciousness. They will allow you to speak to her as long as you keep it brief and do not excite her."

"Thank you,