"Unfortunately, no," the Inquisitor said. "Because of your danger to the State, you must be kept in Quarantine Camp, along with other diseased former members of society, until such time as we are able to clear your mind of its confusion. But you will not be punished." "I won't be punished?" Wengrove repeated mindlessly. "When the Inquisitor says something, it means it," Kroll said. "Take him away." The next prisoner was Neil Leslie. He strode into the Inquisitor's Chamber without having to be pushed, and confronted Kroll defiantly. "My turn, eh?" Kroll nodded. "Your companions have both been removed." He nodded meaningful toward the Inquisitor, whose claws were red with the blood of Florence Horniman and Chester Wengrove. "They both spoke most satisfactorily----after some persuasion." "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. A needle descended. Still no answer. "Your Cell was located in East Appalachia. Upper Quadrant. Is this true?" No answer again. Minutes passed, minutes in which Leslie continued to stare defiantly outward, continued to clench his fists and remain silent. Finally the Inquisitor opened its tightly-clamped arms and let Leslie stagger out. He slumped to the ground at the feet of the robot and leaned dazedly against the Inquisitor's gleaming base. "Prisoner is on the verge of death," the Inquisitor said. "Further questioning is pointless." Kroll looked down in surprise and chagrin. In ten years, this was the first time a prisoner had not broken under Interrogation. He scowled angrily; it was his first failure. "You're a stubborn man, Leslie. But it's killed you." "I'm not dead yet," the prisoner said brokenly. Suddenly he mustered some strength and managed to look up. "Tell me something, Kroll. I want to know something." "Yes?" "Why do you do what you do?" "You mean--Interrogate?"