Marguerre didn't know what caused the loathing he could sense from the three massive Traiti, but it was intense enough to frighten him in spite of almost a year's active combat. Still, fear or no fear, he wasn't about to tell them what they wanted to know. He shook his head. "Sorry, that's all I'm allowed to say." Then he winced as the one holding his shoulder and neck tightened that grip, and the one doing the questioning started to smile. This, to put it mildly, looked less and less like it was going to be a friendly party, and he was suddenly very thankful he'd been given the anti-interrogation conditioning before this mission. Not that he intended to use it unless he had no other choice. Good, Joste thought. The man was going to be stubborn. "You mine now are, Major, and you will much more say. When you have enough pain had, you will to me gladly speak." Slowly, almost luxuriously, he reached for the man, extending his claws. Marguerre tasted fear, his mouth bitter-dry as he watched the clawed gray hand approach. He remained still, though he could feel himself going pale. He'd expected death if the mission failed, but not like this--not being tortured for information while two of his people lay badly wounded in a Traiti military hospital. He knew his interrogator was right; everyone had a breaking point. He could only hope they'd kill him before he came so close to his own that he'd have to activate the conditioning. He preferred to meet death knowing who he was. 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. Not that it really mattered, under the circumstances. "Forget it. I'm a Marine, not a traitor." His muscles were tensed in anticipation, but it didn't help much. He gasped and flinched anyway when the claws touched his flesh, digging in and across, drawing blood. Joste was fully aware of human frailty, and was being far gentler than he cared to, but he was still startled at the amount of blood welling from such shallow wounds. He would have to be even more careful; if he weren't, this Marguerre might bleed to death before giving him the information he needed. It might be best to use fists or slaps instead of claws or teeth, at least for the most part, until the time came to execute the man. "Why?" he asked again. "Go to hell," Marguerre snarled. "We do not that belief hold," Joste said calmly. "And if either of us to such a place going is, it will you be. I have never a female to her death sent." "And I have. So? Nobody forced them to join the Marines, or apply for Special Forces. They knew what they were getting into. Every last one of them's a volunteer."