ancaster, but I didn't get scared until I heard the Team-Leader's
name. It was Jeffrey's team . . . and on the ride out I heard other
searchers had found seven bodies from the ten-man team. The medic
wasn't one of them, and that scared me worse. Jeffy didn't have what
it takes to escape an ambush, and you know what's likely to happen to
an Enforcement trooper captured by terrorists."

"Nothing good," Cortin agreed.

"We were the first combat team to get to the ambush site, so after a
quick briefing, the on-scene commander sent us after the ambush
party--fifteen of them, his Tracker said. With that few, our
Team-Leader decided we didn't need any backup, so we got on their
trail. When we caught up a few hours later, they'd made camp and were
working on Jeffy. I couldn't see them yet, but I knew his voice well
enough to recognize it, even screaming and with the overtones algetin
adds."

Cortin nodded. Screams, to a civilian and even to most Enforcement
personnel, didn't tell much except that the screamer was feeling
intense pleasure or pain. An Inquisitor learned not only to tell
which, but also several other things; she wasn't at all surprised that
Bain had been able to tell his brother had been dosed with the
pain-enhancer.

"We took out the sentries, which eliminated five of the terrorists and
gave us the advantage of numbers as well as skill, then we moved in on
the camp." Bain paused. "Have you ever been in on a mass
interrogation?"

"No, but I know the theory; pick the least likely to be useful and make
a dramatic example of him, to save time with the rest."

"That's what they were doing with Jeffy. All three of our people were
hanging spreadeagle, but Jeffy was the one their version of an
Inquisitor was working on." Bain's voice caught, and it was a moment
before he could continue. "I'd . . . rather not go into the details;
just call it a standard demonstration. The plaguer was in the middle
of gutting him when we attacked. I knee-shot him, then went to Jeffy."
He stared at his saddle horn. "He . . . didn't recognize me at first,
and . . . when he did, he begged for help." Bain looked at his
commanding officer, his expression haunted. "Joan, he couldn't have
lived if there'd been a hospital trauma center five feet away, and he
knew it. I couldn't refuse him, make him live in that kind of agony
until shock and blood loss killed him in spite of the drugs. So I gave
him Last Rites--then I ki