y they could bear--a thing
that happened less often than any could wish.

And this monster had actually led females into combat!

He brought himself under control; the grammar and harsh sounds of
Imperial English were difficult enough without having to fight emotion
at the same time. "Yourself identify," he growled.

"Major Horst Marguerre, Imperial Terran Marine Corps." It didn't look
at all good for him, Marguerre thought grimly. These huge gray-skinned
humanoids were aggressive as hell--they were nicknamed Sharks as much
for that as for the facial resemblance--and this one looked even less
well-intentioned toward him than his guards did. "My ident code's
TERHE6-2063-4121. What're you doing with my wounded?"

"They are medical treatment receiving," Joste said. "Though there
little chance for their recovery is, the physicians their best doing
are." At least, he thought, the man had the decency to show concern--
even if it had to be false concern--for the two survivors of his
raiding party, both of whom were female. "What your purpose was, here
coming?"

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