The other Sharonians stared at him. Clearly, they hadn't believe he'd actually shoot one of them in cold blood.

Well, he thought, at least we've established now that I will. That's worthwhile in its own right.

"Would the Voice care to reconsider his position?" he asked, watching Porath choose yet another prisoner, once more at random.

The second Sharonian stumbled forward, his face white and strained. He tried to dig his heels in, but without the use of his hands, resistance was ultimately futile. Porath dragged him over to stand where the first prisoner had died, and Neshok pressed the muzzle against his head, in turn.

"Wait!" a Sharonian voice called.

Neshok turned his head, quirking one eyebrow, and gazed interrogatively at the speaker. The Sharonian looked to be a bit older than most of the prisoners, and he wore only a sleeveless undershirt of some sort above the waist, which meant he wasn't displaying any rank insignia. But there was something about his eyes—a hard, challenging something, like the eyes of that wiry little senior-armsman back at Fort Shaylar.

"I'm the Voice," the Sharonian said.

"Are you?" Neshok considered the other man for a moment, then shrugged and beckoned the one Porath had chosen back in among the others. "Come here."

The man who'd identified himself walked across to face Neshok.

"So, you're the Voice?"

"Yes," the Sharonian said, but Neshok shook his head and held up his personal crystal. A bright red light strobed down inside it, and the Intelligence officer sighed.

"I'm afraid you're not," he said. "This is a truth spell. And according to it, you've just lied to me."

"I don't care what your rock says," the prisoner replied. "You wanted the Voice. You've got me."

"Yes, I have, but you're not a Voice. And I've decided I don't like people who lie to me."

The second shot was just as noisy as the first one, and the second Sharonian fell diagonally across the body of the first.

"We can keep this up as long as you like," Neshok told the remaining prisoners, and nodded to Porath again.

"That won't be necessary," another Sharonian said. His face was hard with hatred, and he stepped forward on his own. "I'm the Voice."

Neshok looked at him for a moment, then glanced down at his PC again. This time, the crystal showed no flashing red, and he nodded slightly.

"And would you happen to be the only Voice?" he asked calmly, still watching the crystal.

"As far as I know, I'm the only one still alive, at any rate," the Voice said harshly, and once again the crystal remained clear.

"And who would this fellow have been?" Neshok said, nodding his head at the second dead man.

"Company-Captain chan Robarik," the Voice grated, and Neshok just managed not to curse. Just his luck. They'd actually managed to take the fort's commanding officer alive, only to have him get himself killed out of sheer stupidity.

"It's too bad you didn't step forward soon enough to keep him alive," he told the Voice.

"No Sharonian made you pull that trigger," the Voice said.

"You may have a point," Neshok conceded, then cocked his head. "Tell me, is it true that no Voice can communicate with another one through a portal?"

"Of course it is," the Sharonian replied.

"So you all keep telling me, and I suppose I have to believe you," Neshok said, glancing back down at his PC once more. "Still, it's probably best not to take any chances, don't you think?"

The Voice only glared at him, and Neshok shrugged. Then he raised the revolver again.

"Now," he told the other prisoners a moment later, his own voice sounding strangely far away and tinny through the ringing in his ears, "I trust the rest of you will see the wisdom of answering my questions promptly and thoroughly. If you don't—" he looked down at the three bodies sprawled grotesquely across the ground "—I'm afraid I'm going to have to reload, aren't I?"