I didn't know if I should laugh or cry at the sheer absurdity of his accusation. The Major was still looking at me with that accusatory glare, as if I had personally sabotaged the last hope of the United States.
"Don't be ridiculous!" I snapped, my voice echoing off the cold concrete of the base. "Even if I repeated that moment a hundred times, I would still kill every single one of them! They are traitors! Engrave that deeply in your head, Major: a traitor is someone either to be killed or to be bound by a contract on the system's honour. There is no middle ground, and there is no 'negotiation' with people who sold out their species for a cosy bunker."
My words showered mercilessly over his head. That Major was making a fatal mistake in his reasoning.
Did he honestly think there was a chance for some of them to return from that dark path once they had tasted the rewards of the angels?
