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“That ends.” She tapped her right index finger on the tabletop. “It ends now. Maybe not instantly, if it turns out we’ve underestimated their defensive strength, but it ends.” Her finger tapped again. “This isn’t another star nation we’re fighting. Not this time. This is a cancer, and we’re going to cut it out and cauterize the wound. Whatever it takes, we will do it.”
She let her final sentence settle into their bones, then folded her hands on the table and leaned forward.
“But we will not become them in the process,” she said softly, quietly. “We’ll remember who we are. We’ll remember that our navies and our star nations fight with honor and a sense of decency. We will destroy the Mesan Alignment and consign it to the ash heap in the corner of Hell reserved for genocidal perversions. But when we do, we’ll also remember that the initial labor force that built the Alignment’s fortress consisted of slaves. Slaves who had no voice in what they did, or how they did it, or for whom. Those slaves’ descendants are undoubtedly still there, still with no voice, no choice, but to do the Alignment’s bidding, and we will not massacre innocents just because the Alignment doesn’t care who or how many of the people we loved it’s killed. So, whatever else happens, there will be no Eridani Edict violations.
“Believe me when I say I understand the desire to turn their planets and their habitats into cinders. To pay them in their own coin. To stand back and watch as they burn to the ground. I’ve been there. I’ve wanted that so badly I could taste it, like poison. And I almost did it.”
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