It wasn't your idea. It never has to be. You just do the job and collect your pay. There's a big red hole in your credit after the wires you picked up at the stitcher. There's a little red dot on the back of this man's head. He'll probably understand why you're pulling the trigger. You? You're just the prophet of someone else's revelation. Forget it, offworlder. It's Polychrome.
The captain standing on the bridge, wreathed in smoke and the cries of the dying. The chief engineer, struggling to force that last precious burst of power from the fusion plant. The Marine sergeant holding fast in the hatchway, death to the alien boarders. The cold-eyed admiral, choosing the slain by the turn of a word and her orders to her bait.... [click here for more]
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