chair, and
blackness. "Yes, it does."
"Want to talk about it?"
He looked back at her quickly, his expression surprised, and she wondered if he, too, was remembering their conversation with Aikawa in Snotty Row.
"I don't know," he said, after a moment. "I haven't really been able to put it into words for myself, much less anyone else."
"Me, either," she admitted, and it was her turn to look off into the stars. "It was . . . awful. Horrible. And yet . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head slowly.
"And yet, there was that awful sense of triumph, wasn't there?" His soft question pulled her eyes back to him as if he were a magnet. "That sense of winning. Of having proven we were faster, tougher—smarter. Of being better than they were."
"Yes." She nodded slowly. "I guess there was. And maybe there should have been. We were faster and tougher—this time, at least. And they were exactly what we joined the Navy to stop. Shouldn't there be some sense of triumph, of victory, when we stop murderers and rapists and torturers from hurting anyone else, ever again?"
"Maybe." His nostrils flared as he drew a deep breath, then shook his head. "No, not 'maybe.' You're right. And it's not as if you or I gave the orders, or fired the weapons. Not this time. But the truth is, when you come right down to it, however evil they might've been—and I grant you, they were evil, any way you want to define the term—they were still human beings. I saw what happened to them, and my imagination's good enough to picture at least some of what it must've been like when it happened. And no one should feel triumphant over having done that to someone else, however much they may have deserved to have it done to them. Nobody should . . . and I do. So what does that say about me?"
"Feeling qualms about wearing the uniform?" she asked almost gently.
"No." He shook his head again, firmly. "Like I said when we were talking with the others. This is why I joined, and I don't have any qualms about doing the job. '
"Want to talk about it?"
He looked back at her quickly, his expression surprised, and she wondered if he, too, was remembering their conversation with Aikawa in Snotty Row.
"I don't know," he said, after a moment. "I haven't really been able to put it into words for myself, much less anyone else."
"Me, either," she admitted, and it was her turn to look off into the stars. "It was . . . awful. Horrible. And yet . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head slowly.
"And yet, there was that awful sense of triumph, wasn't there?" His soft question pulled her eyes back to him as if he were a magnet. "That sense of winning. Of having proven we were faster, tougher—smarter. Of being better than they were."
"Yes." She nodded slowly. "I guess there was. And maybe there should have been. We were faster and tougher—this time, at least. And they were exactly what we joined the Navy to stop. Shouldn't there be some sense of triumph, of victory, when we stop murderers and rapists and torturers from hurting anyone else, ever again?"
"Maybe." His nostrils flared as he drew a deep breath, then shook his head. "No, not 'maybe.' You're right. And it's not as if you or I gave the orders, or fired the weapons. Not this time. But the truth is, when you come right down to it, however evil they might've been—and I grant you, they were evil, any way you want to define the term—they were still human beings. I saw what happened to them, and my imagination's good enough to picture at least some of what it must've been like when it happened. And no one should feel triumphant over having done that to someone else, however much they may have deserved to have it done to them. Nobody should . . . and I do. So what does that say about me?"
"Feeling qualms about wearing the uniform?" she asked almost gently.
"No." He shook his head again, firmly. "Like I said when we were talking with the others. This is why I joined, and I don't have any qualms about doing the job. '