Summary

M. C. Pease,  Generals Help Themselves

“ The Fourth Fleet of the Combine entered the Zone twenty minutes ago. They were given an ultimatum but are showing no indication of compliance. Therefore, we are going to blast hell out of them." The echoes from his voice rolled back from speakers all over the base. "The people at home do not think we can do it. I know we can. I have not asked their permission. It is not needed. My orders are explicit and fully cover the situation. My orders to you are equally explicit. Go out there and teach the bloody bastards a lesson." ”
Source: Gutenberg

M. C. Pease,  Generals Help Themselves

“ To the men in the ships, one to each, it seemed as if their very nerve cells must jar apart. They felt themselves incapable of coherent action, or, even, thought. But they did not need coherency. Their function was done until the ship was out of danger, when a new formation would be made, a new target designated, and a new order to execute given.
Because the electronic computers took care of the attack. They had to. No human could react as fast as was needed.
”
Source: Gutenberg

M. C. Pease,  Generals Help Themselves

“ The pounding of the Old Man's fist measured his words and the depth of his anger.
"If we could only make them hope. Somehow. Anyhow."
Suddenly, his clenched fist stopped in mid-air. He frowned. Slowly, his hand opened. The frown relaxed and a smile replaced it.
"Maybe we can, at that. Maybe we can." He leaned back with his eyes half closed. His aide knew better than to interrupt him. Ten minutes later, he opened his eyes.
"Make arrangements to have Commander Morgan take command of Base Q as soon as possible. Within two days at the outside."
”
Source: Gutenberg

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