"And these same, gentlemen soldiers---Grant (then President, no less), Sherman, Sheridan and Custer, next turned their expertise upon the pesky Native Americans, who had the gall to defend their land, their women and their children. Wasn't it Sheridan who said, 'The only good Indian is a dead Indian?' Massacred and starved an entire population into submission, innocents slaughtered without a second thought." "Colonel....." "But here, I'm boring you. What did you want to discuss---literature, fine art?" He took another drink from the glass, hurting his throat with too large a gulp, showing that he really was not a drinker, or not a practiced one. "Two things," said Brunner stiffly. "First as an officer of the bridge. Then as a man." "It sounds serious. Well. What is your report as my analysis officer?" "Yes. I only wanted to reinforce what I said earlier: that the enemy's strategy, ever since the main engagement began, makes no sense. He had attained a strong attacking position; his weaponry is at least the equal of our own; and yet he attacks without design, and trades forces with no apparent gain. I know, from my studies (this last he added almost as an apology), that battles are often chaotic. Commanders become confused, lines of communication break down, soldiers and officers panic. But none of this, so far as I can see, has been the case here. For example, why accept the sacrifice of our carrier?" He reddened, forced himself to continue. "Just because we brought it forward, hardly forced him to attack. I wish I could believe that the enemy is really that foolish. But I can't. They have spent years of preparation, and nearly all their resources. . .for what? Only to let some impatient general throw it all away? The only explanation I can find is that they are trying to lull our sense of caution and weaken our defense, for another fleet that is yet to come. I know that by all current technology this is impossible. Yet I feel that it could happen." At the words 'current technology' Dubcek stirred uncomfortably. The young man had sensed his darkest fear. He remained quiet for a moment, mulling this over. "You have done what I asked," he said finally, "and done it well. Now. What do you have to say to me as a man?" Now it was Brunner who could find no comfort in his chair. "I wish to resign my commission," he said with an effort. "I do not think I was made to give orders." "Do you hate me so much?" Brunner winced. "No, Colonel. It is true, I hated you at first---" He looked up, horrified at his own words. "Come on. Out with it. It won't matter much if you resign." Dubcek's manner was unruffled, but the lieutenant thought he caught a gleam of pain, or something, in his dark eyes. "There was a moment when I hated you---when I first realized you had sacrificed our carrier for theirs. But I don't feel that way now." "Then why?"