FTL system check, diagnostic functions within parameters repeats the harlequin the agony exquisite, the colors run the path of ashes, neuronal network run fifty-two percent of heat exchanger cross-collateralized with hyper-dimensional matrix, upper senses, repair ordered relay to zero zero zero zero.
You know, sometimes I think you got icewater in those veins and other times I think you're just a naive little schoolteacher. I've sent men on suicide missions in two different wars now, and let me tell you something: it don't make a godsdamn bit of difference whether they're riding in a Viper or walking out onto a parade ground. In the end, they're just as dead. So take your piety and your moralizing and your high-minded principles and stick 'em someplace safe until you're off this rock and sitting in your nice comfy chair on Colonial One again. I've got a war to fight.